Parasite

“How bad were the Academy Awards this year? The winner is a movie from South Korea, what the hell was that all about?” We got enough problems with South Korea with trade and on top of it, they give them the best movie of the year. Was it good?  I don’t know. I’m looking for, like – can we get like Gone With The Wind back, please?” 

(Donald Trump at a political rally)

We live in a time where the oxymoron dumbsmart has ushered in two political leaders. Both Boris Johnson and Donald Trump know exactly what they’re doing when they make retrograde pronouncements. Trump’s attack on Parasite and championing of Gone With The Wind is all part of his strategy to win the racist vote. New foreign film: bad; old white film: good.

Whatever Donald Trump’s actual beliefs, what is evident is that the Academy did something they’ve never done before: awarded a non-English film Best Picture. They should have done it last year with Roma: a gorgeous document of domestic and national crisis; instead they gave it to Green Book, a picture director Spike Lee described as ‘not my cup of tea.’ The reason for this is because it was essentially Driving Miss Daisy, an unworthy Oscar winner, only with the positions changed: a white man drives a black man and learns to be less racist on the way. On the surface, the inversion of Miss Daisy should have been a progressive move, but by focussing so heavily on the white character’s arc it became an exercise in liberal virtue-signalling.

Seeing director Bong Joon-ho receive his award, there was a feeling in the room that the right person won. Many directors are fans of non-English cinema and owe a debt to its output. Sam Mendes, for example, was interviewed on the brilliant BBC 4 show Life Cinematic where he spoke fervently about his love of Jeunet and Caro’s French much admired, Delicatessen. Just as Britain re-packaged black American rhythm and blues into 60’s pop music, Hollywood has co-opted ‘foreign’ cinema too.

“Once you overcome the one-inch-tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films,” Joon-ho said on receiving a Golden Globe award last month. The comment is symptomatic of his impish wit. I’m sure for him his pride over the success of the film is tempered by the confusion of what's taken Western audiences so long to recognise films like his. The essence of cinema is the same: plot, characterisation, action, conflict, resolution – the only difference is the language. If you can read, why should subtitles be an issue?

Parasite is the seventh motion picture by Joon-ho and marks a return to complete Korean, following the diversions of Snowpiercer and Okja, which contained western actors. It begins with a family of four in a semi-basement apartment. There is no room for rooms, let alone privacy. All live on top of one another, doing their best to co-exist in a cramped environment. This is a hand to mouth existence where the brood must scavenge for work and wi-fi. With a signal hard to source, the father offers wisdom: ‘One must reach into the heavens. Up.’ With their underground existence, geography already dictates where they look; as downtrodden people they figuratively aspire to higher ground too.

The opportunity comes for one member to climb out of poverty. The son, Ki-woo, is asked to deputise as a tutor for a friend travelling abroad. The job will be a good earner, since it’s over the rainbow on the Seoul's Elysium hills. There is only one small problem: he’s not qualified to teach. Military training got in the way of that. Fortunately for Ki-woo his sister, Ki-jung, is a student of Photoshop. She fabricates his qualifications, giving him an Oxford University degree; he now has the means to gain entry.

The Kims home.

This digital subterfuge is just the start for the series of deceits that will follow. With Ki-woo installed in the Park home, he sets in motion a domino effect that will culminate in work for all the family. Making more money than they’ve ever made, under false pretences, they are parasites, manipulating their hosts to achieve fulfilment. The film is an attack on socialism then, with the working-class  ‘sponging off’ hardworking, enterprising people?

Joon-ho has written about class struggle before in Snowpiercer. Set in a dystopian future, survivors fight for survival on a train divided by class lines: upper at the front; lower at the back. Parasite is in that tradition, raising difficult questions about how people behave when they’ve got nothing; the lengths they will go to to get something. What’s interesting about the movie is how the title is slippery: the Kim family may look as if they’re taken advantage of the Park family; however, the Park’s are only deceived because they're naïve to their privilege. When a storm rips through the basement apartments of Seoul, the mother Choi is oblivious; the next day she celebrates the clear skies: ‘Zero air pollution. Rain washed it all away.’ The film is an attack on capitalism then: the ivory tower that protects the privileged comes at the expense of the poor who sustain it.

The Parks home.

The wonder of Parasite is the film never feels didactic. I’m a big fan of J.B. Priestley’s An Inspector Calls, which I teach to GCSE students, yet it’s a two-dimensional portrait of capitalism. Here, the Park family aren’t repulsive. In fact, their behaviour isn't as gratuitous as the Kims. What Joon-ho’s film laments is how brutalising capitalism can be: how it can make dignified people do undignified things in order to keep up. 

In a film where everyone is parasitical, it has you questioning the framework we live within: Shouldn’t our economic and moral systems elevate, not diminish, us? Currently, the people at the bottom are angry and envious; those at the top ignorant and complacent. 

Joon-ho’s movie asks: Is this what we want? Is this the best we can do?

Parasite is in cinema now.