The Handmaiden | Little White Lies

The Hand­maid­en

11 Apr 2017 / Released: 14 Apr 2017

Words by Abbey Bender

Directed by Park Chan-wook

Starring Jin-woong Jo, Jung-woo Ha, and Min-hee Kim

Two women in a lavishly furnished room, one lying on a couch and the other kneeling beside her.
Two women in a lavishly furnished room, one lying on a couch and the other kneeling beside her.
4

Anticipation.

An erotic thriller from a noted cinematic provocateur.

4

Enjoyment.

The layers of the satisfying con artist plot keep us on our toes, and the acts are well structured and, yes, punctuated by eroticism.

4

In Retrospect.

A genuinely fun blend of sumptuous visuals and a perverse sense of humour.

Park Chan-wook’s sump­tu­ous erot­ic thriller is among his bold­est works to date.

The Hand­maid­en is the kind of film where stylised, sump­tu­ous details are para­mount to its suc­cess. Park Chan-wook’s thriller, is loose­ly adapt­ed from the 2002 nov­el Fin­ger­smith’ by Sarah Waters and set in 1930s Japan­ese-occu­pied Korea.

It con­cerns the increas­ing­ly provoca­tive and twist­ing rela­tion­ship between Lady Hideko (Kim Min-hee), an heiress kept sequestered in a state­ly home by her per­vy uncle, and Sook-hee (Kim Tae-ri), a crafty pick­pock­et assum­ing the role of the Lady’s hand­maid­en. The film deliv­ers all the plea­sures asso­ci­at­ed with the con movie genre: the lay­ers of dou­ble cross­es (which devel­op into triple and maybe even quadru­ple cross­es) keep us hooked and slight­ly dis­trust­ing of all the char­ac­ters, espe­cial­ly the wily men.

Lady Hideko’s Uncle Kouzu­ki (Jo Jin-woong) and Count Fuji­wara (Ha Jung-woo), Sook-hee’s ini­tial part­ner in crime, are revealed to be essen­tial­ly impo­tent. Much has been made of the long, graph­ic sex scenes between the hand­maid­en and her mis­tress, but Park cre­ates a com­pelling erot­ic atmos­phere even out­side of such out­ré́ moments. The film fetishis­es acces­sories: Lady Hideko has draw­ers filled with del­i­cate silken gloves and her corset, lined with tiny but­tons, is made to look as invit­ing­ly intri­cate as the nar­ra­tive itself.

With its near two-and-a-half hour run­time and those les­bian sex sequences, the film could fair­ly be described as self-indul­gent, but every new out­ra­geous act, every shot that pans over silks or fur­ni­ture or naked bod­ies, feels like a wry wink.

Two Asian women, one in a dark kimono, the other in a green off-the-shoulder dress, sitting together.

The sex scenes, with their full frontal nudi­ty and the line It’s so cute!” in ref­er­ence to the female anato­my, are inten­tion­al­ly over­ripe and become inte­gral to the struc­ture in ways too devi­ous to spoil. While it’s impos­si­ble to remove a les­bian sex scene direct­ed by a man from the much-dis­cussed spec­tre of the male gaze, Park earns favour with his audi­ence by reveal­ing the two women to be the crafti­est char­ac­ters in the film.

Some of the dis­cus­sion around The Hand­maid­en has placed it with­in the grand 1980s-’90s tra­di­tion of the erot­ic thriller, and while many of those ele­ments can be found (with the les­bian con artist theme, there are shades of the Wachowskis’ aus­pi­cious 1996 debut, Bound) they are com­pli­cat­ed by the his­tor­i­cal setting.

The film doesn’t quite have the noir influ­ence of so many erot­ic thrillers before it, but it does make effec­tive use of a con­fused nation­al iden­ti­ty, blend­ing Kore­an and Japan­ese lan­guage and visu­al ele­ments with a moody blue-grey palette.

Many of the scenes in The Hand­maid­en go on just a bit longer than you might expect. While this ten­den­cy can occa­sion­al­ly become cum­ber­some it also becomes Park’s test of his audi­ence. In an ear­ly scene, Sook-he bathes Lady Hideko and files her tooth when she begins to com­plain of an ache. The tooth-fil­ing seems to take a long time, but it builds a per­verse ten­sion. We may not need this much time spent on ama­teur den­tistry, but we do need to see how sex­u­al pow­er can man­i­fest itself in so many weird ways.

In The Hand­maid­en, sex itself is a con, lur­ing us into the nar­ra­tive and then com­pli­cat­ing it more than we might expect.

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