Written and directed by Cho Ui-seok | Co-written by Kim Hyun-duk

I can’t help myself—I have to begin by noting how striking Lee Byung-hun looks with blond hair. It may seem like a small detail, yet it lingers, a quiet reminder of the subtle ways he continually reinvents himself. I’ve admired his body of work for years, here’s to my Mr. Sunshine! And in this production, his presence carries a distinctive touch that feels both playful and refreshing.

Corruption has long been a defining theme in Korean cinema, unsurprising, perhaps, given the realities of recent decades. Time and again, films remind us that in the democratic era, those who occupy positions of corporate, political, or judicial power are rarely figures the public can trust. Cho Ui-seok’s Master pushes this indictment further still. Its antagonist, a sleazy, heartless conman, projects himself as a dazzling international figure, promising prosperity to the vulnerable even as he plots to strip them of what little remains. The officials who pursue him, cerebral detectives from the financial fraud division, are determined to expose his crimes, but their tactics show they are not entirely immune to playing the same manipulative game.

Anchored by three of South Korea’s most celebrated actors, Lee Byung-hun, Gang Dong-won, and Kim Woo-bin, Master unfolds almost like a triptych, the balance of power shifting constantly among its leads. Park, the systems analyst, drifts between self-interest and conscience, wavering until he can no longer avoid choosing a side. Meanwhile, Kim and Jin orchestrate their cerebral game of pursuit and evasion, each advance met with a counter, each retreat opening another door. Theirs is a contest of wits, but also a descent into a murky world where ideals bend beneath pressure.

At its heart, Master is a timely reflection on those who exploit desperation by offering impossible promises of wealth and stability. Yet the film sometimes falters, leaving its weightiest themes hovering in the background while focusing more intently on the mechanics of its cat-and-mouse intrigue and fractured alliances. At 143 minutes, it occasionally struggles with pacing, but finds new momentum in its Manila-set finale. This last act shifts into high gear, trading in its meditations on corruption for spectacle, energy, and resolution.

Image courtesy of CJ Entertainment