I haven’t seen Kim In-Sik’s Road Movie, but I understand it’s received a lot of praise. I went into this film, assuming it was yet another bloody psychological horror film, with the protagonist not actually being insane, but being made insane by ghosts. The Hypnotized will either engross you devoutly, or bore you rigid.

Jin-Su (Kim Hye-Soo) is a woman on the verge of schizophrenia, suffering from Borderline Personality Disorder and doesn’t look to be getting better. This has, it seems, stemmed from her husband’s continual infidelity, and her rejection by everyone she knows. She invites people for dinner, and no one turns up; she’s rejected by the man she’s married; she’s rejected by every publisher she has approached, having locked herself in her room, trying to write a complete book every single month.

Her obsession and compulsion leads to a breakdown, causing her to become delusional and suffering from BPD. That is until she meets the psychiatrist Sok-Won (Kim Tae-Woo). It seems, however, that Sok-Won is handing in his resignation and leaving his existing patients in the care of another psychiatrist, who also happens to be his friend. Before he leaves, he asks Jin-Su to promise to continue her treatment if she decides to leave the hospital.

A year has passed, and the two bump into each other in a gymnasium. Sok-Won doesn’t recognise her now, and sees her every so often by chance, until Jin-Su gives herself a reason to visit him. So a friendship begins, within which therapy is provided, and soon Sok-Won’s own obsessions start to develop for Jin-Su. Was this all coincidence, or planned by Jin-Su? Is she playing with him as she was played with by everyone else, or is her desire for him real? The film takes an ironic and disturbing turn, as the therapist becomes the victim, the rejected; Jin-Su is now in control. Her husband also as a revelation that he loves his wife, and so decides to give up his affair. Jin-Su is being lusted after two men, after having nothing, and yet she desires neither it seems.

The therapy starts to mix with obsession, passion and sex; a mixture Jin-Su is only too keen to entertain until she has had enough, of course, Sok-Won doesn’t feel the same, and starts to gradually become one of those he is paid to treat; a patient. It’s obvious that even seeing his patient in this condition, there’s only one person on his mind, and soon he begins to understand how she felt, or perhaps still does.

There is something about this film, that I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s slow paced, it’s very muted in both colour and its tone; the characters are really well developed, particularly Jin-Su’s seductive, alluring darkness and Sok-Won’s gradual depravity into possessiveness. There’s a hint of Sex, Lies and Videotape and other semi-erotic, voyeuristic films. It’s titillation and eroticism, with a sense of film noir. This probably isn’t surprising as the director studied film in France, and no doubt was influenced by film there.

I did notice a French elegance and stylisation to the film, as well as the character of Jin-Su. The way the dynamic works, the arty manner in which visualisations of a disparate mind are presented; the subtly of the camera work, and yet the aggressiveness of the jealousy displayed contrast and compliment each other simultaneously. It’s definitely and art house film, which answers the question as to it’s lack of success in Korea and other Asian countries. Sexual eroticism and exploration is not something that is explored beyond anything that is soft porn and related material.

You’d be hard pushed to name 10 films that are Asian and can claim to be erotic, art house cinema. It’s definitely something the West, in particular the French, is proficient at. However, it’s striking and brilliant to see a Korean director attempt this within Korean actors. The settings themselves are about as Western as can be, which perhaps makes the whole process easier; keep the environment generic, but keep the characters local to add that particular nuance.

Camera work is beautiful and chic throughout. There’s definitely something new and refreshing from a Korean film perspective; even if it’s something that’s been done to death in the West. You have to understand that as films go, this is actually breaking the mould and moving things forward. You can only hope that this will inspire other Asian directors to consider films which are much more psychological than what they’re typically used to doing. That Korean mix, really does add a fresh perspective of things. Credit to the director, for also integrating subtle symbolism and metaphor in the film, something severely lacking at the moment in Korean cinema. At times, particular the first half, it comes across as very Lynch.

Sexual scenes are carefully handled with delicacy, always ensuring that some degree of emotion is expressed; be it tenderness or sinful lust, without being overly graphic or having sex for the sake of sex. There’s nothing overly graphic, and being art house, you’ll expect to see not much in actual sexual activity, after all, aside from pandering to eroticism, this is no porn film – porn is about as erotic as uncooked haddock (though I’ve never tried haddock in that way before).

The more I think about the film, the more I like it, and there are one or two unanswered questions, but again, you could argue this is a case of artistic symbolism, not really meant to mean anything other than the director’s pretentious desire to confuse his audience to discuss a particular point. Still, the questions do linger, and I don’t have the answers yet.

I’ve come away from Faceless Beauty incredibly impressed. I like films which display a degree of art, that confuse as well as work the mind. The plot doesn’t really exist, and it wouldn’t be wrong to say that this is just a story about two people who meet and end up on different sides of the glass wall. Where once was one, now the other is. The ending is quite strange, but in some way very fitting. It’s not so much a twist, as an example of the brink at which everything is pushed towards. There is an edge that everyone can step over; regardless of how secure you think you are.

At twenty-minutes short of being two hours, this is not a short film and with it’s slow pace, it won’t attract a large crowd of people to watch it. However, to see something fairly unique in Korean cinema, a noir style psychological drama, then you can’t go far wrong with this. It’s very much a thinking person’s movie, almost like reading a good book; it takes, and you will get to a point in the end, but you just have to keep with it to appreciate it as a whole.

Verdict: Superb, masterful and powerful film about desiring, surrendering and abandonment.