A day before setting out to watch Mercy for None, I was nursing the terrible after-effects of a hugely disappointing Indian gangster drama and desperately needed an antidote. I plunged into the first episode hoping for something at least good, and by the end of it, I developed the strong urge to finish all of it in one go, which is what I eventually ended up doing. Mercy for None is, at the moment, the best Korean revenge thriller series on Netflix — until something else comes along.
What begins like an ordinary revenge thriller reveals, after around the fourth episode, during which it creates the impression that the anti-hero of the story would get his payback earlier than expected, that there is a 'more than meets the eye' quality to the story. Just as how some of the main characters are tricked into believing one thing, the viewers, too, learn that it's too early to breathe a sigh of relief as more sinister plotting and unforeseen twists rear their ugly heads. More characters — who, until a certain point, were relegated to shorter roles and operating from behind the curtains — enter the fray, gaining more prominence as we go further.
All episodes directed by Choi Sung-eun, Mercy for None is one of those shows that offers a thrill-a-minute experience, with dollops of cathartic violence and the most brutal, satisfying bloodbaths that we have come to expect from Korean filmmakers. It has everything that hardcore fans of Korean action thrillers seek. To begin with, well-dressed gangsters with a serious, stoic expression. Battle-weathered older men who have seen much in their lives. Baby-faced young men who conceal within them ruthless monsters unleashed at the opportune moments. Bespectacled older men whose involvement in events could be far deeper than one initially assumed. A recurring motif from most iconic gangster stories appears in Mercy for None, too — of fathers trying to clean up the devastating damage caused by the reckless misdeeds of their sons.
The casting of So Ji-sub, an actor known for A Company Man, an action thriller popular among Korean cinema aficionados, is apt since he possesses the ability to bring a sense of relentless energy and chilling efficiency despite sporting a weary expression that belies the immense reserve of strength and brutality within Gi-jun, the character he plays in Mercy for None. An ex-gangster who had to sacrifice his Achilles tendon as a price for leaving the gangster business, Gi-jun is forced to summon his past self after his brother's murder, the mystery of which may have ties to, as I implied earlier, a much wider network. The character's resolve and self-destructive aura recall many such archetypes in Asian cinema — Tatsuya Nakadai in Harakiri, Chow Yun-fat in A Better Tomorrow, and Lee Byung-hun from Inside Men and A Bittersweet Life.
Everyone is a pawn in someone else's game. We learn of the involvement of multiple enterprises, one of which is a "clean up" agency that enlists the services of desperate individuals who are willing to stand in for the actual accused in the aftermath of a violent crime. There are more, but even a mere mention of so-and-so organisation might give away surprises. Strangely enough, we hardly see a female character in the show — and I don't mean it as a complaint; it's just... strange. One or two professional types show up, though, but only for a scene or two. Everything else moves around these men in such a way that you begin to wonder whether all these characters took some special oath that requires them to avoid female company.
One of the factors that contribute to the addictive quality of the show — aside from the instantly appealing neon-drenched cityscapes and the ominous atmosphere heavy with portents of doom — is the mid-credits scene in each episode, which reveals more of a concerning situation we earlier witnessed. Needless to say, this approach kept me clicking 'next' without a second's hesitation. The temptation to find out what really happened was too hard to resist.
