AFS Doc Days ‘25: Mistress Dispeller

In documentary, the camera itself takes on a distinct and critical role. This is not to say the camera is below consideration in non-documentary films, but rather that watching, say, a horror movie, or a romance, requires a negation of the camera’s presence: we might appreciate the moves the camera makes, if we step back to evaluate the technical qualities of the film, but part of our suspension of disbelief involves, at least for the duration of the film, forgetting that a camera is showing us what we see. 

In documentary, sometimes we’re also encouraged to forget the camera, but it’s much more difficult to do so: the relationship between the viewer and film in documentary is more an assumption of veracity, that we’re being shown things as they actually happened. I find myself much more aware of the camera, as the act of recording is central to the documentary project, and by extension, much more aware of the person(s) behind the camera. That awareness sticks with me during the watching process in a way it doesn’t in fiction, and I find myself more sensitive to the framing of a shot in documentary, more interested in trying to puzzle out where the crew is when they’re not visible on camera. 

Image courtesy of https://www.mistressdispellerfilm.com/about 

In Mistress Dispeller, Elizabeth Lo’s (罗宝) second documentary feature, the camera feels almost absent, disappeared in the way of a narrative film. It’s a documentary shot like a romantic drama, specifically evoking the dreamy, languid camera most associated with slow cinema. Lo, in the post-screening Q&A at AFS Cinema’s Doc Days festival, named Wong Kar-Wai and Chantal Akerman as significant influences; Wong in particular is an evocative association as we follow the story of a wife, her husband, and her husband’s mistress, drawing out one of the most nuanced approaches to infidelity I’ve seen portrayed, nonfiction or otherwise.

The heart of Mistress Dispeller is Wang Zhenxi, known as Teacher Wang, a woman who works as a “mistress dispeller” in Luoyang, China. Mistress dispelling, per the documentary, is an emergent industry in China, dedicated to, as you might guess, breaking up affairs and preserving marriages. Wang works as part-marriage counselor, part-social engineer, part-confidente, and part-spy, hired by the fierce Mrs. Li who believes her husband has been having an affair. Mrs. Li introduces Teacher Wang to her husband as a new friend, and very quickly, Wang is able to coax Mr. Li to open up about his affair with the younger Fei Fei, a girl he met through his work. Maintaining the cover of a concerned friend, Wang begins to help Mr. Li break things off with Fei Fei—to whom she is introduced as Mr. Li’s cousin. 

For much of the film, you could even forget you’re watching a documentary, as Lo draws you in with the slow intimacy she builds with Teacher Wang and the Li family. They lay their hurt bare under Wang’s careful ministrations, following—and sometimes eschewing, to delightful effect—her instructions as she guides them toward resolution. We move between these close gatherings of Mrs. Li and Wang strategizing under their breath at the badminton court where the Lis play together; Fei Fei’s frustration at her boyfriend’s “cousin” suddenly rupturing their planned date; Mr. Li and Wang’s discussions of the affair and his struggle to decide what he wants. These scenes are intercut with long shots of China, the beautiful clusters of high-rise apartments and dense urban streets, the sweeping expanses of nature reserves, and even glimpses into other love-industries. A favorite of mine is a pair of shots of a row of young men, then young women, who, Lo revealed in the Q&A, were part of a “dating camp” Lo and her crew filmed during their time in China. 

Image courtesy of https://www.mistressdispellerfilm.com/about 

Drawing these moments together, Lo and editor Charlotte Munch Bengtsen (whose list of credits includes The Act of Killing) craft a deeply rewarding meditation on love: what we choose to do with love, and how those choices impact those around us, for better or worse. Even at its most heightened moments of tension, Mistress Dispeller never loses sight of its subjects’ humanity. That care pays off tenfold in the level of access we are allowed to the Lis relationship. A title card at the start of the film explains consent was granted twice by all of the subjects involved: first at the beginning of the process, and again after the film’s completion, as their understanding of who Teacher Wang was, and what the film was about, changed. That their consent was granted the second time, having seen the completed film, reflects the sensitivity Mistress Dispeller shows in depicting not just a love triangle, but a love triangle bound up in cheating and deception. The mistress, even dispelled, is not villainized. She is, as Teacher Wang tells us, hurting too; she remains a person, not a monster, in Lo’s camera. 

Mistress Dispeller is a feat of documentary filmmaking, evidenced by the slate of awards it has picked up during its festival circuit. Approaching through a narrative lens, rather than creating distance, allows Lo to bring us in closer, to see the vulnerability of her subjects on screen in a way that feels all too rare in the documentary field. It is deeply, deeply human, honest in both the moments of joy and anguish, not shying away or glossing over the messy, selfish, mean ways we love and get loved in return.

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