In the shadowed realms of Korean horror, two shamanic sagas collide: where ancient rituals unearth modern madness.
Two towering achievements in contemporary Asian horror filmmaking, The Wailing (2016) and The Medium (2021), draw from the rich tapestry of Korean shamanism to craft narratives of possession, village curses, and clashing spiritual forces. Directed by Na Hong-jin and Banjong Pisanthanakun respectively, these films transcend mere scares, probing the tensions between folklore, faith, and the unknown. This analysis dissects their parallels and divergences, revealing how they redefine folk horror on a global stage.
- Both films masterfully blend shamanistic rituals with supernatural dread, using rural isolation to amplify existential terror.
- The Wailing unfolds as a sprawling police procedural laced with cosmic horror, while The Medium employs a mockumentary style for intimate, escalating frenzy.
- Their legacies cement Korean horror’s dominance, influencing a wave of ritualistic chillers worldwide.
Roots in Ritual: Shared Foundations of Folklore Terror
At their core, The Wailing and The Medium anchor themselves in the authentic practices of Korean mudang shamanism, a spiritual tradition that bridges the living and the spirit world through guttural chants, animal sacrifices, and ecstatic trances. Na Hong-jin’s The Wailing, set in a mist-shrouded mountain village in 1980s South Korea, follows bumbling policeman Jong-goo (Kwak Do-won) as a mysterious Japanese stranger (Jun Kunimura) unleashes a plague of violent possessions. Families turn feral, vomiting blood and slaughtering kin, while Jong-goo’s own daughter becomes the epicentre of the affliction. The film meticulously recreates gutguri rituals, consulting real shamans for accuracy, transforming cultural heritage into a vessel for unrelenting dread.
The Medium, a Thai-Korean co-production directed by Banjong Pisanthanakun, shifts to Isan, northeastern Thailand, but immerses fully in Korean mudang traditions via protagonist Nim (Sawanee Utoomma), a shaman whose niece Mink (Narilya Gulmongkolpech) inherits a malevolent spirit during a failed initiation. Filmed in found-footage mockumentary format by a Korean film crew documenting the rituals, it captures the raw physicality of ceremonies: clanging bells, frenzied dancing, and blood offerings. Both films leverage these rituals not as exotic backdrop but as narrative engines, where the sacred spirals into sacrilege.
The parallels extend to their structural rhythms. Each begins with deceptive normalcy—a rural idyll disrupted by otherworldly incursions—building to climactic exorcisms fraught with betrayal. In The Wailing, Jong-goo oscillates between Christian prayer and shamanic intervention, his faith crumbling under mounting atrocities. Similarly, The Medium pits Mink’s possession against Nim’s faltering kut ceremonies, exposing generational fractures in spiritual lineage. This shared motif underscores a profound anxiety: the inefficacy of tradition against an evolving evil.
Yet, their divergences emerge early. Na Hong-jin favours a three-hour epic scope, weaving subplots involving a shamaness Il-gwang (Hwang Jung-min) and a blind psychic, creating a labyrinthine conspiracy. Pisanthanakun, conversely, maintains claustrophobic immediacy through the camera’s unblinking gaze, heightening voyeuristic unease as viewers witness Mink’s degradation in real time.
Village Plagues: Epidemic Horror and Communal Collapse
Central to both is the motif of contagion, where supernatural malaise spreads like a virus, eroding social bonds. The Wailing opens with hikers eviscerated in the woods, escalating to village-wide rampages: a father beheads his family, another gnaws corpses. Na Hong-jin films these outbreaks with visceral handheld shots, the camera panting alongside Jong-goo, mimicking panic. The plague symbolises not just demonic incursion but post-war Korea’s lingering traumas, where superstition fills ideological voids left by rapid modernisation.
The Medium mirrors this in Mink’s transformation: from demure student to contorting beast, her symptoms—convulsions, bilingual shrieks—propagate doubt among kin. The mockumentary lens captures unfiltered horror, such as a gut-wrenching scene where Mink births a parasitic entity, its tendrils slick and pulsating. Pisanthanakun draws from Thai phi spirits but infuses Korean animism, blurring cultural lines to universalise rural paranoia.
Communal response diverges sharply. In The Wailing, authority figures—police, pastors, shamans—clash in a cacophony of rituals, culminating in a rain-soaked exorcism amid gunfire and incantations. The film’s centrepiece, a protracted ceremony in a torchlit tent, fuses mudang chants with Christian hymns, their dissonance amplifying thematic chaos. Jong-goo’s descent into madness reflects Korea’s religious syncretism, where Buddhism, Christianity, and shamanism collide without resolution.
The Medium internalises the collapse within the family unit, the village periphery framing Nim’s desperate kut attempts. A pivotal sequence sees Mink’s spirit reveal Nim’s hidden sins via flashback, intercut with ritual frenzy, employing split-screens to fracture reality. This intimacy contrasts The Wailing‘s sprawl, yet both indict collective denial: communities shielding evil under piety’s guise.
Demonic Architectures: Entities and Their Designs
The antagonists—elusive, polymorphic spirits—embody ambiguity, defying genre tropes. The Wailing‘s stranger, a gaunt interloper with crimson eyes, hints at biblical fallen angels or Japanese yokai, his mountain lair a womb of gore-smeared effigies. Na Hong-jin withholds motivations, fuelling paranoia: is he devil, ghost, or metaphor for foreign invasion? The film’s final twist, a venomous rebuke of faith, leaves ontology unresolved, echoing cosmic horror masters like Lovecraft.
In The Medium, the entity Seo-yeon manifests through Mink’s body in grotesque mutations—elongated limbs, inverted pregnancy—its origins tied to ancestral abuse. Pisanthanakun layers reveals via confessional tapes, unveiling a familial curse rooted in Nim’s past abortions, symbolising repressed matriarchal trauma. Unlike The Wailing‘s external invader, this demon is intimate, birthed from within.
Both employ auditory cues to herald presences: guttural whispers in The Wailing, scored by Jang Young-gyu with dissonant taiko drums; The Medium‘s diegetic ritual gongs morphing into industrial shrieks. Visually, practical effects dominate—prosthetics for contortions, blood-rigged eruptions—grounding spectrality in corporeality.
Cinematography and Sound: Crafting Unseen Fears
Na Hong-jin’s collaboration with cinematographer Hong Kyung-pyo yields painterly compositions: fog-veiled forests lit by bioluminescent flares, interiors choked with shadow. Long takes track Jong-goo’s unraveling, the frame widening to swallow him in isolation. Sound design amplifies: distant wails pierce silence, building to operatic crescendos during rituals.
Pisanthanakun’s mockumentary, shot by Park Kyoung-tae, favours shaky Steadicam and infrared night vision, evoking REC or Gonjiam. The single-take exorcism finale, 30 minutes of unbroken agony, weaponises immersion. Sound here is hyper-real: flesh tearing, bones cracking, overlaid with shamanic ululations processed into otherworldly echoes.
These choices underscore tonal shifts. The Wailing evolves from procedural to apocalypse, its palette desaturating into hellish reds. The Medium accelerates from documentary detachment to primal assault, colours bleeding into feverish oversaturation.
Special Effects: Flesh, Blood, and the Uncanny
Practical mastery defines both. The Wailing‘s effects, by Odd Studio, include hyper-realistic autopsies—entrails spilling in glistening detail—and possession metamorphoses via silicone appliances. The climactic impalement scene, with arrows riddling a shaman, blends gore with balletic choreography, its impact lingering through restraint rather than excess.
The Medium pushes boundaries with Weta Workshop-level prosthetics: Mink’s birthing sequence features a pulsating, vein-wrapped abomination emerging from orifices, achieved through animatronics and CGI augmentation. Contortion rigs allow 180-degree spine bends, evoking Japanese onryo while innovating Thai lakorn influences. Both films prioritise tactile horror, scorning digital shortcuts for effects that haunt kinesthetically.
Their restraint in CGI—minimal, seamless—preserves authenticity, allowing performances to pierce the spectacle.
Performances: Souls in Torment
Kwak Do-won anchors The Wailing with a tour-de-force of paternal desperation, his Jong-goo devolving from comic oaf to shattered zealot. Hwang Jung-min’s Il-gwang channels shamanic fury, her trances a whirlwind of sweat and prophecy. Jun Kunimura’s enigmatic menace simmers with quiet malevolence.
Sawanee Utoomma dominates The Medium, her Nim a pillar of resolve cracking under guilt; Narilya Gulmongkolpech’s Mink embodies innocence corrupted, her screams raw catharsis. Supporting turns, like the documentarian’s growing horror, add layers of complicity.
Comparatively, The Wailing boasts ensemble depth, while The Medium spotlights dual leads, both elevating ritualistic dialogue into operatic lament.
Cultural Echoes and Global Ripples
Released amid Korea’s horror renaissance, The Wailing grossed over $32 million domestically, spawning fan theories dissecting its ambiguities. The Medium shattered Netflix records, its Thai-Korean fusion exporting mudang lore globally. Both critique syncretic faiths: Christianity’s impotence against animism in The Wailing, generational shamanism’s toxicity in The Medium.
Influence abounds—Exhuma (2024) echoes their formulas—solidifying folk horror’s evolution from The Witch parallels.
Verdict: Twin Peaks of Possession Cinema
Neither supplants the other; The Wailing excels in mythic breadth, The Medium in visceral proximity. Together, they affirm Asian horror’s preeminence, where spirits demand reckoning.
Director in the Spotlight
Na Hong-jin, born in 1974 in Jeonju, South Korea, emerged from a background blending rural roots and urban ambition. Raised amid the Taedong River’s mists, his early fascination with ghost stories and Catholic upbringing infused his worldview with supernatural tensions. After studying film at Korea National University of Arts, he debuted with the thriller The Yellow Sea (2010), a brutal noir following a debt-ridden man’s spiral into crime, earning acclaim for its kinetic action and moral ambiguity.
His sophomore effort, The Wailing (2016), marked a genre pinnacle, blending horror with procedural depth over 156 minutes, lauded at Cannes for its audacious fusion of folklore and existential dread. Na’s meticulous research involved shadowing real mudangs, resulting in rituals of ethnographic precision. The film’s box-office triumph and cult status propelled him internationally.
Returning after an eight-year hiatus, Deokbyu (Nightmare, 2024) revisits rural Korea with a tale of cursed siblings, showcasing evolved command of tension and effects. Influences span Park Chan-wook’s vengeance sagas, Bong Joon-ho’s social allegories, and Japanese kaidan films. Na’s oeuvre critiques modernity’s erosion of tradition, often through everyman protagonists confronting the abyss.
Comprehensive filmography: The Yellow Sea (2010): A desperate cabbie navigates gangland betrayal across borders. The Wailing (2016): A policeman battles a village plague tied to demonic strangers. Deokbyu (2024): Siblings unearth family horrors in a haunted countryside. Na also penned scripts for collaborators, maintaining a deliberate pace amid Hollywood overtures, committed to Korean cinema’s soul.
Actor in the Spotlight
Kwak Do-won, born March 12, 1973, in South Korea, honed his craft through theatre before screen breakthroughs. From modest origins in Daegu, he trained at Seoul Institute of the Arts, debuting in minor TV roles amid financial struggles. His film career ignited with Antique Bakery (2008), a rom-com showcasing comedic timing.
Breakout came in The Wailing (2016), his raw portrayal of Jong-goo earning Blue Dragon Award nods for embodying frantic humanity. Subsequent leads include The Strangers (2019), a tense thriller, and Hunt (2022) as a spy in political intrigue. Accolades encompass Grand Bell Awards for Asura: The City of Madness (2016), blending gangster grit with pathos.
Kwak’s versatility spans genres: horror in Monstrum (2018) as a Joseon-era investigator; drama in Samjin Company English Class (2020). Influences from Daniel Day-Lewis inform his immersive method. Filmography highlights: Scent of a Woman (2009): Supportive teacher in poignant drama. The Wailing (2016): Tormented cop in shamanic nightmare. Asura (2016): Ruthless prosecutor undone by corruption. Monstrum (2018): Hero battling mythical beast. The Witch: Part 1 (2018): Enigmatic mentor. Hunt (2022): NIS agent in Cold War thriller. 12.12: The Day (2023): Military figure in coup recreation. Kwak remains a staple of quality Korean fare, his everyman intensity captivating audiences.
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Bibliography
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Park, S. (2021) ‘Mockumentary Madness: Banjong Pisanthanakun’s The Medium‘, Sight & Sound, British Film Institute.
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Variety Staff (2016) ‘Cannes Review: The Wailing‘, Variety. Available at: https://variety.com/2016/film/reviews/the-wailing-review-na-hong-jin-1201776789/ (Accessed 15 October 2024).
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