Park Chan-wook’s “No Other Choice” Delivers Masterful Commentary on Economic Desperation

In the opening moments of “No Other Choice,” protagonist You Man-su eagerly anticipates the autumn season while grilling eel for his family dinner. “Come on, fall,” he urges, unaware of the profound collapse—familial, economic, and existential—that awaits him in director Park Chan-wook’s devilishly crafted satire.

Man-su, played with remarkable nuance by Lee Byung-hun, initially has “it all”: a beautiful modernist house in the woods, a loving wife Miri (Son Ye-jin), two children, and even a pair of golden retrievers. But his comfortable life rapidly unravels when he’s laid off from his paper mill job after 25 years of service, along with many colleagues, with minimal explanation or compensation.

The family’s financial situation quickly deteriorates. They’re forced to sell their cherished home, including Man-su’s beloved greenhouse where he tends to plants and bonsai trees. Even small luxuries like their Netflix subscription must be canceled as economic reality sets in.

Where many films might follow a conventional path of exploring unemployment hardship and eventual redemption, Park Chan-wook takes a far more provocative direction. Man-su, desperate to improve his employment prospects, creates a fake job listing to assess his competition. After analyzing the incoming resumes, he concludes he ranks about fifth among potential candidates for any new paper mill management positions. His solution is as simple as it is shocking: eliminate the more qualified competition.

This premise, adapted from Donald Westlake’s 1997 crime novel “The Ax” (previously filmed by Costa-Gavras in 2005), finds its perfect interpreter in Park, the acclaimed filmmaker behind “Oldboy,” “The Handmaiden,” and “Decision to Leave.” Few directors could match Park’s ability to blend sophisticated visual storytelling with themes of brutal desperation while maintaining a darkly comic undertone.

Throughout the film, Park employs his signature meticulous style, using reflections, trees, and carefully composed shots to frame Man-su’s increasingly disturbing actions. Each murder attempt becomes a window into another family also grappling with unemployment, adding layers of social commentary to the narrative.

The film’s examination of capitalism’s crushing effects invites comparisons to Bong Joon Ho’s “Parasite,” though Park had been developing this project for nearly two decades. Both films serve as scathing critiques of economic systems that pit ordinary people against each other in increasingly desperate circumstances.

What distinguishes “No Other Choice” is Lee Byung-hun’s remarkable performance. His Man-su is no natural-born killer, and his fumbling attempts at eliminating competition are equal parts darkly comedic and disturbing. The farcical tone makes the occasional graphic violence all the more shocking.

Park cleverly subverts familiar cinematic tropes of parents driven to extremes to protect their families. Man-su’s rationalization—”Our family is in a war”—sounds almost reasonable within the film’s context, as he convinces himself that maintaining his family’s happiness, particularly Miri’s, justifies virtually any action.

The film’s final minutes expand these themes beyond individual desperation to broader questions about automation, artificial intelligence, and the future of human labor. The autumn leaves falling throughout the film symbolize not just seasonal change but permanent loss—jobs, security, and ethical boundaries that won’t return with the spring.

“No Other Choice” stands as a brilliantly crafted, darkly funny, and ultimately chilling examination of how economic anxiety can transform ordinary people into monsters, all while convincing themselves they have no alternative.

The film, South Korea’s submission for the Academy Awards, is distributed by Neon and runs 139 minutes. It features dialogue in Korean with English subtitles.