Walking on Thin Ice (2025) A Parable on Money
Some minor spoilers…
In the Old Testament, Jeremiah, the prophet writes that “the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick, who can understand it?” The heart, purportedly the seat of emotions is an unreliable moral compass and prone to self-deception. It’s far too easy for human agents to deceive themselves into believing that they have the best intentions or motivations even when acting against their consciences and societal norms. When things get tough, it is natural to take the path of least resistance and then the self-justification follows. Motives are seldom straightforward especially when large sums of money are involved.
Eun-su, the drama’s protagonist is in dire need of money and has compelling reasons for wanting a piece of the proverbial pie. At the start it’s easy to argue from her perspective that life is abominably unfair. That’s not in dispute. Not only is her husband dying but there’s not a lot of left in the family coffers. His treatment requires money — unseemly amounts of it —but there’s no assurance on the medical front of success either. On the face of it, Eun-soo seems to be a good wife and mother wanting the best for her family but the show is devastating in its exploration of how a single bad decision leads to worse decisions and ultimately to destruction. Superficially it does seem like it’s about merely about solving a financial problem. However, it seldom is just about economics because our tenuous relationship with money is fraught with moral implications.
The self-justification is given an initial burst of oxygen when Eun-su frames herself as a victim. It’s not hard to see why. She sees the injustice of it all. She’s worked hard her whole life and done the right thing only to find out that hardly anyone cares. She may be genuine about saving her husband despite the slim odds but the first clue that it’s not all about him when she resorts to lies about the source of her newfound wealth.
In this show the prospect of money brings out the worst of every single person. If these characters are to be believed, the answer to every problem is money… until the love of money creates new problems and exacerbates minor ones.
As the drama demonstrates unequivocally it suits the wealthy and powerful to make lesser mortals believe that money is at the root of happiness. It means that the plebs work harder to buy more, to consume more products. They become slaves to the economic system which enriched them. Rather than creating an aspirational environment, it reinforces and gatekeeps class distinctions based on economic achievements.
There’s a fascinating sequence of scenes in the drama resembling infomercials. Eun-su and daughter Su-A are shopping and salivating over things they can’t afford. It’s a luxuriously outfitted display apartment and a state-of-the-art bed. And then Eun-su gazes admiringly at a well-equipped apartment, has an attack of the warm fuzzies imagining the family around the dinner table in perfect harmony. Advertising promises us what our world could be like while glossing over the price tag — one that few can really afford without becoming a slave to debt.
The real world, though not without creature comforts, is far removed from that fantasy and out of reach for most. But the moral universe of Eun-su and Lee Kyung’s world doesn’t let up. No one gets away with anything. Not a single soul. That’s the price of dabbling with illegal substances.
That’s why it makes sense that there’s no romance between the leads. It starts off with Eun-su as the student and the more worldly Lee Gyeong as her dubious mentor. Eun-su is a quick study with a flair for accounting but when things go haywire and off the rails, she becomes the de facto parental figure that he’s been sorely lacking. There can’t be a romance too because it would mean that what they did was justified in some fashion. They understood each other after eyeing one another suspiciously for the longest time but in the end it was empathy not eros. At the time when he needed his family the most, he was abandoned. His revenge on the monster corporation and its errant offspring will certainly resonate with the audience but like everything else good the results are bittersweet. Selling drugs is what bound them together and it is only fitting that it ends their relationship.
No doubt Walking on Thin Ice is a Christian parable/allegory. There is none righteous. No not one. True godliness with contentment is itself great wealth. Accumulating earthly treasure is no guarantee of a lifetime of happiness as we peer into the lives of the law professor’s family as a contrast. Her marriage is in shambles even as she turns up her nose at the diligent Eun-su working part time in her local supermarket. Their daughter’s mental state is falling apart with all the pressure from home and school. There’s no denying that money is an advantage but it cannot bring peace of mind to a troubled heart.
Walking on Thin Ice will likely be one of the year’s best thanks to the production values that has the viewer on tenterhooks all throughout. Thematically it has plenty to offer. Performances are riveting and it’s certainly helped by strong cohesive script that never falters.
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