Sometimes, you don’t know how much you’ve missed something until you encounter it again. As the American cinematic landscape continues to become saturated with sameness, bombastic CGI slugfests featuring spandex and capes or indies that feel more like political lectures than stories set to film, it’s becoming more and more difficult to find truly great films on a consistent basis. Fortunately, some masters of the art still exist and surface every few years to remind us why we love the medium. Director Park Chan-wook makes his return to the big screen with yet another masterwork to leave audiences on the edge of their seats.
We begin Decision to Leave at the bottom of a mountain’s peak as Busan, South Korea investigators scan the scene where a man has plummeted to his death. As Detective Hae-joon (Park Hei-il) looks into the case, he begins to suspect the dead man’s young Chinese wife Seo-rae (Wei Tang). She is cagey with a shadowy past and his partner suspects her involvement. But as he digs deeper, he soon finds himself entangled in desire and deception with the young widow.
Park Chan-wook has created a neo-noir in every sense of the word with this film, as its narrative structure is flush with flashbacks, voiceover sequences, and the familiar character archetypes of a seasoned but jaded detective and a mysterious femme fatale. The writer/director’s execution and melding of each of these aspects of what makes a good noir film combine to make a hearty serving of cinematic comfort food that feels warm and familiar, but is served to its audience in a fresh way that engenders intrigue and full investment. Viewers journey alongside Hae-jun as he investigates the question at the center of its first half, what happened to Seo-Rae’s husband and who is responsible, through cleverly shot and edited flashbacks at various areas of interests that feature Hae-jun’s image superimposed on the scene as the past plays and he works through what may have happened in his head. We are transported onto the location figuratively just as the detective is, creating immersion and a sense of investment in finding the answer and following along with the film. The slow burn of the investigation, cloudy sense of who Seo-Rae is and what her involvement could be, the psychological condition of Hae-jun and the interplay with he and Seo-Rae, makes Decision to Leave feel like a spiritual successor to Double Indemnity, Vertigo, The Big Sleep, and all the classic noirs of yesteryear.
Another lingering question raised in the film that lures the audience alongside it is the mysterious Seo-Rae and what her intentions are as she draws Hae-jun closer toward her. Tang Wei is magnificent as the femme fatale, giving the best performance within this archetype since Sharon Stone’s Catherine Tramell in 1992’s Basic Instinct. She plays the character perfectly, at once appearing to be misunderstood, thus perhaps innocent of her husband’s death, but also seeming to have something untrustworthy and manipulative about her personality bubbling just beneath the surface. The audience is just as unsure about her as the protagonist is which makes Seo-Rae an entrancing and fascinating watch, trickling down to the film itself. This duality solidifies the mystery behind the woman that lures Hae-jun down the rabbit hole and into a web of intrigue that furthers the plot and ultimately the film. The push and pull between Hae-jun and Seo-Rae throughout the first half until their relationship solidifies is creates the emotional investment present in this film to compliment the curiosity investment in the mystery surrounding the death at the center. The chemistry between Wei and Park Hei-il is indelible ensures that there is a human component to what makes Decision to Leave an intriguing watch and not just its mystery whodunit aspect. Viewers come to be just as pulled in by the relationship between the two and the impact that they have on each other’s lives.
Just what is drawing Hae-jun and Seo-Rae toward each other seems to be the what Decision to Leave is exploring thematically; obsession and its effect on the human mind and spirit. As Hae-jun investigates Seo-Rae’s potential involvement in her husband’s death, the dogged dedication that he has to his work as an investigator transfers over to Seo-Rae herself, at the expense of his own mental well-being and his personal life as his marriage to his wife begins to slip even further over the edge. Indeed, his obsession with his job and his burgeoning obsession with Seo-Rae are so closely linked as to be almost indistinguishable and perhaps that too is part of what Park Chan-wook is attempting to point out. The unhealthy attachment that goes hand in hand with obsession goes both ways in the film as Seo-Rae becomes unable to let go of Hae-jun, no matter how much time has passed. This all culminates in an explosive third act that displays how low obsession and the need to hold onto a person, no matter what it costs either party, can take us.
Decision to Leave doesn’t standout in this current cinematic landscape just because of how closely it tacks to the structure of the noir classics that came before it. What makes this film comfortably the best of the year so far is the amount of care that is so obviously present in how it was constructed. From the precise script that melds classic noir mystery and character archetypes with a meditation on obsession and how parasitic human relationships can be to the way shots are staged and filmed creatively to the performances from its actors. There is a maturity present in this film that feels like it respects the audience and the art form and sought to make something impactful and professional with complete care and competence. Tang Wei offers a supernova of a performance, joining the great femme fatales of the genre, joined by Park Hei-il who also performs magnificently alongside her, their chemistry and believability as entangled souls powering the film. Decision to Leave is another masterful entry into Park Chan-wook’s already legendary filmography, displaying his high command of the art of filmmaking and effortless ability to make compelling, high quality cinema. They don’t make them like this anymore, at least not in the West.
Image: Mubi
