Parasite ★★★½

Familiar structures, the place where concern lies, where trust lies, everything is a net of connections but everything is also fabricated. As always with Bong, the commentary is precisely imagined and extremely well detailed, with a particular care for social conflict and geographic conscience, the class struggle as a moral clash of voluntary servitude with crooked hiccup. So funny and so dark.

It never ceases to amaze me how Bong never leaves any loose ends diegetically, managing to always pick up visual motifs or particular gestures later on when something is emphasized, leaving everything tightly stringed up together. The ending, even if a bit underwhelming, can easily be misunderstood, as it’s the humorous conclusion of a sattire that comprehends our social and economical organization as a violent, stiffly deterministic system where the manipulation of its pieces is an extremely dangerous and complex business. One can only dream, alienated, with the perpetuation of a flawed system through the illusory relocation of elements given individual effort to end up in the tip of the pyramid, perhaps finding some rest and finally stopping to pretend.

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