Cedric B.’s review published on Letterboxd:
A command of the class politics of space (and home) so strong, one wonders if anyone needed dialogue in this thing.
spoilers by way of vague suggestion ahead.
The rock ceases to be a rock when submerged in architecture. The rock's metaphoric value (highlighted by Ki-woo) reveals itself at the moment no natural 'use' for it is found, and, it is in that initial encounter in the first act when Joon-Ho Bong warps the Western tradition of dramaturgy (think Chekhovian structure) and questions, 'on what conditions or means can this find a 'use'?' And, the first answer, which comes almost immediately, that its 'used' in architecture, buildings, walls, arrowheads, basements, etc. urges us to consider the requirement of additional capital that must be added to a solitary rock for the 'use' to be found and realized. The second answer, and one that satisfies the dramaturgic set-up, responds contrarily: all one needs is an angry motherfucker who has nothing left for that rock to be 'used.'