"Hope" review — Gonzo Korean sci-fi monster flick is somewhere beyond understanding
“We’ve got a bit of a situation here.”
For the overwhelming majority of films that I see, I can neatly discern how I feel about them and fit them into the boxes of “liked it (even slightly)” or “disliked it (again, even if only slightly).” There are the occasional films that find themselves somewhere in the middle, where I find myself rather split on a final verdict. However, those films ultimately feel more middling or boring than anything else. Very few movies, however, leave me truly stumped, where the concepts of “good” or “bad” seem to have no ontological meaning. They defy any sort of conventional appraisal, where the elements are so varied in their quality — from the breathtakingly inspired to the repellently abhorrent — that I enter a state beyond mere internal conflict. I transcend into a maddening purgatory of flip-flopping emotional reactions, both of deep admiration and deep aversion. I begin to second-guess my understanding of the art of cinema. They are the most confounding, obsession-inducing reminders that there are no limits to filmic expression. And now in theatres, as a truly shining example of this very rare quality of logical immolation: Na Hong-jin’s Hope.
Since it premiered at the Cannes Film Festival this May (as a fully fledged participant in the main competition, no less), Hope has been leaving a trail of smoke and rubble in its wake, eliciting frantic and divided opinions from reviewers. Set just south of the 38th parallel in the fictional town of Hope Harbour, South Korea, Hope follows small-town police chief Ko Bum-seok (played by Hwang Jung-min) after he is summoned by his second cousin, Ko Sung-ki (played by Zo In-sung), to investigate the death of a local cow slain (but not eaten) by a large predator. As Chief Ko soon realizes, that predator is no Earth-bound animal at all, but rather an extraterrestrial hell-bent on the destruction of Hope Harbour. But by the time he comes to this staggering revelation, the town is already being eviscerated by the monstrous form. The film specializes in delivering a whole lot of everything. Exhilarating chase sequences, incredible character introductions, questionable visual effects, extended monologues of scatological humour, incomprehensible lore dumps, gorgeously photographed countryside, horse-based combat, gunfights, and North-South Korea political tensions are just some of the many delights waiting to be had here. But with all this stuff crammed into the framework of the film, Hope ends up just being rather more confounding than anything else.
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| Photo via Neon. |
Hope, which has set the record for the most expensive South Korean film production of all time, gets off to a staggering, insurmountable clip, with a truly fabulous opening action sequence, a staggering 40-odd minutes of carnage that are nothing short of beautiful in their construction. Na masterfully builds sustained tension and excitement as Chief Ko runs both toward and away from danger (his levels of cowardice and bravery fluctuate rapidly throughout the ordeal) in the crumbling ruins of Hope Harbour. Up until the climax of this first leg of the journey, Ko always appears as one step behind the monster, witnessing the destruction (what beautiful destruction!) a second too late or from just too far away. He runs through a string of allies, who either flee the town or meet various gruesome ends. The monster is eventually unveiled, in all its rubbery digital glory (HUGE content warning for anyone allergic to questionably executed CGI: don’t go near this movie), as it bursts forward from a fishmonger’s shop. Jung Ho-yeon’s officer Im Sung-ae arrives moments later, as she gets maybe the greatest introduction of any character in a movie this year, as she tears into the film wielding a grenade launcher and perfectly tied-back hair. The town is eventually “saved,” but that second cousin Sung-ki is soon about to discover that there’s a whole lot more alien waiting for them in the woods nearby.
Hope is, if nothing else, an action spectacle in the truest sense of the term. The filmmaking exudes raw ferocity. The imagery and editing build a frenetic, relentless pace, which makes even the difficult visual effects (I’m running out of alternative ways to say “bad”) appear less egregious than they are in the moment. It’s the sort of film that plays best big and loud, so theatre screenings are an absolute must. Na and cinematographer Hong Kyung-pyo (the man behind the camera on Bong Joon Ho’s Parasite, Lee Chang-dong’s Burning, and Hirokazu Kore-eda’s Broker, to name a few) have a strong affinity for ultra-wide-angle lenses mounted on cameras that don’t stop moving. The gonzo impulse makes the action feel so tangible, as the edges of the camera’s view blur and smudge as the police cruisers dart through the narrow town streets. There’s a strong sense of immediacy to the filmmaking, which keeps the pace up far beyond the exceptional opening sequence. Despite running at over two-and-a-half hours, the film hardly ever feels its length. It’s a quality that works in the film’s favour up to a point. By the time the film gets abruptly cut off towards its ending — which feels like a terribly insulting sequel tease — I’m left wondering what all the time spent was for. If you had the audience so enraptured by the quality of the filmmaking and action, why not just properly wrap up the story?
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| Photo via Neon. |
The film’s lead cast mostly work as a collection of small-town hillbillies, oddballs, and in-over-their-heads police officers. Hwang Jung-min leads the charge as the quick-to-anger but profoundly inept Chief Ko. Zo In-sung makes for a pretty competent action star in how he portrays his farmer-turned-alien-hunter. The aforementioned Jung Ho-yeon absolutely rockets through the screen with her performance here. The leads bring a collective sincerity and humour to the film, which makes the action land all the better as it’s being blasted out towards the audience. There’s a smattering of other bit players here, too, which build out the film’s memorable supporting characters: a weird carpenter, an old man with stomach troubles, and a deranged mortician. But then the casting shifts from the straightforward to the strange. Michael Fassbender and Alicia Vikander are both inexplicably in this film as well, as well as a couple of other Hollywood-adjacent performers, but you wouldn’t be the only one struggling to find them during the actual runtime. The pair of married Oscar-nominated actors are coated in heavy layers of computer-generated makeup and alien prosthetics and are given a single scene of dialogue, where they rattle off cryptic dialogue in an alien language, which reaches deep into the uncanny valley. Others online have compared this to a Scorpion King-esque moment (IYKYK) for both Fassbender and Vikander, and I see nothing wrong with that assessment. The more the aliens are on screen, still and in focus, the worse the whole effect seems to be. It’s an attempt by Na to humanize the film’s antagonists, but without giving them much by way of screen time, it’s hard to care for the plight of the extraterrestrials.
And here my thoughts and opinions towards the movie shift from adorable to perplexed curiosity. Hope truly is utterly defiant in how it relates to any conventional notion of cinematic appraisal. It’s not a “so bad it’s good” movie—it’s often just a great movie—but one that makes choices so inexplicable they short-circuit the mind. The film belongs somewhere in the realm of the Wachowski Sisters’ Matrix sequels or Ruben Östlund’s Triangle of Sadness. Questions like “Is the film any good?” and “Is the main story interesting?” and “Is the craftsmanship remarkable?” seem to constantly elude satisfactory answers here. It’s more than just mere middle ground: it’s a film that oscillates between extremes. The closer the film gets to its sudden and jarring ending, where the movie seems severed more than it is concluded, Hope pushes beyond the bewildering and into the incomprehensible. And after 156 minutes, it just sort of ends in a way that left everyone in my screening loudly asking “What?” as they stared at the end credits. Perhaps, in another version of reality, there’s a version of this story that translates its wonderful first forty-five minutes into a succinct ninety-minute drama that went on to win the top prize at Cannes. Or, at least, it avoided having a VFX budget that looks ripe to burst.
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| Photo via Neon. |
Who knows where my relationship with Hope will take me. There are parts of this that I loved more than anything else this year, and parts that make me never want to consider it again. Don’t be surprised if this makes it on the “Best of 2026” list in December, or if I foreswear it entirely. Maybe a further chapter in the story will help smooth things over. Na has openly said that he’s written a sequel to the film, with every intention of shooting it once he gets the funding in place. Perhaps, in ten years, I’ll come to revere Hope as a masterwork of action filmmaking, warts and all. And if the story of Hope never continues, if the severed missing conclusion is never reattached to the stump, this is certainly one insane film to remain, for now, as the most expensive Korean film. I mean, an original R-rated sci-fi monster movie? Come on! But for now, I’m left with the frustrating state of in-between. Somewhere far beyond “good” and “bad.” Somewhere beyond the understandable. Somewhere beyond all reason. For the first time in my life, I need a cigarette.
Hope is now playing in theatres.
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