Aucun autre choix

"Paper has fed me for 25 years. Honey, I have no other choice." Park Chan-wook, master of black comedy, definitively already a living legend, delivers yet another masterpiece. So dark, so funny. The plot takes quite a while to fully kick in. But once it does, the film is unstoppably riveting. A flawless central performance from Lee Byung-hun, and fantastic turns from the rest of the cast.🔥

Social media coaches haven't picked up on this employment strategy yet.

Finally a movie for all your jobless friends. Not only will they be entertained, they'll learn something. Just make sure they're not horticulture experts and that they don't own North Korean firearms.

Social commentary here is debatable. It doesn't really matter, though. Park Chan-wook is still endlessly creative with his material, from his camera angles to his editing.

While the opening scenes set up a thriller with a formula, you soon realize that it's comedic pathos that follows its own rhythm.

By the way, these are the effects of writing everything on your phone. Buy some notebooks once in a while.

"No Other Choice" is the latest from Korean director Park Chan-wook. I saw it in a film festival and assume it will be more widely available here in the States in the near future.

When the story begins, you see that Man-soo has a good life. He's a manager at a paper plant, has a lovely wife, two kids and lives in an amazingly lovely home. Life is good...and then one day he is fired. Being an older worker, he has a lot of difficulty finding work and later, in desperation, he comes upon the idea of killing his competition for jobs!

To say this movie is dark is an understatement! It's very darkly comical and it's certainly NOT the sort of thing you'd expect to come from Hollywood. It's very well acted, very engaging and is well worth seeing. Not for everyone, however, as it is a bit bloody and nasty, but I think the director did a good job not overwhelming the audience with gore.

Park Chan-wook is widely regarded as one of the finest filmmakers working today. A versatile multi-talent, he has dabbled in a variety of genres, while leaving his own unmistakable authorial stamp on each. From the operatic revenge of 'Oldboy' and the rest of the so-called Vengeance Trilogy, to the melancholic machinations of 'Decision to Leave', and even the off-kilter eroticism of 'Thirst,' his films are united by an enduring fascination with obsession, violence and moral rot.

'No Other Choice' is another powerful entry in Park's ongoing exploration of human darkness. Based on Donald E. Westlake's 1997 novel 'The Ax,' it follows Man-Su, a manager at a paper company whose cushy life is abruptly derailed by unexpected unemployment. As months pass and job prospects evaporate, desperation curdles into a grim logic, leading him to conclude that eliminating his rivals may be the only way back to stability.

There is something of Ted Kotcheff's 'Fun with Dick and Jane' in the film's DNA, as Park leans into the dark comedy of middle-class collapse. Like Kotcheff's film, 'No Other Choice' treats unemployment as a destabilising force, with Park drawing considerable humour from the indignities that follow. The difference is that- where the Hollywood comedy offers catharsis- Park lets his jokes accumulate into something far more corrosive.

Violent without being gratuitous, funny without being forced, it is a masterclass in narrative writing. Some critics may point out obvious similarities to Bong Joon-ho's 'Parasite,' but the resemblance is largely superficial. Where Bong's film sprawled into a broad, allegorical portrait of class conflict, Park's is colder and more procedural, concerned less with spectacle than the methodical erosion of moral boundaries.

It is about a desperate man forced to commit acts he does not wish to commit, who sacrifices his morality for his family at a time where economic uncertainty reigns. A study in compromise, Man-Su's descent is neither sudden nor sensational; it is the product of incremental pressure, each small decision rationalised as necessary, each act pushing him further into a moral grey zone. Park traces this erosion of ethics with precision, showing how desperation can warp even ordinary, law-abiding people into committing acts they would once have found unthinkable.

Subtle physical motifs mirror this inner struggle. Man-Su's attempts to bend the trees in his greenhouse reflect his desire to control his fate, while his persistent tooth pain- echoing the bodily articulation of moral and psychological strain felt by Nick Nolte's character in Paul Schrader's 'Affliction'- gives tangible form to his mounting anxiety. Through these details, Park illustrates how pressure can corrode ethics, translating inner turmoil into a gripping, lived experience.

The film is also a sharp critique of middle-class precarity. Through Man-Su's struggle, Park highlights the cruelty of economic competition, where structural pressures leave individuals feeling there is no alternative but transgression. Crucially, Man-Su is seeking work in the declining paper industry, turning his job hunt into a grim exercise in scarcity rather than opportunity. As in Kiyoshi Kurosawa's 'Tokyo Sonata', the film exposes the quiet humiliations and psychological toll of searching for work in a competitive economy that has little left to offer.

Yet, these grim themes are never divorced from humour. The narrative intertwines dark comedy with moral tension, drawing laughter from the indignities Man-Su suffers and the increasingly elaborate lengths he goes to preserve his livelihood. The humour does not release the tension; it amplifies it, making each act of violent desperation feel simultaneously absurd and horrifying.

This incremental escalation- the chain of decisions that lead from minor ethical lapses to serious criminality- is central to the narrative's tension. Park's story is procedural in nature, demonstrating that moral collapse is not an abstract concept but a methodical process. By letting the audience inhabit Man-Su's thought process, the film creates a subtle complicity: we understand his logic even as we recoil from the consequences, making the narrative as intellectually gripping as it is viscerally unsettling.

Behind the camera, director of photography Kim Woo-hyung brings a strikingly naturalistic beauty to proceedings, using space and architecture to visualise Man-Su's growing alienation. Frequently stunning, the cinematography is patient and observant, allowing environments to speak as loudly as dialogue. Modern office blocks, factories and industrial sites are framed with crisp clarity, their glass and concrete surfaces reflecting a world of efficiency and progress that has quietly discarded those who can no longer keep pace.

Kim makes particularly effective use of light, as well as spatial contrast, frequently juxtaposing rigid, contemporary structures with pockets of nature. Parks, woodlands and plants intrude upon the film's urban environments, not as places of refuge, but as reminders of a slower, vanishing world that sits uneasily alongside modern economic life. This tension between nature and modernity mirrors Man-Su's internal conflict: a man shaped by older ideals of loyalty, stability and hard work, now stranded in a system that no longer rewards them.

The visual attention to space carries through into Ryu Seong-hie's meticulous production design. Man-Su's house, in particular, becomes a crucial extension of the same visual logic and narrative themes- a place that should signify comfort and stability, instead symbolising the quiet strain beneath the surface of middle-class security. Neat, outwardly respectable and surrounded by plants, the home reflects an older promise of permanence, one increasingly out of step with the encroaching economic reality.

Further, Cho Young-wuk's score is sparse and judicious, underscoring Man-Su's mounting unease, while also amplifying its comedic edge (a scene in which three characters scuffle to booming music is a particular highlight). Kim Ho-bin and Kim Sang-beom's editing is similarly precise, favouring clarity and rhythm over urgency. Yet they still allow room for artful transitions that quietly bridge time and space. These moments of artistic elegance prevent the film from ever feeling mechanical.

Lee Byung-hun stars as Man-Su, conveying his desperation, moral compromise and simmering anxiety with remarkable restraint. Lee never overdoes it, allowing small gestures, measured expressions and even silence to carry enormous weight. Physical details- the way he flinches, tenses or nurses his persistent tooth pain- become expressive markers of his inner turmoil. Always a commanding presence on screen, he is once again superb, effortlessly anchoring the film with a performance that is as subtle as it is compelling.

Son Ye-jin does similarly fine work as Man-Su's wife, Miri. Their relationship forms the emotional heart of the film, grounded in genuine affection and mutual care. Miri is far from a passive figure; she is independent and capable, finding work long before Man-Su does and demonstrating agency within their lives. However, her instincts and choices also align with her husband's, reflecting a shared pragmatism and prioritisation of family. The chemistry between Son and Lee is undeniable, making their domestic life feel lived-in and real. Son plays her to a tee, conveying warmth, intelligence and quiet strength with effortless naturalism.

Their supporting cast do not let them down. Kim Seung Woo and So Yul Choi, as their children Si-one and Ri-one, respectively, both impress, demonstrating an emotional intelligence beyond their years. Yeom Hye-ran is hilarious as the disappointed wife of one of Man-Su's targets, while Park Hee-soon delights as an insidiously smug influencer. In addition, in the smaller role of Man-Su's second target, Cha Seung-won is quietly heartbreaking, bringing depth and nuance even with limited screen time.

Darkly comic, tense and engaging, Park Chan-wook's 'No Other Choice' is a masterclass in narrative precision. Meticulous cinematography, elegant production design and a stirring score mirror the incremental erosion of morality at the film's heart. Anchored by superb performances from Lee Byung-hun and Son Ye-jin, and buoyed by a sharp, versatile supporting cast, every element works in concert to illuminate desperation, compromise and the suffocating cruelty of modern life. In short, it's irresistible- you really have no other choice but to watch it.

Watched at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival.

This is no where near the best movie Park Chan-wook has made. But Chan-wook once again strikes another dark comedy thriller exploring about the modern climates of the social class system, labor force, and commentary between people, contradictions, and insanity. Chan-wook has always never shy away from dark yet hilarious approaches with the writing and tone. Throughout, Chan-wook takes liberty on bringing the atmosphere, humor, production designs, camerawork and writing to light with's it's strong ambitious direction. Each scene with the camerawork felt purposeful, the production designs, costumes, music, and sound designs are excellent, and Chan-wook's direction is brilliant and meaningful.

The character portrayed by Lee Byung-hun is interesting as both a depressed, frustrated, at times, pathetic and engaging character. Byung-hun gives one of the best performances in recent times, alongside with the other performances as well. I really enjoyed how the Byung-hun's character was portrayed and developed. As his character resonates with the modern critique of the workforce, people, and the paradox between one another. The writing is pretty great as the irony and satirical aspects explored were well-written and quite brilliant.

While I did wish some of the other characters could have been developed a little more, as a whole, Chan-wook reminds us why he is one of the master's of Korean cinema.