Lust, Caution
by tristero
I could write a million words about Ang Lee’s Lust, Caution which has haunted nearly all my thoughts since I saw it two nights ago, and will do so for a long time to come. But a far better idea is to state simply and directly that this is one of the finest films I have seen in years, and on so many different levels. “Lust, Caution” is a great masterpiece, beautifully directed with superb performances that are as wrenching and as perfectly realized as any you are ever likely to see, especially by the two leads – Tony Leung and Tang Wei.
The reviews that I’ve read, both good and bad, are very misleading. They won’t give you any sense of what this film is really about (although the spoiler-riddled review by Andrew Sarris comes closest; read it after you’ve seen the movie).* That’s partly because the film is so textured and nuanced, it’s “about” many different things at the same time. “Lust, Caution” is devastatingly emotional, a wrenching experience. And it is as cold as a chilly night in an unheated car outside a torture prison. It is passionately erotic and yet so deeply chaste and repressed that a beautiful woman’s lipstick left on a delicate cup registers as gory and disgusting. The film seems long, perhaps rambling and improvisatory, but its structure is as perfectly honed as the performance of Chinese Opera virtuoso.
Some reviewers pride themselves on catching a fleeting Hitchcock reference in the film, for example, to “Notorious.” As Brahms said when people told him that the last theme of his first symphony sounded like Beethoven’s Ninth: any fool can see that. In fact, the numerous, sometimes contrapuntal, nods to Hitchcock are a huge MacGuffin. Despite being a deeply personal and tragic story, it’s quite plausible to think of “Lust, Caution” as a carefully wrought meditation on the impact of cinema as pure art. Hint: Mr. Yee doesn’t go to the movies because he’s afraid of the dark.
But no review seems to have caught the fact that this is a film as much about contemporary American politics and imperial power as it is about China and Japan in the late 30’s/early 40’s. For a film that is overwhelmingly sensual, sensuous, sometimes idealistic, and crammed with all kinds of complex emotions, the political and cultural vision is incredibly grim, almost nihilist.
Well, I failed not to write about “Lust, Caution,” but there is so much more I haven’t even mentioned. See it. You won’t see a greater new film for a long time to come. And you really should see it, the first time at least, in a theater. You may not like it that first time because, like many masterpieces, it is a disturbing work, not only on the surface but deeply, viscerally, and intellectually. But a masterpiece it unquestionably is.
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Full Disclosure: Producer and co-writer James Shamus and I have known each other for a very long time. We are friends of his and his family and I have enormous respect for him, both as a filmmaker and as a person (I am far from alone). I have never met Ang Lee. My 11-year old daughter has, however, met one of the stars of the film, Tang Wei.
Please try not to let your concern about my bias influence your decision to see this truly remarkable film. I’ve seen many of James’ projects, including, of course, the wonderful Brokeback Mountain. Even by his high standards, this film is exceptional.
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*Chances are that if you’ve heard anything about “Lust, Caution”, you’ve heard it has intense, explicit sex scenes. This is true: there are several scenes of intense, explicit sex. There are also several scenes of intense, explicit mah jongg. Both games are crucial to the meaning and structure of the film and it is vitally important that we see these characters play both.There is much more mah jongg than sex in “Lust, Caution.” I will leave it to you to decide whether that balance is appropriate.