I haven't seen a Park Chan-Wook movie probably since
Thirst, but I basically liked this movie––enough to make me go back and see what I've been missing over the last few years (including
The Handmaiden and
The Little Drummer Girl). And for me Tang Wei is the actress with perhaps the greatest potential in film today––someone with a supremely expressive face, who is willing to play less-than-sympathetic roles full-force, without demure or any sense of self-consciousness––I thought her performance here made a potentially very artificial-seeming role very natural and believable. I didn't see the other actors rising to that level, exactly, but I thought the film presented an intriguing scenario, and I admired how it blossomed into full-throated romance by the end.
That said, the film relies really, really heavily on film genre tropes to work––it especially counts on you having a sense of the noir femme fatale, the black widow trope, in order to appreciate what's going on in the picture, and I don't know how I feel about that in the end. The whole film seems to exist in genre-land, without much connecting it to the real world, or connecting it to anything outside of naked appreciation of cinema. It ends up making the film feel a little more like an exercise than it feels like a film with any artistic statements coming out of it. By the time the film finished I had a lot of trouble trying to figure out what it was supposed to mean. The element of Tang Wei's character being the descendent of a national hero was intriguing, but it was just dropped right after it was introduced. Once the film evolves into its final, game-like form, it felt like the film had crawled up its own *sshole in a way––which is to say, I found the ending poignant, but totally artificial. I did not buy what I saw happening at the end. It felt like the conclusion of a story, but I felt the film had shed all attempt at plausibility in order to get there.
This lady Tang Wei plays just ends up being so ingeniously calculating, it seemed beyond real––beyond realistic for any person, in other words. Her murders, designed to draw the detective nearer to her, and then her suicide, which is premeditated to a perversely precise degree. It's dubious to me such a lively mind would decide that this suicide would be worthwhile, or necessary at this point. Did she simply run out of ideas to keep the detective close to her?
So I think the film demands you love film and film genre more than you love the experience of fiction, and its relationship to the world we actually live in, and I that demand is just a little suffocating to me.
None of that is new for Park Chan-Wook, a filmmaker who loves playing with genre. But I found that I could see the vengeance films, for all their heady stylization, as a sort of anthropological/philosophical treatise, taking the concept of revenge––a purportedly timeless human urge––and challenging it with the urbanity of our modern world. Does revenge have a role in modern society? The three Vengeance films query that notion, making different arguments to ultimately suggest that our modern world boasts too complex a social interrelation between us all for revenge to be a viable reaction to the iniquities of contemporary existence. That's an idea which reaches out of these films, which I can hold onto and turn around in my head after the films are over. But I didn't experience anything like that after seeing
Decision to Leave. It seemed like a movie's movie, but I'm at a loss for something that might transcend the boundaries of the film and leave me with something to think about. Did I just miss it?
On the other hand, I really appreciated the film centering on this extraordinary woman––even if she didn't seem entirely real––whereas
Burning came across to me with an annoying whiff of misogyny, which I thought came partly from the Murakami story and partly from the filmmakers themselves. I saw
Decision to Leave as being ostensibly about a man coming to understand that the woman who loves him is so very far beyond him. He grows to worship her, in a way...but she is incandescent, and he can't quite be enough to save her––and for some reason, she can't seem to save herself. That said, besides the central relationship between the cop and the
pseudo-femme-fatale (about as "fatale" as Barbara Stanwyck in The File on Thelma Jordan)
, there isn't a lot to supplement this reading. Every other character in the movie serves this central story, and has no life extending beyond it; they are all
potential victims
or they exist to pull the detective off the hunt. There's actually more in common with
Burning than I first reckoned; because
Burning has in it a woman who is ultimately unknowable––though she becomes coded in the film as "victim" more than the author of her own fate––and
Decision to Leave is even more pointedly about figuring out an ambiguous woman's motivations. But
DTL doesn't leave this woman unknowable at the end. Her motives are understandable––she is just beyond our hero. She thinks faster, in a more complicated way. She feels more. And in a sense, the "good man" she tells her dead parents she has found is a sort of disappointment to her––someone who can't quite get on her wavelength; someone who realizes what she means always just a little too late.
Burning actually reaches out into our real world in exactly the way
Decision to Leave doesn't for me, but I did find I admired
Decision to Leave's..."spirit," I guess is what I would call it. It's "drift." And I liked it more than
Burning for that reason.
I also felt that I didn't understand the movie's drift in key ways. I didn't get the meaning of Tang Wei's character being "othered." I mean, as a femme fatale, yes, of course. But there were frequent references to her being Chinese as a sort of wedge between her and the other characters. At the end of the film there was the sense that, in introducing the detective to her dead parents, that Tang Wei's character was being a sort of filial Korean daughter––at least, that's the sense I got of it. And the idea that she's related to a Korean political hero seems meant to link her inextricably to Korean society. But I just didn't see what all that ended up meaning. I guess it helped the other characters to treat her like an outsider, so that they all end up encouraging the detective to steer clear of her, to just arrest her and get on with life. But I have the sense I'm either missing something substantial there, or that facet of the film is simply not terribly far developed.
So those are my thoughts on the film. They're a little bit scattered, because I basically liked the film, but then felt after seeing it that it wasn't really enough, in a way. This was an amplification of a feeling I had during the whole film, but the mis en scene was so swift, sure and bracing throughout that I didn't really pay attention to my misgivings until I tried to parse out what I thought I'd been watching, afterwards. Was it a great movie? I don't know. It didn't seem quite great. But I liked it.