SEPTEMBER 19 — Some auteurs, like Takashi Miike, Rainer Werner Fassbinder and Michal Winterbottom, are effortlessly prolific, churning out a new feature every couple of years with factory-like regularity. 

Some directors, like Hong Sang-soo, who’s made 35 films in 30 years, are even beyond prolific. And then there are directors like Na Hong-jin.

Ever since his breakthrough with 2008’s The Chaser, Na has taken his own sweet time between projects. 

While The Chaser established his mastery over the gritty Korean thriller and The Yellow Sea pushed that kinetic violence to near-unbearable extremes with bigger set-pieces, it was 2016’s The Wailing that solidified him as a modern master. 

That film, a terrifying, hallucinatory masterpiece of supernatural dread and rural paranoia, remains my absolute favorite of his work. 

Now, a full decade later, Na has finally returned with Hope, a film that is as utterly unhinged as it is technically extraordinary.

On paper, Hope arrives with a massive reputation, billed as having the biggest budget in Korean cinematic history at a reported US$40 million (RM163 million). 

But let’s put that into perspective for a second. In the bloated ecosystem of contemporary Hollywood, US$40 million is practically pocket change. 

It’s what American studios spend on a mid-tier studio comedy, a couple of superhero reshoots, or marketing campaigns alone. 

Yet, what Na Hong-jin manages to wring out of that price tag puts US$200 million Western blockbusters to absolute shame.

Unsurprisingly, critical reactions out of its early screenings have been intensely divided. 

This is a true “love it or hate it” movie in the purest sense. If you walk into the cinema expecting a complex, intricate narrative with layered plot twists, political allegory, or heavy emotional subtext, this film is simply not for you.

In terms of pure narrative, Hope is, quite frankly, a “nothing” film.

Set in Port Hope, an isolated Korean seaside village near the Demilitarized Zone, the story kicks off when local police officers investigate a series of mysterious attacks on livestock. 

That single incident quickly spirals into a relentless, nightmare siege against an unknown, terrifying alien entity lurking in the surrounding wilderness. 

And... that is essentially it. 

The plot doesn’t branch out into multi-layered investigative detours or deep character backstories. It is a straight line of pure, visceral survival from start to finish.

Where Hope becomes an absolute “everything” film, however, is in its pure action craftsmanship.

Much like George Miller’s Mad Max: Fury Road, Na treats narrative merely as an ignition key to start a two-hour plus engine of kinetic mayhem. 

If you have any experience with making films, or even a passing appreciation for the mechanics of cinema, you will spend the entire runtime marvelling at the sheer technical achievements on display here. 

Working alongside legendary cinematographer Hong Kyung-pyo (The Wailing, Parasite), and his longtime editor Kim Sun-min, Na constructs set-pieces that feel like they shouldn’t logically exist.

The editing, in particular, is a masterclass. In an era where fast cuts are often used to hide cheap stunt work, the rhythm of Hope’s editing is astonishingly precise. 

Every cut carries physical momentum, every transition makes absolute sense despite the chaotic mood, and the audio design works in tandem with the visual cuts to create a sensory assault that leaves you breathless. 

Long tracking shots weave seamlessly into fast reaction cuts, building a sense of escalating panic that never sacrifices spatial clarity.

That said, the film isn’t entirely without its stumbles. For one, the visual effects are a notable letdown. 

Despite the record-breaking domestic budget, the film’s CGI unfortunately looks pretty cheap and distracting. 

When the alien threats move out of the murky shadows and into full view, the digital rendering lacks the weight and texture of the practical sets surrounding it, creating a frustrating clash between top tier physical filmmaking and undercooked VFX.

Even more distracting, though, is a sudden, jarring shift towards the end. 

Right when the film should be barreling toward a clean, visceral finish, it stumbles into lore-building territory. 

A giant alien ship suddenly crashes to Earth, and out of nowhere, the alien dialogue becomes subtitled when it was previously completely incomprehensible. 

Hints of backstory are abruptly dumped on the audience in what is clearly a move to set up a sequel should the box office numbers justify it. 

I get the business rationale behind franchise building, but if Na had just kept this one minimalist, lean, and all-action all the way to the end, it would have been absolute perfection.

As the polarising reactions have proved, Hope will unfortunately alienate casual moviegoers who prioritise script density, seamless CGI, and elaborate exposition over raw visual storytelling. 

hoBut for those of us who appreciate genre cinema elevated to the level of pure, unadulterated craft, Na Hong-jin has delivered an audacious, heart pounding triumph that proves why he is still worth waiting a decade for.

* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.