Ardor or obsession?

Filmbrain has a question primarily for his female readers, but everybody is welcome to respond. Imagine this scenario -- it's Christmas eve, and you are at home wrapping presents with your husband of nearly ten years while your daughter, aged 8, is in the other room sleeping. The doorbell rings. It's one of your husband's female students, inquiring why he didn't turn up at a party that night. She's extremely drunk, and within moments is throwing herself all over your husband, begging to spend one final night with him before she moves away. You break down, realizing that your husband has been having an affair. Your illusions about marriage, raising a child, and growing old together have just been shattered. You run to the bedroom, but the young student follows. Locking the door behind her, she spells out all the gory details of the affair, which included an abortion. Desperate, she grabs for something and smashes your head with a blunt object. You fall to the floor, unconscious and bleeding from the skull. Six months go by. You are now living in a remote village, still with your husband and daughter. You suffer from almost constant headaches, and are addicted to painkillers and anti-depressants. Most of your day is spent in bed, or driving around the village in a daze. Your relationship with your husband is strained to say the least. You often cry, still trying to make sense of the whole affair, and questioning why you are still with him. You don't even enjoy sleeping next to him in the same bed. When you confront him on these issues, he is compassionate and understanding, but rapidly losing patience with repeatedly having the same discussion. He feels that sacrificing his career to move with you to the countryside is penance enough for his transgression. One day, your car runs out of gas on a road just outside the village. A shiny black SUV pulls up behind you, driven by an extremely good looking, but overtly confident man. Coming to your aid (and flirting with you in the process), you learn that he is a doctor in the village. He is married, but his wife lives in the city, visiting only a few times a month. Some days later, you visit the doctor in a panic as you have run out of pills. He is convinced your headaches could be cured by other means -- getting out more, walking, living, etc. He proposes a game for the summer -- that you and he start an intense sexual relationship, with the loser being the first one that says "I love you". You ask him if he has played this before. He has. You ask about his wife. She doesn't mind, as long as she doesn't see it. Given what you've been through, and considering that it's only been six months since your husband's young mistress showed up at your door, would you accept his offer and play the game? Would you go and do the same thing your husband did as some sort of eye-for-an-eye revenge? This is exactly the choice that Mi-heun is presented with (and accepts) in Byun Young-joo's Ardor. Filmbrain has mixed feelings about the film, and honestly doesn't know what to think. That Ardor was directed by a woman (of which there are sadly too few in Korean cinema) only adds to his confusion. Korean cinema, much like Korean society, is often accepting and forgiving of males who cheat on their spouses, and Byun's attempt to confront the issue is wonderful in theory, yet her execution leaves much to be desired. Perhaps Mi-heun feels trapped in her new life in the country, where the eyes of literally everybody are upon her. Having an affair right under their noses is then both an act of rebellion, as well as an act of revenge. But is it truly a form of empowerment? Is agreeing to a sexual relationship with a man who is both married and cheating on Mi-heun at the same time a step forward in the reduction of double standards? Is not the offer of sex without any ties, emotion, or commitment the epitome of male fantasy? Mi-heun is a very interesting (and strong) character, and her experience in the opening ten minutes is an excellent setup for a great story. As disgusted as she is with her husband's actions, she still turns to a man who is blatant about his non-acceptance of morality or fidelity -- yet we're never really sure what drives her to that point. Why does Byun feel the need to create the doctor (In-gyu) as perfect gigolo -- handsome, wealthy, sensitive and (naturally) a selfless lover as well? With this, the film jumps from powerful drama to an Adrian Lyne (Unfaithful) vehicle, and as a result the film turns into a soft-core potboiler. That In-gyu and Mi-heun fall in love comes as no surprise, but there's nothing about their relationship to make it seem credible. At the very least, Filmbrain imagined that the film would end with Mi-heun making a difficult choice, and as a result would become a stronger, more confident woman. Instead, Byun throws in a deus ex machina that further drags the film down into "horrible third act" country. Byun Young-joo is better known as a documentary filmmaker, and this is her first feature. Her most famous film is a powerful documentary about Korean "comfort women" during WWII (The Murmuring), which further confuses Filmbrain when thinking about Ardor. Why does this film, made by a feminist director, come across as just the opposite? Part of the problem lies with her depiction of In-gyu. Is he meant to be held in contempt? Are we to view him as the living embodiment of the worst qualities a man can possess? One would never guess that by watching the film, where he is continually shown as the ideal dream man and object of lust. Is Mi-heun's tit-for-tat affair meant to be an uplifting, positive message? Maybe Filmbrain is at fault, and he simply took it too seriously. What if Ardor is meant to be nothing more than a soft-core film for women? Viewed at that level, it's not such a bad film. Beautiful landscapes, with beautiful people, having beautiful sex. However, if it's held up against films with a similar theme (A Good Lawyer's Wife, An Affair, Happy End) then it comes off as terribly lacking. Another possibility, of course, is that there is a cultural element to the film that escaped Filmbrain's grasp. Filmbrain would love to hear from anybody who has seen the film to find out if his reading of it is totally off base (which it very well might be). Feel free to comment here or get in touch via email.

Comments

[Marleigh]

I would guess that Mi-heun's actions were meant to be therapeutic rather than vengeful. Adultery is usually the result of boredom according to men—the ten year marriage got stale—which literally attacked Mi-heun and caused her physical symptoms. As a result she is experiencing her own prison of boredom and discomfort, confronted by her own blindness and her husband's blank sympathy, and so turns down the same path her husband chose. In that sense it would seem to be vaguely feminist—that she is choosing the "male" solution—but in my opinion one of the greatest failings of feminism that it compares men and women tit for tat (no pun intended).

What I don't understand, though, is why she stayed with a man who managed to endanger her life with his unfaithfulness. As though it wasn't bad enough that he had to sleep with someone else, the jackass had to pick a lunatic! That would really piss me off.

[FIlmbrain]

Great observation Marleigh. In Kyung Hyun-kim's book The Remasculization of Korean Cinema he argues that point exactly -- that in today's Koran cinema (as in life) women are now turning to affairs out of anomie and boredom.

I just wish I could figure out why In-gyu is depicted as he is, and why she has him be able to get what every man wants -- great sex w/no commitment.

[cynthia]

it almost sounds to me like the filmmaker may be questioning the stereotypical female focus on commitment and marriage. the doctor may be getting 'every man's fantasy' but the female seems to be enjoying it too, so perhaps the filmmaker is saying women's stereotypical ideas of pleasure should change, that they create a woman's prison of her own making. but i haven't seen the film so i could be way off base.

[Filmbrain]

That's a really great point Cynthia. I wish there was some way to get the film to you and Marleigh -- both of you seemed to have grasped it better than I have.

[Marleigh]

Is that your ultimate fantasy, Filmbrain? I think you're selling men short by claiming that the thing they want most is sex with no commitment. If you are right, though, perhaps that is exactly the sort of empowerment Mi-heun seeks; she obviously wasn't attractive enough for her husband, so perhaps she relishes being that fantasy for someone else.

On top of that, fantasies usually exist as an avenue to access things we can't have in real life—big houses, attractive lovers, a great career—so wouldn't it follow that sex with no strings attached would be Mi-heun's fantasy? Especially considering that she has already been ruined by her husband's no-strings relationship gone awry, wouldn't it make sense that she try to understand that experience on her own terms, and to make it work out for her as it didn't the first time?

[FIlmbrain]

No, no, no -- that's not my fantasy. Nor do I mean to make such a sweeping generalization -- more like an observation. Many single men (and even some that are not single) would love the chance for great sex with zero commitment, nothing emotional, etc.

I just wish I could buy that sex with no strings was her fantasy. Given what she so recently went through with her husband, her actions reek more of revenge than of need. Feeling so alone in this new environment, sharing her bed with a man she no longer trusts (and perhaps no longer loves) one would think that she'd be seeking something emotional over physical.

But your last sentence makes a lot of sense -- perhaps she was attempting to understand the experience first hand. I still don't buy her undying devotion toward In-gyu -- especially after she catches him with a much younger woman.

I'm in the process of watching every Korean "wife commits adultery" movie I can find. Saw one tonight that is far better, though it too is not without fault. (Happy End -- review should be up in a few days.)

[Marleigh]

So, as you said, she is sharing her bed with a man she doesn't love nor desire. If she's already sleeping with someone she despises, why not at least go out and sleep with a good looking man you despise? Logically, the attack would have been traumatic; such a huge event could feasibly cut off any romantic thoughts she had about sex.

In that case, at least in the course of the story, she is now taking the role of a man (in terms of her gender role). Correct me if I'm wrong, but when she takes on a lover—in a no-strings, male sort of way—her physical problems cease, right? So when she begins to deconstruct the role she has been playing, it releases her from the residual physical pain of her past (feminine) restrictions.

I don't even know if that made sense. I'll just have to see the movie and then we can debate.

[oreo]

Maybe the director was trying to put in sarcasm to the issue of men wanting sex with zero commitment. And of, women who easily agrees to it. Anyway, i haven't seen the movie too... so my opinion is pretty far-fetched.

[Amit]

Have read a few reviews on the blog\website, I like the fact that some asian movies are covered. Sadly, I end up knowing more about the movies then I want incase I decide to see them.

Amit

[Filmbrain]

Amit -- point well taken. However, I do tend to warn people when major plot points are about to be revealed.

[nkw88]

college educated female homemaker's fantasy.

I junst found 'isolation' in this film
Though her husband tried to recover their
relationship. their rural life just worsens
her isolation. Though she found some patriarchal
repression in the rural area, she did not do
any successful resistance to the order.
She did not ally with rural (poor educated)
women but just wandered around by car and met
In-gyu, her worthy partner - "Medical Doctor!"
She just found a temporary escape of having
sex game with In-gyu.

[nkw88]

The death of In-gyu means that the sex game
is not fundanmental solution. One suggestion is
'independence' which is implied in the last scene.
She fell in amnesia and began her new life as a
insurance planner. In the last scene, she
took a family photo - one person family: not
patriarchal nuclear family.
the whole story of the film is the process
of the destruction of male-centered and female
dependent family system and the reconstruction
of female-independent family.
Marin Goris's Antonial's Line is comparable.

[DinkaMailer]

My take on the story was the following (as far-fetched as it is):

The wife's (Mi-Heun) life had turned completely upside-down. No matter how
hard her husband tries, she is always reminded to what happened on that
Christmas. By the time they arrive at the village her headaches are by no
means because of her head-injury. I felt it was rather a battle in her that
she wanted to calm with painkillers and anti-depressants. Of course not
admitting that she can't go on living like the way she did made her symptoms
stay, thus she became a medicine-addict.
It seemed to me that she tried to "give it another try", maybe for her
daughter's sake or to act as the community requires. Maybe she was afraid
of making changes.
Wounded, but not changing anything she's rather embracing pain to dull its
effects and she becomes sensitive at sensing it in other people. She might
even be attracted to it. This might be why she starts making friends with
the beaten woman and tells her daughter to respect her.
Maybe when in In-Gyu (the doctor) offers her the game she doesn't really
start playing because she is bored, but rather because she has too much
time to think and remember. She asks "Who would play such a game? Bored
women?... Ruined women?" But In-Gyu misses the point.
She soon senses that In-Gyu is carrying many scars and feels she's found
someone who can understand her pain without knowing why she acts the way
she does. This is why she trusts him enough to jump "head-first into the
dark river". Before they do anything she asks him:
- "Each time you played, have you always won?"
- "There are no winners in this game... just a loser."
- "Have you ever lost?"
- "Only once... to the woman who first proposed it to me..."
No, this is no game. Not even at the beginning. Mi-Heun never treats it
like one. Even when she is joking with it she is doing it to shake In-Gyu
up a little. This game they play is not for fun. They are searching for
something they no longer believe in. They only disguise it as a game.
"Why can't there be love?" she asks once.
By the time they started their "relationship" it was obvious that they would
both lose. Constant change has found its match in passive stillness. They
both know what they do is morally wrong, but it's emotionally right. Their
times together are not fantastic, because they are both skilled lovers, but
rather bacause the want to redeem each other and themselves.
Mi-Heun knows time won't heal her wounds and she would either die from
her tranquillizers or her depression that chews her up from the inside.
In-Gyu knows he can't chase after women forever. He knows he is empty
with his "no strings attached" philosophy, becasue he's not doing it from
conviction, but from the fear of getting hurt again.
When these two people's worlds collide, they don't play, becuase they want
to, they play bacause they have no other choice.

(Sorry if it makes no sense... I wrote it in one sitting, just as it came.
I hope I didn't bore anyone to death with it...)

[DinkaMailer]

...Oh, and as for the 'Ardor or Obsession?' question:
Isn't love itself an obsession?

[Filmbrain]

Dinka --

Thanks for taking the time to post that. It's an interesting theory. It's been over two years since I saw the film, and I've forgotten more about it than I remember.

The handling of the material is what I objected to more than the subject itself. Love can be obsession, but ardor is more about passion. The passion (as presented in the film) was more of the 'fatal attraction' kind than a story of genuine passion. It's a thin line, I guess, between ardor and obsession.

[DinkaMailer]

Hmmm... First of all, thanks for explaining the proper meaning of 'ardor'.
As you might've already nocticed English is not my native language, so I'm
not too good at sensing the difference between similar words.

As for the 'fatal attraction': I don't think that this is the case. I believe
that they did the right thing at the wrong time and it wasn't really their
relationship that ruined their life. (F.e., Mi-Heun's was already ruined.)
I think this "worng time" dominates the whole film. When we see the family
photo on Mi-Heun's desk their family is already in ruins. When Mi-Heun
is in panic that she has no photo of her daughter she's already lost her,
just like in the last scene when she was taking the photo of herself when
In-Gyu was already gone.
It's like a time-shift where they always do things too late...