Park Chan-wook’s 12th feature-length movie, No Other Choice, begins with Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) as a proud patriarch at the barbecue, a vision of the platonic ideal domestic life he will spend most of the movie defending. In the long middle where life is lived, the movie offers its audience mirth and pathos and deep social critique. Also: murders. After being laid off from a paper company, Man-su realizes that his best chance at getting hired for his next job is to knock off the three other qualified candidates.
Adapted from Donald Westlake’s novel The Ax, No Other Choice captures — most delightfully and cathartically — the perpetual and unsolvable anxiety of living under an economic system built around extracting surplus value from its workers. Or the dark irony that if a corporation makes a person redundant, it is strategy; if a human does the same, it’s a crime.
With this film, not to mention his earlier works like Oldboy and The Handmaiden, Park establishes himself as a director who understands intimately that tragedy and comedy cannot be separated. Here, it’s the tragedy that life must be lived, that we ought to work at all, that so much in this life in fact depends on this work, set against the comedy of how somebody like Man-su sets about solving this impossible riddle for himself.
The Verge spoke with Park about his relationship to his source material, artificial intelligence, and how he recovers after wrapping a picture.
Director Park Chan-wook Courtesy of Neon
This interview has been edited and condensed.
The Verge: Have you ever been fired from a job?
Park Chan-wook: That’s never happened to me, mercifully. Those kinds of things actually happen quite often in our industry. I’ve been fortunate enough to avoid that fate, but there have been many times when I’ve been afraid of being let go. While working on any project, invariably comes a time when differences in opinion form between the studio or the producers. In that instance, whenever I stubbornly stick to my original position, I do so knowing I am exposing myself to that kind of danger.
And when a movie comes out and it doesn’t do well, then comes the fear that I won’t be able to find a job again, or that I won’t be able to raise funds for my next project.
But also that fear isn’t something that accompanies you after you get your report card from the box office exclusively. All throughout the filmmaking process, it stays with you, that fear. It stays with you from the initial planning stages of a movie. And then if the movie doesn’t do well, that fear sharpens, and it never goes away. It is near to you always.
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