[Our thanks to Lauren Baggett for the following review.]
I must confess to being a little confused by some of the reception to THIRST. I rushed home immediately after Sunday's screening, eager to finally read all of the reviews I had been avoiding in order to keep myself unspoiled, only to find that the general opinion has been pretty mixed. Turns out that the very same elements I thought to be assets to the film were seen by others as liabilities. It makes me wonder if Park Chan-wook is becoming a victim of his own success. Just look at the critical reception to I'M A CYBORG BUT THAT'S OK: sure, the film was uneven, but its charm was all but ignored in favor of pronouncements that Park should stick to revenge flicks.
THIRST is not exactly the awaited return to form some fans have been expecting. For one thing, this is not your typical vampire film. Sang-hyun, our tormented vampiric priest, has no fangs. He's stuck using sharp objects, or simply chomping down really hard. Initially he takes pains to do no harm, slurping blood from comatose patients' IV lines. But soon, controlling his appetites proves to be... difficult, to say the least. What sets THIRST apart from its genre predecessors is what happens once Sang-hyun embraces his new state of being. Instead of a bloodbath, the film becomes a very personal drama augmented by bursts of blacker than black humor. For all the sturm und drang, this is a more controlled Park, and that might be where the problem lies for some. For all the sensationalistic coverage of THIRST before anyone actually saw it, it's understandable why the finished product might come across as a bit neutered. Not to say that it isn't violent or sexy. It is. But THIRST is conducted with a smoother and firmer hand, replacing the frenetic, jittery pace of OLDBOY or the baroque unreality of LADY VENGEANCE. It's a bit funny to say that a vampire film has a more realistic tone, but it does. Colors are more muted (though there's still some striking imagery), and dramatic set-pieces are down to a minimum. One sequence that does stand out is Sang-hyun cradling Tae-ju as he leaps from rooftop to rooftop. The camera stays on Tae-ju's face the entire time, jolting slightly whenever Sang-hyun lands on another roof, capturing the sense of new-found freedom the two of them have discovered. It's the only time the two lovers are truly happy, and the scene is brilliant in its simplicity. (Plus, the camera angles obscure some dubious CGI work, an unfortunate low point in the film.)
Song Kang-ho portrays Sang-hyun's torment beautifully, but the film belongs to Kim Ok-vin. At once vulnerable and fiery, she portrays Tae-ju with a sulk and a spine of steel, a spine which shows itself more and more once she becomes entangled with Sang-hyun. Her transformation into a gleefully amoral siren armed with sharp objects turns the final act into a riveting experience.
If the film lags anywhere, it's at the start of the third act, with Tae-ju and Sang-hyun locked in a twisted domesticity that isn't nearly as interesting as it should be. But their fragile situation soon reaches a boiling point, and THIRST quickly careens into a magnificently shot dénouement and a bleak but beautiful ending. To me, THIRST marks a turning point in the work of Park Chan-wook, and I'm really excited to see what he can come up with next if he continues in this vein.
Then again, I'm a big I'M A CYBORG BUT THAT'S OK apologist, so your own mileage may vary.
Review by Lauren Baggett.