Parasite (2019), a riveting social satire directed by Bong Joon-Ho, is the film of the year. Described as “some nerdy family version of Mission: Impossible” by Bong, Parasite is a film about a parasitic relationship between the poor Kim and the wealthy Park households. Once the son of the Kim household receives a job as the tutor of the daughter of the Park household, the remaining members of the Kim family scheme to be employed by the Parks, often ousting existing employees.
In order to be accepted as a part of the Parks’ polished retinue, the Kims have to adopt certain mannerisms and social conventions to seem more “upper-class,” a part they play impressively well. They seem to have finally found a way to pull themselves out of destitution and into a better life using their resourcefulness and street smarts. However, the illusions melt away when the Parks take a vacation and the Kims have the house to themselves, free from judgemental scrutiny.
The planning and rehearsal that goes into the infiltration of the Park household can be likened to that of a Mission: Impossible episode; every move that the Kims make is relentlessly refined. Only the smallest of details manage to elude them: the ten-year-old son of the Park family eventually notices that each of the members of the Kim family smell the same, even though they pretend to be complete strangers.
The film itself is refined as well: the cinematography, music, and editing are all tasteful. The pacing, too, is impeccable. The storyline and the introduction of new characters congeal to create a compelling narrative about characters that you care for. But the film truly shines in its commentary on the rigidity of the Korean class system through, quite surprisingly, humor.
Parasite showcases the elements of Korean culture that aren’t highlighted in the romanticized K-pop revolution. The stratified class system, of course, is at the center of the film. The way that the two families live starkly contrasts: a rainstorm for the Parks is a triviality, whereas for the Kims, it threatens the survival of their home. The disparity between the Parks’ spacious, immaculate residence and the cramped, squalid semi-basement that the Kims inhabit is symbolic of the massive wealth inequities in modern industrial society.
A more subtle distinction between social classes is represented in the Park patriarch’s understated jabs at the father of the Kim family, particularly repeated comments about his unpleasant smell. This speaks to the cold dismissal of the lower classes by the upper ones; the cruel indifference and intolerance sometimes wrought by success.
Another example of this is seen in the beef that the Park family eats. The highest grade of beef in Korea is called hanwoo, directly translated to beef that is produced and given a grade in Korea. The demand for hanwoo far outweighs the supply, and as a result, hanwoo has become ridiculously overpriced. The Parks can easily afford this outlandishly expensive beef, while the Kims have literally been reduced to folding pizza boxes for a living and eating for free at buffets intended for truck drivers.
Despite the variety of labels that the film has received, it is a satire at heart. Parasite is a film that grapples with the Korean class system and showcases its idiocy until the film becomes hilarious. The title itself carries an interesting double meaning. At first glance it may appear that the Kims are feeding off the Parks, surviving off the products of their financial success. But eventually, it becomes evident that the Parks are helpless and parasitic in their own right, as they’ve outsourced essential tasks like cooking, cleaning, and even some aspects of parenting.
For instance, the mother of the Park family is so scared of disruption in her perfect life that she isn’t aware that her son isn’t actually an artistic genius and that her daughter is secretly kissing her tutor instead of studying for her exams. The detached father of the Parks seems to be a stereotype, but is actually quite characteristic of the parenting strategy that has taken over Korea: parents are often providers for education, not mentors.
Even when the film isn’t tackling large concepts, it is still hilarious. In one particular scene, the poor neighborhood is being fumigated, and instead of suggesting that they close the windows to the toxic gas, the father suggests that they accept the free fumigation. In another, characters mock the tone of North Korean broadcasters.
In America, the most likely criticism of the film will be that it isn’t in English, a factor that will likely dissuade potential audiences from watching the film. And quite frankly, from the perspective of a Korean speaker, it’s difficult to disagree. The subtle nuances of language, the slightly imperfect translations, the inability to capture the entire shot due to the subtitles: these are legitimate concerns. However, English speaking countries are the minority; inevitably, films of incredible caliber will be produced from foreign countries.
The director of Parasite, Bong Joon Ho, argued this exactly: “Once you overcome the 1-inch-tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.”
Parasite has been nominated for six Oscars this year, among them Best Picture and Best Director, a record for a Korean film. It is humorous and cerebral, inventive and novel, and best of all, it’s in Korean. Parasite is 2019’s film of the year: overcome the subtitles and watch it.