A group of people go through great, life-threatening hardship in a world that is in the grips of an infectious disease, to get to safety. But when they finally get there, they’ve lost more than just strength – they’ve lost friends along the way. And in this so-called ‘safe space’, they are not met with comfort and relief from the people already there, but with suspicion that they are ‘infected’. The newcomers turn into outcasts once again.
Sounds rather close to reality, doesn’t it? Living amid a pandemic, we have read several iterations of the above story. Suspicion, uncertainty and prejudice have made people frightened and suspicious of each other; in certain cases, leading to ostracization of some over fears of catching the coronavirus infection. However, the scene above is out of fiction, from the 2016 South Korean zombie horror film, Train to Busan.
Directed by Yeon Sang-ho, the gripping film follows Seok-woo (played by Gong Yoo) – a divorced and workaholic father – and his young daughter Su-an as they take a train to go see her mother for the child’s birthday in Busan. However, a mysterious disease suddenly breaks out in the country, turning people into zombies. An infected woman gets on the train just as it is leaving, and so, it quickly spreads through passengers in the train, who turn into zombies when bitten by one.
The film is an edge-of-the-seat thriller no doubt, but re-watching Train To Busan during a pandemic gives the film a whole new layer of meaning. For one, it reveals just how transformative fear is, and how it brings out the worst and best in people.
Seok-woo for instance, comes across as a self-centred man, who initially tells Su-an that at such a dangerous time, we must only look out for ourselves. Su-an, whose innocence and compassion are brought out endearingly by actor Kim Su-an, does not agree – in words, or in her actions. Ultimately, we see Seok-woo also transform similarly, looking out for others beyond himself and his daughter, for the friends he makes along the way. One of the most lovable characters in the film is Sang-hwa (Ma Dong-seok), a man who is on the train with his heavily pregnant wife Seong-kyeong (Jung Yu-me), who does not even think twice about helping others.
It is not that these characters are not fearful or unrealistically breezy through dire situations. The filmmakers give them no such advantages. However, their actions are rather reminiscent of the stories of real-life kindness and courage that have emerged during the COVID-19 pandemic. Whether it is the healthcare workers who have put themselves at risk despite inhumane working hours and lack of personal protective gear; the people who banded together to volunteer to distribute rations or ferry migrant workers; or those who have stepped up to bury the dead when no one else did – their actions prove that fear also inspires bravery and empathy.
On the other hand, we see Yon-suk (Kim Eui-sung), the COO of Stallion Express, a man whose concern only seems to extend to himself in the film. He doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid in telling a train attendant to start the train and head straight to Busan as long as he is on it when it is revealed that they will not find safety at an intermediate station. Later too, he is the one who instigates fellow passengers to not let Seok-woo and the others into their coach, telling them they are infected. He seems to have no qualms about being directly responsible for the death of at least three people, so long as he can escape.
The way his fear drives his actions has real-life examples in the pandemic too – such as essential workers being ostracised from their homes and by their neighbours; and the distrust against domestic workers, migrant workers and other working class persons on the assumption that they are carriers of the novel coronavirus by virtue of them being poorer, even though the virus makes no such differentiation.
Train to Busan serves as a reminder that the people who suffer during such an outbreak are more than numbers and tallies – they are people. In the film, we see Sang-hwa refer to Seok-woo simply as “asshole”, and both of them refer to Yong-guk, a young baseball player who is with them as “idiot”. While they don’t know each other’s names, their collaboration is very human. Yong-guk finds himself unable to kill or hit the zombies they find in one train coach, because they were his fellow baseball teammates who have now turned into zombies. And while Seong-kyeong and Su-an never refer to each other with names, for a major part of the film, it is Seong-keyong who ensures that Su-an is with them, keeps her close. The two form a bond that arises out of necessity and terror, but deepens beyond it.
Train To Busan is also a brilliant exploration of the human psyche and relationships and it does so in fleeting moments, without letting up nuance. The father-daughter relationship between Seok-woo and Su-an has some very poignant moments – most of them driven by the anticipation that they just do not know if they will survive the next few minutes. Sang-hwa and Seong-kyeong are adorable and realistic as a couple, with a lot of courage and heart.
The final half an hour of the film is especially terrifying and emotional as Seok-woo gets infected after being bitten by Yon-suk, who, in his final moments before losing his humanity to become a zombie, begs Seok-woo to help him go to Busan, to his mother. As Seok-woo realises he has to sacrifice himself to keep Seong-kyeong and Su-an safe before he becomes a zombie, we see that in his final moments, just as his eyes are glazing over with a white film, he thinks of holding an infant Su-an for the first time, and smiles as he deliberately falls to his death from the train bogey. For all his neglect and selfishness, Seok-woo finds redemption for being an absentee father and for dealing with a biological plant that might have been responsible for the zombie virus outbreak by giving up his life and saving his daughter and a pregnant woman who’s all but a stranger to him.
It is ironic that both Yon-suk and Seok-woo, whose conducts by the end of the film are so different, die similarly – fearful, and thinking of loved ones in their final moments. In these scenes, Train to Busan yet again reminds us that these seemingly dumb but deadly zombies were also people.
Generally, horror films don’t have a huge shelf life. Once you know what’s going to happen, it can feel redundant to re-watch it. There are a few exceptions, and that’s because they offer more – relatable characters, real drama and relationships, and brilliant storytelling. The fact that Train to Busan remains relevant even now is testament to that fact that it is one of those few horror films that go beyond the genre to deliver much more.