“The Wild” Theatrical Poster
Director: Kim Bong-han
Cast: Park Sung-woong, Oh Dae-hwan, Seo Ji-hye, Joo Suk-tae, Oh Dal-soo, Hwang Se-In
Running Time: 110 min.
By Paul Bramhall
When Korean cinema broke out internationally in the early 2000’s it was the countries gangster genre that quickly gained a favourable reputation, defined by an aesthetic that never shone away from brutal violence, and populated by memorable characters who were usually lucky to make it to the end credits. By the time the 2010’s hit the genre was at its peak, and as with any genre that achieves a certain level of commercial success, countless derivative productions began to populate the screen, lazily recycling the tropes of the movies that influenced them. It wasn’t even halfway through the decade that the sharp suited, stab happy gangster movie that was once synonymous with the Korean film industry had all but disappeared.
Since 2017 the Korean gangster genre has evolved to be almost exclusively defined by the Ma Dong-seok brand of punching people in the face, swapping out the stern-faced machismo of yesteryears gangster beatdowns for a slightly lighter, more humorous approach. However the 2020’s have seen an unexpected revival of the 2000’s era gangster – sharp suited, foul mouthed, and stab happy – with productions like Paid in Blood and Hot Blooded hedging their bets on harking back to an earlier time. The budgets may not be as big as they once were (which onscreen usually translates to the story being set in a mid-size seaside town as opposed to Seoul), and they may not come with the A-list names they once did, but essentially they still deliver all the same ingredients for an audience who knows what they like.
The Wild is the latest entry in Korea’s gangster canon, and like its counterparts it takes all of the elements that defined its 2000’s era ancestors and distils them down to their purest form – for better or worse. Characters dress sharply and curse at each other a lot, most of them get stabbed at least once during the runtime, every female character is either a sex worker or a madame (all working in a karaoke bar of course), and there’s the obligatory North Korean crazies from Yanbian. There’s an overwhelming familiarity to The Wild, the same kind of familiarity felt while watching the other mentioned titles, so I wonder what’s changed from those 2010’s era gangster movies that were usually called derivative and run of the mill. My own theory is nothing – all these 2020’s era mid-budget gangster movies are also derivative and run of the mill, but they disappeared just long enough for us to get nostalgic for them again.
In The Wild go-to villain actor Park Sung-woong (The Great Battle, The Shameless) takes a break from being the bad guy to play an underground boxer just out of prison. Out on good behaviour after serving 7 of an 8-year sentence, we learn Sung-woong accidentally killed his last opponent in the ring. The match was part of an underground fight circuit partly run by his gangster friend, played by Oh Dae-hwan (Devils, Deliver Us from Evil), who’s also the one that’s there to greet him upon release. While Sung-woong is reluctant to get into the gangster business and wants to go straight, he does end up reluctantly accepting Dae-hwan’s gift of setting him up with a place to stay and a girl for the night. Played by K-drama actress Seo Ji-hye, the pair end up bonding over their shared experience of attempted suicide, and Sung-woong’s feelings of protectiveness end up leading him to oversee one of Dae-hwan’s karaoke bars where Ji-hye works.
Being a gangster movie, it doesn’t take too long for things to get messy, starting with Sung-woong utilising his boxing skills to put the beatdown on an abusive customer who turns out to be a corrupt cop. Played with an almost psychotic relish by Joo Suk-tae (The Man Standing Next, A Hard Day), if there was an award for the least convincing cop character to ever grace the screen, then chances are he’d be a strong contender. But since it’s the gangster genre we’ll suspend disbelief that his drug taking, sexually violent, money laundering sociopath can easily pass off as an officer of the law. As penance for his misdemeanour Suk-tae coerces Sung-woong into getting involved in a plan to steal a heap of cash from a North Korean drug supplier, played by Oh Dal-soo (Tunnel, Veteran), which should give them all a healthy payday.
Once the go-to actor for the kind of bumbling, affable supporting character that was a mainstay in much of Korea’s cinematic output in the 2000’s and 2010’s, Dal-soo disappeared from the screen after his own misdemeanours came to light when the #metoo movement swept through the industry in 2018. The Oh Dal-soo who returned 3 years later in 2021 had shed the kind of role he was typically typecast in, and his character in The Wild further shows him moving away from the persona audiences once knew him for. Playing a variation of the edgy Yanbian gangster character, the type so memorably portrayed by the likes of Kim Yun-seok in The Yellow Sea and Yook Kye-sang in The Outlaws, Dal-soo’s main role is to strut around with an imposing dagger, cook up some dog meat stew, and look mean by using his own arm as an ashtray. The role may be derivative, but he does an effective enough job with what’s available.
The Wild is director Kim Bong-han’s 4th time to helm a feature length production, and he clearly has a penchant for testosterone fuelled tales of machismo, having previously directed the likes of 2017’s Ordinary Person and 2020’s The Golden Holiday. His latest follows the same pattern, with Sung-woong’s character at one point described as someone who “has guts and loyalty”, which gives some indication as to the type of dialogue that populates The Wild. To his credit, Bong-han keeps the pace moving for most of its 110-minute runtime, and as much as familiarity can breed contempt, it can also sometimes be welcome, as is the case here for the classic gangster locations that numerous meetings and betrayals play out in. Karaoke bars, dimly lit market alleyways, docklands, dirt roads underneath highway bridges, and of course the classis basement carpark are all present and accounted for, adding an authentically gritty feel.
The brief bursts of action are also competently staged, with Sung-woong delivering a convincing performance once it comes to breaking out his boxing skills, complimented by an effectively meaty sound design that emphasises the impact of fist hitting face. There’s no Ma Dong-seok style one punch knockouts on display here, with faces being repeatedly pummelled out of hate fuelled vengeance rather than based purely on threat neutralisation, and things frequently get bloody. I’d argue a lot of the appeal of productions like The Wild comes from the willingness to get stab happy and let the blood flow, a violent streak that’s somewhat diminished in Korea’s cinematic output of recent years. This is demonstrated no better than in a scene when a character gets stabbed in the chest which is shot from below, and the blood proceeds to spill all over the camera until the lens turns into a red filter.
Bong-han’s latest may not be the most original piece of filmmaking, and he arguably tries to cram it with one too many conflicts (Sung-woong ends up also having to deal with the brother of the boxer he killed, as well as an unexpected connection that Ji-hye has to his past – both aspects that ultimately feel superfluous), however it’s still a competent slice of genre fare. Especially for those who’ve noticed that Korean cinema has leaned increasingly into happy endings in recent years (I’m frequently surprised at how many characters are still standing when the credits roll these days!), then The Wild should definitely tick the boxes, wrapping up with one of the most downbeat closing scenes in recent memory.
In short, if you’re unfamiliar with many of Korea’s gangster movie classics from the 1997 – 2017 (starting with No. 3 and ending with The Outlaws) era, then The Wild should be way down your to-watch list, and maybe even not on it at all. For those who’ve seen everything the genre had to offer, and long for the days when a dose of men in suits going at each other with knives and steel pipes always felt just around the corner, then it’ll more than likely scratch the itch. Look at it like a movie version of a nicotine patch, and expectations should be set accordingly.
Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 6/10
