Prior to widespread acknowledgment, he was a predator who would become a symbol of an insidious component within the entertainment industry; Harvey Weinstein wielded power to such a degree that Bong Joon Ho, Oscar-winning director ofParasite, once felt he had to verbally “play nice.”
In 2014, when talking withAlex Suskind of IndieWire, Suskind asked Bong whether he would work with Mr. Weinstein again; Bong replied, “Of course. Even from when I was young, I admired the films that he produced and released, like Pulp Fiction and recently The Master. So if there was ever a chance for a story to come up, I would jump at the chance.”
In 2019, after Weinstein’s arrest, Bong’s tone towards working with Weinstein on Snowpiercershifted dramatically: “‘It was a doomed encounter,’” Bong said. ‘I’m someone who until that point had only ever released the ‘director’s cut’ of my films. I’ve never done an edit I didn’t want to do. Weinstein’s nickname is ‘Harvey Scissorhands’.”
Weinstein wanted to achieve two things with his proposed edits toSnowpiercer: avoid ambiguity for an American audience, and cut the runtime of the film, presumably to help that audience. According toDon Groves, The Weinstein Company (TWC) “told Bong that their aim is to make sure the film ‘understood by audiences in Iowa… and Oklahoma',” which they felt could be achieved by adding voice-overs to the beginning and ending of the film.
A narrator could explain what brought about the world ofSnowpiercer, where the earth is a frozen hellscape with humanity’s remnants aboard a train divided by social class. Then, a narrator could explain away the ambiguities of the film’s end, where two people emerge from the train to see a polar bear in the distance.
Will they survive? Will humanity be renewed, sans class systems? Will the bear stifle that Marxist dream?
Apparently, Weinstein did not think we could handle those questions.Grovesreported that Bong was asked to “slash the running time by 20 minutes for the version to be released in TWC’s territories.”
Bong won the battle, but at the cost of having his film released on a smaller scale. What if he hadn’t? What if Weinstein won?
If Weinstein Had Succeeded In Reducing Runtime And Ambiguity, Let’s Consider How That Might Have Affected Bong’s Approach ToParasite
Let’s imagine Weinstein’s version ofSnowpiercersucceeds, and we have an alternate reality where Bong adopts a Weinsteinian aesthetic theory of cinema. Doing so amplifies an appreciation ofParasite’s implications.
Let’s pretend Bong is makingParasite, looks back fondly on the advice Weinstein gave him, and says to himself, “You know what? I won’t make the same mistake twice; the polar bear was too ambiguous, so I’m going to ensure the end ofParasiteis crystal clear by having a voiceover, but there’ll be absolutelynoimagery that could be misconstrued.”
In the final scenes of the movie, as is, Ki-woodoesprovide a voiceover, but the ending is still ambiguous. In a seemingly optimistic ending, Ki-woo narrates, “Today I made a plan,” telling his father in a letter that “I’m going to earn some money.” At the same time that he says this, he places the scholar’s rock, or landscape rock, into water. The rock, Min explains at the beginning of the movie, brings wealth to families. Earlier, when their basement-house is flooding, the rock magically springs up from the water, causing Ki-woo to say it’s “following me.”
This moment of magical realism, of a rock floating to the surface, ledTrending News Buzzto explain that, because the rock floats, “this seemingly important stone is shown to be an artificial re-creation of rock, one with a hollow and empty interior,” and that “Ki-woo and his family’s dream of social mobility… is similarly as hollow as the Scholar’s Stone. In the societal structure of the world ofParasite, the only way to move upward is to engage in an extended act of pretending. Also, by hurting other people who are struggling financially (chiefly the former workers for the Park family).” That’s mostly right, but what about the end of the movie?
At the end of the movie, the rock stays submerged. Is the dream no longer hollow?
Water, for psychologist and Freudian apostate Carl Jung, is a symbol of the unconscious, and of things left disorganized. Jung studied artwork by his patients and would read motifs in their art as symbols of their mental health. Given that Ki-woo’s sister is named Ki-jung (Jung!) and draws Kyo’s attention to a black mass that reoccurs at the bottom of two of Da-song’s artworks, thus implying he’s repressing some trauma, it’s hard to not see some artistic intent.
So, if Ki-woo places the rock that will magically draw wealth to him in water, we can optimistically read this as repressing the desire for wealth to magically appear; he’s embracing the adage of “pulling himself up by his bootstraps.” This movie moves us to pity and understanding of the desperation that causes this desire, while also acknowledging that, yes, there are legal means of socially climbing, but that this climb is disproportionately more difficult for many. With four mouths to feed, the shortcut sounds reasonable.
Less optimistically, Jung explains that just because we repress something, or place it in water, doesn’t mean it no longer holds power over us. It now probably has more power, because it’s unacknowledged. Most of us likely hold the wish to win the lottery, making our lotto tickets into metaphorical scholar’s rocks. If we repress this shared wish, if we keep it submerged, we miss discussing the very system that results in the wish.
We don’t need millions; we just need to not be completely wrecked by a flood, like the Kims are, and the Parks aren’t. If Rose had room for Jack on that plank in the movieTitanic, the Parks had room in that house for the Kims.
Even less optimistically, it’s never answered whether Ki-woo actually achieves his vision of his future self, wealth and father secured. Given the movie’s indication of how difficult it is to climb upward, it’s hard to believe that he does.
In Weinstein’s version, ambiguity is gone. We wouldn’t examine the system. Voiceovers that diminish ambiguity diminish the audience’s workload, thereby diminishing the quality of the conversations to be had in the appreciation of art; if the only determiner is financial profit off an audience, then why stop there? Let’s cut some dialogue with “Harvey Scissorhands.”
In RewatchingSnowpiercerandParasite, The Dialogue You Could Cut, Yet Still Have A Comprehensible Movie, Presents Three Traits
In rewatchingSnowpiercerandParasite, the dialogue you could cut, yet still have a comprehensible movie, presents three traits: it doesn’t drive the plot forward, doesn’t reveal character motives, or doesn’t clearly build suspense. If you remove the scenes with these traits, a subtle facet of Bong’s work becomes highlighted: in both films, adults can’t stop talking about children. Ironically, Bong’s movies are kids movies, in the sense that they both explore the education of children; if Bong follows Weinstein’s artistic theory in the creation ofParasite, this thematic arc is significantly drained.
In the first instance of cuttable dialogue, Chung-sook (Ki-woo and Ki-jung’s mom) praises Min’s “vigor” for confronting the drunken public urinator, establishing Min as a foil to highlight Ki-woo’s apparent lack of vigor. We then get Ki-woo and Min’s dialogue that leads to Ki-woo’s tutoring job, and most of it could be cut. In this cuttable portion of dialogue, Min doesn’t see Ki-woo as a threat to his chances with Da-hye; he knows his friend lacks vigor. Ki-woo’s dialogue during his first tutoring session with Da-hye promotes vigor when test-taking; he’s promoting what he sees as the source of his inability to pass the exam. InParasite, children above the line, the economic divide, are educated to have vigor; none of this dialogue advances the plot, nor does it build suspense or reveal motive. Weinstein might've cut it for time.
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Then we get to the true subject of the majority of the film: Da-song, the bratty son. The majority of the dialogue in this movie revolves around Da-song, and the complications of the final act are largely induced by this kid. It’s kind of his movie, which is fitting because he’s taught that it’s kind of his world.
When Ki-woo first meets Da-song, he’s playing as an Indian. Kyo and Ki-woo then spend several minutes discussing Da-song, concentrating on how hard he is “to control.” He’s rude and violent, but the mom does nothing. There’s an education happening here: his family has commodified, and he’s stereotyped, a group of people, Indians, and he’s acting out his stereotyped understanding of Indians; he’s violent and indifferent to his mother’s requests. For Da-song, types of violence and Othering are normalized: violence is okay when it’s “dress up,” and you can Other a group as long as it’s play. You could just show Da-song being difficult to control, but the dialogue, the diction of “control,” works ironically with the absence of any real attempt at control. Weinstein might cut it for time.
To “Fall” Is To Be Aware Of Division, Of Distance From The Desirable, Which Can Be God, Or Capital, Or God As Capital
When Ki-jung (Jung!) is introduced to Da-song, she points out the shadowy figure in his paintings as indications of repressed trauma, like a good Jungian should. So this child, who has so much said about him, is dressed as an Indian and he’s being “analyzed” by Ki-jung. For Carl Jung, children symbolize someone close to individuation, someone who has confronted their repressions and has almost achieved their best self. This Jungian concept works ironically with our discomfort at his “dressing up” as an Indian, his obstinance, and the prevailing permissiveness that functions as his education, all to suggest that Da-song’s obstinance is a product of his education.Parasiteis about the education of the youth, and their “fall” upward or downward into divisions of class consciousness. In Milton’sParadise Lost, one available idea is that to “fall” is to be aware of division, of distance from the desirable, which can be god, or capital, or god as capital. Bong seems to explore these notions in modernized terms.
Were a Weinsteinian influence to cut the above scenes, which do little to advance the plot towards its climax, we’d diminish the thematic significance of Mr. Park (Dong Ik) and Mrs. Park’s dialogue about their former driver’s supposed sex act in the back of the Benz:
Kyo: I didn’t know he was this kind of guy.
Ik: Did you pay him well?
The implied education Ik has received is that to have money is to have morals; to lack one is to lack the other. Those below the socioeconomic line are expected to be immoral. If this is Ik’s view, it’s going to be part of his son’s education, as Ik is his son’s enabler.
Ik then asks, “Why not in his seat? Why [did the driver] cross the line like that?” There’s no need for this dialogue other than to establish that Ik sees figures divided from him financially as incompatible with his physical space. Ik tells his wife that, when firing the driver, “there’s no need to mention panties or car sex. We don’t need to stoop to that level.” For Ik, discussing the body or intimacy with someone from the working class is “stooping,” or lowering himself, or falling. In a consciousness of divisions, “up” is associated with “good,” so financially “up” is implicitly morally good, allowing the Parks to traduce their driver with suppositions, and not allowing the driver to defend himself because that would lower the Parks. Weinstein might cut it for time.
This ability to accuse and dismiss without trial, along with the moral implications of social class, are likely features of Da-song’s implicit curriculum. This is violence: it’s not like the violence of using a lie to encourage firing a driver, or using a severe allergy to remove the housekeeper, but it is violent to remove two people from the source of their food and shelter without a chance to defend themselves. It’smoreviolent, in the sense that there’s no system to regulate it, whereas there is a system in place to regulate the actions of the Kims. Weinstein might cut these lines, and the corresponding ideas, for time.
We’d then lose the contrasting idea that Da-song is taught that he has a long leash, and can do what he wants, whereas Ki-woo has been taught that, to succeed, he has to deceive, a contrast revealed through cuttable dialogue. When Ki-taek informs Kyo that her housekeeper, Moon-gwang, has tuberculosis, we cut back and forth to Ki-woo educating his father, like a director guiding his actor, on how to pull off the chicanery. Weinstein would say you don’t need this dialogue between father and son, as you could just have the act of deception itself.
In contrast, Kyo’s series of instructions for Chung-sook culminate in the observation that the dog, Zoonie, should be allowed a longer leash, as he “needs to run around to feel happy… he’s like the canine version of Da-song.” Yes, Da-song just got compared to a dog by his mom, but he’s also being taught that acting like a brat works for him, that it gets him what he wants without having to be subtle.
It’s this same entitlement that elicits a disdainful laugh in response to Ki-taek’s question regarding whether Ik loves his wife. AsEntertainment Insider points out, Bong uses panning shots to signal characters breaking, or crossing, lines. When Ki-taek asks the question, the camera swerves, rather than cuts, to Ik. It’s a question of intimacy, and for Ik, that’s crossing the line. Again, the education he has internalized, and that his son will likely receive, is that “we” do not share physical or emotional spaces with “them.” Ki-taek’s willingness to cross the line implies either defiance or ignorance regarding this education.
InSnowpiercer, Children Signal Hope; InParasite, Ki-taek Educates His Child To Abandon That Hope; In Literature, Exploring The Concept Of Hell, To Abandon Hope Is To Enter Hell
It’s likely ignorance, as he had to be taught how to deceive by his son, and he once had the money to attempt starting two businesses. He hasn’t been properly educated, butParasiteis also about his fall/education into class consciousness, as he develops the notion that he ought to abandon making plans, that he ought to abandon hope. InSnowpiercer, children signal hope; inParasite, Ki-taek educates his child to abandon that hope. In literature exploring the concept of hell, to abandon hope is to enter hell.
In Milton’sParadise Lost, the fallen angels that followed Satan to hell sing the praises of Satan.Entertainment Insiderhighlights how, in bothSnowpiercerandParasite, those living in poverty either areaskedto engage or willfully engage, in worshipping a capitalist. InSnowpiercer, Tilda Swinton repeatedly enjoins the poor to respect the sacred engine and the divine Wilford, and the wealthy children engage in a call-and-response act of worship of that pair. InParasite, Oh Guen-sae, the housekeeper’s husband, explains via a dialogue with Ki-taek that he lights Mr. Park’s way home each day. He also shouts “Respect!” at Ik, despite, you know, dying at the time. Ki-taek, sitting at dinner with his family having achieved gainful employment, tells his family, “Let’s offer a prayer of tribute to the great Mr. Park.” This adoration parallels the reverence of Mr. Wilford, seen as a god because of his dispensation of capital.
In both films, the owners of capital are worshipped. Wilford sacrifices the children of the poor so that the system can continue; Mr. Park accuses and disposes without trial, says “let’s call it love,” when asked if he loves his wife, and gets to decide where the “line” is in all of the interactions we see on screen; this “line” is constructed by his capital, a company called “Another Brick,” perhaps playing on the idea that bricks are material we build divisions, or lines, out of. If we lose these verbal exchanges for time’s sake, we lose the thematic implications.
Near the end of the film, Ik decides Ki-taek has crossed the line when indicating displeasure with having to dress up as an Indian for Da-song’s entertainment. We don’t need this dialogue, as we’ve already seen that Ik has offended Ki-taek with comments about his smell, which later incites Ki-taek’s violence. With Ik stating that “You’re getting paid extra. Think of this as part of your job, okay?” we see that the job description, and thus criteria for job performance, can change on a whim. In the world ofParasite, job security and survival are always precarious, subject to the arbitration of the possessor of capital, so Ik is god-like; capitalism is presented as a form of idolatry, as it makes gods of those at the top.
In both movies, both figures operate in a system where they can lift those beneath them out of squalor, choose not to, yet are worshipped. The film seems to suggest that this is satanic; if that’s so, then the education depicted is also satanic insofar as it maintains the system.
Ki-taek’s education teaches him that kindness and wealth seldom go together: “[Mrs. Park] is rich, but still nice.” His wife then corrects him: “Nice because she’s rich.” Both observations suggest a binary: for Ki-taek, either you have money, or you have kindness; for Chung-sook, either you have wealth and are kind, or you do not, and cannot afford to be kind. Kindness becomes a commodity, a luxury of the rich.
However, an apparent contradiction arises because of cuttable dialogue: if you are kind, that would imply a lack of self-centeredness, yet Ki-woo’s ensuing dialogue with Ki-jung suggests egoism is a key tenet of maintaining wealth. Ki-taek asks about the former driver, Yoon; when Ki-taek feels rich, he acts kindly, remembering the pain they likely caused Yoon. He assures himself that Yoon “must have found a better job.” This is egoism; he is able to lie to himself to protect himself and call himself kind while doing so.
If You Cut Out Dialogue For Time’s Sake, You Lose The Education That We Acquire Via Proximity To, Or Consciousness Of, Wealth And Divisions Related To Wealth
Ki-jung dismisses her father: “worry about us, okay… just focus on us, okay?” prompting Ki-woo to state that “this house suits [Ki-jung]. Not like us.” He intends this as a compliment, yet the juxtaposition suggests that to belong above the economic “line” is to maintain egoism, or to maintain self-centeredness. If you cut out dialogue for time’s sake, you lose the education that we acquire via proximity to, or consciousness of, wealth, and divisions related to wealth.
In addition to knowledge only learned in one sphere, there is knowledge shared above and below the line. Weinstein’s approach would likely cut dialogue where Kyo asks Chung-sook, “It’s ridiculous, right? Running around trying to please a kid;” Chung-sook replies, “He’s the youngest. It’s common.” Despite class differences, both serve to create a world where Da-song is allowed to do what he wants. Contrast this with Mr. Park commanding his daughter, “Stop using your phone. Go to bed,” simultaneous with Da-song ignoring his parents’ requests and sleeping outside in a tent during a storm. The education of Da-song is permissive; the world exists for him.
Kyo and Chung-sook’s dialogue continues: Da-song “saw a ghost in the house when he was in the first grade.” Given our Jungian-Freudian reading, ghosts can represent a return of the repressed. Guen-sae is “repressed” into the basement of Da-song’s mind/house. While you can work hard to climb, the movie repeatedly stresses that to climb, you need money and recommendations to get a start, both of which come from those already above the line. If those above the line are educated to not share the same social and emotional space as those below, it’s much harder to get the recommendation, encouraging the deception and violence the Kim family resorts to; that violence can only be directed at those who share space with you, so those below the line end up hurting one another, and the system doesn’t have to change.
Da-song’s education enables the repression of this line of reasoning; Weinstein’s aesthetics cuts this out for time and clarity. We’d probably still get Mr. Park’s instructions to Mr. Kim, where he states that Jessica/Ki-jung will play the damsel in distress, and Da-song, the “good Indian,” will save her from the “bad Indians.” Given her actions throughout the film, the idea of Ki-jung as a helpless and passive figure is ridiculous, so it’s reasonable to read some commentary on Da-song’s education here: he’s the active male rescuing the passive and helpless female. Whereas Weinstein might keep this dialogue, if we cut some of what precedes it, the thematic implications are lessened.
In 2019, Bong admitted he lied to Weinsteinto keep a sequence inSnowpiercerwhere enemies dip an axe into a fish to coat their weapons in blood. Whenasked about the scene, Bong explained that he “thought it would be appropriate to have a primitive type fight, like an ancient tribe ritually putting blood on their face.” But there’s more to it than that.
When Swinton’s character explains why sushi is only served on the train twice a year, she states, “Balance. You see, this aquarium is a closed ecological system... And the number of individual units must be very closely, precisely controlled, in order to maintain the proper sustainable balance.” She’s discussing fish here, but then Wilford, near the end of the movie, tells Curtis that “We’re all prisoners on this hunk of metal… and this train is a closed ecosystem… We don’t have time for true natural selection… the next best solution is to have individual units kill off other individual units.” The repeated diction of “closed ecosystems” and “individual units” implies that the people below Mr. Park’s/Mr. Wilford’s “line” are the fish; everyone in the system, or on the train, everyone parasitically feeding off of someone else, is caught in the closed ecosystem of capitalism. The trick is educating those below the line to see themselves as subhuman parasites, when insensitivity to one’s surplus at the expense of others is the more parasitic, perhaps more satanic, action. In a closed system, those in shared spaces fight for what’s available. When conscious of the line, their education promotes worshipping at the altar of wealth. An ambiguity-shirking, time-saving aesthetic would strip the movie of the implication that movement into the upper regions may come at the expense of falling further into a blinding egoism.
