Film Review: Parasite (2019) – This Is So Metaphorical

Words by Evelyn Chan

Bong Joon-ho’s cinematic masterpiece Parasite has been repeatedly analysed because audiences were simply knocked sideways. Bong does not impose a definitive hero or villain. He has instead directed a film where characters are under the reign of a capitalist society, with the film a “comedy without clowns, tragedy without villains”. Their attitudes towards life, and the consequences they face, are the fault of governmental systems and multi-generational corruption.

In a nutshell, Parasite follows the lifestyles of two families from different socio-economic classes; the poor Kims and the rich Parks. The theatrics begin as the Kims infiltrate the Parks’ household through a series of genius plans, pretending to be qualified domestic workers. It’s a well-done and laughable effort from the Kims, but the genre quickly becomes tragic. When the Kims discover an even lower class, admiration turns into resentment and comedy turns into thriller. The fear of losing what they have gained establishes conflict between the poor and the poorer. It is a battle of who can fall down further (literally).

“Before it’s a massive, sociological term, capitalism is just our lives.” – Bong Joon-ho

Parasite depicts the unheard majority who suffer because of socio-economic issues in South Korea. Even the surnames of Park and Kim, which are the top common surnames in the country, trigger a sense of relatability in South Koreans. The mise en scène of the Kim and Park families is paralleled, representing the injustice between the poor and the rich. A semibasement home for the Kim family offers enough hope to climb socially higher, but there is still enough vulnerability to stoop lower. The small window revealing the street outside is the Kims’ window of opportunity. Likewise, the Parks’ grand window to their backyard is representative of their wealth of opportunity. Elsewhere, a series of scenes depicting the Kims’ travelling down multiple staircases to reach their flooded home represents

a metaphorical route to their lower-class position. From this perspective, audiences can see what privilege looks like. As the storm rages on, the Parks are only inconvenienced, with their camping trip cancelled. Yeon-kyo (Cho Yeo-jeong), the mother of the Park family, even describes the storm as a “blessing in disguise”, despite the hundreds of citizens now homeless.

The film’s theme of inequality is furthered by the introduction of a new character, Geun-sae (Park Myung-hoon), who secretly dwells in the Parks’ basement. He has settled into his “home” for four years. “I feel comfortable here. It feels like I was born here,” he says. There are no windows, there is no sunlight, and there is no hope. The Kims are appalled by his lifestyle, but they are not so different.

Parasite explores economic issues specific to South Korea, drawing a link between Geun-sae and the Kims. In early scenes at a drivers’ cafeteria, Ki-taek (Song Kang-ho), the father of the Kims, speaks about a business that went bust. When Geun-sae talks about his Taiwanese cake shop that also went bust, Kimtaek’s face shows empathy; they were both business shop owners who failed miserably. In fact, franchising and starting a smallbusiness is popular amongst the working class in South Korea. If no one will hire you, you have to hire yourself. Once a trend begins, there are several shops promoting that same trend which establishes excessive competition. Taiwanese cake was one such South Korean trend, along with fried chicken and honeycomb ice-cream. It’s a cycle of new trends replacing old trends, resulting in dying businesses and debt.

“A lot of people suffered from these failures; it was a big economic incident in our society that Western audiences wouldn’t understand.” – Bong Joon-ho

Bong highlights such failures from the working class when they try to succeed. Western audiences wouldn’t understand how impactful socio-economic status is on families in Asia. Families are often defined by the father’s income and the education of the children. Without these attributes, it is hard to scrape by as noteworthy.

Ambition is a recurring theme for Ki-woo (Choi Woo-sik), the son of the Kim family, from the beginning to the end. A metaphorical stone in the film, called a “scholar stone” or Suseok due to its unique shape, clings onto Ki-woo. Bong’s intentions with the scholar stone have never been clearly explained. However, critics have claimed it to symbolise Ki-woo’s ambition, and specifically, the pressure he feels to help his family climb socially higher. Song Kang-ho suggested in an interview, “In the end, the rock that Ki-woo willed to be a metaphor is symbolic only in the manner of Sisyphus”. In Greek mythology, Sisyphus is doomed to an eternal punishment of pushing a boulder up a hill. The boulder rolls back down every time it nearly reaches the top and yet again, he must push the boulder up the hill. The scholar’s stone for Ki-woo is symbolic of the ambition he strives for, but also the reality that will always push him back to his original place in society.

Ki-woo’s ambitions manifest until it becomes self-deception. At the beginning, Ki-woo’s friend Min (Park Seo-joon) offers Kiwoo to be his replacement tutor for the daughter of the Park family, Da-hye (Jung Ji-sung). He speaks about the sickening thought of frat-boys slobbering over Da-hye, and therefore, he trusts Ki-woo. The film may not explicitly translate this, but the implication is that Ki-woo and Da-hye cannot date because of their socio-economic gap, unlike Min’s wealthy college peers. Min wants a replacement tutor who is good enough, but not better than him. Ultimately, Ki-woo’s secret romance with Da-hye is symbolic of surpassing Min and is solely for his own satisfaction. In self-deception, he mimics Min’s exact words: “When she enters university, I’m officially asking her out.”

Essentially, the Kims are all victims of self-deception to some extent. As they consume alcohol in the Parks’ living room, they’re consumed with the delusion that they have climbed the social ladder (“We live here now, don’t we?”). It seems like the film’s title Parasite refers to the Kims leeching off the Park’s wealth. However, the final moments of the film reshape our perspective.

The film’s climactic sequence – an elaborate garden party set up by the Kims for the Parks’ pleasure – visualises the Parks’ luxurious lifestyle at the expense of the Kims’ labour. It’s symbolic of the capitalist and the labourer - specifically, how the labourer receives little recognition and praise. After the chaotic night of flooding, the Parks make the Kims prepare the party, oblivious to their exhaustion and aggravation. If a parasite is defined as an organism which exploits another organism at their expense, then the film has a whole other meaning. Are the Parks exploiting the labour of the Kims, and does that make them the true “parasites”? The party descends into chaos when the crazed Geun-sae escapes his basement, and fatally stabs the daughter of the Kim family, Ki-jung (Park So-dam). In response, the Parks’ priority is to panic about their fainted son, completely disregarding their dying tutor. Critics have claimed that Ki-jung’s death is a result of her talent and intellect. She has the most potential; Ki-woo even comments on how well she “fits in” at the Parks’ household. Perhaps her death is Bong’s critique on the capitalist game and how hard it is to win.

Ultimately, we see that the Kims do not climb the social ladder. The film ends with Ki-woo dreaming of living freely with his family by leading a legitimate lifestyle of education and career success. However, the final scene kills that happy ending. Ki-woo is shown back in the same semi-basement he started in, and his dreams will remain just that.

I believe Parasite is significant because of its relevance and culture exposure. It was momentous when Parasite won multiple Oscars, because the film industry has been dominated with Western culture and influence for years. Thanks to Bong JoonHo, other cultural voices are starting to be heard in the industry. Despite it being a Korean film, the themes of Parasite apply universally across the world. When I am reminded about this film, I often think about my socio-economic position and those possibly below me. Who made my smartphone so I could have a convenient lifestyle? How much of their lifestyle and labour was exploited so I could stay connected with my friends? What other things in my life are comfortable because of exploitative labour? We are so much closer to the lives of the Parks than the Kims, and this is why Parasite will always make me feel uncomfortable. Perhaps we have been the Parasite all along.