31/08/2025 - VENICE 2025: Park Chan-wook blends gruesome comedy and capitalist critique in his adaptation of Donald E Westlake's novel The Ax

Premiering in the main competition of the Venice Film Festival, Park Chan-wook’s No Other Choice [+see also:
trailer
film profile] arrives with a familiar set of ingredients: grotesque violence, dark humour, and a social critique that feels both obvious and necessary. What emerges is a gruesome yet frequently hilarious thriller-comedy that interrogates capitalism, status, corporate culture and the merciless logic of the market economy, while offering another showcase for the Korean helmer’s razor-sharp command of tone and style.

At the centre of this adaptation of the Donald E Westlake 1997 novel The Ax (which was already adapted by Costa-Gavras into The Ax [+see also:
trailer
film profile]) is Man-su (Lee Byung-hun, recently seen as the Front Man in Netflix hit Squid Game), a veteran specialist in paper manufacturing who lives a contented life with his wife Miri (Son Ye-jin), their children, and two dogs. One morning, this balance shatters when his employer unceremoniously dismisses him: “We’re sorry. We have no other choice.” The words become a refrain for the film, a bitter mantra that underlines the hypocrisy of supposedly rational corporate decisions. Park sets Man-su on a downward spiral, drifting from interview to interview, his dignity chipped away piece by piece until desperation transforms him into something altogether more dangerous.

The mask of Man-su carries the entire film. At times reminiscent of the bumbling tragicomic heroes of Italian cinema – there is something halfway Kafkaesque everyman and Breaking Bad’s Walter White about his posture and expressions. In this sense, Lee’s performance captures both the absurdity and the menace of an ordinary man gone bad. His gradual descent into ruthless schemes, culminating in a plot to “create” an opening at the prestigious Moon Paper factory, embodies the contradictions of a society that simultaneously idolises stability and thrives on its destruction.

Park surrounds him with a strong supporting ensemble. Son Ye-jin shines as Miri, the quietly rational counterweight to her husband’s unravelling. Her presence anchors the film emotionally, even as Man-su plunges further into grotesque scenarios. Together they sketch a world where work, family, and social recognition blur into one oppressive moloch.

Technical credits are smooth. The score by Cho Young-wuk, long-time Park collaborator, is particularly striking. In one of the feature’s most memorable sequences, music swells to such overpowering intensity that viewers are forced to rely on subtitles to follow the dialogue, their attention fixed on faces contorted by absurd pathos.

That said, the 139-minute run is not entirely justified, and the first half occasionally falters under the weight of repetitive humiliation and sluggish set-up. Yet once the narrative finds its stride, the story becomes rich with twists and tonal shifts. Park juggles slapstick, nerdiness, self-help culture, binge drinking, horror, satire, and thriller tropes with the confidence of a filmmaker who thrives on contaminations.

Ultimately, No Other Choice may not reach the ferocious heights of Park’s Vengeance Trilogy, but it remains a solid chapter in his filmography. The critique of capitalism and the obsession with maintaining social status is hardly subtle, yet it is rendered with a precision that turns cliché into something fresh. The humour is biting, the violence ghastly, and the overall experience both puzzling and rewarding.

No Other Choice was produced by Korea’s Moho Film with France’s KG Productions. CJ ENM is in charge of its world rights.