Lust, Caution

Ang Lee's latest fare, Lust, Caution, has received attention for its pair of lengthy sex scenes that boldly showcase the film's stars (Tang Wei and Tony Leung) sprawled across a bed in various positions. But the core of these scenes, as is the case with all 158 minutes of the film, is the clash of dominant personalities with conflicting motives and passions.

The film opens with shots of Japanese guards and their dogs circling 1942 Shanghai-an apt visual reference for a movie about performing under unremitting surveillance. Lee quickly introduces us to a quartet of four wealthy mah-jongg playing women, the youngest of whom is called Mak Tai Tai (Tang), though this is not her true identity. Four years earlier, we discover that Mak is in fact Wong Chia Chi, a young student drawn into a patriotic theater troupe that fervently opposes the Japanese occupation of China. In order to assassinate Mr. Yee (Leung), a top Japanese collaborator, Wong agrees to assume the identity of the charming femme fatale figure, Mak.

Lee's interplay of the two temporal segments hinges on Tang's ability to shift deftly between Wong and Mak. As Wong, she is an ingénue with a schoolgirl crush on a theater director, and as Mak, she is a seductress who engages in duplicitous and dangerous games (literally and figuratively). Lee's restraint as a director works particularly well in his treatment of Yee. As head of the Shanghai police, he is reticent and reserved, at least until he displays his penchant for sadomasochism.

Notwithstanding its strengths, the movie suffers from a lack of focus that may stem from its source, a Chinese novella of the same name. Overall, Lee seems unsure which details to discard and which to linger over. Despite the egregious backstory, the relationship between Yee and Mak and the seamless blend of espionage and eroticism, is compelling. Ultimately, Lust, Caution is about the intersection of its title traits-Yee's desire for Mak is a function of his suspicions of her intentions, whereas Mak, on the other hand, derives her pleasure from knowing that she treads the line between sincerity and deception.

In the process, Mak's identity morphs and expands so that the boundary between her and Wong is no longer distinguishable. By the end, the woman we thought we knew transforms into something altogether different-but the indelible trace keeps you languishing for more.