Bong Joon-Ho resolutely rejects being labelled a genre filmmaker. Despite this, his name was earned through a series of taut, socially-conscious thrillers. The twist is that Bong’s films are characterised—as is the case with Korean film more widely—by abrupt and sometimes extreme tonal shifts. Scenes may suddenly flip from farce to terror and back again to disorienting effect. Outside of arthouse superstars like David Lynch, general audiences in the West do not have the requisite conditioning to stomach this uneasy frisson. Bong has always sat on an uncomfortable fence between the arthouse and blockbuster crowd; never quite taking off, never quite finding acclaim.
Parasite is the director’s most successful film yet in both spheres. It picked up a BAFTA, and there’s now a full-steam campaign for it to win Best Picture at the Oscars—a ceremony in which foreign-language features have always been shamefully marginalised. But it’s also proved to be a box-office hit, hauling in over a hundred million dollars worldwide (and still counting).
None of this speaks to much at all—but it does indicate that Bong has perfected the balancing act he’s been putting on his whole career. Parasite has all of Bong’s usual eccentricity, but this time raising its head only in service of a script which is as controlled as it is crazy. Cineastes may marvel at Bong’s canny use of space, the brash but beautiful handling of subtext, the ghostly glide of his camera, the film’s impeccable costume design. But none of that flim-flam will get in the way of someone who just wants to enjoy a blackly-comic ride through the lives of its dysfunctional characters.
These characters fall into two groups—a working class and an upper class family. One by one, the working class family infiltrate the upper-classers’ house, taking on jobs as drivers, chefs, private tutors. But as they occupy the richer family’s house, they find their headspaces invaded by unfamiliar new concerns, their freedom more restricted than ever. And that’s without getting into the ghost who lives in the cellar.
For all its twists and turns, Parasite is a film which may not keep you guessing until the last reel—but it starts out the gate strong, introducing its ensemble with remarkable economy. Performances across the board are phenomenal (special mention to the ever-dependent Song Kang-ho, Bong’s personal Buster Keaton; and the quietly powerful Park So-dam), and give its broadly-drawn characters tactility and depth. And its in these moments of truth that Bong the auteur can be found; the man who elevates everything he makes with a sensitive, intelligent and wickedly funny touch.
Parasite is out in cinemas now.
Words by Andrew O’Keefe