#i finally see what the lem hype is about

[erbiumspectrum]

31 January 2025

One exam down, three to go 😮‍💨 I'm hoping to focus on molecular pchem today but I'm so tired and distracted. I finished reading Lem's His Master's Voice and I have so many thoughts I need to organize before I can write a coherent review but an incoherent (and honest!) review is as follows: aaaahhhhhh!! (Please read it)

[reg-reviews]

Train to Busan - Remembering the Wheel

Train to Busan was my favourite film of last year. Not just my favourite Korean film; not just my favourite genre film - it was without any doubt in my mind my favourite film of 2016. Before I bought my ticket I hadn't heard any hype, hadn't seen the trailer, and literally all I knew about it going in was that it was a Korean zombie movie (which should be enough in anyone's book). So it's fair to say I wasn't expecting to have my mind blown as much as it was when I sat in my seat. But blown my mind was, to the point where I seriously considered standing in my seat and applauding when the credits finally rolled. No, seriously. 

Now, naturally I was in a serious rush after that first viewing. Looking back now, it's possible that while a significant part of that was the quality of the film, some may have been the excitement of discovering something new that I hadn't heard anyone else talking about – not my friends nor any film buffs or reviewers I followed. There's something to be said about being The First in your circle to discover something amazing, as well as the hope that you'll inspire others to seek it out and the satisfaction in hearing their approval. But there's also something to be said about staying power, and when I started to come down off the high I began to wonder if I should dare a second viewing. Would it be a film that reinforces my love on a second viewing, like The Spectacular Now, or would the roller coaster be to some degree less exciting once I knew all of its twists and turns ala Snowpiercer?

As you may have guessed, I was pleased beyond measure to find it to be the former. If I was surprised Train to Busan made me cry the first time I watched it, I was astounded to find myself crying again for round two. And I guess that’s when I began to wonder. I've seen a lot of the tropes in many films before, but why had they worked so well in this film, yet fell flat in so many others attempting the same? Why could I find myself remembering every character and dramatic moment in, of all things, a zombie movie? Over the many long, wearisome months between the film's cinematic run and its (thank God) eventual Blu-ray release, I found myself mulling over it in my mind, and now after watching it again, I feel compelled to get some kind of attempt at an analysis out of my system.

I should admit from the get go that I did not study film at University, and that my relatively limited knowledge of film technique comes primarily from various Internet essayists (both text and video). So I'm in a somewhat difficult position – I'm convinced the film demonstrates amazing storytelling, but I'm far from an expert in deeply analysing them. The main reason I feel compelled to even try is, well, I can't find any kind of in-depth analysis of the storytelling in this film. Hell, I can't really find any analysis at all. I mean, without looking, I can guarantee there are some fairly complex analyses of recent films like La La Land, Moonlight, and even genre movies like Arrival and Shin Godzilla, and they're all deserving to their own degrees, but I'd easily consider Train to Busan as worthy of such discussion. So, since I can't find anything to help me understand why this film worked so well, I'm left to try and get my own thoughts down and attempt to work it out for myself.

When I initially started this piece, I was going to keep the spoilers to a minimum. That plan will go out the window by the end, but for the first few paragraphs at least I'm going to focus primarily on the clip below. For context, it takes place about a third of the way through the film after the passengers have disembarked from the zombie-infested high-speed train, at a station they believe is safe from the infection. As an aside, I love that this clip is available on YouTube. Not only do I feel it perfectly encapsulates everything I love about this film, but the lack of subtitles (a feature I wish were available on the Blu-ray) and no familiarity of the Korean language allows for a complete focus on the visual storytelling on display.

For arbitrary reasons, let's start with why I cared about all the characters so much. While it must be mentioned that the casting is amazing, the actors all charismatic, and the costume designs are visually distinct and striking, I feel there's more to it than that. If that was all it took, then I why did I care so much more for the characters in Train to Busan than those in a film with equally strong examples of those attributes, like The Force Awakens? There are vague terms I could throw around like "flawed", "likeable", "realistic" or even "badass", but I guess if I were to do a post-viewing analysis as to why I found these characters compelling, I think it comes down to a little bit of visually demonstrated personality, a little bit of understanding character behaviour, and a feeling sense that the characters are driving the story while remaining true to themselves.

Let's look at the clip above. Now, at first glance it would be easy to see this as just everyone running away from zombies, which in a way it is. But to paraphrase a quote or idea I once heard somewhere that's stuck with me (though for life of my I can't remember if it was in a storytelling, inspirational, or political context, weirdly enough), "We are not our situations – we are how we react to our situations". And that's exactly what's on display in that scene – yes, everyone is running away from a horde of zombies, but their distinct personalities and psychologies are evident in HOW they're reacting. The degree of their emotional responses, their body language, and especially who they prioritise (whether themselves or others) speak volumes about each of them.

Let's get more specific and look at the main cast of characters one by one. We first see Sang-hwa in the blue jacket descending on the escalator. He displays an immediate reaction of panic and fear upon seeing the oncoming zombie horde, but he follows this up with a (relatively speaking) calm and coordinated move of lifting his pregnant wife (Seong-kyeong) over onto the stairs before following himself. Later we see him risking his own life by charging to attack a zombie before it grabs the little girl Soo-an, and sticking around to hold the doors allowing the survivors more time to escape. So, on paper this sounds like he's a generic hero, but his facial expressions and body give him some more depth. Sure, he looks scared and concerned, but you can also see hints of frustration and perhaps even anger there, which I think is also expressed in the way he punches the zombies almost out of spite and annoyance. This reinforces earlier and later scenes which demonstrate his short temper, and can even be seen in the way he hurries the Homeless Man out of the way, and when he calls out to the business man Seok-woo to hurry up (hell, in the subtitles he calls him "Asshole"). As an aside, I've seen some websites claim Sang-hwa is meant to be a professional martial artist, but I don't agree. The actor who plays him is a mixed martial artist in real life, so I believe they may be projecting those attributes onto the character. If anything, to me the fighting looks scrappy, raw, and full of anger and annoyance, which feels a lot more appropriate for the character.

As for Seong-kyeong, while we don't see as much in this particular sequence, we can get more than just "pregnant wife" from her character. She too maintains a constant look of fear and panic, naturally, but like her husband she remains relatively focussed and in control. We see her run towards her husband and Soo-an, focussed primarily on getting the latter to safety. Before descending the steps to the station, we see her check out the window, showing her intelligence and attentiveness (also seen quickly after they're on the platform and she's looking around to ensure the coast is clear, whereas most everyone else is running in a blind state of panic). Soon after, we see them pause temporarily upon seeing the zombie that's fallen between the two elderly ladies, then move TOWARDS one of the ladies to help them, further demonstrating both being selfless. But even in this brief scene we see she may not be so perfect, namely in her reaction when the Homeless Man blocks the door. She clearly hesitates, perhaps worrying that letting him in would let a zombie in too (perhaps even worried he's become a zombie), and after she opens the door for him she steps back with a look of disgust on her face (which wouldn't be the only time themes of classism are brought up in the film).

Now let's look at Soo-an's father, the business man Seok-woo. As extra context for this scene, the reason he, Soo-ann, and the Homeless Man are on this walkway instead of descending with most of the others is because Seok-woo called a business associate in the area (listed in his phone as a "lemming" indicating both his position in the corporate hierarchy and his attitude towards those beneath him) to find out a way to avoid the quarantine they were all heading for (The Homeless Man overheard him on the phone). We first see him talking to his daughter, like he's trying to reassure her, before he walks towards the military officer across the walkway. But this isn't a typical "Everything is going to be okay, I'll be right back" type of reassurance – it's incredibly brief and detached, as evident when he immediately starts running away while Soo-ann visibly wipes tears from her eyes (tears shed because she was upset at her father's selfishness) and the camera zooms back to emphasise her feeling of abandonment. But while he may not care very much about Soo-ann's feelings, he clearly cares about her – as soon as he realises things have gone to shit, he immediately looks back and runs towards her. As for aspects of his character, as well as the business attire (which I should stress he didn't even really need to wear that day), his default expression of fear comes across as desperation and stress, and as when he's called over towards the glass doors by Sang-hwa he doesn't even consider helping anyone else on his way, only himself. We also see he's not a violent or aggressive person, perhaps exemplified by the fact he literally tried to fight off a zombie using a book.

Rounding out the rest of the cast (besides Soo-ann, whom I think I more or less covered across the previous entries), the Homeless Man is clearly a clumsy, panicking, even somewhat cowardly man (seen not just in his facial expressions and limp, but also in how he doesn't stay and help secure the glass doors), he's not completely selfish as evidenced by his brief assistance of Seok-woo with his coat. Yong-guk (the young male baseball player) is seen urging Jin-hee (his female friend) to escape, the latter hesitant to leave (and all of this is clearly told through maybe 3 seconds of body language), both showing their selflessness by his helping with the glass doors and her assisting others into the train. And finally we have the elderly business man Yon-suk, who is clearly not only scared and desperate but completely selfish. While he appears to grab someone and help them when they see the horde, this is only because that man was the train driver and hence somebody useful to him. Though this may come across as thoughtful, once he's on the train he hysterically grabs the train employee in a desperate plea to get the train moving, showing he only cares about his own safety. Then later once the door is closed does it again but more threateningly, even going so far as to shove aside Jin-hee when she objects.

As well as the above-mentioned visually-reinforced character traits, each character has a consistent psychology throughout. You constantly understand why each character behaves the way they do in every scene, so it never feels like a character is acting inexplicably or "stupidly" for the sake of raising the tension (unlike, say, the more recent Alien films). Even the arguable villain of the piece, Yon-suk, feels all too human and in a way pitiful, despite him acting consistently selfish and destructively.

So, that's enough about visual characterisation for now, so let's try and analyse some of the other storytelling techniques in this one scene (again, I'll stress I'm somewhat limited in my knowledge here, so bear with me). If there's one thing I'm a sucker for, it's a film with great editing. Hell, I'll admit that The Accountant is a bad film, but I thoroughly enjoyed the hell out of it because the editing was so damn good. In any case, Train to Busan is no exception. Even setting aside vague notions of the rhythm of scenes, and appropriate length of shots to let the emotional beats play out, there's just some solid cuts going on here. One of my favourite examples is the quick close up shot of Sang-hwa reacting to the horde before panning outwards, allowing the audience to become more invested in the situation by focusing on a personal reaction amidst the chaos. Another is right after the zombies attack the soldier pleading for help on the walkway. We pan from the Homeless Man to Seok-woo, cut to a close-up of him from the opposite angle turning around, then cut to where he's looking (his daughter waiting as commanded while chaos ensues behind her), then cut to his feet starting to run. It's simple but elegant motivated editing – seeing a person looking a direction and then cutting to their point of view – but it works.

Another of my favourite little techniques in this scene in the use of slow motion. It's common to see slow motion in other films used to make an action sequence seem more exciting or give it an epic feel, but here (like in its rare use throughout the rest of the film) it's used to emphasise the panic and desperation, mimicking what happens when the adrenaline kicks in (along with the sound drowning out). And like with one of the previous editing examples, it allows the audience to focus on another personal situation amongst the chaos, and also give us time to take in all that's happening in what is for the characters a short amount of time. As a cherry on top snapping back to real-time when the immediate danger is briefly alleviated with Sang-hwa's elbow gives that strike additional weight.

While it's hard to pin this down to a single technique, I must also really praise the film's sense of geography. Whether it's something vague like genius storyboarding or the above-mentioned motivated editing or what have you, you really do have a strong sense of where everyone and everything is in relation to each other in every scene and shot. Another classic example of this idea: the station shoot-out in The Untouchables. This may not seem relatively important, but as a recent example my enjoyment of the recent Free Fire was hindered because I was frequently confused as to the relative locations of all the characters. Now, you could argue that this sort of spacial awareness is harder to get across in a more open environment like an abandoned factory than a more two-dimentional setting like a train carriage, so it may be an unfair comparison, but I still feel that a little bit more understanding and cohesion like this can go a long way in terms of engagement.

Let's take a look at my favourite scene in the film, which I think exemplifies this idea perfectly. This scene comes much later in the film, so let’s raise the spoiler warning to the next level.

Even if you go into this scene fresh, you can tell exactly where everyone is in relation to each other, including the zombies, without ever showing the two main groups of characters in the same shot. It's mostly told through the framing and angles of each shot, and the editing flowing naturally from where each character is looking to what or whom they're looking at, and all in the space of less than 20 seconds. On top of that, the "Oh fuck" moment is beautifully executed. First we have the classic countdown, second we have the rising tense music with the slow zoom in, third we have the established pattern with the shots cutting back and forth between the two characters, and then finally that pattern and hence the tension is broken with perfect sound mixing – following up the isolated, enhanced sound of the soda can being crushed with deafening silence. Setting up the pattern, building the tension, then releasing it to maximum effect.

Speaking of tension, I must also take a moment to praise how Train to Busan manages to frequently raise it without feeling too contrived and forced. Focusing on the station escape sequence once more, the few moments where more shit hits the fan all feel believable and organic given what has already been established in previous scenes. A zombie runs into Seok-woo because it's already established that area is swarming with them. A few survivors accidentally open a carriage full of zombies because they were in too much of a panic to take the time to remember which carriage they came from and look through the window. Zombies crash through the glass walkway where we saw Seok-woo and the Homeless man earlier. Later on, the darkness caused tunnels becomes a major plot point, and again this feels genuine enough because firstly of course trains would go through tunnels, and secondly because it plays on an already-established and reinforced attribute of the zombies.

Now, if there's one thing I know less about than visual storytelling in films, its writing and story structure in films, but what the hell, let's have a crack at it. There's a term going around some parts of the web describing an ideal form of story structure, popularised by Matt Stone and Trey Parker of South Park fame - "Therefore/but". It basically boils down to character-driven cause-and-effect, and that's Train to Busan in a nutshell. For example, let's look at what happens after that station escape scene. The main characters are now split across three carriages, and which carriages they wound up in was determined by their character traits and actions during the escape. The fact they are now separated sets up the tension for the next stage in the plot – some characters try desperately to cross zombie-infested carriages to their loved ones, while others try to prevent their crossing due to fear of becoming infected. The actions each group of characters takes is completely consistent with their actions and choices during the previous scenes including the escape, and the progression of events feels organic and natural, with a logical progression and order. Contrast that with a film I watched only recently but with some similarities - 30 Days of Night. In that, you also have a small group of survivors that slowly dwindle, but the progression of events feels disconnected, like you could jumble up a majority of the set pieces and it would have as much impact. If Train to Busan demonstrates the "Therefore/but" idea of storytelling, then 30 Days of Night demonstrates the "And then" idea, where story beats often aren't impacted by what came before, and don't really influence what happens next.

Continuing on with storytelling and structure, another film I watched recently that gave me a little bit of inspiration was Their Finest. In it, a character comments that while (or perhaps because) in real life a person's death may not feel like it has a point or meaning, in a story a character's death absolutely must. And again, Train to Busan nails this idea almost perfectly. As well as the numerous nameless victims littered throughout to remind us of the constant threat and tension, almost every death of a main character (see below) is effective because it's either caused by another character's actions, it has a clear and distinct impact on the story or another character's arc, or a combination of the above. We care about the characters because they impact the story, and we mourns their deaths because we see how they impact the remaining characters. Compare this again with 30 Days of Night. Setting aside isolated deaths like heroic sacrifices or characters wondering off by themselves and dying, there are a couple of moments when we're clearly supposed to feel something when the main character is forced to put others out of their miseries. But these scenes fall flat primarily because the characters that die aren't well established or impactful, and because the main character's choice to kill them doesn't really feel like it's in service of any sort of clear development or arc. They're trying to come across as emotional, but they haven't earned it.

But here's where I must raise the spoiler warning level to maximum, because, believe it or not, I'm going to talk about what I think was the weakest part of the film and some other major plot points in the last third. Yes, believe it or not I'm going to not only be slightly negative about this film which I adore, but I'll even get a little pretentious and suggest an improvement.  

So let's talk about The Homeless Man. 

Now, I must say up front that the character's weaknesses have nothing to do with him being homeless. Rather, the character doesn't completely work because it's lacking in a lot of the qualities I've mentioned above. While his fear, clumsiness, and shock are all solidly depicted visually, his actions don't feel completely consistent. Just before the station escape clip, he's calmly and stubbornly refusing to leave the walkway because he overheard Seok-woo on his phone organising an alternate escape route, but at that time he was visually shown as still being in shock and hysterical. During the escape, his choosing to help Seok-woo by covering the attacking zombie with his coat also doesn't feel completely consistent with his desperation and clumsiness.

A friend of mine has a theory that by setting up the Homeless Man as an intruder on the train, along with the editing fake-out just before we first see him, the audience associates him with the infection and thus gets us off on the wrong foot. I agree, and would add that on top of that he is reinforced as a hindrance and liability for the group on at least two other occasions. But these might not have necessarily been death knells of audience empathy, and could've served as functional set-ups for a redemption death. In fact, let's take a closer look as his death scene.

Now, on paper this should've worked – the once-cowardly character here sacrifices himself so Soo-ann and Seong-kyeong can escape, culminating in a bleak yet almost beautiful sequence in which zombies pour through the breaking glass like gushing water. And yet whilst its far more stylish than the deaths of both Sang-hwa and Seok-woo, it falls completely flat emotionally. The reason, I think, is that unlike the other two deaths this one feels completely one sided - the tragedy is the Homeless Man and his alone, whereas the deaths affected other characters. Sang-hwa's death worked because he bonded with Seok-woo and helped him grow as a character, and Seok-woo's death REALLY worked because he tragically died just at the moment he finally became a decent father to Soo-ann. The Homeless Man needed some sort of relationship and arc associated with another character, and I believe there's an obvious candidate: Seong-kyeong.

As you can see in the clip, just before The Homeless Man dies, Seong-kyeong looks back at him, as if (from a storytelling perspective) it's meant to be a pay-off for an emotional beat that wasn't fully established or fleshed out (perhaps, and I should stress I'm completely speculating here, in a scene or two that were cut for whatever reason). I mentioned above how Seong-kyeong appears to briefly react to The Homeless Man with disgust and weariness when he jumps in their carriage at the infected station, so one possibility could be that her look was her coming to realising her own misguided prejudice of him. Personally, while this this fits into the themes of classism well enough, I don't think this works psychologically for Seong-kyeong at this moment – she's undoubtedly still mourning her husband, and THAT'S what the filmmakers could play off. Remember that clip above with the soda can? Just before that sequence, The Homeless Man was lagging too far behind, and after he steps on the can it leads to the situation where Sang-hwa is bitten by a zombie and doomed, so it's entirely possible that The Homeless Man could feel responsible in some way for Sang-hwa's death (or for Seong-kyeong to be even more disgusted in him). So all we'd need is an extra scene to reinforce one or both of these dynamics, perhaps after they're kicked out of the "safe" carriage or as they're walking along the tracks. After an accidental glance, the two shy their eyes away quickly, her in disgust and maybe hatred, and him in shame and guilt, all in the space of even 5 seconds, and that might've been enough. That way, The Homeless Man's death becomes not just a heroic sacrifice, but a moment of redemption for him, and forgiveness from her

As an aside, a further nit-pick of this scene is the forced setup. While I praised Train to Busan for cleverly raising the tension in previous scenes, here the cause is a literal fiery trainwreck that comes out of nowhere . Again, might be minor, but a sense of contrivance (even subconsciously) probably didn't help. 

Looking over all of this, it looks like I’ve only pointed out tried-and-true storytelling techniques – body language, character interactions, motivated editing, slow motion, basic sound mixing, cause and effect storytelling – and haven’t really highlighted anything truly experimental or innovative. But that’s exactly my point, and perhaps the reason why this film isn’t being talked about more and why I feel it should. Train to Busan doesn’t really break new ground in terms of storytelling, and if anything sticks quite rigidly to established tropes and cliches of the zombie genre, and yet it’s still incredible. So many recent big-budget blockbusters fail in these basic areas that we need films like Train to Busan to show everyone how it’s done.

Train to Busan doesn’t reinvent the wheel. It remembers why the wheel worked in the first place.