A faux-Gucci bag filled with money, half a dozen eccentric characters, an abundance of violence and the good sense to weave it all together are the essential components of Beasts Clawing at Straws (Korean: 지푸라기라도 잡고 싶은 짐승들), the deliriously funny and perverted dark comedy by South Korean filmmaker  Kim Yong-hoon, who crafted one of the most unforgettable crime films of the year in this strange but enticing urban adventure. Taking its cue from some of the finest entries into the genre by weaving together the stories of a few different characters who are all strangers to one another, but united by a common goal (or in this case, a shared desire), Beasts Clawing at Straws is a wildly inventive look into the world of contemporary crime, taken from a distinctly twisted perspective that puts us through the emotional wringer, while still giving us the joy of seeing everything come together coherently. There is an effortlessness to what Kim manages to do with this premise, keeping it fresh and enduring throughout, but not being too excessive in either narrative or form, keeping everything within the confines of a wider set of ideas that keeps it contained and straightforward, determined to unravel the mysteries that underpin the film, while still giving us the experience of seeing it all executed with precision. One of the most tightly-constructed thrillers of recent years, and an ode to a long lineage of darkly satirical crime films, Beasts Clawing at Straws is an absolute triumph, and further proof that the cinema of South Korea has been consistently producing incredible work, much of it going almost entirely unnoticed in off-shore markets, who would greatly benefit from sampling from the bizarre but enticing chaos that many filmmakers like Kim inspire throughout their films.

What is even more impressive about this film is that it is the directorial debut for Kim, who establishes himself as someone to watch, even from the outset. It takes a lot of effort to put together something that has even a fraction of complexity as Beasts Clawing at Straws. Telling one such story is difficult enough, so weaving together three (or more, depending on how you delineate the film and its characters, with a variety of them being woven into each narrative, taking on their own individual subplots without necessarily becoming the primary focus at any given moment), is an accomplishment that warrants celebrating. Yet, we don’t see any of the signs that the process was difficult – the film flows with a remarkable consistency, creating the sensation that what we’re seeing is done without much travail, each component being genuine and fitting perfectly in this varied mosaic of crime. Kim’s gifts as a filmmaker are seen right from the start, and we watch with bated breath as he celebrates the nuances of the crime thriller genre, while simultaneously deconstructing its more notable quirks, which he does often enough for Beasts Clawing at Straws to eventually become an intimidating entry into the genre on its own terms. A film like this couldn’t exist without being in full communion with the overarching themes that define this kind of filmmaking, but also one that isn’t afraid to go against these ideas if it believes it has something to say about them, Kim’s work here is absolutely impeccable, but constructed with a renegade sincerity that showed that, not only is he able to comment on the genre’s weaknesses, but also make exceptional use of its strengths, creating a vivid and unforgettable tapestry that feels essential when looking at how crime fiction is portrayed from a modern literary perspective.

Compacted with a darkly comical approach to criminal behaviour, which the director provokes by gradually pulling away each individual layer that covers its pitch-black heart, the film eventually becomes a harrowing look into the trials and tribulations of ordinary people in contemporary South Korea, those who are comfortable enough to not need to seek out alternative means to make money (especially if they require additional effort, and a decent day’s work), but desperate enough to jump at the opportunity to earn it quickly. The comedy that underpins the film is blisteringly funny, but also incredibly bleak, which makes it all the more disconcerting that Kim was able to derive laughter from what is essentially an endlessly harrowing story about a group of individuals showing not only endless apathy towards their fellow citizen, but also a complete lack of remorse for any actions they take that helps put them ahead, even if it gets quite violent at times. There seems to be no limit to the extents to which these characters will go to get their way, and all of this is reflected in even the most intricate corners of the film, which are just as hauntingly dark as the general themes that guide it. Kim has a particular attention to detail that feels genuinely quite disconcerting, especially when we realize how this film isn’t only using violence as a way to get to the more palatable, likeable aspects of the film – we’re enveloped by gruesome, harrowing images of death and torture which may be more comical than they are terrifying, but still repulse us enough to not want to form much of a connection with any of these characters or their reasons for trying to get ahead. It’s an effective strategy, but not one that is necessarily admirable, since it lends a darkness to the film that many viewers could do without – but how can cinema be effective if it doesn’t take the opportunity to shock us from time to time?

Beasts Clawing at Straws is constructed as something of a puzzle – there are three main storylines, but we only realize midway through that they aren’t necessarily occurring concurrently, or in any order that makes sense at first. We piece together the paltry fragments we’re presented with in the first half, and watch in astonishment (or marvel in surprise) as they fall into place in ways that many would not have expected. Kim has a peculiar way of showing the progress of time, and it takes quite a while for everything to reach a logical crescendo – and even after that, there are still elements of the film that feel somewhat more inconsistent, although effectively so. We never quite know where we stand with these characters – the ensemble cast is doing some incredible work in never clarifying who is the hero and villain in each individual scenario. There are even instances where a character is the former at one moment, before descending into the latter without a moment’s notice – and not even the most peripheral character in the film goes unexplored, each one having their own moments to make an indelible impression, without distracting from the central storyline. This may not make much sense on its own, but it almost goes without saying that, when shown in context, it’s perfectly effective, and carries an intelligent approach to exploring some interesting themes, which is often missing in the crime thriller genre, which usually depends on the spectacle more than it does provoke much thought. However, it’s not that anyone expects these films to do so – this is what makes Beasts Clawing at Straws so special, since it goes in many different directions without losing its more earnest qualities. It has a bitterly funny sense of humour that creates a jarring contrast with the ultra-violent aesthetic of the film, which can be quite shocking for those not expecting to see the extent to which Kim takes this material in an effort to elevate it beyond mere tradition.

The manner with which Kim takes on the genre, but still stays within the preconceived boundaries for the most part, creates an unforgettable and vivid image that is difficult to look beyond at times, but which lingers with us much longer than some of the more conventional versions of such stories. Making use of a fantastic cast, and a razor-sharp script, Beasts Clawing at Straws is a bitingly funny, and endlessly shocking, blend of violent crime and darkly comical satire that hints at some broader issues that feel far more compelling than the more common thrillers that tend to be more notable based purely on the spectacle that they offer. Kim is a relentlessly talented young filmmaker – his work here is impeccable, forming it with a genuine interest in the material, while still establishing his own voice behind the camera, which is essential, even in the earliest stages of one’s career. Combining the tropes of the comedy-of-errors with a relentlessly violent approach to storytelling (to the point where it borders on nihilistic), Beasts Clawing at Straws is a terrific example of the originality that can be borne from seeing a gap in a genre that is already quite saturated, and exploiting it with a fervent dedication that can only lead to an utterly brilliant, and entirely unforgettable, work of socially-charged, gruesome commentary that takes us on a journey into the darkest recesses of the human condition, and seems to have a good time doing so, which makes this even more of a disconcerting, but endlessly effective, experience.