Timely and visually impressive satire, complete with the cutest CGI superpig you'll ever meet.

Corporations and Nazis – where would cinema be without them? As the de facto bad guys for any aspiring action film; they may be untrustworthy, unscrupulous, or downright evil but in the high-fantasy world of cinema, at least you know where you stand with them. Their real-world villainy lends them perfectly to becoming despicable fictional antagonists but, while Raiders of the Lost Ark utilised Nazis to their full evil potential, their inclusion must always be handled with the utmost care.

The intangible nature of big business, on the other hand, lends itself perfectly to a far more flexible form of villainy; one that you can really have some fun with. Shady, uncaring, polluting, cold, and profiteering; corporations work perfectly as a symbol of corruption and greed that operates in that zone of cinematic villainy that plays off an audience’s preconceptions so well.

With big business’ continued omnipresence within society, combined with the world’s increased connectivity, the days of companies simply burying their less wholesome activities far from the public eye appear numbered. With their affairs now in sharp focus, the growing need for an on-point marketing strategy for any corporation appears as crucial as ever but, as with the in Okja’s Mirando Corporation, there’s often a darkness there at the core that no amount of smoke, mirror, and shiny smiles can mask.

Don’t let the cute superpig fool you for a minute, Okja’s fun-loving nature is superseded only by its furious indignation, as it asks timely and pertinent questions on the pursuit of profit and the true cost of compromising our humanity.

For a decade, Mija (Ahn Seo-hyun) has been the caretaker and companion to Okja – an enormous superpig bred by the shady Mirando Corporation. Living an idyllic life with Okja and her grandfather deep in the mountains of South Korea, Mija’s bliss is short-lived however, when Mirando demand that their genetically modified animal be returned. Shipping Okja to New York, image-obsessed CEO Lucy Mirando (Tilda Swinton) has grand designs for the superpig, but not necessarily with the animal’s best interests in mind. With little plan but lots of heart, Mija sets out on a continent-spanning rescue mission to bring Okja back home. However, things quickly complicate when her journey crosses paths with capitalists, animal lovers, and consumers; each with their own agenda and designs for Okja’s fate.

While Okja points its accusing finger points largely in the direction of the food industry, the range of the film’s ire feels far wider. Taking aim at a very 21st century brand of corporate culture, Okja is a superpig-sized chunk of satire that, despite its slapstick façade, operates as a razor-sharp reflection on the fallacies of big business and the implicit role we play in their web as consumers. Skilfully avoiding sides in any meat vs vegetarianism debate, director Bong Joon-ho and co-writer Jon Ronson play equal opportunity satirists as they paint all sides as complicit in a problem that goes beyond blanket notions of right and wrong.

Like any good satire, Okja’s sense of reality is heightened just enough to operate as a biting political allegory, while allowing a level of comedic absurdism that works effectively to ensure it doesn’t drown in its own earnestness. At times, Okja is absolutely scathing in its social commentary, ready and willing to rip society’s faltering consumerist ideology a new one, but it’s in the film’s heart that things really click. Even the finest political satires will find it difficult to inject true emotion into their subject, as the completion of their mission trumps all perceived frivolities, but Okja is able to walk the line between heart and head with ease.

At its core, Okja is a simple tale of childhood kinship in an adult world as confusing as it is frustrating and it’s in this childhood bewilderment that the film lifts itself above mere political soapboxing. With doses of E.T. and The Iron Giant; Mija and Okja’s sweetly naïve dynamic will melt many hearts, but also ensures that the film remains grounded, even as the politicising and zany hijinks begin to escalate.

It’s a heady cocktail of high-fantasy, dark humour, and uncompromising subject matter that has become Bong Joon-ho’s stock-in-trade, but one far too scarce in modern mainstream cinema; particularly on Okja’s mid-level budget. After mounting success both in his native South Korea and internationally, Okja represents the director’s most ambitious effort to date but, for all its aspiration, it’s a film that’d struggle for air without Netflix’s intervention.

Receiving nothing but the most limited of theatrical releases and premiering to a chorus of boos at Cannes; Okja represents, not only a pivotal moment in cinema distribution history, but an unprecedented opportunity for filmmakers like Bong Joon-ho. As a testament to Netflix’s current power within the industry, the global platform afforded auteur directors of Joon-ho’s ilk appears tantalisingly uninhibited and a massive creative boon rarely witnessed from the Hollywood studio system. There’s no doubt Okja represents a big gamble for everyone involved but, if it pays off, this could be just the kick that independent cinema needs.

Regardless of the film’s distribution method, there’s little denying that the freedom offered by Netflix has allowed Joon-ho breathing space to exploit the visual and narrative trademarks from previous film Mother and Snowpiercer, to their full extent. As language flits around the world, so too does the action; traversing continents and snaking through Seoul and New York in an explosion of colour and unabashed excitement. As evidenced by the cast, crew, and locations; Okja is every bit an international effort, as Bong Joon-ho exploits the multicultural landscape to maximum effect, with a trademark playfulness that paints the film’s locations in wildly colourful tones.

Although visual effects certainly play their part in the story, the reliance on computer wizardry to Okja’s action is far from heavy. Despite its fantastical nature, there’s a distinct physicality to Okja that allows its action sequences a tactile quality that’d likely become lost through CGI saturation. One aspect where CGI is unavoidable however, is in bringing Okja to life. While the film’s budget is relatively modest, the superpig’s character design works seamlessly into the action and perfectly demonstrates the unique power of CGI, if utilised correctly.

In another major call-back to E.T., Okja’s otherworldly look and child-like mannerisms are key to the film’s connection with its audience and, as such, its ultimate success hinges on its central creature’s believability and ability to connect emotionally. Pulling off the trick of making such an outlandish animal as believable and loveable is Okja does is to the huge credit of the film’s visual effects team, the power of Joon-ho’s storytelling, and the wonderful performance of Ahn Seo-hyun as Mija.

As it’s heartbeat, Seo-Hyun’s charming childhood innocence works perfectly to ground the film, and her relationship with her computer-generated companion acts as a vital core to the Okja’s emotional resonance. Considering Seo-Hyun’s tender years, this is an incredibly feat in and of itself but, more impressive yet, is the marvellous job she does in holding everything together, even amidst a cast stuffed to the gills with star power. As an audience, Mija is our eyes and ears into Bong Joon-ho’s madcap adult world of cartoonish caricatures and monstrous (human) creations. Without Mija’s steady and grounding presence, there’s every chance Okja would disappearing into the ether completely.

Striking up an intriguing partnership with Mija and settling nicely into the film’s tone, Paul Dano is a triumph as the charming but off-kilter leader of the Animal Liberation Front. Perfectly striking a balance between goofy do-gooding and darkly driven righteousness, Dano teeters precariously on the edge of sanity throughout and the effect is a wonderfully performance of barely contained idiosyncratic combustion. But, while the film’s offbeat tone suits Dano perfectly, it’s not something that works for all involved.

Although Tilda Swinton goes toe-to-toe with Dano, pulling a typically eccentric double shift of reserve and esoteric excess as both Nancy and Lucy Mirando, that just about holds together; Jake Gyllenhaal’s outrageously OTT Dr Johnny Wilcox is all kinds of wrong. As fantastic as Gyllenhaal usually is, his turn here is borderline unwatchable. It’s hard to imagine any actor of Gyllenhaal’s calibre putting in a performance with the intention of it being this grating, but whatever boat he and Bong Joon-ho were looking to board with the character has been missed by some distance.

Epitomised by Gyllenhaal’s scenery chewing, Bong Joon-ho’s dystopic capitalist vision certainly finds itself drifting a little too far into farce every now and again, side-tracking itself with the kind of wacky eccentricities that can grate if left unchecked. Balancing out Okja’s politicising and thematic brutality with a broad, family-friendly brand of slapstick adventure is no easy task and it shows, as Joon-ho often find himself struggling to keep his plates spinning. It’s a tonal inconsistency that sits rather awkwardly, but there’s more than enough warmth and visual splendour in Okja to help offset its wildest idiosyncratic excesses, ensuring that the film never gets swept away in its own whimsy.

Timely and touching, Okja paints a stark portrait of capitalism’s pratfalls, while injecting just enough whimsy to avoid it becoming overpowering. The film operates as a potent satire on the meat industry but staunchly avoids taking a side, deciding instead to offer a view from all angles, while never becoming preachy. Looking past the film’s inherent political nature, Bong Joon-ho crafts a touching story of childhood innocence and friendship told with style and visual verve to spare. Grounded by the charming central pairing of Ahn Seo-hyun’s Mija and the CGI Okja, the film avoids becoming dragged too far down a quirky rabbit hole, despite some particularly over-ripe performances and a script that occasionally struggles to juggle its contrasting tones. Regardless, Okja is a wildly entertaining action fantasy with enough imagination and raw to suggest that Netflix have the movie hit they so clearly crave.