Unburying the past can reveal unspoken truths. It can lead to more harm than healing and more questions than answers. And sometimes, exploring the past can scar a person. If one were to summarize what writer/director Jang Jae-Hyun’s Exhuma tackles, this would be it. However, like Jae-Hyun’s previous works, Exhuma is much more than that. Exhuma is a reckoning. With its multi-layered symbolism and handling of Korea’s history under Japanese occupation, this horror is a slow-building anxiety-fest that sneaks under the skin.
Jae-Hyun’s first hint towards Exhuma’s subject matter is in an almost forgettable encounter on a plane. Shaman Hwa-Rim (Kim Go-Eun) is mistaken for Japanese by the stewardess, a microaggression that carries unspoken volumes. Hwa-Rim and her assistant, Bong-Gil (Lee Do-Hyun), arrive in Los Angeles to aid a wealthy Korean American family. Hwa-Rim deduces the first sons of the Park family are being haunted by what is known as the “Grave’s Call.” This requires more help, prompting Hwa-Rim to contact her colleagues in Korea.
Acclaimed feng shui master Kim Sang-Deok (Choi Min-Sik) and the undertaker Yeung-Geun (Yoo Hae-Jin) join the team. Together, they determine they must exhume the body of the former Park patriarch. The importance of feng shui becomes clear to the viewer upon visiting the gravesite. There’s a thick, ominous energy in the air. Something is not right, but all signs point to the location placement being the source of worry. The team, while wary, decides to go ahead with the ritual to appease the Park ancestor. But this is no regular haunting. There are layers upon layers to unpack to keep viewers on their toes.
The blending of mystery with the supernatural is seamless. Jae-Hyun addresses the blend of science with the unknown through the proxy character Sang-Deok. Through this scientific process, the team of supernatural experts tries to narrow down what is happening in Exhuma. Never once does the team let go of ritual. Ritual is as essential to the characters as it is for the viewer in understanding the world we’re entering.
However, this adherence to ritual and the scientific method also aids in the surprises that unfold in the film’s second part. Jae-Hyun leaves clues in the dialogue and exposition leading up to this point, but nothing can compare to what happens on screen. It is a wallop to the face and the senses, forcing our quartet against a wall and into new scopes of terror.
As for the horror, Jae-Hyun spares no one. There’s a vengeful cruelty to the deaths onscreen, but they all feel earned, given later context. The set-up exposes the dangers of ignoring familial obligations and rituals. Underneath the surface, however, the deaths can also be seen in a different light. The deaths are a kind of penance—a lifelong curse of guilt and shame culminating in a brutal demise. The sins of the past always ripple into the present. And like the ghosts haunting the periphery, nowhere is truly safe.
Everyone plays their parts exquisitely. Kim Go-Eun says much without saying anything at all. Her Hwa-Rim contains an uncrackable aura that hints at the power beneath. Age and wisdom both aid and weigh down Choi Min-Sik’s Sang-Deok. This weight grows heavier throughout the course of Exhuma, as shown by subtle changes to Sang-Deok’s body language. Hwa-Rim and Sang-Deok embody the principle of yin and yang, balancing each other out.
