Oldboy (2003)
That corridor. You already know the one I mean. If you've seen Oldboy, it's probably the first image that flashes into your head. One man, a hammer, and a hallway absolutely packed with people who want him dead. No wirework, no quick cuts to spare anyone's blushes, just raw, grinding, desperate violence played out in a single relentless tracking shot. He's exhausted. They keep coming. And it feels completely, horribly real. I've seen a lot of action sequences over the years, and I'll say it plainly: that corridor scene is one of the greatest ever committed to film. Full stop. The fact that it's been imitated and referenced so many times since is proof enough.
But here's the thing about Oldboy that makes it more than just that one extraordinary scene. Park Chan-wook builds a world around it that feels like a fever dream, beautiful and deeply wrong at the same time. The film grabs you by the throat in its opening minutes and simply does not let go. It's brutal, it's stylish, and it's completely unhinged in ways that take your breath away. Quintessential Korean cinema, in the very best sense of that phrase.
Choi Min-sik is extraordinary in the lead role. He carries the whole thing on his shoulders, cycling through rage, grief, confusion and something close to madness, and every single beat lands. There's a physicality to his performance that matches the film's own relentless energy, but he's equally convincing in the quieter, more desperate moments. It's the kind of performance that reminds you what this medium can actually do when the right actor and the right director find each other.
And then there's the twist. I'm not going to spell it out here, because if you haven't seen this film yet, you deserve to experience it completely cold. What I will say is this: as a parent, it genuinely made my stomach turn. Not in a cheap, exploitative way, but in a way that felt earned by everything the film had built towards. It's the kind of revelation that recontextualises everything you've just watched, turning what started as a revenge thriller into something far more tragic and far more disturbing. You sit there thinking: who actually dreams something like this up? What kind of mind goes there? The answer, apparently, is Park Chan-wook's, and I mean that as the highest possible compliment, even as I felt like I needed a long shower afterwards.
It's not a perfect film. There are moments where the dreamlike quality tips slightly into self-indulgence, and some of the middle section takes its time in ways that test your patience slightly. But when it lands, it absolutely lands. The final act hit me harder than almost anything I can remember watching recently, and that gut-punch feeling stayed with me long after the credits rolled.
I came to Oldboy already having a lot of admiration for Park Chan-wook's work, and this cemented it completely. If you've been circling around Korean cinema and wondering where to start, this is as good an answer as any, though I'd warn you to go in prepared. This is not a comfortable watch. It's not meant to be. It's a film that wants to unsettle you, and it succeeds magnificently.
Four stars. A film you will not forget, whether you want to or not.
Rating: ★★★★ (4/5)
Originally logged on Letterboxd.
