“Alienoid” Theatrical Poster
Director: Choi Dong-hun
Cast: Ryoo Joon-Yeol, Kim Woo-Bin, Kim Tae-Ri, So Ji-Sub, Yum Jung-Ah, Jo Woo-Jin, Shin Jung-Keun, Lee Si-Hoon, Choi Yoo-Ri, Kim Eui-Sung, Lee Ha-Nee
Running Time: 142 min.
By Paul Bramhall
It’s been 18 years since director Choi Dong-hoon made his debut in 2004 with the entertaining caper flick The Big Swindle, a movie which announced the arrival of arguably Korea’s most entertaining commercial director. For rest of the mid-2000’s to mid-2010’s Dong-hoon would release hit after hit in 3-year intervals – Tazza: The High Rollers arrived in 2006, Jeon Woo Chi: The Taoist Wizard landed in 2009, The Thieves came in 2012, and in 2015 we got Assassination. However for the last 7 years Dong-hoon has been missing in action. During that time a Korean movie swept the Oscars in the form of Parasite, a Korean series became the most popular title on Netflix in the form of Squid Game, and titles like Train to Busan have become as mainstream as any Hollywood production. It’s not entirely unreasonable to ask if Dong-hoon’s distinct style of big budget filmmaking still has a place in the Korean cinematic landscape of today?
In 2022 that question is attempted to be answered in the form of Alienoid, a sprawling 140+ minute epic that takes the Along With the Gods approach and splits its story into 2 parts (the direct translation of the Korean title is Alien + Human Part 1), the 2nd part of which will hit screens in 2023. Depending on who’s explaining it, the plot could probably sound like a slice of pure sci-fi pulp, or a piece of high concept cinema. Either way, there are plot holes, but let’s see how my attempt ends up coming off. An alien cyborg played by Kim Woo-bin (here marking his first big screen appearance since 2016’s Master due to successfully battling nasopharyngeal cancer) and his floating robotic friend Thunder (who can also appear as a humanoid – also played by Woo-bin) have a unique prison system for their planets heinous offenders – their essence is implanted into the human brain.
The humans never know they have an alien criminal stuck in their brains, and when they die, so does the alien. Why don’t they just kill the alien offender to begin with rather than going to the trouble of travelling across space and time to implant them in human brains you may ask? I wish I knew. A dagger with the ability to heal wounds (explained in a completely non-ironic way) and alter time is also thrown in the mix, which sees Woo-bin and co. travelling between present day Seoul and 700 years ago, all in the name of capturing a particularly powerful alien who’s broken free of their human prison. In the present a police officer played by So Ji-sub (The Battleship Island, Rough Cut) finds himself under the control of other worldly beings, and in the past Kim Eui-sung (Special Delivery, Rampant) suffers a similar fate. Can they be stopped before Earth is overrun by criminal alien scum? Does any of this make any sense?
Despite the convoluted nature of the previous couple of paragraphs, the answer to the latter question is actually yes, for the most part it does. To some degree there’s almost 2 separate movies to be enjoyed here – in the present we get suited up cyborgs going toe to toe against aliens in elevators, spaceships tearing up the streets of Seoul, and an elementary school aged girl who Woo-bin and Thunder are attempting to raise (having saved her as a baby 700 years in the past). In the past we get Ryu Jun-yeol (Believer, Heart Blackened) as a trainee wizard and Kim Tae-ri (Space Sweepers, The Handmaiden) as a pistol wielding woman on a mission trying to remember how they know each other, a pair of powerful Taoist styled ‘sorcerers’ (clearly being played with relish by Jo Woo-jin – Seobok, Steel Rain and Yum Jung-ah – Another Child, The Mimic), and liberal doses of wire-fu.
The influence of Hong Kong cinema’s heyday has always been present in Dong-hoon’s work, from the God of Gamblers-esque Tazza: The High Rollers, to bombastically recreating the abseiling down the side of a building shootout from Time and Tide in The Thieves (which itself featured the legendary Simon Yam), to the heroic bloodshed of Assassination. While there’s no denying that Alienoid is fundamentally a sci-fi flick, here the time travelling aspect basically allows Dong-hoon to use the scenes set in the past to recreate the kind of wire-fu wuxia that Hong Kong was churning out by the dozen in the early 90’s. Thanks to the martial arts direction of Yoo Sang-seob (Spare, Fist and Furious) there’s an energy and impact to the action scenes that recalls Korea’s brief flirtation with wire-fu flicks in the mid-2000’s (think productions like Shadowless Sword).
It’s thanks to both the action and the humor that, no matter how unwieldy the narrative threatens to become, when you see Kim Tae-ri channel her inner Chow Yun Fat, sliding on her knees to duck a tentacled alien lunging towards her while pumping it full of bullets in slow motion, everything feels ok with the world. Part of what makes watching Alienoid such a pleasure is spotting all the little Hong Kong homages thrown into the mix, often in the most unlikely of places. I think this may be the first time to witness the return of cat kung fu to the screen since Jackie Chan busted it out in 1978’s Snake in the Eagles Shadow, and there’s a hilarious visual gag that’s a clear homage to the giant boot seen in the 1982 Shaw Brothers movie Buddha’s Palm.
Despite the different tone of the events which unfold in the respective time periods, Dong-hoon’s script does an admirable job of bringing both narratives together in a cohesive way, allowing for a satisfying payoff (even with the expected cliff-hanger ending). Working with frequent scriptwriter Lee Gi-cheol (they both also penned The Thieves and Assassination together), even with the headstrong pace and bombast of everything, there’s a lot of smart foreshadowing at play which gradually reveals characters connections to each other across the 2 periods. A similar technique was used in Along With the Gods: The Last 49 Days, however unlike the way there the 2 timelines showed the past to explain the present, here both timelines have consequences that impact the events in the present, giving a welcome sense of immediacy.
The most joyous element of Alienoid though, which will most likely be felt by those who found their way to Korean cinema during the early 2000’s Korean Wave, is the way it harkens back to a time when mixing up several genres in a single movie to create something which feels fresh (even if not necessarily original) was the norm. Dong-hoon recaptures that feeling here, adopting an everything and the kitchen sink (and perhaps even more) approach that won’t be for everyone. In an era where Korean cinema has become much more by the book than it once was, it’s refreshing to see such a commercially mainstream movie that isn’t afraid to show that yes, it may be influenced by Hollywood productions, but it’s not trying to be a Hollywood production. No matter how many spaceships, tentacles, or obliterated buildings appear onscreen, Alienoid doesn’t ever feel like you’re not watching a Korean movie.
If any criticism could be pointed in its direction, apart from the aforementioned plot holes, then it’s that the design of the aliens themselves isn’t particularly creative. These are the fairly standard design grey bodied lanky figures we’ve become accustomed to throughout the years, and similarly their human hosts ability to spurt tentacles out of their back feels a little too clean and unimaginative compared to what could have been done. However when you have kung fu fights involving fists the size of buildings, wife-fu infused rooftop chase scenes, and an alien being locked in a giant kimchi pot via plastering it with hopping vampire-esque yellow paper talismans, these flaws feel entirely forgivable.
While audiences’ enjoyment of Alienoid will most likely vary depending on how tuned in they are to Dong-hoon’s sensibilities, and of course willingness to come back for a 2nd round next year, chances are if you enjoyed his previous work (in particular, Jeon Woo Chi: The Taoist Wizard), then there’ll be a lot to enjoy here. If it’s your first experience of Dong-hoon, then sit back and enjoy the ride, it could well be one that you won’t regret taking. As to if his distinct style of big budget filmmaking still has a place in the Korean cinematic landscape of today? For this reviewer at least, it’s a resounding yes.
Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 8/10
