The King of Pigs

South Korean director Yeun Sang-ho selects pessimistic pigments to sketch the maturation of bullying in his animation The King of Pigs. Following 15 years of silence, a telephone call reunites old friends Hwang and Jong. The two men discuss the past over dinner – their present lurks elsewhere, uninvited. Flashbacks reveal the abject emotional and bodily abuse they suffered at school from rabid tormentors in a system of designer labels and class chasms. With the arrival of student Kim Chul, their mortification on the bottom rung of adolescence may finally have come to an end, but at a devastating cost. Yeun Sang-ho’s aesthetic is congruously unlovely, hollowing expressions and exploring interstitial grotesquery to chilling effect. Backgrounds smoulder, and a kinetic manipulation of space facets The King of Pigs’ frames. Its characters, however, remain flat. Consequently, fumbling around in such potent matter for heart becomes thankless. While its observation of brutality is undeniably consummate, The King of Pigs is forsaken by humanity’s nuance. But without a flicker of light, why should we even care what void we’re staring into? [Kirsty Leckie-Palmer]