Deeply rooted in Korean shamanism and local superstition.
Na Hong-jin’s The Wailing is not merely a horror film; it is a sprawling, three-hour fever dream that weaponizes ambiguity itself. Set in the bucolic, mist-shrouded mountain village of Gokseong, the film follows Jong-goo, a clumsy and skeptical police officer thrust into a waking nightmare. A mysterious, rash-like illness begins to grip the villagers, transforming the afflicted into homicidal, feral beings. As the violence escalates, whispers point to a reclusive Japanese stranger living in the nearby woods—a figure many suspect is a demon, a yokai , or a gumiho .
Set in the remote mountain village of Goksung, South Korea, the film follows Sergeant Jong-goo, a well-meaning but somewhat bumbling police officer. A mysterious sickness begins to spread through the village, causing residents to become violent, murder their families, and then fall into a trance-like state. Rumors circulate that a Japanese stranger, who recently arrived in town, is a ghost or evil spirit responsible for the plague.
When Na Hong-jin’s The Wailing (Gokseong) hit theaters in 2016, it didn’t just join the ranks of great South Korean thrillers—it redefined the boundaries of the folk horror genre. Spanning over two and a half hours, the film is an exhaustive, terrifying, and deeply cryptic journey into the heart of evil, blending police procedural elements with supernatural chaos. The Plot: A Slow Descent into Madness
The cinematography by Hong Kyung-pyo (who later shot Parasite ) is breathtaking. The lush, rain-soaked mountains of South Korea become a character in themselves—beautiful yet predatory. The sound design, particularly during the iconic "dual ritual" scene, is deafening and hypnotic, dragging the viewer into the same sensory overload experienced by the characters. Why It Remains a Classic
Set in the remote, misty village of Gokseong, the story follows Jong-goo, a bumbling and somewhat cowardly police officer. The village is suddenly gripped by a series of gruesome murders and a mysterious, skin-rotting disease. The locals begin to suspect a newcomer—a quiet Japanese stranger living in the woods.
What distinguishes The Wailing from conventional possession narratives is its radical refusal to offer certainty. Na Hong-jin masterfully deconstructs the detective genre; each clue Jong-goo uncovers only deepens the labyrinth. The film becomes a brutal chess match between three forces: the suspected Japanese demon, a shaman named Il-gwang hired to perform a bloody exorcism, and a mysterious, pale-skinned woman in white who warns of a trap laid by a "deadly ghost."
The film also touches on xenophobia, as the villagers' immediate distrust of the Japanese stranger reflects historical and social tensions. Yet, Na Hong-jin refuses to give the audience easy answers, leaving the true identity of the "villain" debated by fans to this day. Visuals and Sound: Crafting the Atmosphere
The Wailing culminates in one of the most harrowing sequences in modern horror: a claustrophobic, rain-soaked standoff in a ruined home where faith, doubt, and desperation collide. The ending offers no catharsis, only the cold realization that some evils are beyond understanding. By blending visceral gore, slapstick humor (Jong-goo is a reluctant, bumbling hero), and profound spiritual dread, Na Hong-jin crafted a masterpiece about the limits of human reason and the terror of not knowing whom to trust—including yourself.