Ardor or obsession?

Filmbrain has a question primarily for his female readers, but everybody is welcome to respond. Imagine this scenario -- it's Christmas eve, and you are at home wrapping presents with your husband of nearly ten years while your daughter, aged 8, is in the other room sleeping. The doorbell rings. It's one of your husband's female students, inquiring why he didn't turn up at a party that night. She's extremely drunk, and within moments is throwing herself all over your husband, begging to spend one final night with him before she moves away. You break down, realizing that your husband has been having an affair. Your illusions about marriage, raising a child, and growing old together have just been shattered. You run to the bedroom, but the young student follows. Locking the door behind her, she spells out all the gory details of the affair, which included an abortion. Desperate, she grabs for something and smashes your head with a blunt object. You fall to the floor, unconscious and bleeding from the skull. Six months go by. You are now living in a remote village, still with your husband and daughter. You suffer from almost constant headaches, and are addicted to painkillers and anti-depressants. Most of your day is spent in bed, or driving around the village in a daze. Your relationship with your husband is strained to say the least. You often cry, still trying to make sense of the whole affair, and questioning why you are still with him. You don't even enjoy sleeping next to him in the same bed. When you confront him on these issues, he is compassionate and understanding, but rapidly losing patience with repeatedly having the same discussion. He feels that sacrificing his career to move with you to the countryside is penance enough for his transgression. One day, your car runs out of gas on a road just outside the village. A shiny black SUV pulls up behind you, driven by an extremely good looking, but overtly confident man. Coming to your aid (and flirting with you in the process), you learn that he is a doctor in the village. He is married, but his wife lives in the city, visiting only a few times a month. Some days later, you visit the doctor in a panic as you have run out of pills. He is convinced your headaches could be cured by other means -- getting out more, walking, living, etc. He proposes a game for the summer -- that you and he start an intense sexual relationship, with the loser being the first one that says "I love you". You ask him if he has played this before. He has. You ask about his wife. She doesn't mind, as long as she doesn't see it. Given what you've been through, and considering that it's only been six months since your husband's young mistress showed up at your door, would you accept his offer and play the game? Would you go and do the same thing your husband did as some sort of eye-for-an-eye revenge? This is exactly the choice that Mi-heun is presented with (and accepts) in Byun Young-joo's Ardor. Filmbrain has mixed feelings about the film, and honestly doesn't know what to think. That Ardor was directed by a woman (of which there are sadly too few in Korean cinema) only adds to his confusion. Korean cinema, much like Korean society, is often accepting and forgiving of males who cheat on their spouses, and Byun's attempt to confront the issue is wonderful in theory, yet her execution leaves much to be desired. Perhaps Mi-heun feels trapped in her new life in the country, where the eyes of literally everybody are upon her. Having an affair right under their noses is then both an act of rebellion, as well as an act of revenge. But is it truly a form of empowerment? Is agreeing to a sexual relationship with a man who is both married and cheating on Mi-heun at the same time a step forward in the reduction of double standards? Is not the offer of sex without any ties, emotion, or commitment the epitome of male fantasy? Mi-heun is a very interesting (and strong) character, and her experience in the opening ten minutes is an excellent setup for a great story. As disgusted as she is with her husband's actions, she still turns to a man who is blatant about his non-acceptance of morality or fidelity -- yet we're never really sure what drives her to that point. Why does Byun feel the need to create the doctor (In-gyu) as perfect gigolo -- handsome, wealthy, sensitive and (naturally) a selfless lover as well? With this, the film jumps from powerful drama to an Adrian Lyne (Unfaithful) vehicle, and as a result the film turns into a soft-core potboiler. That In-gyu and Mi-heun fall in love comes as no surprise, but there's nothing about their relationship to make it seem credible. At the very least, Filmbrain imagined that the film would end with Mi-heun making a difficult choice, and as a result would become a stronger, more confident woman. Instead, Byun throws in a deus ex machina that further drags the film down into "horrible third act" country. Byun Young-joo is better known as a documentary filmmaker, and this is her first feature. Her most famous film is a powerful documentary about Korean "comfort women" during WWII (The Murmuring), which further confuses Filmbrain when thinking about Ardor. Why does this film, made by a feminist director, come across as just the opposite? Part of the problem lies with her depiction of In-gyu. Is he meant to be held in contempt? Are we to view him as the living embodiment of the worst qualities a man can possess? One would never guess that by watching the film, where he is continually shown as the ideal dream man and object of lust. Is Mi-heun's tit-for-tat affair meant to be an uplifting, positive message? Maybe Filmbrain is at fault, and he simply took it too seriously. What if Ardor is meant to be nothing more than a soft-core film for women? Viewed at that level, it's not such a bad film. Beautiful landscapes, with beautiful people, having beautiful sex. However, if it's held up against films with a similar theme (A Good Lawyer's Wife, An Affair, Happy End) then it comes off as terribly lacking. Another possibility, of course, is that there is a cultural element to the film that escaped Filmbrain's grasp. Filmbrain would love to hear from anybody who has seen the film to find out if his reading of it is totally off base (which it very well might be). Feel free to comment here or get in touch via email.