Park Hae-il in Decision to Leave (CJ ENM/Moho Film)

Six years after his sumptuous and sensuous film The Handmaiden, director Park Chan-wook returns with an equally serpentine thriller, though quite different in tone and storytelling. Its punchy pace throws viewers into one plot thread after another—it’s up to viewers to catch up. Nothing is wasted or unnecessary. Tension arrives from the fast cuts, which fragments what would otherwise be a straightforward mystery into a riddle. However, the story line is much less convoluted than it at first appears.
 

For those who complain they don’t make crime dramas like they used to, they should rejoice in Park bringing back the femme fatale and placing her front and center. Seo-rae (Lust, Caution’s Tang Wei), a Chinese immigrant, becomes the prime suspect in the death of her older husband, a South Korean immigration officer; it doesn’t go unnoticed that her application for citizenship was expedited. Hubby fell to his death during a mountain-climbing excursion, bouncing three times off the cliff wall. The cops discover that the victim had imprinted his initials on his belongings, and branded them near his wife’s groin as well. The police examination reveals Seo-rae also bears multiple black-and-blue signs of abuse, and during her interrogation, she comes across as too composed, even laughing at one point. 

In keeping with the story’s lickety-split rhythm, it’s love at first sight for ace detective Hae-joon (The Host’s Park Hae-il) when he sees Seo-rae’s photo on the victim’s phone—and yes, she’s a looker. From then on, he is smitten and under her spell, not unlike Michael Douglas in Basic Instinct or any film noir sucker. The sad-eyed investigator is particularly vulnerable: he has a weekend marriage. He works in Busan, while his wife lives hours away. Additionally, he has insomnia. Yet the sexual attention here is restrained. This is a buttoned-down Park, though with a few eccentric touches—a persnickety softshell tortoise plays a role in the unraveling of the mystery. The movie could be rated PG-13. Meanwhile, Kim Ji-young’s varied and inventive cinematography reflects the plot twists and turns in the changes of scenery. Just as the tone shifts, the visual palette and framing go with the flow. 

In Cate Blanchett’s recent foray into the femme fatal genre, she practically purred as she plotted, lied, and seduced in Guillermo del Toro’s Nightmare Alley. Tang takes a different, softer approach. She underplays her role. Every move she makes regarding Hae-joon is done with sincerity and little guile, turning the crime drama into a genuine love story. Unlike Blanchett, Tang doesn’t play style. Her intentions are understated, if not enigmatic. When sparks fly between Hae-joon and Seo-rae, they simmer, but not blasting off like fireworks.

However, Hae-joon’s transition from a tough intelligent crime solver, the pride of Busan’s police force, to lovestruck puppy dog is fast and furious and isn’t always convincing—he breaks numerous protocols on Seo-rae’s behalf. It slightly undermines the film. Yet thanks to the dialog, the machinations of the plot, and the rat-a-tat rhythm, this flaw barely goes noticed. 

 
Decision to Leave was certainly the most entertaining and slick genre film at Cannes, and among the few in this year’s competition where a woman really held all the cards. 

Decision to Leave has been acquired in the United States by the distributor and streaming service MUBI.