Lady Vengeance

I was all set to love Chan Wook Park's LADY VENGEANCE. I thought SYMPATHY FOR MISTER VENGEANCE was excellent, and I think OLDBOY is one of the best films of the decade. When the beautifully stylized opening credits rolled, I sat back and got ready to wrap myself in the world of a master.

But here's the problem: people have been telling Park (Or is it Chan? I wish we could all settle on a Western standard.) that he's a genius, and he's starting to believe them. LADY VENGEANCE spend so much time cycling into and out of normal narrative time, its subnotes are so cute, and its flights of fancy so indistinguishable from mental instability, that LV fairly screams, "Look at me! I'm the work of a genius, dammit! A genius!" I could not immerse myself in its world because it couldn't quite decide in which world it wanted to immerse me. I could not empathize with its protagonist because by the time the film gave me enough material to do so, I had ceased to care. I could not enjoy the film because the film gave me no cause to do so.

LADY VENGEANCE is the kind of film in which the production designer seems to struggle with the lighting guy, who struggles with the cinematographer, who struggles with the director, who struggles with the actors. They're all trying to one-up each other, all trying to showcase their Genius. But they forgot about me, Joe- Guy -on -the -Couch -Whose -Back -Hurts -from -Raking -Leaves. Entertain me, people. Make me think. Hell, dazzle me. But don't distract me with your Genius.

Just tell me a story.