Slithering Shadows: A Gripping Dive into 'Serpent’s Path' at Busan

Kiyoshi Kurosawa has decided to take a nostalgic stroll down memory lane—or should I say a labyrinthine journey—updating his 1998 crime thriller. This time, he’s swapping Tokyo’s neon lights for the romantic shadows of France. And if you thought that directors remaking their own films in different languages would be a smooth ride, well, think again! Let’s just say that recent cinematic history hasn’t been kind to these ventures. With mishaps like Michael Haneke’s *Funny Games* and George Sluizer’s *The Vanishing* leaving us wondering, "What were they thinking?", the stakes feel high. But just when we think we understand the game, Kurosawa throws us a curveball with *Serpent’s Path*.

This latest offering, while murky and overlong—a bit like that cup of coffee you forgot about in the back of the cupboard—does stand on its own feet, or at least, it stumbles gracefully. In this French reimagining, we dive deep into human anguish, something that the original—drenched in genre formalism—forgot to unpack. It was like a well-dressed party guest who forgot to bring a gift, or worse, the gift was a tacky souvenir.

Once we peel back the layers, we find ourselves grappling with a more refined product. Shot back to back with *Eyes of the Spider*, this version erupted into Japanese theaters back in June and it is filled to the brim with big-name talent both from Japan and France. It’s like a gourmet dish trying too hard to impress but winds up tasting the same as everything else. While devoted fans of Kurosawa and aficionados of Japanese genre cinema will find solace in this remake, admiring the French stars like Damien Bonnard and Mathieu Amalric may leave one feeling like they missed the punchline of a complex joke.

Interestingly, this film follows soon after Kurosawa’s Japanese title *Cloud* had its debut at Venice—no slouch in the awards department, it’s Japan’s official Oscar nomination. It also marks Kurosawa's return to France after the understated yet eerily compelling *Daguerrotype*, which featured Amalric as well. But here’s where things get particularly gut-wrenching: we meet Albert Bacheret, played with a brooding intensity by Bonnard, whom you can’t help but feel compassion for as he seeks vengeance for the heart-wrenching murder of his young daughter.

He’s not alone, though—enter Sayoko Nijima (a cool and composed Ko Shibasaki), a therapist who navigates the hospital room like a cast member from *Grey’s Anatomy*, lending Albert a helping hand and a generous dose of tragedy. Together, they embark on a scheme that feels a bit like a twisted romantic comedy gone wrong. Their victim? Laval (oh, Matthew Amalric, how you shine), an accountant for a foundation that hints at humanitarian efforts but, much like a too-good-to-be-true dating profile, may be hiding a dark side.

The film’s tension escalates as individuals unexpectedly find themselves embroiled in this web of chaos—each teetering on the edge of guilt or innocence, all viewed through the dramatic lens of human agony. Yet a nagging question lingers: what’s cooking in Sayoko’s mind? Our voyeuristic curiosity is piqued as we watch her dodge calls from her estranged partner, my, my, talk about awkward. Her connection to the larger narrative remains elusive, cloaked in mystery—similar to attempting to understand the thinking of someone who parks in the compact car spaces when they drive a gigantic SUV.

The original *Serpent's Path* was a lean and mean chamber piece, set in an industrial wasteland—an archetypical “Abandoned Warehouse” thriller. Remakes, however, tend to add layers that can either elevate the piece or weigh it down with the baggage of expectation. In this case, while we’re treated to a complex female character, Sayoko has an air of the ‘other,’ a character whose icy demeanor could easily fit into a European stereotype of Asian ruthlessness. Yet paradoxically, this keeps us guessing about the malevolence that brews beneath her poised exterior.

In this revisit, Kurosawa flips the narrative—turning European violence and corporate complicity into the real horror story. It’s quite a shift, as the original's minimalist pulp charm laid at least some groundwork for our emotional engagement. Now, we face a Theatre of Cruelty that feels almost too real, forcing audiences to grapple with the uncomfortable truth that Albert’s own monstrous transformation parallels the people he seeks to punish.

This remake, in striving for depth, nails down psychological nuances that will undoubtedly keep viewers on the edge of their seats—or clenching their popcorn with a blend of horror and fascination. In unmasking human pain, this film suffers from a paradox: it invites empathy while simultaneously making it uncomfortable to watch. Much like a family reunion, filled with tension yet fueled by love, *Serpent's Path* invites us into its convoluted narrative with all its dark flamboyance, leaving us captivated and quizzically pondering the many shades of morality in an oft-skewed world.