Rating: ★★★★★ (5/5)
Growing older changes many things. The body becomes weaker, movement becomes more difficult, and the independence once taken for granted can suddenly disappear. But age does not erase a person’s desires, fantasies, or need to feel alive. Society often looks at older people as though this part of their existence is already over. Yet what happens when the body is no longer what it used to be, while the mind continues to seek pleasure without apology?
Directed by Wayne Wang and adapted from Jun’ichirō Tanizaki’s novel, Diary of a Mad Old Man explores that question through a relationship that is beautiful, unsettling, sensual, and strange at the same time.
Utsugi, played brilliantly by Lily Franky, suffers a stroke the night before his 69th birthday. The left side of his body remains paralyzed, and his speech is no longer as clear as it once was. He requires assistance with the most basic parts of his life and believes that the stroke has reduced him to a miserable physical state. Yet Utsugi is determined to continue living with the body he has been given. His body may no longer function as it did before, but he promises himself that he will continue accepting pleasure—even if that pleasure leads him toward perversion.
When the rest of the family prepares to leave for a summer holiday, Utsugi chooses to remain at home with his daughter-in-law, Susu, played by Fan Bingbing, as his caregiver. What develops between them is not easy to define. Utsugi watches Susu constantly, and she can see and feel his gaze even when he tries to remain as restrained as possible. At one point, Susu tells him that she should not be around him because his blood pressure rises whenever she is near. Her presence excites him emotionally and physically, turning every interaction between them into something potentially dangerous for his already fragile health.
However, Susu is not simply an object of his desire. After learning that her husband, Jōkichi, is cheating on her, she begins to understand her own position within the family differently. She recognizes Utsugi’s fascination with her and gradually allows him to release the sensual desires he has been attempting to control. Yet most of their intimate moments are left to the viewer’s imagination. Wayne Wang understands that what remains unseen can be more powerful than what is shown directly.
That is what makes the film’s sensuality so effective. It does not rely on explicit scenes or conventional romantic gestures. Instead, it builds intimacy through gazes, pauses, physical proximity, small acts of care, and the unspoken understanding between two people. It captures desire with a subtlety and boldness that Hollywood films rarely achieve.
Utsugi’s feelings for Susu also go far beyond physical attraction. He deeply cares for, admires, and cherishes her as though she were the only blossoming flower in the entire world. Although he is 69, his understanding of Susu and what she truly wants may be deeper than that of the younger people around her. Their connection is unconventional and morally complicated, but it is also filled with tenderness. That contradiction is what makes their relationship so fascinating.
The film moves slowly, but that is precisely the point. Wayne Wang’s writing and direction refuse to rush through Utsugi and Susu’s emotional development. The 119-minute running time gives us the opportunity to understand their individual feelings and watch how their relationship gradually progresses. Every look and moment of silence carries meaning. The story needs that time because the connection between them cannot be explained through a few simple scenes.
The acting is incredible, powerful, and flawless. Lily Franky gives Utsugi vulnerability, humour, and emotional complexity, while Fan Bingbing makes Susu mysterious, confident, and impossible to look away from. Together, they fully embrace the complicated nature of their characters and make this unusual relationship feel authentic.
Utsugi understands that everyone grows old and eventually dies, and that sometimes all one has left is to laugh. While others may believe that how a person is buried is unimportant, for him it becomes the most important matter of all. His pleasure and perversion reach their ultimate expression through the fantasy of Susu’s feet trampling upon him.
He does not merely want to live according to his desires. He wants his death—and even his burial—to become a continuation of who he was. Diary of a Mad Old Man delivers exceptionally well on this idea, showing that identity and desire do not simply disappear with age or death.
Wayne Wang has created a fearless, intimate, and beautifully performed film about aging, pleasure, devotion, and mortality. It refuses to judge its characters or provide simple answers. Instead, it asks us to recognize that the mind does not stop desiring merely because the body has grown old.
★★★★★