‘Halo’ review: Gruelling South Korean debut leans into the grind of the gig economy

Dir: Roh Young-hwan. South Korea. 2025. 106mins

If debut director Roh Young-hwan’s goal was to realise the suffocating, dead-end nature of last mile logistics work, it is mission accomplished in Halo which tracks the downward spiral of delivery driver Seo Min-joon (Choi Gang-hyun). Cinematographer Kim Jae-hong exploits the immediacy of the hand held camera to follow Min-joon through Seoul’s rabbit warren of streets and alleys, and he and Roh make Min-joon’s implosion as devastating as it is inevitable. But Halo can also be exhausting in its demonstration of powerless twentysomething malaise and could use some judicious editing that would make its point even more vivid.

Can be exhausting in its demonstration of powerless twentysomething malaise

Busan-born Roh has worked as an actor for a decade, and it’s clear he has picked up a great deal about intimate, meditative cinema. A modest and personal first film, Halo should make the rounds of the festival circuit following its Toyko debut but, due it its familiar themes of alienation, desperation and marginalization, is unlikely to make many waves beyond that. Resonant as Halo is, its brightest prospects are likely with Asia-focused festivals and arthouse streamers.

We’re introduced to Min-joon when he drops work and rushes off to the police station to bail out his parents and brother, who are fully enmeshed in a domestic brawl. It’s clear that wrangling his drunken father (Moon Sung-hwan), angry mother (Maeng Joo-one) and older brother Min-ha (Kim Han) is par for the course; Min-joon oozes exhaustion and boredom as he secures their release. When he’s not dealing with his frayed family, he’s delivering boxes and squirrelling away as much as he can to fulfil a dream of making movies. Grim as things seem, Min-joon is meticulous, far from lazy, and takes pride in everything he does – including keeping the trusty van in which he mostly lives in impeccable condition.

Min-joon’s daily grind is nearly silent and mostly solitary, with long shots under natural streetlights seeing him absorbed into the night; the film frequently flirts with a Dogme 95 aesthetic. Halo’s early rapid pace eventually gives way to repetition, emphasising the drudgery of Min-joon’s life. While on his rounds one afternoon, an astrologer (veteran Lee Jae-yong, Save The Green Planet!) asks Min-joon for some directions; he later gives him a reading and encourages him to move away and find his passion. The vote of confidence puts a spring in Min-joon’s step and energises him to double down on saving and ask his boss for more shifts. But then Min-ha gets caught up in a phishing scheme, and puts Min-joon’s plans in jeopardy.

It’s at this point that Roh and co-writer and producer Kim Eun-na ratchet up Min-joon’s stress levels. The nights get darker and the drone of bad news on the radio – about North Korean missile launches, nuclear power plant leaks, dust warnings and local arsons – add up. Often the news broadcast is a cheat for exposition, but here it’s an effective tool for creating a palpable sense of rising desperation and loss of personal control, particularly as Halo has no score. 

While watching Min-joon reaching the end of his rope is the film’s point, Halo ultimately loses a bit of its punch for just how numbing it becomes. But while the film may come close to wearing out its welcome, Choi never does. Via subtly shifting physicality and increasingly resigned expressions, he delivers a nicely modulated performance as a young man losing the energy to even consider solutions to his various dilemmas.  The end may be obvious but Choi is never less than sympathetic, and he gives the film its emotional momentum