박찬욱: 심판
Judgement (short film, 1999):
Park Chan-wook’s Brutal Anatomy of Greed
Although the story of the design, construction, collapse, and rescue operations of Seoul’s Sampoong Department Store could easily coalesce into a horror-filled disaster movie in its own right, Park Chan-wook uses the 1995 tragedy only as a starting point—a element of collective memory. This disaster, caused by human negligence, remained the world's deadliest architectural failure during peacetime until 2013.
In the opening sequences of Judgement, a bored, slightly drunken man prepares for work amidst the backdrop of morgue cooling chambers while we hear news reports detailing a series of natural disasters. Our protagonist's attention is only piqued, however, when it’s announced that families of those who died in the department store collapse will receive nearly half a million dollars in compensation—a claim the insurance company doesn't even dispute due to the obvious errors leading to the tragedy. At this point, his eyes glue to the screen. We, too, peer into the documentary-style footage of the television broadcast, filled with real images of natural disasters, victims, and a fear escalating to a global scale.
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| Director Park Chan-wook |
However, shutting the world's troubles outside the door, Park Chan-wook moves us into the morgue, where preparations are underway for the funeral of the last victim found: an unidentified girl. The characters of this micro-drama are crowded into a small room: a mourning couple claiming to be the girl’s parents (who have already secured official certification), the mortician, a two-person TV crew, and a detective who arrives later. And, of course, the body. We quickly realize that despite the documentary-like introduction, we are watching a thriller infused with film noir, combining the heated evidentiary debates of courtroom dramas with the investigative brilliance of Agatha Christie set in a single room. Yet, all of this is saturated with incredible black humor, as if Hitchcock had once worked from a Monty Python script.
A twist occurs in the story when the mortician unexpectedly announces that he, too, recognizes his own daughter in the body. Thus, we have a couple and a single man, none of whom have seen their child in years—it seems these are families from which children flee. How can justice be served in such a situation? While the reporter and the detective constantly rival one another, the attempts at proof are not lacking in passion or intimidation tactics. Tiring at the stalemate, the whole company begins drinking, and total chaos seems to take over—Park Chan-wook plays with this visually, showing a stock of beer stored in place of the missing head of a body pulled from one of the refrigerated compartments.
Uncertainty reaches its peak; no one can be sure who anyone is or what they truly want. However, a trivial but revealing question is posed: why does each party want the dead girl to be their own? If they were truly loving parents, wouldn't they hope the body belonged to a stranger, and that their own child was still alive somewhere in the world?
From this point on, motivation is no longer in question; only the manner of exposure remains. But fear not, Park Chan-wook does not run out of ideas. With the appearance of yet another character, the small room becomes a scene of divine judgement, which reality—in all its full splendor—takes possession of at the moment of the great revelation.
The short film is a double triumph. On one hand, it is a ruthless critique of people enchanted by quick riches, who strip themselves of fundamental human values to serve the money-worship of capitalism. In this sense, we see not only a critique of Korean society but a universal critique of capitalism itself. On the other hand, as a testament to Park Chan-wook’s unique filmmaking ability, the mixture of genres melts into a cohesive whole, bearing the director’s unique signature.
The film is ironic but not cynical; bitter but not embittered. Its humor is light but not weightless. Park Chan-wook is capable of moving countless small subplots that provide brilliant sketches of characters (such as the uneasy husband who doesn't seem to fully agree with what he is part of anyway) or the intrusive nature of the media.
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