[Parasite, 2019] – A Haunting, Sharp, and Brilliant Portrait of Class Divide

Introduction

There are films that entertain, and then there are films that linger long after the credits roll. Bong Joon-ho's Parasite firmly belongs in the latter category. It doesn't just tell a story; it opens a conversation we didn't know we needed to have. Winner of the Palme and the first non-English language film to win Best Picture at the Oscars, Parasite made history not with spectacle, but with substance. In this review, we'll unpack why Parasite struck such a universal chord, how it masterfully blends tone and genre, and why, even years later, it still feels uncomfortably relevant.

A Brief Overview

At its core, Parasite is about two families the wealthy Parks and the struggling Kims whose worlds collide in unexpected ways. What begins as a clever social infiltration gradually reveals something far more layered and tragic. Unlike traditional thrillers or social dramas, this film never stays in one lane for too long. It slips between comedy, horror, tragedy, and satire with such finesse that you're often unsure how to feel and that's precisely the point. Led by a stellar ensemble cast Song Kang-ho, Choi Woo-shik, Park So-dam, and Cho Yeo-jeong, among others the film is a showcase of restrained yet powerful performances. Nothing feels overplayed, and every line, glance, and silence carries meaning. Bong Joon-ho orchestrates the chaos with a quiet confidence, using light, space, and sound as narrative tools in their own right.

Plot Summary (Spoilers Ahead)

The Kim family lives in a semi-basement apartment in Seoul, barely scraping by on low-paying gigs and luck. Their fortunes seem to change when Ki-woo, the son, is offered a tutoring job by a friend. With a forged diploma and newfound hope, he steps into the immaculate home of the Parks a wealthy family living in a world so far removed, it might as well be fantasy. What follows is a slow and strategic infiltration. Ki-woo recommends his sister as an art therapist for the Parks young son, then engineers ways to replace the driver and housekeeper bringing his father and mother into the fold. None of them reveal they're related. The Parks, charmed and unsuspecting, welcome each new hire without question. But the dream starts to crack when the former housekeeper returns one rainy night. She reveals a hidden basement bunker beneath the house, where her husband has secretly lived for years. What began as a story about class becomes something much darker a survival tale tangled in guilt, shame, and desperation. As the two families fight for control of the narrative, and the house, the tension becomes unbearable. A child's birthday party becomes the stage for tragedy: a brutal outburst of violence leaves the daughter of the Kim family dead, the father missing, and the Parks shaken though not changed. The final scenes are quiet but devastating. Ki-woo dreams of one day earning enough to buy the house and rescue his father, now hiding in the basement. But even as he dreams, we know the truth: this escape, like class mobility itself, is likely a fantasy.

What Makes Parasite So Remarkable

More than any single scene or performance, it's the film's precision that astonishes. Every choice from the layout of the house to the color palette serves the story. The vertical structure of the sets is especially symbolic: the Kims climb upward (literally) toward opportunity, while the basement and the flood later drag them back down. It's a visual metaphor that's impossible to ignore. The tone is another triumph. The humor is dry and biting, never undercutting the drama but adding dimension. The horror doesn't come from monsters, but from circumstances the things people are forced to do just to survive. There's no clear villain here. That ambiguity is what gives Parasite its power. And then there's the sound the silence between words, the rain against glass, the quiet hum of a family slipping into someone else's life. It all adds up to something that feels more like lived experience than fiction.

Why You Should Watch This Film

Parasite is not just a film about rich and poor. It's about how those identities are shaped and how they shape us in return. It's about the invisible systems we live under, and the quiet, daily humiliations that come with poverty. It's also about what happens when those systems are no longer tolerated when people start to push back. But despite its weighty themes, Parasite remains endlessly watchable. It moves at a perfect pace, rewards attention to detail, and never lets go once it grabs you. Whether you're watching it for the first or fifth time, it offers something new a moment you missed, a connection you didn't catch before.

Who This Film Is (and Isn't) For

You'll appreciate this film if you:

• Enjoy thoughtful, layered storytelling
• Are interested in social issues and class dynamics
• Prefer films that leave room for interpretation
• Respect visual storytelling and subtle performances

But it may not be for you if you:

• Prefer clear-cut heroes and happy endings
• Find slow-building tension frustrating
• Are looking for lighthearted or escapist fare

Final Thoughts: ★★★★★ (4.9/5)

Few films feel as carefully constructed and as emotionally raw as Parasite. It's bold without being loud, honest without being heavy-handed. It doesn't offer easy answers, but it asks the right questions. And in doing so, it reminds us just how close we all live to each other even if the walls between us are thicker than they appear.

Whether you come for the story, the craft, or the social commentary, one thing is certain: you won't leave Parasite untouched. And maybe, just maybe, that's what great cinema is meant to do.