I would be exaggerating if I claimed that I had no other choice but to write a review of the movie by the same title but, given that my mind kept returning to it more times than I could count, I thought it worthwhile to put down a few words. Besides, the movie is an Oscar contender this year.
Some might suspect I am biased because I am Korean, just like those who made the movie, but I had a lot of respect for its director and writer even when I used to have little for the Korean film industry in general. Just to clarify, the same industry seems to have become more accomplished in recent years.
No Other Choice begins with an idyllic scene in which the main character, Man-Su, in the presence of his family, happily exclaims, “It is accomplished!”
By this he means that he has achieved the Korean equivalent of the American Dream – he has worked hard and risen in socioeconomic status, and now nothing seems to be beyond his reach in terms of middle-class aspiration.
But his euphoria turns out to be short-lived as he discovers that the company he works for has been paving the way for the sudden but premeditated announcement of his redundancy.
The company Man-Su helped to grow with expertise and productivity now finds him no longer necessary, especially after becoming more corporatised and globalised. In view of absolute economisation and profit-maximisation, no one seems indispensable, not even Man-Su who has devoted his entire working life to the cause.
His accomplishment is shown to be far more fragile than suspected, as the loss of his job starts a chain reaction of other losses: his dream house, the lifestyles of his wife and children and, most importantly, his own sense of economy-based identity.
After struggling to find a new job in a similar role, a sinister idea enters Man-Su: instead of merely competing against so many others for so few positions, why not eliminate the other competitors, quite literally?
After all, they are already operating in a cut-throat environment which treats people as a means to an end rather than as human beings with inherent dignity. So why should he not take the same logic one step further and “terminate” those who cause inefficiency or shortage in the fulfilment of the vision of life that has been inculcated in him?
Three main figures are identified by Man-Su as his greatest competitors. As he researches and even spies on them, what shines through is their humanity. They are not mere avatars to be registered or deleted on a computer but real people whose stories bear touching similarities to that of Man-Su, who himself recognises this and develops an affinity with them.
Nevertheless, what the audience can see as compelling reasons for him to stop the murderous project seem like unfortunate footnotes to Man-Su, who is convinced that their humanity has little or nothing to do with it.
After all, “we are in a war” Man-Su tells his teenage stepson who, upon being caught stealing, is now being coached by him to throw a friend under the bus. In other words, life is a zero-sum game where self-preservation is the supreme law. Therefore, whatever one has to do to protect oneself or one’s family is justified.
In this way, Man-Su does not fall alone. He brings down with him his wife, who becomes complicit in the murders by turning a blind eye, and his son, who imbibes the corruption of his parents.
In the end, the dehumanising logic by which Man-Su justifies deceit, greed and even murder comes to define him. So it is ominously ironic when, after being cleared of all suspicion by sheer luck and finally getting the job he desperately wanted, he finds himself in a workplace operated almost entirely by artificial intelligence, with him as the sole human.
What now is the purpose of his existence? How long will it last? And, most importantly, how true was it that, in his warfare to (supposedly) save his family, he really had no other choice?
No Other Choice is screening in Australian cinemas. Classification: MA15+.
