Martin Scorsese would consider Parasite cinema, brilliant cinema. The rest of the filmic world agrees, seeing as how this South Korean sensation won the Palme d’Or at Cannes this year, where it beat out Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood, which was Peak Tarantino. After seeing Parasite, I have no objection.
Such triumph isn’t a surprise given writer-director Bong Joon-ho’s string of stellar movies this decade, several in English. Parasite sticks close to home, set in Seoul, spoken in Korean. All ironic, only some is Korean specific, most is universal circa 2019. No wonder the sophisticates in Cannes ate it up. I did too.
The dichotomy between the nihilism of criminals and their traditional family values on the homefront has been a font of irony for several post-modern filmmakers, from Chase’s Sopranos to Bong’s Parasite.
Irony is heavily trafficked in Parasite, where a family of grifters displays amazing talent and diligence in their criminal efforts, yet slovenliness and lassitude in their personal life. Weirdly, they are content in their traditional little nuclear family unit, even the attractive and talented teenagers. That last part is kinda weird.
Bong’s sophisticated humor gets darker and darker and darker. His Parasite telegraphs its moves, making the McGuffins all the more entertaining. This is masterclass moviemaking, deserving of a Golden Palm.
Writer-director Bong Joon-ho seems most concerned by class distinctions, nevermind that Parasite’s lower class family in a homogenous Korean society is clearly less well-off due to their manifest lack of virtue.
Circumstantially surreal, otherwise totally natural: brilliant reticence for a perfect specimen of filmic art.