No Other Choice will be released in theaters on Christmas Day, with a wide release coming in January.
Let’s be real: today’s job market sucks. Layoffs are constant, every moronic executive thinks they can replace their workers with AI, and most people would probably rather commit murder than spend more time on LinkedIn. If any movie in 2025 has its finger on the pulse of the moment, it’s most certainly No Other Choice. The latest entry from Park Chan-wook, the film stars Lee Byung-hun as a man who goes to homicidal lengths to secure a coveted job opening and ensure he can still provide for his family. Beloved by film fans worldwide for movies like Oldboy (2003), The Handmaiden (2016), and Decision to Leave (2022), the South Korean auteur returns with yet another film that defies genre but satisfies in all the ways that count.
Our “hero” is Man-su (Lee), a highly skilled paper industry employee who loses his job after American investors restructure the company where he’s worked for 25 years. Still facing unemployment thirteen months later, and desperate to keep the upper middle class lifestyle he’s grown accustomed to, Man-su hatches a scheme to identify and then eliminate the three men in the region with the credentials to challenge him for a position at another papermaking firm (it’s apparently a pretty small industry). But Man-su is new to the whole “killing people” thing, and needs to work up the nerve to finally do it, grapple with his own ineptitude at pulling it off, and also keep both his family and the authorities in the dark, leading to a cascading effect of chaotic consequences as his machinations go awry.
Like previous Park films, No Other Choice is a dense and thorny affair, weaving numerous subplots and tonal registers together in a way that strengthens them all. It’s a movie that can be hilarious, depressing, and tense all at once, without shortchanging its dramatic aims even as it left my audience frequently cackling in their seats. The comedic bent is of a darkly satirical flavor, and although its bitter absurdism may hit a bit too close to home for some, it feels appropriate for a movie that’s so tapped into the zeitgeist of the mid-2020s. The film is in fact an adaptation of a 1997 novel, The Ax by Donald E. Westlake, but the thematic concepts at play in regards to how capitalism erodes both our morals and sense of self are timeless. The specifics, however, such as the constriction of analog industries with few remaining experts and the looming specter of AI-powered automation, make No Other Choice feel distinctly contemporary.
The film also works well as a family drama even with all the murder and mayhem packed in. Man-su’s wife Mi-ri (Son Ye-jin) is just as determined to find a way through the crisis, and although she elects for more reasonable avenues like “take a job as a dental assistant” or “cut down on excess spending” as opposed to homicide, the emotional toll it takes on her and her marriage are mined for both depth and humor. Lee and Son make for an excellent pair of lead performers, bouncing off each other with crackling electricity and proving once again why they’re two of their home country’s biggest stars. The writing and performances convey a lived-in relationship between two characters who radiate history between them even though we don’t see any of their premarital life.
But the aspect that makes No Other Choice its best self is how it evokes sympathy for Man-su’s plight while not justifying his actions by making his situation untenable. This is not a story of a poverty-stricken man fighting for survival; Man-su is never truly at risk of losing a roof over his head or a way to feed his family. Mi-ri makes it clear they could afford to sell their house and move into an apartment, and that if Man-su was willing to make a career change instead of being deadset on papermaking, things would likely be just fine. Even the “loss” of the family dogs to save on pet care is temporary, because they’re not really gone; they’re just staying with Mi-ri’s parents for the time being. The irrationality of Man-su’s actions is counterbalanced by how understandable it is that late-stage capitalism made him this way – how a lifetime of self-worth provided by his papermaking skills have convinced him that there’s, well, no other choice but to slaughter his way back to the top.
If the film doesn’t quite reach the heights of Park’s best – Decision to Leave-heads, rise up! – it’s less to do with any real deficiencies in the craft than it is not quite hitting as hard emotionally due to the subject matter. Sure, the runtime is maybe fifteen minutes too long, and there’s the occasional directorial flourish that feels like Park is stunting instead of doing something that actively contributes to the storytelling, but those are minor complaints. Ultimately, while I wasn’t as overwhelmed by the experience as I am with the very best films, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t watch this one as soon as you get the chance.
