""Painter of the Night" and the Sadism of Class" Transcript
31 Jul 2021
The Sadism of Class
The Real Burden of Being Rich (Short)
Painter of the Night
Script
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Jul 31, 2021
First published.
Dec 07, 2023
Privated post-callout.
Feb 26, 2024
Unprivated with apology 2, claiming no plagiarism.
May 8, 2024Channel deleted
Jul 31, 2021
Mar 08, 2023
As of Jul 31, 2021
There's so much more going on in "Painter of the Night" than just sex and violence.
My Patreon:
[link]
00:00 Intro
03:47 Part 1 - Spilling Tea
11:15 Part 2 - Subjugation Fetish
18:27 Part 3 - We Eat Our Own
30:17 Part 4 - We Are All Parasites
41:27 Part 5 - Class Contrast
#PainteroftheNight #Manga #VideoEssay
As of Feb 26, 2024
There's so much more going on in "Painter of the Night" than just sex and violence.
[patreon link]
00:00 Intro
03:47 Part 1 - Spilling Tea
11:15 Part 2 - Subjugation Fetish
18:27 Part 3 - We Eat Our Own
30:17 Part 4 - We Are All Parasites
41:27 Part 5 - Class Contrast
#PainteroftheNight #Manga #VideoEssay
SO, Back to the increasingly popular world
of Korean Manhwa we go! After the Killing Stalking video came out
in April, I got, literally, thousands of messages and comments from people telling me that I
definitely needed to read Painter of the Night. That it was a lot like Killing Stalking, especially
in its use of sexual abuse as a plot point. Though I was a little worried that a lot of
people on the internet now thought of me as the guy who talks about disturbing Korean
media, I eventually gave in and checked it out. And… I really had no idea what people
were talking about. I didn't find it anywhere near as disturbing as Killing Stalking. I
think because Painter of the Night is a period piece, set about 200 years ago during the
Joseon Dynastic period in Korea. And because it was set two hundred years ago,
and I’m a fan of history, I wasn't really all that shocked at some of the things I was
seeing. Blackmail, r*pe, murder… Not exactly unheard of at a time when America was being
built off of the backs of African slaves, and England was subjugating more non-white
people across the world than any super power before them. I was particularly un-shocked because the
people doing the blackmailing, r*ping, and murdering were, for the most part, rich. The
elite of Korea. Who could get away with pretty much anything because they had money and influence.
I thought, of course people are being abused by the rich. That’s just how it goes. And then I realized something about myself
that was pretty depressing. In the year of our lord, 2021, I have become so used to seeing
the rich do terrible things and get away with it, that it had become so commonplace in my
mind, that i wasn't the least bit shocked when it was taken to the poetic degree of
the poor literally being rped by the rich, instead of figuratively rped by them. I had become so jaded by the economic horrors
of our current situation that seeing them on a page had little effect on me. And don't get me wrong, the content in this
comic is still disturbing. The abuse and gaslighting is extreme, even from characters who aren't
technically villains. And, of course, it wouldn’t be the number one manwha on the internet if
there wasnt some sexual assault thrown in there as well. Like, in every issue. A lot
of sex. To the point where some of the original working titles for the series, from the author
herself, were “Painter of Sex” and “Pornography: A Scandal in Joseon”. So lots of sex and sexual abuse, lots of emotional
manipulation and abuse. And the rich abusing the poor in every which way possible. I guess
this is my brand now. Let’s discuss. Painter of the Night is a story set in historic
Korea. It follows the titular painter, Nakyum, as he is more or less abducted by a nobleman,
Yoon Seungho, who has been largely estranged from his family due to having a reputation
for being a bit too horny. Nakyum is a talented painter who had been unable to find a patron
to support his work, and so he’s resorted to painting erotic depictions of sodomy to
make ends meet. Which is basically how digital artists function
today. Nakyum would have struck it rich if he got commissioned by some furries. Seungho is totally into it. And in spite of
Nakyum using a pseudonym to sell collections of his naughty pictures, Seungho manages to
track him down. But when he does, Nakyum is living as a drunk, and has all but given up
erotic painting for mysterious reasons. Unfortunately for Nakyum, the nobleman doesn’t take ‘no’
for an answer. And one thing leads to another and then There’s
the little Twink, painting pictures of Seungho boning other dudes. While it takes some time
for Seungho to turn his sexual appetites to his prisoner-slash-beneficiary, it does happen,
and it’s… absolutely not consensual. At least not at first. It goes on for a while,
sometimes with Seungho getting explicitly violent, and then Nakyum eventually doing
it “willingly” just to avoid Seungho’s temper. See. Seungho is the eldest child of the Yoon
Family, which, historically, has been of great significance and influence. However, over
the prior few generations, the family’s prestige has been waning, and their political
influence is dwindling. Culminating in Seungho living the high life, riding out what’s
left of his family’s stately goodwill. Smoking opium and hosting wild gay orgies for the
other rich boys. He’s considered a black sheep of the family and is — said — to
be the reason his relatives abandoned their estate and relocated to the countryside. Though
that’s in question, as his father was involved in a treasonous plot, and then disappeared
shortly thereafter. Seungho is constantly advised that his reputation
is going to run the family into the ground, but he doesn’t really much listen to that.
He neither has interest in politics nor business, opting exclusively for hedonistic excess,
though commanding so much fear over the locals that they keep theses rumour on hushed lips.
The other local highborn citizens tolerate Yoon Seungho... from a distance. By the time he ostensibly kidnaps Nakyum — and
later gaslights him into believing that he chose to go with him — Seungho is already
deep into this cycle of rumour and privileged dismissal. However, the first significant
change noted in Seungho’s character happens shortly after he abducts Nakyum. Nakyum had a teacher, you see, who is both
a role model and an object of his affection — Jung In-Hun. When Seungho susses out who,
exactly, this learn’d man is, he tracks him down in an attempt to somehow use him
to manipulate Nakyum into painting dirty pictures — a task that Nakyum has, until that point,
actively resisted. When we meet Jung, it is shortly before he
is approached by Seungho. He is discussing why he does so little to teach children to
read — what he was literally employed to do — and spends so much time instead on
his own studies. He retorts that there isn’t much point in educating children because they’re
going to be farmers, anyway, and it would just be a wasted skill. Thus, his talents
are in much better service to the state preparing himself for a career in politics that has
yet to manifest. And so he’s been living in this kind of
limbo of talking about getting stuff done but not really doing anything and just living
off the goodwill of local farmers without providing anything of substance in return.
So when Lord Yoon Seungho approaches him and says that he would like to make Jung the first
state official the Yoon family has elevated in decades, Jung jumps at the opportunity.
In spite of Seungho’s bad reputation, naturally. Jung immediately suspects that as the reason
why Seungho keeps the kid around. And then proceeds to do nothing but guilt-trip and
slut-shame Nakyum. Seeing Seungho as a threat, Jung decided he
needs more information as leverage. And so when he encounters Nakyum attempting to flee
Seungho who has, at this point, begun sexually assaulting him, Jung tells the painter that
he really ought to go back with him to the estate, and that Nakyum should spy on Seungho
for him. And it should go without saying that Nakyum
is completely infatuated with Jung because boys like him in fiction have a thing for
jerks, bullies, and teachers. And it’s a bit of an emotional blow when Jung does leave
the Yoon estate and the last thing he says to Nakyum is that he’s become a filthy prostitute. After that he’s moved out of the story.
Though, as he is consistently referenced, he will likely return when the third season
starts up again. Since then, the recent twenty-odd chapters
have a much greater focus on class structure. Well… okay, the focus is, as always, the
white blob that would otherwise be Yoon Seungho’s penis. But in between those sections there
is a lot of drama that does not involve penises. First — Seungho’s ex, Lee Jihwa, a noble
who he had dumped in favor of the painter, figures he can win back Seungho by paying
a criminal named No-Name to assassinate Nakyum. And… yes that is a little extreme, but it’s
not like he hasn’t tried a few other things to sabotage Seungho’s opinion of the painter. And Jihwa’s scheme ties into another sub
plot focusing on a servant in the Yoon Estate who is more than a little upset at Nakyum’s
perceived privileges. Also the fact that Seungho routinely beats the staff. It doesn’t help that Seungho actively prevents
Nakyum from interacting with the servants, despite Nakyum’s preference for taking meals
with them, working in the kitchens, and their company in general. And Seungho will take
it out on the staff if he catches his delicate painter sullying his hands with the other
common folk. So he begins to dress Nakyum in fine clothes,
feeds him the best food the estate has to offer — on top of the spacious living arrangements
he’s given to sleep and paint in. The trade off is… you know. Complete sacrifice of
personal autonomy, isolation from loved ones, and being shut off from the outside world
if he is not chaperoned by a Yoon servant. Which, if Seungho has romantic feelings for
Nakyum, as much of the fanbase believes that he does, you’d think he’d put in a little
more effort to making Nakyum smile. Jesus, first Sangwoo, now Seungho — what is it
with fangirls flocking to men who make boys cry? Anyway, this slighted servant, Doek-Je — begins
to spy for team Jihwa. But he becomes a loose end and has to be eliminated. Turns out nobody
noticed he was gone, though. Including me. Nick had to point it out. Jihwa also decides not to go through with
the assassination, and ends up bottoming for the mega-hot daddy-assassin instead. But that’s a sex scene we didn’t get to
see. And while it may seem like the noble classes
are nothing but appalled when it comes to even touching poor people, they seem to make
an exception when it comes to having sex with them. Even if they hold it against each-other
when the post-nut clarity settles in. Because, distracted by white-blob penises
though we may be, the very core of Painter of the Night is about the many ways that rich
people… f*ck poor people. So, hear me out, even outside just the general
rich person screwing poor person theme, there is an abundance of other examples of class
interactions that we can read into in this work. Start with the… relationship between Nakyum
and Seungho. In the most direct terms, it’s very much a class-based relationship. You have a rich guy, and he’s literally
f*cking a poor guy. Whether the poor guy likes it or not. The whether-he-likes it or not is the curious
part. Because Nakyum does eventually find himself aroused by Seungho. And he begins
to reject options to escape the manor, maybe even specifically to stay with Seungho. Though
there’s just as much evidence to say that he is immensely threatened by Seungho, and
for good reason. Whether its using violence or extreme coercion, Seungho gets what he
wants.And Nakyum, as a character, eventually decides it’s easier to just fall in line.
And Painter of the Night really should depict this development as a tragedy. And it does…
you just have to read into it a little… a lot. Those of wealth and power usually maintain
their wealth by a consistent threat of things maybe getting worse for the poors around them.
It’s a very pivotal tactic of how those in positions of authority manipulate the under-classes. If you ask for the minimum wage to increase,
apparently, employers won’t have enough money to keep the lights on and then you’ll
lose out on your job altogether? Isn’t it just better for everyone to keep wages the
way they are, so at least you’ll have SOMETHING? Or — If everyone has universal healthcare, your
Unions will… explode… or something— They never really make a clear argument for
that one.Anyway. I digress! Eventually, Seungho does promise not to (physically)
hurt Nakyum anymore. Though… this is immediately after threatening
to kill him and/or a close sister figure for trying to escape. So even though Seungho does
seem like the safest option to Nakyum at this point, alternative options have been systemically
blocked, removed, and forbidden. And so when Nakyum turns to Seungho for protection
or comfort, it’s because there has been such a dependency fostered that there’s
simply no other way for him to receive the human needs that he has been starved for. (Which… this is the point in our world where
Wal-Mart has already shut down the last independent retail store so you’re either working for
the Waltons, or you’re collecting welfare. And your democratic state representative has
just said ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps’ in a speech so you know what’s coming next.
You don’t have a choice, but hey… you are consistently told that you have your freedom.)Just
like Nakyum is consistently told that he has a choice. That he chose to live there. That
he chooses to sleep with Seungho. Just like corporate America tells you that you, personally,
chose for that Walmart to open up and suck business and jobs out of your community — to
take those profits out of the community where they end up horded in a Walmart corporate
account somewhere offshore. Yes, this dependency was also an element of
Killing Stalking, and it’s just as not-okay here as it was there — maybe more so here
because it is framed as at least somewhat romantic. However, unlike Killing Stalking,
there is an additional class dynamic at play. Especially one where a great amount of detail
is given to character interactions. Seungho’s interactions are the most ubiquitous, but
other characters have a great deal of significance as well. Jung In-Hun, for instance, Nakyum’s teacher,
Is an educated man with political aspirations. He’s dissatisfied living as a teacher and
yearns for a political station which he feels he deserves, though does absolutely nothing
but sit on his ass to achieve. He makes it very clear that he sees himself as above the
common farmers in the area, and that he’s quite far above Nakyum. He sees Nakyum as a disappointment, a degenerate
who chooses to paint pornography. Even though Nakyum both used his trade in order to survive,
and began painting these scenes to cope with traumatic experiences he witnessed growing
up in what may be a the equivalent of a brothel. All the while Jung takes Nakyum’s reverence
for him for granted, at the same time as actively not giving a single thought to Nakyum’s
circumstances. Jung consistently berates Nakyum for engaging in Seungho’s perversions, even
though he, himself owes his livelihood to Seungho. Jung is an intended social climber. He’s
willing to make exceptions for where he, himself relies on the wealthy because he fully expects
that he, himself, belongs among them. Seungho, both in front of Jung and behind
his back, makes it clear he doesn’t really have strong feelings for the teacher one way
or another. He openly tells Jung that he’s not at smart as he thinks he is and Jung stomachs
the insults, because he still needs Seungho to achieve his goals. But Jung’s ego never
really lets it get under his skin as much as it should. He’s more than happy to lick the boot...
as long as it gets him ahead. He doesn’t have any principles to speak
of... as long as it gets him ahead. He cares for Nakyum when it’s convenient,
but if Nakyum’s safety is entirely secondary to his social climb, and if Nakyum isn’t
helping HIM first and foremost, he doesn’t really have much patience for the boy’s
complaining. Regardless of how both he and Nakyum suffer
under Seungho. Okay, all Jung has to endure is the occasional jab at his bad poetry. But
regardless of how they both dislike Seungho, Jung will routinely badger Nakyum into respecting
the due etiquette of the social classes. Because if Jung tells Nakyum to fight Seungho,
or run away, or do anything to subvert him, then he is telling Nakyum to fight against
the system that he plans to be part of. I would venture to say that he’s even more
unlikable than Seungho. Because as a character… at least Seungho is upfront about what he’s
after, and honest about his methods. This theme goes less like ‘power corrupts’
and is more like ‘the ability to acquire power corrupts.’ Or even ‘the presence of power, even if
unobtainable, corrupts.’ Because even if Jung does become a government
official, with no real textual evidence that he comes from a respected family, he is just
one individual. Maybe in a few generations his descendants can have real authority, but
his name does not carry legacy the way ‘Yoon’ does, even if the family is in decline. Jung may not be as smart as he thinks he is,
but he knows he’s never going to have the kind of social station that Seungho is pissing
away, because Seungho’s station was built up by several generations of nobles before
him. But, Jung does want to climb as high as possible within his station, and he will
step on anyone to get where he thinks he belongs. Which means stepping on people who were born
into even lower stations than he was. And everyone under him and Seungho… who do they
get to step on? When it comes to individuals in Nakyum’s
own social class, there are servants and escorts. That’s about all he has access to. In many cases, especially at first, they don’t
understand why this lowly painter of no renown has earned so much of Lord Yoon’s attention.
Yes, they know his reputation — the servants live around him. And it’s to be expected
that Seungho’s sexual appetite demands fresh meat from time to time. But especially as Seungho begins to feed,
dress, and afford luxuries to Nakyum befitting a noble, there was, at first, a question of
why a poor boy was lifted up by a local lord for no discernible reason? And then, for some, if not many, that question
shifted to: “How dare he?” Indeed, as voiced by one character, Doek-Je,
there is rising descent among the staff who, upon the orders of Seungho, are forced to
wait on Nakyum. It seems that not everyone is happy about having to serve someone who
is within their same social bracket. Nakyum is not a lord, nor an esteemed guest, nor
was he born into any station of respect. To them, Nakyum is just like them… or at least
he OUGHT to be. Doek-Je recalls how he was recently beaten
by Seungho because he believed that Nakyum was trying to escape. And so… because Seungho was so angry that
a boy he’s been tormenting was found trying to escape, he takes it out on the staff. He
literally beats his entire staff because of something that Nakyum was blamed for doing
. Due to one of these routine staff beatings,
Doek-Je claims that he actually lost some of his vision. And rather than blame the guy
who beat the crap out of him, he blames Nakyum. Which is indicative of how the rich will pit
the poor against the poor, in spite of being the reason for poverty in the first place. We’ve seen, as the audience, that this hasn’t
particularly been a picnic for Nakyum. And we’ve seen that all of his privileges come
with a very steep cost. And yet, almost every outsider looking in on the twisted relationship
between Nakyum and Seungho places the blame on Nakyum. Ranging from Nakyum’s quote-unquote ‘choice’
to remain with Seungho, and sometimes even venturing as far to say that Nakyum is explicitly
seducing Seungho to win over his favour. It’s a common element of bitter, short-sighted
people to look at the various benefits that are afforded to others. Take for instance…
a jobs program to make sure inbound refugees have paying work. To some people, that may appear as if they
are being granted privileges that set them far above those who were naturally born into
the country. They see this and think: “My government is doing nothing to help ME. And
yet they help THOSE PEOPLE.” For which they will then resent these landed refugees. And there begins a contemptuous exchange between
these two groups. One group leaning towards nationalism, and the other, pushed into alienation.
All the while, completely ignoring the fact that the controlling powers have every opportunity
to establish a jobs program for everyone. Or even a Universal Basic Income, in countries
that are wealthy enough. However, this is not the only way our culture
is encouraged to resent and envy individuals who are perceived to bite off more than their
fair share. As much as we like to believe that social mobility is a staple of our culture,
we really don’t have anything but contempt for people who prove that rags to riches is
possible. Look at tabloid magazines. They have a very
clear idea of women that are ‘good’ and women that are ‘bad.’ During her heyday,
Jennifer Lopez was made a staunch example of excess, overspending, and lavish lifestyle.
And while the measure of her character is not the debate here, she did grow up in the
projects. Her success may have been one in a million,
but it was still something that she achieved regardless. But — there was a huge audience
of people who wanted nothing more than to know how awful she was for spending her money
the way she did. Jenny from the block, and others like her,
are useful as symbols to project that class mobility is possible. However, as soon as
they transition into the perceived upper echelons of society, they become symbols not of hope,
but envy. Meanwhile, there is little wealth-shaming
projected at people who are already wealthy before they were famous. Nobody bats an eye
about whatever the Kardashians are overspending on. The clearest example I can POSSIBLY think
of is the media demonization of Meghan Markle. This woman has been dragged through the coals
up and down for years. Tabloids attack a black woman for marrying
into wealth — a level of wealth that also includes titles and ceremony. They run photographs
of her which can, with the addition of a sinister headline, make her look sneaky or manipulative. Meanwhile, this same tabloid will run wholesome
family pictures of Prince William and Kate with their children. Somehow in a video about illustrated Korean
gay porn we ended up talking about the House of Windsor. Do you SEE? THIS IS THE KIND OF
INFLUENCE THEY HA— It seems to me that staff beatings at the
Yoon estate are a regular occurrence. At least, nobody seems surprised that it’s happening.
When in reality, there’s nothing stopping the staff from collectively dropping a rock
on Yoon Seungho’s head while he’s asleep. Unions. They work. (Damnit. That’s a good slogan…) However, aside from Doek-Je, other servants
seem to have different opinions on Nakyum. And this is interesting because there is a
very clear division in these responses. Men. Almost universally approach Naykum’s circumstances
with a kind of envy or even jealousy. Whether it’s good food, a warm room, or fine clothes,
or whether it’s Seungho’s favor. Nakyum is receiving treatment they want — he
does not appear to be working as hard as they are. Ergo, he must be... cheating? Somehow... It’s… not really a thought process that
comes from an ability to reason. However. What few women characters exist in the plot
seem to empathize much more with Nakyum. The female servants around the Yoon estate seem
to take a liking to him. And for various reasons, actively deter him from participating in chores,
though he seems to offer. Is this a demand from Seungho? Does Nakyum get in the way?
Or do they understand the circumstances of Nakyums… indenturement…? It would make sense that the characters who
empathize with Nakyum are women. In an overwhelming array of societies around the world, women
have very little in the way of social mobility. If anyone would understand the harrowing effect
of having privileges at the expense of personal agency, it would probably be women. Especially
in this time period. It’s also possible that the author is projecting
herself onto these women in the story, reflecting her own attitudes about Nakyum’s circumstances. Which leads me into the big question about
this story… are all these character interactions deliberately crafted to signify larger, cultural
themes about class, privilege, wealth, heraldry, and social status? Or is it just horny content focused on presenting
the taboo of queer romance where women are meant to project themselves onto the effeminate
man, and all other elements are present to drive as many plot complications as possible
in order to strum up drama? With Killing Stalking, when I asked this question,
it was tokenism. I’m fairly confident in that case, it was a very explicitly crafted
story with clear, projected themes in mind. But honestly… with Painter of the Night?
There’s a lot of evidence pointing one way or the other. But really, whether it’s subliminal anti-classist
propaganda that uses bad-taste porn to radicalize an army of fujoshis, or whether it’s just
bad-taste porn, I don’t think that really makes a difference. On one hand, it’s an author inserting class
discourse into low-brow media. Or — these discussions around class and wealth have permeated
society enough that it’s even finding its way into low-brow media, naturally. Either
way it’s kind of a win, right? This… is where it gets a little muddy, though.
Because while what I have discussed certainly depicts Painter of the Night as a sleeper
socialist recruitment manual of sorts… I haven’t really talked about the optics of
framing techniques in the narrative. Optics. The ‘woke white person’s’ favourite
word. Really though, boiling it down, you’ve got
a story called ‘Painter of the Night.’ And yet, Nakyum, the titular character, has
remarkably little character, no motivations other than self preservation, no indication
of what his life would be if he wasn’t trapped in this situation, he doesn’t express any
desires, nor any drive to really participate in the plot, nor resist it. The story goes
to a much greater length to describe how Nakyum is feminine than what kind of personality
he has. Meanwhile, with Nakyum as a proxy, the reader
is presented to Seungho, who has much more personality, if an inconsistent one. We have
a much clearer idea of Seungho’s motivations. We see Seungho’s character progression.
He holds the active role both in the plot and character dynamics with basically everyone.
And at any available opportunity, Seungho steps in the room and derails whatever conversation
is going on. It seems very clear to me that Nakyum is a
cypher for the audience, namely women, as per Nakyum’s ability to expose Seungho to
said audience. As the story is ongoing, I’m not really able to say how this resolves - if
Seungho continues to be a bit of a psychopath or if he changes — which would help to moralize
his character and problematic elements. Though regardless of whether this is a misapplied
cautionary tale, or a wish-fulfilment nobility-fetish, I think the writing is on the wall about one
thing. Rich man. Literally a rapist. Gaslighting,
abusive, classist. I totally get having taboo fantasies. And
far be it from me to tell someone that they aren’t allowed to draw or write this fantasy
because it’s politically incorrect. That said… there are other ways to depict
a naughty rich-poor gay sex affair. Take, for instance, the alternate universe
spin-off series of Painter of the Night, where Seungho and Nakyum’s social roles are reversed.
As the son of a wealthy family, Nakyum tires to ply his craft as an erotic painter under
a psudeunam, and Seungho is the village pervert getting thrown out of houses by angry fathers.
And here… the little differences make it clear that the author is going for something
a bit more complex than just the porn that this could be easily read as. First of all, as a rich son, Nakyum is a little
bit embarrassed by his dirty art, but he does not have such a shame complex about it. However...
Seungho, by contrast to his main-universe variant, never seems to violate consent. In either case, the author knows how an elevated
station affects either character. From a position of privilege, Seungho has a much greater entitlement
to… what he wants out of people in general. Power and privilege in this case, just takes
elements of his character and twists it into something vile. Nakyum is more or less the same person though.
Power doesn’t corrupt. Power doesn’t always corrupt. It reveals. Someone doesn't become
evil just by gaining power. Power just allows them to do what they always wanted to do. But this does take place in an alternate universe
timeline. So… If only there was some OTHER well-known, nuanced
Korean media which deliberately depicts class conflicts from which we could cross-reference
themes, depictions, and attitudes about wealth and social standing… Parasite. Holy sh*t. I can tell you, I went
into this film with high expectations leading up to the 2019 Oscars and it somehow exceeded
all of them. Parasite is the story of a very poor Family
— the Kims and their children, Ki-Woo and Ki-Jung. Times are hard. From getting swindled
on odd jobs they do, to being a 4-person family living in a literal basement stealing wifi
from their upstairs neighbours on cellphones. Their son manages to find work teaching English
to the daughter of a rich family, the Parks. And the Parks are like… indicated to be
MEGA rich. Like. Korean ELITE. So much so that, as the Kims progressively
hash out plots to replace the Parks’ current staff with themselves, their daughter makes
the process that much easier by creating a fake hiring service that requires you to list
your annual income before you can even be considered. You know, to keep out the only
so-so riches away. And none of the Parks bat an eyelash at that. The scary thing is that these elite services
actually do exist. You know, there’s a ‘facebook for rich people’ which, is a paid service,
but REQUIRES a $20,000 up-front payment to gain entry to. If I had $20,000 you can bet your ass I’d
have better things to spend it on that a social media platform.
And up to this point… yes. Parasite is a tongue-and-cheek showcase of the ways the
wealthy exist in a bubble of complete obliviousness. But when the Parks go out for a camping trip
one weekend, the Kims decide they’re going to live in luxury for a few days. Before this,
the Kims were depicted very positively. Yes, they caused mischief to get a little bit ahead,
but you SAW where they came from, with some comedically heavy-handed metaphors to boot.
You still kinda rooted for them. Especially compared to the Parks. The Kims were in a relatively loving, affectionate
marriage. Mr. Park, however, refused to even say that he loved his wife. The Kim children are shown to have a wide
array of talents and skills. The Park children… The Kims work to find creative ways to solve
problems and do what they need to to survive. The Parks take literally everything for granted
and completely believe that they work harder than others to maintain their status. Though, even while the Kims treat themselves
to a weekend alone in the Parks’ modern manor, in a very short time, they develop
a number of the Parks’ tendencies. Mr. and Mrs. Kim threaten each other with
violence, though play it off as a joke. They take their newfound success for granted. And
they use the weekend to eat lots and drink expensive liquor without any regard to how
anything could go wrong. At which point the former maid, Moon-Gwang
shows up begging to be let in. She immediately goes to a secret basement hidden behind a
shelf in the pantry. As she was a maid who worked in the house from when it was originally
built, she has been keeping her husband there — the whole time in the basement — to
keep him away from loan sharks. Moon-Gwang literally begs on her knees for
Mrs. Kim, who succeeded her as the live-in housekeeper under a pseudonym, to not tell
anyone he is there, and to let her show up, now and then, to care for her husband. She
even offers a bribe. At which point, Ms. Kim not only denies her,
but insults her, threatens to call the police — regardless of the fact that Ms. Kim and
her family, not long ago, were living in similar sort of desperation. Folding pizza boxes and
only getting paid for a fraction of the work. Ms. Kim had been portrayed as a bit of a b*tch
before then… but she was a likable figure. She was never this cold before. The other three Kims were eavesdropping at
the time, and accidentally slip and reveal themselves. Moon-Gwang and her husband record
the event on a phone, and threaten to reveal the whole plot to the Parks. And then the two families find themselves
upstairs. Moon-Gwang and her husband enjoy the merriment the Kims had afforded themselves,
while the Kims cower against the wall like hostages. Moon-Gwang and her husband rave
and recall the glory days of living in the open together, while exchanging compliments
about how powerful they are, waving around the phone they can blackmail the Kims with. A finger hovering over the ‘SEND’ button
compared to a North Korean dictator hovering over the ‘LAUNCH’ button. Moon-Gwang (before: so quiet, respectful,
and soft spoken) is now being compared to a dictator with a nuclear arsenal, and she
is revelling in it. But the Kims take advantage of the distraction, and wrestle the phone
from Moon-Gwang. In an extended full-family wrestling match. At which point it’s curious that these poor
people weren’t even fighting to be successful. They were fighting other poor people for who
will have the PRIVILEGE of licking the rich family’s boots. Just look at what Moon-Gwang’s husband had
been doing underground for the prior decade. He had… for some reason, taken to revering
Mr. Park so strongly that it approaches religious fanaticism. He concluded that the man who
owned the house over the bomb shelter he had spent so long in must be a man of great respect. Mr. Park arrives home every night at the exact
same time. Moon-Gwang’s husband is ready every night to activate the lights leading
up to the living room, and screams his praises to a Lord who cannot hear his reveries between
two meters of concrete. Mr. Park does not know there is a man in the
basement who feels inclined to dedicate his every breath to him. And if he did know, he
probably wouldn’t be a fan of the idea. The point is that the rich are ambivalent
to the poor if they are not DIRECTLY serving or supporting them. And even then, they’re
disposable. Like the driver. Like the housekeeper. And the lights over the stairs leading to
the living room? The ones that Moon-Gwang’s husband ritualistically activates? The Parks
don’t think too much about it. Lights mysteriously turning on? It’s a rich people house. Don’t
worry about it. It’s a rich people house thing. It’s a sensor. Later, when Moon-Gwang’s husband, his wife
now bleeding out after being pushed down the stairs by Mrs. Kim, bashes his bloody head
against the switch to tap out messages in morse code… it’s just the sensor acting
up. Pay it no mind. The literal life or death situations that
poor people are trying to communicate are dismissed as a malfunction. A glitch in the
system. Obscure messages needing to be decoded are just white noise. A byproduct of civilization. Ms. Kim accidentally-on-purpose murdered Moon-Gwang…
over who gets to have the ability to serve a made-up luxury beef ramen bowl to the Parks.
Complaining about how awful the rain is while a woman is dying under their feet. It’s worse than active hatred. It’s complete
ambivalence. Ms. Park praising the rain for clearing out
smog after the Kims have to take refuge from a flood. Mr. Park threatening to fire Mr. Kim if he
doesn’t don a ridiculous outfit to stage a ridiculous skit for a birthday party. And then Mr. Park’s complete disgust at
the sight of the Kim daughter’s blood. Refusing to call for an ambulance, instead demanding
Mr. Kim to give him his car keys so he can get away from the awful sight. Sheepishly
taking them for himself when Mr. Kim would not abandon his dying daughter. The final result is Ms. Kim and her son Ki-Woo
facing criminal charges, after the son endured severe head trauma. Tried, prosecuted, his
sister dead, and his father on the run. He has a brain injury where he laughs chronically. Why wouldn’t he? Smile. Things COULD be
worse. And Mr. Kim? He’s wanted for the murder
of Mr. Park. But it turns out that he’s been hiding in the secret bomb shelter. Living
as Moon-Gwang’s husband once did. Flicking on the lights for the new homeowners and sobbing
in grief to a magazine cutout of Mr. Park, who he regrets murdering, and misses dearly.
Reveres… even. There is no change. No resolution. A couple
faces were swapped. Nothing gained; nothing lost. BUT! There is hope… Nick: “For a better future?” PFFT. No. There’s hope that someday Ki-Woo will be
able to go back to school, be successful himself and one day buy that house so his father can
live in the light once more. But that’s just a dream. It’s just a hope. He has hope
that he will succeed in the system, so why does anything need to change? There… aren’t any heroes in this story.
This isn’t a story of how this one rich family was terrible. This was a story about
a social structure which permits this family to be this rich while these poor families
could be this poor. And how, at the end of it, the system only recognizes the rich people
as victims. The same set of laws which allowed the Parks
to be as wealthy as they were, were the set of laws which punished the Kims for doing
what they had to do the scrape by. Did the Kims get a bit too ambitious by replacing
the whole household staff? Did they bite off too much? Did they get too greedy? Maybe. But if petty drama to fire a few people is
greed… what does that make the Parks? Who have indicatively more than enough expendable
income to support all six poor people. Pay off their loans, pay for their wifi. Send
the Kim kids to school — it’s clear that they have the talent for it, but not the finances. In a system where you can be as talented,
motivated, and driven to pull off all the sh*t Kims managed to pull off — why do we
punish them for not having any options for how to use their talents? The film is called parasite because everyone
is one. The Kims, yes, leach off of the Parks. But the Parks have been leaching off of countless
families like the Kims. In class dynamics, parasites BEGET parasites. Which is worse? The ones who feed for their
survival? Or ones who feed for excess? The film’s answer is intended to be obvious. But, most unsettlingly, what does the film
suggest about the Kims’ son vowing to become successful enough to one day purchase the
house his father is trapped in? Does his goal make his quest for success any more noble
than why Mr. Park chose to be so wealthy? We’ve seen how the Kims respond to privileges,
even imaginary ones. Who is the junior Kim going to have to become to fulfill his promise
to his father? By survival, the cycle continues. By success,
the cycle continues. Greed begets envy. Envy begets desperation. And that desperation begets
criminal labels on people who cannot succeed within the established system. What interests me is the fact that there are
so many parallel themes across Parasite and Painter of the Night. An Oscar winning film,
and an online comic. A modern day parable, and a historic erotica. Furthermore, that
a historic depiction of Feudal Korea contains the same structures of inescapable inequality
as a modern depiction of South Korea under capitalism. Because it’s not as if the circumstances
around wealth and privilege in Parasite AND Painter of the Night are just made up. For
many people, the Kim’s lives ARE a reality. There are plenty of desperate people willing
to do desperate things to survive, and even more desperate things to thrive. I grew up
with those people. A lot of things I had as a kid “fell off the back of a truck”. And Nakyum’s circumstances can be found
in a SHOCKING number of relationships. How many people stay with abusive partners because
they feel like they have no other option? That someone else might treat them worse.
The monster you don’t know is scarier than the monster you do know. And so it comes down to power. In Parasite,
the Kims have no power. In Painter of the Night, Nakyum has no power. And so they must
rely on people who do have power. And in our world, power and wealth are synonymous. The queer community has forever been in the
shoes of Nakyum and the Kims. No power. Begging the powerful to let us have some scraps so
that we might survive. To make our relationships legitimate in the eyes of the law. To make
killing us a hate crime. To make our very existence legal. And those in power, mostly straight white
men, have the ability to make us do whatever they want in exchange for said scraps. Because
of desperation. The desperation of the powerless leads to disturbing things. The desperation of Nakyum to endure assault,
gaslighting, and rape in exchange for some amount of comfort. The desperation of the
Kims to throw other people in their social standing under the bus so that they can have
a vacation in a house that the owners of… take vacations from. The desperation of people
all over the world, fleeing wars, climate disasters, murderous governments, and fascism. I wanted to make this video because I read
an online comic with gay themes and thought I’d talk about it. Hell, with the third
season coming up, YouTube’s algorithm might even be nice to this video. But the more Nick and I dug into the subtext
of Painter of the Night, the more I realized that it’s not just a very well drawn porn.
On the surface, yes, absolutely. Porn. But under the surface, and not even that deep
down, there was a very intriguing commentary on class, society, and the desperate actions
of the powerless. The ongoing war of rich VS poor. Of the powerful vs the powerless.
Of the people who own things… and the people who own nothing. If you’re watching this video you’re very
likely a part of that second group. We’re all fighting back against a system set up
to keep us in a very specific place in society. With just enough hope to keep us going, but
not nearly enough opportunity for all of us to succeed. For all of us to reach the heights
of our potential. With the rich having their way, they’ll
have us attacking each other for scraps of opportunities. Hope has very limited vacancies. There is always a system, a Park Family, a
Seungho, keeping us in our place. Making sure we don’t reach too far, don’t ask for
too much. Not without their permission. Not without them controlling it, or at least owning
a piece of it. Telling us that we should be grateful that they give us the opportunity
to work for them, to create for them. The privileged get what they want. Whether
it’s tax breaks for hoarding wealth, a trip to space, or someone’s body. And, unsettlingly, it’s incredibly cost-effective
for rich people to just change the rules so they can get exactly what they want. If they
even feel the need. After all. If the punishment for a crime is just a fine, then that’s
a crime the rich can get away with. And isn’t that what we’re made to think
the entire purpose of wealth is? Being afforded opportunities to get what you want. No matter
what. The more you have, the more you can get away with. And it’s this pivotal association that I
think is so toxic. Wealth should buy comfort — not power. And certainly not survival. Our freedom — our agency is determined by
people who already have the freedom to do just about anything they want. As individuals, we may not have a lot of power.
But our strength is in Our cooperation. Our numbers. The rich know how powerful numbers
can be, and that’s why they do everything they can to divide us. To create as many minority
categories as possible. To pit the middle class against the poor. The poor against the
destitute. But if we could just, for a moment, show them
how powerful we can be together. There’s no telling the change we can bring.
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