OPINION: A diary entry about evil

I was reminded of Bong Joon Ho’s “Memories of Murder” this week after trying to come up with an angle to talk about the movie paired with David Fincher’s “Seven.” Both are detective thrillers where the general world around them seems apathetic to the growing undercurrent of evil.

But “Memories of Murder” has stuck with me in a way which has made me unfavorably view “Seven.” It’s harsh to make a comparison between pieces of art, but when both deal with such similar tones and come to different conclusions, it’s hard not to view one as somewhat childish while the other is shocking to the bone.

“Memories of Murder” depicts a bumbling detective squad trying to catch a serial killer. There’s a specific contrast between the detectives who dropkick their suspects with the serious nature of the crimes they’re trying to solve.

Make no mistake — this is a haunting movie which dares the audience to come to terms with the idea evil can be smarter than those who try to seek justice. It doesn’t need a killer with a grand master plan to prove it. Sometimes, evil escapes.

After I watch a movie, I sometimes like to write out my thoughts in a virtual diary. It can occasionally turn into columns if I eventually clean up the writing; most times they’re too vague to be much of anything.

What follows in this column is what I wrote when I was trying to comprehend my thoughts after watching “Memories of Murder” for a second time. I must have wrote it in the dead of night, and it’s almost incomprehensible unless you’ve seen the movie.

It’s mostly untouched — completely raw within the hour after I had watched the movie. At risk of feeling a little vulnerable over my edgy first draft, I present it here.

Aug. 1, 2025 — “Memories of Murder” — I don’t think there’s ever a way to grapple or understand the evil around us. I think it’s easier to be either arrogantly drastic in looking for a solution or nonchalant enough to ignore the possibility of a solution. Not until we witness evil, true malice and cruelty, do we understand how hopeless a solution could be.

We want solutions to exist. That’s what drives the desperation we feel to find them. Or, if we have no power of our own, we give our hope to the people who we pray will make things right.

The problem with confronting evil is it often comes from the plainest of people. It happens in the shadows, a rustling in the grass. There’s an instinct to look over your shoulder, even if nothing’s there. Because it’s always there. And maybe it’s optimistic to hope for a solution, but one must be out there.

Tunnel vision, no matter how ready or diligent one is to see an ending through, is always possible. It’s so much easier to give up and go through the motions. Both are a fog, but a blind shot through the cloud at whatever representation of evil we’ve convinced our minds is there won’t help.

The usual suspects might be easy to tie to the ceiling, but instilling madness on the unfortunate souls who are already walking through their waking hell can’t be just a mistake. Problems aren’t solved by a kick to the jaw.

And all the while, evil still continues its undying assault on those unlucky enough to be alone. Rules don’t apply, not even the ones evil sets. Frustration is inevitable.

No wonder it’s sickly comforting to return over and over to our mistakes. The lost choices which might be corrected by one more look. If there’s something, anything, then perhaps justice could be found.

Justice might be the dream sold by dramas and stories, but it’s surely out there. Surely. How else will all our mistakes, and the trials from the few correct choices we’re still proud to have made, be worth this struggle?

Yet, evil could escape, leaving behind what exactly? Victims, of course, but also seeds in the dirt. This trauma returns, and we might not recognize a cycle returning until we look at it in the mirror.

How does evil stop? Is it boredom? Does the fetish lose its satisfaction? Is moving on even relevant when we need justice for the brutality and exploitation inflicted on each other?

Maybe there was never a clean answer. Maybe it’s impossible to ever believe our neighbors are capable of evil. Maybe removing our own empathy might let us rest at night. I just hope that, while my eyes are closed and the rain continues to pour out my window, evil doesn’t silently set off into the night.