Eureka Video, out now

The plot is fairly simple at first, and nothing apparently new to longtime horror or thriller viewers: a witness to the actions of a killer, Do-Shik (WI-Ha-Jun)  is caught up in a cat and mouse chase with him trying to silence the witness – or, in this case, witnesses plural: Kyung-Mi (Ki-Joo Jin) and her mother, who are both deaf.

There ensues a stylish tour de force of pursuits and confrontations, with thoroughly believable protagonists, and completely terrifying villain – terrifying in his everydayness and ability to appear perfectly nice and harmless – great depth of meaning on several levels… It’s a frequently heart-pounding experience with all its chases, stalkings, reactions, conversational word-and-character-play, a couple of good fight scenes, some extremely brief moments of humour (you’ll be disturbed at how much you empathise and laugh with Do-Shik’s heartfelt frustrated expletive at one point early on), and several excellent twists. Not to mention some subtle nods to other earlier horror films. (And one “how did that manage to not kill the mood and pace?” repeat of The Shining’s axe through the door scene). 

The trope of a disabled – especially in terms of sensory impairment – protagonist in such a film is also not that new, whether it be Dorothy McGuire in The Spiral Staircase, or Audrey Hepburn in Wait until Dark, through to Mike Flanagan’s Hush, or last year’s Bird Box. All too often, though, abelist misreading and lack of understanding results in many such characters either being exploited as the weakened victims, or suddenly discovering that in this one situation their blindness/deafness/etc is actually their magic superpower- and minorities being “magic” is exoticism that doesn’t help.

Midnight, however, pretty much avoids all of this, although both actors are hearing actors, though it’s really not something that’s noticeable to a hearing or non-Korean viewer (they appear well fluent in KSL too.) Kyung-Mi and her mum are not weakened by their deafness, they’re are sidelined by the people around them. Nor are they resourceful and capable because or in spite of their deafness: they’re resourceful and capable because they’re both independent adult women. This is the clear subtext too: the ableist attitudes of bystanding characters, and the audience’s likely expectations are the surface text but really this is even more about the harms done and difficulties faced by any woman in an institutionally patriarchal society.

Here no-one listens to or believes the women’s story, ostensibly on a surface level because they can’t hear or speak (except in a scene towards the end where Kyung-mi is, as killer Do Shik points out, “quite eloquent” – and surely gives him more motivation to kill her), but in reality because they’re women. Worse, they’re women who are properly independent of men. This is also brought out by the other main female character, So-Jung held captive by Do-Shik, who lives with her brother Jong, a security guard manager who tells her how to dress and to be home early – none of which stops her being abducted, as Do-Shik isn’t looking for the scantily-clad or promiscuous, he’s looking for anyone in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Midnight, by accident or design, is probably a difficult film for women to watch, albeit for all the right reasons: It’s a masterclass in how perceived minority groups can be sidelined, gaslit, and ignored by those in the patriarchal majority. Here it’s women and the disabled, but it’s obvious how it applies equally to other ethnicities or the LGBT+. It’s a film that, frankly, takes a huge group of women’s fears and blends them into one character – the personality-chameleon Do-Shik – and the men who interact with him. Authority figures twice side with him, and even Jong, who would be the heroic saviour in an average movie, ditches that role when given a chance.

It does play to male fears too, though both on the surface level of how people like Do-Shik can harm their loved ones, and on how if you’re of a patriarchal mind the scariest thing is a resourceful independent woman with her own life. Maybe not a message the male audience wants to hear, but an important one. Incidentally, we often see Do-Shik in his van under purple lighting, and the opening scene shows he takes male victims too, which raises the spectre of biphobia, at least in terms of something else to scare the same type of patriarchal male.

The final twist really packs a punch about how far the ignored and disbelieved will go to be heard and recognised, and yet even it has layers, as it does carry a suitably silent and unsaid “yippee-ki-ay” with it.

There are, of course, plenty of regular scares and fears that will be thrillingly universal to audiences. Chases, sudden appearances of the Do-Shik, jump-scares, and so on. In fact one of the best things about the use of both sound and its absence in this film is that sharing Kyung-Mi’s deafness with silence means the jump-scares are visual, not cheated with blaring music, and they are all the creepier and more effective for it. Film is, after all, a visual medium, and it is such a relief to watch a horror film now that doesn’t go with blaring music to fake a jump.

Use of space and shot composition is great too, with debut director Kwon Oh-Seung giving us a blend of how a city can be huge or cramped, empty or crowded, colourful or drab, every time a character turns a corner, Hopefully this is the beginning of a career of classics, and not a one-hit wonder.

All the cast are excellent, especially both women and the much-advertised as “star of Squid Game” WI-Ha-Jun, as the relentless, ever-changing yet always recognisable Do-Shik. The character demands a great range, from physicality for long chases and the two fights, to niceness, to rage, to ice… And WI-Ha-Jun delivers it all by the bucketload, switching so apparently effortlessly that you know it must have been incredibly difficult. This guy is right up there with the best, and the character of Do-Shik is instantly the best horror villain since… maybe Hopkins in Silence Of The Lambs.

Picture and sound quality is excellent – maybe the best I’ve seen for clarity of text on mobile phone screens put into view – and the music score is suitably unobtrusive.

On the extras front, there’s relatively little by Eureka’s standards. There is a video essay by Travis Crawford, and a commentary by Kat Ellinger, plus, in the first 2000 copies, the collector’s booklet written by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas.

The video essay runs around 20 minutes and for some reason plays over the first 20 minutes of the film, occasionally interrupting it with posters and stills from earlier films discussed. It’s a nice little piece, giving the viewer suggestions on Korean horror films dating back to the 1940s, but sadly noting that many, even 1960s and 70s movies, were lost. Nevertheless it’s nice to be educated about how far back the nation’s efforts in the genre go, when most of us really remember availability in the West going only as far back as the late 1990s.

The commentary has some interesting things to say, and also some painfully obvious things, but sadly not much about the K-Horror genre, or the background to this film specifically. A fair chunk of the first half is more or less a roundup of reviews of the theatrical release, but it does get more interesting in the second half. Kat Ellinger, a new name in Eureka’s commentator team, has made several documentaries over the past few years on Hammer films and others from Roger Corman’s Poe adaptations to Joe D’Amato’s oeuvre, sounds a little uncertain as a full-length commentator, or perhaps less confident than in her various documentary appearances elsewhere. Nevertheless, it’s good to have new voice.

The booklet is a lovely concise piece getting to the heart of the film’s themes too, and it’s perhaps worth mentioning with such a new film (rather than a decades-old classic) that it’s  quite spoilery, so be advised to read after watching.

Verdict: This is a bold and thrilling new take on some established genre tropes, perfectly acted and beautifully shot and paced, and with considerable depth to its themes. The film is a solid 10, with the extras lagging behind slightly. Damn, if I don’t stop now and send it, I’ll keep writing til there’s a book on it. So many more things I could say about it. 9/10.

David A McIntee

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