Art Echoes Life in Chan-wook’s “Decision to Leave” Film
What would you do for love?
Following the increased popularity of South Korean dramas, such as Parasite (2019) and Squid Game (2021), director Park Chan-wook’s Decision to Leave brings the audience into a world of murder, mystery, and forbidden romance. Park Chan-wook, along with Jeong Seo-Gyeong and Seo-kyeong Jeong are the film’s screenwriters.
Park Chan-wook won the award for Best Director for the film at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival.
After premiering in South Korea on June 29, 2022, Decision to Leave debuted in American theatres on October 14. To date, it has grossed over $13 million at the box office. The film runs for 138 minutes and with Korean and Chinese audio and English subtitles.
Decision to Leave follows the tumultuous story of Park Hae-il’s character, Detective Hae-jun, and his deadly love affair with Seo-Rae, who is dutifully played by Tang Wei. Amidst the chaos of city crime, the pair become entangled after the death of Seo-rae’s abusive husband Ki Do Soo.
An investigation ensues, which leads Hae-jun to pursue the widow as a suspect and eventually, as the object of a love affair.
It is revealed that Seo-rae, who is of Chinese origin, fled to South Korea with the help of her now deceased husband.
Seo-rae’s escape from her homeland becomes a topic of scrutiny for the detective, who notices everything about the woman—from her deep sympathy towards the elderly to her unusually calloused hands. Yet, his intrigue can’t be helped.
In their initial interactions, there is a palpable romantic tension between the two, which marks the beginning of the detective’s decline into questionable moral and ethical decisions for her sake. Most notably, he makes a sacrificial decision to protect her from criminal punishment, leaving him “shattered”.
To say that there is a lot going on in this movie is an understatement. The convoluted plot is packed into a meagre two hours, and presents some faults.
Decision to Leave is equally a romance film as it is a murder-mystery, so it does not shy away from some of the grotesque images of death that often juxtapose the tender moments between the forbidden lovers.
The film depicts close-up shots of dead bodies and brutal acts of violence, while also showing longing glances and intimate, low-lit scenes between Hae-jun and Seo-rae. The quick pacing, interesting camera angles and intricate editing style bring a ton of dimension to Chan-wook’s work, but the viewer can easily fall behind on the plot. It is definitely a film that one should watch twice to fully grasp.
In some shots, Hae-jun is seen in the same space as Seo-rae, but this is only to give the audience a view of the detective’s mind. There are also some shots that appear to take place from behind the eyes of a character, which adds a layer of individual perspective.
These effects are confusing at times—it can be difficult to tell the true sequence of the scenes. At best, these effects create valuable dimension in the film.
Decision to Leave addresses topics of immigration, romantic relationships, ethics, and morality through the lives of its complex characters.
Similar to real life, it illustrates the nuance of human beings—that the line between villain and victim isn’t always clearly defined. In the case of Seo-rae, she is evidently at an intersection—a woman of misfortune and circumstance who finds a silver lining in a love doomed to fail.
She admits that she longs for an ideal, yet unattainable man such as Hae-jun, while she settles for less favourable men, such as her previous husbands.
In telling this story, Chan-wook succeeds in creating a woman in the grey. It’s difficult to label Seo-rae a villain when she committed herself to righting her wrongs—to restoring the detective’s integrity and leaving his life as quickly as she came.
The film’s ending is implied, but also left up to the audience’s interpretation. As the complicated romance concludes, there remains a mystery around Seo-rae and her lawless love.
It is an ending that, though chilling, submits both Hae-jun and the audience to Seo-rae’s demand:
“Think solely of me.”
