REVIEW: DVD Release: A Tale Of Two Sisters
Film: A Tale Of Two Sisters
Release date: 22nd November 2004
Certificate: 15
Running time: 115 mins
Director: Kim Ji-woon
Starring: Kim Kap-su, Yum Jung-ah, Lim Su-jeong, Moon Geun-young, Lee Seung-bi
Genre: Drama/Horror/Mystery/Thriller
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: South Korea
Having been adapted from a Korean folk story entitled Janghwa Hongreyon jeon, A Tale Of Two Sisters amalgamates the subtle, sinister atmosphere of an urban myth with a stylized, visual beauty integrated by director Kim Ji-woon.
The film begins with a young girl being questioned by a psychiatrist in an eerily indistinct scene set inside a bleak, white hospital. What follows, rather unsurprisingly, is a story centred upon two sisters, Su-Mi and her timid younger sibling Su-Yeon. The girls are getting ready to move into a beautiful, yet utterly secluded house, in the serene countryside, with their father, Mu-Hyun, and a seemingly iniquitous stepmother, Eun-Joo. The reason for this change of locale is hinted at being a recovery from some unspecified disturbance.
The sisters struggle to settle in their new surroundings, due to their relationship with their belligerent stepmother. Despite the tension between the three females being overt, with Su-Mi openly showing her hostility toward Eun-Joo, Mu-Hyun seems unreservedly desensitized to the issue, and reacts only by opting for calm within the family. Disturbing occurrences soon occur within the house, with a tormented Su-Mi struggling with the visions of peculiar nightmares whilst trying to calm her younger sisters’ deteriorating mental state, due to a combination of an ostensibly terrifying wooden closet and the wicked actions of Eun-Joo…
Like many films released during the boom years of East-Asian horror cinema, A Tale Of Two Sisters is somewhat attentive towards the idea of disunity and dysfunction within the family unit. Su-Mi’s fractured and hostile relationship towards her stepmother, as well as Mu-Hyun’s seeming lack of interest and concern, are indicative of a broken family. This apprehension invoked by the cracked relationships between the characters is an excellent aspect of the film, especially when coupled with the eerie, hazy tension within the house.
One the film’s most important and impressive facets is the sheer ambiguity which looms over the story. From the opening scene within the hospital to the rationale behind the resentment between Su-Mi and Eun-Joo, as well as the underlying mental disturbances of the characters, director Kim Ji-woon refuses to spoon feed the audience, and keeps us firmly in the dark and guessing throughout the film. The ambiguous nature of the story is aptly juxtaposed with the mental states of the characters, and in particular, Su-Mi.
The ambiguity throughout the film may slightly deter some viewers, as the story is sometimes difficult to follow due to a certain lack of exposition. However, this is a key component of the film, and is sine qua non in adding a certain amount of vagueness and tension to the story, which, at times, is built up to frightening proportions. This is often helped by the pacing of the film, which can be very slow. When the girls first move into their new home at the start of the film, the pacing of the film is almost dream-like, setting up a wonderfully tense atmosphere highly reminiscent of a David Lynch film. Although it speeds up at the film’s denouement, involving several twists and turns, the best instances within the story are when the pacing is slow, and scenes are often cut together in an almost meticulous fashion.
The horror in A Tale Of Two Sisters is dictated by the underlying psychological aspects which run through the film. The emotional distress manifests through bizarre events which can be very creepy. Particularly eerie set pieces involve a gruesome Su-Mi nightmare laden with a subtext of menstruation, and a truly peculiar scene in which Mu-Hyun’s guests experience an outlandish dinner scenario. As the story progresses, the audience is often persuaded to question the validity and pragmatism of certain scenes, and, as the mental states of the characters become more mysterious, things are increasingly not what they seem.
Aesthetically, the film is beautiful. The visuals combine a surreal reverie with a dark and gothic aspect which makes for an excellent grouping. The opening scene, for example, is a visual delight. The shady and sterilised hospital room merges with an atmosphere of tension and ambiguity to produce a perfect starting block. Alongside the dark shadows which encompass the film are a litany of vivid and dazzling colours which bring out the films dream-like quality.
The overriding feeling whilst watching the film is of pure anxiety. As the film draws to a end, twists become apparent, which really do piece together the story. One criticism may be that the film is somewhat over-complicated, with some aspects of the film being superfluous. On occasions, it can be confusing, whilst at others, it can be like a Lucian Freud painting; both beautiful and gruesome, sometimes hard to watch, yet you cannot keep your eyes off it.
In what has been customary for successful East-Asian horror cinema of recent years, the film was given a Hollywood remake, The Uninvited (2009). However, this original is truly superior. An aesthetically beautiful, yet, at times, utterly disturbing film that delivers a deliciously disconcerting atmosphere throughout. CJG
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