The Korean Thriller That Made Koreans Uncomfortable — Na Hong-jin Series #1
K-Drama & Film
The Chaser (2008) is not just one of the greatest Korean thrillers ever made — it’s the film that forced Korea to look at itself, and didn’t let it look away.
When it opened in Korean theaters, the reaction wasn’t just cinematic shock. The memory of serial killer Yoo Young-chul — who murdered 21 people across Seoul between 2003 and 2004 — had not yet faded. The police had been slow. The victims, mostly women on the margins of society, had been ignored. What audiences saw on screen was not fiction. It was a mirror.
What the Film Actually Hit
The protagonist, Eom Joong-ho, is a former detective turned pimp. There is no morally clean corner to him. When he starts searching for his missing women, his motivation isn’t concern — it’s money. He treats them as assets he can’t afford to lose.
Korean cinema had never done this before. Asking an audience to follow someone with no redeemable quality for two hours — and making it work — was its own kind of provocation.
The police are worse. Incompetent, bureaucratic, bound by procedure even with a killer in the room. This wasn’t just a plot device. In early 2000s Korea, distrust of law enforcement was real and deep. The Chaser put it on screen without apology.
And then the film’s most brutal choice: the killer is caught, but the victim isn’t saved. No catharsis. Just rage. Na Hong-jin wanted you to leave the theater still angry. It worked.
As for what happens to the last female victim — that’s something you have to see for yourself. It cannot be described here.
Na Hong-jin’s Direction
The Chaser is a debut film. It doesn’t look like one.
The handheld camera chases the actors through the alleyways. The editing doesn’t rush — it lingers, uncomfortably long. The action sequences aren’t smooth. They’re messy, physical, exhausting. The kind of contact that hurts to watch.
The location matters too. The alleyways of Hongje-dong in Seoul — narrow, dark, labyrinthine. This is not a backdrop. It’s an argument. There is nowhere to run. No Hollywood production could recreate this texture, because it isn’t constructed. It’s real.
The Theme That Runs Through His Entire World — Evil Is Never Explained
The Chaser drew 5.16 million admissions. Number one at the Korean box office that year. For a debut film, that had never happened before.
But the number is less important than what the film left behind.
Na Hong-jin’s worldview starts here: evil is not explained. The killer Ji Young-min has no backstory, no trauma, no motive the film bothers to give you. He simply is. This choice repeats in The Yellow Sea, and reaches its full expression in The Wailing. Na Hong-jin’s villains are always incomprehensible. That is precisely what makes them terrifying.
The Chaser was also the first proof that Korean genre cinema could travel — that specificity of place, social texture, and moral ambiguity were not barriers to international audiences, but advantages.
What to Know Before You Watch
You don’t need to know the real case to feel the film. But knowing it changes the experience. Na Hong-jin chose this subject for his first feature deliberately. That weight comes through in every frame.
The Chaser is available on Netflix.
If you want to go deeper into the real case behind the film, Netflix’s docuseries The Raincoat Killer: Chasing a Predator in Korea covers the Yoo Young-chul investigation in full. Watch the documentary, then watch the film. The two sit very differently once you’ve seen both.
Na Hong-jin has never made a film that lets you off the hook. If you want to understand what HOPE (2026) is likely to do to its audience, start here.
HOPE (2026) — Why Na Hong-jin Went to Hollywood →
If you have questions about Na Hong-jin’s films or Korean cinema, leave them in the comments — I’ll cover them in a future post.
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