Submitting to the System in 'No Other Choice'

“There is no other choice.”

The first time we hear this titular line in Park Chan-wook’s latest film, it is to justify the wave of layoffs that hits the protagonist, Yoo Man-su (Lee Byung-hun). Americans have bought out Solar Paper, the papermaking company with which he spent 25 distinguished years. The decisive phrase – indicating here an obligatory revocation of employment – soon becomes a phrase he employs in his train of consciousness. Later, other characters – some of the protagonist’s “rivals” – say it out loud. Those close to him appear to accept this unchangeable outcome, even if they never voice it, thus admitting defeat to the system they live in. So, we tell ourselves, we have no other option. In truth, if we submit to the removal of choice, the burden of responsibility no longer lies with us. This, in turn, raises another question: is a system that forces such choices worth saving?

© Ascot Elite Entertainment

I have written before about Park Chan-wook’s career; across his entire body of work, the Korean filmmaker makes clear that he is fascinated by the human condition, by excesses and extremes, and by what might drive someone, for example, to take another person’s life. In several of his films, the protagonist displays a thirst to achieve their most personal and intimate desires, disregarding both the means and collateral damage of their actions in order to succeed. In many of those movies, watchers could argue that the victims were asking for it or that, at least, their fate came as a consequence of poor choices. In No Other Choice, Chan-wook goes even further.

Read Pedro's 'Decision to Leave' review from 2022

It doesn't matter that our protagonist has an enviable résumé, that he's a company lifer, that he's the best fit for the job. When a new administration arrives, it decides to fire many people. This is followed by an unexpected surge in unemployment, and that's when Yoo Man-su sees no alternative but to kill not only the person who occupies the position he covets, but also his biggest rivals for the gig. In a world where only a few survive, perhaps the survivor is the one willing to make the most sacrifices, even if those sacrifices destroy their very being. 

Here, there are no characters who wronged the protagonist, warranting special revenge. These are people just like the protagonist: good workers who lost their livelihoods. In some cases, they even lost their motivation to live. Some cope better with the loss than he did and thus fight to rebuild their lives. And then there are just those who are lucky – so by consequence, they must disappear. 

Handling the film’s tone is a world-sized challenge. Chan-wook adapts The Ax, a work by Donald Westlake, previously adapted for cinema by Costa-Gavras in a 2005 French film of the same name. Even as an admirer of the French adaptation, I can attest that what Chan-wook puts on screen is superior in every possible way. There are new scenes that work incredibly well; I highlight the back-to-back pairing of what many are calling the scene of the year – the disastrous first murder – and a fascinating, explosive couple’s scene that begins in a ballroom and ends in the bedroom. But the auteur’s principal accomplishment is in tone. While Costa-Gavras nailed the bitterness of what unfolds in his adaptation, Chan-wook heightens the tension with more comedic moments, leaving us even more uncomfortable when we realize the gravity of the subject matter: we are laughing at the total dissolution of humanity.

Naturally, Yoo Man-su justifies himself by claiming he has no alternative. Even those around him eventually come to accept that they will undertake any means necessary to make their loved ones smile again. Yet, the crumbling of society is also plain to see. The opening scene of the film shows his family in the garden. It is a beautiful day, the sun is shining, and happiness fills the air. In one of the final scenes, Chan-wook presents the family in the same setting, but things have changed. Caution and fear are obvious, and time has taken its toll. A storm rages, even though the weather forecast tells us better days are coming. Will they?

Chan-wook has never shied away from social criticism, but No Other Choice is inarguably his most subversive critique of the capitalist system. With the replacement of humans by AI, many analysts predict there will be unprecedented numbers of unemployed; this is a story that could take place tomorrow, anywhere in the world. Without explicitly stating whether we have another choice or not, the motif appears repeatedly, whether it be in our relation to nature – several scenes demonstrate the protagonist’s connection to trees (a bit ironic, considering his job) and how human beings are being discarded and replaced by machines – or in how the pursuit of our goals, once achieved, is limited by the results of that conquest. The latter is especially clear in the scene at the start of the third act, where Choi Seon-chul (Park Hee-soon), who has Man-su’s desired job, sits in his enormous house and confesses that he never even ended up using the barbecue grill he so desired, even though he destroyed his family to get it.

Amid the sociological analysis the film invites, which could fill hours of conversation, it is easy to overlook the mastery of the craft. His memorable transitions – one of Chan-wook’s visual signatures, in which he overlaps elements across different spatial dimensions – and precise, rhythmic framing are underscored by excellent musical accompaniments, perfectly suited to each moment. And of course, there are the ineffable contributions of the cast, particularly Byung-hun’s nuance in the face of chaos, delivering what is likely the best performance of his already rich career. Son Ye-jin also deserves praise as his wife, Lee Mi-ri, in a role far larger and more meaningful than what was given to her equivalent in the French film; the depth and dimension she brings to every scene is remarkable for a film that could have easily been a one-man show.

From Man-su’s perspective, his traditionally inexcusable actions appear as the only way to fulfill his responsibilities to his family and give meaning to his life. He sees it as his duty to do what is necessary in this dog-eat-dog world. Any compassionate observer might agree with this (not to the extent of killing other people, I hope), while still questioning whether these demands are a byproduct of the very system the film so clearly critiques. Should family and society be seen as totally different concepts, or should society be seen as an extension of our own family?

By incorporating the current menace of artificial intelligence, Chan-wook refines and updates the source material, offering an even more pointed criticism of unfettered capitalism. His deeply cynical message about the technology’s impact on our jobs is real and prescient. One day, we may not even need people to control or test machines. And when that day comes, will there be another choice?

No Other Choice is showing in select theaters.

-Pedro