Kim Jee-woon didn't just make a movie; he built a trap. When people talk about the I Saw the Devil film, they usually start with the gore. They mention the taxi scene or the greenhouse. But that’s surface-level stuff. Honestly, the reason this 2010 South Korean thriller still haunts message boards and "must-watch" lists isn't just because it's violent. It’s because it’s a philosophical middle finger to the entire concept of the revenge genre.
It hurts to watch. Not just because of the blood, but because it forces you to watch a "hero" slowly dissolve into the very thing he’s hunting.
Most revenge flicks follow a predictable beat. Bad guy kills someone, good guy gets mad, good guy kills bad guy, roll credits. Satisfying, right? I Saw the Devil takes that satisfaction, douses it in gasoline, and lights a match. Lee Byung-hun plays Soo-hyun, a secret agent whose pregnant fiancée is murdered by a literal human demon named Kyung-chul (played with terrifying, mouth-breathing intensity by Choi Min-sik). Soo-hyun doesn't just want to kill Kyung-chul. He wants to play with his food.
The Problem With The "Catch and Release" Method
The movie’s central conceit is basically a nightmare version of tag. Soo-hyun finds Kyung-chul, beats him within an inch of his life, and then... lets him go. He plants a GPS tracker in the killer's body (via a swallowed capsule) so he can track him down and torture him again and again.
It’s a brilliant setup for a thriller, but as a viewer, you start to feel greasy. Fast.
Director Kim Jee-woon is a stylist. You’ve probably seen his other work like A Tale of Two Sisters or A Bittersweet Life. He knows how to make a frame look gorgeous, even when that frame contains a severed head. In the I Saw the Devil film, he uses a cold, clinical color palette that makes the snow feel sharper and the blood look darker. There is a specific shot in a taxi—a spinning, 360-degree camera movement—that is technically flawless. It’s also one of the most brutal sequences in modern cinema. Two predators meet a bigger predator. It’s chaotic. It’s visceral.
But here’s the thing: Soo-hyun’s plan is fundamentally stupid.
By refusing to end the cycle, he allows Kyung-chul to continue his rampage. Every person Kyung-chul hurts after the "game" begins is, in a way, Soo-hyun’s fault. The film asks a jagged question: At what point does justice become a vanity project? Soo-hyun wants to feel powerful again after the ultimate powerlessness of losing his partner. He’s using a serial killer as a stress ball.
Choi Min-sik vs. Lee Byung-hun: A Collision of Styles
You can’t talk about this movie without talking about the acting. Choi Min-sik, the legend from Oldboy, plays Kyung-chul like a rabid dog. There is no tragic backstory here. No "he was abused as a child" nuance to make you feel bad for him. He is pure, unadulterated evil. He eats, he kills, he rapes, he sleeps. He’s a force of nature.
Then you have Lee Byung-hun.
🔗 Read more: God of Thunder 2015: What Really Happened with This Bizarre Thor Rip-off
He’s the "pretty boy" of Korean cinema, but here he’s a hollow shell. His performance is all in the eyes—or the lack of anything behind them. As the movie progresses, his posture changes. He becomes more robotic, more detached. While Kyung-chul represents the chaos of the devil, Soo-hyun represents the coldness of the devil. By the time they reach the final confrontation, you aren't sure who you're supposed to be rooting for anymore. Well, you know who the "bad" guy is, but you don't feel "good" about the "good" guy.
Why the Censorship Struggles Happened
It’s worth noting that the I Saw the Devil film almost didn’t see the light of day in its intended form. The Korea Media Rating Board (KMRB) originally gave it a "Restricted" rating, which is basically a death sentence in South Korea because it prevents the film from being screened in mainstream theaters or even being advertised.
Kim Jee-woon had to go back to the editing room three times. He had to cut scenes involving human flesh being fed to dogs and certain shots of severed limbs.
Even with those cuts, the version most of us saw is still an endurance test. It pushes the boundaries of what is "acceptable" entertainment. It’s not "torture porn" in the vein of Saw or Hostel, though. Those movies often feel like they’re giggling at the gore. This movie feels like it’s mourning it. It’s heavy. It’s oppressive.
The Ending That Nobody Forgets
Without spoiling the specific mechanics of the finale, it’s safe to say it’s one of the most depressing "wins" in cinema history. The final shot of Soo-hyun walking down a road, the sound of his own breathing drowning out the world—it’s haunting. He achieved his goal. He got his revenge. And he lost everything else in the process.
Most people who watch the I Saw the Devil film once say they’ll never watch it again. It’s a "one and done" experience. Not because it’s bad—it’s actually a masterpiece of pacing and tension—but because it’s emotionally exhausting. It robs you of the catharsis you think you want.
What You Should Take Away
If you’re planning on diving into this for the first time, or if you’re revisiting it to see what you missed, keep a few things in mind:
- Look at the light. The film uses light to show the transition of characters. Notice how Soo-hyun starts in bright, clinical settings and ends up in the literal and metaphorical dark.
- The "Friend" character. There is a secondary antagonist, a friend of Kyung-chul, who serves as a mirror. He shows that Kyung-chul isn't an anomaly; he’s part of a subculture of monsters. This makes the world feel even more dangerous.
- Sound design. The sound of the GPS beeping is a ticking clock for the audience’s sanity. It builds a sense of dread that visuals alone can't achieve.
Honestly, the I Saw the Devil film is a cautionary tale for the audience. It mocks our desire for violent retribution. It says, "You want to see the bad guy suffer? Fine. Here is exactly what that looks like, and here is how much it will cost the soul of the person doing it." It’s a grim, beautiful, and utterly essential piece of world cinema that refuses to play by the rules.
If you want to understand the modern Korean wave of cinema beyond Parasite or Squid Game, this is the deep end of the pool. Just don't expect to come out feeling clean.
To truly appreciate the craft, watch it on the largest screen possible to catch the minute changes in Lee Byung-hun’s facial expressions during the final twenty minutes. Pay attention to the silence. Sometimes what isn't said—or shown—is where the real horror lives. If you find yourself needing a "palette cleanser" afterward, you aren't alone; most critics suggest following this up with something light, because the nihilism here is heavy enough to leave a mark.