[magazine kave]=Choi Jae-hyuk Reporter
The city is submerged. Only the high-rise apartments barely stick their heads above the water, floating like islands, and the view outside the window has long turned into the sea. Researcher Koo Anna (Kim Da-mi) continues to ascend somewhere in the apartment, holding her young son Jae-in in her arms, amidst the intermittently ringing alarms and flickering lights. The end of the stairs is not visible, and behind her, murky water swallows each step. Outside, the last remnants of human civilization float by, and in Anna's hand is a small device tightly gripped. It is not just a simple research outcome but something akin to a 'key' developed with the fate of humanity at stake.
The film immediately throws the audience into a world after this massive flood has already occurred. There is no time to check the situation through the news or wait for the government's official briefing. Humanity is on the brink of extinction, and people struggle to survive in their own ways. The apartment where Anna lives is depicted as a special space among them. Inside the submerged building, there are still people waiting for rescue, families who have not given up, and those who want to protect something until the end. Anna was originally an artificial intelligence researcher, but now she bears the excessive roles of a scientist, a mother, and humanity's last hope.
Her goal is not simply to escape with her son. She must transport the outcome of a secret project she participated in to a specific location. Early in the film, it hints that the project is not just a technological development but an attempt to preserve humanity's memory and identity. Amidst the flooded corridors, severed wires, and the rushing water filling the elevator shaft, Anna throws herself to protect the device. The stairs and corridors are designed almost like a maze, with new obstacles and characters appearing on each floor.
At one point, a former soldier agent, Son Hee-jo (Park Hae-soo), appears before Anna. He seems to hold more information about Anna's research outcome, having been dispatched for a top-secret national mission. Their relationship is more of a temporary partnership based on overlapping interests rather than cooperation from the start. Son Hee-jo urges Anna to make a choice with the coldness typical of a soldier, and Anna continues to waver between her instincts as a mother and her responsibilities as a researcher. Amidst their conversation, requests for rescue and sounds of collapse seep in from beyond the apartment walls.
Intermittently, the film briefly illuminates the world outside the apartment. Most cities have already sunk underwater, and satellite communications are nearly cut off. Survivors send signals from the rooftops of high-rise buildings, maintaining their last connections. Images of rescue helicopters cutting through the sky, debris floating on the water, and distant explosions flashing by briefly appear. However, the central stage remains inside the apartment until the end. The film attempts to create urgency by intersecting the movements of Anna, Jae-in, Son Hee-jo, and other survivors within this confined space.
As they change floors, the situation becomes more complicated. On one floor, an elderly person insists on holding onto their home, while on another, a group appears trying to control others with food as bait. Various types of survivors pass by, including a pregnant woman holding a child, a patient waiting for rescue, and people struggling to save their own families. Anna is forced to make choices among them. Whose hand to hold and what to give up, the film repeatedly poses these questions. In this process, the identity of the 'key' she possesses and the implication that this flood is not just a natural disaster gradually reveal themselves.
As the film progresses, the outer shell of the disaster movie becomes thinner, and elements of science fiction such as artificial intelligence, simulation, and the storage and replication of memories come to the forefront. Anna gradually realizes what purpose the system she has developed is actually being used for and its relation to the flood. It is also hinted that Son Hee-jo is not just a simple rescue agent but part of a larger plan surrounding the system. However, the film crams this grand narrative and philosophical questions into the narrow space of the apartment and the limited conversations of the characters. The audience learns that Anna's choices are not merely a matter of personal motherhood but determine the direction of all humanity, yet they must confirm where that conclusion leads themselves. The film's core twist and final choice scene, no matter how controversial, is better experienced directly, so I will leave it at the doorstep here.
A Grandiose Yet Floundering Ship
Unfortunately, while 'The Great Flood' appears to be quite an ambitious disaster SF film based on its premise, it feels almost a failure in connecting that ambition to actual cinematic completion. The biggest problem is not the mixing of genres but the clash of genres. It tries to embrace disaster blockbusters, maternal dramas, hard SF dealing with artificial intelligence and simulation, and philosophical plays questioning humanity's ethics all at once, but the narrative pathway that stitches them together is flimsy. It is like going shopping, filling the cart, and then finding that the ingredients do not match when you open the fridge at home. Thus, the audience's experience is closer to 'disorganized' than 'abundant'.
The early disaster depiction is not bad. The submerged apartment stairs and corridors, the underground space where the generator is dying, and the view of the flooded city outside the window showcase visuals rarely seen in Korean commercial films. The water rises along the stairs, and there is a clear tension in the scenes where characters gasp for breath in the confined space. The problem is that this tension does not align properly with the progression of the story. Visually, it is a crisis, but the lines spoken by the characters feel awkward, as if they were cut and pasted from different genres, and the emotional arcs of the characters pop out in each scene. While the water rises terrifyingly, the dialogue leisurely engages in philosophical discussions, and scenes where people on the brink of life and death suddenly share family histories feel more like a drama lost in the editing room than a thrilling thriller.
The character of Koo Anna is very appealing based on her setup. An artificial intelligence researcher, a single mother, and the person holding the key to humanity's future. However, the film fails to fully unravel this complex character. Anna shifts between the roles of mother and researcher depending on the situation, but the conflicts and psychological changes between them do not build persuasively. Emotions quickly switch from tears to determined expressions to anger, leaving no room for the audience to enter. It feels like skimming through a sampler of emotions at a rapid pace. Kim Da-mi's performance holds on to fill that gap, but the actor's energy feels scattered in the flimsy dialogue and structure. This is a textbook case of what happens when a good actor meets a bad script.
Son Hee-jo is no different. Park Hae-soo is an actor who can show both the coldness of a former soldier and human turmoil, but the film consumes this character at the level of an 'information delivery agent'. There is almost no narrative about why he undertakes this mission, what he believes in, and what he fears. Instead, at crucial moments, Son Hee-jo appears to explain the setup or throws in unnecessarily grand lines, breaking the tension of the scene. After hearing lines like "We don't have much time left" about four times, the audience begins to resent the screenwriter more than the clock. The character who should lead the audience in a disaster film feels lost within the story itself.
The Laziness of a Script That Tries to Solve Everything with Explanations
The most serious problem with the script is that it attempts to resolve the core setup solely through 'explanation'. Why the flood occurred, what the artificial intelligence project aims for, and how human memory and consciousness are handled are mostly thrown out through dialogue and short flashbacks. In the process, instead of leaving room for the audience to think, it only increases confusion by repeatedly using vague terms and sentences. Good SF shows the worldview visually, through situations, and through the actions of characters, but 'The Great Flood' explains everything as if reading a PowerPoint presentation. In the latter half, there are setups that flip the nature of the story, but this twist also drops suddenly without sufficient foreshadowing or emotional preparation. Thus, from the audience's perspective, the feeling is more of 'just random' than 'surprising'. It is like a magician showing a trick and then explaining, "Actually, there is a mirror here."
There is also a lack of pleasure as a disaster film. There are scenes utilizing the material of water, and certain sequences definitely bring thrills, but overall, there are many repetitions and gaps in terms of scale and direction. Given that it chose the limited space of an apartment, the pressure of a closed disaster drama should emerge, but the design of movements and spatial utilization is monotonous, making it feel little different even when changing floors. Whether it is the 15th floor or the 20th floor, similar corridors and stairs continue, and the water rises the same way. Thus, the sense of crisis felt by the audience gradually fades. The water continues to rise, but the film feels like it is spinning in place. It feels like running on a treadmill, sweating a lot but not moving an inch forward.
The directorial tone is also inconsistent. In some scenes, it seems to pose serious reflections and philosophical questions, while in the next scene, it brings in embarrassingly exaggerated emotional lines and melodramatic clichés. When discussing choices that determine the fate of humanity, suddenly pouring out lines close to melodrama confuses the audience about where to invest their emotions. Genre experimentation is good, but if the basic structure and rhythm to support that experiment are not in place, it ultimately leaves only an 'in-between' result. 'The Great Flood' appears to have fallen into that trap. Disaster, SF, and drama all scatter awkwardly, holding each other back.
Lost in the Editing Room
Editing and rhythm are also problematic. Despite not being a long runtime, the perceived speed in the middle is close to boredom. Unnecessary conversations drag on when important information should come out, and scenes of characters going up and down stairs and corridors repeat with similar compositions and movements. The audience begins to confuse whether Anna is climbing the stairs in the previous scene or a new one. Conversely, important clues related to the worldview in the latter half pass by too quickly or cut off before the emotional aftertaste can be felt. The rhythm is inverted, with shallow exploration of parts that should be deeply delved into and dragging on parts that could be boldly omitted. It feels like the night before an important exam, where one ends up reading irrelevant appendices for three hours instead of studying the actual exam material.
Nevertheless, the performances of the actors consistently fulfill their roles. Kim Da-mi, even in the physically challenging environment of a submerged set, brings out the fear and responsibility of a mother as realistically as possible. The trembling of her arms holding her son, the wet clothes, and the exhausted gaze all convey desperation. Park Hae-soo also embodies the tension and fatigue unique to soldiers, even amidst flimsy dialogue. Supporting actors also convincingly portray the faces of survivors in their respective roles. However, good acting does not directly translate to a good film. This work lacks the directorial and script strength to tie together the emotional moments created by the actors. Thus, while a few impressive scenes come to mind, they do not connect into a cohesive film. It feels like excellent ingredients are left separately in the corner of the kitchen, never completed into a dish.
The Paradox of the Netflix Chart
An interesting point is that, despite receiving harsh criticism domestically, it ranks high on the Netflix global chart. From the perspective of global audiences, the format of 'Korean disaster SF' may still feel fresh. Due to the nature of streaming platforms, as long as there is enough power to get someone to hit the play button, the initial ranking can be sufficiently raised. A flashy poster, familiar actors, and grand introductions to the setup can easily earn a click. However, the film's completeness and the power to be remembered long-term are entirely different issues. This film certainly has attention-grabbing material and star casting, but it falls far short of the depth and completeness that would make it memorable for a long time. While the chart ranking can show the film's 'popularity', it does not prove its 'value'.
Who Should Board This Ship?
Now, thinking about which audience to recommend 'The Great Flood' to, honestly, I would not want to recommend this film to those expecting a high-quality disaster film or solid SF. For those wanting both the thrill of the genre and the persuasiveness of the narrative, frustration and disappointment are likely to come first. After the film ends, rather than the question, "What did I just watch?", a sigh of "Ah, what a pity" is more likely to emerge.
Rather, it may hold some significance as a cautionary tale for film students or creators who want to study the difficulties of filmmaking and the pitfalls of genre mixing through a failed work. It kindly shows that 'good intentions and flashy setups alone do not complete a film'. There are plenty of scenes that could serve as samples in scriptwriting classes for "This is how you shouldn't write it". It can be seen as a case study where the traps of the script, such as excessive setups, reliance on explanations, tonal inconsistencies, and failure to utilize characters, all come together.
Still, there are times when one wants to watch such a film. After work, when one turns on Netflix without any thought and watches an automatically playing work, wondering, "Why is the story not unfolding like this?" On days when one wants to confirm the possibilities and limits of Korean-style disaster melodrama. Or on days when one is curious about how a favorite actor endures under adverse conditions. If that is the mood, 'The Great Flood' is a strangely ambiguous choice to put on and grumble about in one's heart.
Lastly, one thought that comes to mind after watching this film is "What a waste". Good actors, interesting material, and a genre mix worth trying were all present, but there was no solid narrative backbone to tie them together. While the film itself lacks entertainment value, the power to elicit audience criticism and cynicism may come at them like a strong wave, just as the title suggests. And in that wave, we are reminded once again that in filmmaking, how to cook those ingredients is far more important than just gathering good materials, a truth that is all too obvious.