Hope ★★½

One can’t help but wonder how exactly Na Hong-jin’s fourth feature made it into Cannes competition, the cinematic standard of which is, according to artistic director Thierry Frémaux, so high that an equal share of female directors, Black directors, or any person from the underclass simply can’t satisfy it. But the Korean director-writer’s motley mix of old-school concepts, cinematic nostalgia, stylistic references, and a childlike joy of smashing things around somehow struck a chord with a festival notoriously snobbish towards genre works. With the latter, Hope enamors on multiple levels, continuously redefining itself as tribute, rip-off, and invigoration of a whole canon of classical genre film categories, from mystery to cop thriller to creature feature and sci-fi.

There are even some not-too-subtle geopolitical undercurrents enriching the straightforward story, set in the titular village of Hope Harbor, close to the demilitarized zone at the North Korean border. In this seemingly peaceful spot, a tiger is on the loose. Or so goes the first conclusion of wary police chief Beom-seok (Hwang Jung-min) as he takes a look at the farm animals literally ripped apart by some mighty beast. Experienced local hunter Sung-ki (Zo In-sung) and fierce policewoman Sung-ae (Jung Ho-yeon) help track down the mysterious thing. The impressive damage to adjacent buildings and infrastructure foreshadows something considerably larger whose violent appearance marks the first of several abrupt switches in pace and gear. 

What should be an early highlight of the rampant plot is actually a letdown, as the thing looks like something from a 2000s PC game, both on a technical level and in terms of character design. The monster is merely a trope, though a more refined one, just like its human opponents: the tough cop whose actions become more and more questionable, the tough guy from the area who might know more than he lets on, the girl cop Sung-ae (Hoyeon) — she’s the only woman in the whole film, which basically makes her immortal. But according to movie logic, the same applies to the trio of creatures portrayed by Taylor Russell, Alicia Vikander, and Michael Fassbender. 

As the moral stakes gradually reverse and the humans start to look more like merciless hunters than heroes, the creatures grow into actual characters. After all, they might not be what Na made them seem by playing well-worn sci-fi tropes. Buried underneath the excessive action pieces may be a more intelligent film about human hubris and hostility, but whenever it seems to materialize, the rudiments are flattened by yet another chase scene. Just like the human protagonists are driven by rapidly escalating events to react with military-level violence where diplomacy might be called for—the proximity of that demilitarized zone carries some heavy symbolism here—Na time after time gives in to the pull of visual spectacle. 

Equally indecisive is the tone of the choppy narrative, which feels at times pompous, burlesque, tragic, and cartoonish, considering the near-indestructibility of certain human characters. But the alternately grandiose and ridiculous alien action affair holds one final twist that only bodes as it becomes clear that the megalomaniac narrative threads will never tie into a nice bow, not even in the 160-minute runtime: this is only the first part of a planned franchise. You could have researched that, of course, but you might not have if you watch more films at Cannes per day than you sleep hours at night. Maybe that foreboding title is mainly an allusion to the vague anticipation left for the second part of this unpredictable rampage.