Movie Review: Stoker

Stoker marks the first entry into the English language for acclaimed South Korean director Park Chan-wook, following January's The Last Stand from Kim J-woon, and preceding Bong Joon-ho's Snowpiercer, which is expected later this year.

Despite American audiences apparent aversion to all things subtitled, Park is already well known by many American film fans, thanks in large part to 2003's Oldboy, which has become a well-known cult hit since its Cannes premiere. While differing in their overall subject matter, and while Stoker is the much more polished film visually, it's immediately recognizable how similar the two are both thematically and structurally.

The film opens with an eerie voiceover from our protagonist, India Stoker (Mia Wasikowska), as she describes how outside forces effect the formation of any being. To call this an obvious foreshadow would be at once completely correct, yet significantly underestimating how important the scene truly is. A lot happens in this sequence - things no audience will be able to fully grasp until the film wants us to. 

Stoker, like Oldboy, is completely content with establishing intrigue, and then slowly peeling back layers that will reveal more and more of the puzzle. It's important to pay attention (frankly, it'd be hard not to - Stoker is pretty engrossing), yet you don't need to do much work per se. Park and the script from Wentworth Miller (yes, the guy from Prison Break) will eventually tell you everything you need to know. 

India is a cold, detached, seemingly emotionless high school girl (the realization that these people live in modern society is more than a bit jarring) whose father has just been killed in a car accident. Left to live with a parent she clearly relates little to (Nicole Kidman), and one that she obviously has never had much of a relationship with, India's life is complicated further by the arrival of her Uncle Charlie (played to creepy perfection by Matthew Goode) whom she never knew existed.

Unsettling from the get go due to the fact that it's clear there's more here than meets the eye, Stoker gets into some pretty squeamish territory before revealing what the hell is actually going on in this family. 

There’s no questioning Park’s visual storytelling ability. It's clear that Park is drawn to narratives of this ilk, but while Miller's script is not bad by any means, it does take some shortcuts, and ends up noticeably relying on Park and cinematographer Chung Chung-hoon to further the story. At times it feels like maybe Park overcompensates a bit—there's a memorable scene in which letters are read while old-timey calligraphy appears on screen, superimposed over the image. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't interesting, but it's also distracting and unnecessary, and feels like visual flair for the sake of it.  

Stoker's sound design is another story entirely. The sound, including a predictably strong and haunting score by Clint Mansell, drives the emotion and accentuates the already established tone. The aural exaggerations of everyday activities, including things like the peeling of a hard-boiled egg or the shaving of a pencil, have no business being as creepy as they are.   

The big reveals are helped by Park's terrific technical work, but one can't help feel a bit underwhelmed by the outcome. Satisfaction with what Stoker gives us largely depends on how willing you are to accept it. It's violent, it's uncomfortable, and it's nowhere near realistic. Hardly a character here behaves anything like a real person, but that's kind of the point. Certain characters feel sufficiently developed by the end, while others are left frustratingly ambiguous. It ultimately leaves you with this odd combination of being completely drawn in by these mysterious and compelling characters, yet being left cold by the way everything "resolves" itself. Not quite as cold as Wasikowska's India, but close.  

I told someone immediately after seeing Stoker that I wasn't sure whether I loved it or hated it. I'm still not sure. 

7/11