Though it's adapted from a novel from the '90s (Donald Westlake's 'The Ax', previously filmed as The Axe by Costa-Gavras in 2006), Park Chan-Wook's No Other Choice speaks to very modern fears around job stability in the age of AI. Like Bong Joon-ho's Parasite, it's centred on desperate measures taken by a protagonist to acquire a job, but there is no class satire here. AI doesn't care about our socio-economic backgrounds. It's coming for us all.
When the paper manufacturing company where he's worked for the last 25 years is taken over by new American owners, Yoo Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) finds himself a victim of downsizing as the company moves in the direction of automation. Yoo's unemployment results in major lifestyle changes for his family. His two dogs are sent to live with his in-laws. His wife (Son Ye-jin), takes a job as a dental assistant and quits her dance classes. Their young daughter's cello lessons are curtailed. Netflix is cancelled. And worst of all, Yoo is force to put his beloved childhood home on the market.
Desperate to return to the world of paper manufacturing, Yoo decides his best chance is to eliminate the competition. Literally. Advertising a false job in the industry, he collects the applicants' CVs and determines which of them would be most likely to get the job. Narrowing it down to three candidates, he embarks on a plan to murder each of them.
No Other Choice is as dark as you'd expect from Chan-Wook, but it's also his most comedic offering since 2006's I'm a Cyborg, But That's OK. As Hitchcock demonstrated with The Trouble with Harry, the mechanics of the thriller and comedy genres often overlap. Think of the moment in every Christmas panto when the audience is compelled to shout "he's behind you!" at the stage. Now consider how often that same scenario is replicated in thrillers and horror movies. We already know Chan-Wook is a master of the thriller, and with No Other Choice he proves himself adept at comedy, simply by employing the same techniques he uses in his genre films. He places his anti-hero in situations that simultaneously create tension, suspense and laughs, and he uses Byung-hun the same way Hitchcock used Cary Grant, a handsome bumbler whom we can't help but root for. There are scenes where we find ourselves digging our nails into our seats in apprehension of Yoo's plot backfiring while also laughing at his ineptitude.
Many of the laughs arise from how Chan-Wook exaggerates the world of the paper industry. Characters talk lovingly about different paper textures, subscribe to a magazine called "Pulp Man," and boast of winning "Pulp Man of the Year" awards. The paper industry isn't exactly associated with glamour, but in a time of such insecurity any career is now aspirational. Working with cinematographer Kim Woo-hyung, Chan-Wook opts to shoot his film in the bright tones of a comedy rather than the darker shades of a thriller. It has the cartoonish quality of a Frank Tashlin caper, and some of its inventively gruesome imagery wouldn't be out of place in a Looney Tunes short.
Yoo is a pathetic and let's face it, downright evil figure, but Chan-Wook manipulates us into rooting for him regardless. Time is taken early on to establish how happy Yoo is with his lot in life. He has a loving family and an enviable home. He has spent his life slaving away to build all of this, and it's simply snatched away from him to make some multi-millionaire a little richer. With practically every multi-millionaire currently examining how they might ditch human workers and turn to AI to make themselves a little richer, Yoo's desperation is something we can all relate to, even if we're not willing to commit murder to ensure we're the last human standing at the factory.
Directed by: Park Chan-Wook
Starring: Lee Byung-hun, Son Ye-jin, Park Hee-soon, Lee Sung-min, Yeom Hye-ran, Cha Seung-won
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