The Handmaiden [DVD]

Good

This is a beautiful, beguiling film in three parts.In Part One, a Korean con-artist poses as a Japanese count, in the days when Korea was under Japanese colonial rule. He earns the trust of another Korean would-be Japanese, the savagely cruel and twisted Kouzuki who has made his money selling rare, obscene books. Kouzuki's wife has already committed suicide (or been murdered) and he has raised his niece, beautiful , ethereal Hideko, to give erotic readings of the books to potential buyers.The Korean con-artist, a fake count making fake books, plans to seduce the heiress and commit her to an asylum. He takes young Sookhee to be her handmaiden, and soon the two women begin to be attracted to each other.In Part Two we see Hideko as a child, how she is never allowed to leave the grounds of the estate, and we see how the con man met the uncle and niece, and the plans hatched between them.Plots develop within plots, nothing is quite what it seems, and then we see everything again, astonishingly, from a different and far more satisfying viewpoint. There is a resolution, and I was only left wishing that the uncle had met a far more unpleasant end.Astonishing too is the way the film is made – like a painting, a dance, a still life – tableaux brought to life – the two stunningly lovely women kneeling, opening doors, kneeling and opening doors again to escape, running and laughing. Three people looking at each other, looking at a bag of money, then at each other again. The question of who can trust who hanging in the air.The clothes, hair, jewellery and internal sets are incredible – the octopus scene is jaw-dropping.Yes, there is nudity, but this is absolutely not pornography. The most erotic scenes involve a rough tooth and the readings – performed fully clothed. There is humour, the plot is gripping (I watched it twice in two days because the first time the subtitles didn’t work, and yet I had grasped almost all of it, except the significance of the Korean housekeeper, a Mrs Danvers-type figure).The subtitles are white for Korean being spoken, yellow for Japanese.I would describe it as mesmerising, but as Hideko said, that’s what a man says when he wants to touch a woman’s chest.

This flim has already been written by Sarah Waters - Fingersmith (BBC 2) and this flim remake with erotic psychological thriller in Asian culture, Korean/Japanese in 1930's.. I did thought Sarah Waters' stories (through her books) are pretty good, inspire, interesting, awareness of different sexualities and gender identities, sexuality, physchological, mostly are based on lesbian, this has been going since 1st century of BCE.. Overall, I thought this flim was quite absorbing and powerful flim... I did not understand at first but then I look up further through Sarah Water's stories and this is how I understood. The connection. I am aware that 'Shunga' is similar as 'Kama Sutra' and 'The Joy of Sex'... What made me think twice of lesbian sex is popular ? Is it about feeling ? Is it about emotion ? The rise and fall of simulation ? Is this part of the society "crime" ?

What a surprise to come across such an amazing film by accident! Normally I would trawl through all the blockbuster Hollywood releases, which generally leave me feeling a bit bored and that I had seen similar plot lines hundreds of times. Not with The Handmaiden!Firstly, I pulled a face at having to read subtitles throughout this Korean film, but after the first ten minutes it barely registered and realised it would have been impossible to do it any other way and still maintain the look and feel of the place and time it was set. The story itself was fantastic - set in 3 parts which told a different version/side to the same events, ultimately changin your views on what you had previously watched. This was a very clever and entertaining aspect to this film. The cinematography, setting, layout are stunning and perfectly capture that moment in time.As all previous reviews have commented on the erotic scenes in this film, I should follow suit. As I mentioned earlier, I really had no idea what to expect from this film and had not read previous reviews, so I admit the level of eroticism was unexpected. That said, I felt that these scenes were actually filmed very artistically and actually quite beautiful if you view them in context - two people in love with each other. One or two reviews complained about the sex scenes and violence (?), but my view is that films are marked as an 18 for a reason and if you are offended by either then this is your cue to research the content before viewing.An enexpected gem of a film, different from the usual dross we are drip fed. Great Korean cast and inspired director. Five Stars.

THE HANDMAIDEN is a Korean adaptation of the novel, "Fingersmith" by Sarah Waters. Some years ago, after having read the novel, I watched a BBC dramatization of the book, and enjoyed that version. Last year, I became aware of this adaptation, whilst visiting Cheltenham Literature festival; Waters was there herself, and commented upon it. This piqued my interest, as I was intrigued to see how another culture may take such a piece of fiction, and adapt it.Overall, I have to say that this is a very successful adaptation. It is certainly beautiful to look at - the costumes, staging, and direction are all quite something. In many ways, this is a sumptuous film. But beneath all of the beauty, there is something very unsettling, disturbing even. The film is divided into three parts, with each part giving you more information and detail, enabling you to discover slowly what is really taking place within this complex plot.This is definitely an interesting film. Personally, I didn't find the sex scenes to be overly explicit: perhaps because I have read the book and seen a previous dramatization, I knew what to expect, and the scenes fit the rating which is 18. There is violence too, which I don't think was mentioned on the back of DVD box, so in some ways, this came as more of a surprise to me.

Not grea

Super film donc acheter en Anglais et Français

“Handmaiden” (L’Ancella) si presenta come un trittico che, attraverso rivelazioni successive, ci conduce con ironia e trasporto, stordendoci con immagini di annichilente fascino figurativo, alla naturalezza di una realtà inattesa. La storia si ispira alla complessa trama neovittoriana del romanzo di Sarah Waters “Fingersmith” (di cui la BBC ha realizzato anche un bell’adattamento televisivo), ma immediatamente la trascende, facendola germinare entro la stilizzazione elegante dell’arte giapponese, in cui ombre e colori accesi – spesso legati alle stagioni, agli alberi, alla pioggia, alle nuvole –, linee essenziali, geometriche e interni elaborati si confrontano, riflettendosi in una sorta di ininterrotta, seduttiva dicotomia. L’occhio di Park Chan-wook segue questa vicenda di inganni, sentimenti, disperazione e avidità con movimenti lenti, insinuando sempre nelle sequenze un senso diverso che tuttavia sfugge alla presa. Indugia nelle stanze della villa del sadico bibliofilo Kozuki dalla lingua nera d’inchiostro, e nel parco dove un grande ciliegio dai fiori bianchi, ondeggianti nel vento, si dice abbia assorbito l’anima della moglie di questo laido individuo, impiccatasi a un ramo per orrore nei confronti della vita cui il marito la costringeva.La luce non è gradita nella dimora di Kozuki, poiché potrebbe danneggiare i libri; nasce quindi dalle emozioni dei protagonisti, grazie alla fotografia di Chung Chung-hoon, in grado di dare vita a ogni dettaglio, ogni sguardo dissimulato o timido tocco. In quest’opera qualsiasi elemento e personaggio assume una natura duplice, dalla villa dotata di un’ala giapponese e una arredata all’occidentale alle due lingue parlate dai protagonisti (coreano e giapponese). Le frasi chiave rimbalzano come riflessi sull’acqua da una sezione all’altra, talvolta cambiando senso talvolta acquisendone uno ulteriore. I morti non muoiono mai per davvero, ma rimangono presenti e vagano senza pace nella mente turbata dei superstiti, sovrapponendosi alla loro forma interiore.Quella che sembra all’inizio la lineare traccia narrativa, ossia il complotto che due truffatori – la giovane e graziosa Sook-hee e il vanitoso “Conte” Fujiwara – ordiscono ai danni di Lady Hideko, ricchissima nipote di Kozuki e sua promessa sposa, si rovescia progressivamente svelando un lato oscuro speculare e opposto, che a sua volta viene stravolto dall’irrompere della passione amorosa.Hideko, nipote della moglie defunta di Kozuki e tormentata dal suicidio della zia, ha subìto fin da bambina dal bibliofilo malato di mente, o semplicemente malvagio e ossessionato, un’educazione degna del Marchese De Sade, fra percosse, limitazioni, moniti, terribili storie di orchi nascosti negli angoli della camera e pronti a soffocare la bimba con il loro corpo (narrate dalla sinistra governante Sasaki, prima moglie ripudiata di Kozuki), minacce di indescrivibili punizioni, lezioni di lettura su argomenti inadatti alla sua età. Tutto questo allo scopo di prepararla a sostituire la zia nelle “sedute di lettura” che periodicamente l’uomo organizza per intrattenere gli amici. Nella biblioteca in cui domina il nitore di un giardino zen, Hideko indossando un costume tradizionale, legge composta i rari testi pornografici collezionati dallo zio (che mira a impalmarla proprio per poter alimentare all’infinito la sua mania, grazie al patrimonio della ragazza, acquisendone di nuovi). Con pause e tonalità di perfetta eleganza riesce far vibrare come una musica pagine che di per sé sarebbero solo squallide.Chiusa in un assoluto riserbo, staccata dal corpo e dalle pulsioni, fredda come un uccello d’acqua, Hideko aspira alla libertà. E Fujiwara racconta a Sook-hee il piano escogitato per sedurla, sposarla e, una volta arrivati in Giappone, farla dichiarare pazza e internarla in manicomio. Il ruolo di Sook-hee è quello di introdursi nella casa come ancella di Hideko e manipolarne la psiche per indurla a sposare Fujiwara. Questo ci viene fatto credere nella prima parte, mentre nella seconda si alzano i veli della storia e veniamo a sapere che l’accordo è fra Fujiwara e la stessa Hideko: contrarre un matrimonio “bianco” e far internare Sook-hee con l’identità di Hideko, in modo che Kozuki non abbia più motivo di cercarli.Risuona anche l’eco di Rashomon nel raffinato montaggio di scene mostrate in momenti diversi da un’altra angolazione. E del Bergman di Fanny e Alexander nelle fiabe spaventose raccontate da Sasaki con intenti di vendetta e riscatto.Il meccanismo assemblato da Fujiwara sembra perfetto, eppure succede qualcosa che, sottotraccia, a poco a poco, ne inceppa il movimento. Qualcosa di eversivo. Nella confidenza quotidiana dei corpi e dello spirito, nei gesti di cura ripetuti ogni giorno dall’ancella – il bagno profumato che sprigiona lieve vapore di essenze e di pelle diafana, luminosa, nel vestire e nello spogliare la Signorina dalla bellezza quasi irreale – germina in entrambe la passione inducendo Hideko alla reciprocità, a cercare nell’altra fanciulla il doppio, il rifugio, la famiglia mai avuta e, durante una cerimonia in cui le ragazze sciolgono a vicenda, piano piano, i lacci dei corsetti ricamati – mostrati quasi al microscopio nel loro sinuoso abbandonarsi alle dita – l’amante.Si procede per slittamenti progressivi, che né ragione né volontà possono arrestare. Una caramella il cui succo passa da una bocca all’altra, diventando da amaro aspro, da aspro dolce, da dolce salato, salmastro. Poi i corpi cercano con delicatezza, ed ebbrezza elegante, i molti modi per unirsi, per cercare il piacere stupefatto, dissetato. Compongono forme perlacee simmetriche abbaglianti, ricadono in abbracci innamorati. Il Tempio di Giada dischiude i suoi petali. Le mani si uniscono tracciando la linea orizzontale di una corda, tesa fra le due ragazze sospese sulla corrente dell’eros, metafora di un’unione solidale salvifica.Arriveranno presto a confidarsi i piani contrapposti, quello fittizio e quello reale, in cui Fujiwara le aveva imprigionate, per costruirne un terzo che avrà esito felice. Le due fanciulle riusciranno a espatriare – dopo aver distrutto i libri pornografici di Kozuki -, fuggendo verso un’esistenza libera e (si presume e si auspica) felice, mentre Fujiwara, dopo essere stato seviziato e mutilato da Kozuki nel sotterraneo della villa, avvelenerà entrambi con il fumo freddo e blu di una sigaretta al mercurio.

R. Code B

South Korea has produced some of the world's most creative and exciting works of cinema since the century began, and Park Chan-wook (of "Oldboy" and "Thirst" fame) is one of its most acclaimed filmmakers. Still, knowing that, nothing prepared me for "The Handmaiden", unquestionably Park's masterpiece to date, and even perhaps the finest film to ever come out of that country.Born and raised in Seoul, Park was determined to be an art critic until his first viewing of Alfred Hitchcock's "Vertigo" which dictated the rest of his life. In 2013, Park actually made a twisted, stylized loose remake of Hitchcock's "Shadow of a Doubt' (called "Stoker" with Nicole Kidman, his only English language film) but whereas that movie was somewhat inconsistent albeit visually lush, "The Handmaiden" is perfectly realized, the framing of every shot and the rhythm of its pacing fully controlled in structure and tone, and executed with such an exquisite sense of visual beauty in its production design, costumes and cinematography (as well as the aesthetic beauty of its cast) that virtually every frame of this film could be hung on the wall of an art museum.Adapted from Fingersmith, a Welsh novel by Sarah Waters, the film is set in the Japan-occupied South Korea of the 1930s as if its characters and setting had been lifted out of Henry James' Victorian England. Divided into a three-part structure, it tells of a handmaiden hired to a young Japanese heiress who lives a secluded life on a large Dickensian estate with her dominating Uncle -- but the intricate plot that develops has more twists than a Philadelphia pretzel, with scheming and swindling, double-crossings and betrayal, as well as explicit lesbian sex (and a small dose of shocking violence). What makes it all so engrossing is the three-part construct which allows its events to double back on themselves (a la Quentin Tarantino), keeping viewers constantly off balance as new twists become slowly revealed like layers falling off in the peeling of an onion. All of this is in the service of a high class, richly poetic work of cinematic art, one that is as intelligent and sophisticated as it is intense and erotic, a film displaying no less than the most gorgeous images of the year in cinema. Not to be missed.(One added note: I was lucky enough to view a special extended director's cut of this film in an art cinema which ran 167 minutes, adding 23 minutes to the theatrical 144-minute version. Although much of the additional footage was of totally explicit sexual activity, these scenes were shot with such taste and poetic beauty that it was never exploitative or offensive, to this viewer anyway. Both cuts are equally recommended -- the regular theatrical version more of a thriller; the longer one more of a romance.)

Ok