Over and over again, the film shows how destructive Yon-suk's selfish form of survivalism is. Driven by fear, his actions lead directly to the deaths of others, but do not save him in the end: a deliberate irony, as he runs the railway - the cinematic world - the others rely on.
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(This is likewise paralleled again between Yon-suk & Seok-woo: whereas the former throws a teenage girl to the zombies to try and save himself, Seok-woo ultimately dives from the train when infected to protect Su-an and Seung-kyeong.)
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And then, the perfect gracenote to a story about how classism poisons survival, the necessity of children for a future and the vital importance of empathy: the significance of Su-an's song.
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At the start of the film, Seok-woo is a distracted, divorced father, too busy at work to attend Su-an's class recital. He watches a video of her starting a song but failing to complete it. She later tells him she practised it for him and couldn't sing because he wasn't there.
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In the film's final scene, a shellshocked Su-an & Seong-kyeong stagger through a railway tunnel towards soldiers who, at a distance, cannot distinguish their shuffling from that of zombies. Their orders are to shoot them if they cannot verify their humanity.
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And then, through her sobs, Su-an finally finishes the song meant for her now-dead father - he told her early on to always finish what she starts - and the music, amplified by the tunnel, proves their humanity to the soldiers. Because you need *culture* to be human, too.
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