I rewatched Train to Busan a decade later, and it broke me in new ways

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Classism and Privilege

Train to Busan subtly, and at times, not so subtly, throws brutal punches at social hierarchies. Yong Suk, played by Choi Woo Shik, stands in for everything rotten in the system: the power, the entitlement, the blind belief that status alone will save him, no matter what. What he doesn’t get is that the end doesn’t care who you are. He’s ready to sacrifice anyone he sees as beneath him. The way he turns the “safe” passengers against others, gets them to throw people out, shows exactly how fear breeds prejudice, and how fast class lines get drawn when survival’s on the line.

A still from Train to Busan.

Government and misinformation

The early news coverage downplays the outbreak even as chaos breaks loose, and the overwhelmed, eventually zombified military shows how the public blindly puts its faith in the government and media, only to be misled at every turn. The lack of real leadership outside the train shows a complete breakdown of trust in authority. The government keeps assuring people, but it means nothing. In the end, everyone’s left to fend for themselves. Ten years later, after watching it all play out in real life, whether it was during a pandemic, social unrest, or political polarisation, we get it.

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Parental love and sacrifice 

After all, Train to Busan’s core was always about the love and sacrifice our parents make. I was a teenager when I first watched it, and back then, I didn’t really get that part. But rewatching it now, I couldn’t hold back the tears. The bond between Seok Woo and Su An is the emotional anchor. Train to Busan shows how deep a parent’s love runs, and how far they’ll go, even if it means sacrificing themselves so their child can live. Now that I’ve grown older and had real conversations with my parents, I get it. I understand why Seok Woo did what he did in the end, why he let go, knowing he’d never see his daughter again, just to make sure she survives. I was sobbing. It felt like, for the first time, I could see things through my parents’ perspective. And when Su An sang that song, the same one she once couldn’t finish because her dad was never around, now she sings it because there’s no one left. No one else is going to help her. She sings it to survive. To not get shot by the soldiers.