Decision To Leave (Heojil Kyolshim)

South Korea. City-based detective Hae-joon (Park Hae-il from The Fortress, Hwang Dong-hyuk, 2017; The Host, 2006, Memories Of Murder, 2003, both Bong Joon ho) is married to a science nerd (Jung Yi-seo) who works at a nuclear plant in the seaside town of Ipo. Whatever sexual or romantic energy once existed between them has long since evaporated. She tolerates sex with him once a week on the grounds that research has shown it’s good for you and keeps you sharp, but she doesn’t appear to enjoy it much, going through the motions of a necessary chore. There doesn’t seem to be much more to this marriage for either of them than keeping up appearances. She lives and works in Ipo while he spends most of his working time away in the city, often going on nighttime stakeouts to observe suspects and forget about his habitual insomnia.

Which means that when Hae-joon finds himself investigating a case in which skilled amateur climber Ki Do-soo (Yoo Seung-mok from The Gangster, The Cop, The Devil, Lee Won-Tae, 2019; also The Host, Memories Of Murder) has fallen from a great height and the dead man’s Chinese-born wife Seo-rye (Tang Wei from Lust, Caution, Ang Lee, 2007) is a murder suspect, the detective is much more interested in her as a romantic subject than as a possible perpetrator, and this sensibility clouds his judgement. Eventually the case is closed, and she gets off scot-free, but the more time Hae-joon spends with her after this, and the more we see of her, the more likely it seems that she was the murderer.

The above constitutes what one might call the film’s first act. This first act and the subsequent second act, in which certain plot elements recur, recalls Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958). In the second act, Hae-joon has moved to the seaside town presumably so that he can spend more time with his wife. One day the couple are wandering though the fish market where they run into Seo-rye, who by coincidence has likewise moved into the area, with her new and shady financial consultant husband in tow. The latter seems more keen than he should be to talk to Hae-joon’s wife and leaves her his card.

It turns out this second husband has a history as a scam merchant and has made a lot of enemies along the way. Before we get to know him much more, however, he turns up dead in his swimming pool. His wife could be responsible, but there is another suspect too, a victim of his sharp business practices, who looks more likely.

Rather than allowing all this to unfold in straightforward linear narrative fashion, director Park works in terms of layers and constantly jumps back and forth throughout. This is at once enthralling and infuriating to watch; enthralling because of the myriad of painstakingly worked out details piled on top of one another, infuriating because there is so much going on at any one time that it’s easy to lose track.

Things might make more sense on a second viewing, but equally they might simply prove as confusing as they did first time round. Without a second watch, it’s impossible to say. Nevertheless, it’s a very rich film, thoroughly engrossing; one to which, having seen it once, you’ll want to return.

Decision To Leave is out in cinemas from Friday, 21st October. On Amazon Prime, Apple TV, Curzon Home Cinema in March.

The Handmaiden

The grudge and the rivalry between the Japanese and the Korean is no novelty, but what about transposing this inimicality into an unlikely lesbian romance with a British twang? This very ambitious endeavour is inspired on Fingersmith, a 2002 historical crime novel set in Victorian Era Britain by and written by Sarah Waters, moved to Korea in the 1930s, the period of Japanese occupation. And a big chunk of the action takes place inside a countryhouse blending British and Japanese architecture. The Handmaiden is a rich mélange of cultural references.

The very young, petite and charming Sookee (Kim Tae-ri) is hired as a handmaiden to the taller, older and equally attractive Japanese heiress Hideko (Kim Min-hee). She lives in a large, secluded and impressive mansion in the countryside. In reality, Sookee was recruited by a criminal posing as a Japanese Count in order to help him to seduce the rich lady, seize her wealth and lock her up in a mental asylum. But soon the two women are sexually drawn to each other, and the plans takes an unexpected turn. Many more twists will follow, in a very long and epic story divided in three parts.

The cinematography of the film is certain to leave you breathless: the costumes are plush, the residences are luxurious, the outside is bright and verdant. The film aesthetics are somewhere between Amélie (Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 2001) and Realm of the Senses (Nagisa Oshima, 1976). In other words, it’s a combination carnal pleasures and colourful fantasy. It’s a 100% technically accomplished movie, but it fails in some other aspects.

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The Japanese heiress Hideko is extremely elegant and attractive.

The sex scenes partly are partly convincing. While there is definitely sexual tension between the two beautiful actresses, and some moments are highly erotic – including a 69, scissor sisters action and very bizarre finger-in-the-mouth moment – the gaze remains extremely masculine. Park Chan-wook may have wanted to celebrate lesbian romance, particularly as he found inspiration in a book authored by a woman, but the final outcome comes across as a piece of male voyeurism. I doubt that lesbians will relate to all the wiggling and giggling of the two protagonists.

Another problem with the film is the gratuitous violence in the end, which comes across as a very perverse substitute for the previous carnal pleasures. And the convoluted film narrative has some redundant elements. The repetition of some sequences, while placed in an entirely new context, sometimes feels a little long and unnecessary.

The Handmaiden is showing in the BFI Flare London LGBT Film Festival taking place this week – click here for more information about the event. The film is out in cinemas in April.