“Midnight” Korean Theatrical Poster
Director: Kwon Oh-Seung
Cast: Jin Ki-Joo, Wi Ha-Joon, Park Hoon, Gil Hae-Yeon, Kim Hye-Yoon, Na Eun-Saem, Kim Yoo-Ri, Kang Sang-Won, Lee Sang-Eun, Lim Seung-Min
Running Time: 100 min.
By Paul Bramhall
When looking at landmark movies that came to define Korean cinema in the 21st century, it shouldn’t take too long before Na Hong-jin’s 2008 serial killer thriller The Chaser is brought into the discussion. Sure there had been serial killer thrillers before, notably Bong Joon-ho’s Memories of Murder from 2003, however it was The Chaser’s stripped down ticking clock narrative, pitting a former cop turned pimp versus a hammer wielding prostitute killer, that kick started a wave of similarly themed productions. Few were able to match the power and intensity of Hong-jin’s debut though, and by the time the 2020’s rolled around the Korean serial killer thriller as we’d come to know it had all but disappeared. That is until 2021, when another first-time director in the form of Kwon Oh-seung decided to go the serial killer route for his debut, Midnight.
Midnight sees Wi Ha-joon (Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum, Coin Locker Girl) as a suave psychopath with a penchant for killing women. This fact is established in the opening scene, wherein he does exactly that, luring a lady who’s just wrapped up working in a secluded part of town into his van by offering a lift to the main road. Of course, she never makes it. Things don’t go quite to plan for Ha-joon with his next victim though, a girl who he stabs in the stomach and dumps in a dark alley out of sight. She’s able to muster the strength to throw her shoes into the street in the hope of grabbing someone’s attention, and it proves enough to catch the eye of a passer-by played by Jin Ki-joo (Little Forest, The Land of Happiness). The twist on the standard genre tropes come in the form of Ki-joo’s character being deaf, and when she barely escapes from Ha-joon’s grasp herself, the stage is set for a tense game of cat and mouse.
It’s Ki-joo who becomes Midnight’s central protagonist, and director Oh-seung juggles a number of plot threads to keep the tension mounting. Her mother, played by Gil Hae-yeon (Another Child, The Mimic), is also deaf and ends up as one of Ha-joon’s targets after her suspicions are aroused. The former marine brother of the victim, played by Park Hoon (The Pirates: The Last Royal Treasure, Golden Slumber), enters the fray in desperate search of his sister, with Ki-joo being the last person to see her alive. Together the trio attempt to stay alive, find the victim from the alley, and convince the police that Ha-joon is in fact a murdering psycho.
All of this is wrapped up in a punchy 100-minute runtime, and the pace maintains a frantic energy for much of it as Ki-joo runs, ducks, and throws herself out of windows to dodge whatever sharpened weapon Ha-joon has to hand at the time. The decision to make her character deaf works well, with the disability in itself never defining her at any point, instead being smartly incorporated into the narrative to build a feeling of unease. Scenes such as when Ki-joo is attempting to quietly open a locked door, unaware of just how much noise she’s making, deliver the intended edge of your seat moments, as do the usage of the latest technological aids for the hearing impaired. A sound detection bar, usually used for more day-to-day occurrences like signalling someone at the door, suddenly becomes a way to alert if someone else is in the room, and house lights that go on and off when there’s noise are also used to crank up the tension.
As much as the tension levels are satisfyingly raised through the scenarios that playout onscreen, elsewhere there are alas a number of issues with Midnight. First up is my usual gripe with much of Korea’s serial killer output over the last few years, which is that they’re really isn’t much to Ha-joon in terms of characterisation. He’s a serial killer who likes killing is about as much as we learn about him, and as a result it’s difficult to really hate him when we hardly know a thing about who he is. The very first thing we see him do is lure a victim, so no time is spent on establishing why he’s become a killer, apart from one throwaway comment when he mentions he has no parents. While not having any parents isn’t usually a reason to become a serial killer, there’s a certain Korean conservatism that runs through Midnight, which would suggest it is indeed the reason we’re expected to believe could lead to such character traits.
Another case of this comes in one of the initial scenes where we see Hoon berating his sister for wearing too shorter skirt for a blind date. He insists she be home by 10:00pm, coming across as equal parts overbearing and patronising, as if to say if she stayed out any later she’d end up getting into trouble. The fact that this is exactly what happens feels like Oh-seung is saying women should listen to the men in their lives and obey without question, otherwise, if you get stabbed in the stomach then it’s your own fault for staying out late and showing some skin.
The most jarring example of this though comes when Ha-joon finally has Ki-joo cornered. Up until this point she’s been a strong female character willing to carve her own way and instilled with a fierce sense of independence, and suddenly it’s all thrown out of the window. What should be Ki-joo’s big acting moment, where she gets to deliver a speech convincingly using the inflection of a deaf person, is completely derailed by what she has to say, in which she pitifully muses on how she has to live so that she can find a good man to marry and have two kids. While her plight is likely to resonate slightly more with domestic audiences, I’m sure most who watch Midnight regardless of background would be hoping for Ki-joo to stand her ground, and not turn into a quivering damsel in distress. It’s a cringe worthy moment, and really betrays the character that’s been established.
It would be a crime not to mention the police is Midnight. Whenever police are cast as supporting roles in Korean productions they seem to be portrayed as generally being useless, but here they must surely take the award for the most useless police committed to film in the last 100 years. In one scene they have Ha-joon in the police station where he’s carrying a whole bag of knives and saws, and at no point do they see anything suspicious, failing to even notice when he gets into a ridiculous brawl with Hoon (in a bizarre action highlight that seems to have been thrown in for the hell of it) because they’re outside on a smoke break. The final scene even manages to one-up things in the police stupidity stakes though, so much so that I found myself laughing at what’s supposed to be the most cathartic scene in the movie.
Oh-seung is clearly a fan of the horror genre, with several scenes recalling far better movies. Watching Ha-joon lure victims into his van by way of offering a lift brings to mind Choi Min-sik’s despicable villain from Ki Jee-woon’s I Saw the Devil, and Oh-seung even gives Ha-joon his own Jack Torrance moment when he sets upon a bedroom door with an axe. Most obviously, the frantic foot chase sequences, of which we get a few, owe a nod of thanks to The Chaser, utilising the narrow pathways and winding stairs of Seoul’s neighbourhoods in a way that can’t help but get the adrenaline pumping. However these feel like lesser imitations of superior productions rather than respectful nods from a movie which is able to stand on its own, too much relying on tropes which we’ve seen before, and ultimately feeling like just another disposable entry in an already overcrowded genre.
While both Ki-joo and Ha-joon give committed performances as the leads, in the end neither of them is enough to elevate the material beyond being an average genre offering. While the brisk pace delivers the intended thrills, a number of dumb choices and character deviations are prominent enough to make Midnight only a tentative recommendation. If you’re looking for a solid serial killer thriller pitting a strong female versus a vicious killer, go check out 2016’s Missing You instead, which Oh-seung could well take a few lessons from.
Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 5.5/10
