by SARAH ROWLAND

They snort and slurp and pant. Their bodies writhe, pushed to their physical limits, glistening with sweat and wet with each other's saliva. And all they've done so far is say "Hi" to each other. Just imagine when they have sex!

It's easier to make tasteless wisecracks than it is to watch these characters at first, but the humanity and beauty of Oasis takes hold in the end. The premise might sound like a sappy tearjerker, but this romance between a slow-witted ex-con and a wheelchair-bound woman manages to sidestep maudlin melodrama, leaving the patient viewer with a magnificent payoff.

According to the notes of Korean director Lee Chang-dong, he set out to challenge "normal" people's threshold for human compassion with his award-winning film. And that he certainly does.

Set in Seoul, the love story follows the doomed relationship between a woman who suffers from severe cerebral palsy and a man whose slight mental capacity has put him on society's fringe. Life is not a box of chocolates for Hong Jong-du (Sol Kyung-gu). The misguided simpleton has just been released from prison after voluntarily taking the rap for his brother's hit-and-run accident. And to show their gratitude, his family takes off with no forwarding address, leaving Jong-du to roam the streets panhandling for tofu. He eventually tracks them down and they make it clear that he shouldn't have. Not one to hold a grudge or take a hint, he moves right into their new digs. Then he sets out to make peace with the surviving relatives of his brother's road kill, where he meets Han Gong-ju (Moon So-ri), the daughter of the victim. Her world might be even shorter on mercy: she's just been abandoned by her lone sibling who continues to reap Gong-ju's handicap benefits.

The tender moments between these two discarded and lonely souls finding happiness together make for a beautiful, sweet film but Lee determinedly makes us earn our rewards. Before you can enjoy the magic of Jong-du waltzing with Gong-ju in his arms in the middle of a traffic jam or a fantasy sequence where Gong-ju's tapestry comes alive and she dances in a shower of rose petals with a baby elephant, you have to suffer through the protracted horror of watching her rot in her apartment with a broken hand mirror as her lone source of entertainment. Throughout this painfully awkward scene, all we hear is the frustrated grunts of someone trapped inside a tortured body. It forces us to take a long hard look at our casual tolerance for such dehumanization.

Actress Moon, who was awarded for her performance at the 2003 Seattle Film Festival, periodically retreats to a parallel universe where she can romp, karaoke and carry on with her boyfriend. Seeing her able body sprout up from her wheelchair serves as a reminder of Moon's mind-blowing performance. After all, there can't be too many contemporary actresses glowing with perfect health who would and could cross their eyes and make animal noises on the big screen for over two hours, and still make you forget that she's not physically disabled in real life.

It's the strength of both lead performances that makes Oasis virtuous rather than simply audacious. Even so, the love scenes are definitely not first date viewing. But for those who allow the film to perform its miracles, this tenderly rendered masterpiece proves worthy of its critical acclaim, in particular Lee's Vancouver Film Festival Humanitarian Award.

Oasis opens Friday, Aug. 20, at the Cinéma du Parc

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