Good News: A Darkly Humorous Hijacking Tale That Defies Expectations

Watching Good News at TIFF felt like stepping into a completely different cinematic universe. Directed by Byun Sung‑hyun, known for his intense, stylish thrillers like The Merciless and Kingmaker, this film boldly defies expectations. From the very first frame, it announces itself as a new style of movie-making, one that delivers difficult and unsettling messages through dark humour, making the audience laugh even as they confront uncomfortable truths. Byun has a remarkable talent for taking complex or morally ambiguous concepts and presenting them in ways that feel effortless, often translating them into moments of comic relief that are both clever and insightful.

The story revolves around a hijacking, but rather than focusing on the mechanics of the crime itself, Byun deliberately chooses to explore everything surrounding it. In a cinematic landscape saturated with films about planning and executing hijackings, he shifts the lens to the chaos, politics, and human absurdities that unfold in the wake of the event. Sul Kyung‑gu’s enigmatic “Nobody” and Hong Kyung’s determined Lieutenant Seo Go‑myung navigate a world where reality itself is unstable. The truth is elusive, morally gray, and often weaponized, and the characters’ actions reflect the tension between appearance and reality. Ryoo Seung‑bum’s Park Sang‑hyeon, the KCIA director, is both magnetic and morally ambiguous, effortlessly taking credit, shifting blame, and embodying the absurdities of political institutions where optics outweigh substance.

Byun’s brilliance is most evident in his blending of comedy with political satire. He skewers the hypocrisy of systems with precision and wit. The U.S. Army scene, where officers pontificate about principles and protocol, drew laughter that was almost incredulous in its timing, perfectly highlighting the contradictions of bureaucratic authority. The burger scene, in all its mundane hilarity, had the audience in stitches, exposing the trivialities and egos that often dominate positions of power. Even complex operations, like intercepting audio signals on the radio, are presented with inventive humour—one scene cleverly nods to The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, turning a tense technical moment into a comic homage that made the concept accessible without diminishing its importance. Throughout the screening, there were audible gasps followed by chuckles, as the audience responded to moments that were simultaneously clever, absurd, and disturbingly truthful. Through these moments, Byun critiques not just the immediate situation of the hijacking, but the broader social and political structures that thrive on appearances, ego, and manipulation.

Dark humour threads through the film, never undercutting the stakes but rather heightening them. The audience remained on edge, laughing in places where they expected to be tense, and falling silent in moments of unexpected gravity. The tone remains sharply ironic, reminding viewers that even in moments of chaos and danger, the absurdities of human behavior persist.

Good News feels like a film destined for cult status. Its combination of stylistic audacity, morally gray characters, and fearless critique of political theatre ensures it will linger in the minds of viewers long after the credits roll. Byun Sung‑hyun has created a work that entertains while holding a mirror to the hypocrisies and absurdities of modern life. It is a film where laughter and unease coexist, where the dark side of the moon is never far from the spotlight, and where even a story centered on a hijacking becomes a lens to examine human folly and institutional absurdity. In a cinematic landscape often dominated by formula, Good News stands out as daring, inventive, and unforgettable.