In 2016, South Korean zombie movie Train to Busan gained international acclaim with a heartfelt tale of an absentee father reconnecting with his daughter thanks to a viral pandemic that turns their train ride into one of terror and survival. Recent news of its upcoming follow-up, Peninsula, makes it clear that it’s not your traditional sequel; it’s not a continuation of the story, but rather a new story told within the same universe. That doesn’t come as much of a surprise when taking Train to Busan’s prequel Seoul Station into account. Released in South Korea only a month after, this under the radar prequel drastically varied in style and tone, demonstrating a vibrant and expansive zombie-affected world to explore.
Written and directed by Yeon Sang-ho, Seoul Station sets its narrative right at the beginning of the pandemic in the heart of Seoul. Specifically, in the heart of the homeless population that’s taken up residence in Seoul’s major railway, which happens to offer express service to Busan. It’s only this setting that serves as the connective tissue between films, though, as the plot follows Hye-sun and the two men trying to reconnect with her after the outbreak separates them.
Hye-sun is a former sex worker living with her boyfriend, Ki-woong. He’s a bit of a screwup, and due to financial issues, Ki-woong plans to pimp Hye-sun out for money. Understandably, she’s less than thrilled with the notion. When a mob of infected homeless separates them, the rest of the narrative plays out against the familiar backdrop of a city under siege. The military rolls in and sets up quarantine procedures, installing roadblocks and obstacles that keep the lovers apart. Joining Ki-woong in his search for his girlfriend is Suk-gyu, Hye-sun’s estranged father. Nothing like an apocalyptic threat to bring a family together, right?
Right off the bat, it’s clear Yeon Sang-ho had a very different angle of humanity to explore with this prequel, and it’s not just the animation that gives it away. It’s that he’s framing the outbreak through the perspective of society’s most discarded and forgotten members. A teen runaway turned sex worker and her unemployed boyfriend are the protagonists. Early warning signs of a severe viral infection go unnoticed or disregarded because people turn a blind eye to the plight of the homeless. At the other end of the spectrum, Yeon Sang-ho paints authority figures with a cynical brush. The police and military are more interested in self-preservation than helping those most in need.
With both Train to Busan and Seoul Station, Yeon Sang-ho challenges the very notion of a modern family. In the former, it centers around a divorced father unused to being in his daughter’s life. In the latter, it features a teen struggling to survive on her own. She has no parents. A twist in the final act reveals Suk-gyu not to be the caring father he pretends to be, but a violent pimp determined to make her suffer for escaping him in the first place. Both offer up an emotionally gut-wrenching conclusion for its central characters.
The prequel, however, has a much grittier edge.
Zombies tend to serve as undead placeholders to reflect social issues or societal fears, and with the Train to Busan universe, Yeon Sang-ho is crafting a scathing and complicated South Korean zombie apocalypse with multiple angles of exploration. Each entry tonally and visually different from its predecessor, but with commonalities between them. Whereas Seoul Station took a hard stance on authority and the military, Peninsula is set to explore things from the perspective of a former soldier that heads back into the ravaged Korean peninsula. It’s this cultural examination that makes these films so engaging. Yeon Sang-ho isn’t reinventing the zombie movie wheel, but his approach still makes it feel fresh regardless.
By now, Train to Busan is being heralded as a modern zombie classic, but the underseen Seoul Station is just as worthy of praise. Considering Peninsula is set to arrive this summer, there’s no better time to catch up.
