“Revelations” Netflix Poster

Director: Yeon Sang-ho
Cast: Ryu Jun-yeol, Shin Min-jae, Shin Hyun-been, Han Ji-hyun, Kim Bo-Min, Kim Do-Young, Moon Ju-Yeon, Bae Youn-Kyu, Oh Chi-Woon, Woo Kang-Min
Running Time: 122 min.

By Paul Bramhall

The journey of Yeon Sang-ho as a filmmaker has been an interesting one. Gaining attention amongst cineastes in the early 2010’s for his gritty feature length animations like King of Pigs and The Fake, it was his transition to live action filmmaking that brought him to international attention, with the 2016 zombie movie Train to Busan. However in the years since he’s continuously struggled to find a consistent cinematic voice, with his switch to live action seeing him pivot from the grounded, reality-based nature of his animated features, to more fantasy, sci-fi, and supernatural infused flights of fancy. The major studios seem to have the same concerns, as with the exception of 2020’s Train to Busan sequel Peninsula, all of his subsequent work has exclusively gone straight to Netflix.

In fact it’s a safe bet to say no other Korean filmmaker has debuted on Netflix as much as Sang-ho has. Whether it be directing feature length productions like 2017’s Psychokinesis and 2022’s Jung-E. Helming drama series adaptations like Hellbound (the first season in 2020 as well as the second in 2024) and 2024’s Parasyte: The Grey. Or even stuff he just wrote the script for, like 2024’s 6-episode series The Bequeathed. All of them landed on Netflix, and in 2025 his latest feature length production once more skips a theatrical release, with Revelations similarly debuting on the streaming giant.

Interestingly Revelations is probably the most grounded work story wise that Sang-ho has done since his 2013 animated feature The Fake. The plot tells 2 parallel stories that gradually start to overlap with each other, with the first being of a pastor running a dilapidated church in a rundown part of Musan. Played by Ryu Jun-yeol (Believer, Alienoid), to say he has a lot on his mind would be an understatement. For a start his suspicions about his wife cheating on him look like they may be true, and exasperating his stress is the discovery of a mega church that’s being built not far from his own. His mentor is responsible for the new church, which should make him the natural choice to be selected as the pastor to run it, however it seems religious politics point to the mentor’s son being the preferred candidate. To top everything off, a convicted sex offender has just been released from prison and has moved into the local neighbourhood.

Played by Shin Min-jae (Smugglers, Killing Romance), when Jun-yeol’s daughter goes missing on the same day he unknowingly tried to sign up Min-jae to become a church member, Jun-yeol becomes convinced it’s Min-jae who’s responsible for her disappearance. The 2^nd plot involves a detective who’s recently been reinstated to the violent crimes division after some time off, played by Shin Hyun-been (Beasts Clawing at Straws, The Closet), whose sister was one of Min-jae’s victims. Haunted by visions of her sister’s ghost, Hyun-been seems to spend more time popping sachets of prescription pills and tracking Min-jae than anything else, however when both he and a young girl who attends Jun-yeol’s church go missing, she makes it her mission to get to the bottom of it.

It’s not a spoiler to say it’s Jun-yeol who’s responsible for the disappearance of Min-jae. After following him in his car up a remote mountain road, the pair end up in a tussle, with Min-jae slipping down the mountain and cracking his head open on a rock. Uncertain of what to do next, when lightening illuminates a nearby mountainside Jun-yeol is convinced he can see the face of Jesus, taking it as a sign that he’s doing the right thing. What unfolds is probably best described as a mix of Bill Paxton’s 2001 horror Frailty meets Kim Seong-hun’s 2014 thriller A Hard Day, as Jun-yeol becomes increasingly convinced that God is sending him signs, whether it be in the shape of the clouds or graffiti on a wall, so decides to cover his tracks. Meanwhile Hyun-been sees a chance to redeem the fact she couldn’t save her sister if she can get to the missing girl before it’s too late, but with minimal leads and the suspect missing in action, it won’t be easy.

In writing the synopsis I realise on paper it actually sounds like all the ingredients are there for a compelling supernatural tinged thriller, however Sang-ho has somehow managed to inject precisely zero narrative thrust into the 2-hour runtime, making it an exhaustingly plodding affair to get through. As a director and scriptwriter he’s dabbled with religious themes before with his series Hellbound which suffered from the same issues, and yet somehow that was granted a 2^nd season (which to me at least, is a bit like drinking an expired bottle of milk that’s been sitting in the sun for a week, then saying you’d like to have another one). Both are adapted from comics he also wrote, and perhaps it’s their translation to the screen where something becomes lost.

By far the most disappointing aspect of Revelations though is the question of who’s responsible for the missing girl’s disappearance, which for a good half of the runtime Sang-ho convincingly leaves the audience completely in the dark. It comes as something of a damp squib then, when it’s revealed it actually is Min-jae who kidnapped her, despite it seeming like an all too obvious narrative choice to have the actual kidnapper be the sex offender who’s just gotten out of prison. It seems to be a trait in Korean cinema that the thought of a prisoner becoming rehabilitated from the crimes they committed is unthinkable, so as soon as they’re released the expectation is they’ll be up to their old tricks in no time at all. Kim Joo-hwan’s Officer Black Belt, that also debuted on Netflix the previous year, suffered from the same issue, and here it simply feels lazy, with the built-up intrigue effectively being unintentional.

Despite the heavy-handed nature of everything onscreen, thankfully Jun-yeol offers up some entertainment value as the pastor who increasingly starts to lose it as the narrative progresses. If I had to guess, Jun-yeol’s inspiration for the role would be Aaron Kwok in Roy Chow’s 2009 slice of Hong Kong insanity Murderer. We’re not even halfway through and he’s already become a sweat drenched mess, yelling at his wife in the car to confess her sins, while belting out borderline hysterical prayers to the congregation when he holds a prayer meeting for the missing child. He admirably remains fully committed to the role no matter what ridiculous places it takes him, and by the time he’s wielding a steel pole while a tied-up Min-jae sings hymns at him in an abandoned golf resort, things have gotten pretty ridiculous.

Hyun-been is similarly committed despite the script at times working against her. The biggest issue is the ghost of her sister, played by Han Ji-hyun (I Bet Everything, Seobok), whose appearances feel like they should be quietly menacing, but instead end up coming across as gratingly annoying. Is this the first time for a ghostly apparition in Asian cinema to be an annoyance? Possibly. The biggest issue is her appearances mostly consist of her whining about why Hyun-been didn’t save her while she was alive, which starts to feel repetitive. However the coup de grâce is when she shows up in a scene where Hyun-been has been left alone with Min-jae, and descends into the kind of hysterical yelling usually reserved for scenes where a family member has learnt about the death of a loved one. For some reason, ghosts and hysterical yelling just isn’t a combination that works.

In the end it’s difficult to ascertain what the point of Revelations is, even with a Murderer-esque exposition dump from a psychiatrist towards the end who explains all about how everything is connected to past trauma, it fails to convince that everything that’s come before was worth watching. Consistently dull, frequently misguided, and narratively empty, the only revelation I hope comes from Sang-ho’s latest is that he re-assesses his direction as a filmmaker.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 2/10

The post Revelations (2025) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Jung_E” Netflix Poster

Director: Yeon Sang-Ho
Cast: Kang Soo-Yeon, Kim Hyun-Joo, Ryoo Kyung-Soo, Lee Dong-Hee, Uhm Ji-Won, Han Woo-Yul, Yun Ki-Chang, Lee Ga-Kyung, Ki Hwan Cha Hee
Running Time: 100 min.

By Paul Bramhall

Watching the journey of director and screenwriter Yeon Sang-ho has been an interesting one. Originally making a name for himself through animated features like King of Pigs and The Fake, stories which were grounded in reality and tackled a range of social issues, his transition to live action movie making has taken a decidedly different direction. His last animated feature was 2015’s Seoul Station which arguably acted as the bridge to his live action ambitions. Involving a zombie outbreak amongst the homeless community who call the station home, Sang-ho incorporated a subtle social commentary into the expected chaos, making it a minor but effective piece of filmmaking.

The following year he’d make his live action debut, which would also become his breakthrough production with Train to Busan, a direct continuation of the story involving (perhaps unsurprisingly) a train that becomes overrun with zombies. 4 years later he’d unleash a 3^rd instalment in the form of Peninsula, crafting a heist flick set in a post-apocalyptic version of a Korea which has been overrun by the undead. In-between he helmed 2018’s Psychokinesis, which sees a deadbeat father acquire telekinetic powers to comedic effect, and most recently in 2021 he directed the 6-part Netflix series Hellbound, a mystery involving a trio of supernatural beasts that appear at random to attack those who have sinned. Netflix were pleased enough with the success of Hellbound that not only did they greenlight a 2^nd season, they also backed his next movie, which arrived in 2023 in the form of Jung_E.

In opening onscreen text that rivals Kim Jee-woon’s Illang: The Wolf Brigade for the sheer amount of backstory it attempts to convey, we learn it’s 2194 and that climate change has led to much of the world being made uninhabitable. Humanity has migrated into shelters built in space, however some of these shelters have broken off into their own republics, with the particularly aggressive Adrian Republic waging a war which has already been ongoing for 40 years. In a world where it’s now possible to download consciousness into AI, down on Earth they’ve been attempting to create the ultimate cyborg soldier using the consciousness of a legendary mercenary (the titular Jung_E) who’s been in a coma for the past 35 years, and is played by Kim Hyun-joo (If You Were Me 5, Shinsukki Blues). 

The project is led by her own daughter, played by Kang Soo-yeon (Hanbando, Whale Hunting 2), who in the 35 years since her mother was downed in battle has grown into a scientist specialising in the field of AI. In order to convince the higher ups in the military that the project is worth funding through to completion though, Hyun-joo needs to get past the battle simulation that recreates her final moments, and so far every attempt has failed.

Like any story involving the ethical dilemmas that come with AI, the setup for Jung_E is an interesting one, however Sang-ho seems to struggle with what exactly the end goal of his narrative is. Is it simply that Soo-yeon and the corporation she’s employed by continue to secure funding and successfully create the perfect soldier? Should we be expecting an epic finale where a clone army of Hyun-joo’s go into battle and finally put an end to the Adrian Civil War that’s been raging for 40 years? At no point during the punchy 100-minute runtime does it feel that he confidently has an answer, and as a result there’s a lack of narrative thrust which at times makes Jung_E feel considerably longer than it is.

After a perfunctory opening battle scene in which we see Hyun-joo in action, much of the next hour feels like an overly long collection of project meetings, as Soo-yeon and the company director, played with teeth grating annoyance by Ryu Kyung-soo (Broker, Pluto), try to figure out why Jung_E keeps failing. With much of the plot playing out in a limited number of rooms, most of which are digitally rendered giving them a depthless quality, there’s a confined feel to Jung_E that sits at odds with the broader scope of the story. Things aren’t helped by having Soo-yeon and Kyung-soo as the central characters who interact with each other the most, and appear to be acting in completely different movies based on their performances.

It should be mentioned that Jung_E is the last movie of Soo-yeon, who died from a brain haemorrhage in May 2022 and sadly wouldn’t get to see the final product. One of Korea’s most recognizable actresses, her frequent collaborations with director Im Kwon-taek in the likes of 1986’s The Surrogate Woman, 1989’s Come Come Come Upward, and 2010’s Hanji ensure she’ll leave a lasting legacy behind. Jung_E is actually her first role in a feature length production since Hanji (although I’d encourage anyone to seek out the entertaining short film Jury from 2012, in which she plays an exaggerated version of herself), and she puts in a rather dour and restrained performance. This is in stark contrast to Kyung-soo, who plays his role so broad it almost feels like a pantomime, comprising of incessant yelling, constant gurning, and wild gesticulation, whenever his character is onscreen (which is most of it), Jung_E becomes a tougher watch.

Kyung-soo’s character also appears to be Sang-ho’s attempt to inject some humor into proceedings, however the contrast in his performance against the poker-faced seriousness of Soo-yeon only makes such attempts fall flat, none more so than during his initial introduction the military higher ups. Sang-ho’s script does much better when it comes to conveying his ideas about the futuristic world the story populates, and while the influence of Bladerunner (with a sprinkling of Total Recall) is clear, there’s also plenty of originality on display. The options available to transfer your consciousness into a prosthetic body are wonderfully cynical, with the most expensive Option A offering full human rights, Option B offering limited rights (for example marriage is illegal), and the cheapest Option C providing full data access to any company who wishes to use it.

Sadly these ideas are only presented on purely a surface level, and nothing is done to explore or develop them further, with the narrative eventually revealing itself to be more of a traditional story of a daughter who wants the opportunity to bring her mother back. The sci-fi leanings and potential the world Sang-ho has created are left merely as window dressing, and once it becomes clear what story is really at the heart of Jung_E, events play out much as expected. 

Ironically, despite playing the title character, Kim Hyun-joo often feels like a supporting player in her own movie, so it’s a relief when she eventually let’s loose in the finale. Essentially an extended bout of taekwondo robots kicking the daylights out of each other, how much excitement audiences get out of these scenes will largely depend on how much they enjoy fight scenes crafted almost completely by CGI. I confess there’s at least some level of enjoyment to watching a bunch of cyborg boot masters go at each other rather than opt for the usual firepower, however Hyun-joo is once more pushed aside during the final slice of action, again reenforcing the feeling of her being a supporting player in her own movie.

Korean cinema continues to have a rocky relationship with the sci-fi genre, but has proven that it can do it right more than once, whether it be a big budget blockbuster like Alienoid, or a low budget indie like Hunger. While both succeeded thanks to their originality, Jung_E ultimately falls into the same trap as 2021’s Space Sweepers, spending too much time on creating an impressive visual aesthetic, and not nearly enough on the story or characters that populate it.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 4/10 

The post Jung_E (2023) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Peninsula” IMAX Poster

Director: Yeon Sang-Ho
Cast: Gang Dong-Won, Lee Jung-Hyun, Lee Re, Kwon Hae-Hyo, Kim Min-Jae, Koo Gyo-Hwan, Kim Do-Yoon, Lee Ye-Won, Kim Kyu-Baek, Moon Woo-Jin
Running Time: 116 min.

By Paul Bramhall

4 years since the breakout zombie hit Train to Busan, director Yeon Sang-ho returns to make it a trilogy with 2020’s Peninsula. Korea’s seen plenty of zombie action in the years in-between, with the genre supplanted to ancient times with Rampant and the TV series Kingdom, given a quirky take with The Odd Family: Zombie On Sale, and most recently in the form of #Alive. It’s safe to say that the zombie genre is no longer a fresh one on Korean shores, so the biggest question is can Sang-ho up the ante enough for Peninsula to be as bigger a success as Train to Busan?

As the title suggests, from the initial animated feature Seoul Station, to the confines of a train for its sequel, for the third outing the scope has increased to the whole of the Korean peninsula. We’re introduced to a new set of characters for this round, with Gong Yoo replaced by Gang Dong-won as the main character. Dong-won plays a soldier who we first meet escorting his sister, brother-in-law (Kim Do-yoon, The Wailing), and nephew to one of the ships being used to evacuate the country, now overrun by zombies. While they make it onboard, an infected passenger soon starts wreaking havoc, and only Dong-won and Do-yoon make it to Hong Kong where they’re granted refugee status.

The narrative skips forward 4 years, and the pair don’t have an easy life, having to deal with the prejudices of being considered virus carriers by the locals, and the limitations that being a refugee comes with. When they’re offered a deal by some shady gangsters – enter Korea to locate an abandoned truck loaded with cash, and if they bring it back safely half of it is there’s – it proves too tempting to resist. Returning to a dystopian landscape under the cover of night, the plan is to retrieve the truck and hightail it back to Incheon port to be picked up before sunrise. As expected, things go wrong, thanks largely to the presence of a rogue military outfit that goes by the name of Unit 631. After they capture Do-yoon, Dong-won is resuced by a family who’ve been surviving by themselves in the hope of one day being resuced, and together they make a plan to escape the peninsula, preferably with Do-yoon and the money in tow.

While Train to Busan was a little too on the nose with its critique of those in authority, coming so soon after the Sewol Ferry disaster, Peninsula initially seems to take the same approach, with the way Dong-won and Do-yoon are treated feeling particularly pertinent considering the current COVID-19 pandemic. In the opening we witness a US current affairs show, during which its discussed how North Korea has become the safest place in Korea, teasing the possibility of a narrative which is far more interesting than the one which eventually plays out. That’s not neccessarily a complaint, as the return to Korean shores gives Sang-ho an opportunity to paint a vision of Incheon as a dystopian landscape.  2020 has been a good year for Korean sci-fi, with Time to Hunt also portraying a dystopian vision of the capital, and much like Yoon Sung-hyun’s sophomore feature, to a degree Peninsula feels more like a low key sci-fi than anything else.

In part that’s because of the carry over from Train to Busan. Much like in the previous installment, here the zombies never really feel scary or have that much of a presence.  There’s hundreds of them, but they seem to mostly be there as cannon fodder for vehicles to plough into, or receive a bullet to the head. As per the previous installment, those looking for blood and gore are definitely in the wrong place. Thankfully, unlike Gong Yoo’s dull as dishwater performance in Train to Busan, Dong-won makes for a likeable protagonist. Dong-won has done well to accquaint himself with action roles in recent years, with solid turns in the likes of Master and Illang: The Wolf Brigade, and Peninsula is at its best when he’s prowling the darkened streets, assault rifle cocked against his shoulder.

When he’s offscreen Peninsula suffers. We’re introduced to Unit 631 through Kim Min-jae’s (The Truth Beneath, The Shameless) psychotic sergeant, who inadvertently kidnaps Do-yoon when his group hijack the truck he’s stashed away in the back of. An extended sequence introduces us to their barricaded base, led by an edgy captain played by the effeminate Koo Kyo-hwan (Romance in Seoul, Jane). It’s a scenario we’ve seen plenty of times before, most recently in 2014’s Zombie Fight Club, right down to the presence of, you guessed it, a zombie fight club. The cartoonishly evil bad guys make for a noisy distraction from the slow-burn tension filled scenes that lead up to their introduction, and the whole setup feels overly familiar and derivative of productions which have done it before. With nothing particularly original to add to the setup, the pacing begins to drag and Dong-won’s presence is missed.

The family who Dong-won is rescued by fare better in terms of characterisation, and also serve to provide him with a worthy character arc.  Lee Jung-hyun (The Battleship Island, The Admiral: Roaring Currents) plays the mother to two girls, played by Lee-re (Innocent Witness, Seven Years of Night) and Lee Ye-won (Romang, My Last Love), who live in an old apartment with their grandfather, played by Kwon Hae-hyo (Tazza: One Eyed Jack, Hotel By the River).  While the mentally unstable Hae-hyo spends his days thinking he’s still in the army and talking on an old radio transmitor to imaginery rescuers, Lee-re proves to be quite the driver, more than willing to get behind the wheel and go on a zombie roadkill rampage. Knowing that a satellite phone that was left in the truck is their lifeline out of Korea, Dong-won and Jung-hyun ultimately team up to infilitrate Unit 631’s base to retrieve the vehicle and make a clean break.

There’s a lean post-apocalyptic actioner somewhere under Peninsula’s 115 minute runtime, and in certain scenes you could swear Sang-ho knows it. But the need to imbue his work with social commentary, an objective he’s failed to show any subtely towards since his animated features like The Fake, combined with the commercial inclinaitons of a blockbuster, result in Peninsula feeling somewhat stop-start. At least Train to Busan was limited to the confines of a train, so things could never get too broad. The problem here is the villains so obviously represent the dark side of human nature when left with no sense of law and order, that that they might as well paint it on a placard and wave it around. Dong-won is equally stereotyped as the tormented ex-soldier who hides behind the logic of his decisions, but he plays the kind of stereotype an audience can get behind, and his understated performance doesn’t make it feel as brazen.

Sang-ho’s background in animation particuarly comes to the fore in several vehicular chase sequences, which culminate in a Mad Max: Fury Road-esque finale through the streets of Incheon. Audiences will likely either be able to get behind the aesthetic (particularly fans of his animated work), or be put off by the CGI used to create the scenes. Personally I enjoyed the finale, despite the blatantly frictionless roads and the CGI becoming a little too obvious whenever a vehicle is involved in a crash, Sang-ho and his cast still wring a suitable amount of tension as all parties (and a whole heap of zombies) race to the port.

Being a commercial blockbuster, much like Train to Busan the closing scenes fall back on the melodrama that plagues many a Korean feature, as proceeedings quickly devolve into an extended histrionics filled climax stuffed with more slow motion tear shedding than 100 Hollywood tearjerkers combined. It’s entirely expected, which only makes watching it feel all the more torturous, particularly as its inter-mingled with some wince worthy English dialogue (although nothing compares to the initial US talk show scene, where every sentence has to be pronunced sl-ow-ly and del-ib-er-at-ely). With a more relatable protagonist and a broader scope to work with, Peninsula is arguably more fun than Train to Busan, but only just. 

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 6.5/10

The post Peninsula (2020) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Psychokinesis” Korean Theatrical Poster

Director: Yeon Sang-Ho
Writer: Yeon Sang-Ho
Cast: Ryoo Seung-Ryong, Shim Eun-Kyung, Park Jung-Min, Kim Min-Jae, Jung Yu-Mi
Running Time: 101 min. 

By Z Ravas

Train to Busan must be the most popular Korean film in America since Oldboy. No, I don’t have any hard data to back that up (although the movie did gross close to $100 million worldwide). But anecdotally, here in the States – where Korean cinema is still something of a niche interest – Train to Busan is the first Korean movie I’ve heard anyone having “water cooler conversations” about since Choi Min-sik stormed down a hallway with a hammer in his hand. No doubt, Train to Busan’s accessibility on Netflix had something to do with its wide reach. Given the film’s massive global success, it’s easy to imagine director Yeon Sang-ho was given something of a blank check when it came time to make his next movie. Now raise your hand if you expected Sang-ho to follow up his fast-paced zombie thriller with…a whimsical comedy about a deadbeat dad turned telekinetic superhero. No one?

Talk about a curveball. Yes, the filmmaker – who began his career in animation – has strayed from the horror genre altogether, writing and directing a movie that could easily fit alongside the Marvel Cinematic Universe if it wasn’t so, well, off-beat and lackadaisical in its storytelling. That’s not a diss: Psychokinesis is a movie imbued with the same kind of ambling quality as it’s protagonist, portrayed by a charming and quite funny Ryu Seung-ryong (The Piper).  

As the movie opens, Ryu Seung-ryong is living a low-key existence as a security guard. You might call him a slacker, someone who isn’t afraid to skimp instant coffee packets from his employer when they’re not looking. Unbeknownst to him, the daughter who he abandoned years ago is having a much harder time of things. All grown up (and played by Train to Busan’s Shim Eun-kyung), she’s doing her best to run a successful fried chicken restaurant, but some greedy land developers are forcing her and other local business owners out – using any means necessary. When a meteorite from space crash lands and imbues some spring water with superpowers, Ryu Seung-ryong takes a sip and is suddenly given the chance to reconnect with his daughter and perhaps save her from Kim Min-jae’s (The Battleship Island) shady construction company.

That said, Psychokinesis takes its time getting there. Although Ryu Seung-ryong is granted his psychic powers quite early in the movie, director Yeon Sang-ho isn’t really interested in orchestrating comic book battles. Even when Ryu does end up using his abilities, their presentation is not much more outlandish than what we saw Carrie do decades ago, with Ryu waving his hand to send a bunch of rubberfaced goons toppling to the floor. Yeon Sang-ho is much more invested in the estranged relationship between father and daughter, a similar thread that he drew upon in Train to Busan, as well as the tightknit family of business owners in Gangwon Province who find themselves threatened with eviction. 

Fortunately, Yeon Sang-ho has assembled a talented cast, particularly Ryu Seung-ryong – whose gift for physical comedy here frequently reminded me of vintage Jackie Chan (I was continually amazed he was able to find new ways to strain his face and move his body every time he summoned his powers) – and Shim Eun-kyung as his stern but good-hearted daughter. Late in the movie, Jung Yu-mi (Chaw) makes an appearance as the corporate interest pulling the strings behind the evictions, and let’s just say the beautiful actress is afforded the chance to play against type as a truly unhinged villain. 

While it only runs 101 minutes, Psychokinesis still feels a tad longer than necessary, and even as I watched it I had to wonder if part of my enjoyment of the film was the result of residual goodwill from Train to Busan. The climax of the film sees Ryu Seung-ryong taking to the skies in comical leaps and bounds a la Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man, which is fun in of itself, but I doubt very many of us watch Korean cinema because we want it to mimic Hollywood blockbusters – we so enjoy these movies precisely because they tend to deviate from the Hollywood playbook, or at least do them one better. Regardless, in the same way that Ryu Seung-ryong’s affable nature eventually thaws his daughter’s cold heart, Psychokinesis is too likable to judge harshly. Yeon Sang-ho’s background in animation is on clear display: the film’s crisp, visual storytelling means you could watch Psychokinesis on mute and still be able to follow the action and enjoy yourself. 

Perhaps the most exciting thing about Psychokinesis? After following up a relentless zombie flick with a superhero comedy, I have absolutely no idea what Yeon Sang-ho is going to do next. I just know it’ll be interesting. 

Z Ravas’ Rating: 7/10

The post Psychokinesis (2018) Review first appeared on cityonfire.com.

“Train to Busan” Theatrical Poster

Director: Yeon Sang-Ho
Writer: Park Joo-suk
Cast: Gong Yoo, Ma Dong-Seok, Jung Yu-Mi, Choi Woo-Sik, Ahn So-Hee, Kim Soo-Ahn
Running Time: 118 min.

By Paul Bramhall

Korea’s film industry is one which is rarely associated with the medium of animation, however one name that may change all that is director Yeon Sang-ho, who’s been successfully carving out a name for himself within the animated arena. His hard hitting features like King of Pigs and The Fake, which display a biting social commentary towards modern day Korea, have drawn international acclaim, and were widely screened on the festival circuit. Sang-ho ventured outside the realistic trappings of his most recognised work for the 2015 feature Seoul Station, which deals with a zombie outbreak in the Korean capital, and a year later he followed it up with an immediate sequel in the form of Train to Busan.

What makes Train to Busan a unique sequel is that, instead of being animated, it’s a live action follow-up. Similar to Hollywood director Brad Bird, who after rising to prominence with the likes of The Incredibles decided to take on live action with Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, so fans of Sang-ho have also been looking forward to seeing the director work on a live action production. The fact that his first foray was to involve Korea being overrun by a zombie outbreak was a welcome bonus.

Rather than drawing on comparisons to other zombie flicks though, the movie that immediately springs to mind when watching Train to Busan is fellow Korean director Bong Joon-ho’s Snowpiercer. Despite one revolving around an outbreak of the undead, and one being a futuristic vision of humans surviving on a train in an earth which has frozen over, both share the same thematic overtones and setting. Far from being a visceral thrill ride of an undead bloodbath, Sang-ho has constructed a tale which is more about the invisible divides that exist between the social classes, the members of whom are very much alive.

As expected, proceedings unfold which see a group of survivors on a train travelling from Seoul, located in the north of South Korea, travelling to Busan, a coastal city in the South. Gong Yoo plays the main character, most recognizable as the lead from the 2013 action movie The Suspect. His character is that of a stereotypical salary man, one who is so involved in his work that he’s already divorced, with a young daughter that wants to go and stay with her Mum in Busan. For his daughter’s birthday, he agrees to take her to Busan to meet her mother, until of course events get interrupted by a zombie outbreak.

The cast of characters who convene to form the group of survivors are like a who’s who of disaster movie archetypes – we have the good hearted working class couple, played by Ma Dong-seok (the stocky muscular guy from any Korean movie made within the last 10 years) and Jeong Yu-mi. There’s a slimy middle aged business man who’ll happily sacrifice others to save himself played by Kim Eui-seong, a faithful train driver, a pair of old ladies, a teenage couple, and a homeless guy just for good measure.

Sang-ho wastes no time getting down to business, and within 15 minutes we’re already on the train watching events unfurl, as a stray zombie who managed to get on-board just before it pulls away from the platform begins to wreak havoc. For the remainder of the almost 2 hour runtime, we stay within the confines of the train, or never far from it. As a result of almost 75 minutes being spent in train carriages, there are times when the action begins to strain. At the end of the day, its zombies on a train, and as expected, most of the tension is wringed from the survivors frantically dashing from one carriage to the other, closing the door seconds before a horde of the undead pile up in pursuit. It’s initially effective, but by the umpteenth time we see it, all sense of danger has effectively dissipated.

Sang-ho’s script also makes the most interesting characters the supporting ones. Gong Yoo’s fund manager who doesn’t have time for his family is as dull as dishwater, despite being the main character. Before the first five minutes are over, it’s obvious that he’s going to take the train with his daughter, be put in peril, and realise that family is more important than work. It’s a cliché that’s been recycled time and time again in Korean cinema, and both the script and Yoo’s bland performance add nothing new to it. Dong-seok’s dedicated husband on the other hand stands out, both relatable and willing to do anything to protect his heavily pregnant wife, he easily steals the show whenever he’s onscreen.

One of the best scenes has Dong-seok round up Yoo and a teenage baseball player, to single handedly fight their way through several carriages of zombies, in order to get to a group of stranded passengers further down the train. Watching his burly frame punch and wrestle though several waves of the undead almost makes you wish that he was the main character, and it’s certainly a breath of fresh air to see zombies being dispatched with plain old brute force rather than the traditional bullet in the head. However for those checking in hoping to see a Korean version of Dawn of the Dead, those expectations should be adjusted accordingly. Despite several victims falling prey to the zombies insatiable appetite, Train to Busan feels like a tame affair when it comes to violence, with very little imagination shown when it comes to the nitty gritty of zombies doing what they do best.

Indeed it seems that rather than going for visceral thrills, Sang-ho is more interested in using the outbreak as a plot device in which to frame his commentary on the questionable decisions of those in authority. There’s been a number of Korean movies of late which take swipes at the countries government, a prime example being the excellent Inside Men, and Train to Busan also comes with a message for its audience. The issue is that it’s not a subtle one, and the moments when Sang-ho’s script wants to say something, it does so in a way which sticks out like a sore thumb. A newsreader announces “We must keep calm and trust the government” over images of a burning cityscape, and in another scene an employee, who knows the orders he received will condemn people to certain death, questions that it’s not his fault if he’s just doing what he’s told to do.

The lack of imaginative violence, social commentary, and a particularly awkward change in tone that switches to a melodramatic finale, all point to Sang-ho looking to appeal to as wide an audience as possible. The problem is that when you want to appeal to such a broad audience, a movie can easily lose its identity. To a degree that seems to be the main issue with Train to Busan. Is it a Korean zombie flick? Is it a scathing commentary on those in authority? Is it the tale of a father and daughter reconciling their relationship? Sang-ho has tried to make it all of those things, and it doesn’t quite succeed at being any of them, at least not in a way which effectively connects with those watching.

The zombies don’t feel scary enough, the characters aren’t fleshed out enough, and the swipes at the authorities aren’t subtle enough. With that being said, it’s unfair to write off Train to Busan as a bad movie. It’s not, and to Sang-ho’s credit it remains watchable throughout, even if by the end it has worn out its welcome ever so slightly. As a first foray into live-action, Sang-ho hasn’t quite hit the mark, but his talent is still very much on display, with the distinct visual style present in his animated productions successfully carried over into a live action environment. Next time, hopefully he’ll return with a sharper and more focused script, and when that happens I’ll be more than happy to buy a return ticket. But for now, Train to Busan is thankfully just a one-way trip.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 6/10

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