Park Chan-wook

STOKER

hallmarks: beautifully rendered visuals, overblown, operatic violence and labyrinthine mind games. Threading them together is one key message: the idea that there’s poison lurking in the roots of every family tree. So while Stoker, Park’s English-language gothic debut, might constitute a tonal departure from his previous work – it’s penned (bizarrely) by Prison Break’s Wentworth Miller – it’s still Park through-and-through. The titular Stoker family are rocked by tragedy when father Richard (Dermot Mulroney) is killed in mysterious circumstances.

South Korean vengeance maestro Park Chan-wook exploded onto the international scene with Oldboy), a cerebral revenge thriller which blended hyper-violence with mind-twisting revelations to phenomenal effect. His other films, including the Revenge Trilogy’s Sympathy for Mr Vengeance and Lady Vengeance ), and Thirst – an underworld twist on Émile Zola’s Thérèse Raquin – betray the same

Words ByAvalon Lyndon

Wrenched from the father she loves, daughter India (Mia Wasikowsa) finds herself alone with frosty mother Evie (Nicole Kidman) for the first time in years. India’s not like other girls. Despite her ultra-heightened senses, she has an autism-spectrum fear of being touched and takes more comfort in the crunch of an eggshell rolled across a tabletop than a bit of light chitchat over a glass of wine.

But the arrival of enigmatic, charismatic and super-creepy Uncle Charlie (Matthew Goode), who rolls up at her father’s funeral in a pair of beige slacks, looks set to snap her right out of it. As our three players – India, Evie and Uncle Charlie – take to the stage, the scene is set for a melt-ing pot of desires and impulses which promises to be far from family friendly. As with any Park Chan-wook

film, the emotions which bubble under the characters’ glassy surfaces find their release in cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung’s sumptuously overblown visual style. The colours are saturated, dramatically heightened and utterly arresting: deep blues, bright whites and forest greens dominate the screen. Surprisingly, however, it’s the sound design which will really take your breath away.

We hear every tiny pitter-patter of a spider’s legs as it craws insidiously up India’s skirt, and passing whispers coming from the next rooms whirl around the room like spirits. Every sound is augmented and amplified. It’s an effect that aims to settle you right into Mia’s head – a place that’s set to become dangerous to inhabit. There might be fewer hand-over-mouth moments of shock, but

Stoker is streaked with a sustained, creeping psychological horror that more than matches the sinister underbelly of Oldboy. Its sense of suspense and tension has drawn many parallels to Hitchcock, but there’s also a palpable streak of lust that could make the big man blush. Never is this more apparent that in the piano duet scene - two pair of hands leap across the keys, almost balletic, never

touching. It’s coursing with desire, and it makes tense viewing. Stoker is a film of passing glances, cold stares and lingering gazes; every flit of an eye is laden with meaning, suppressed desire or dangerous bloodlust. It’s the restraint the characters show in the face of these coursing emotions – first, lust, and later, horror – which makes Stoker so unnerving.

India, played to mind-blowing perfection by Mia Wasikowsa, oscillates between moments of utter blank-faced passivity and knife-glint moments of catharsis. There’s a storm brewing under that china-white exterior, and we’re waiting for the lightning to strike. Matthew Goode delivers a deliciously uncanny performance, so slick and glossy he seems far from human.

Stoker must be a feast for the senses, but it’s hardly food for the soul. It’s safe to say you won’t find anyone munching any live octopi here. Apart from a slightly disappointing ending, Stoker is an incredibly unsettling, hyper-taut 98 minutes of undeniably Chan-wook Park cinema. Whether it’s in a Seoul sushi restaurant or an American mansion, you still know who’s calling the shots.