Recently, the huge success of Parasite has shone a new light on Asian cinemas, drawing global (read: Western) attention to the productions of the region. This context of globalization, where new technologies in form of streaming platforms have made the world a more accessible place allows for us to wonder how interconnected we are, where to find shared experiences. In this sense, it would be particularly interesting to see how transnationalism is reflected in the themes and topics of contemporary Asian cinema. With the East Asian region being home to three of the most economically dynamic nations in the world, representations of modernity and capitalism in cinema would be good to explore in that global audiences can relate to and position themselves within these topics, and yet a rooted local context and history specific to Asian audiences can be found. I will be examining three different films, All About Lily Chou-Chou (2001), Parasite (2019) and Okja (2013), and my question will be: how do these films make the detriments of capitalism visible through narration and mise-en-scene? I argue that these films debate capitalism as a “cure” through a juxtaposition of its supposed benefits and its real outcomes. We will first look at the idea of capitalism through the lens of the contagion narrative and looking at contexts of economic growth in East Asia; then we will look at throw these films use children as a vehicle to express the way capitalism has normalized the dehumanization of others, and finally, we will look at the way space is organized as a theatre where we see these impacts happening.
In the 1980s outbreaks such as the HIV epidemic, along with accounts of newly surfacing diseases began to appear with increasing frequency in scientific publications and global mainstream media, introduced the concept of ‘‘emerging infections’’ which informed film tropes of the coming decades[1] (Wald, 2). The most prominent trope emerging from this context is what Wald terms the “outbreak narrative” [2] or the “contagion narrative”. This trope can be used in film to comment on larger domestic and social structures in that it points out the following: the incapability of powerful ruling forces to protect its people, who will be the first to fall when situations are dire (highlighting social inequality, vulnerability), and human resilience in the face of widespread dire situations. It is important to note however that the term contagion does not solely refer to physical sickness: the term also corresponds to an ideological spread, a causing moral and ethical illness[3]. This interpretation will be used for the rest of the paper, as unlike physical illness, moral and ethical decay are aliments that are much harder to get rid of. However, both the medical and epistemological definitions of contagion draw attention to simultaneous fragility and tenacity of social bonds[4]. The outbreak narrative characteristically sets up the contaminant as needing to be tracked down by Western science, heroicising western knowledge, scientists and doctors and adversely linking the contagion to the unknown, usually pinpointing the source of the spread among non-Western, non-white populations and/or rural populations, which both racializes and temporalized the contagion as it points to the danger of “putting the past in (geographical) proximity to the present”[5]. In this sense the contagion narrative in film can become a remnant of colonialism, especially when we look at who is blamed for it: the cure finding process is almost Orientalist in its practice of othering and promoting the fear of the unknown, which is dangerous in its foreignness and must be controlled by the imposition of Western knowledge. Hence, we can interpret capitalism as a “cure” to the global sickness which is underdevelopment/poverty as it is regarded as a “proper” form of “civilization” and “modernity”, taking over and eradicating what was there before. But as we will see in the rest of this paper, this “cure” is really just another sickness in disguise.
The 1990s and early 2000s in Japan were characterized by economic turmoil due to the breaking of the economic bubble which had ensured Japan’s unprecedented growth and geopolitical power following the devastation of WW2 on the nation. The economic disturbance occurred at the same time as (or caused) political and social instability: moral panic over the behaviours of Japanese youth occurred in the latter part of the decade, caused by incidents such as the discovery of a fourteen-year-old serial murderer of children, known as ‘‘Youth A’’ (Shōnen A) in 1997, the terrorist attack perpetrated by the Aum Shinkrikyo cult, an observed rise in violent bullying in middle and high schools, and the discovery of young, middle-class girls selling companionship (sexual favours) to older men in exchange for money[6]. This latter incident was blamed on “commodity fetishism of contemporary Japan”[7], and the rest argued to be a result of the weakening of “essential Japanese values and norms”, especially regarding respect for authority and sexual mores of women and youths resulting from the fall of Japan as an “enterprise society”, permeated by the “methods and principles of labour-management deployed in corporate Japan” such as the idea of meritocracy, which it had been since the 1970s[8]. South Korea on the other hand, while not having undergone sudden economic turmoil like Japan, was also able to witness unprecedented economic growth during the Cold War era, which experts have termed the “Korean miracle”[9]. This “miracle” is often cited by proponents of modernization theory as proof that it works, meaning that other countries can pass through the same stages of development, that by adhering to neoliberal capitalist systems of production and trade, they can access the same economic result. What is not often shown however is how the South Korean political postwar context characterized by violent dictatorships [10], as well as American intervention, played important roles in this “miracle”: political leaders and chaebols (South Korean industrial conglomerates) directly supported US strategic and financial interests during the Cold War era. In return for supplying the US with weapons for other proxy wars around the region (notably the Vietnam war) and allowing US military presence on the peninsula, the US provided South Korea with the finances, technology and infrastructure to kickstart and accelerate rapid industrialization[11].
It is in these contexts of domestic turmoil and globalization that All About Lily Chou Chou, Parasite and Okja were produced and released, all of them representing the moral decay resulting from the penetration of neoliberal capitalist practices and values into society and characterized by the use of children in order to vehicle this point.
The deterioration of human morals seen in the behaviour of the child and its interactions with others in these movies can be seen as the first symptom of the contagion that is capitalism on human society. The “child” is recognized as a historically specific location of social anxieties, in form of adherence to or deviation from national-cultural narratives[12], and the concept of the “wild child” best illustrates this: a figure historically represented in Western medical journals, the concept of the “wild child” has been used to find out the separation between nature and culture in the study of human development[13]. This concept is used by Arai to highlight the relationship between the figure of the “child”. “history” and “Japanese culture” [14]. The children in All About Lily Chou-Chou speak to this most plainly in their unexplainable violence, social rot taking the form of “evil children”, a play on this concept: “unchildlike” behaviors speak to a larger social anxiety rooted in a particular socio-economic context, as these children have no respect for authority nor for societal norms and will violently take their angst out on everyone including their peers. The scene where Yuichi and his friends witness a group of upperclassmen violently racketeer a middle-aged man for money and spare no thoughts towards the man when they steal the money for themselves points towards a breakdown of “the residual structure of collective morality”[15]. When we contextualize the film, we can attribute this violence to a “de-socialization”[16]of which Yuchi and Hoshino’s obsession with Lilly Chou Chou is proof: with economic stagnation and the consequent devaluation of the meritocracy, Japanese youth were no longer able to find meaning in the capitalist system, one where social and economic ascendance are main goals, and in retaliation, they rebel against societal norms either through violence or through fixation on popular culture. We see this in how Lilly Chou Chou is hailed as a “saviour” by the children and other fans, as the singer is a way for them to dissociate from the loneliness, violence and sadness they experience daily.
In terms of desocialization resulting from social anomie, Parasite’s Park Dasong is another good example: rather than being physically violent, it is his nonchalance towards the Kim family who work for his and his “Indian mania” that speak to a certain internalized apathy. We can see Dasong as a “child of capitalism” rather than a victim of its failure like Yuchi and Hoshino in the sense that while his obsession might be a form of social anomie resulting from trauma (in form of the seizures he got from his “ghost sighting”), this interest in commodified Native American culture originated from and is nurtured by his social status, giving him proximity to Western ideas and practices. His mother’s reference to him as an “otaku” is correct in that he (like his parents) only fixate on specific aspects of what they perceive as American culture, making them modern, but are indifferent to the broader social and historical contexts of this culture[17] and in the case of Native Americans, the violence it is situated in. This proximity speaks to a system of global neocolonialism where the United States reigns supreme both economically and ideologically, their power propelled by the system of capitalism. As a child benefitting from both these systems, Dasong’s world is a bubble dictated by wants rather than needs, his cosmopolitanism or Americanization is a way to be removed further from the inequality that his (and his family’s) existence perpetuates. Though it is not his fault, he is violent in his perpetuation of inequality in that he does not “see” it.
In contrast, Okja draws a line between what is considered to be more instinctive human behavior, in this case a propensity towards sympathy, kindness and socialized human behavior (resulting from capitalist ideologies) which leans towards apathy, lack of emotion towards suffering. Mija exemplifies another kind of “wild child” in the sense that children are the more “pure forms of the human”, only reproducing what they are exposed to. We can speculate that her ethical purity, shown throughout the movie in her steadfast desire to save Okja and her firm love for her rural home despite being exposed to the wonders of capitalism in form of the urban centers of Seoul and New York, is due to her living in a non-capitalist, non-urban environment[18]. In her communication with and deep connection with Okja, considering her a friend and a member of her family, Mija is an “ethical subject”[19] who respects all forms of life in contrast with members of the Mirando company, “unethical subjects”[20] who abuse Okja, taking pieces of her meat and forcefully mating her to another Super Pig, consider her a commodity intended to maximize production efficiency and profit[21]. Mija destabilizes the modernist idea of capitalism as “cure” to rurality as she is not ideologically corrupted with the contagions of capitalism and globalization and it is this lack of contact with the system that ensures her moral purity.
On top of drawing a line between pre- and post-capitalist human morals, these films also use space as a way to better dramatize the hierarchies produced by the capitalist system of wealth production. Spaces become “modern” when they are in accordance with the hierarchy of globalization and capitalist ideologies, seen in their equation of better living to urbanization. The use of mise en scene in the juxtaposition of the “modern” and “non-modern” space speak to both local and global hierarchies.
In Parasite, access to space shown in mise en scene: the division between rich and poor is shown in the verticality of shots around the Kim’s home and neighborhood, connoting the immense difficulty of social ascension through a feeling of claustrophobia, contrasted with the horizontality of the shots of the Park’s home. The minimalism of the Park’s interior design and clean-cut architecture allowing for maximum luminosity and freedom of movement, speaking to their modernity, is contrasted with the small, cluttered, dirty, poorly lit underground apartment the Kims live in, which they nonetheless work very hard to keep as their economic status doesn’t allow for anything else. This expansiveness of space becomes synonymous with that of privilege, of possibility, which almost allow us to forget how these large, clean open spaces are constantly maintained through the labor of others. A hierarchy is established in this architectural difference, as well as the location of these homes: while the wealthy inhabit homes at the top of a hill, the less fortunate literally live on the bottom, making their only goal in life both physical and economic ascension. To further this division, the idea of cleanliness associated with class, seen in Park Dongik’s constant references towards the “smell” of the Kim’s which comes from their poor living conditions, and in a larger sense, their social status, and his constant warning not to “cross the line”. This separation between domestic/private and work/public dehumanizes the Kims, renders them solely objects of labor exploitation, to the point that even when they lose their home, they are expected to work the next day like nothing happened, keep their pain away from work as elites relying on the capitalist system of production know that if laborers are able to establish ties going beyond those of service providers, that they will be forced to humanize them, and thus their suffering will no longer be invisible, making it harder to exploit them. There is then a constant battle against the encroachment of the public into the private, which becomes that of the uncivilized onto the modern as this would destabilize the social hierarchies upheld by capitalism and even the system itself. Closely associated with family and children, the home is a space ideologically represented as refuge, but Parasite underlines how the unequal social systems perpetuated by an exploitative mode of economic production are interconnected and cannot remain separate between public and private life.
In Okja this idea of encroachment is even starker, portraying a separation between the “modern” and the “uncivilized”: when Mirando representatives visit Okja, they are distinguished not only by race, one of them being white American, but by a language barrier (speaking English), evoking awe in Mija who is fascinated by their unfamiliarity. the Mirando representatives encroach on her territory, her home, not only physically but ideologically, as their subsequent taking of Okja is a sign of the incompatibility between capitalism and the “human” (in the form of untouched nature and Mija’s purity) as it is in the system’s nature to exploit and take forcefully. To further demonstrate this separation, we can expand this logic beyond the site of the home – vibrant greens and blues of the plants in Mija’s home forest emphasize it as a “de-capitalist”, “de-modern” utopia cut off from the outside world[22] and hence untouched by capitalism and globalization is contrasted with shots of urban Seoul, characterized by sterile whites, dark blues and grays of modern infrastructure, and overall a tinted grey, such that it looks dull compared to the forest. Lastly, we see how capitalist ideologies around modernity and urbanization to establish certain spaces as neo-colonies. In All About Lily Chou Chou, in the scene where Yuchi and his friends travel to Okinawa, we are removed from the civilization of the city: we are faced with less noise, less traffic, less people, and instead an abundance of beaches, trees and rivers. Okinawa is portrayed as a tropical/rustic getaway from city life different from anything the boys have ever known, as seen in their amazed expressions, showing how despite Okinawa being a part of Japan, it is foreign to those who reside in the urban, “modern” spaces of the mainland: this is a nod to Japan’s imperialist past, and Okinawa’s status as a colonized territory, as despite Okinawans being included within the Japanese nations state, the territory and its culture still remain outside of generally accepted interpretations of Japanese identity[23]. This difference in “varying degrees of modernity” reveals the influence of the global capitalist system on the non-Western world[24].
In both films, we see how the invisiblized violence caused by capitalist systems of production create and reinforce the façade of the prosperity and order it is said to bring[25], not only in the constant attempts to either separate the civilized from the uncivilized, but in the way capitalism seeks to devour all in its path. In Parasite, on the other hand, references towards indigenous culture, seen for example towards the ending during Dasong’s birthday party, where Dong-ik plans a game of “Indians and Sheriffs” as a surprise, show how adherence to the system of capitalism and accompanying Americanization not only perpetuates the oppression of the lower class but that of other marginalized populations[26]. Their ignorance, masked as worldliness, is a result of their allegiance to the neoliberal capitalist system as by continuing this system of wealth production they maintain a local social hierarchy as well as a global one, maintaining American neocolonial global supremacy. The conditions of capitalism and neoliberal ideologies it brings are deeply enmeshed with neocolonialism: the examination of localized social hierarchies based on economic status draws attention to how the capitalist practice of the extraction of value from the non-center, hierarchizing people into a relationship of laborer and consumer, can be seen on both global and national scales.
In conclusion, in this paper, we have seen the ways in which Parasite, Okja and All About Lily Chou-Chou show how the dehumanization and violent exploitation of others is normalized and ingrained into human relationships due to capitalist systems, in that the marginalized/the poor/the subaltern is both necessary and replaceable in this system of wealth production. By placing these films in their historical, economic and social context we have seen how capitalism in the form of ideologies of modernity, urbanization and wealth is an ideological “contagion”. Then by taking a closer look at how these films portray this idea in sites of the child and the home, we see just how transnational these movies are: despite these films being rooted in a different geographical and historical context, the viewer is still able to see and relate to the effect’s capitalism has had on human society, as neoliberalism has been marketed as global “cure”. Through these movies, we are able to contest the idea of modernity being an “end-all” solution, as the resulting hierarchies and social relations seem to only benefit a few and will continue to do as long as these ideologies are in place. On an ending note, it would be interesting to reflect on the bittersweet, open endings of Parasite and Okja, which lead us to wonder how youth in Asian cinema can not only speak to a collective human present, but to possible futures.
Abena Somiah is a fourth year international student from Ghana, majoring in Contemporary Asian Studies and double minoring in Diaspora and Transnational Studies and African Studies.
Bibliography
Iwai, Shunji. dir. All About Lily Chou Chou. 2001; Rockwell Eyes, 2001. Box Office
Bong, Joon-Ho. dir. Parasite. 2019; CJ Entertainment, 2019. Box Office
Bong, Joon-Ho. dir. Okja. 2017; Netflix, 2017. Streaming.
Morris-Suzuki, Tessa. “Culture”. In Re-Inventing Japan: Time, Space, Nation. Pp. 60-78. New York: M.E. Sharpe, 1997.
Arai, Andrea G. “The ‘Wild Child’ of 1990s Japan”. In Japan after Japan: Social and Cultural Life from the Recessionary 1990s to the Present, Ed. Tomiko Yoda and Harry Harootunian, pp. 216-238. Durham: Duke UP, 2006.
Yoda, Tomiko, “A Roadmap to Millennial Japan”. In Japan after Japan: Social and Cultural Life from the Recessionary 1990s to the Present, edited by Tomiko Yoda and Harry Harootunian, pp.16-53. Durham: Duke UP, 2006.
Park, Ju-Hyun. “Reading Colonialism in ‘Parasite.” Accessed 10 Oct. 2020. https://tropicsofmeta.com/2020/02/17/reading-colonialism-in-parasite/
Lee, Dong-Hoo. “Transnational Film Project in the Changing Media Ecology.” Asia-Pacific Film Co-Productions, (2015) pp. 155-176. doi:10.4324/9780429450457-9.
Wald, Priscilla. “Introduction”. In Contagious: Cultures, Carriers, and the Outbreak Narrative. Pp. 1-28. Durham: Duke UP, 2008.
Glassman, Jim, and Young-Jin Choi. “The Chaebol and the US Military–industrial Complex: Cold War Geopolitical Economy and South Korean Industrialization.” Environment and Planning A, vol. 46, (2014): pp. 1160 – 1180
[1] Priscilla Wald, “Introduction” in Contagious: Cultures, Carriers, and the Outbreak Narrative. (Durham: Duke UP, 2008), p.2
[2] ibid
[3] ibid
[4] Wald “Introduction”, p.13
[5] Ibid, p.7
[6] Tomiko Yoda, “A Roadmap to Millennial Japan,” in Japan after Japan: Social and Cultural Life from the Recessionary 1990s to the Present, edited by Tomiko Yoda and Harry Harootunian (Durham: Duke UP, 2006), p.21
[7] ibid
[8] ibid
[9] Jim Glassman, and Young-Jin Choi, “The Chaebol and the US Military–industrial Complex: Cold War Geopolitical Economy and South Korean Industrialization.” Environment and Planning A, vol. 46, (2014): pp. 1161, doi:10.1068/a130025p
[10] Ju-Hyun Park, “Reading Colonialism in ‘Parasite.” Accessed 10 Oct. 2020. https://tropicsofmeta.com/2020/02/17/reading-colonialism-in-parasite/
[11] Jim Glassman and Young-Jin Choi, “The Chaebol and the US Military–industrial Complex: Cold War Geopolitical Economy and South Korean Industrialization.” Environment and Planning A, vol. 46, (2014): p.1177
[12] Andrea G. Arai “The ‘Wild Child’ of 1990s Japan,” in Japan after Japan: Social and Cultural Life from the Recessionary 1990s to the Present, Ed. Tomiko Yoda and Harry Harootunian (Durham: Duke UP, 2006), p.216
[13] Arai, “The ‘Wild Child’ of 1990s Japan,” p.218
[14] ibid
[15] Tomiko Yoda, “A Roadmap to Millennial Japan” in Japan after Japan: Social and Cultural Life from the Recessionary 1990s to the Present, edited by Tomiko Yoda and Harry Harootunian (Durham: Duke UP, 2006) p.38
[16] ibid
[17] Ibid, p.37
[18] Dong-Hoo Lee, “Transnational Film Project in the Changing Media Ecology.” Asia-Pacific Film Co-Productions, (2015): pp. 166, doi:10.4324/9780429450457-9.
[19] Lee, “Transnational Film Project in the Changing Media Ecology”, 168
[20] ibid
[21] Ibid, p. 169
[22] Lee, “Transnational Film Project in the Changing Media Ecology”, 166
[23] Morris-Suzuki, Tessa. “Culture” in Re-Inventing Japan: Time, Space, Nation. (New York: M.E. Sharpe, 1997), pp. 71
[24] Lee, p.166
[25] Park, “Reading Colonialism in ‘Parasite.”
[26] ibid