The Handmaiden (aka Ah-ga-ssi)

Ben Wa Like Beckham

The Handmaiden (aka Ah-ga-ssi)
South Korea 2016 Directed by Chan-wook Park
UK cinema release print.

Chan-wook Park is one of those directors I seem to react differently to every time I see a new movie by him. For instance, I found the first two films in his ‘vengeance trilogy’, Sympathy For Mr. Vengeance and Oldboy to be more miss than hit, whereas I loved the third part, Lady Vengeance and, in a way, I guess I quite enjoyed his ‘American movie’ Stoker, to a certain extent.

The Handmaiden is an ‘adaptation’ of the Sarah Walters novel Fingersmith, which was already filmed as a TV show by the BBC. Since I’ve not read the original novel nor seen the original TV show, I can’t in all honesty say whether this is a truthful adaptation of the novel or not... although after Ms. Walters saw the screenplay it is alleged she asked the writer/director to instead credit is as ‘inspired’ by the novel so... I’m guessing not. And by the looks of it, the whole of the third part of the film, which is split up into three acts as the original, is completely different and with a different outcome to the source material. I understand it’s a lot more upbeat than the original which, in a way, surprised me since it’s Chan-wook Park we’re dealing with here but, of course, that’s what’s great about cinema... it can sometimes surprise you if you’re able to drop your guard for long enough.

The film, in its initial set up, tells the story of ‘The Count’, played brilliantly by Jung-woo Ha and his collaborator Sook-Hee, played even more amazingly by Tae-ri Kim. She infiltrates the house of The Count’s romantic interest as her handmaiden in order that the lady of the house,  Lady Hideko, played just as amazingly by Min-hee Kim, can be ‘gaslighted’ in order for her ‘fortune’ to be wrested from her as she is committed to an insane asylum. And that’s the surface set up and I’m not going to go into too much detail about it because, as with many of these movies dealing with gaslighting, there’s a twist or three in the tail and I have to say my hat off to Park for actually surprising me when I should have been paying more attention, with a delicious twist I’m amazed I missed at the end of the first act. I honestly don’t know how I missed that one.

All I can say is that I must have been so distracted by the gorgeous cinematography, the slow and hypnotic pacing and the beautiful editing of the piece that I was so thoroughly entranced by the mise-en-scene as to be so completely taken in with something which, in a movie by any other director, perhaps, I would have seen coming from the first five minutes. So my respect for this guy goes up another notch, it has to be said.

However, it’s also true to say that there is more than one twist in the movie and the other twist at the end of the second act was something I totally saw, pretty much straight away after the first twist was revealed... so there’s that. I did, at least, retain my dignity in the face of chicanery in the second and third parts of the movie, as the beautiful combination of pitch perfect performances under some wonderful lighting coupled with some absolutely essential girl on girl action threatened to sweep away any further mental cogitation from the dank recesses of my flickering, watching brain.

Another rich texture in the movie was the musical score, which seemed to be a combination of the compositions of Yeong-wook Jo coupled with a fair few ‘found’ pieces of music, needle dropped into the soundtrack. I did, actually, notice the patchwork effect of the different styles of music threatening to tug at the scenes of the overall scoring element of the movie at times but it actually all just about manages to work without jarring the continuity of the ear too much.

It's a slow burn of a movie and fans of 'Hollywood pacing only' are possibly advised not to sit through this one as the running time on this is not too far shy of three hours. Frankly, though, any cinephile worth their celluloid salt is going to want to see this movie because it’s such a perfect blend of the various elements of the cinematic art/craft that the sumptuous design and elegance with which the actors portray the characters is so haunting that you’ll be thinking about certain shots still a day or two later.

Fans of the director may find The Handmaiden a little more subtle in its approach to a subject matter which is, lets face it, a far from subtle style of melodrama but I don’t think any Park fans will be disappointed with this movie, for sure. There is beauty in pretty much every image, even when those images are dealing with torture and death. A deftly handled film which, despite its running time, doesn’t outstay its welcome and lets you leave the cinema feeling like you’ve really watched something worth seeing... which, of course, you have. Looking on interestedly now, to see what Park will be up to next.

Carol

Aird Today, Gone Tomorrow

Carol
2015 UK/USA/France
Directed by Todd Haynes
UK cinema release print.

Exquisite.

That’s probably a good word for this movie, if I’d been asked to sum it up immediately after seeing it at my local cinema.

I don’t think I’ve seen any movies directed by Todd Haynes apart from his other 1950s set film Far From Heaven... which was pretty good and lured me to the cinema with the promise of an interesting Elmer Bernstein score. In the case of Carol there were a number of factors which compelled me to pick this one out among others for my Sunday trip to the local picture house this week.

For one thing, I’d not read a single tweet about this movie from people who had been to see it at the London Film Festival that was, in any way, negative. They’d all been downright through the roof in terms of their positivity, in actual fact. There was also the promise of a new score by Carter Burwell, a composer who I quite like, although I do find him a bit hit and miss. The few tweets I’d seen about the score, however, were also extremely enthusiastic... and so I decided to see this one as soon as I could to see what I thought of said score, in case a purchase of the CD was necessary.

Of course, I’d be lying if I didn’t say a major draw to going to see this movie was the prospect of seeing the villain from Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull indulging in hot ‘girl on girl’ action with The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo but... heck, nobody asked me so I shall refrain from mentioning that aspect of the story unless politely asked.

So this movie is based on a novel Patricia Highsmith wrote under a pseudonym in the early 1950s (which is the period in which this movie is more or less set) called The Price Of Salt. Well, I don’t know what that title’s got to do with... um... anything ;-) but, whatever, it was retitled Carol decades later when it was reprinted under Highsmith’s own name. Alas, it’s not a novel I have read so, in terms of the quality of the adaptation, I can’t tell you how true it is to the source novel... although I understand the ending is not far off, in fact.

What I can tell you is that, with Carol, I’ve seen an absolutely amazing movie and one which will easily slide somewhere into my top ten for this year. The film centres on the intense, loving relationship between the two main protagonists Therese Belivet (pronounced Tirez), and played by Rooney Mara and the title character Carol Aird, played by Cate Blanchett... and the devastating effect it has on both their lives, especially when it is used against Carol to bolster an injunction to prevent her seeing her daughter during a messy, divorce child custody hearing. Both actresses, of course, are absolutely perfect in their roles... Blanchett coming over as a bit splashier than usual but, frankly, I could watch her ‘til the cows come home (so to speak) and with the pixie-like Mara playing almost an Audrey Hepburn/Breakfast At Tiffany’s kind of role, at least in terms of channeling a gorgeously delicate, waifish visual reference that makes up the look of the character.

Watching these two and the chemistry they bring to this half hidden lesbian relationship, and the subtlety of their facial expressions and body language... with the writing often leaving out unnecessary dialogue to accommodate the silent aspects of the performance... it seems pretty clear that the director couldn’t have asked for two more perfect actresses performing their central roles than these two do here. What they bring with them in terms of professional performance is absolutely astonishing.

What’s more rewarding here though, is that the visual design, the editing and the sound design all work in perfect harmony and are used to enhance the performances to the nth degree, with Haynes meticulous control over the look and sound of the film being quite evident in every frame which flickers past the eyes and ears. This is amazing cinema and the director is doing some really cool but controlled things here.

I say he’s meticulous because he’s using pretty much every vertical (and the occasional curve) to split the screen and chop it up into sections throughout the entire movie. Using the lines in sharp contrast, even when they are a background element, and placing the various actors within these sectioned off spaces to lead the eyes of the audience to go exactly where he wants them to in order to pick up on the details of the rich performances littered throughout the canvass of this extraordinary work of art. It’s quite startling how much he does this all the way throughout the running time too... pretty much most, if not all, of the time, I would guess. It’s like watching an Italian giallo from the late 1960s/early 1970s or a movie by Sergio Leone. Everything is compartmentalised and framed within a specific section of space... blinding stuff.

Another thing he does, not quite as often but certainly enough that it keeps cropping up again and again throughout the movie, is to have the camera eye of the collective audience look through something (or occasionally peak out from behind something in terms of camera movement to fulfil the destination of the final frame in a sequence) such as a sheet of distressed glass or a curtain or some such transparent, textured material. This gives the element to a lot of the movie of each audience member being a voyeur rather than just naturally following the drama in the way one normally would. We are collectively eavesdropping on conversations and moments of expression as we observe through a secondary layer and this, of course, makes the audience feel more empathy with the characters even as the director uses the distance of that intermediary plane, combined with the compartmentalising of the screen I’ve already talked about, as a form of visual tension. And, of course, in the many shots where he doesn’t use this tactic, we are suddenly, through that style of entrance into certain scenes of the characters who inhabit the movie, brought into the midst of the action with no barrier to empathy at all. This is because the contrast between shots where he does this and shots where he doesn’t conditions us to feel completely relaxed and in the moment.

He also uses sound quite brilliantly.

For instance, he has a cleverly constructed sequence at the start which he sets up to be a potential book end device for the film and from which most of the action of the running time takes place in flashback. When we see an emotionally fuelled moment early on in the proceedings, which we know will mean a whole lot more to us when we see the back story of the two leading protagonists, Therese finds herself whisked away in a taxi and looking out the window in a possible moment of deep regret (and yeah, of course, we are observing her from the outside of the window which has rain trickling down the glass). As we sense the tension building, the director has the natural sounds of the street, cars and alarm bells from passing premises, coming up in volume on the foley with all the kind of impact that a whistling kettle has when it’s near to boiling point. This perfectly re-enforces the tensions of the emotions the viewer senses he or she is supposed to be feeling while simultaneously signalling the affirmation of alarm as the key tone of the character at this point. And, again, this is a tactic the director seems to use a few times during the course of the film.

And staying with this opening sequence... the other clever thing he does, by using this flashback formula, is set up an assumption that we are seeing the end of the movie when, in fact... well I really don’t want to spoil this one for you but the opening sets up an emotional tone which doesn’t necessarily reveal the true ending of the movie. To quote a cliché, it isn’t over until the fat lady sings and all I will say about the conclusion of this particular ‘forbidden romance’ is... it’s not what I was expecting and I’m a sucker for this kind of ending. So I was really pleased with the way the story content in this movie turned out.

And, of course, we have that score.

Carter Burwell’s score.

Which, to be honest, really was the main reason why I was so curious to see this one. What can I say? It’s brilliant, moving, comes and goes at just the right times in the mix (in between the various 1950s song standards that litter the soundscape) and heightens the emotions beautifully. It is rich and vibrant and I’m pretty sure that as a standalone experience it will be truly wonderful... I know this because I was toe tapping practically the whole way through the movie like I was watching some kind of rock video. However, it has to be said... it’s also a complete copy of the compositional style of composer Philip Glass. I don’t mean just the minimalistic, short cells repeating to bind a slower melody hiding in a faster rhythm approach that Glass uses either... I mean the orchestration of it too. It’s absolutely pseudo-Glass from a specific period which dates it, to my mind, as having come from any or all of his theatre or opera works from the early to late 1980s, in tone. I don’t mean this as a slur to Burwell, who I have admired as a composer ever since I heard and then bought his score for Psycho III on vinyl all those decades ago... I’m sure this is a result of either a strong voice from the director or a case of the temp track taking over at the 11th hour and finalising the style. However, I’m not alone (it turns out) in recognising the fact that this score sounds like it was written by Glass and it does make me wonder just what went on during the post-production of this movie.

That’s okay by me though. I absolutely love the music of Philip Glass so there are no complaints from me here. A friend of mine has told me he’s getting me the score for Christmas and I am really looking forward to picking a few tracks out to play on Christmas morning, time permitting. A truly great piece of work, whether Burwell owes a debt to Glass or not, and absolutely supportive of the images while enhancing and elevating the tone of the emotions. It’s truly amazing stuff and that’s really all I’m going to say about this picture now. Carol is an absolute knock out of a movie and if you call yourself a film buff, a cinephile or, like me, just a plain old cinema goer, then you owe it to yourself not to let this one pass you by. An absolute treat of a movie by a director I’m really going to have to look out for more in the future. Just marvellous.