Thirst
The vampire mythology is one of extraordinary popularity, especially with the Twilight series and other narratives getting the kids going these days. Indeed, vampires have never really faded from popularity and have gone through a lot of transformations since Bram Stoker diagnosed vampirism as a sort of disease. In his narrative, vampirism was a sort of condition. It sprang to popularity in a time of tuberculosis and syphilis.
Unfortunately, the notion of vampirism as a disease is often absent from today’s vampire works. The likes of Anne Rice and Stephenie Meyer turned vampirism into something almost desirable, something sexy and suave in construct. Luckily there are pictures and visions that free us from that tedium, with Park Chan-wook’s Thirst serving as a strong example of vampires done right.
Sang-hyun (Song Kang-ho) is a Catholic priest. He volunteers at the hospital, helping sick patients even as he doubts his faith. In order to help find a cure for the deadly Emmanuel Virus, Sang-hyun volunteers to assist. He is infected with the virus and, after a blood transfusion, finds himself healthy and stronger than ever. He also has an ability to heal and a thirst for blood, which, as you might imagine, leads to some complications.
Sang-hyun soon becomes attracted to Tae-ju (Kim Ok-bin) after meeting her through her husband Kang-woo (Shin Ha-kyun). She is attracted to him, too, and before he knows it he begins breaking many of his vows as a priest. Sang-hyun soon lets Tae-ju in on his little vampire secret and she becomes intrigued, wanting to experience it for herself to escape her dreary and tortured existence.
The story, written by Chan-wook and Jeong Seo-Kyeong, is one that takes the vampire mythology seriously. It is at once goofy, strange, romantic, funny, and frightening. The lifestyle of the vampire is presented as a steady slide away from morality, one that becomes even starker when a priest becomes the bloodsucking demon.
Thirst is compelling in how it presents the good nature of the priest. He starts out wanting to be a good man of God, of course, trying to help Tae-ju. But he can’t resist the pull of raw animal lust he feels after he becomes a vampire, so his walk on the wild side soon overtakes him. Tae-ju is more than ready to escape her life as an abused wife and daughter, so it doesn’t take much to pull her to the dark side. Her transformation is frightening in how quickly she becomes a murderous tyrant.
Chan-wook keeps us on edge throughout Thirst. There’s always something uneasy in the air and the bloody scenes are often startling in their sudden cruelty. This is not a glamorous vampire picture, thank goodness, and Chan-wook’s command of the violent satiation required is unflinchingly visceral. The sex, too, lines up with the movie’s varying tones; it is at sometimes funny and sweet, but it quickly turns toward ferocity and spitefulness.
Thirst, like the impeccable Let the Right One In, refreshes because it presents a vampire mythology from a unique perspective. Instead of focusing in twinkling, sunny, hairless chests and lame fangs, Thirst focuses on the duty of vampirism and the consequent moral dilemmas one might face. For some, like Tae-ju, the ethical quandaries are virtually non-existent. For the rest of us, however, we may face a few more questions about ourselves before we drain our inescapable prey.
