I have no other choice but to say I was… underwhelmed. At every festival there seems to be one film adored by nearly everyone that I just can’t fully connect with. Last year at TIFF, it was Anora, at Sundance, it was Train Dreams, and at Cannes, it was Secret Agent. Now at 2025 TIFF, it’s No Other Choice. As with those films, I admired much of what Park Chan-wook is doing here, from its timely theme of economic anxiety, even more pressing now with the looming shadow of AI, to the structure, humor, and immaculate visuals that at times reach true mastery. Yet I often found myself frustrated, lost in diluting subplots and narrative detours, or simply not clicking with the protagonist despite acknowledging the strength of the performance.
This is the second adaptation of Donald Westlake’s novel The Ax, and Park approaches it with ambitions of crafting his own Parasite. The story follows Man-soo, a man laid off after 25 years of dedication, when Americans purchase his company. “No other choice,” they bluntly tell him after he pleads for their decision to be reconsidered. Months of failed attempts to re-enter the workforce push him into a radical plan: to identify his most qualified rivals and murder them one by one, so that he can secure a new position and maintain his family’s accustomed lifestyle.
It’s the kind of film that has cinephiles salivating for many reasons. Marking Park Chan-wook’s return to dark satire, it carries thematic richness that invites analysis and is paired with exhilarating execution. Camera movements and staging carry layers of meaning. Colors are used with precision, like the cold blues of the job-hunting scenes. Editing is rhythmic and sharp, generating laughs through match cuts while occasionally making us uncomfortable with a lingering shot. Park’s set-pieces, from the first murder sequence to the venom sucking bit, are executed with flair, and although they never reach the level of absurdity and intensity found in Parasite, they still spark more than a few laugh-out-loud reactions.
Fans of the director will also enjoy how unpredictable it is. The script avoids conventional payoffs, constantly subverting expectations in clever ways. Family discovery, murder setups, even minor character arcs unfold in ways that deliberately undercut cliché. Yet that very determination to surprise creates my first major issue. Like Kleber Mendonça Filho’s The Secret Agent, the choice to give characters their own lives outside the demands of the plot, as if each could be the protagonist of their own film, results in a sprawl of half-formed ideas. Subplots like the wife becoming a dental assistant or the extended focus on other job candidates don’t quite pay off, leaving the film rich in detours but thin in cohesion.
My second issue, and the more controversial one, lies with the protagonist. Lee Byung-hun is technically excellent, selling the black comedy by playing the jokes straight and handling the tonal shifts the script requires. But I struggled to fully buy him in this role. Some of this may come from my own association with his Squid Game character, but the early scenes here already left me unconvinced. His meeting with the Americans, where he repeats a rehearsed throat-cutting gesture, and his later failed interview did not make him feel like someone who had built a successful 25-year career through competence and merit. At times he even came across as unintelligent, which clashes with the meticulous way he later plots his crimes. Adding to this, the fact that he lives in such an enormous and modern house, even if inherited, made it difficult to see the film’s critique of the “everyday man crushed by capitalism” the story seems to suggest. If Park had instead drawn him closer to the sweat-and-tears worker who checked every box, excelled at his job, and was still discarded, the critique of capitalism would have landed with far more force.
As it stands, I left No Other Choice feeling the same way I did with Anora a year ago: delighted in moments, dazzled by its execution, but ultimately unable to join the chorus of praise. Small tweaks, tighter subplots, sharper character grounding could have pushed it into the masterpiece many others are seeing. For me, it remains an impressive achievement I respect more than I love.
This is part of Reviews On Reels TIFF 2025 Coverage. Due to the hectic rhythm of a film festival, it may be tweaked in the future.
Still courtesy of TIFF.