is a virtually perfect film on every level.

On the surface, its technical execution

is so precise and immaculate

that it's hard to notice the film's greatest achievement

hiding underneath:

the screenplay.

For Bong, who has written every single film in his career,

"Parasite" is essentially a culmination

of everything he's learned over the years.

But in its more than two hours of runtime,

there is a single moment

that truly exemplifies his genius,

a sequence that transforms "Parasite"

into cinematic perfection.

[doorbell rings]

Like all great stories, "Parasite" has

a beginning, a middle, and an end,

yet it never quite follows the usual

three-act structure we're familiar with.

Instead, the film plays a lot like two separate movies

that are joined into one.

The first film deals with the two families:

the impoverished Kims, who plan to infiltrate

the wealthy Parks by each posing as a tutor,

a driver, and a housekeeper.

But it creates an odd moment in the story

about 50 minutes in,

after the Kims have removed all of the existing employees

to essentially take over the house.

Suddenly, there's no conflict left to carry the film,

and the story comes to a literal stop.

But it's the sequence that bridges

the end of the first film to the unexpected second

where Bong stages his attack.

Let's take a look.

Bong begins the sequence by visually establishing

the Kims' false sense of success,

having dedicated an entire previous sequence

to show the Kims reaping the rewards of their scheme.

But he does it most effectively with

a simple parallel image using a window,

a motif of luxury that was introduced

earlier in the film.

The Kims, who had previously been subjected to the views

of ordinary life outside their basement apartment,

discover privacy as a form of luxury.

Yet, despite all of this, their success

is only downplayed by their dialogue,

which emphasizes just how far they are from it.

Bong keeps the dialogue engaging

by faking out three moments of tension

that gradually build over time.

These moments are known as beats in a dialogue.

Each beat organically interrupts and changes the flow

and the topic of conversation.

Until it seemingly explodes on the third beat.

[glass shatters]

[both laughing]

[doorbell rings]

It's no coincidence that this doorbell

marks the exact midpoint of the screenplay,

appearing on page 71 out of a 141-page script.

It's a sound that signifies the end of the first film

and what Bong refers to as "the real start of the film."

It's a brilliantly foreboding moment

after a series of peaceful sequences.

The audience is aware that something is about to go wrong,

they just aren't sure what it is.

This is probably the best moment to talk about

the films that inspired "Parasite."

Bong has mentioned several,

and the most obvious is Kim Ki-young's 1960 film

"The Housemaid," which features a similar story

about a poor maid infiltrating the rich.

But thematically, its most interesting inspiration

comes from Akira Kurosawa's 1963 film

"High and Low,"

one of the first films that used height

as a visual representation of class,

with the rich towering above

and the poor living underneath.

"Parasite" expands upon this idea

through another visual motif introduced earlier:

stairs.

On second viewing, it's incredible to see

how vertical the film is

right from its opening image.

Whenever a character climbs a flight of stairs,

it's a visual symbol of the rise in the social class,

while the walk down suggests the opposite.

Just like the window, it's this very sequence

where Bong starts to take advantage

of all the visual concepts he set up earlier,

and it's the reason why we feel so uneasy

in a moment like this.

The film that most heavily inspired "Parasite"

is probably Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho."

The two films share a surprising number of similarities.

Both mainly feature a house

that almost becomes a character itself,

the architecture guiding the film

and sometimes hiding the truth in plain sight

on another level.

And, most importantly, the game-changing twist midway

was also done most popularly by Hitchcock in "Psycho,"

who killed his main character

exactly halfway through the film.

What makes the twist in "Parasite" so great

is that it's as predictable

as it is impossible to see coming.

The basement in question is featured

only twice in the film

for less than a minute

before its actual role is revealed.

But it's a twist that doesn't feel out of question,

as we've seen it happen already,

just through the eyes of another family.

The truth finally reveals itself.

And Bong expertly reveals the twist

strictly from the Kims' perspective

through a handheld camera.

As the lighting, camera, tempo,

and even the genre of the film changes,

what awaits at the end of the tunnel

is an entirely different film.

All in 10 minutes of a sequence.

What makes "Parasite" so perfect

is that it understands the rules and power of storytelling.

Everything on screen has a specific purpose

and a meaning that transforms the story as it unpacks.

And it's ironic that, as brilliant as Bong's plan

for the story is, the genius of "Parasite"

lies in the 10-minute sequence

where an entire plan is demolished on sight.