Movie Review: No Other Choice

Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) has managed to build a very comfortable life for himself and his family working up the ladder at Solar Paper. His wife Mi-ri (Son Ye-jin) has no need to work, he raises her teenage son from a previous relationship Si-one (Woo Seung Kim) as if he is his own, and their young daughter (So Yul Choi)—who only speaks by quoting others—is able to take the cello lessons she is so gifted at. They live in his sizable family home with a pair of dogs and appear to be enjoying as close an approximation to an idyllic life as possible.

But Solar Paper has been bought by an American company, whose first order of business is to maximize profits by laying off a sizable portion of the workforce, including Man-su. Devastated and fearful for his family’s future he vows to get a new job in three months, but as that runs on to a whopping 13, they all need to start making cuts and Mi-ri must return to the workforce.

As Man-su’s situation grows more dire by the day, he hatches a plot to identify his top competition for any paper industry jobs that might open up and eliminate them. He is not a natural born killer, fumbling at every step, but he is determined to keep his family in the comfort to which they are accustomed and stays at it. Soon enough though, Police officers come knocking, and the stress he places upon himself begins to take its toll on the entire family.

After the restrained elegance of Decision to Leave, South Korean director Park Chan-wook returns to the sort of arthouse pulp that made him a global name. The violence here never reaches the extremes of his earlier work, but it remains sharp—sometimes brutal, sometimes absurdly comic. Indeed, this is a surprisingly funny film. From the subtly scathing satire of the plot to more slapstick moments, much of No Other Choice should at least elicit a wry smirk of amusement if not an outright chuckle.

Lee and Son are both stars in South Korea, with the former achieving some degree of notoriety stateside as well after starring in the Netflix hit Squid Game, and they both deliver performances of remarkable depth. Lee’s Man-su is a kaleidoscope of emotion—joy, shame, resolve, despair—rendered with precision and humanity. It’s one of the most engaging performances of the year and is always a joy to watch. Son, though given less to do until the final act, shines in her gradual reckoning with their reality, a masterclass in quiet realization. Even the supporting cast impresses, with each of Man-su’s would-be rivals etched vividly enough to win the audience’s sympathy.

The editing is occasionally odd, but the cinematography by Kim Woo-hyung is consistently striking, and longtime collaborator Jo Yeong-wook’s score suits the material to a T. By sustaining a comedic tone, the film softens its otherwise brutal critique of late-stage capitalism, showing how economic cruelty can warp ordinary people into something unrecognizable. Its final vision—a chilling glimpse of A.I.’s role in accelerating this spiral—underscores the film’s thesis: there is no bottom to the suffering inflicted in the name of profit. A near-perfect movie for our times, Park reminds us that survival under our current version of capitalism is itself a kind of horror story—one we are all already living. ★★★★★