“Pulp fiction” takes on an entirely new meaning in Park Chan-wook’s “No Other Choice,” a dark comedy about the job market. The bleak film follows Man-su — played by Lee Byung-hun of “Squid Game” fame — a family man who has worked at the pulp manufacturer Solar Paper for 25 years. When an American firm acquires his company, his bosses state they have “no other choice” but to downsize and unceremoniously let him go. After an emasculating, hopeless year of unemployment, Man-su decides he has “no other choice” but to literally eliminate his competition: he must kill the manager of the rival company Moon Paper, and all other applicants.
“No Other Choice” is an adaptation of Donald E. Westlake’s 1997 novel “The Ax,” which was also adapted into the 2005 film “Le Couperet.” A desperate breadwinner searching for employment and fulfillment is a universal tale, but in “No Other Choice” the contemporary dangers of industrialization and artificial intelligence feel especially relevant. One of the most highly anticipated foreign films of the year, it was snubbed of any Oscars nominations but should have been nominated for directing and cinematography in particular.
“No Other Choice” begins with Man-su losing everything — first the men he managed with pride, then his own job security and eventually his Netflix subscription and two dogs as his wife Yoo Mi-ri (Son Ye-jin) ruthlessly cuts down on all excessive costs. The script is not subtle about Man-su’s flailing despair — this is a man whose identity has been eroded by capitalism. Without Solar Paper, he has no purpose or path to reasserting his masculinity to his wife and two young children.
Watching an average, middle-aged man try to execute four homicides is inherently entertaining, and Byung-hun’s physical comedy is slapstick as he rolls down hills and fumbles while loading a gun. Yet when needed, he subtly portrays true despair. In a standout scene, Man-su attends a support group for unemployed men and parrots unhelpful affirmations with a haunted expression. Notably, he rejects the mantra “I am a good person,” highlighting that he considers character irrelevant relative to employment. Byung-hun’s performance helps Chan-wook pull off a tonal balancing act — the film’s momentum seldom lets up, but it remains thought-provoking throughout.
Of the excellent supporting cast, Son Ye-jin is particularly compelling. At the beginning of the film, Mi-ri is reduced to the role of a housewife and appears to be drawn to Man-su solely for financial reasons. As the plot progresses and Man-su appears increasingly incapable of providing for their family, she starts part-time work as a dental hygienist and begins to leverage her sexuality for the family’s survival in two key plotlines. What she does when she feels she has “no other choice” is a thoughtful exploration of gender norms and toxic masculinity, one of the film’s most apt commentaries.
Cinematographer Woo-hyung Kim elevates “No Other Choice” beyond the typical thriller-comedy. Kim balances lush and sweeping images of the Korean landscape with unique shots. In one pivotal scene, the camera is placed at the bottom of a beer stein, and audiences feel the swooping sensation as Man-su takes a gulp and breaks his sobriety. Throughout the film the camera is placed at increasingly odd positions, such as the high corner of a room or at Man-su’s feet and angled upward. This serves to both disorient the audience and make viewers feel like an interloper in what is ultimately a family tragedy. The sound design is similarly immersive and impactful — in one scene, the clicks of bonsai clippers turn what should be a meditative task into a larger reflection on the terror of domestic life.
Ultimately, “No Other Choice” is pretty cynical. Chan-wook, best known for the 2004 revenge thriller “Oldboy,” has never shied away from explosive horror and the underbelly of human nature. “No Other Choice” is a different type of horror, though — automation renders humanity obsolete and contemporary stresses push a family man to murder. Worst of all is that audiences are introduced to a Man-su who supports his colleagues and subordinates. But under stress and confronted with his own redundancy, Man-su does not search for solidarity or fraternity. He instead goes on a homicidal spree targeting perhaps the only people who understand his plight, underscoring Chan-wook’s thesis that capitalism corrodes morals and self-identity.
