“Exit” Korean Theatrical Poster
Director: Lee Sang-Geun
Cast: Cho Jung-Seok, Yoona, Ko Du-Shim, Park In-Hwan, im Ji-Young, Hwang Hyo-Eun, Lee Bong-Ryun, Bae Yoo-Ram, Yoo Su-Bin, Kim Kang-Hoon, Lee Dong-Hwi
Running Time: 103 min.
By Paul Bramhall
Much like every other film industry in the world, South Korea may not check-in to the disaster genre that frequently, but when it does it tends to go all out. Whether it be big blockbuster FX showcases such as Hauendae and The Tower, overwrought melodrama’s like The Flu and Deranged, or topical thrillers that tap into the fear of nuclear fallout like Pandora, there’s a certain unspoken checklist that needs to be ticked off each time. Top of the list are usually an ensemble cast, the requirement for each member of said cast to give their tear ducts a workout at some point, and likewise for their ability to scream or shout at the top of their lungs.
Korea’s fondness for melodrama tends to make their disaster flicks a love them or hate them affair, as the emotions on show are usually expected to match the spectacle of whatever the disaster is in question. That is, over the top, loud, and not always entirely believable. Which brings us to 2019, and debut director Lee Sang-geun has opted for the disaster genre as his calling card. The simply titled Exit goes for a different approach than what we’ve seen with Korea’s previous disaster movies though, in that it frames its disastrous events through the lens of being a comedy. It’s always a challenge to put a new spin on a genre that’s full of established (and I daresay expected) tropes, so I was curious to see what Sang-geun had up his sleeve.
Exit casts Jo Jung-suk (The Drug King) as a 30-something unemployed loser who still lives at home with his parents. Beaten down by a steady flow of rejections for jobs he’s applied for, a nagging sister, and being turned down for a date by his indoor rock climbing club crush, the world seems to be conspiring against him, and to make matters worse he needs to attend his mother’s 70th birthday celebration. The celebration takes place in the uniquely Korean setting of a celebratory hall. Korea is full of these purpose-built venues, which usually come with glorified names referring to themselves as castles and alike, and are essentially buildings comprised of numerous large rooms to host celebrations in. It’s revealed that it was Jung-suk that chose this particular venue, and it becomes clear why when it turns out his crush from the rock climbing club is working there, played by Im Yoona (Confidential Assignment).
Unfortunately the celebration is interrupted, when the disgruntled employee of a chemical company parks a tanker full of toxic gas directly in front of the hall, and releases it into the air. The gas kills anyone who it comes into contact with, causing a whole business district in Seoul to scramble to the rooftops, including Jung-suk, his family, and Yoona. Thankfully the government deploys rescue helicopters to start airlifting the stranded groups, but by the time one reaches the venue it quickly reaches capacity, leaving Jung-suk and Yoona to fend for themselves. If Exit was any other genre, the direness of the situation would no doubt be the trigger for some overbearing histrionics. However this is a comedy, so instead it becomes an entertaining vertical chase flick, as Jung-suk and Yoona call upon their rock climbing skills to keep one step ahead of the slowly rising gas, while at the same attempting to figure out an escape plan.
It’s fair to say that never has such a niche hobby as indoor rock climbing been given its time to shine like it has here, but likewise, the way Sang-geun turns Seoul’s 4D cityscape into a vertical game of life and death is a joy to watch. Neon 3D signage, a huge crab attached to the side of a building, and random design elements that are there for no other reason than the architect probably thought they looked cool, are all incorporated into the pair’s efforts to avoid the ever rising gas. While these scenes suitably crank up the levels of tension, Sang-geun extracts the biggest laughs out of the smaller, more relatable details that we rarely think about, but somehow all know. Jung-suk and Yoona come across a ridiculous amount of locked rooftop doors, and after heroically clambering up several flights of stairs, to constantly fall down at the last hurdle because the door to the rooftop is locked becomes a source of frequent amusement.
The same issue also happens to be the main contributor to Exit’s most entertaining scenes, as it means our two leads constantly have to think on their feet and problem solve as to how they’ll get higher with a limited number of options. Sang-geun shows a distinct understanding that the real entertainment in watching a disaster movie comes from watching characters figure out how they’re going to save themselves, more so than the disaster itself, and Exit smartly uses it moderate budget on the process rather than the spectacle. Over the course of the runtime drones, exercise equipment, and even the ventilation fans in a Korean BBQ restaurant all factor in to either help or hinder Jung-suk and Yoona on their mission to avoid the gas.
It’s arguably Exit’s dedication to its concept which is its biggest strength. Sang-geun has created a lean little disaster movie, clocking in at just 100 minutes (a Korean movie under 2 hours, it’s a miracle!), and it never strays from its core concept. There’s no villainous corporate bad guy making morally dubious decisions behind the scenes, there’s no tragic backstories told in flashback, and there’s not even any time for a budding romance to blossom. This is just two likeable characters, attempting to stay one step ahead of a slowly rising poisonous gas cloud, and the fact that no fat is attached to the narrative makes its brisk pace and good intentions easy to digest. We don’t even spend that much time on why the employee who released the gas was so disgruntled, he’s simply a plot device to kick-start the fun, and Sang-geun seems to realise that it’s not important for the audience to know every last detail.
Ironically the movie which kept on springing to mind while watching Exit, was Ryu Seung-wan’s 2008 production Dachimawa Lee, which was a riotous send-up of the tough guy action flicks that used to dominate 70’s Korean cinema. As it turns out, Sang-geun was an assistant director on that very movie, which explains a lot, as both the tone and look of Exit call to mind Seung-wan’s more light-hearted work.
Also like Seung-wan, Sang-geun proves here that he knows how to work to actors strengths. Jung-suk made a strong impression with his break-out role in 2012’s Architecture 101, which was followed by an equally strong turn acting alongside Song Kang-ho in The Face Reader the following year. Lately though his role choices have been underwhelming, with forgettable turns in the likes of Time Renegades and Hit-and-Run Squad. His role in Exit plays to his strengths, and there’s a likeable chemistry shared with former Girls Generation member Im Yoona, who’s limited range is also utilised well.
If anything, the only real barrier to Exit being successful internationally is just how uniquely Korean it is. There are several distinctly Korean elements incorporated into the narrative, from throwaway details such as Jung-suk’s sister visiting their parents purely to pick up some kimchi, to more significant details like his race to get to a train station so he can access more gas masks. It’s perhaps a little known fact outside of Korea, but all of the train station platforms in Seoul come equipped with a cupboard containing gas masks, in the event that North Korea should ever attack (in which case train stations also double up as bomb shelters). It struck me while I was watching, that had I never visited Korea myself, I’d probably have no clue as to why he was so eager to get to an abandoned train station.
As entertaining as Exit is, there’s also no doubt that it’s a slight effort, with no higher ambitions other than to entertain for the 100 minutes that it’s onscreen. Whether you’ll remember it the next day is debatable. However what can’t be denied is that Sang-geun has shown a talent for breathing new life into a well-worn genre, and done so in such a way that makes it feel unique and fresh. If there was ever such a thing as an urban comedic take on Cliffhanger, then this could well be it, and that’s as decent a hook to sell a move on as any. Resisting any temptation to deviate from its purpose to create a few laughs and thrills along the way, Exit may feature a frustrating number of locked doors, but hopefully it’ll open a few for Sang-geun.
Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 6/10
