Parasite (Dir Bong Joon-ho, 2h14m)

By now, Parasite's reputation proceeds it; at time of writing, it holds a Golden Globe, the Palme D'or, and six Oscar nominations, a first for a Korean film, not to mention nigh universal critical and public acclaim. It certainly, even in a career full of remarkable and singular films from director Bong Joon-Ho, which includes the monster film, The Host and comic-book adaption Snowpiercer, both of which rank among the highest grossing films in Korean cinema, cements Bong as one of cinema's finest recent artists.

Parasite, with such heavy expectations, is more than the sum of its awards. At its heart are the Kim family, a nigh destitute quartet of down-on-their-luck types who eventually begin to form a symbiotic relationship with the wealthy Park family, through quick-witted plotting and opportunism. Bong is nothing but sympathetic to his protagonists, but casts them as indicative of those left behind by the ownward march of wealthy society, and, thematically and visually draws comparisons between the families. Parasite opens, after a static shot on their grubby window onto the world, an image that the film returns to several times with the Kims bemoaning that the wi-fi they are scrounging from an upstairs flat has been cut off, and often returns to their poverty, their tiny hovel that eventually floods leaving them homeless, the bum that urinates outside their house, the cans of cheap beer that litter
their table, the simple, bare, and downbeat existence.

With the son,  Ki-woo, (played by Choi Woo-shik) of the family being gifted first a scholar's rock (a naturally occurring rock connected with good fortune and wealth that thematically becomes both a blessing and a curse), and then a job opportunity by friend Min-hyuk as the English tutor for the Kim's daughter, Da-hye, which proves to be the family's break into good fortune, as slowly and surely the entire family begin to usurp the positions of the Parks other employees, through a mixture of deceit, blackmail, and positive, and blackly comic, skulduggery, whilst worming their way into the affections and trust of the Park family. That we remain entirely sympathetic to the Kims, even as things begin to spiral out of their control, is Bong's masterstroke.



For, whilst the Kims are utterly sympathetic, a white-collar family forced to turn to trickery and subterfuge to keep their heads above water-quite literally, towards the film's shocking denouement-and positively symbolic of a country that, for all its recent quasi-coronation as the epitome of cool and a major power in popular culture, through K-Pop and other cultural exports, still struggles, as much of the developed world does, with staggering inequality, represented by the Parks. The Parks are, simply, stupid, fantastically wealthy idiots who are feckless, unable to cook, clean, or it seems exist without the help-at one point, Yeon-gyo, the matriarch of the Parks, a young, and almost airheaded (but perfectly poised performance byCho Yeo-jeong) admits as such, saying she simply cannot cook or clean.

But Parasite goes further than simply showing the rich Parks as ineffectual adults, stunted and sealed from reality by their wealth, and seemingly not even aware of the beauty of their house, possessions and surroundings. Bong has always been a director whose films attack the status quo, and here he is all guns blazing. It's without a doubt that this film holds much in common, in its full frontal assault on the divide, economic and otherwise, with Rian Johnson's Knives Out, especially in its twitchy fear from the upper class of the usurping, "undeserving" poor and Othered "help", and Jordan Peele's Us, with which the film shares a lingering, horrifying underbelly. Bong, however, is utterly merciless, where Johnson and Peele allow satirical respite.

The Parks, bluntly, are not just rich and stupid, but wilfully so; the con that the Kims play works not simply because they are good at it-several sequences puncutate the film and endear us to the family-but because the Parks want to fall for it. Dong-ik, the patriach, (a slickly charming Lee Sun-kyun, who seems ineffectual, and practically playing at being a CEO in the single scene we see him at work), finds himself sharing common ground with his driver, Kim patriach Ki-taek, (long-running Bong collaborator Song Kang-ho, who captures the desperation and down-beaten sense of a man who feels unable to provide for his family perfectly).

And this stupidity, this utter fecklessness, this belief in the Kims that eventually leads as much to the Parks downfall as it does to the Kims, is perfectly personified in Da-song, an enfant terrible who pulls his family around to his whim, acts up, chases cheap and tawdry fads, including his obsession with cowboys and Indians, and tortured artist shtick that is utterly taken advantage of by Ki-jeong, the daughter of the Kims, who nimbly works her way into the Parks affections, in particular Yeon-Gyo's by utterly playing to this. He is nothing more or less than a spoil brat and The Parks are nothing more than spoilt brats, and they are almost pathetically useless without the Kims-it's not far from Bong's aim, in my honest opinion, that he intends the Parks, not the Kims, as the parasite of the title, a creature that feeds off its hardworking host and gives nothing in return, and his disdain for the Parks, and for people like the Parks, is palpable

This film, though, is more than just a polemic against the spoilt insular rich of Korea in the early 21st century, or indeed against the country in general, from the internet cafés to a nation hooked to their phones and superficial, skin-level appearance. It is savagely, bleakly funny, for one, and even in translation, the satire hammers home-at one point, much as The Farewell did to equally tragicomic pathos, there's a sequence, a waterfight against the local habitually urinating bum, where the slo-motion kicks in, the score swells, and our heroes seem content in the moment. Elsewhere, the social commentary comes thick and fast, from bawdy sexual comedy, including perhaps the most uncomfortable sex scene of cinema in the last few years, to, as the wheels begin to come off the Kims plan, a genuinely bizarre scene in which their aggressor approximates belligerent North Korean newsreader and condemns the Kims to death by swallowing the DPK's last warhead, in a scene that's as disturbing and tense as it is funny.

It is also, even in the work of a director that's nimbly walked the tightrope between pure art cinema and populist thrillers for over a decade, a stunningly beautiful film that practically could be silent, such is the story-telling from its intricately choreographed shots. Here, Bong subtly plays with the composition of his frames to show the ever changing structures of power, with staircases and the windows and interiors of both the Kim and Park households. At points, the emptiness, the blandness of the Parks is laid fully bare; there is something cold, almost unwelcoming about the Parks' house, for all its beauty, and at points it almost feels like another character, pervasive and omnipresent.

The camera holds, for example, on both the Kims during a dining scene at the Parks' house, and on the Parks during a tense sequence where the Kims are forced to hide, whilst the tight spaces of the Kims' meagre dwelling often leads to shots that feel tightly held, almost cramped, but intimate compared to the dispassionate and detached Parks. Moreover, the fulcrum of power between the Kims and Parks is encapsulated perfectly in the way that Bong and his cinematographer, Hong Kyung-pyo, shoot sequences, from the placing of characters in shots, to the way that shots are framed, held and even structured. It seems effortless, but only adds itself to the intricate social satire and thriller sensibilities of Parasite.

At first glance, Parasite certainly may seem like a film almost overwhelmed by expectations, a film heralded as the best foreign language film of the decade before it's a month old, in which its stars are already rubbing shoulders with the very upper class and very "cool Korea" zeitgeist it's aimed at the jugular of.  Parasite, however, is more than a collection of accolades, heavyweight as they are. It is something more powerful, more unsettling-a multi-faceted exploration of social satire, savage critique of class, slow-burn thriller and lingeringly disturbing horror movie, an undeniable classic on arrival, a barbed, unflinching attack on the parasitic rich and powerful.

Rating: Must See (Personal Recommendation)