The truth is that I have suddenly found myself watching a lot of Korean films lately, in spite of the fact that our friend Kevin has been raving about them for years. Ironically, that fact has been my chief motivating factor for avoiding these movies for as long as I have but don't tell Kevin I said that.

Instead, let's talk about director Park Chan-wook, who's been around while but just now came to my attention. I first watched his most recent feature, Decision to Leave, a couple of weeks ago. Released in 2022, Decision to Leave has a slightly Hitchcockian feel to it without recalling any Hitchcock film in particular. A detective obsessed with cold cases is called out to investigate the mysterious death of a climber whose body has been found at the base of a cliff he regularly scaled. The man, a former immigration officer, may have accidentally fallen but something about the victim's much-younger Chinese wife arouses the suspicions of the lead detective. He begins surveilling her house at night, and over the course of these nocturnal stakeouts, Detective Jang Hae-jun finds himself falling under the spell of this beguiling creature. But is she really casting a "spell"? Is there even a murder to investigate? Or is the lonely, overworked cop looking for reasons to remain close to the woman? This is the dilemma faced by the lead characters in Decision to Leave, a sinuous psychological thriller-cum-romance that stars award-winning actor Park Hae-il as Hae-jun and Tang Wei as the mysterious widow, Song Seo-rae. For this pair--with regards to the film, you can't really think of them as a couple--happy endings have proved elusive in both their lives. Hae-jun, with his insomnia, frequently-absent wife and sexless marriage, sidesteps his loneliness by sifting through evidence of old, nearly-forgotten cases; Song's marriage had been punctuated with cruelty and abuse. The attraction Hae-jun feels for Song is not mutual--initially. Yet, as more evidence mounts against Song, the more Hae-jun is drawn to her, and she to him. It is, indeed, a fatal attraction but a far more labyrinthine affair than might be expected. 

Even so, it's not neo-noir, despite plot descriptions suggesting that's just what it is; Park Chan-wook's direction is too subtle for that. Still, Decision to Leave does have a certain mid-20th century Hollywood feel that presents material either Hitchcock or Otto Preminger might have directed without making many notable changes (other than a change of location) to this current script. Kim Ji-yong's gorgeous cinematography highlights the lovely locations in and around Busan, and Cho Yeong-wook's score is a perfect complement to the film. I especially liked the director's inclusion of the song, Mist, which adds to the film's emotional component. 

The Handmaiden, Chan-wook's 2016 film adaptation of Sarah Waters' The Fingersmith, is equally compelling, lushly romantic, and--in some ways--far more cruel than Decision to Leave. Set in Japan-occupied Korea, The Handmaiden finds a sheltered Japanese heiress the target of a dastardly plot to relieve her of her fortune. In a disorderly Korean household, Sook-hee (Kim Tai-ree), daughter of a notorious (and recently executed) pickpocket, supplements her own criminal activities by caring for local infants whose prospective buyers are enroute to pick them up. When suave thief and all-around shitheel, Count Fujiwara (Ha Jung-woo) shows up, he enlists Sook-hee to pose as the new handmaiden to a wealthy young woman he plans to woo, wed and stash away in an insane asylum in order to make off with her riches. He just needs someone to pose as a handmaiden and gain the friendship and trust of his prospective wife. Eager to escape her humdrum existence, Sook-hee agrees to the plan but not without first being guaranteed a cut of the profits. 

Meanwhile, in the forbidding confines of a remote country estate, the orphaned Hideko (Kim Min-hee) lives with her imperious uncle-by-marriage, the treacherous book forger, Kouzuki (Cho Jin-woong). By day, she is forced to endure her elderly uncle's tutoring sessions so that she can read fluently in Korean. At night, Hideko dreams of her aunt, Kouzuki's wife, who allegedly hanged herself in the backyard when Hideko was a child. As it happens, Uncle Kouzuki has his own big plans for Hideko.

When Sook-hee arrives to replace the former handmaiden, she finds herself irresistibly drawn to her intended victim. A friendship, of sorts, quickly develops between the two, and then something more. The scheduled appearance of Count Fujiwara on the scene suddenly throws Sook-hee into conflict: tasked with encouraging Hideko to make love with the Count, Sook-hee begins having second thoughts, especially knowing what is in store for the girl. The plot thickens, and it turns out that no one is to be trusted in Uncle Kouzuki's house of horrors. 

Darkly funny, ravishingly photographed (by Chung Chung-hoon), cleverly plotted and nicely acted, The Handmaiden is a psychological thriller that really thrills! It's a mindfuck offering unexpected twists and turns, eye-popping visuals and edge-of-your-seat suspense. It also has the two leading ladies engaging in a fair amount of NC-17-rated sex so if you're put off your noodles by explicit coupling, don't say you weren't warned. 

The dialogue in Decision to Leave is Korean; in The Handmaiden, it's Japanese and Korean. Both films feature English-language subtitles. 

Though very different, both Decision to Leave and The Handmaiden aptly demonstrate Park Chan-wook's amazing talent as a film director. I'll be looking forward to seeing more of his work, starting with the so-called Vengeance Trilogy: Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, Oldboy, and Lady Vengeance. And while I'm at it, I'm going to check out Sarah Waters' source material for The Handmaiden once the reading pile next to the bed shows some shrinkage. To put this in perspective, the entire state of Florida almost certainly will be underwater by the time I get to the bottom of said reading pile.