Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite

I felt no hesitation when I booked my tickets for this film; my first foreign film on the big screen. Be that as it may, this, in fact, was my third time watching Parasite.

The film follows a chain of command. It’s an immediate setting, a disparaging, a binding atmosphere shrouded in eccentric and gasping possessions. And then some. Bong has thoughtfully crafted his characters, their dialogue, and the spaces that contain them. The term ‘parasite’ for a film this tragic yet amusing is cryptic. It permeates the plot and one’s comprehension of it.

Bong’s other film Snowpiercer, created a horizontal pecking order. A spectacular schism of sight, sound, and sensation. In Parasite, the vertical – high to low dimensions – create a strange, icky, and tentacled feeling. No matter how grotesque and unrelenting this may be to see, it’s a source. A source that contains and feeds everything else. As precious and indispensable as a seed is to the plant and a brush to the painting.

Conveying the differences in lifestyle, conduct, perhaps even morality, through Parasite’s stunning architectural lens, Parasite is unconventional. It’s done in unconventional strokes but the picture is quite ordinary and relatable. You have an objective perspective dividing the rich from the poor and the in-betweeners. And to make this possible, Parasite’s symmetry is built from the ground up. It’s artistic, intimate, and infiltrating.

The rich house – with its floors, glass walls, perfectly-sculpted furniture, and a geometric emphasis on space is the perfect dissection of a condescendingly cadenced life. The poor house – with its half-basement blends into its own stationery construct. It’s soft, disheveled, and raw. And there’s always the camera taking you back and forth these two lives. The swift, eye-beholding radiance of it all, the naivety, foolishness, the unmistakable captivity. It’s all ensconced in this “metaphorical” and provoking film.