Rear Window​ presents Jefferies (James Stewart) as an experienced photographer, thus legitimizing his gaze and letting the audience come to terms with his actions. He still peeps through the window of his often under-dressed neighbor and peruses the others as if he were flipping through channels on a television, but because of his profession his gaze has an added sense of permissibility. The film insists he is not simply spying, he is learning and appreciating. In the end his gaze gains extra justification, as it helps solve a criminal case, and the numerous invasions of privacy are forgotten. ​Rear Window​ presents the male gaze as justified and correct, with the simple caveat that the peeping tom must own a professional camera.

Post-classical films such as ​Blue Velvet​ begin to challenge this notion of a justified gaze. It initially provides the same setup, with Jeffrey (Kyle MacLachlan) sneaking into Dorothy’s (Isabella Rossellini) apartment to potentially solve a mystery. As he looks through the shutters of the closet, his newfound peepshow devolves into a shocking display of fetish and sexual abuse. Soon Jeffrey finds himself whisked away from his quaint notions of the American suburbs and shoved into the reality of their seedy underbellies. Instead of glorifying the outcome of the male gaze, ​Blue Velvet​ shows the horrifying results it can produce. Jeffrey’s gaze ultimately rips away his sheltered life and stomps on his innocence. The world will never be the same for him. All because he wanted to get a quick peek.

Moonlight​ then shatters the traditional notions of the male gaze. Instead of the gaze being provided by a straight and white lead, the main character, Chiron (Alex R. Hibbert, Ashton Sanders, and Trevante Rhodes), is gay and black. Unlike Jefferies and Jeffrey, Chiron does not gaze out from a position of power or authority. An innumerable amount of pain and trauma mark his younger years. His home life is nearly nonexistent. He has few real friends in the world. Chiron’s gaze is one of hope and searching for belonging. Not only is ​Moonlight​ different for prominently showcasing a homosexual relationship in a feature film, but also because it depicts a male character using his gaze from a position of incredible weakness.

Since the rules of Classical Hollywood started to be attenuated in the late 1960s, the male gaze has shifted, resulting in a change in how male characters drive stories. How a film presents the gaze to the audience controls how much power a character has. Jefferies’ gaze in ​Rear Window​ presents him as an expert, allowing him to act with impunity. However, Jeffrey’s gaze in ​Blue Velvet​ does not result in the same level of sanitized success, instead offering a tale of how the traditional male power and sexual fantasies can go horribly wrong. And then ​Moonlight uses its gaze to give light to a marginalized group and offer a fresh new perspective. As time has passed, the notion of a male gaze (and others) has obviously persisted due to the medium itself, but it has also been subverted to tell stories from new and inventive perspectives.

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The following essay contains spoilers for The Big Sleep (1946), The Reckless Moment (1949), and The Big Lebowski (1998).

The Big Sleep​ introduces us to Detective Marlowe (Humphrey Bogart) in a scene where Carmen Sternwood (Martha Vickers) almost immediately throws herself at him. Not too much further into the film a woman working at a store follows suit after talking to Marlowe for all of two minutes. As the stoic, powerful, and isolated male detective, Marlowe attracts the attention of nearly every female character in the film. In doing so, ​The Big Sleep​ illustrates the command Marlowe has over the situation at all times. That is in conjunction with his actual investigative abilities, which receive near equal screen time. If he is not flirting, he is probably making an incredible deduction so casually that you can’t help but be impressed. Marlowe’s character is the blueprint for classical film noir detectives, a mentally sharp and silver tongued man, capable of overcoming any obstacle.

The companion to any such character is the femme fatale. In classic noir, the femme fatale is the detective’s other half, and often serves as one of his greatest mental hurdles in solving the case. Although initially mixed in with all of the other women the detective may encounter, the femme fatale quickly stands out. Oftentimes she will be the one doing the seducing and lead the detective astray. She will have a power and strength of her own, but it will only serve the narrative in regard to the main detective. Over time he will learn to conquer her independence and become immune to her poison. In ​The Big Sleep,​ Vivian Rutledge (Lauren Bacall) fulfills this role, and does just as previously described. She seduces Marlowe, leads him into trouble, he overcomes it, and finally they ride off together.

Then comes ​The Reckless Moment,​ a film that begins to challenge the genre’s foundational approach. With her husband off at war, Lucia Harper (Joan Bennett) must play the role of a protective mother and try to rectify the problem her daughter, Beatrice “Bea” Harper (Geraldine Brooks), creates when she accidentally kills a man. The Reckless Moment​ strips much of the agency away from the male characters. The one doing the investigating is a woman who currently has no husband figure in her life to lean on. She does the negotiating on her own behalf, deals with the police, and tries to scrounge up enough money to satisfy an attempt at blackmail. ​The Reckless Moment​ changed the classic noir structure to allow women to be the ones in control of the narrative.

The Big Lebowski​ further dilutes the original noir style and injects its own changes. Now the male detective has lost his motivation and wit, merely stumbling upon the correct answers. Maude (Julianne Moore) controls her father (introduced as a wealthy figure) through an allowance and uses The Dude (Jeff Bridges) to get herself pregnant. She does all of this without serving the plot, only acting as another attraction for The Dude until the film’s conclusion, where nearly no real progress has occurred since the opening scene. In this iteration of the noir, the male detective has lost his edge, the femme fatale only serves herself, and there is no grand reveal or prize at the end of the mystery.

Over the years the Classical Hollywood film noir has undergone many alterations. Once a genre near solely dedicated to showing off impressive male characters and their glory, it has now opened up. Women are detectives, male sleuths are lazy and bumbling, femme fatales are independent from the investigators, and the big reveal at the end takes a back seat to the journey. None of these changes completely replace the original format, but they open the genre up to a wider variety of stories, allowing more voices to shine and for greater artistic flexibility in the way films tell these tales.

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The following essay contains spoilers for The Wolf of Wall Street (2013), American Psycho (2000), and Fight Club (1999).

Martin Scorsese’s ​The Wolf of Wall Street​ showcases the story of real life stockbroker Jordan Belfort (Leonardo DiCaprio). It illustrates his acquisition of wealth and the subsequent destruction of his empire, quickly followed by him dodging any substantial punishment. Released in 2013, ​The Wolf of Wall Street​ can be read as a direct response to the Great Recession beginning in 2007. With the help of a number of Scorsese’s filmmaking techniques, the film’s visuals directly appeal to the crowd hit hardest by the failing financial systems. Instead of responding to the destruction of Belfort’s life, audiences latch onto Belfort himself due to the spectacle inadvertently replacing the message.

As the film opens and Belfort describes how he,

“…gambles like a degenerate…”, “…drinks like a fish…”, and has “…three different federal agencies looking to indict [him]”,

Scorsese, The Wolf of Wall Street

the audience gets to watch a medium close-up of him doing cocaine off of an attractive woman’s butt. So while the film’s dialogue details a life teetering on the edge, the visual is much more engaging and desirable to a stereotypical male audience. Much like American prescription drug commercials, the potential horrors are audibly listed off while accompanied by eye candy.

Not only are the undesirable portions of Belfort’s life overshadowed, but the desirable pieces are paraded across the screen. When celebrating a week’s earnings, the office transforms into a dazzling house of debauchery. Marching band music plays, the band members march through the halls in their underwear, and then the servers and strippers follow close behind. Quick cuts between medium shots of two groups of strippers charging at each other fill the frame, with a strobe effect turning the whole scene into a dream. A close up of Belfort’s face appears near the end, as he pridefully watches over what he has created. Numerous scenes of this scale appear throughout The Wolf of Wall Street​ and they all end up distracting a sizable segment of viewers from the morally reprehensible nature of Belfort’s business and his looming demise.

The film presents all of this as easily accessible to the audience as well. According to the film Belfort’s only qualification is that he decides to move to Wall Street because of his love for money. He quickly finds himself working up the ladder as a stock broker and when that fails due to circumstances out of his control, he immediately pivots to penny stocks and experiences almost immediate success.

Finally, the film ends with Belfort proclaiming that for a,

“…brief fleeting moment, [he’d] forgotten [he] was rich”.

Scorsese, The Wolf of Wall Street

At this point the film notes that despite all of his crimes, all of those he hurt along the way, and even the destruction of his own personal life, he would not be paying a hefty legal price. It gives audience members the illusion they could experience the three hours worth of hedonistic depravity as well, at little cost. Further driving this point home, the real Jordan Belfort appears in a cameo in the final scene to introduce Leonardo DiCaprio’s character version of himself at a get-rich-quick seminar. Not only did Jordan Belfort dodge consequences for his actions, he now gets to appear in a Hollywood film directed by legendary director Martin Scorsese. In the final seconds of the film, the camera pans over the audience in a medium close-up at eye level, a metaphor for the real audiences’ aspirations to achieve Belfort’s supposed success.

Thomas Salek notes,

“…the film’s cultural reception demonstrates a public ambiguously mesmerized by a wealthy individual and his ‘get rich quick’ philosophy.” Following the Great Recession, “In a 2013 political poll, more than half of U.S. adults said they did not think the government and financial industry had done enough to prevent future financial crises”. Yet, “…they are hesitant to impose any form of regulation on financial markets”. ​

Thomas Salek

The Wolf of Wall Street​ released at a time when many Americans were economically struggling, but also refusing to punish the individuals who put them in that position, possibly out of the hope that one day it may be them on top. ​The Wolf of Wall Street​ showed the disillusioned audiences how that may be possible for them. In the United States where money is so tightly intertwined with power, the men who felt emasculated by the recession now had an outlet of escapism. ​The Wolf of Wall Street ​said by fighting their way out of poverty to reap the rewards of capitalism, men could regain their masculine identity and the rewards that accompany that (mainly women and power). Society will not simply hand out this identity, but instead it will only award it to those willing to struggle against their current socioeconomic condition.

Much like ​The Wolf of Wall Street​, Mary Harron’s ​American Psycho ​found itself released during tumultuous economic times. It reached theaters in the year 2000, with the dot-com bubble having recently burst. ​American Psycho​ follows investment banker Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale) as he strives to maintain an impeccable image for his yuppie colleagues, acquaintances, and fiancee. As the film progresses we watch as Bateman lures in and brutally murders numerous women. It concludes with Bateman being denied the condemnation he seeks by his peers, and the other characters merely continuing to focus on their own lives.

Similar to how ​The Wolf of Wall Street​ parodies the excessive lifestyle of Jordan Belfort yet the pure spectacle of it all still carries the audience away, ​American Psycho​ shows the monstrous side of Patrick Bateman but offers no in-universe condemnation of his character. Bateman’s closing monologue over an extreme close-up of his eyes states,

“My punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself”.

Mary Harron, American Psycho

This lack of a clear condemnation from other characters allows the excesses of his life to outshine the horrors for those already looking to ignore them.

As Peter Deakin points out,

“Bateman becomes so fragmented and de-individualized (in addition to being defined) by his insane consumerism and his hyper-yuppie vision that, composed entirely of ‘inauthentic’ commodity-related desires… he ​cannot​… exist as a person.”

Peter Deakin

This explains how the film itself, but not the characters within the film, does condemn Bateman. However, it also describes how his masculinity and monetary goals are interconnected. He sees every financial conquest as a means of increasing his desirability in a world he perceives to be constantly attempting to rip it away. ​American Psycho ​may mock this notion by showing how all of the yuppies mix up each other’s names due to a loss of individuality, but it is this same rampant materialism that allows Bateman to live in a fantastic apartment, make more money than he knows what to do with, sleep with beautiful women, and ultimately face no consequences for his actions. To the men directly hurt by the economic downturn of 2000, Bateman may come with a lot of baggage (the brutal killing of innocent women is no small thing), but he also represents a lost lifestyle that is waiting for reclamation. A lifestyle only available by fighting against the economic forces of the time.

So once again a film presents a conventionally despicable character and depicts his failings, yet the character’s lifestyle causes audiences to use his material possessions as a goal to guide their lives in troubled times (even though the film itself condemns this). For a country that sees,

“Achieving financial prosperity [as] tied to the American dream”,

Thomas Salek

characters that provide a blueprint for that are highly valuable since,

“…most Americans [now] contend that it is harder to become wealthy and there is little chance they will achieve financial prosperity”.

Thomas Salek

Counter to both ​The Wolf of Wall Street and American Psycho​, David Fincher’s ​Fight Club​ released just prior to the dot-com burst, during an economic peak. It depicts its disillusioned narrator (Edward Norton) and Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt) as they form the titular Fight Club, a place for aimless men to let loose their growing aggression. Increasingly fed up with a materialistic world, the members set out on a number of vandalism related plots, ultimately culminating in the destruction of numerous buildings housing countless debt records.

Fight Club​ parodies brands and corporations, and men’s increasing tendency to use them to define their lives. Mark Ramey states,

“The film is a powerful critique of a superficial consumer culture and the moral vacuum created by consumers who buy into that superficiality.”

Mark Ramey

Fight Club claims a generation without a war or depression to fight has it too easy and becomes effeminate as a result. It goes on to say men on some level crave violence and to fight and feel pain, feel themselves, and feel masculine. These men must fight to form their individuality and in death they will have a name. Their struggle gives them identity.

Of course much like the preceding two films which either depict their characters’ fall from grace and/or condemn them for their actions, ​Fight Club​ denounces the outright anarchy it depicts for much of its runtime when it has the narrator shoot out the part of his brain responsible for projecting the image of Tyler Durden, thus killing his aimless cravings for anarchy. But by depicting a lifestyle free of needless consumerism prior to this point, ​Fight Club​ offers an explanation to the men who feel like their lives lack purpose when their economic conditions are just too good. ​Fight Club​ tells these men to reject their financial bounties and instead embrace the primal nature of their identities. Toss out the comforts of modern life to get in touch with who you really are and what you truly desire. Those who stand in the way of this progress fail as men and (in the film, quite literally) find themselves castrated. Although this time Hollywood is not telling men to fight to climb the socioeconomic ladder, it is still telling them to fight, just this time to tear it all down.

These films expect men to pursue materialistic goods, but once they have acquired them they have either lost their individuality or have been so thoroughly consumed by their drive they have lost true autonomy. Films then encourage these same men to rebel against the broken system to tear it all down. And then films once again encourage them to strive for greatness because, without anything you are nothing, not desirable nor a real man. Throughout the years this cycle of societal and Hollywood based expectations has endured. A man must always be fighting in one direction or another to maintain his virility. To give in to the system, no matter which end of the spectrum the system is currently leaning, is a loss of decision making, agency, and therefore masculinity as often portrayed by American cinema.

Works Cited

• Deakin, Peter. “‘I Simply Am Not There’: American Psycho, the Turn of the Millennium and the Yuppie as a Killer of the Real.” ​Film International,​ vol. 14, no. 3–4 [77–78], 2016, pp. 85–101. ​EBSCOhost​, doi:10.1386/fiin.14.3-4.85_1.
• Harron, Mary, director. ​American Psycho​. Lions Gate Films, 2000.
• Fincher, David, director. ​Fight Club​. 20th Century Fox, 1999.
• Ramey, Mark. ​Studying Fight Club​. Auteur, 2014. ​EBSCOhost​, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=e000tna&AN=828933&site=eds-live&scope=site.
• Salek, Thomas A. “Money Doesn’t Talk, It Swears: The Wolf of Wall Street as a Homology for America’s Ambivalent Attitude on Financial Excess.” ​Communication Quarterly​, vol. 66, no. 1, Jan. 2018, pp. 1–19. ​EBSCOhost​, doi:10.1080/01463373.2017.1323767.
• Scorsese, Martin, director. ​The Wolf of Wall Street.​ Paramount Pictures, 2013.

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Directed by Leigh Whannell, The Invisible Man documents Cecilia Kass’ (Elisabeth Moss) attempted escape and recovery from her abusive and manipulative boyfriend, Adrian Griffin (Oliver Jackson-Cohen). After she flees the mansion, Adrian stages his own suicide before using his advanced technology to turn himself into the titular monster. From there he slowly but surely sabotages Cecilia’s mental recovery and turns her world against her.

One of the best parts of The Invisible Man is analyzing Cecilia’s psychological state throughout the film. Elisabeth Moss flawlessly pulls off a woman attempting to put her life back together after an incredibly abusive relationship. Moss’ performance captures every step forward and back for Cecilia.

Right from the beginning, The Invisible Man has a lot going for it. Of course the title alone produces a great deal of dramatic irony for at least the first act of the film. This results in a built-in well of tension The Invisible Man can draw from right out of the gate. Shots holding on empty space for an uncomfortably long time invite the audience to search the frame for what we know is there. Long shots through hallways create an additional sense of voyeurism. Without explicitly showing anything, The Invisible Man successfully instills fear from the opening scene.

Unfortunately, this driving force of tension falters during the climax of the film. While turning up the action and violence, The Invisible Man tosses aside the paranoia it has so meticulously cultivated. Up until this point there are only a few scenes requiring suspension of disbelief (think security cameras), but here it decides to do away with the whole concept of working in the shadows. Thankfully the film manages to course correct afterwards, but this blip significantly neuters The Invisible Man’s ability to use its bag of psychological tricks.

Another issue attached to later moments is it visually stumbles a bit with the CGI heavy scenes. The budget just is not there to deal with the extended use of the advanced technology they are going for. It is never so bad that it becomes cheesy, but it is noticeable.

Overall, The Invisible Man is a great story of overcoming mental abuse and gaslighting. The ending may not present 100% explicit answers, but it asks us to trust the victim and not fall into the trap of (extremely weak) plausible deniability; ring any bells? Indulge yourself with The Invisible Man this coronavirus quarantine season, for it is a true psychological horror treat.

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Usually, studios provide theaters with roughly 90 days of exclusivity before releasing films through other means. With Universal Pictures now defying that norm, this could potentially lead to long term issues for theaters. Will moviegoers want to give up the convenience of their own home? After all, home theater set-ups have improved substantially and it seems harder and harder to find a venue with patrons not on their phones or talking to one another.

After a few months of social distancing, new habits will form. Once loyal theatergoers may begin to shun going out for the latest films and embrace a simpler and more personal experience. Home set-ups may never truly match the screen and sound quality of a decent theater, but how good is good enough? Is the pure spectacle of it all still a strong draw? Or are Universal’s actions another nail in the traditional theater system’s coffin?

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The following scene analysis contains spoilers for Some Like It Hot (1959).

Back beneath the table, Wilder packs the frame tightly, producing a sense of claustrophobia and anxiety. A pole runs in front of our view of Joe, a tablecloth takes up a quarter of the frame on either side, and Wilder films both Joe and Jerry with a medium close-up shot. But perhaps most importantly, Spats’ trademark shoes reside on the left-hand side of the frame, just behind Joe and slightly out of focus, but prominent enough to remind us of the danger of the situation.

The film routinely introduces the primary antagonist, Spats Colombo (George Raft), with a close-up shot of his distinct shoes. The film then either cuts to his face or employs an upward pan (tilt) to reveal the entirety of the menacing man. This process of association takes place repeatedly throughout Some Like It Hot. So by the time Joe and Jerry find themselves underneath the table, the audience understands the dramatic weight of the shoes sharing the frame. Tensions peak when all of these elements come together for a brief few seconds, and then momentarily dissipate when the unmistakable shoes slide out and go limp for the last time. That is, until we and our protagonists realize an even larger threat just effortlessly inserted himself into the chase.

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The scene, and especially the background, has low-key lighting and a multitude of shadows (a staple of film noir). However, when the waitress moves from the foreground to the background to serve another patron, she also turns on a light positioned to appear as if over Marlowe’s head. The newfound light illuminates the background behind the pondering detective, casting away the shadows. Coinciding with the light’s arrival, Marlowe’s search for an idea ends and he heads to the phone to call General Sternwood (Charles Waldron), and winds up conversing with Vivian Rutledge (Lauren Bacall) instead. Hawks follows Marlowe’s movement with a panning shot to show the connection between the idea and the action, and the urgency it demands.

The shift in lighting symbolizes the formation of the thought in Detective Marlowe’s mind, and does it so evidently that it breaks the rules of Classical Hollywood Style. Classical Hollywood Style calls for invisible filmmaking and editing, in the hope audiences forget they are watching a movie. Hawks’ much more stylized approach to lighting in The Big Sleep ignores that convention and helps cement him as a legitimate auteur in the eyes of film critics. Not only do his films spanning many genres carry similar motifs, but they also carry the director’s mark. By breaking both Hollywood and genre conventions, Hawks proves himself to be more than simply another cog in the studio system.

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THE trailer for 21 year old writer-director Keyvan Sheikhalishahi’s third major film, Divertimento, just dropped… and it looks rather interesting. Sheikhalishahi has directed two other shorts with Amitice, the French production company. His short films Nox (2019) and Vesper (2017) clock in at 13min and 23min respectively, and both boast respectable IMDB scores. Divertimento represents the young director’s fourth attempt at the thriller genre (he filmed Turba (2014) independently with his family), and this time he significantly boosted the cast.

Divertimento features Kellan Lutz (Twilight), Torrey DeVitto (Chicago Med), Ola Rapace (Skyfall), Götz Otto (Cloud Atlas), Christian Hillborg (Fleabag), Ellie Heydon (Harlots), and Brittany Gonzales (Kellan Lutz’s wife). It tells the story of Jonas Olsen (Kellan Lutz), a chess player with a tragic past who must now participate in a mysterious game, Divertimento. With this many notable actors, Divertimento seems poised to act as the next step for Sheikhalishahi’s directing career.

Unfortunately, the recently released trailer will not be kick-starting that professional development. This first trailer sets up some intrigue and introduces the standard cliché chess metaphor, but the editing does it no favors. The juxtaposition of dramatic music with shots and dialogue clips more so belonging on a daytime soap opera creates an uncanny effect.

There seems to be promise lurking beneath the questionable trailer editing, but it is regrettable that Divertimento’s potential could not be on full display here. Hopefully Sheikhalishahi’s latest venture proves worthwhile, but we will have to wait until later this year to find out.

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Brad Pitt plays Roy McBride, an astronaut on a mission to find his missing father (played by Tommy Lee Jones) out in space and save the world. The secrecy surrounding the mission only fuels Roy’s daddy issues as he delves further into space.

The stunning visuals of Ad Astra captivate the eyes. James Gray does an excellent job of lighting and framing each shot just right. He and the film never disappoint in this department, and watching Ad Astra for the cinematography alone might prove worthwhile.

If it does prove worthwhile, it will not have anything to do with the rest of the movie. Brad Pitt does his best, but the film does not give him much to work with. Side characters are just that, relegated to the sidelines and only given a meager number of lines. Tommy Lee Jones does not get enough time to leave much of an impact, but like Brad Pitt, strives to make the most of it.

Ad Astra tries to cultivate a contemplative atmosphere with rising tension; however, it actually moves painfully slow except for short bursts of action designed to wake the audience back up. Slower paced films can and often do work (see Once Upon a Time in Hollywood for a recent example), but they need to either have something interesting to say, say something in an interesting way, or get a little weird and wild at the end. Basically, they need to have a payoff and Ad Astra has none. Ad Astra instead offers viewers standard issue commentary on family, father-son relationships, and appreciating what you have in front of you. Nothing too exciting. The film does have one good line rephrasing these concepts in a unique context, but it does not do enough.

No matter how hard it tries, Ad Astra amounts to nothing more than mere eye candy. It seemingly mutes most of its actors’ performances to lend gravity to the drama, yet never capitalizes on the tension it creates. The conclusion has nothing unique to offer and does not redeem or enhance the slog endured to get there. Visuals alone cannot save this film, but you should save yourself the time.

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Parasite follows the Kim family and their steady infestation of the Park household. One by one, each family member finds their niche in the mansion and begins to experience the lifestyle of the other half. Naturally, class-based tension begins to arise and ultimately comes to a head.

Even with subtitles (Korean dialogue), which sometimes take away from actors’ vocal performances for the foreign crowd (they absolutely do not here), the facial expressions and nuance on display alone make the incredible acting clear to see. Kang-ho Song as Kim Ki-taek and So-dam Park as Kim Ki-jung particularly stand out in this regard. All cast members bring their characters to life so flawlessly and naturally that they immediately immerse you in their world. This total immersion allows Bong Joon-ho to introduce narrative elements later on that would not have the same striking imagery or effect otherwise.

Bong Joon-ho beautifully frames the shots of Parasite throughout. One flash frame in particular proves to be truly mesmerizing, but to go into more detail would risk spoilers. An easy example of the aforementioned terrific cinematography comes in a scene depicting the Kim family descending back down below to their humble dwelling. Each shot sinking lower into the abyss adds to the scene’s sense of purpose and strengthens the already gripping narrative. Bong Joon-ho enchants the entirety of Parasite with this level of filmmaking, which makes every scene a pleasure to watch.

Perhaps most impressively, some of the largest emotional notes come from objects in frame that never get directly addressed. These little details flesh out Parasite’s world and make the Kim family’s situation even more lamentable.

Beyond its performances and technical beauty, Parasite offers commentary on the innate class divides found in society. As the Park family patriarch, Park Dong-ik, often says, the lesser know not to cross the line. However, with the destitute Kims now inhabiting the same space, they have shattered that barrier. The Parks recognize the value the Kims bring them and the Kims recognize the Parks have done nothing wrong. Yet, the Kims grow envious of the Parks’ possessions while the Parks look down upon the Kims’ sewage-esque stench. These tensions grow and bubble beneath the surface and illustrate even with two families existing in a symbiotic relationship, the very nature of their two worlds will drive them apart.

As the film goes on, even the title becomes less defined. Of course it refers to the Kims at the beginning, who infest the home like cockroaches, but by the end you cannot help but look at the Parks in a different light. After all, they have taken advantage of the Kims’ labor all this time while viewing the family as beneath themselves. The Park matriarch, Park Yeon-kyo, uses her husband for his money and connections while he in turn uses her for sex. The dynamics at play between and within the families have you questioning who the real parasite is, and who simply exists in a peaceful symbiotic state.

The conclusion of Parasite initially seems poised to be incredibly cliche, but again Bong Joon-ho impresses and delivers a final striking message on plans of upward mobility and the role of posing in society.

Director Bong Joon-ho delivers the must-see movie of 2019 with Parasite, a film that both startles and delights. Impeccable performances and cinematography, coupled with messages on class divides and their place in society hook you into the world of Parasite from the very beginning. By the end the scenery may be shockingly unrecognizable, but the film has made its point.

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