The series doubles as both a high-speed comedy and a dark, biting drama.
It’s safe to say our cultural fascination with the blood-sucking undead isn’t going away anytime soon.
Park Chan-wook discusses the origins of his aesthetic choices, how he came to his depiction of technology in the film, and more.
Throughout, one often feels the plot machinations working against Park Chan-wook’s poetry, though in a few cases poetry wins out.
Given its sharp, intricate setup, the film’s subsequent straightforwardness is disappointing.
Park Chan-wook is a fussy, almost anal-retentive formalist at heart, and that quality serves The Handmaiden.
The sex never escapes the feeling of the very exploitation that it’s supposed to represent a rejection of.
I hate to take the easy road and say that the designers of the poster thought outside of the box, but, hey, if the metaphor fits.
The film can be fetching, but it’s nothing if not vacuous, a series of disjointed, improvisatory riffs.
With all thrillers, the payoff is as important as the setup, and it’s in the final revelations of the story that Stoker truly falters.
Was this always such a loveless family?
While its not for everyone, the film is one of director Park Chan-wook’s best.
This set is a wonderfully detailed presentation of an interesting, troubling, schizophrenic, more than occasionally stupid series.
The film is essentially a giallo fanboy’s interpretation of Emile Zola’s Thérèse Raquin, maybe even George Stevens’s A Place in the Sun.
With Sympathy for Lady Vengeance, Park Chan-wook delivers more virtuosic but empty flash.
This high profile “sequel” to the 2002 horror anthology Three compiles shorts by Fruit Chan, Park Chan-wook, and Takashi Miike.
The film is a daisy wheel of revenge-fueled gore speciously intercut with delusions of social commentary.
A pristine example of style and plot over substance.