“Deep Trap” Theatrical Poster
Director: Kwon Hyung-Jin
Cast: Ma Dong-Seok, Jo Han-Sun, Kim Min-Kyung, Ji An, Yoon Joo, Kwon Bum-Taek, Kim Dong-Hyun, Min Kyung-Jin, Jeong Gi-Seop, Kang Seung-Wan
Running Time: 96 min.
By Paul Bramhall
In the Korean film industry the mid-budget genre piece has become increasingly rare in recent years, with the international success of 2019’s Parasite and the 2021 Netflix series Squid Game seemingly widening the gap when it comes to production budgets. These days the biggest budgets tend to go to the most mainstream productions with potential crossover appeal, while smaller budgeted indie productions increasingly focus on hard edged tales of social woe and gritty realism. The result is that we no longer see as many modestly budgeted genre pieces like 2015’s Deep Trap, which is a shame as the creative talent behind them are surely still there.
In the case of Deep Trap the talent in the director’s chair is Kwon Hyeong-jin, and the production would mark his final time (as of the time of writing) to direct a full-length feature since his debut with My Piano in 2006. In between he’d helm the 2008 thriller Truck, swiftly followed by the drama Wedding Dress in 2010, marking his filmography as that of a reliable journeyman director that could be banked on to create entertaining slices of mid-budget cinema regardless of genre.
Made in a year when Korea was particularly fond of ‘Trap’ themed titles (the other 2 being erotic thrillers in the form of The Trap and Trap: Lethal Temptation), in Deep Trap we’re introduced to a couple played by Jo Han-sun (A Better Tomorrow, Cruel Winter Blues) and Kim Min-kyung (The Assassin, Miss and Mrs. Cops). After suffering a miscarriage they’ve grown distant, with Han-sun in particular hamstrung by the fact that he’s become impotent since, a condition which sees him at a loss as to how he can make his wife happy again. After he returns home completely wasted one night, Min-kyung decides that they should take a trip to get away from it all for a day, and books a restaurant on a rural island off the coast for some much-needed couple time.
For those with even just a passing familiarity with Korean thrillers, it should come as no surprise that a couple heading into the countryside for a getaway from the city usually never ends well, perhaps no better example being the grimy 2001 horror Say Yes. Deep Trap isn’t going to do anything innovative that strays from the tried and tested formula, so in that sense it becomes more about how effectively it pulls off its well-worn genre tropes, and keep the audience on the edge of its seat. Thankfully Hyeong-jin knows how to put an economical narrative together, with the whole miscarriage setup played out even before the title has appeared onscreen, avoiding any risk of getting bogged down in melodrama and enabling the plot to get straight down to business. The fact that the whole thing is wrapped up in a tight 96-minute package (never something that should be taken for granted with Korean movies) is a welcome bonus.
The restaurant expectedly ends up being somewhat off the beaten track, and turns out to be little more than a small outdoor seating area attached to a ramshackle dwelling populated by chickens and cats that roam around freely. The couple are met by the sight of the burly owner, played by Ma Dong-seok (The Roundup, Derailed), verbally abusing and pushing around who we assume to be his timid wife, played by Ji An (Serve the People, Coffee Mates), who’s also mute. While their instincts understandably tell them to leave, once Dong-seok catches sight of them and enthusiastically invites them to take a seat, Ma Dong-seok looking like Ma Dong-seok, it’s difficult to say no.
What’s perhaps most interesting on viewing Deep Trap in 2023, its that it’s a movie sold on the presence of Ma Dong-seok before he was a bankable star. Made between his grittiest role in Kim Ki-duk’s 2015 thriller One on One, and his 2016 breakout as the zombie bashing husband in 2016’s Train to Busan, Dong-seok is that rare star who already had a considerable filmography to his name by the time he’d breakout. His popularity in recent years has given him the freedom to play the roles he’s most comfortable with, and by his own admission enjoys – characters that utilise his built like a brick wall exterior, but at the same display an almost goofy charm along with a keen sense of comic timing. In that sense, for anyone who wishes he’d take on more darker roles, there’s a strong possibility that he already did, the secret is to look prior to 2016.
Dong-seok famously mentioned in press conferences for Deep Trap that he had a difficult time getting into the characters mindset since it involved a lot of violence, both visceral and sexual, however onscreen he does a stellar job of creating a sense of intimidation and unpredictability. The most disturbing aspect of his character is the balance the narrative strikes between revealing his motivations, and playing with the audience’s assumptions of how far he’d be willing to go in achieving them. Conveying an unsettling mix of warm friendliness and off-colour jokes, Dong-seok creates a character whose violence seems inherent and almost unavoidable, seemingly unaware of the morally reprehensible aspect of his actions.
Before that though, for the most part Hyeong-jin keeps the tension on a slow burn, gradually introducing a level of discomfort through small details that build up a sense of foreboding. Han-sun and Min-kyung are told they can choose the chicken to have their chicken soup made with, which then has its throat slit in front of them, and the scene involving a jar of centipede wine isn’t one that’s likely to be forgotten easily. By the time they’re ready to head back and find their car won’t start, Han-sun is just inebriated enough to think Dong-seok’s offer of staying there for the night until the garage opens the following day is a perfectly good idea, which is when Deep Trap begins to lean into its genre trappings (pun intended).
Except for a few minor supporting characters, Hyeong-jin primarily allows the 4 key players to carry the narrative, and Ji An is arguably the scene stealer of the quartet. With zero dialogue to work with, her role as a mute is shrouded in mystery. Why can’t she speak? Is she a former victim that Dong-seok has enslaved? Why hasn’t she tried to escape? These are all questions that get answered, some of them in surprising ways, giving Deep Trap’s plot some welcome layers beyond the basic “city couple run afoul of unhinged small-town psycho” trope. An’s role is ultimately pivotal to the direction that Deep Trap finds itself heading in, and ironically results in more nudity that both of the previously mentioned erotic thrillers, even if not all of it is of the pleasant variety.
That direction also eventually sees the red stuff start flowing thanks to blunt force trauma to the head, something that no Korean thriller of the mid-2010’s seemed to be complete without, and the finale plays out in predictable fashion. That’s not necessarily a negative, as there’s only so many ways a couple on a remote island can stand a chance of escaping, and if you’re going to have someone chasing you through the woods with an axe, it’s hard to think of that someone being anyone other than Ma Dong-seok in terms of the tension factor.
If you find yourself craving for a more straight-up slice of horror, one that doesn’t involve any deep exploration of trauma or commentary on the state of society (not that there’s anything wrong with those), then Deep Trap comes with an easy recommendation. It’s not out to reinvent the wheel, but it does what it sets out to do effectively, crafting a lean and mean tale that essentially boils down to a guy just wanting to fix his erectile disfunction. Perhaps next time he’ll just order some Viagra.
Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 6.5/10
