Other Noteworthy Elements

Ryan and Ella’s marriage appears to be on the rocks. Ella wonders if Ryan only married her for the perks of her career (even when they were young, it was clear Ella had a big future in store). And Ryan’s foul behavior suggests this is true.

When Ella forgets to thank Ryan for his support during a speech (because she gets flustered by unexpected interruptions from Governor Bill), Ryan essentially throws a temper tantrum. He uses the incident to try to convince Ella to get him a political position (egged on by his mother, who belittles her own husband). He then resorts to unscrupulous means to manipulate and embarrass Ella, holding the threat of divorce over her head.

We’re told that other politicians despise Ella. Her very presence reminds them of their own inadequacies as policymakers and compromises they’ve made as politicians. (At one point, Ella criticizes the majority of her fellow politicians for spending more time campaigning than they do reading proposed legislation.) Even Bill, when Ella asks him for advice, is hesitant to openly support Ella, since it could hurt his own career. As such, the film seems to serve as a commentary on the political state at large: Ella literally says, “You can’t be popular and fix anything.”

Not long after Eddie’s affairs come out, Helen hugs him and tells him she loves him but that she’ll never forgive him for cheating on his wife. Years later, Eddie seemingly tries to make amends with his children, but it’s fueled by a selfish desire, since his current girlfriend told him she wouldn’t marry him unless he made up with his kids. And when Helen tells Eddie that he needs to stop messing up long enough for his kids to forgive him and do the work required to fix his relationships, he retorts that his kids will “be better” once they forgive him.

We learn that Ella’s mom passed away young, though we’re not given the details of what caused her death. Eddie admits that he sent Casey to military school after her death because he “didn’t want the responsibility” and that he avoided Ella because he was scared of how she’d react to that decision. (At the film’s start, he and Ella haven’t spoken in 13 years.)

A politician uses a cheat sheet of sorts while calling donors to make it seem like he cares about them. People lie, scheme and manipulate others. We hear about political blackmail and bribery. Casey’s job involves advising people on sports betting. A trooper assigned to Ella’s protection unit purposely goes into overtime in spite of a budget crisis because he’s tight on cash and apparently going through an expensive divorce.

Casey is described as agoraphobic because he hasn’t left his house in 13 months. However, he insists that his reclusiveness is a choice—that he can leave whenever he wants. But he does seem to have some severe anxiety about leaving, and we learn that his self-imposed solitary confinement followed an embarrassing romantic mishap. His house is littered with dirty dishes and bags of trash.

A woman gets petty revenge against someone by calling the health department on his pizzeria and getting it shut down.

[Spoiler warning] Ryan, in a strange grab for attention, starts a political scandal for Ella involving blackmail and bribery. He gives Ella an ultimatum, and Ella responds that if he loved her—if he even liked her—he wouldn’t be doing this to her. Because Ryan doesn’t get what he wants, he blames the blackmail and bribery on Ella, telling the press that he’s divorcing her. And the scandal, though completely fabricated, is bad enough for her party to remove her from office.

Most people who have seen a few director Park movies will agree that he has one of the most creative and crazy minds out there. I’m happy to join the choir. This marks the 55-year-old filmmaker’s inaugural foray into the Black comedy subgenre, although we are cognizant of his cheekiness. 

Director Park’s examination of the economic class structures in South Korea, as evidenced by Man-soo’s dismissal, is as bleak as it is in any other urbanized capitalist nation. It is, after all, based on an American novel, but it exploits this premise to build a powerful Black comedy. With No Other Choice‘s straightforward plot, he deconstructs the conventions of masculinity under a capitalistic umbrella through a kooky but always funny atmosphere. One equally funny and depressing recurring gag is post-firing affirmations that many of the unemployed former breadwinners use as an excuse to continue their self-pity wallowing. Man-soo’s dubious scheme reflects himself in his fellow compatriots, who share the same ill fate. They all neglect their loving families, becoming real-time losers to the significant impact of the capitalist culture on the common man. As the plot develops, Park explores the twisted but captivating development of this man regaining his sense of self and spine… You know, through murder. 

As this social satire unfolds in dark, humorous ways, No Other Choice is a rare example of style and substance working together. Director Park throws every stylistic option he can at the wall, and almost everything sticks. Mainly because his imaginative lens – crossfades, dissolves, and memorable feats – is both visually captivating and enriching to Man-soo’s mission. The film encroaches on noir-thriller sensibilities, especially with its modern setting. Man-soo’s choices become more engrossing and inventive, proving timely even in its most familiar beats while personalizing every supporting character. 

Director Park and his reunion with director of photography Kim Woo-hyung from The Little Drummer Girl execute a distinctive vision that flawlessly captures the screwball comedy archetype with its own rhythmic precision and stunning visuals, particularly in contrast to the picturesque autumnal backdrop. Compared to Decision to Leave, it’s more maximalist, but it still makes you think, “Wow, this is how movies should look.” Nevertheless, the meticulous framework and blocking in the numerous chaotic sequences impart a unique dark-comedic tone that evokes a classic comedy from the height of silent era cinema, albeit in stunning Technicolor. 

In an exceptional leading performance, Lee Byung-hun channels his inner Chaplin.