Peninsula
SHUDDERYeon Sang-ho follows up his surprising and critically acclaimed 2016 hit Train to Busan with the much-anticipated Peninsula. As of yet, Peninsula is the third feature in Sang-ho's growing franchise and while this is undoubtedly a fun and entertaining follow up, it is simply not in the same league as Sang-ho’s genre masterpiece.
It needs to be noted, straight off the bat, that this is not the same film as Train to Busan. Anyone going into Yeon Sang-ho's film wanting either a replica or a feature cut from the same cloth is sadly going to be both underwhelmed and disappointed. It is arguably Peninsula's greatest positive and the most trivial problem. Following up Train to Busan with a direct sequel and the same narrative is the quickest way to failure, so Yeon Sang-ho avoids this by crafting a new direction for the rules and world of Seoul Station and Train to Busan.
The problem here is that it is the balance of change and tone that has been previously implemented is both far off the mark and excessively different. It often feels that this venture has nothing to do with its two predecessors. It is not just the genre and setting that made Train to Busan what it is, but its restraint, simplistic and organic nature with an authentic screenplay that highlighted characters randomly coming together to survive. Everything but is present in Peninsula.
A film that crafts itself on derivative coincidence with every step it can and a thematic prowess so sickly and sweet, the film can't help but once again try and replicate the emotional climax of its predecessor with overly forceful and opaque results. For what starts as something in a very familiar and terrifyingly intimate fashion to Train to Busan, soon evolves into something more action and survival horror orientated – something in the same vein as 28 Days Later. At this point, the feature does a wonderful job at crafting an emotional connection between character and audience but also struts its newfound tone.
Gone is the conscious and central figurehead of character, and in its wake, the film presents one-note and redundant characters who do little aside from implemented faux character depth. Kang Dong-won and Lee Re as Jung-seok and Joon, respectively, have the most weight and, therefore, are more engaging characters for an audience to be drawn towards. The former, in particular, for the first half of the film is the central figurehead of the feature’s emotional weight but is not only overshadowed with the charisma and connection of the latter, but their performance goes unconsciously silent as the film progresses — the one character the film has presented as its lead falls away to the sidelines.
However, as soon the film moves into its second act, everything evolves into newfound territory with poor results. First and foremost, the sheer lack of practical effects and authentic setting kills all immersion and atmosphere due to the video game CGI implemented. A lacking exploration of setting, hidden by a cheaply crafted dark and gritty aesthetic, does little to highlight the cinematography and production design from Lee Hyung-deok and Lee Mok-won. Paired with a Fast and Furious-esque side plot and the most absurd, coincidentally connected survivours imaginable, everything the viewer had in mind for Peninsula is slowly drained into predictability and a poorly crafted screenplay from Ryu Yong-jae.
That being said, not all is underwhelming. If Train to Busan is comparable to George Miller's 1979 Mad Max, then Peninsula is Mad Max: Thunderdome – in places, it has an almost verbatim influence. An interesting element to showcase: the duality of man and the slow descent into madness, as well as practical social distress that is still thriving. However, Yeon Sang-ho and Ryu Yong-jae almost feel scared to dig deeper and, instead of crafting a brooding thematic weight, showcase CGI dominance and underwhelming car action sequences that Dom Toretto would have his jaw dropped watching.
All in all, Peninsula is the antithesis of what made Train to Busan the masterpiece it is. Gone is the intimacy of character and, in its wake, the audience is gifted a film conscious of what it showcases, with a mixture between John Wick meets Fast and Furious with Mad Max thrown in for good measure. A tonal mood that, on paper, sounds exceptional but is worked into a poorly crafted feature that disappoints on more levels than one.
