Decision to Leave Review: Delightfully Deceitful

Another masterpiece from Park Chan-Wook proves the director as unimaginably innovative.

Decision to Leave is a mystery. In genre, yes, but more interestingly, the film itself is an enigma for the viewer to unpack. Each frame hides and reveals, every line of dialogue informs, and Park Chan-Wook makes sure to delightfully confuse it all as the plot continues through impressive molding of the medium itself. Deceit and obscurity define Park’s romantic mystery. Nothing is as it seems through the eyes of Hae-Joon, Seo-Rae, or even you, the viewer. The visuals and narrative intertwine seamlessly to make this bundled knot of a film unravel in a beautiful, ingenious fashion that mimics the fraying mind of our lead detective, one that loses his own grips on reality as much as the viewer loses control of the film. However, Chan-Wook’s maximalism is best enjoyed when immersed in the chaos, the mystery, the confusion that enlightens. In this labyrinth of contradictions, Chan-Wook displays a deft, confident control over the medium in his truly innovative visuals and carefully coiled narrative to toy with the viewer’s mind. Meaning, while you might appear lost in this masterclass showing of creativity and subversion, you will always have the decision to leave, but will undoubtedly choose to stay. 

Hae-Joon, an insomniac detective only able to visit his wife in Ipo once a week, shoots in a firing range with his comically inexperienced partner, Soo-Wan. However, this isn’t what the film communicates with its opening seconds. In a void of black we hear the guns firing, footsteps and dropping shells, anticipating the kinetic action Park is now synonymous with. When we finally encounter reality, the film establishes its deceitful nature, acting as an audio-visual thematic declaration and warning for the audience: This movie is about misdirection, and it will fool you. Acting as an early example of Chan-Wook’s complete understanding of and adherence to theme, the strings controlling the puppet that is film, this opening shot is an impressive opening despite how mundane it appears. Again, the meaning lies below the surface of the games at play.

The film then picks up in a way that may appear jarring. The viewer is thrust into an alluring world of crime and mystery. An overbearing investigation that permeates the district. Sleepless nights. A man dead at the foot of a mountain. Pushed? Hae-Joon and Soon-Wan plan to find out by questioning the victim's wife, Seo-Rae. From here the plot engages and entertains through an impossibly perfect, ever changing ripple of tones that concludes with heartbreak. At once, Chan-Wook’s mystery is also a romance, a comedy, a noir drama, and so much more. However, much like the increasing layers to the film’s mystery, Chan-Wook and screenwriting partner  Jeong Seo-kyeong manage to never overload the plot or viewer despite its ouroborus nature. Each clue turns into a laugh turns into a reveal, and with every multifaceted aspect brought to the surface comes a shift in tone that leaves the viewer hooked and dazzled. What only increases this dizzying and spectacular effect is the inventive ways in which reality and time mold around Chan-Wook’s desires. Moments of isolation are projected as intimacy when Hae-Joon imagines himself holding an ashtray for Seo-Rae’s nightly cigarette. Past events become present as Hae-Joon finds himself at the scene of a crime hours before the action occurs. What results is a film that seems to fall victim to genre cliches on plot synopsis alone. A detective falling for the suspect is not an original idea, but when placed in one of cinema’s most creative director’s, the end product is one that subverts, confuses and entertains at equal levels. Truly, there is something for everyone in Decision to Leave.

Especially the detail oriented viewers, those who treat films as an iSpy game of infinitely moving parts. In fact, I would say Decision to Leave requires at least two viewings to fully appreciate the level of minute particularities placed directly in front of the audience. A hitched breath means everything when Hae-Joon first meets Seo-Rae, a declaration of love held back by the detective due to the two’s positions. Hae-Joon is the detective, Seo-Rae is the suspect, and while the film is a mystery, this relationship is the one constant. As a result, everything revolves around their connection. An interrogation turns playful when Hae-Joon buys Seo-Rae a fancy sushi dinner mid-questioning, with the two cleaning as if they’ve been married for years. Shots of mountains or sea reflect the characters and their positions in relation to each other and the overarching mystery. Even the placement of a soy sauce bottle informs more than one might expect on initial viewing. Much of these details are expressed through narrative, such as Hae-Joon using eye drops in attempts to view crimes from an obscured, outside perspective. However, where Decision to Leave truly shines is in its innovative, jaw dropping visuals that left me equally stunned and impressed. Notice the consistent use of mirrors to reflect the distance between the characters. Keep track of the shifts in focus to highlight Hae-Joon and Seo-Rae’s compatibility. Even look at the waves and how they make shapes reminiscent of Seo-Rae’s face, reflecting how she is a woman of the sea and Hae-Joon a man of the mountains. Now, notice how I could not help but relate the visuals back to the themes of the film. Obscurity. Deceit. Connection. Distance. With the consistent subversion of cliche visuals and innovation on traditional techniques, it feels as though the film could be reduced to “style over substance.” But, if anything, that goes to show how impressive the cinematography is, and in turn, the film’s thematic development. Everything is intertwined, no matter how small a detail or how insane a camera trick, in a way that almost feels mechanical. No way this movie was not already in existence in its current state, it is simply too complete a package for a man to direct and two to write.

So how can one find complaints with this masterpiece? The answer lies in how one chooses to watch it. Initially, I found myself concerned with how the film failed to further criticize Hae-Joon’s obsessive drive. I wondered about the fate of certain characters or small narrative threads. However, I realized my complaints were revealing of the film’s biggest strength: its refusal to give the audience the answer. I was unintentionally hoping Decision to Leave would fit into a neat noir mold, one that I have been trained to expect and view as normal. However, it is in this ambiguity, in this mysterious presentation and commentary on its characters, that my earlier statement comes to light. Decision to Leave is a mystery. From wondering how certain shots were even conceived, nevertheless shot and brought to the big screen, to the narrative itself purposefully bending reality to confuse and intrigue the viewer, to even the genre it supposedly is, Chan-Wook has created a film that will endlessly delight and deceive all who choose to watch.