NO OTHER CHOICE - Review | TIFF 2025

Park Chan-wook's latest film might be his most straight-forward and mainstream film to date. However, that doesn't take away from its universal story and ultra-dynamic blocking, making it a masterwork that couldn't have come from anyone else. A darkly hilarious critique on striving in a modern capitalist society, led by the remarkable Lee Byung-hun whose morally ambiguous descent into savagery after being laid off is enthralling to witness. Every potential detail for this concept feels fully explored along with constantly being awe-inspired for how Park finds such creative ways to set up supposed simple shots while masterfully balancing the humour with its dense scenarios. Even though its violence starts feeling repetitive after the first time it occurs, its final moments serve as a twisted payoff while leaving a lasting impression. Thus, making No Other Choice a timeless thrill ride bound to question one's morals.

Still Courtesy – Neon

Man-soo (portrayed by Lee Byung-hun) enjoys his perfect life working for a paper factory while living in his luxurious childhood house with two dogs, his wife Mi-ri (portrayed by Son Ye-jin), and her two children. That's until an acquisition of the company he works for results in many layoffs, including Man-soo. Given the shame he feels for the repercussions of his unemployment while being unable to secure a new job for months, he decides to take action and believes there's no other choice but to make his competition disappear so he can thrive.

After his far more violent and erotic work like Oldboy (2003), Thirst (2009), The Handmaiden (2016), and Decision to Leave (2022) known for their complex twists and turns, Park Chan-wook delivers what may be his most accessible and linear work yet. A surprising shift for a filmmaker celebrated for operatic excess and narrative intricacy. But “straightforward” doesn’t mean simplistic. Instead, Park refines his impulses into a sleek, precise moral fable that remains unmistakably his own. Every frame hums with compositional rigor and emotional tension, proving that even when operating within mainstream parameters, Park cannot help but reinvent them.

The film’s universality lies in its disarmingly simple premise: a man pushed to extremes after being discarded by the system that once sustained him. Yet Park transforms this familiar outline into something formally dazzling and thematically rich. His ultra-dynamic blocking turns cramped offices, fluorescent-lit apartments, and anonymous city streets into arenas of psychological warfare. The precision of his camera work—each pan, tilt, and focus shift—creates a visual rhythm that keeps even mundane scenes alive with moral complexity.

Still Courtesy – Neon

At the centre of this controlled chaos stands Lee Byung-hun, delivering one of his most compelling performances to date. His character’s descent from respectable salaryman to unhinged outcast is rendered with terrifying restraint. Park and Lee treat this transformation not as an isolated tragedy but as a symptom of something larger: the quiet brutality of modern capitalism. There’s a bitter humor in watching a man so conditioned to equate worth with work that, once unemployed, he begins to unravel into something feral. The laughter Park provokes is uneasy, but that discomfort is precisely the point.

Park’s tonal control is nothing short of virtuosic. He threads humor through despair, allowing satire and horror to coexist within the same frame. Each scene feels meticulously designed to test the audience’s empathy while exposing the absurdity of social order. If the bursts of violence occasionally verge on repetition, they nonetheless serve as rhythmic punctuation—expressions of frustration more than spectacle. Park seems less interested in shocking than in implicating, forcing viewers to confront their complicity in a system that rewards cruelty.

By the time No Other Choice (2025) reaches its chilling finale, Park has guided us through a moral labyrinth that feels both mythic and contemporary. The ending, twisted yet strangely inevitable, lands with the weight of tragic clarity. It’s a conclusion that lingers—less for its brutality than for its unnerving insight into how far one will go to reclaim dignity in a dehumanizing world. What begins as Park’s most “mainstream” effort ends as one of his most incisive, reaffirming him as a master of cinematic irony and human contradiction.

Verdict

9/10

Still Courtesy – Neon