Lee Byung Hun is wildly funny in ‘No Other Choice’

However, long before this plot is set in motion, Park first introduces us to the domestic bliss Man-su has meticulously constructed for himself, and which ends up the fuel to his zany fire. Having purchased the home he grew up in with his middle class parents, he now lives in relative contentment with his wife Lee Miri (Son Yejin), their moody teenage son Si-one (Kim Woo Seung), their developmentally disabled music prodigy daughter Ri-one (Choi So Yul), and two adorably named labradors, Si-two and Ri-two. We’re introduced to this pristine setting through slow-motion shots of the family’s outdoor barbecue, foregrounded by sunlit raindrops that bathe the setting in golden light. This shimmering, idyllic façade quickly shatters when Man-su is given his notice with little more than a blunt note telling him the new owners had “no other choice.”

This excuse abounds throughout the movie, though it’s mostly used by unemployed middle management like Man-su in order to justify their actions—or in the case of one of the alcoholic peers he targets, their inaction, and total loss of motivation, in the face of vast economic downturn. No Other Choice hardly lays the blame for people’s circumstances at their own feet, but a key part of what separates it from the many run-of-the-mill, “eat the rich” satires in the wake of Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite is its gendered introspection into the way economic crises affect male breadwinners, in ways they take out on their domestic partners. However, Man-su’s wife Miri is no pushover, and makes her dissatisfaction known, which only furthers his eccentric spiral into comedic violence, despite his attempts to process the grief of being fired through some complicated self-help rituals.

From left, Choi So Yul as Ri-one and Son Yeji as Lee Miri.

Courtesy of NEON

Although the movie frequently loses focus—Man-su’s central plan takes up a lot less of the 140-minute runtime than you’d expect—the story is practically welded together by Lee’s incandescent charm as a well-meaning, bumbling everyman driven to the point of violence by desperate circumstances. It’s a deeply committed, physically uninhibited performance that’s downright hilarious to watch, given what a one-tracked sad sack Man-su turns out to be, and the many ways Park matches his lead actor’s wild-eyed energy. Lee veers between a personable grin, and vengeful, violent desires he can seldom back up with emotional conviction—he’s often overprepared to the point of ineffectualness—leading to side-splitting misunderstandings with his targets and inventively slapstick scenarios when they inevitably fight back.

There are moments when it seems like more interesting parallel sagas might be unfolding in the lives of the men he follows. However, this rarely turns out to be the case, and it’s a mere side-effect of Park expertly presenting us with an alluring and energetic voyeurism through Man-su’s eyes (and binoculars). It wouldn’t be unfair to say No Other Choice is almost too visually dynamic for a story that fails to keep up with its aesthetic flourishes, but it’s hard to complain about style superseding substance when Park’s stylizations are such a key part of the experience.

With frequent collaborators like Little Drummer Girl cinematographer Kim Woo-hyung and Decision to Leave editor Kim Sang-bum in tow, Park seamlessly crafts enrapturing tableaus whose blocking and framing are humorous all on their own (in another life, he might have drawn the world’s funniest newspaper comic strip). Even when the story seems to meander, the film continues to move at lightning speed thanks to its many eye-popping transitions. There are lulls-a-plenty, but every few scenes, the movie takes off like a rocket.

Director Park Chan-wook behind the scenes of "No Other Choice."

Courtesy of NEON

Comparisons to Parasite will no doubt abound, given the movie’s geographical origins, but No Other Choice is entirely its own beast, in no small part thanks to how contained and limited its protagonist’s purview ends up being. While the movie’s broad strokes harbor hints of lessons about the scramble for survival in a ruthless capitalist system, Man-su only ever lashes out laterally, out of a misguided sense of devotion to those far above him on the class ladder. In a particularly morbid stroke, he’s more than happy to be a cog in the machine. He’s willing to do anything to take his place in the never-ending churn, while using the excuse of his love for his nuclear family (and his wistfulness for a disappearing middle class lifestyle) to grant himself permission.

Man-su is so trapped by his dream of an outmoded way of living—and so in denial of his obsolescence in an increasingly automated world—that he comes to love the glass ceiling placed on his head, with an unrelenting fervor. He believes his devotion to the status quo will earn him a safety net when he’s inevitably cast off the outer walls of the ivory tower once more. While there are funnier and more coherent movies this year, none are likely to have the kind of insatiable energy Park brings to No Other Choice, or the kind of dour comedic stylings with which he and Lee create one of the year’s most compelling losers.