How The Handmaiden Deconstructs Gender Roles
Park Chan-wook’s film provides an in-depth look at its long-lasting effects.
The most recent film by Park Chan-Wook, The Handmaiden (2016), explores the psychological repercussions of gender roles, and how it can affect generations if left unchecked. It’s based on the novel Fingermith, written by Sarah Waters. The film takes place in 1930’s Korea, under Japanese occupation, and centers around Lady Hideko and her new handmaiden, Tamako. Hideko is the heir to the family fortune and is being groomed by her uncle Kouzuki to be his wife when she comes of age. While Tamako, whose actual name is Sookee, tries to persuade Hideko into marrying Count Fujiwara, a con artist, so she could get a cut of the fortune. But things get complicated when Sookee and Hideko begin to develop feelings for one another.
One of the most interesting aspects of the film is the decision to split it into three parts. The first part is told from Sookee’s point of view. She is determined to play her role as a handmaiden to Lady Hideko, and she’s very genuine in the way she expresses herself, something Hideko was never allowed to do. Sookee is in awe of Hideko’s seemingly perfect lifestyle, something she was never privileged enough to experience. The second part focuses on Lady Hideko and the history of the house. It is revealed that, since the age of five, she was taught to read so that she could fulfill the role that her aunt held before her — reading erotica to old men in a room (as if it was some sort of civilized activity). The readings get even more degrading with the use of props to illustrate the more ridiculous scenes from the texts. After being traumatized by the mental deterioration of her aunt, Hideko is completely subservient to her uncle.
Insanity seems to be a recurring theme in the film. The uncle, in one of his nonsensical rants, claims that the women in Hideko’s family are all prone to be insane, as if it’s in their nature. In reality, it’s the constant psychological torture that makes them go crazy. The plan that Sookee has with Count Fujiwara involves leaving Hideko in a madhouse. There are many parallels between the madhouse and the oppressive household that is run by the uncle. Hideko even mentions how the head maid had the same look as she did, meaning that she had been driven mad, too.
The head maid almost serves as an enforcer that keeps the other maids in check, so she can remain on the uncle’s good side. She probably knows that what she’s doing is wrong, but goes along with it for her own benefit. It’s pretty unsettling to know that she’s an active participant in the suffering of all the women in the household while also being a woman herself. At one point, Hideko’s aunt tries to escape the library in the middle of a study session, only to be stopped by the head maid when she shuts the exit and is met with the gaze of a snake statue — as if the very house is preventing her from leaving. She’s later punished for attempting to escape and commits suicide by hanging herself from the cherry tree that overlooks the house.
After repeat viewings, I noticed the multiple instances of symbolism that were used to represent Hideko’s situation. The dolls are first used to convey some sort of innocence, but when her lifestyle is revealed, it appears to represent her helplessness as she’s just a plaything for everyone else, with no real control over her life. The gloves that she wears seem to represent the role she was doomed to play for the rest of her life. And we can even see the physical toll that the role has taken on her when she removes her girdle for a brief moment. The snake in the library is a noticeably phallic figure that could represent the male dominance in the household. The use of poison is referenced a lot too, which could symbolize how this toxic behavior ends up infecting everyone inside the house. The uncle even keeps his tongue covered in ink — as if he’s literally the embodiment of toxic masculinity.
Speaking of which, the uncle has an obsession with erotic books. He forges and sells these books to maintain his wealth. He keeps a library full of these books, and some of them even feature images of bizarre sexual acts. It’s almost as if this was a statement on how pornography is just another way for men to exploit women as if they were just objects used to fulfill their sexual desires.
When Sookee realizes what Hideko’s been reading this whole time, she completely loses it and begins to destroy every book she can get her hands on. This is probably the most cathartic scene in the movie. The way the music swells while Hideko watches in awe as her savior destroys everything that has caused her so much pain was just breathtaking. It’s one of those unforgettable scenes in cinema that will forever be a shining example of the power of film, and those moments of transcendence that it reaches. After the library is destroyed, Sookee breaks the snake statue and literally helps Hideko cross a barrier that leads to her freedom. The amount of symbolism in the film could border on overkill in the hands of the wrong director, but Park Chan-wook manages to bring depth and nuance to something that could easily be seen as heavy-handed.
The film also emphasizes the roles that everybody seems to play. As Sookee said, “Everyone’s performing their roles so damned well.” Every character in the film, to some degree, is playing a role. Sookee is under the guise of a handmaiden called Tamako; Count Fujiwara pretends to be a nobleman when he’s actually not of noble blood; Hideko has been playing the role of a lady her whole life; and the uncle, who’s actually Korean, wishes to become Japanese, to the point that the house’s architecture features a mix of Korean and Japanese design. By the end of the film, it is revealed that the basement was basically a torture chamber. You can actually see jars that contain genitalia, which confirms the suspicion that Hideko’s aunt was castrated before she killed herself. There’s also an octopus, which leaves its purpose up to one’s morbid imagination. The basement almost serves as a center that harnesses all of the toxic behavior shown by the men in the film.
Speaking of which, it’s important to note just how oppressive the male characters were. The uncle smothers Hideko and her aunt for laughing during a reading session; Fujiwara continuously touches Sookee in very inappropriate ways and, at one point, pressures her to go along with the plan by placing her hand on his pelvis; and Hideko lives in perpetual fear of the basement, where she could meet the same horrific fate as her aunt. But in the end, their own lust becomes their undoing as both men meet their end in the dreaded basemen — where they perish in a cloud of their own toxicity.
The way the uncle’s problematic behavior was normalized for so long just reminded me of how a lot of this can be seen today in the workplace, where men are usually the ones who have higher positions of power (and we’ve already been made aware of multiple instances of men abusing their power to take advantage of women). The uncle also had associates that supported him financially as he carried on with his inhumane treatment of women. And whenever the women acted in a way that wasn’t considered “ladylike,” the uncle would gaslight them by calling them crazy.
The film is filled with so many details that serve the overall theme of the story. It’s one of those films that completely rewards multiple viewings. It’s hard to believe that all of these elements work together in such a seamless yet effortless way. The ending of the film finds the two women successfully escaping with the family fortune. Hideko says goodbye to her old life and throws her gloves into the ocean to start a new one. She is now free. Free from the suffering she had to endure her whole life. Free from the fate that was chosen for her at the age of five. Free from the house that has caused so much pain to so many people. Free to be herself, whoever that is.
