According to the English Oxford dictionary, there are two definitions for the term “parasite.” The more well-known of the two is as follows: an organism that lives in or on an organism of another species (its host) and benefits by deriving nutrients at the other’s expense. The second definition is more derogatory: a person who habitually relies on or exploits others and gives nothing in return.
In Bong Joon-Ho’s Palme d’Or-winning film, Parasite, both definitions apply. But as the film reaches its climax, audiences are left wondering—who is the parasite, and who is the host? In a modern-day capitalist society, is it truly possible for a system to exist in which the benefits of one can be derived without the taking from another? These are just two of several questions posed by this thought-provoking film.
Joon-Ho is no stranger to offering social commentary and critique. His previous work, such as Okja (2017) and Snowpiercer (2013), tackles subjects such as corporate ethics and climate change, using massive animals and post-apocalyptic trains as vehicles for his message. This time around, however, the lines between the villains and the heroes are blurred. The “good guys” are capable of committing unfathomable, and often comical, acts of dishonesty and deception, whereas the “bad guys” are, at times, so vapid that they simply seem too stupid to have any capacity for evil. Who, exactly, are the characters that the audience should root for?
It is this evolving, ever-changing dynamic between the last name-less, lower class family and the elite, excessively wealthy Park family (who employs the former) that makes this film so special. We as viewers naturally feel drawn to the family of unemployed hustlers and sympathize with their efforts to make a quick buck out of their basement flat in the slums of South Korea. When we’re introduced to the grandiose, pristine estate of the upper-class Park family, we instinctively feel some form of animosity towards them, since they are able to live in such splendor while the other family is forced to make do with so little.
From the get-go, Joon-Ho creates a world in which we are hopeful for the underdogs while we view those at the top with distaste, despite the motivations of either party. Sure, those at the bottom of the food chain may achieve their goals through unethical means, but we’re able to look past that, simply because they seem more deserving of a shining outcome. It is only when these roles begin to converge and bleed into one another that we are forced to consider that perhaps both sides are equally involved in a parasitic relationship. There is a possibility that both entities will feed upon the other until they are both sucked dry.
Parasite is a unique piece of work that never remains confined to just one genre—what starts out as a comedy evolves into an unpredictable drama/thriller that turns the conventional notion of a home-invasion film on its head. Although it takes place in South Korea and touches on the country’s conflict with their neighbors to the North, its examination of classism and the consequences of unequal wealth distribution can easily be applied to current-day American society. This film will stick with you long after the end credits roll and remain under your skin, much like its title implies.
