Crossing the Line: the Evolution of Class-Conflict Films from The Italian to Parasite

“The winner is a movie from South Korea, what the hell was that all about? We got enough problems with South Korea with trade and on top of that, they gave them the best movie of the year. Was it good? I don’t know. I’m looking for, like — can we get like Gone with the Wind back please?” — Donald Trump.

There couldn’t be a better way to justify the significance of Parasite than analyzing the statement above made by the 45th president of the United States. It was a global surprise when Parasite, a film made by a South Korean director named Bong Joon Ho, won every award in the Oscars that it was nominated for. It was additionally impressive because 2019 was not a slow year for the western film industry either. Bong trumped over industry giants such as Quentin Tarantino, Sam Mendes, Todd Phillips, and Martin Scorsese, who Bong mentioned as one of his greatest role models in his speech. It was the first time in history that a foreign film won the Best Pictures for the Oscars, and the cheering crowd in the Trump rally testifies to the divisive reaction it earned in the United States. As the birthplace of motion pictures, the United States enjoyed a hegemony of cinema that continues today. The tropes commonly identified in its films are widely accepted globally and considered essential and a part of traditional filmmaking. Parasite, however, was anything but like classic American films like Gone with the Wind. Class-conflict films have been prevalent ever since the very dawn of cinema in the early 1900s, and the capitalist society today continues to make its message as valid as it was more than a century ago. Parasite acts as an evolution from the traditional tropes of class-conflict films by embracing the falsehood of the dualist concept of the rich being evil and the poor being good. These ideas are presented through immaculate cinematography and the usage of symbols. Furthermore, its artistic cinematography intensifies the message of the severity of wealth inequality. In combination with these two factors, Parasite acts as a powerful critique of its preceding films, such as the Italian, by showing that its naive, simple structures cannot correctly represent the complexity of class struggles in the modern era.

“Once you overcome the one-inch tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.” — Bong Joon Ho.

The adverse reactions to Parasite show the controversy surrounding foreign films in the United States. After Parasite won the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay, a prevalent TV host named Jon Miller posted this tweet: “A man named Bong Joon Ho wins #Oscar for best original screenplay over Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and 1917. The acceptance speech was: ‘GREAT HONOR. THANK YOU.’ Then he proceeds to give the rest of his speech in Korean. These people are the destruction of America.” (Wright) The inclusion of 1917 and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood demonstrates a specific bias that Miller implicitly gives away. The film, which Sam Mendes directed, was British-made and technically as much of a foreign film as Parasite. The difference, of course, was that 1917 was filmed in English, and Parasite was filmed in Korean. The repulsiveness of a non-English speaking film winning the Oscars was not restricted to the likes of Jon Miller. Another viewer with less public pedigree also gained internet fame as he uploaded a video “to complain about Parasite winning Best Picture, and has not even seen the film.” (Wright) He further elaborated that he “loves Joker because Joker is about how people in high places look down on people in poverty,” when Parasite addresses an almost identical social injustice. (Wright) This comical hatred for the film shows that xenophobia is not solely restricted to American society’s social and political spheres.

“Bong — along with Tarantino and Almodóvar — has become a director who is a genre all of his own.” — BBC.

Despite the prevalent negativity, the American critics showered Parasite with accolades for advancing the class-conflict cinema to another level. Critics immediately acclaimed the universality of Parasite: “The story takes place in South Korea but could easily unfold in Los Angeles or London.” (Dargis) The Park’s struggle to make it no matter what by trampling over countless other working-class citizens is despicable but heavily relatable to today’s highly competitive, capitalist society. The diversity of the emotions that are provoked from the film itself has also contributed to the lionizing of the film: “A riotous social satire that’s as glorious entertaining as it is deeply sardonic.” (Nugent) These reactions can initially be confusing, as the theme of social inequality and the battle between the impoverished and the affluent have been a consistent essential throughout film history. While the specifics of the film will be discussed later on in the paper, the paradoxical uniqueness of the film is best described by Nugent: “Parasite somehow manages to scratch every cinematic itch you have and offers more up you didn’t know you had.” (Dungent) The reviews unanimously praised the film’s technical prowess and the cast of Korean actors that surpassed the language barrier to express a compelling, emotional story. Despite the xenophobic reactions from some of the U.S. citizens, such hate was equally matched by the serenades of film critics and mass media.

“At the eternal bedside of his baby where hate, revenge, and bitterness melt to nothing in the crucible of sorrow.” — The Italian

The lack of a clear villain in Parasite is directly contrasted with The Italian, a film released in 1915 that addresses income inequality in a very dualistic way. The presence of a villain in The Italian can be given away by the stark apparel choices that separate the impoverished but good, protagonists such as Beppo, to the corrupt yet decadent villains like Bill Corrigan. While Beppo’s apparels seem filthy and unkempt, they are a brighter shade that often reflects light onto the screen (The Italian 26:59–27:05). Even in moments where he wears a suit to welcome his loved one, the audience can see the clear connection between the protagonist and brighter apparels (The Italian 33:12–33:45). Of course, a villain wouldn’t be one without vicious deeds. Bill Corrigan’s refusal to help Beppo at a moment of need results in Beppo’s child to die from sickness.

On the other hand, Beppo cannot bring himself to seek revenge even when he had the chance to murder Corrigan’s child. Such apparent, distinct differences in character create a very polar, hence simple, moral landscape that the audience can easily interpret. The audience is to sympathize with the tragedy of Beppo while cursing the greedy, selfish acts of Corrigan. This straightforward narrative creates a very digestible message for the audience at the time. After all, many of them were working-class men that wished to be heralded as heroes while villainizing their employers. However, the crude, one-dimensional nature of the film that associates goodness with poverty and evil with affluence is immature and an inaccurate depiction of the complex modern society.

“She knew never to cross the line. I can’t stand people who cross the line.” — Park Dong Ik.

Parasite immediately abandons the idea of connecting morality to economic status and focuses specifically on visually depicting the wealth disparity between the Parks and the Kims. The differences between the families are glaringly apparent from the beginning. These differences were designed with intent when Bong created both Parks’ and the Kims’ residences for the film. The Kims live in a dark, humid semi-basement apartment that is riddled with stink bugs. Despite the cheap rent, the Kims struggle to pay their bills. They are a group of social outcasts. Kim Gi Taek, the family’s patriarch, failed multiple business ventures that deteriorated the family finances. Both of the children, Gi Woo, and Gi Gijung, failed their college entrance exams multiple times. The only form of success that the family had was achieved by the mother, Guk Moongwang, a national athlete during her high school years. Her silver medal is framed on the wall where she and Gi Taek sleep (Parasite 02:44–02:45). In comparison, the Park family is a prime example of a success story. Bong adds a direct contrast to emphasize the difference between the Kims and the Parks when Ki Woo visits the Parks’ mansion for the first time. On the wall right next to the living room, the accomplishments of the patriarch, Park Dong Ik, are in full display. (Parasite 14:35–14:42) A feat such as being a high school athlete is quickly dwarfed by Dong Ik’s, who received global accolades for his achievements as an IT entrepreneur. From this moment, a figurative and literal line is drawn between working-class families like the Kims and the Parks. The literal nature of the line, if one may wonder, is visually visible throughout the movie. Merely seconds after the shot that shows Dong Ik’s awards, Gi Woo witnesses the housekeeper trying to wake up Choi Yeon Gyo, the madame of the house. The space between the glass divides the space that the housekeeper and the madame occupy. When she notices that Yeon Gyo is deep asleep, the housekeeper briefly crosses the line to wake her with a loud clap. Immediately after, however, she retreats to her side as Yeon Gyo comes to her senses (Parasite 14:45–14:49). The symbolic significance of this line is constantly emphasized throughout the film. From the opening between the two fridge doors to a lampstand on the back, linear lines can be often spotted that divide the space between the Kims and the Parks. This subtle yet existing line is a grim reminder to the Kims. The Parks will remain, superior classes of people in Korean society, while the Kims must serve the Parks and rely on their wealth to make a living. On occasions where they cross the line, dire consequences follow. Bong uses the same shot of the housekeeper later in the film to provide visual evidence that she is relieved of her duties when the Kims successfully frame her with one of their hoaxes (Parasite 46:25–46:27). In the eyes of Yeon Gyo, the housekeeper has crossed the line, and it becomes the reason to fire her.

The details of the two different houses further emphasize this difference in an appealing, powerful method by using both cinematography and visual architecture. The close similarity between the houses that can be noticed is with a window shown to the audience when they see the respective homes (Parasite 1:10–1:20, 13:45–13:50). This similarity has a specific detail, for the ratio of the windows are entirely identical to one another. However, this window is not necessarily employed to equate the two families together but to further juxtapose them. The shots taken in the Kims’ household have the camera angle from the right of the window. On the other hand, the shots from the Parks’ mansion are from the left of the window. The film continues to present details that are much more explicit than the different angles of the windows. The most notable one is the physical difference in elevation of the two houses and their residents. There are frequent shots where the Kims are physically lower than the Parks while conversing with one another (Parasite 20:15–20:40). They also constantly bow to lower their stature when they are ever in even ground (Parasite 38:26–38:27). This theme is intensified when comparing the location of these two houses. The fact that the Parks’ residence is located at a high altitude is self-evident by examining the shots that show the working class leaving or arriving at their place. When Ki Woo visits the home for the first time, he is seen going up the road to the Parks’ (Parasite 12:53–13:05). When Ki Woo leaves the same place, he descends the road (Parasite 41:09–41:12). This difference in verticality does not maintain this subtle, however. When the Kims escape from the Parks’ house after the owners return from their camping trip, the proceeding shots focus on Kims’ journey back to their home on foot. From the stairs that the family takes out of the Parks’, the Kims’ are seen physically descending endlessly down stairs, hills, ramps to their destitute, flooded house (Parasite 1:32:55–1:35:35). The difference between the two families is intensified even further by Yeon Gyo’s comment the following day. To the Parks, the rain was a beneficial occurrence that allowed the air to clear out, while it devastated the Kims and their neighbors’ homes to the point where the entire neighborhood had to evacuate to a nearby gym to spend the night. As if past comparisons were not enough, Bong exemplifies the wealth disparity one last time by showing the Kims’ and the Parks’ respective preparations for the upcoming party (Parasite 1:43:05–1:43:29). In summation, the insurmountable gap between the two families presents two things. First, it provides further context to the difficulty of social climbing by showing the unimaginable differences between the world of the poor and the rich. Second, it allows the audience to focus on wealth disparity more directly by refusing to create morally polarizing characters that traditional class-conflict films such as The Italian would do.

“This is so metaphorical” — Kim Gi Woo.

Parasite employs countless symbols to exemplify messages throughout the film. In particular, the scholar’s stone is utilized to present the bleak, impossible dream of the Kims’ to elevate their financial status. The scholar’s stone can be seen as an initiator of the events that unfold in the story. After all, Min, an old family friend of the Kims, gave the stone to them since it was meant to bring material wealth to the house members. One by one, the Kims infiltrate the Parks’ residence through trickery and deceit. Once sustaining off of molded bread and part-time jobs at the local pizza parlor, they were able to take the Parks’ house to themselves during their trip and get a taste of affluence (Parasite 56:50–57:35). However, the comfort does not last long as the grim reality of their unchanged social status seeps back into their view. The ultimate depiction of their situation comes in a subtle yet powerful revelation of the true identity of the scholar’s stone. During the rainstorm that flooded the Kims’ residence, the camera focuses on the scholar’s stone floating atop the sewer water, slowly submerging the house (Parasite 1:37:53–1:38:09). The stone was a fake, and this epiphany strikes Gi Woo the most, who is also the person that constantly remarks on metaphors throughout the film. Much like the stone, the Kims’ employed falsehood and deceit to raise their financial status. Despite all their clever plans, however, they could still not escape the semi-basement hovel that is their home. The empty promise of social mobility is perfectly depicted by the hollow stone that is not even heavy enough to kill Gi Woo when he was struck by it twice in the head. And its inescapable grasp is shown when Gi Woo states the stone keeps “clinging to him” (Parasite 1:41:36–1:41:38). Even though the scholar’s stone stops appearing on the screen at the end of the film, the presence of poverty lingers until the very end. The audience sees the same slow descent down from the semi-basement window of the Kims’. And the snow outside the window acts as a grim reminder of the fact that time continues to pass as he fails to escape his poverty.

The artistic maturity of Parasite comes from the lack of answers the film provides to address the bane of capitalism that has been discussed for centuries. The film abandons the traditional form of villainizing the rich to create a more holistic, realistic view of the problem that plagues modern society. As class-conflict films continue to be a popular narrative in cinema even today, the danger of polarizing the two parties stays ever so relevant. As the conflict between the two classes remains inevitable as much as the existence of the divide itself, any aggravation will likely do more harm than good. Parasite instigates no aggravation, which may be confusing and even uncomfortable for the film’s audience. One can argue that the Kims are closer to being evil than the Parks in the first half as they trick their way into the houses’ service. However, the audience cannot help but root for the Kims. The comedic moments where they plan for their infiltration are met with laughter in the theatre rather than scorn. This trend reveals many things about the audience themselves. Firstly, it demonstrates the subliminal familiarity that the audience possesses with class-conflict films as they support heinous actions done by the poor solely due to their financial status. Secondly, it confirms the existence of such bias by the rousing of discomfort that the audience experiences as the story spirals to the climax of Kim Gi Taek murdering Park Dong Ik. The sentiment comes from the fact that the murder is unjust, hence condemnable according to the standard moral code. But at the same time, the hatred of the rich continues to emphasize the enigmatic question that the movie seems to ask. Who is evil? Or rather, what is evil?