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New Korean Cinema’s Dark Comedies Foreshadow The Social Message Of ‘Parasite’

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 In the opening scene of Bong Joon-ho’s film Parasite, the down-on-their-luck Kim family is sprayed with insecticide and decides it’s a situation they can take advantage of. Free extermination. The audience laughs at their decision, while also cringing at the thought of choking down clouds of insecticide.

That laughter while cringing is the cinematic goal of dark comedy. By making fun of uncomfortable—and sometimes untenable— situations, dark comedies provide enough emotional distance for viewers to possibly consider difficult situations objectively. That scene in Parasite becomes symbolic of the way the poor family hopes to take advantage of an economic system so toxic they cannot escape unharmed.

Bong deserves much credit for the dark humor in his film, employing joke after wink-wink-joke to slyly seduce viewers into accepting a tragic reality, but he’s not the only Korean director to deftly demand attention with such dark comedic elements.

Several such works are being presented during Relentless Invention: New Korean Cinema, 1996–2003, which showcases the creative film explosion that followed the end of the nation’s military rule and the easing of government censorship. Staged by Film at Lincoln Center and Subway Cinema, in association with the Korean Cultural Center New York,  the films air between Nov. 22 and Dec. 4 in New York City. The showcase includes films ranging from backwoods horror to romantic comedy, as well as some that blend genres. 

Of the four dark comedies in the showcase, one is the earliest work directed by Bong Joon-ho and the rest feature his favorite star Song Kang-ho. Each of these films exhibit some of the same elements explored so masterfully in Parasite, particularly the chokehold of an exploitive economic system and how desperation erodes moral principles.

“Just like all the other films in this series, these four were selected as representative and essential early works of a new generation of cinephile filmmakers—including Bong Joon-ho and Kim Jee-woon—who were responsible for the creative and commercial renaissance that completely transformed the Korean film industry, and made the Korean film market into the fifth largest in the world, based on revenue,” said film curator and writer Goran Topalovic, one of the series’ programmers. “This movement, which is known today as New Korean Cinema, took place roughly between mid-1990s and mid-2000s.”

The chosen comedies exhibit playfulness in their blending of genre forms, while highlighting social issues.

“This playfulness with genre conventions, and expression of both commercial and arthouse sensibilities has continued to evolve to this day, and has proven just as effective on the global stage, and could perhaps be deemed as a perfectly suited form of cinematic expression for our times, the most recent example being Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite,” said Topalovic.

Consider Kim Jee-woon’s comedy The Foul King. The film is a must if you want to see Parasite star Song dressed up as an Elvis impersonator, serenading the woman of his dreams in a wrestling ring, or if you just want to see him in something other than Parasite. In this film Song stars as a bank clerk who can’t get out of his rut, visually demonstrated by the fact that his tie gets stuck in the subway door on his way to work. His boss hates him and often demonstrates his loathing by trapping him in a chokehold. Song’s character decides to try wrestling and his dedication begins to change his life. The character, who previously spent his free time watching TV in bed, while eating junk food, learns to flip his opponents and easily slip out of chokeholds. It’s funny because being a professional wrestler is so different from his day job, but there’s nothing funny about struggling to keep a boring, ill-suited job in a highly competitive society. Such an extraordinary escape from the humdrum is rare. Like the Kim family in Parasite, Song’s character wants to break out of the chokehold of his existence.

Released in 2000, the film also features Jang Hang-sun, Jang Jin-young and Jung Woong-in. 

Kim Jee Woon’s earlier horror-drama-comedy, The Quiet Family, is also included in the showcase. The family is “quiet” much the same way neighbors describe axe murderers after the killers are captured. He was such a quiet guy, neighbors tend to say, it’s hard to believe he was capable of such awful things. It’s not that the family is evil. They just seem to be stuck in an untenable situation, one that erodes their sense of right and wrong. 

The family, played by Park In-hwan, Na Moon-hee, Song Kang-ho, Choi Min-sik, Go Ho-kyung and Lee Yoon-seong, buys a lodge in the countryside, hoping that it will support them. It takes a long time for the first guest to arrive, and when he does, he kills himself. Afraid that calling the police will garner bad publicity for an already struggling business, the family decides to just bury the body. But then more guests die and before long the family has accrued a heap of bodies as well as considerable karmic debt. Although they begin their downward trajectory as innocent bystanders, soon their moral boundaries become blurred. They develop a talent for digging graves and burying one more body for financial gain does not seem that bad. Much like the Kim family in Parasite, the quiet family does what they must to survive.

Like most New Korean Cinema works, these four dark comedies may first appear to be standard genre exercises, but they are more complex beneath the surface.

“As they engage and entertain the audience with genre trappings, they implicitly hold up a mirror to Korea’s society and its complex modern history, and are just as effective as social satires,” said Topalovic. “For example, the horror-like atmosphere of the Park family’s lodge in The Quiet Family is a microcosm that represents Korea’s 1970’s oppressive political climate during the authoritarian rule of Park Chung-hee.”

No. 3, directed by Song Neung-han, is a film ostensibly about gangsters but it’s also about society as a whole and the fight it takes to maintain a foothold, let alone get ahead. The main character, Tae-ju, played by Han Suk-kyu, starts out as the number three man in a gang, but he desperately wants to be number one. His girl, Hyun-ji, played by Lee Mi-yeon, is a bar worker who wants to be a poet. She’s very fond of the French poet Rimbaud, who she explains is “as famous as Al Capone.” Tae-ju has a lot to deal with. Not only does he study on the side to be more useful to his boss, but he must contend with other gangsters vying for his desired position, as well as an instructor in the art of thuggery, played by Song Kang-ho, and a zealous prosecutor, played by Choi Min-sik. Tae-ju aspires to improve his odds, much like the Kim family, but following the rules does not always lead to success.

Highly stylistic, No. 3 creates scenes of surreal violence that resemble explosive creations of modern art. Some of the bloodshed is so stylized in this 1997 film, it borders on the absurd, but being inured to the effects of violence is what it takes for gangsters to survive and thrive.

Also featured in the showcase is Bong Joon-ho’s directorial debut Barking Dogs Don’t Bite, but don’t let the title fool you. This is not a cute movie about dog lovers. Although no actual dogs were harmed in the making of this film, the main character Ko Yun-ju, played by Lee Sung Jae, is so cruel to the neighborhood dogs, it seems likely he will become a serial killer. What he really aspires to is a steady gig as a professor, something that’s difficult for a man of limited means to accomplish, since it may involve bribery. His pregnant wife makes demands that he can’t fill, much like the walnuts she makes him promise to crack. He only needs to fill a glass, she says, but as soon as he does, she eats a few walnuts, and his Sisyphean task is never done. His frustration boils over into animal cruelty, but he’s not the only threat to pets in his environment. There’s a subterranean level to the apartment building and it’s inhabited. If Ko thinks he has it bad, and he’s desperate, some have it worse.

Some of the film’s plot elements and visual motifs, such as characters calmly accepting poisonous clouds of insecticide, are also found in Parasite, and they may have been imagined in this film. Everyone who lives in Ko’s apartment building is confined by society’s dictates, but some residents have more options than others. Money offers some inhabitants a chance.

The story has a heroine in Park Hyun-nam, an apartment building worker. Played by Bae Doona, the character finds one of the building’s missing dogs, but ultimately gets no credit for it. Again, the film’s message is that it’s hard to change your life when the system is rigged against you. Laughter makes such disparity easier to bear. 

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