Park Chan-wook is back - and his work is as enthralling as ever...
Director: Park Chan-wook
Starring: Tang Wei, Go Kyung-Pyo, Park Hae-il
Running time: 138 minutes
South Korean auteur Park Chan-wook has had a long running oeuvre with a myriad of dark, violent and tragic thrillers. While these components are still very much within the filmic DNA of Decision to Leave, it is a much looser and lighter film. Chan-wook takes aspects of a melancholic and tortuous melodrama and harmonises them with something much more whimsical and genuinely comical, although in a macabre-esque way. These tonal shifts that occur don’t cause any horrendous whiplash; instead each scene eases into the next, flowing like a grand tableaux thanks to the film's wonderful editing and composition work.
Although he is in a sixteen-year-long, seemingly happy marriage – albeit one that is defined as a “weekend marriage” – detective Hae-joon (Park Hae-il) never seems content. As is common in crime films, his erratic working hours and strained obsession with catching criminals has left him with nothing but insomnia. The introduction of Seo Rae, an alluring and enigmatic woman played beautifully by Tang Wei, seems to alleviate these problems and as they become closer he starts becoming seemingly more content. It is through this connection, which eventually morphs into something very powerful, that Chan-wook explores the concept of domesticity and alienation.
Despite the initial simplicity, the film is repeatedly complicated by a wide range of twists and turns; until the story slowly dissolves into a mere husk, and is replaced by pure style and emotions
Hae-joon’s wife appears to be a lovely woman but she is constantly speaking in statistics and trying to persuade Hae-joon to move, or lambasting him when she thinks he has fallen into the trap of smoking again. He is consistently retreating back to Hae-joon; whether he is staking her house, which involves him spying on her through a telescope, reminiscent of Jefferies in Rear Window, or is cooking her his own interpretation of Chinese food, which he is lightly mocked for. These small interactions make him feel truly alive and helps construct this impassioned relationship which, for a short time, makes the film feel fiercely romantic. Although it is constantly driving you to its climax of tragic fatalism, as all good things can never last.
Like all great noirs, Decision to Leave has a seemingly straightforward set up – a detective falls in love with a widow who is suspected of murder. Despite the initial simplicity, the film is repeatedly complicated by a wide range of twists and turns; until the story slowly dissolves into a mere husk, and is replaced by pure style and emotions. The simplicity of the story is brought to life by the dynamic chemistry of the two leads who make their seemingly doomed romance feel compellingly real. As is common with most classical noirs, it is much more enjoyable to take it for its romantic allure, fatalistic atmosphere and its formalistic elements.
On its outer core Decision to Leave appears to be a crime thriller, but when you get down to the beating heart of the film it is much more focused on the dramatic tensions between two people whose romance is hopeless and destined to fail
With that in mind it is easy to fall deeply in love with this film, which feels fresh and innovative. Many directors have failed, or not even tried, to accurately represent how mobile phones are used on screen. Luckily Chan-wook has turned something as mundane as using a mobile phone into a fascinating visual spectacle that feels engaging; with one camera angle even sitting inside the phone screen, showing the characters expressionistic faces as they eagerly await a reply back from their lovers. Seo Rae also occasionally uses an app to translate her native Chinese into Korean, which brings about the element of language and how we can’t always figure out how to say exactly what we mean. Alongside smartphones, Decision to Leave makes perfect use of mirrors and computer screens to highlight different characters' facial expressions and reactions as they interact.
Another beautiful aspect of the film's unique style is how it uses plot to tell its story. Scenes will often jump back in time without any sort of warning, then continually jump to and from time periods to relay its story. Or when two scenes are playing out at the same time, instead of cutting between the two, Chan-wook drops one character into the other scene – despite them not actually being there. These elements actively alter the film's temporality making it feel as if time is moving at a pace unbeknownst to us, or just nonexistent at all. While this certainly adds to the convolution of the plot, making it perhaps more complicated than it needs to be, the priority of form over content makes this a non issue.
On its outer core Decision to Leave appears to be a crime thriller, or a whodunit that weaves multiple cases across different time periods. But when you get down to the beating heart of the film it is much more focused on the dramatic tensions between two people whose romance is hopeless and destined to fail. It is stylish, romantic, mysterious and above all else – hilarious. People have called this film an erotic thriller, but it feels much more like a romantic comedy. Revelling in both its farcical procedural elements and the burgeoning romance at its core, the film rarely feels like a modern crime thriller but instead becomes something more akin to a classical fifties noir.
Did you know? This is the official submission of South Korea for the 'Best International Feature Film' category of the 95th Academy Awards in 2023.
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