Perfect Pain

This is not a movie review. I read Eileen Chang's short story "Lust, Caution" last night, and then reread parts of it again just to see where the author has set me up to be screwed. And I thought about whether it would've worked had it been longer, more padded out, and I decided probably not. It was like a magician's act; it had to over fairly quickly so that the sleight of hand will conclude the act quickly, before the audience has time to react to the unexpectedness of it all. But the magician's act is thrilling and unbelievable. Chang's story is harrowing and damnably believable. It reminded me of the time many years ago when I finished Edith Wharton's "Ethan Frome" in one sitting and couldn't sleep afterwards. The ending of Chang's story took her a few years to revise and hone, we are informed in the accompanying texts, and the story is over in a mere 45 pages. But its impact is such that its draws for us the question "why?" and the judgement "stupid!" That is the beauty of this taut story, and I can well imagine the movie will be even more painful because the beauty, she, will be given a powerfully physical form. For this reason, I'm content not to watch it. Let perfection be, and let it not spoil my imagination of it.

Chup