POPCORN REVIEWSS

Written by Park Chan-Wook, Lee Kyoung-mi, Don Mckellar, Lee Ja-hye, No Other Choice is quick to establish the contrasting life of Man-su and his family. For instance at the start, you see Min-ri joining her friends for a luxurious game of tennis or other luxuries including dance classes with her husband. But after Man-su’s lay off, the financial situation changes for the family – having to not only forego the luxuries of tennis and dance class, but also let go of their dogs and even cancel their Netflix subscription. The dark humour lies in the same breath while being reflective of a generation that is sold the idea of a lifestyle, while seldom wishing to take a step back even in times of a crisis (read : the job market). In that sense, we all are clones of Man-su in our real worlds – we are left with ‘No Other Choice’ even as the cruel world capitalism continues to thrive.

It is interesting on how the writers handpick a subplot related to the serial killer genre and practically deconstruct it with the inclusion of dark humour. The bizarre-ness of the plot can be determined from the fact on how Man-su, in a bid to get employed again, wishes to kill off three men from his sector, a couple of them who are more qualified than him and the other being a mouthpiece of the capitalist world. Come to think of it, it is a bizarre thought – but the film circles back to the relevance of the title, wherein Man-Su has ‘No Other Choice’. Ironically when you zoom into the lives of the two potential victims of Man-Su, both of them are suffering similar fates as Man-su himself in terms of unemployment.

Beom-mo (Lee Sung-min) may have had more experience in the paper industry than Man-su, but he hasn’t found a job himself for over a year. And his reluctance to branch out in another field, has also strained his relationship with his wife A-ra (Yeom Hye-ran). It is the kind of catch twenty-two situation that forms the dynamic of so many families today, wherein the respect of the family members is directly proportional to how much you earn for them. Likewise, even Si-jo (Cha Seung-won) is shown to be working at a shoe store. The cultural relevance remains on Koreans not wanting to ‘gift’ shoes to people fearing that they will run away, but Si-jo has ‘No Other Choice’ than to make a living for himself and his daughter that he needs to take care of. Just like A-ra, who is tired of her husband’s stubbornness, so much so that prompts her to have an affair with an actor – just to maintain her ‘lifestyle’ that was once a reality with Beom-mo. In other words, she too has ‘No Other Choice’.

It is interesting how any of the characters can be switched with Man-su, and the trajectory of the drama would remain the same. For instance, Beom-mo and Man-su remain the same people in a way, wherein even Man-su suspects his wife Mi-ri of having an affair with a younger dentist during her tryst as a dental assistant. It is ironic on how his tooth decay acts as a metaphor for his decaying wedding that he chooses to ignore as compared to addressing it, and getting it fixed. And it is also interesting on how Man-su is conflicted between warning Beom-mo about his wife’s affair and wanting him to kill him off, all of which transpires in some unhinged humour.

The parallels can also be drawn between the journey of Man-su and his grandfather, the latter who had committed suicide with a North Korean revolver after witnessing the slaughter of 20000 pigs in his farm. His grandfather was a pig farmer and the slaughter of the pigs meant that he needed to find himself a new job, something that had him anxiously kill himself. The motivation of Man-su to take up the job of a serial killer was more to do with the fact that he did not want to end up like his deceased grandfather – an emotional hinge in the screenplay that cuts through the dark humour quotient in the narrative. It is interesting how his step-son would perhaps imbibe the same trauma from Man-su, given that he witnesses Man-su burying a figure in his greenhouse. For Man-su, his childhood home always is an object of sentimental value – even while having to ensure bright futures for his children, one of whom has started stealing mobiles in order to sell them and earn a quick buck.

The entire killing episodes can be viewed as a metaphor for the corporate life, wherein corporate employees are nothing but crabs, trying to pull each other down while on their way up. It is the exact trap set by capitalists who are sure to exploit these traits for their benefits. In the same breath, the pressure is built even from the family members of the corporate employees, not willing to let go of the luxurious lifestyle that they are so used to. The case in point being A-re who lies to deflect the killings from Man-su to a character who is deceased, and Mi-ri, who does witness her husband burying a dead body but chooses to be quiet – maybe out of fear of being killed herself, but also because turning her husband in would mean giving up on the luxurious life that she has experienced until now.

In that sense, you do seem to think that the ending for Man-su is a happy one. You see him getting a job of a manager at a Moon Paper company – a dream job for many. He doesn’t really have to bother about competition too given that he has bumped majority of them in his bid to the top. And he is devoid of any suspicions too. But when there are no people under him, and given how everything around him is automated. And with AI coming into the picture, even his job is short-lived, his luxuries having a shelf life, his family being only moments away from ‘maybe’ turning himself in. So when you see him celebrating at the end, it is more about living in the present for Man-su, an imagery that makes for a haunting watch! And that sums up the screenplay which is a scary reflection of the endgame, something that threatens to impact millions of lives like Man-su. Is contract killing the option then? Or would be see people like Man-su switching to the job of ‘The Front Man’ in a Squid-Game like setup?