Resisting to pass judgment, this Chinese documentary holds up a mirror to society and compels us to question the fine line between morality and duty in the age-old institution of love and deception.
A review by Konstantinos Papakyritsis
“Just because you’re unhappy this second, are you going to throw away the other 59?”
After three years of relentless filming —marked by six successive, sometimes aborted, sometimes banned attempts— we are finally presented with the most complete exploration of China’s clandestine love industry. Premiering at the 81st Venice International Film Festival in late 2024 and becoming an instant favorite of the Top Docs category at the 27th Thessaloniki International Documentary Festival this March, Mistress Dispeller exposes the intricate ways in which the titular profession influences modern Chinese society. To appreciate director Elizabeth Lo’s unwavering dedication, one need only observe the film’s unfiltered moments of raw reality, where the camera dares to operate in the most remote and intimate recesses of human experience.
The documentary follows the harrowing journey of a married woman who observes unsettling changes in her husband’s behavior and decides to enlist the expertise of established “mistress dispeller” Wang Zhenxi. Revealed with meticulous precision, Wang’s clandestine profession is steeped in strategy and psychological nuance, employing unorthodox scientific and behavioral methodologies to extricate individuals from affairs and restore domestic stability.
The wife’s covert engagement with Wang unfolds with surgical accuracy. Under strict, almost clinical instructions, the latter orchestrates an encounter with the husband, an encounter that strips away deception and exposes the raw, unembellished truth. But the psychological chess game does not end there. In an audacious maneuver, the dispeller infiltrates the world of the husband’s mistress under the guise of a familial connection, setting the stage for a delicate yet deliberate manipulation. What follows is an introspective battle, an emotional reckoning in which the betrayed wife must decide whether she wishes to reclaim her marriage or abandon it entirely.
In spite of the integral need for close-up intimacy, the documentary still maintains a remarkable balance with careful frames and an expansive visual poetry. Lo’s direction imparts a fruitful sense of formalist cinematography, weaving the couple’s turbulent emotional landscape with the serene grandeur of nature—a subtle nod to Chinese cultural reverence for harmony and restraint.
The climax unfolds with gripping intensity: a singular confrontation, woman against woman. Here, their respective realities collide, their fates momentarily suspended in a space of unspoken defiance. In this electrifying moment, a brief exchange —unveiled in its unvarnished finality— seals the trajectory of their intertwined lives. The resolution is neither triumphant nor tragic; rather, it is an acceptance, a conscious decision forged in the crucible of betrayal and survival.
As the couple walks forward, fully aware of their chosen path, one cannot help but reflect on the paradox of it all. A system often deemed immoral, a practice shrouded in secrecy, has ultimately restored order. But at what cost?
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