The film opens with In-Gu commuting to work and falling a sleep at a red light while the traffic honks and tries squeeze around his stationary vehicle. Arriving to his place of business, a produce front, a tad late, he has to take over for his underlings who have nearly botched the coercion of a building contractor to sign over a large construction deal to their gang. Middle aged, slowing down and just plain overwhelmed, In-Gu is hoping this 'big deal' will be his ticket out of gangs and provide the capital to move out to a well-to-do suburb so he can put his family life back together and live happily ever after in domestic bliss. His wife is currently sick of his gangster life, even though she has lived of it for years, and has him sleeping on the couch until he quits the lifestyle. His youngest daughter is rebelling in full force and raises the "I Hate You" to 11 when In-Gu tries to bribe her schoolteacher to give her special treatment. His son is studying (expensively) abroad in Canada. His Brother, also a midlevel gangster, works for a rival gang with direct conflicts of interest. And, finally, while he has the respect of his boss (he is treated like a son in fact) this creates serious complications with the Boss's ambitious young brother who gets less respect and authority. Freshly diagnosed with Type-2 diabetes, middle aged, more than a little lumpy and just plain slowing down, In-Gu turns the effort of balancing all these spinning plates into a sort of comic futility.

The pathos in film is generated by In-Gu's nostalgia for a time when he was young (and things were much simpler) whist trying to please everyone and doing all the dirty work. The film could have easily been called The Good Lieutenant as Song Kang-Ho is the mirror opposite of Harvey Keitel from Abel Ferrara's film (where the circumstances were built by selfish forces rather than selfless ones). Replace the catholic guilt with salary-man domestic expectations and you have a feel for where the film is going in the final chapter where the comedy is discarded and the screws are tightened quite mercilessly.

Large comic set-pieces (In-Gu's lack of business acumen in the construction business results in a burly brawl between gangsters and subcontractors) switch tone on a hearbeat to desperately realistic knife fights photographed in the colourful way that should be familiar to anyone who watches South Korean film. Equally numbered trips to the hospital (for sustained injuries) and the Realtor (to sustain his desire for family life to magically make sense) set the narrative rhythm. That rhythm is often disturbed by underperformed supporting roles which come off as types, not people. This is probably a script problem as much as an acting one. I understand the desire for the filmmakers to keep the focus of Song Kang-Ho's emotionally-chameleon central performance but short-changing his boss, wife, daughter and rival with little to do but just move along the subplots sully the affair somewhat. However, In-Gu's brother is wonderfully realized with just a small amount of screen time. The two of them verbally sparring while reminiscing about the old days ends in a childish water bottle fight that sums up In-Gu's yearnings in one beautifully crafted scene.

It is worth staying for the final moments of the film (despite two or more awkward false endings) which will make the picture a memorable one. The package may be a bit too shiny and events resolve a bit too facilely to earn its punch, but the central performance does wonders. To these western eyes, The Show Must Go On is also an interesting comment on the pressures of middle aged men in modern South Korea and the sacrifices that have to be made along the way. It is a solid attempt to take something decidedly mainstream and stretch its audience.