Years before feral swine were making the news or going viral on social media, South Korea’s war with boars was foretold in Shin Jung-won’s Chaw (Chawz in the U.S.). This 2009 film, which is as relevant today as it was back then, demonstrates the consequences of man tampering with nature and how nature decidedly bites back. Although largely filmed in California — Nicasio, Petaluma, San Francisco, and San Geronimo, to be more specific — the story of Chaw takes place in a fictional Korean village called Sam-mae-ri. A city-weary police officer from Seoul (Uhm Tae-woong) has been relocated to the countryside, and upon his arrival, his first duty is to wrangle a mysterious beast wreaking havoc and eating locals.
Officer Kim Kang-soo (Uhm) made the mistake of not being specific with his relocation preferences on a job transfer. Putting “anywhere” as his second choice is why he, his pregnant wife, and his eccentric mother all end up in Sam-mae-ri. The so-called “crimeless village” is about ready to get a new nickname once random residents start to disappear or show up half eaten. The fat cats trying to turn Sam-mae-ri into a weekend oasis for city slickers with money to burn soon summon a set of hired guns to deal with the problem as quietly and quickly as possible. They indeed bag a boar, but they fail to realize there is another one on the loose. A larger one, in fact.
As urgent as its wild pig problem is, Chaw does the opposite of expectations and approaches the story with levity as opposed to severity. And immediately the film is not quite on the same wavelength as other rare helpings of hog horror. The decision to keep things light, even as boars are chowing down on country folks, seems unsound from a tonal perspective. In the end, however, the physical comedy and sight gags help make for a more memorable viewing experience. Seeing cops collectively fall down a hill and into a dug-up graveyard is bound to crack some smiles, as is Officer Kim’s never-ending battle to contain his unruly mother. In place of actual suspense, the gallows humor maintains the present situation and keeps the characters on their toes.
The horror genre tends to skip over boars in favor of other more readily scary beasties, such as sharks, crocs, and bears. People are naturally afraid of those animals, whereas a wild pig, even one with tusks, requires more coaxing. Swarming unsuspecting humans in the style of The Birds can be effective, but in the wrong hands, that tactic quickly loses steam and becomes too impersonal. This leaves Chaw to do what so many other creature-features before and after it have done. The choice pays off because going bigger is certainly better when trying to convey these animals’ potential for harm. It also gives off an uncanny quality, like a forest god coming down from the mountains. Of course the monster is far from supernatural; the story explains the Hogzilla here is a mutant species, descended from failed hybrids bred during the Japanese occupation of Korea.
With a boar as immense as a rhino, and considering the film’s vintage, extensive CGI should come as no surprise. There is the occasional use of animatronics and other practical effects, but once the big boar makes its grand debut around the one-hour mark, all bets are off to see a giant pig prop spreading chaos and chewing on more than the scenery. No, this hell hog is chiefly expressed through visual effects, on account of how much action is involved whenever the monster is on screen. This little piggy here is full on galloping after its prey in the third act, giving both the characters and audience a total workout. The CGI has nothing on that of Bong Joon-ho’s The Host, which came out three years earlier, yet it is passable in some scenes. The worst offense is the boar somehow looking more adorable than menacing.
While the human characters do not necessarily fit the obvious archetypes of horror, not a single one of them is all that fleshed out either. They are as cursory as can be, with some having no more than a name to differentiate them from another quickly drawn character. Chaw is instead keen on performances and personalities. Shin Jung-won pulls from Chungcheong culture and dialect when presenting these folks, and without question a great deal of that effort will be lost in translation. On the surface, though, the colorful characters are easy enough to absorb and understand, all thanks to their comical physicality and universally quirky behaviors.
Chaw is never as lean or mean as it could be. The pacing of those first two acts can be challenging, and any sort of pig-on-man violence is either anemic or undermined by humor. The story is also less mindful of its own themes, despite it being the one to suggest them in the first place. Generally speaking, Chaw is a strange film full of even stranger characters. Sometimes it can be dark, and other times it shies away from the darkness. As an ecological horror, it pales next to something as remarkable as Russell Mulcahy’s Razorback, but on its own terms, Chaw delivers excitement and offbeat fun. The late Shin Jung-won had a knack for mixing genres, and in that respect, he succeeded with flying colors here.
Horrors Elsewhere is a recurring column that spotlights a variety of movies from all around the globe, particularly those not from the United States. Fears may not be universal, but one thing is for sure — a scream is understood, always and everywhere.
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