To date, Na Hong-Jin has only ever helmed three films – his most recent being 2016 mystery thriller, The Wailing. Six years earlier, Na sat in for his second film after 2008’s The Chaser with The Yellow Sea, reuniting with actor Ha Jung-Woo two years later. Ha happens to be one of my favorite actors as of 2014 when I first saw him in Yoon Jong-Bin’s Kundo. The Yellow Sea retroactively reaffirms this in one of the rawest performances you’ll see amidst an epic crime drama that almost never lets up in its intensity or bleakness.
At two hours and change, there is a lot to unpack, but the gist of the story centers on Gu-nam, a Joseonjok migrant who reluctantly accepts an offer from a local crimeboss to travel to Korea to perform a hit-for-hire. Calamity ensues when he’s framed for the murder, ensuing a twist of events that soon make him a target of both a Korean mafia and the Korean-Chinese mob. I won’t go in too much detail with this movie, and for a few reasons I’ll get into later. What I will add to this in the years since this film came out is that I’m glad I finally caught onto it, given how much I admire Ha’s acting and the brooding, dark and unapologetic millieu that Na crafts for this violent, heartbreaking, almost mesmerizing tale.
Right at the crux of this story is a theme central to the loss of hope, or perhaps a lingering sense of it depending on how you feel by the post-credits scene. Gu-nam’s stricken sense of quiet longing is the catalyst for pretty much everything that happens going forward. His family is long broken in the time since his wife left to Korea for work only to end up missing, and the grapevine-level suspicion of infidelity does nothing to quell his echoing nightmares.
We see this theme continue throughout with other characters as the truth slowly begins to unravel as to who hired who, along with the other inquisitive W-words to help explain the capacity to which other characters are present. Interestingly, the movie begins with a narration by Gu-nam telling of an explicit childhood memory about a dog with rabies. This particular preface comes in handy in part when things jettison about fifty minutes in and people start breaking out the knives, billy clubs and hatchets.
The subtext here gets especially real with the role of crime boss Myung-Ga, played ferociously by fellow The Chaser star Kim Yun-Seok. He lives in dilapidation but his power and influence stand as equal in measure as that of any well-dressed and kept gangster – a fact that amply haunts fellow key antagonist Kim Tae-Won, played by Cho Seong-Ha, who himself is a philanderer with a bone to pick of his own.
Myung-Ga, especially, a killer compared to Kim whose own gang does his dirty work for him. The only key character among the three that doesn’t kill anyone – at least willingly or even actively – is Gu-nam, though it’s not for lack of trying as he’s chased through the streets of Gangnam and Busan while fighting to survive.
The action is relatively functional for what was acceptable at the time of this film’s release. Incessant camera shaking is a turn-off during select chase and action scenes and some of it is more friendly in several parts. Fight sequences in this film are as brutal, bloody and even cringeworthy as such scenes get for a feast on the eyes.
It’s enough to satisfy for entertainment value as something fans should expect of Korean cinema. Point in fact, I kept putting this movie off once I learned about it around 2011 and it wasn’t until last month when Iko Uwais sat with Rotten Tomatoes and gave lip service to The Yellow Sea as showcasing some of his favorite action scenes while doing PR for Mile 22 that I finally decided not to put it off any longer.
Less so a referendum on the state of impoverished ethnic Korean-Chinese, gladly Na’s script doesn’t ignore it either. It’s part of Gu-nam’s psyche, established from a generally understood rough upbringing, one in which ultimately anyone in his position would need to know how to defend himself to some degree.
Despite this, the central tragedy here lies from Gu-nam’s own internal suffering. We learn why by the post-credits, but it all dates back to his choice to go to Korea, a decision made in part by succumbing to the ever-present Dog-Eat-Dog mentality that foundates the world around him. Rumors, lies and deceit envelope our protagonist in a no-way-out scenario in which he’s then, and only then and provided that the people who’ve done him wrong are met halfway, resigned to his fate.
Contrary to what you might think about The Yellow Sea on its face, Na creates a perpetually harrowing crime thriller that almost feels nothing short of accidental. Underneath the murder, mystery and bloodletting action and gore, this one is a story of heartbreak and the perils of coping amid the constant flux of danger.
Gu-nam, as it stands, is just one figure in this foreboding landscape rife with flawed, selfish people. The most redeeming thing about this aspect of the film, apart from its exciting show of violence, is its protagonist and the award-winning performance we are offered to root for. He gets dealt a heavy, cruel hand each step of the way and yet his moral compass always brings him back to footing. Much to our chagrin, this also makes the big reveal in the final act of the film all the more angering, even when you’re even partly relieved that the bloodshed is over, though the symbolic loss of innocence, time, and a lot else feels truly sobering by this point.
There are just a few moments in the film that I couldn’t piece together right away, one which makes the story feel more convoluted than it needed to. This also speaks to at least one other key character who is also part of said big reveal due to seldom mentions in between all the moving people and pieces in this film, and so it’s easy to lose track.
The bottom line, however, is that I found this film to be a fun, enthralling character study about a man going through an air of quiet suffering and emotion I think most of us can identify with. The Yellow Sea is a ghastly venture into an abyss of climatic and explosive proportions. It bears more than plenty to dissect and analyze with each viewing in lieu of characterizing its identity and trajectory, so much so to its credit as an amply fascinating film for all takers.