Sup bishes. It’s been a while. I think by ‘a while’ I mean about 6 weeks, but that sounds like maths and maths doesn’t fit with my fantasy, so let’s just agree it’s been a hot minute. 2020 is finally over, a year about as popular as Piers Morgan’s smile, so we can at least be thankful for that. Recently here in Seoul, the weather has decided that it’s not enough for the world to be a flaming bag of turds, and has gifted us with temperatures swooping down to -17°c. I miss feeling sensation in my fingers, it was fun.
However, as much as 2021 has so far done her darndest to outdo her little sister (thanks Capitol-storming Nazis, we were just about to relax), I have also been able to find little oasises (oases? Who cares) in meeting friends, video calls, and of course, our Lord and Saviour, Netflix. And more specifically, a banging little Korean horror series, Sweet Home.
On Christmas Day, in the hotel my wonderful parents had paid for me to stay in (good GOD what a great idea, I had FOUR BATHS), hyped up on an amount of wine I will not disclose, I saw an advert for a Korean series online that promised weirdness, blood and tension. Reading the series description and seeing the word ‘monster’ sealed the deal completely, and the wee hours of the anniversary of the birth of Christ were thus spent watching a pretty bloody apocalyptic narrative.
Sweet Home, the series in question, is a ten-part show telling the story of the residents of a typical Seoul apartment building, as a bizarre infection that turns people into monstrous creatures sweeps through the country. Very much an ensemble piece, and based on a popular webtoon of the same name, the show has already broken records as the first Korean show to break the top 3 streamed list on US Netflix. Earlier today I walked past more than one flashy animated billboard advertising the programme, compounding just how big a success it has been. And boy, I can see why.
This is a story that owes a huge amount to the zombie apocalypse narrative we all know well at this point. A group of random individuals are thrown together in a run-down structure, fighting terrifying monsters from the outside and realising that, ultimately, the monstrous behaviour they encounter might not be entirely external. In this sense, Sweet Home is very similar to the hit movie #Alive, only switching out the specific nature of the supernatural threat. As I said, here the threat is ‘monsters’ rather than zombies, and you would be right to question exactly what that means. One of the show’s strongest points is that it does this too. The first glimpse that we see of one of these transformations is in the form of a neighbour of one of the central characters, new tenant Hyun-Soo. After we see a brief scene of her dieting and begrudgingly feeding her cat, she transforms into a gluttonous, admittedly zombie-esque creature who only wants to feed. This is easily one of the scariest and most tense moments of the whole show, with the extent of her change revealed horrifically through…err….what happens to her cat. As feline lover myself, I will say that scene took the mantra ‘don’t worry, it’s not real, it’s a prop the cat is fine’ in order to get through. Other monsters similarly manifest desires or ugly qualities that already exist in people, from the gigantic (literally) ‘protein monster’ who has taken bodybuilding a liiiittle too far, to the half-decapitated ‘lotus root monster’ who stumbles around drawling about how he can’t see (the half of his head with eyes is the part he’s missing), and the rotting former security guard who is unfortunately still determined to use his grass cutter on whatever/whoever is in front of him. The actual transformation process of this ‘monsterisation’ is also a key plot point of the show. As is established in fairly early episodes, once a person has been ‘infected’ by a monster (again, in pretty much the same manner as one would be by a zombie, via biting), there is a ‘golden time’ of about 14 days during which they effectively remain human. If those 14 days can be survived, without succumbing to violent hallucinations or intense nosebleeds (this is a very pro-nosebleed show), there is potentially a possibility of overcoming the monstrosity. Though this entire transformation process still remains ambiguous in many respects, it’s a pretty intentional choice which results in greater tension for various characters and their relationships with others. Here we are not given the ease of person- gets bitten- now zombie; we are left questioning every character who has become infected, how much their humanity can help them fight their newfound monstrosity, and whether it is even a bad thing at all.
And the characters, as with any good show, are the core of why this show’s monster conceit works so well. As with any apocalyptic story, it is essential that our ensemble is as diverse in personality and lifestyle as can be possible in one place of residence. It would be no fun watching 15 self-involved marketing interns fight off unkillable creatures (oh yeah, forgot to say, once you are ‘monsterised’, you essentially can’t die either. Such fun). So, we need a proper motley crew. Our central character, Hyun-Soo, is a suicidal young man with ostensibly nothing to live for (spoiler, he may find a reason). Lee Eun-Hyuk is a serious, level-headed man who takes on leadership of the band of eventual survivors. Pyeon Sang-Wook is a mysterious, silent yet violent type, Seo Yi-Kyeong an incredibly handy firefighter with some emotional baggage, Yoon Ji-Soo, a trendy young bassist with steely resolve, and Jung Jae-Heon a Christian with the will to survive and be kind. Added to this core crew are hot-headed young women, mothers who have tragically lost their children, wry old grandpas and sadistic mercenaries among others. This may not be the most unexpected line-up for this kind of story (gosh it’s handy one of them is a trained electrician, another is medically experienced and yet another is jolly good at fighting), but the performances that are brought to each of these roles convinces and enthrals completely. I would particularly highlight the two male leads of Hyun-Soo, played by Song Kang, and Eun-Hyuk, portrayed by Lee Do-Hyun. The former, who is tasked with portraying most fully the complexities of becoming a monster and what that might mean, is captivating. The latter brings a phenomenally minimalistic stoicism that manages to never become boring or frustrating, a real feat. It also doesn’t hurt that both of these men are phenomenally good-looking, just so you know. We grow to really care for these two, and the people around them, throughout the show’s ten episodes, with all the expected twists and turns that brings.
Song Kang as Hyun-Soo (left) and Lee Do-Hyun as Eun Hyuk
Without spoiling the entire series, I will say that the show does follow a well-trodden format of; monster threat is discovered, blood ensues; a band of survivors forms; the nature of the beasts is questioned; outside influences compound the idea that monsters might not be what should be feared, etc. The last few episodes do still deliver some emotional gut-punches despite this, and like I say, the complex nature of what these monsters actually are, how one becomes them and how one can interpret that is a new angle I hadn’t seen before. This comes with an array of special effects that are, for the most part, believable, and always exceptional fun. Think Stranger Things meets #Alive and you’ll get an idea of the atmosphere here.
Following my favourite trend of bloody, monstrous horror from Korea, in the vein of Train to Busan or Kingdom, Sweet Home is a little slice of supernatural apocalypto that manages to be gripping and thrilling throughout its ten episodes. Given its success around the world I would be surprised if it ended here (there were several moments in the final scenes of the show that strongly suggest further storylines), and I definitely want to see more, and not just because of the hot actors. Still more brutal and creative than a lot of Western fare, this show is a fun, satisfying, bloody little nugget to take you through (or rather, out of) the winter of 2021.
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