In September 2023, a single phone call shattered my world. Much like the protagonist in the opening scene of Park Chan-wook’s No Other Choice, I thought I had it all. After overcoming a childhood steeped in financial strain, I finally secured a job that freed me from living paycheck to paycheck. My success exceeded my wildest expectations, given the position from which I started. I thought I made it. But then, everything was ripped right out from under me in an instant.

As Man-soo (Lee Byung-hun) explicates in the film’s opening act, Americans refer to losing one’s job as “getting axed.” He expands upon that idea by clarifying that it’s akin to having your head cut off with an axe. It’s a moment of humor, of which there are many in the film, but I seldom see people acknowledge the fact that losing your job quite literally feels like a death sentence.

As someone who struggles with anxiety, I’ve grown accustomed to always preparing for the worst. Naturally, I braced myself for the chance I might lose my job. I had saved more than a year’s rent and kept my resume up to date. I immediately applied for unemployment while scrounging for new job opportunities. What I wasn’t ready for, though, was the possibility that I may never find a new job.

I had it ingrained in my head from an early age that I needed to earn a college degree and gain experience to secure a good job. I had both. I worked for multiple Fortune 500 companies and established valuable connections. I did everything right—or so I thought. I worked hard. I stayed at the office late when needed. When I was sick, I continued to work from home. I jumped through hoops to prove myself to the people who mattered.

Initially, I thought I’d get through it. I’d collect unemployment while job hunting, and maybe the next gig wouldn’t pay as well, but at least I’d be employed again soon, right? I spent hours upon hours applying for jobs, ultimately losing count of how many applications I filled out. Last time I checked, there were at least 3,000 applications. As exorbitant as that number sounds, it is sadly not an exaggeration in the slightest.

One of the characters in No Other Choice shouts at her husband that the problem “isn’t losing your job; it’s how you deal with it.” And I have a knack for making light of my own misfortunes. I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of finding out I was losing my job just a few days shy of Labor Day. I thought I knew how to find humor in my hardships and make the best of my burdens. But this was one situation where I truly had no control.

There are many common misconceptions about unemployed people, and I was guilty of believing some of them until I experienced job loss myself. I used to think there was no shortage of jobs and that perhaps some people simply weren’t trying hard enough. But after working so hard to find a new job—sometimes feeling like my sanity was slipping—I saw how systemic and personal these challenges can be. The stigma surrounding unemployment is unfounded, and my ordeal underscores just how easily anyone’s stability can vanish.

I endured countless awful interviews. I’d plan my whole day around an interview only to have the person cancel on me at the last possible minute. Then, we’d reschedule, and they’d still cancel on me again. I had first-round interviews that I thought went well, only to be told that the position had already been filled or no longer existed. These are memories I’ve since tried to repress, because the thought of all the time and energy I wasted is exasperating.

I never would have surmised how much dehumanization I’d experience at the hands of recruiters and hiring managers. To make matters worse, in America, health insurance is tied to employment. When you lose your job, your health insurance is one of the very first things to go. And the people who are struggling to make ends meet are the ones who could presumably benefit from insurance the most. When someone is at their wits' end trying to navigate an impossible job market, people are quick to advise them to seek the help of a therapist. But in this country and economy, therapy is a luxury many of us cannot afford.

In addition to the cruel irony of being informed I was losing my job on the cusp of Labor Day weekend, there was an added layer of irony in the form of finding out September is Suicide Awareness Month. As fate would have it, in the subsequent months, I’d soon be calling the Suicide Hotline on a semi-regular basis. So, the helplessness and desperation that Man-soo bears is a burden I know all too well.

The fact that No Other Choice is a South Korean black comedy thriller with scathing satire and class commentary means comparisons to Bong Joon-ho’s Oscar-winning Parasite are inevitable. But both films are fantastic, and it would be a massive disservice to both works to argue that one is derivative of the other. In addition, No Other Choice is based on Donald E. Westlake’s novel The Ax, which was published in 1997, and Costa-Gavras adapted the novel into a 2005 film of the same name. Park Chan-wook made numerous changes to the source material, effectively modernizing the story and reflecting South Korean culture.

Part of what I love about No Other Choice, Costa-Gavras’ adaptation, and Westlake’s novel is that the dark humor works on multiple levels. For those of us who know what it’s like to look for work in a nightmare of a job market, it’s cathartic and painfully relatable. And while some of the humorous scenarios are indeed absurd, the absurdity escalates for viewers who’ve never experienced such a dilemma. For viewers who’ve always had a stable source of income, it’s a story with a ridiculous but hysterically entertaining premise. Either way, everybody’s laughing.

After being laid off, Man-soo devises a plan to secure a new position by literally eliminating his competition. One can argue that no sane man would resort to murder. But for those who’ve been in that situation, it unfortunately makes too much sense. I’m not saying I ever thought about committing murder in hopes of obtaining a job, but after my unemployment ran out and I lost the place I called home for the last four years, I truly felt like I was running out of options. I watched as the friends who tried their hardest to help with my job search ultimately lost their jobs as well. There was already no light at the end of the tunnel, but now it felt like the tunnel was crumbling and caving in around me, and what little oxygen remained was rapidly dissipating.

If it weren’t for my dog and the fact that I’m in a loving relationship with someone who stuck by me when I was at my absolute worst, I would have gladly done something to have myself thrown in jail. Because being behind bars is better than not being able to find work when we live in a world where you need money to survive. In prison, I’d have a roof over my head and food. And I know inmates have to work in prison, but at least someone would actually give me a job. Sure, it would have been difficult to give up going to the movies, but at least inmates get to watch movies from time to time, and there’d be no shortage of books to read. I never thought I’d reach a point where prison started to sound like paradise.

Considering my circumstances, No Other Choice, Westlake’s novel, and Costa-Gavras’ adaptation have been astoundingly cathartic. I’m aware it may sound problematic or disconcerting to find catharsis in a story where someone who’s unemployed commits murder. But part of what makes it so cathartic is that it’s something I can’t and would never do. Art provides us with an outlet through which we can channel our strongest emotions, and this story perfectly encapsulates my feelings of rage and frustration.

It’s healthier to watch fictional characters violently act out than to lash out in real life. And I’ve never subscribed to the belief that violent films inspire real acts of violence. I often think about a quote from Gilbert B. Rodman from his essay “Race…and Other Four Letter Words”, where he begs the question:

“Why is it that the only forms of popular culture that apparently have some sort of direct effect on audiences are the dangerous ones? No one seems to believe that more Meg Ryan movies will transform the United States into a land of sweetly perky romantics, yet the sort of virtual violence depicted in The Matrix could be cited as an “obvious” inspiration for the very real violence that took place at Columbine in 1999. Few people seem willing to claim that popular computer games like The Sims will produce a world of brilliant and creative social planners, but it’s almost a given that graphically violent games like Mortal Kombat will generate armies of murderous super predator teens bent on terror and mayhem… And in spite of several decades of pop songs extolling the virtues of peace, love, and understanding, we’re not a visibly kinder, gentler, more tolerant people. But we can safely blame Eminem’s brutal, homophobic, misogynist raps for corrupting our youth, poisoning our culture, and unraveling the moral fabric of the nation.”

Watching cheerful movies doesn’t always provide comfort and solace when things are bleak. Sometimes, watching a fictional character in a similar situation act out in ways you never would can feel oddly therapeutic.

I would wake up every single morning to no less than a dozen rejection emails in my inbox. How is someone supposed to cope with being told they’re not good enough on a daily basis? Or constantly being reminded how there will always be someone better? Watching the protagonist of this film come to the conclusion that the only way he can be the best candidate for the job is to kill his competition is hilarious because it sounds ridiculous, but it’s also rooted in a harsh and unfortunately relatable reality.

After losing my job, I sought out films about people losing their jobs, but most of them were too depressing. And the ones that were hopeful and inspiring were also painfully unrealistic. Until I discovered Costa-Gavras’ The Ax, Aki Kaurismäki was the only filmmaker I found who could balance the misery of financial woes and unemployment with the right dose of humor. However, his films lacked the aggression I often felt. The Ax had the story I had been yearning for. I only wish someone had introduced me to Westlake’s novel sooner.

I loved the source material so much, and I’ve never disliked a film from Park Chan-wook before, so I was immensely confident No Other Choice would end up being my favorite film of the year. Had I not already been familiar with the story, No Other Choice would have left me with my jaw on the floor. Park Chan-wook embraces the heart, soul, and dry humor of Westlake’s work, but puts his own spin on it, crafting something that feels very much his own.

Admittedly, there were moments where I was worried Park Chan-wook was straying too far from the source for my liking, but any alterations he made always paid off in the end. There are unique aspects of No Other Choice, The Ax, and the novel that make all three worth recommending in their own right—and that make it unfeasible for me to choose a favorite. However, if there’s one element of No Other Choice that makes it vastly superior to the previous adaptation, it’s Park Chan-wook’s magnificent visual style and command of his craft. Additionally, his adaptation is almost 20 minutes longer, allowing the story more room to breathe and providing the audience with more time to become better acquainted with the characters.

The film begins in autumn, which is thematically apropos because, to quote F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” This autumnal symbolism and themes of rebirth are prevalent throughout Park Chan-wook’s film. Right from the opening frames, Kim Woo-hyung’s breathtaking cinematography ensures the audience can feel the changing of the seasons, the slight chill in the air, and the lush greenery of the trees as the leaves begin to fall and cascade to the ground. Losing your job can feel a lot like this seasonal transition, slowly watching your money and livelihood disappear like leaves from a tree, while also trying to remain positive and seeing it as an opportunity for a fresh start.

Trees hold significant symbolic meaning in the film. At one point, Man-soo explains to his son that fertilizer consists of shit and piss, proclaiming, “the most beautiful things grow from filth.” This statement struck a chord with me, as someone who had been insisting that maybe hitting rock bottom would somehow end up being the catalyst for a brighter future. I typically end up feeling grateful for the things that go wrong in my life, because something better happens as a result. But I’m still waiting for something beautiful to blossom from all of this.

To add to the tree symbolism, our protagonist worked in the paper industry for a company called Solar Paper. After he’s given the axe, he seeks a role at Moon Paper. The lunar symbolism between the two names is also fitting, emphasizing the contrast between day and night as well as light and dark. It’s all about cycles, the lunar cycle, the changing seasons, the growth cycle of a tree, and the stages of starting out in your career and slowly working your way up.

One could argue that Man-soo should simply pursue a career in a different field. But when you’ve invested 25 years into your career, it isn’t so easy. Switching fields requires starting all over again from the ground up, and an entry-level position in this economy can barely support one person, let alone a family of four. Building a career is a lot like planting a tree. Man-soo planted the seed, watered and nurtured it, and watched it grow. If he starts over again in an entirely new field, it’ll take years to get back to the life he once had.

Even if Park Chan-wook didn’t modernize the story, Westlake’s novel still feels as relevant today as it did when it was written, perhaps even more so. Sure, now we have the technology to apply for jobs online and attend interviews over Zoom. However, that only adds to the dehumanization of the job-hunting process. There’s nothing quite like having a string of promising interviews where it feels as though the interviewer is finally treating you like an actual human being deserving of empathy, only for them to send you a generic, automated rejection email.

Every day on LinkedIn, I’d experience some twisted form of gaslighting. I’d exhaust myself applying for jobs with no real prospects in sight just to be tormented by the “Top Stories” section of the page, boasting about how unemployment rates were down. I always thought that when it came to social media, Instagram was the worst for people’s mental health. I now know that the real culprit is LinkedIn. It became a nightmare watching every newly unemployed person put on a hopeful facade about being “excited to see what this next chapter has in store,” only to see their optimism dwindle over time as their desperation intensified.

When I lost my job, the unemployment rate in the United States was a meager 3.8%, which seems insignificant compared to 14.8% in April 2020. However, what I soon learned is that unemployment rates only seemed so low because some people, such as myself, were unemployed for so long that their unemployment benefits eventually ran out. And people who previously worked six-figure jobs were settling for part-time gigs just to try to make ends meet. Anyone who hasn’t been unemployed in the last couple of years has been blissfully unaware of how horrific the market has become. And trying to confide in people about the struggle felt demoralizing because if unemployment rates are down, surely it can’t be that difficult to find a job, right?

I envy anyone who has never experienced the dehumanization that coincides with companies' downsizing efforts. With all the job listings I’ve looked at over the last few years, I’ve watched in real time as full-time positions converted into contract jobs, 1-year contracts turned into 3-6 month contracts, benefits have been reduced, and hourly rates have plummeted.

When companies conduct layoffs, the workload doesn’t lessen. The remaining employees who were fortunate enough to survive the layoff—but left wondering if they might be next on the chopping block—are left to assume the responsibilities of the people who won’t be replaced. That means more responsibilities without the appropriate raise in pay. The only people who benefit from layoffs are the ones at the very top. Wealthy CEOs want to give themselves raises every year at the expense of those of us lower on the food chain. We’re all disposable. And with the rise of AI, the threat of redundancy is even more imminent. One of the positive changes Park Chan-wook made to the story is the integration of the timely concept of machinery replacing manpower.

Along with co-writers Lee Kyoung-mi, Jahye Lee, and Dom McKellar, Park Chan-wook makes the story feel fresh and modern while expertly capturing Westlake’s sharp sense of humor. No Other Choice is uproariously and mordantly funny. One could complain about some of the dialogue being too on-the-nose at times, but it’s done in a way that feels intentional for comedic effect.

Park Chan-wook masterfully and meticulously tackles Westlake’s novel, and his filmmaking expertise is on full display. No Other Choice features spectacular editing, with incredibly inventive and stunning scene transitions, most notably its wildly creative match cuts. Kim Woo-hyung’s prowess behind the camera is really given the chance to shine here. The film features countless innovative shots. For example, at one point, the camera stays fixed to the bottom of a glass as a character is chugging his drink. And for a story this dark, the visuals are so vibrant, colorful, and well-lit. And Jo Yeong-wook’s beautiful score mirrors the fact that our protagonist’s daughter is a cello-playing prodigy in the making.

Lee Byung-hun delivers a pitch-perfect performance. The audience can truly sense his desperation, sheer helplessness, and the feeling of being pushed to the brink. The film ensures that audiences can empathize with the protagonist without ever explicitly rooting for him. Son Ye-jin is fantastic as his wife, Mi-ri. The chemistry between them lends itself to some effective moments of comedy, as well as flashes of palpable romance. The characters feel flawed and fully fleshed out, making the stakes feel even higher as we don’t want to see the family fall apart or lose their home.

At the Busan Film Festival in 2019, Park Chan-wook described this as a “lifetime project”, having wanted to bring this novel to the screen for over a decade before he even realized Costa-Gavras beat him to the punch. At the time, he declared, “I’ve not yet started filming, but I wish to make this film my masterpiece.” With multiple masterpieces under his belt, it’s doubtful that moviegoers will unanimously agree which film is Park Chan-wook’s masterpiece. But as someone for whom this story deeply resonates, this might just be it for me.

In the end, No Other Choice is a brilliant adaptation of Donald E, Westlake’s The Ax, a story that thematically falls perfectly within Park Chan-wook’s wheelhouse. It’s got all the bleakness, brutality, and thrills we’ve come to expect from his work. But Park Chan-wook also nails the dark, dry humor of Westlake’s writing while offering a fresh spin on the story and gorgeous visuals to boot.

There’s a reason why Donald E, Westlake’s story resonates so much, whether it’s in the form of a 1997 American novel, a 2005 French film, or a 2025 South Korean film. The satirization of capitalism and the struggle to survive in an ecosystem designed to keep the wealthiest people at the top, unfortunately, remains relevant and painfully relatable on a global scale. The sad reality is that most of us are closer to being bankrupt and homeless than we are to becoming millionaires. This story is the perfect form of catharsis, catering to our rage at a system that leaves us feeling uncertain whether to laugh, cry, or scream.

The decision to change the title from The Ax to No Other Choice was a clever one. Not only does it embody the anguish an unemployed person feels as their options run out, but it also echoes what the HR person would say to try to soften the blow: “I’m afraid we have no other choice; we have to let you go.” But above all, it’s a fitting title because the film is a wickedly hilarious, razor-sharp satirical takedown of capitalism and the corporate rat race. And sometimes, when you lose your job and your entire world falls apart, you have no other choice but to laugh.

No Other Choice screens at the New York Film Festival starting October 9th and will open in select theaters on December 25th before expanding everywhere in January.

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