Director Na Hong-jin’s latest film, Hope, is an experience that lingers long after the credits roll, defying easy categorization and prompting weeks of contemplation. Following his complex and unsettling 2014 film, The Wailing, which masterfully blended Korean history, Christian theology, and horror, Na once again delves into darker, more profound territories, creating a work of dizzying ambition and scale.
A Glimpse into Hope Harbour
The narrative unfolds in the remote village of Hope Harbour, situated perilously close to the North Korean border. The story kicks off with an unusual emergency call for Police Chief Ko Bum-seok, played by Hwang Jung-min, and his cousin Ko Sung-ki, portrayed by Zo In-sung. They arrive to find a bull brutally dismembered in the middle of a road, its remains a gory spectacle. Local hunters speculate about the cause, with a tiger descending from the Demilitarized Zone being the most plausible, albeit terrifying, explanation.
As Chief Bum-seok returns to the village to issue a warning, the hunters venture into the woods to track the supposed predator. Their pursuit takes a grim turn when they discover more mauled livestock and a farmer’s severed arm hanging from a tree. Deeper in the forest, they stumble upon an abandoned campsite where a full-grown bear has been buried alive, its snout barely visible. This discovery hints at a force far more powerful and malevolent than any earthly creature.
Unraveling the Mystery
Back in Hope Harbour, Chief Bum-seok finds the village reduced to ashes, its inhabitants brutally slain. The sheer devastation suggests an entity of immense power and rage. The chief, a striking figure in his high-heeled Beatle boots and leather jacket, navigates the eerie stillness and carnage, his footsteps echoing a strangely jaunty rhythm against the backdrop of terror. This juxtaposition of gonzo humor, a hallmark of Korean cinema, with palpable fear creates a disorienting yet compelling atmosphere.
Meanwhile, the hunters, led by Sung-ki, continue their investigation, their unease growing with each disturbing discovery. The film masterfully builds suspense, leaving audiences, much like Chief Bum-seok, searching for answers amidst overwhelming destruction. Is this a straightforward monster movie, a political allegory for inter-Korean relations, an exercise in extreme violence, or something entirely more abstract?
Bravado, Scale, and Shifting Sympathies
Hope stands as the most expensive film ever produced in South Korea, a fact evident in its breathtaking scale and audacious vision. Premiering at the Cannes Film Festival, the film polarized critics. Some dismissed it as mere genre fare, while others were captivated by its sheer bravado. The narrative takes a significant turn midway through, shifting audience sympathies in an unexpected direction.
Chief Bum-seok encounters a lone survivor sheltering under a bridge, and the two form an uneasy alliance. Their attempts to track the entity prove clumsy, leading to tragic mistakes, including shooting an innocent bystander and further attracting the monstrous force. Yet, the villagers are not entirely helpless. In a darkly humorous recurring motif, the elderly residents, armed with a surprising number of unregistered firearms, wage a chaotic war against the intruder. Im Sung-ae (Jung Ho-yeon), a rookie officer, emerges as a sympathetic figure, tending to the injured and bravely confronting the unknown with remarkable resourcefulness and a driving style reminiscent of a daredevil.
Humanity, Grotesquery, and the Unseen
Beyond the immediate threat, Hope explores a disquieting aspect of humanity. A scene depicting the hunters taking a break for a meal, with its unnervingly detailed focus on the sounds of mastication, injects a visceral sense of the grotesque. This bodily reality resurfaces when an elderly man recounts his initial encounter with the creatures, including a graphic, almost gratuitous, description of his battle with diarrhea – a moment that leaves the viewer questioning the director’s intent.
The mystery deepens with the revelation of the creatures’ extraterrestrial origins, marked by the discovery of a crashed spaceship. The aliens, portrayed with an ethereal grace, starkly contrast with the sweaty, deranged humans. As the film progresses through a series of Looney Tunes-esque chase sequences, the narrative highlights human greed, poor decision-making, and a general lack of empathy. Paradoxically, the supposed monsters begin to elicit sympathy, depicted in states of grief, protectiveness, and righteous anger.
A Cliffhanger and Theological Undertones
The film culminates in a dramatic cliffhanger, accompanied by a quote from Hebrews 11:1: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Director Na Hong-jin, in an interview, acknowledged the deliberate ambiguity, stating his intention to reflect on the film’s title and its ultimate feeling for the audience. He noted his recurring use of biblical passages to bookend his films, suggesting a deeper theological undercurrent.
The quote from Hebrews can be interpreted as a call for a new covenant, a cleansing of sins, and a path to evolution. This theme resonates with other contemporary films exploring alien encounters, such as Steven Spielberg’s Disclosure Day, which presented first contact as an opportunity for universal understanding. In contrast, Hope frames it through the lens of destruction, murder, and humanity’s inherent flaws, raising questions about redemption versus annihilation.
The film prompts reflection on the potential human response to the realization that we are not alone in the universe, a concept echoed by scientific discussions on extraterrestrial life and recent astronomical observations like comet 3I/ATLAS. Whether humanity is prepared for such a paradigm shift remains uncertain. The possibility of a sequel to Hope might offer further insights, but for now, the film leaves audiences grappling with profound questions about faith, existence, and the very nature of hope itself.
Hope is currently playing in major theaters.
