Park Bo-young in Concrete Utopia (815 Pictures and Lotte Entertainment)

At first glance, the most absurdist thing about Concrete Utopia is its earth-shattering catalyst. A massive earthquake tears through Seoul, the scale of its destruction resembling something out of 2000s-era disaster movies like 2012, where, however shocking, the special effects can’t help but look a little goofy. Thankfully, this action-thriller stands apart for everything going on in the wake of the earthquake’s aftermath.

Somehow, one apartment complex manages to survive intact. Food is limited, and its residents are prone to some degree of in-fighting. Though compared to the miles of collapsed buildings and dead bodies outside, the Hwang Gung Apartments might as well be a resort for its unit owners. The only problem? Now former public servant Min-sung (Park Seo-jun) and his wife, Myung-hwa (Park Bo-young), and the other residents find themselves grappling with how best to sustain order. Hundreds of nonresidents are flocking to their building for food and shelter, and, in the residents’ minds, tough choices must be made. During a meeting on how best to handle the situation, Min-sung tells his neighbors that they need more than just a durable system. They need a leader, or delegate, to make the final say on enforcing the apartment’s rules, however cutthroat they may seem to outsiders.

That title ends up falling to Young-tak (Lee Byung-hun), an older, reserved man who resides just a few floors above Min-sung. In one of the more heroic scenes, Yeong-tak successfully takes initiative to put out an apartment fire with Min-sung’s help, earning the respect of his neighbors. And where others might feel squeamish about doing harsh things to ensure group survival, Young-tak seems at ease. With a chant of “Our apartments belong to the residents,” he makes a firm stand against permitting outsiders within the apartment grounds. The other tenants quickly rally behind him, building a makeshift governmental hierarchy and programs to locate food and prosecute crimes. In other words, they allow life to go on as if circumstances were normal.

Of course, life rarely stays normal in a dystopian disaster film. There’s a layer of biting satire to director Um Tae-hwa’s film—itself inspired by the WEBTOON series Pleasant Bullying—critiquing class status and how much people will sacrifice to retain privilege. Some of the satire is lighthearted. A sequence detailing the new jobs and rules of Hwang Gung is a cross between a Wes Anderson pastiche and an airplane safety video, right down to its orchestral music choice. Others are blunter, like a former, homeless politician making an impassionate speech in hopes of getting a place in the building.

At first, you sympathize with the protagonists. They’re largely middle-class and express bitterness at how neighboring apartments once looked down on them prior to the quake, so you like seeing them on top for once. Quite literally. Under Young-tak’s guidance, though, this attitude takes a dark turn. Outsiders are labeled “cockroaches,” including those hiding in the building; murders are committed in Seoul’s ruins to acquire food; and citizens become more invested in their community’s living conditions above all else. So long as you perceive the apartment community as the only thing that matters, a lot can be excused. It’s a philosophy that inevitably cracks the more we learn about Young-tak’s past.

What makes this setup unnerving is how casual Concrete Utopia feels, often playing like a domestic drama in terms of lighting and cinematography. Only when the camera pulls back to reveal the devastation outside and the characters beyond Hwang Gung’s walls below do we realize how bleak this world has become. And, more drastically, how this commitment to isolation exasperates the residents’ willingness to reject the humanity of others. While actors Seo-jun and Byung-hun make a strong leading pair, it’s Bo-young who proves the unexpected heart of the movie as someone willing to challenge the community’s ethics. In turn, she exposes the fissures of a seemingly idealistic ecosystem prone to hypocrisy and dishonesty.

The world outside is no deeper than your standard dystopian film, and these non-apartment scenes are where Concrete Utopia is at its weakest. Yet the apartment building truly gives the movie its own distinct identity within the genre. So many disaster films feature tight-knit communities whose residents have devolved into Saturday morning cartoon villains. It’s far more compelling when you can see yourself in these survivors and wonder how much you’d go along with their choices, just to survive the apocalypse living in better real estate.