(Park Chan-wook, Korea, 2025, 139 minutes)
For nearly as long as I've been watching them, I've associated movies with books, and not just in a general sense, since every year offers hundreds, if not thousands, of literary adaptations, but in a more personal one, i.e. if I'm sufficiently interested in an author or filmmaker–ideally both–I'll read the book before seeing the film. It's especially helpful if I plan to write about it.
Reading the book beforehand helps me to understand the author's intent, which may or may not align with the filmmaker's, but it comes with drawbacks, too. The most obvious is that the film may not live up to the book, which happens more often than the film that surpasses the book, though it's unrealistic to expect every detail to make it onto the screen.
On the other hand, it's why we have so many limited series. You want the entire book spelled out for you? There are directors and streamers more than happy to comply. Length aside, another drawback is that the film may not hold any surprises, no matter how artfully executed, though if it's sufficiently engaging, knowing the outcome shouldn't spoil the show.
Before explaining why, I have to admit that this is the first book I've read by the author, though I've long been familiar with his birth name, in addition to his best known pen name–Richard Stark–and some of the films adapted from the Westlake/Stark bibliography, especially Point Blank, The Hot Rock, The Actor, Made in U.S.A. (though Jean-Luc Godard neglected to clear the rights), as well as The Grifters, the first-rate Stephen Frears neo-noir for which he adapted Jim Thompson's 1963 novel.
Putting his stamp on a work of literature, such as The Ax, is nothing new for Park, a former film critic who previously adapted a Japanese manga (Oldboy), a 19th-century French shocker (Thirst), a 21st-century potboiler set in Victorian England (The Handmaiden), and a spy story from the 1980s (John Le Carré’s Little Drummer Girl, his first English-language series).
The deeply-saturated look of the new film rhymes with his previous work, especially the high-contrast lighting and inky blacks that make the vibrant colors pop, but though he preserves the darkly comic tone, he loses the subtlety of Westlake's matter-of-fact prose by amping everything up to 11.
Granted, Lee Byung-hun (Park's Joint Security Area, Netflix's Squid Game) goes all in as Yoo Man-su, an upper middle-class paper mill manager who turns to desperate measures after his employer downsizes him out of his position and into a labor market with little need for his specialized services.
Man-su's solution is just as fiendishly clever as it is in the book–eliminate his competitors one by one–but Park has added lashings of sadism and gore that make for an exciting time at the cinema, while also giving the impression that this suburban father was always a murderer at heart; too much time on the unemployment line has brought his killer instinct to the surface.
That's fine as far as it goes, but there's nothing sadistic about Burke Devore in the original novel, and that's the point. None of this comes naturally to him, and it troubles his conscience, but not enough to make him stop. In fact, killing becomes his 9-to-5 business. Not a hobby, not a pastime, but a j-o-b, and his body count is even higher than that of his on-screen counterpart.
Park is such a strong visual stylist that it comes as little surprise that he ditches the first-person narration of Westlake's novel such that Lee does more showing than telling, so it's fortunate that he's such a magnetic performer. Son Ye-jin as Man-su's wife, Mi-ri, also makes a vivid impression as a woman who starts to put two and two together, whereas Burke's wife, the family's sole breadwinner, never figures out what's going on (she isn't stupid, just busy). She cheats on her husband, too, unlike Mi-ri, who also takes a job as a part-time dental assistant–but doesn't sleep with the boss.
I won't list every way the film differs from the book, though many of the changes don't register as improvements, not least the disturbing scene in which Man-su buries a victim up to his neck and force-feeds him to death.
All that said, No Other Choice always feels like a Park film. Something similar could be said about Stanley Kubrick's many literary adaptations, which revolved around–and even depended on–the creative liberties he took with the original material. And I do mean that as a compliment to the younger filmmaker, even if I didn't enjoy this particular take as much as, say, the lush and devious Handmaiden.
This brings me to Costa-Gavras's 2005 adaptation, Le Couperet, aka The Ax, which hews closely to Westlake's novel in all the ways Park's doesn't, right down to the narration. The look also differs from the latter, which has heightened touches, like the inventively-staged scenes of domestic surveillance. Costa-Gavras keeps everything grounded in reality, though he possibly loses too much of Westlake's drily comic tone through a combination of the writing and César-nominated actor Jose Garcia’s more noirish performance, akin to François Cluzet in 2006 thriller Tell No One.
Though I disagree with this categorization, The Ax has been classified as a horror story in some quarters. If Costa-Gavras's adaptation plays like a black comedy-noir hybrid, with Garcia's Bruno Davert (below) as the regular guy in over his head, Park's film really does plunge into horror territory.
Costa-Gavras's more literal approach does not, however, make for a dull time at the cinema. In fact, it's considered one of the Greek-French director's finest films, though it didn't make as much of an impact in the States as it did in Europe, or as much as earlier films, like 1969 Oscar winner Z with Jean-Louis Trintignant. (Costa-Gavras's son, Romain, who found fame through his provocative videos for M.I.A., has become a talented director in his own right.)
The affection between the couple in the earlier film (with Karin Viard as Marlène) is never in doubt, but there's more tension in their marriage and their children are older, whereas Park made the daughter a non-verbal, grade school prodigy, mostly I guess to emphasize the expense of cellos and lessons. With Man-su out of a job, everyone suffers–they even have to give up their Netflix subscription (how will they be able to keep up with Squid Game?!). Park also gives them two dogs, precious companions from which they have to part once Man-su's severance payment dwindles to nothing.
These added details may have made the made the film more appealing for some, but I believe the book got it right the first time, because Westlake trusts his audience more. My point isn't that directors shouldn't adapt books as they choose. They absolutely should. I just wish Park had put more faith in the author's text, and made fewer or better alterations. The narration, for instance, is no small thing, and was possibly intended to invoke or even subvert Jim Thompson's reliance on slippery, first-person narrators, not least since Westlake had adapted the author only seven years before.
Like most Park productions, No Other Choice has its pleasures, and it's possible my anticipation was too great due to the union of author and director, but it feels like a disappointment, especially compared to 2022's dazzling Decision to Leave. Not a major one, but a disappointment, nonetheless. Fortunately, Park brings it home in fine style, and that's hardly a minor matter, because it's as key to the narrative as the audacious premise.
Both films also boast excellent ensembles, particularly the actors who play the competitor-victims, like the two Ax standouts: German actor Ulrich Tukur (The White Ribbon) as a kindly, if despondent suit salesman with a bad combover and bespectacled Dardenne brothers regular Olivier Gourmet (The Son) who makes the fatal mistake of commiserating with the oddly sympathetic fellow who trespasses on his property, presumably to pick up job-hunting tips.
I can't imagine that either filmmaker believes that unemployed middle managers should start bumping off their competitors. Not that I've seen either make a statement to that effect, but I wouldn't say it's needed.
In the book, it's more obvious that Burke Devore's cruel, if practical solution is intended as satire, and that was bound to get buried in these live-action interpretations. Then again, it isn't a dream in Donald Westlake's novel. Burke never wakes up to find his slain competitors alive and well, and regardless as to which version of the story you prefer: Burke/Man-su/Bruno's solution, as horrible as it is, is also just a little…relatable.
After a one-day screening at the Pacific Science Center's IMAX Theater on Dec 8, No Other Choice opens for a regular run at SIFF Cinema Uptown on Thurs, Jan 1. Images from the IMDb (Lee Byung-hun at a paper mill, Cha Seung-won and Lee Sung-min as two competitors, and José Garcia), Amazon (The Ax cover art), and World of Reel (Lee and Son Ye-jin).
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