Seoul Station: Bloodthirsty Humans

I’ve never been a fan of the idea that art has to be uplifting, encouraging, hopeful in its waining moments. I don't think it's inherently and objectively worse either. While those stories may deliver a fondness in our hearts that sticks with us far more meaningfully than a conclusion that leaves us in stunned silence, aghast at what we have just witnessed, I don’t believe there isn’t a place in artistic creation for the latter. Good art makes you think, it doesn’t tell you what to think. Even if it makes you think in a darker place than you’d like.

Seoul Station is an interesting ride that features no working trains, no Busan, some bad humans and a whole lot of undead. The animated prequel to the 2016 live-action Train To Busan both of which were directed and written by Yeon Sang-ho doesn’t quite hit the dizzying heights of it’s successor and will certainly put off the casual viewer. Those of us who can appreciate Yeon’s irritated voice in times of pointless divisions and hostilities will be able to empathize with how he feels. Sometimes the morose social realism can reach further than the idyllic most positive conclusion.

In typical Yeon Sang-ho style it’s presentation and plot has plenty of hard-hitting, uncompromising narrative beats and it’s characters are not particularly the most likable people, I like to think of them as “believably flawed humans” and I’m certainly a proponent of putting characters such as these in precarious positions as it really tests the viewer’s resolve. Are they worth wanting to succeed? In a way it tests the limits of our own humanity asking of the subject to put themselves in a most likely unfamiliar place. It’s in the character design that Yeon adds a level of moderate realism. Similar to Satoshi Kon’s works less in raw style but more in execution there is a remarkable reality through which the characters features are portrayed, they feel more real and less overly stylized as is often found in the medium of animation. Actual people that we could come across in our daily lives.

While it does find itself clinging to a couple of narrative crutches a little too often (FREAKIN’ CELL PHONES) it’s what Yeon Sang-ho does with his more “simple” stories that gets the most out of them. It lies in his ability to space the important events, plot reveals, emotional beats, and use the cycle with variation that he excels at. Like his previous efforts, particularly in the space of aeni (Korean animation, think “anime” but attached to Korea rather than Japan), Yeon will absolutely rip your heart out to make his point but does so without bashing you over the head repeatedly throughout. So at least your brain is still intact, even if your heart isn’t.

Something I’ve noticed over the years of watching Yeon Sang-ho’s feature films, both animated and in live action, is that while his live action cinema tends to use the aggression and pathos found in the beginning and middle thirds of his works and sprinkle in a meaningful and earned dose of sentimentality and sincerity into their final thirds and conclusions. Whereas his animation works even further reinforce that “take-no-prisoner” approach of the first two arcs of the respective story.

The tone is one of eerie and powerless misery. There’s a foreboding and overwhelming feeling of dread, not necessarily in the psychological horror sense, but in the imminent large scale disaster about to unfold, the populace unable to do anything to stop it. In fact maybe they secretly want it too. Their lives unfulfilling, unable to go anywhere they desire, if they even desire anything anymore. Hold onto what’s important to each of us, but what that might be won’t be as altruistic and greater-serving as it might have been in a stable, functioning society. Conveyed through and uneasy color palette of pavement grays and spotlight neon. 

And so we see ourselves as not worthy of saving. Not bothering to try fixing anything because it’s not up to us anyways. We could move heaven and earth and it still wouldn’t make a difference, they’ll preserve and consolidate their power as they always do, as they always would. Defining the things that matter to us in the wake of the fallout a much more morally cynical and selfish proposition.

A place I would have liked to see the film stretch its legs a bit more is not only it’s use of but it’s quality of soundtrack. In this regard it’s a bit minimal to a fault. Relying on the quality of writing and characterization to offset the inconsistent quality of animation is difficult enough, but to lack a memorable score that makes up for it is a missed opportunity as not only would it enhance the importance of scenes, scenes in relation to characters and create a tone and atmosphere that doesn’t have as much dimension as it could across the board. Ultimately what it is used is serviceable but it feels like a genuine missed opportunity. Especially as everything utilized for the sake of tone in the film outside of music is generally solid if unspectacular. 

My personal interpretation of this work is that it’s not necessarily the apocalyptic event that would kill us. It is the apathy and hopelessness towards life in general that makes us more susceptible to a global crisis threatening our existence as a species. Moral decay has already begun to set in long before the earth-altering event, creating a society that on an internal level is collectively dead on the inside. The apocalypse has been living inside us for some time already. It is up to us in our individual situations to decide whether to add to the despair in selfish gratification at the cost of morality, or to make it better for others and by doing so, ourselves too, rather than falling prey to the cynical loop that has been established.