For as long as there have been relationships, there have also been affairs. It is perhaps one of the most durable narrative devices, so universal that just about anyone can find a perspective into such a story. To this, Elizabeth Lo’s Mistress Dispeller brings quite the intriguing concept: a Chinese service that women can hire to get their husbands to break up with their mistresses, thus preserving their marriage. While the film is well-made, it doesn’t penetrate the surface of such a compelling concept, rarely managing to locate the kind of drama that one imagines would be easily manufactured in a narrative take on this story.
This is perhaps due to form; Lo shoots proceedings in a strictly observational nature, with no talking heads or otherwise direct acknowledgements of the camera crew, save a moment at the end. This leads to a lack of context on whether such agencies are popular in China and why they might flourish compared to other options. What we do know is that the husband––Mr. Li––does not want to get a divorce, and the couple doesn’t appear to be encountering any severe issues; Mrs. Li’s brother describes them as the type to walk around holding hands and play badminton together. They have gone to the agency of Teacher Wang to help save Mrs. Li’s marriage, and she details part of how this deception will unfold.
One can easily imagine the reality TV version of this––even a fictional take––in which one of this trio becomes the villain, leading to a superficial satisfaction but not much enlightenment. Lo’s greatest success is in extending sympathy to all subjects––including the mistress herself, known as both Zhou and Fei Fei. Some of the documentary’s most compelling passages include her discussions with Teacher Wang about her own sense of self-worth, and how she doesn’t feel as though she deserves full love even while recognizing Mr. Li isn’t going to leave his wife for her. In a way, it’s a rather mature view of a messy situation that is rendered subdued at times. There won’t be any sparks or flare-ups, and while on some level the lack of such clichés is refreshing, it also means the film just glides along.
The biggest issue may, in fact, be an unsolvable one of ethics. Wang’s method relies on deception, and Lo has detailed their filming process, which included hiding the true nature of the project from Mr. Li and Zhou, as well as going through several couples before finding one that would work. By the end, everyone was aware of what the project was and had given their full consent. But it also raises the question of how much is staged. When, exactly, did the subjects discover the true intent of the documentary? What did they think the cameras were for?
Because the filmmakers need to protect the privacy of those involved, there’s simply not much we can glean about the subjects’ personalities or histories, leaving them to come across like ciphers. Lo never quite broaches the business side of things, and we’re left wondering how Teacher Wang’s publicity might affect her ability to provide services in the future. The result is a narrative that feels universal but lacks a sense of emotion or heat; we never find a reason to invest in whether Li’s relationship will survive or whether Zhou will land on her feet. For all that the film proposes to convey about a unique industry and intimate access, we’re left with a lot of pretty surfaces made all the more frustrating by how close it brushes something greater.
Mistress Dispeller opens in theaters on Wednesday, October 22.