Lust, Caution

Don't let the terrible title put you off. The film's quality is inverse to that of the title. Never a shot too long or too short, never a word out of place, acting right on the money scene after scene after scene, this is premium film-making. It is the type of film that makes going to the cinema such a spellbinding experience. It is the movie equivalent of chocolate, but really, really good chocolate. The Valrhona of cinema.

It is a story that grips you for every one of its 157 minutes, that ticks all the story boxes: what happens next, what happens next, what happens next?!

You know when a film tells rather than shows? This film shows, every moment of anguish, every moment of fear is etched on the screen. Some films would tell us the student radicals were inept and would proceed to show pratfuls and most probably the boys more interested in girls and the girls more interested in make-up. It would be like a lecture, the film's voice telling us something and then illustrating it. This film does not do that. The students are inept because we see them being inept. Ang Lee doesn't overdo it (they do kill someone after all, but it is rushed, hurried, unplanned), but we know that their muddled plans will never quite lead to the desired end.

When Wong Chia Chi lets fly at her spymaster, cursing him for this mission and describing in minute detail the hell of sleeping with the animalistic Mr Lee we know every word of her speech to be true because we have seen it for ourselves. Ang Lee doesn't let us miss anything.

There have been few times in my film-watching career where I've been aware that I'm watching an utterly masterful film. The first - and still most vivid - time was during The Godfather. I remember just sitting there and it hitting me: this is perfect film-making. So is Lust, Caution. Or nearly perfect: the title needs a bit of work.