Stranger Eyes Review: Lee Kang-sheng Infuses Drama with Intrigue and Unease

      Note: This review was initially published as part of our 2024 Venice coverage. Stranger Eyes will be released in theaters on August 29.

      I often struggle to write about performances. When I attempt to do so, it feels as though I am merely outlining an actor's actions––their speech, their movements––and the finest among them possess a talent for transforming those choices into an alchemical magic that renders all descriptions superfluous. However, there are some whose challenge is even greater because the films they inhabit are not only centered on them but also molded by their presence, as if their essence has shaped the film's very fabric. Lee Kang-sheng is one such rare actor, and his artistry makes every word seem insufficient. I find it impossible to adequately convey the image of him gazing out the window in the opening scenes of Tsai Ming-Liang's Days, or strolling at a sluggish pace wrapped in a monk’s orange robe in the director’s Walker series. I can only express the serene energy he emanates and what it instills in me: a profound sense of tranquility. In every film I've watched him in––be it by Tsai or the few directors he has collaborated with over the years––Lee has always seemed to embody a state of being "suspended," possessing an untimely essence that starkly contrasts with the fast-paced tempo of our times, making him feel almost otherworldly. His gaze distinguishes him from our 21st-century existence, hinting at a much older, deeply philosophical way of experiencing the world.

      I believe Siew Hua Yeo shares this sentiment––his latest film, Stranger Eyes, thrives on the unique anachronism that Lee exudes. The actor portrays Wu, a voyeur equipped with a DVC camera who observes a couple residing in a flat across the street. The couple consists of Junyang (Wu Chien-ho) and Peiying (Anicca Panna), a young father and mother whose baby mysteriously disappeared in broad daylight. Months later, a series of DVDs arrive at their home, containing footage recorded by Wu in the days leading up to the child's disappearance. Is he the one responsible for this vanishing? This premise evokes Michael Haneke’s Caché: a stranger haunting a family and gradually unveiling their secrets. In Stranger Eyes, every character either spies or is watched––often both. The theme of sight prevails, as Yeo frequently frames his characters fixated on screens: Junyang and Peiying holding their breath while watching the anonymous clips; the police scrutinizing CCTV footage from around their flat; and Wu himself, entranced by his own recordings in silence.

      In a film so focused on our contemporary media landscape––the manner in which we create and consume images of one another––Lee enters Stranger Eyes as a peculiar anomaly. There exists a stark juxtaposition between the clinical lens of CCTV cameras and the actor's own gaze, showing the divergent ways in which surveillance captures reality compared to how Lee's Wu interprets it. I don't mean to diminish the performances of Wu and Panna; the former, in particular, embodies a restless intensity, and his evolution from being the object of Wu's obsession to a voyeur himself is largely effective. Nevertheless, Stranger Eyes is fundamentally Lee's film. Whether or not Yeo envisioned the character with him in mind, I can't conceive of a more fitting actor to illustrate the divide that propels the film: the different perspectives of observation, the age-old fears that persist, and the cutting-edge technologies used to illuminate them.

      “Everything’s so advanced nowadays, yet we still haven’t figured out how to raise children,” a character jests midway through. “It’s absurd!” This absurdity, along with the way Lee embodies it, is arguably more captivating than the narrative itself. Despite its plot twists, Yeo’s script struggles to maintain its momentum, burdened as it is with secrets and backstories that feel less enlightening and more formulaic. This critique can also be directed at his previous film, the Locarno-winning A Land Imagined from 2018, which also dealt with absence yet fell into predictable patterns. Similarly, Stranger Eyes suffers from the same predictability that undermined Yeo’s earlier work, departing from its air of mystery to pursue a more conventional tale of estranged love.

      Perhaps this is why Lee’s presence feels so revitalizing. To paraphrase a line from Terence Davies’ A Quiet Passion, he doesn’t merely demonstrate, but reveals. While Stranger Eyes seems intent on unraveling its intricacies, framing the relationship between Junyang, Peiying, and Wu as interdependent, Lee's character remains refreshingly enigmatic. In a largely wordless performance, he plays a Peeping Tom captivated by the footage he captures. Yeo often depicts people as spectators, fixated on TVs, laptops, and phones. However, it is only when the audience consists of Wu alone that the film achieves