The news of Na Hong-jin’s first film in 10 years was more than enough to give cinephiles a bit of hope to cling onto. How apt is it that the film is also titled Hope? Hong-jin’s latest once again finds the writer-director exploring profound ideas about humanity through a litany of methods, all of which reveal themselves in ways more exciting than the last. It won’t take long for any audience member to recognize they’re watching one of the best action films of 2026. How wonderful is it to also realize that, over the course of another 100 minutes or so, Hong-jin is also delivering an excellent investigative thriller, a very fun buddy cop comedy, an impeccable survival horror film, and a lofty sci-fi spectacle all rolled up into one? Quite frankly, Hope represents cinema at its most exciting potential. With full-fledged belief in an idea, there’s no swing too big. And Hope is taking complete advantage of the at-bat opportunity it has been provided. Something like Hope is bound to alienate some audience members within its own distinct choices. But at its best, this is the beautiful sort of film that encourages any audience member to completely give themselves over to.
If you haven’t seen Hope, despite my desire to not outwardly reveal anything in the film, it’s a roller coaster ride best experienced with fresh eyes. I’d recommend returning to this piece after seeing the film!
Hong-jin expressed his interest in “wanting to look at humans from a higher perspective” while approaching this film. His decision to take such a literal and genre-forward approach to this sentiment simply rocks. It’s something that has certainly been done before, but the way Hong-jin goes about doing so with such gusto is what makes it feel so idiosyncratic. Beyond that choice, the characters in Hope ground the entire film to marvelous effect. Hope primarily revolves around three central characters, police chief Bum-seok (Hwang Jung-min), local hunter Sung-ki (Zo In-sung), and immediate action icon, the super-cop-seeming Sung-ae (Hoyeon). They all quickly stumble into a predicament in and around Hope Harbor, a small town full of mainly elderly located near the DMZ. Hong-jin wastes little to no time getting straight to business here. The initial intrigue is set up, and within moments, Hope is off to the races and operating at its own rhythms.
As the central conflict of Hope seemingly becomes more and more unmanageable for the likes of this ragtag group, each member of the trio grapples with the circumstances in their own distinct way. Through such a striking scenario, Hong-jin provides the opportunity for genuine reflection that works wonderfully both on and off screen. And what’s most impressive about the exploration of such raw human emotion across the spectrum in this film is just how “all-gas, no brakes” Hope remains for a majority of its runtime. Make no mistake: this is a full-fledged action film, essentially made up of wildly extended bookending set pieces that run the gamut of style, genre, and tone. And what links the whole experience, beyond the central themes of the film, is the impeccable craft on display.
If the characters of the film immediately seem unfathomably out of their depth, it’s abundantly clear Hong-jin and his collaborators are not. In fact, they appear to be putting many contemporary peers in blockbuster filmmaking to shame. Hong-jin and cinematographer Hong Kyung-pyo never allow you a moment to breathe once they fall into the grooves of their set-pieces. When chaos is embroiling the frame, the camera is practically whipping all over the place while never losing a sense of spatial awareness within the geography of its setting. It’s deeply impressive to think of just how much movement is occurring in any single given scene of Hope, and how attentive the camera is when following those actions. As such, the action is immediately enthralling, and you never lose your footing because of the excellent direction on display. The only time uneasiness settles into our minds due to the direction is specifically when Hong-jin provides the opportunity to slow down for but a breath. Even in the moments his characters aren’t running towards (or often, away) from something, the lingering camera invokes a genuine dread. Both characters and audience alike are so in the dark on what’s occurring that, when the camera holds in a moment of extended silence, we can’t help but worry about what’s coming next. It’s gripping action at its finest, VFX be damned. There’s been much discussion surrounding the VFX of this film since its Cannes premiere, but I’d argue it largely doesn’t matter all that much in the grand scheme of things. Everything surrounding the VFX is simply too well-staged to remain a damper on the film’s overall effect.
Another wonderful surprise coming out of Hope is realizing just how much this shockingly has in common with Disclosure Day. I’m not going to even pretend to pigeon hole this massive film as just another sci-fi film grappling with empathy. But it is fascinating how much both films immediately set up a central genre conceit, and then force both characters and audience to completely be on board for the aftermath that transpires because of such a conceit. And both exist in that beautiful space where we must acknowledge the notion of giving ourselves over to something greater than the reality we have believed for so long. Can’t the same be said about cinema at large? If we think of Hong-jin’s desire to “look at humans from a higher perspective,” that’s effectively what any filmmaker does through their film. In both cases of these 2026 big-budget sci-fi/action films, one primary question is being asked: How do we process the inconceivable? While the characters in each respective film do so, the film itself also challenges its audience to do the same with radical empathy. Hope is ultimately a film that you can’t possibly imagine how far it’s willing to extend its own premise and ideas, and it does so to thrilling and joyous effect.