“Park adds a political and dramatic depth to his film which is just as powerful and striking as the mesmerizing aesthetics.”

The Fin takes place at some unspecified time in the future in which North and South Korea are reunified, yet life is not at all better for the people. Following an unexplained ecological apocalyptic event – already too far in the past for any of the characters to have any remaining knowledge of it – which turned the sky red and the oceans toxic, they experience an extended and severe drought. Furthermore, they are kept enclosed within massive surrounding walls, supposedly protecting them from the threat posed by the people living outside. Known as the ‘Omegas’, these outcasts underwent physical mutations as a consequence of their work in the polluted waters: they grew fins where their tailbones used to be. Hence, the Omegas endure a double punishment, with their bodies damaged and their presence vehemently rejected. Their group has become the new bogeyman used by the totalitarian regime controlling the Unified Korea to incite fear and obedience in its citizens, thus doing nothing more than replicating what North and South Korea have done for decades: exaggerating how dissimilar and frightening the enemy outside of the gates is to keep a firmer grip on the population within.

With the crystal clear political allegory imagined by its director Syeyoung Park, The Fin walks in the footsteps of major dystopias such as 1984. Many more references and genres are summoned in the short (under eighty minutes) length of the film, most of them related to the theme of a post-apocalyptic future and some even outside of cinema. Some characteristics of the world after the catastrophe, as envisioned by Park, evoke the video game series Death Stranding by Hideo Kojima – the inky handprints left by the Omegas, the urgency they express to get rid of the corpses of the deceased. Back to films, like such classics as La Jetée by Chris Marker with its still photos, or 28 Days Later by Danny Boyle with its extremely grainy look, the visual style and art direction of The Fin are driven by this idea that the voluntarily worn-out images reflect the very run-down state of the world – a goal achieved by Park in his own way through a remarkable use of various color filters depending on the location and the mood prevailing there.

This is how suddenly the film turns away from the red taint of daunting environmental pollution, and the grey look of bleak totalitarianism, to curl up in the completely unforeseen numbness of an indoor clandestine fishing store, conveyed by sweet blue and yellow hues. The inspiration for this comes from real – and legal – places in current-day Korea, allowing city inhabitants to live or relive the experience of fishing even though they are far away from the sea. In the middle of the hellish landscape of The Fin, this hidden refuge grants an escape not only through space but also time (going back to when fishing was doable); it grants access to a different reality. This also goes for the film’s tone, shifting all of a sudden towards the likes of Wong Kar-wai or Hou Hsiao-hsien, and living up to this inspiration in its creation of an ethereal and melancholic atmosphere.

Existing outside of space and time, this place makes it possible for people from segregated or even antagonistic factions to become acquainted. Such is the case for the trio composed of Mia, an Omega in hiding; another unnamed Omega who comes to visit her; and Sujin, a government employee tracking down Omegas. The story emerging in the final act from their encounter will be anything but an epic one with heroes, or a romantic one with star-crossed lovers, friends or allies. Returning to 1984 as a source of inspiration, the director turns it into a grim and dry tragedy, played by hopeless and in some cases brainwashed victims. Thus, Park adds a political and dramatic depth to his film which is just as powerful and striking as the mesmerizing aesthetics.