The Housemaid

Cannes (Official Selection) - An affair between a pretty young domestic and master of the mansion spawns a spate of dark-hearted scheming, as the wronged wife seeks to reassert herself. Paul Martin is instantly smitten by a true cinematic beauty.

Actually 'instantly smitten' is perhaps not quite true. Yes, the vast majority of the running time of Im Sang-soo's The Housemaid, a 50th anniversary remake of a Kim Ki-young movie of the same title, is so rich a visual feast that, did your peepers possess any kind of appetite apex, they would surely be yelling out, “That's enough, I'm full!” some time before the closing credits. However the movie is topped by a prologue which sees a woman leaping to her death on a busy, neon-lit city street, and in contrast to the incredible control and painterly precision exhibited by Im and his cinematographer Lee Hyung Deok during the rest of the movie, this early section is shot seemingly on the hoof, being all jittery camerawork and cluttered, luridly-illuminated locations.

From this shocking early moment (which remains largely mysterious, though I – as I suspect most other viewers will – have fashioned my own theory about its meaning, in light of the movie's conclusion), we move into the main body of the story. Central protagonist Eun-yi (Jeon Do-youn) is a young and attractive woman, although she is somewhat immature and inattentive, as well as for the moment being down on her luck financially, forced as she is to share bed space with a snoring friend. She therefore eagerly grabs the chance to become part of the household staff for fantastically wealthy couple, Hoon (Lee Jung-jae), a gifted pianist, and his heavily pregnant wife Hae-ra (Seo Woo), working under the ruthlessly efficient eye of chief domestic, Byung-sik (Youh Yuh-jung).

On a cursory level, Hoon and Hae-ra appear to have it all, and then some more on top of that too. They are youthful, gorgeous, have one daughter already, twins on the way, and they live in a spectacular mansion, tastefully decked out in modern, minimal manner. In spite of that, there is a disconnect in their marriage, it essentially being a bond forged to meet the requirements of each; she needs his wealth, he needs the trophy wife.

With this gulf between them, he turns his attention to Eun-yi, a blaze of lust temporarily igniting between the two (there is one flesh-slapping sex scene shot in extreme close-up, his torso sensuously pressing up and down on her back). Though Hoon soon discards his new plaything, complications ensue when Byung-sik discerns that there is a second pregnancy in the household – Eun-yi's. It is a discovery that triggers a rash of wicked conniving, as Hae-ra and her devilish mother attempt to prevent the baby from being born.

There must be a suspicion that the somewhat schlocky (though always gripping and entertaining) melodramatics of The Housemaid will deny it a serious shot at the Palme d'Or. On the other hand, were the winner of the world's most famous film festival decided on looks alone then the other 18 in-competition flicks would have been advised to pack up and go home now, so microscopic are their chances of surpassing the sheer sumptuousness of this South Korean stunner. Honestly, unless you're shacked up with a supermodel then it is monumentally improbable that you will feast your peepers on anything this good-looking for a very long time to come.

The shots are ornately constructed. One early one in particular had me swooning, as Im places the loathsomely smug Hoon in the centre of frame and Hae-ra and Eun-yi in separate rooms either side. He watches over both, like a feudal lord surveying his territories, while they each remain unaware of the other's nearby presence. The use of colour too is wonderful, the palette being deliberately limited, with chilly whites and deep ocean blues dominating in the emotionally dysfunctional home.

This measured mise en scène is periodically visited by arresting flashes of red – the coffee machine, the red wine slurped by Hoon, the doll belonging to daughter Nami, the stereo – seemingly prophesying violence; an implication that becomes material in a later scene when a bathtub fills with blood. Indeed, while the violence in The Housemaid is limited, it is both shocking and tough to watch when it arrives, with only the moment of Grand Guignol horror which brings the film to a close feeling slightly misjudged, as well as being one of the very few moments where the aesthetic magnificence dips, thanks to some slightly wonky digital imagery.

For all his appalling narcissism, Hoon is essentially a moron, with the real machinations occurring between the female characters. Byung-sik proves the point of real interest in this regard, flitting between the opposing factions – showing genuine affection for Eun-yi, feeling a bond of honour to her employer Hae-ra, even though she detests the latter, her awful husband and chillingly evil mother. It is the enigma represented by the aging maid's conflicting actions which ensures that The Housemaid has the narrative meat to complement its extraordinary visual garnish.

Rating on a scale of 5 instances when judging a book by its cover is okay: 4.5

Release date: TBC
Directed by: Im Sang-soo
Written by: Im Sang-soo
Cast: Jeon Do-youn, Youn Yuh-jung, Lee Jung-jae, Seo Woo
Rating: TBC
Running time: 110 minutes