In the shadowed crossroads of Korean and Thai folklore, two films summon possessions that chill to the bone—which one truly exorcises the soul of horror?

 

Possession horror thrives on the invasion of the body by malevolent forces, blending visceral terror with cultural mysticism. Na Hong-jin’s The Wailing (2016) and Banjong Pisanthanakun’s The Medium (2021) stand as towering achievements in East Asian cinema, each wielding shamanism and supernatural dread to devastating effect. This analysis pits their demonic narratives head-to-head, scrutinising plots, performances, effects, and lingering impact to crown the superior summoner of fear.

 

  • Unpacking the layered folklore and escalating possessions that define each film’s supernatural core.
  • Contrasting technical mastery in visuals, sound, and practical effects to reveal raw terror mechanics.
  • Delivering a verdict on which possession epic delivers the most unforgettable, soul-shattering horror.

 

Unholy Incursions: The Narratives Unfold

In The Wailing, a rural South Korean village descends into madness following the arrival of a mysterious Japanese stranger. Police officer Jong-goo, portrayed with dogged intensity by Kwak Do-won, investigates a string of gruesome murders marked by feverish symptoms and unholy rage. As his daughter becomes afflicted, displaying contortions and bile-spewing fits, Jong-goo turns to a local shaman whose rituals spiral into chaos. The film masterfully intertwines Christian, Japanese, and Korean spiritual elements, building a conspiracy of ghosts, disease, and betrayal that questions faith itself.

The Medium shifts to northern Thailand, where documentarian crew films a shaman’s family succession ritual. The aunt, a revered figure played by Sawanee Utoomma, passes her powers to niece Nim, but the possession veers into darkness. What begins as ancestral inheritance morphs into a grotesque manifestation, with Nim’s body warping through pregnancy-like swells and ritualistic self-harm. Found-footage style amplifies intimacy, drawing viewers into the family’s unraveling as Thai spirit lore—Phi Ta Khon festivals and animist beliefs—fuels the horror.

Both films excel in gradual escalation. The Wailing‘s 156-minute runtime allows for methodical dread, from subtle omens like animal mutilations to explosive exorcisms amid torrential rain. The Medium, clocking 131 minutes, leverages mockumentary tension, intercutting rituals with personal confessions to heighten claustrophobia. Yet The Wailing edges ahead with its broader canvas, weaving police procedural into cosmic horror, making possessions feel like viral plagues infecting an entire community.

The possession sequences themselves demand scrutiny. Jong-goo’s daughter, possessed, crawls ceilings and vomits blood in a scene echoing biblical plagues, her innocence twisted into feral savagery. Nim’s transformations in The Medium are more bodily grotesque, her abdomen bulging unnaturally as if birthing evil, rooted in Thai myths of spirit impregnation. Each captures the genre’s essence—loss of self—but The Wailing‘s emotional stakes, tied to familial bonds, pierce deeper.

Shamanic Shadows: Cultural Spirits Clash

Rooted in animism, both films weaponise regional shamanism against modernity. The Wailing critiques Korean Christianity’s rise post-1980s, with Jong-goo’s faltering faith clashing against mudang rituals. The stranger’s Japanese heritage evokes colonial ghosts, blending Shinto yokai with guttural demonology. Na Hong-jin draws from Goksung village folklore, where historical plagues birthed possession legends, creating a tapestry where no belief system offers salvation.

The Medium immerses in Isan’s Phi rituals, contrasting urban skepticism with rural ecstasy. The shaman’s trance dances and animal sacrifices invoke real Thai spirit mediums, while the ‘third eye’ possession alludes to karmic debts across lifetimes. Banjong amplifies this through bilingual Korean-Thai dialogue, nodding to co-production roots, but the cultural specificity shines in Nim’s devolution into a vessel for ancestral rage.

Comparative depth reveals The Wailing‘s triumph in ambiguity. Possessions stem from multifaceted evils—disease, foreigners, false prophets—mirroring Korea’s post-war identity crises. The Medium leans explanatory, revealing spirit hierarchies, which grounds terror but sacrifices some mystery. This cultural authenticity elevates both, yet Na’s fusion of traditions crafts a more universal dread, transcending borders.

Gender dynamics enrich the shamanic lens. Female vessels dominate—Jong-goo’s daughter, Nim—symbolising societal suppression. Male shamans falter, underscoring matriarchal spiritual power in Asian lore. The Wailing subverts this with Il-gwang’s fraudulent spectacle, while The Medium‘s aunt embodies genuine torment, her body failing under possession’s weight.

Demonic Mechanics: Inside the Possession

Possession mechanics distinguish the films’ horror engines. The Wailing employs contagion: victims scratch symbols into flesh, eyes roll white, bodies convulse in impossible angles. Sound cues—whispers, animalistic growls—signal incursion, culminating in a rain-soaked ritual where gunfire and incantations collide. The demon’s nature remains elusive, thriving on doubt.

The Medium details progression: initial trances yield to violent fits, then physical mutations like elongated limbs and spurting fluids. Practical gags emphasise birth horrors, with Nim’s orifices exploited for shocks. The mockumentary frame makes possessions immediate, as if capturing real exorcisms gone awry.

The Wailing superiorly integrates mechanics into plot; possessions drive investigation, revealing human complicity. The Medium‘s are spectacle-driven, peaking in finale orgies of gore. Both evoke The Exorcist, but Na’s restraint builds cumulative terror, avoiding overkill.

Spectral Soundscapes: Auditory Assaults

Sound design amplifies possessions’ intimacy. The Wailing‘s score by Jang Young-gyu layers traditional pansori wails with discordant strings, mimicking spirit songs. Possession voices warp from childlike to guttural Japanese rants, disorienting listeners. Ambient rain and gunshots punctuate rituals, forging immersion.

The Medium thrives on diegetic horror: ritual drums, pig squeals, Nim’s multilingual shrieks in Thai-Korean. Found-footage mics capture breaths and snaps, heightening realism. Yet repetition dulls impact compared to The Wailing‘s evolving symphony.

Dialogue scarcity in climaxes forces reliance on audio, where The Wailing excels, its multilingual curses embedding cultural unease.

Possessed Performances: Flesh and Fury

Kwak Do-won’s Jong-goo embodies everyman’s descent, his frustration exploding in possessed confrontations. Child actress Kim Hwan-hee’s feral acrobatics stun, blending innocence with abomination. Shaman Hwangi’s bombast masks pathos.

Sawanee Utoomma’s shaman radiates weary authority, crumbling under visions. Narilya Gulmongkolpech’s Nim transforms convincingly, her contortions visceral. Supporting turns, like the documentarian’s horror, add layers.

The Wailing‘s ensemble cohesion trumps The Medium‘s leads, with broader emotional range.

Effects from the Void: Visual Nightmares

Practical effects dominate. The Wailing uses prosthetics for boils and twists, minimal CGI preserving grit. Rain-drenched rituals gleam with practical blood.

The Medium pushes boundaries: animatronic births, wirework flights, hyper-real gore. CGI enhances mutations without seamlessness issues.

Both innovate; The Wailing‘s subtlety haunts longer.

Echoes Beyond the Grave: Legacy’s Grasp

The Wailing influenced Korean horror’s global rise, spawning think-pieces on faith. The Medium Netflix-boosted Thai horror, echoing in remakes.

Na’s film endures for philosophical depth; Banjong’s for shocks.

Exorcising the Verdict: The True Sovereign

The Wailing reigns supreme. Its ambiguous, culturally rich possessions eclipse The Medium‘s visceral but narrower scope, delivering horror that lingers in the psyche.

Director in the Spotlight

Na Hong-jin, born 1974 in Gwangju, South Korea, emerged from a background in short films and advertising. A former assistant director, he debuted with the crime thriller The Murderer (2008), but gained acclaim with The Yellow Sea (2010), a brutal noir starring Ha Jung-woo as a desperate debtor in a cross-border killing spree. Influences from Park Chan-wook and Bong Joon-ho shape his visceral style, blending action, social commentary, and supernatural dread.

His masterpiece The Wailing (2016) solidified his status, earning multiple Blue Dragon Awards and Cannes praise. Production spanned two years amid rain-soaked shoots, reflecting his perfectionism. Na’s follow-up, Joker: Folie à Deux delayed, he crafts epics probing human frailty against cosmic forces.

Filmography highlights: The Yellow Sea (2010)—gritty revenge saga; The Wailing (2016)—possession epic; upcoming Hunt (TBD)—serial killer thriller. Na champions practical effects and rural authenticity, influencing directors like Yeon Sang-ho. Interviews reveal Buddhist roots informing his ambiguity, cementing him as Korean horror’s philosopher king.

Challenges include budget battles for The Wailing‘s effects, yet his vision prevailed, grossing over $90 million worldwide.

Actor in the Spotlight

Kwak Do-won, born 1973 in South Korea, honed craft in theatre before screen breakthroughs. Early roles in dramas like Misaeng (2014) showcased nuance, but The Wailing catapulted him as Jong-goo, earning Best Actor nods for raw desperation.

Raised in Busan, Kwak studied at Seoul Institute of Arts, debuting in Break Away (2010). Career spans indies to blockbusters: Shin Godzilla (2016) Japanese role; Time to Hunt (2020) Netflix actioner. No major awards yet, but critical acclaim abounds.

Filmography: The Yellow Sea (2010)—minor thug; Mad Sad Bad (2014)—lead in anthology; The Wailing (2016)—protagonist; Steel Rain 2 (2020)—spy thriller; Hunt (2022)—agent. Kwak excels in authority figures cracking under pressure, his everyman face amplifying horror intimacy.

Recent works include Mission Cross (2024), blending genres masterfully.

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