Spoilers ahead.

The Handmaiden (2016) is a story of vengeance, a lifetime in the making.

Revenge is a dish best served by Park Chan-wook, in the form of a tormented protagonist taking out a lifetime of vengeance on the ones that caused it.

This is precisely what The Handmaiden has to offer, in the most satisfying and visually captivating of packages. Made years after the release of the final instalment of his aptly named Vengeance Trilogy (2002–2005), this film continues to cement Park as a seasoned master of not only revenge stories but cinema itself.

Each given audience member can leave with some or several of the many takeaways that the film so kindly offers. It may be a romantic story of overcoming patriarchal oppression and finding love to some, or an unsettling horror movie to others.

Either way, it would not be irrational to assume that in essence, it is a story of righteous anger, oppression, and love, not at all unlike the 2002 novel ‘Fingersmith’ by Sarah Waters, on which the film is based. However, one key difference is that the book takes place in Victorian-era Britain, instead of 1930s Korea — a Korea under Japanese rule.

The plot follows Sook-hee (Kim Tae-ri), a young pickpocket posing as a handmaiden for Lady Hideko (Kim Min-hee), a reclusive heiress, in a ploy to steal her inheritance. The plan is orchestrated by Count Fujiwara (Ha Jung-woo), a con man with little moral code and an unquenchable thirst for money and prestige. His plan seems foolproof, involving charming and marrying the heiress before sending her to a mental institution and taking her fortune for himself.

However, his plan fails to take into account the prospect of his charms being ineffectual on the Lady or the two women falling in love. Unluckily for him, both of these things do indeed happen. The downfall of his plan is, in the end, sheer arrogance.

Before the plan even takes place, it is arranged for Lady Hideko to marry her perverted, cruel uncle, Kouzuki (Cho Jin-woong) — the lifelong tormentor of both Hideko and her aunt (Moon So-ri). Hideko keeps the length of rope that her aunt used to hang herself in a box above her dresser and later attempts to replicate the act in the very same place. The film does not end that morosely, though — fear not! She is saved by the newfound love of her life.

She does not end up marrying either of these loathsome men but, in the end — after much meticulous planning — runs off with Sook-hee on a ship bound for Shanghai under a murky, moonlit sky.

Meanwhile, in the basement of the dreary estate, Fujiwara undergoes gruesome torture carried out by Kouzuki. Though flawed as his plan was proven to be, Fujiwara did prepare for the worst. As smoke from his mercury-infused cigarette fills the room, these two agents of depravity take their last breaths.

With twists and turns around every corner, The Handmaiden keeps its audience alert and captivated for the entirety of the two-and-a-half-hour runtime. Much like the characters in this film, the movie itself has layers upon complex, deceitful, and protective layers to be uncovered to get to the true essence of things.

The second part of the film picks up from a different narrative and point of view than what we saw in the first half. We’re fiercely led to believe this, only to later find out that that is indeed the lay of the land. We think that they are in cahoots when it’s all a whole new ruse and actually others are working together.

The tremendous performances by every one of the cast members create a truly remarkable experience. Not only that, but every aspect of the film simply works.

The scene that solidifies the bond between our two protagonists is one of catharsis. Kouzuki’s library of smut — those books he made Hideko (and her aunt before her) study and do readings of in front of live audiences of miscellaneous rich perverts — gets destroyed by the heroes, after which Hideko calls Sook-hee her saviour.

The Handmaiden is not a movie to watch with your parents. It is a sexually loaded bomb with a fuse that’s long, but short enough to keep you on the edge of your seat. Even with all of its explicitness, nothing in this film seems contrived or forced.

Every detail serves a purpose beyond the surface level. Every glance and subtle move is there for a reason. Each shot reveals something that we maybe wouldn’t be privy to without a closer look, allowing us to ponder. It’s a fun cerebral exercise to try and pick up on all of the nuances and little bits of foreshadowing it contains with each viewing.

Edited by Nicole Tilby.