A road on an isolated countryside is shrouded by the approaching night. The sky is a deep blue, and only a few streetlights flicker in the distance. A man leaves one of the few houses in the area just as a taxicab pulls up. He continues to walk alone down the paved street as three people leave the cab and head towards the house. The man’s face is smeared with blood, but he appears content as he continues his aimless journey down the road. He wears an earpiece that’s listening into the house he just left—inside, the serial killer who murdered his pregnant wife is tied up to a guillotine, the only thing keeping him alive is the rope that’s in his mouth, holding the blade up. The killer knows he’s listening in; he yells profanities and threats, telling him that he fears nothing.
The killer has no idea that the son he abandoned is on the other side of the door along with his parents. “Dad?” He hears his son’s voice for the first time in years. He panics, realizing that if he opens the door he’s dead. He screams at his son and parents to leave, begging them not to come in but they can't hear his muffled noises. The killer’s father opens the door, causing the blade to drop down on his neck, decapitating him. His head rolls to the door where his family stare in shock. His mother screams his name.
Back on the road, the man stops. He removes the earpiece and begins walking again, more composed than he was before. Then he suddenly breaks down, shouting and sobbing to the sky. He can’t walk anymore so he cries in the middle of the street, his hands covering his face. Despite finally killing the man who murdered his wife, she’s still gone. The killer’s death won’t bring her back, no matter how brutal his demise was. The satisfaction of revenge was only short-lived but his wife’s death will last forever.
Revenge is a genre that is arguably done best by South Korean cinema—after international recognition with Park Chan-wook’s Oldboy, the country hasn’t slowed down with the theme of vengeance. I Saw the Devil, Bedevilled and The Man from Nowhere tell stories that are essentially about the same subject but are approached from various perspectives. The emotional impact is what hits us the strongest with these films—after the deed has been done, what else is there left to do? Exploring these three films and the context behind them might provide an insight into why, of all genres in this industry, revenge is one that has consistently stuck with South Korean films.
I Saw the Devil follows Soo-hyun (played by Lee Byung-hun) whose wife was murdered by serial killer Kyung-chul (Choi Min-sik). Soo-hyun embarks on a moral mission of torturing Kyung-chul by planting a tracking device on him and attacking him when he’s about to commit another crime. All of these acts lead up to Soo-hyun’s ultimate revenge of using family to kill Kyung-chul. I Saw the Devil provides both the initial satisfaction of revenge along with the emotional consequences that go along with committing the act.
The ending of the movie shows the true tragedy behind revenge: Soo-hyun gets Kyung-chul’s estranged family to indirectly kill him. Just before his death, Kyung-chul swore that he feared nothing, but the revelation that the family he left behind was about to unknowingly fulfill Soo-hyun’s revenge was enough for him to plead for his life. The killer’s death is usually when the story ends—happy ending because the antagonist is dead, right? Not for this movie.
Kyung-chul’s death, while extremely satisfying, won’t bring back Soo-hyun’s wife. He cries for the first time since her funeral, the grief of loss too much to handle. Revenge movies are far from joyous—the victim’s death or trauma still lingers throughout even if the film fails to acknowledge it again. In I Saw the Devil, the victim is never forgotten. The audience roots for Soo-hyun because of his humanity but we also acknowledge that he’s committing a crime, even if it is for good reason.
Unlike Kyung-chul’s obsession with killing, Soo-hyun plans to kill because his wife and unborn child were unfairly taken from him. His father-in-law even tells him that seeking revenge on the culprit won’t bring her back, and although he knows this he’s driven by pain and his own sense of moral justice. His breakdown at the end shows that he’s not a heartless killer like he initially set out to be. He’s not Kyung-chul; he’s a man who’s still grieving.
This is one of the most “realistic” endings for a revenge film due to the fact that Soo-hyun isn’t some emotionless superhuman seeking vengeance; he’s just like the rest of us when experiencing loss. The main problem with this genre of film is that protagonists aren’t portrayed as real people with emotions; they’re just killing machines who the audience is supposed to root for because of their traumatic experience. Films such as I Spit on Your Grave and The Last House on the Left rely on rape as shock value to drive revenge but outside of that, there’s no human investment behind it. It’s impossible not to root for the victim, but the victim has been defined solely by that event.
Just like I Saw the Devil, Bedevilled focuses on the emotional aspect of revenge but presents a different point of view. Hae-won (Ji Sung-won) is a city girl who only cares about herself and her job; the beginning of the film shows her witnessing a woman getting assaulted and when she’s taken in for questioning, she says that she didn’t see anything because she doesn't want to be caught up in the investigation. Needing to get away from her hectic life, she decides on a whim to visit her long-forgotten childhood friend, Bok-nam (Seo Young-hee) on the secluded island they both grew up on.
Unbeknownst to Hae-won when she arrives, Bok-nam is constantly abused by her husband and his brother, along with the elderly ladies of the island whose misogynist ideology supports their terrible actions. In the city, an investigation can place but this off-the-grid island has no sense of morality. The inhabitants are far from socially conscious, and this toxic mindset has been passed down for generations. Bok-nam has no one to go to for comfort and understanding. Even her daughter, Yeon-hee, is beginning to insult her because Bok-nam’s husband casually berates her in front of the young child.
Bok-nam knows it isn’t Yeon-hee’s fault; when both men and women are treating her like trash, Yeon-hee does what she thinks is normal. Bok-nam thinks of Hae-won’s visit to the island as a chance for them to escape to the city but Hae-won is completely oblivious to Bok-nam’s struggle so the desperate mother asks for help from a prostitute who visits her husband regularly. Their escape plan goes terribly wrong and Yeon-hee is killed trying to defend her mother.
In that moment, Bok-nam snaps—she’s no longer the passive wife who gets slapped around by everyone on the island, she’s a woman out for revenge against the people who caused her years of pain and now her daughter’s death. The elderly ladies who watched as Yeon-hee tried to stop her father from attacking Bok-nam are unsurprisingly on his side; they make comments that again blame the mother, only this time they point fingers at her for causing her own child’s death. Bok-nam’s husband, the one who pushed and killed Yeon-hee, is praised for putting Bok-nam in her place. He appears unbothered by his daughter’s death. And Hae-won, who supposedly didn’t witness the crime take place, once again distances herself from the situation. Bok-nam is alone again, only this time the one person who gave her hope has been taken away from her.
Whereas the death of Soo-hyun’s wife prompted him to act, Bok-nam is someone who was pushed to the edge of madness. Her words and opinions go unnoticed, she’s rejected and abused for simply being a woman. She only wanted to get away to the city so she could provide a normal life for her daughter. Yeon-hee was her happiness and now that she’s gone, she has no one to start a better life with. Hae-won can’t bring herself to even listen to the woman she grew up with. No one is on her side except the audience but even then, it’s unsettling to watch this previously unassertive woman snap to a cold-hearted killer.
Instead of just killing her husband, she also kills the elderly women and her brother-in-law. This type of rage has been boiling in her for years, and her daughter’s death was the tipping point to commit the act. Despite the crime, can we really blame her for what she did? This is a woman who’s been pushed around since she and Hae-won were little girls—but Hae-won ended up leaving, and Bok-nam was left to endure on her own. One would think after witnessing the abuse Bok-nam goes through, Hae-won would understand why she thought this was the only choice to make but she failed to see the truth until it was too late.
This is where the tragedy hits again: Bok-nam escapes the island after killing everyone, a seemingly positive outcome. Before she leaves, she puts on makeup along with one of Hae-won’s dresses and even heels. It’s the first time the audience sees her glam herself up, a huge contrast from the oversized clothes that she wore on the island. But before she can embark on a new life, she has one more task to complete: killing Hae-won. It’s revealed that her childhood friend was in fact present during Yeon-hee’s death, and she still didn’t take her side. Whether it was out of fear or out of selfishness, Hae-won’s actions have again left an abused woman helpless to the cruelty around them.
In a surprise twist, Hae-won ends up killing Bok-nam in self-defense with the flute both girls played with as children. Bok-nam dies in her friend’s arms, playing a tune they both knew one last time. In that moment, Hae-won sees the girl she abandoned for the city, the woman she never believed. Bok-nam sent Hae-won numerous letters that she never opened, and when she finally read them after her death she saw that Bok-nam was in desperate need of help but she never thought to answer because she chose to ignore her friend’s letters.
Hae-won has to live with her indirect involvement in both Yeon-hee and Bok-nam’s death; if she just took the time to pay attention to anyone but herself, she could’ve helped her childhood friend. Instead, their deaths will forever haunt her and as a result the film ends with her heading back to the police station to testify as a witness for the assault that she previously saw. Despite a depressing ending, we’re left an emotional investment in Bok-nam’s story and even a commentary on the dangers of being a bystander in the face of crime.
Both I Saw the Devil and Bedevilled feature protagonists who are put in extreme positions. Their humanity is present throughout the movie and that’s what makes it difficult to watch when they do resort to violence. Soo-hyun’s breakdown and Bok-nam’s death are crucial scenes not because they’re at the end of the film, but because the scenes show that they’re still people who’ve experienced loss. We don’t resent them because they’ve killed but the reality of their situations leave them in a less-than-ideal scenario.
A little different from I Saw the Devil and Bedevilled, The Man from Nowhere is marketed as an action film, but it’s essentially about revenge and the consequences behind it. Cha Tae-sik (Won Bin) is a reclusive pawnshop owner whose only interaction with society is a young girl, So-mi (Kim Sae-ron). So-mi’s mother is a heroin addict and her father is absent, so she has to fend for herself, even if it means getting in fights. She’s looked down on for being an outcast and has no friends but Tae-sik is the only person who spends time with her, even if he doesn’t talk.
Tae-sik doesn’t realize how important he is to So-mi; he just thinks of her as a loner who finds company in another loner like himself. When So-mi is in trouble for fighting another classmate, school security asks her where her parents are. Tae-sik happens to be in the area when the situation is taking place, so she points to him. As security starts to walk towards him, he walks away, distancing himself from the conflict. Later that night, Tae-sik finds So-mi and she tells him that she doesn’t hate him for abandoning her because everyone already rejects her.
As if things couldn’t get worse for So-mi, her addict mother is in deep trouble for stealing money from the mob. When she gets home, members of the gang are in the process of questioning her mother for hiding the money. They kidnap both, and find out the money is in the possession of Tae-sik. When he finds out So-mi has been kidnapped to have her organs harvested, he goes on a bloody rampage to save her.
Tae-sik is initially different from Soo-hyun and Bok-nam because he’s difficult to relate to—he avoids society and has no family. Who is this man? How can we justify his actions? We support him because of his friendship with So-mi; when he learns that she’s been taken, he doesn’t debate whether or not to save her, he immediately starts killing off members of the mob to find her. His relationship with So-mi, although not love, is a sense of protection that he didn’t realize he possessed over her. The one person who reminded him of himself has been kidnapped; he clearly cares for her even if he won’t say it but his rampage is reason enough to show how much she means to him.
Another difference that separates Tae-sik from Soo-hyun and Bok-nam is that when he begins his journey to find So-mi, he’s portrayed as an invincible character. He knows every move that the enemy is going to make, and he takes them out with ease. It’s later revealed that he was an agent for the Korean government whose pregnant wife was murdered by an assassin (recurring theme, anyone?) who also tried to kill Tae-sik. His personality is now justified—a man who lost his wife to an unknown killer doesn’t want to associate himself with anyone else. He’s afraid of connection because he doesn’t want a repeat of what happened to his family. But when So-mi is kidnapped, all of his anger from his wife and unborn child’s death are mixed in with his determination to find So-mi. He’s shown as merciless and nothing stops him.
It’s not until he’s tricked into believing that So-mi was killed that he has his breakdown. He takes out the remaining members of the mob, but he’s too late. He couldn’t save So-mi in time, now she’s gone just like his wife and child. With loss on his mind, he puts a gun to his head. But before he could pull the trigger, So-mi calls his name. She’s alive. The girl he killed nearly hundreds for is alive. This near-indestructible character is still relatable because of his past and current actions. In the moment where he was about to commit suicide, he was human again. He didn’t walk away unfazed by her apparent death, he was distraught.
Unlike I Saw the Devil and Bedevilled where the protagonists never face law enforcement, The Man from Nowhere ends with Tae-sik getting arrested. He’s allowed limited time with So-mi before the police intervene, so he decides to buy her school supplies. This is something he never got the chance to do with his unborn child. Fighting to find So-mi is a personal redemption for him—he was unable to save his family, therefore he stopped at nothing to save So-mi. He asks her for a hug and when they embrace, he starts to cry. This man who killed like it was second nature to him is actually someone who cares. He’s vulnerable.
All of these movies are brutal to watch, but still leave us emotional at how invested we are in the characters. Now the real question is: why revenge? South Korean cinema continues to dominate the genre, but where did all of this pent-up anger come from? For years, South Korea has between the United States and North Korea’s conflict—the North still blames America for dividing the country. North Korea is convinced that the South is the delusional traitor that’s been dragged into American propaganda, and American soldiers are still stationed at the Korean Demilitarized Zone along with South Korean soldiers. Sometimes it looks like South Korea is just being dragged along for the ride, standing awkwardly at the bleachers while America and North Korea fight it out.
These violence-dominated films could be an outlet for South Korea, a message that says “Hey, we know how to kick ass too!” even if it’s done in film. Perhaps all the frustration at North Korea and their retrogressive society is easier to express in films such as Bedevilled where everyone on the island lives in the outdated past while Bok-nam desperately wishes to live in present time.
Or on a lighter note, South Korean cinema could be showing Hollywood how to do a revenge tale right. Despite Hollywood making insane amounts of money both domestically and overseas, it’s easy to see how repetitive American films can get. We have popular revenge movies like Inglorious Basterds and Django Unchained that are satisfying as hell to watch, but if you take the revenge away it’s just people killing people. Jewish people slaughtering Nazis for the Holocaust and a single black slave killing off slave masters and racists to find his wife is reason enough to be on their side but there’s no emotional investment in the protagonists, despite how extreme the situation is. We root for them, but we have to because they’re killing obviously bad people. After the revenge is complete, the movie is over with an ending that we all knew would happen.
With revenge films, the audience can almost always guess what the outcome will be. That’s why they’re called revenge films! But it gets boring when the same formula is repeated. Watching someone pick off bad guys one by one is only entertaining for so long. That’s where movies like I Saw the Devil, Bedevilled and The Man from Nowhere succeed. They promise you revenge, but at a cost. With these films, we see their vulnerability and despite their actions, these people who kill are still human like the rest of us.
