Jao nok krajok (Mundane History, 2009)

There’s something to Anocha Suwichakornpong’s filmmaking, a sort of dreamy, elliptical oddness that has long stretches of quiet watchfulness (long takes with a fairly static camera, though often handheld so a bit shaky)… but then there are these little flares of strangeness (and I still can’t help but thinking about fellow Thai filmmaker Apichatpong Weerasethakul in this regard). This is a story of two men: Ake, from a rich family, who has mobility issues (Phakpoom Surapongsanuruk); and the other, Pun (Arkaney Cherkam), his carer, from somewhat lower down the rungs of society. There’s almost an upstairs-downstairs dynamic (we also see the family’s cook), but that’s not really dwelt upon. What unfolds is largely this slow evolution of feeling between the two, with sort of mystical asides to astronomy and an unexpected scene of childbirth at the end (even the appearance of the opening credits 15 minutes in took me by surprise). I can’t explain what it’s doing, but it’s interesting enough for me to want to watch more by the same filmmaker (her more recent film By the Time It Gets Dark had much the same effect on me).


FILM REVIEW
Director/Writer Anocha Suwichakornpong | Cinematographer Ming-Kai Leung | Starring Arkaney Cherkam, Phakpoom Surapongsanuruk | Length 82 minutes || Seen at home (DVD), London, Wednesday 1 March 2017

LFF 2016 Day Ten

Ramping up to the final weekend, I had my first day of four films on Friday 14 October. All were at least interesting, and some were excellent. All four featured their directors doing a Q&A, though time constraints meant I sadly couldn’t stay for the first one (and the one I’d most have wanted to listen to).


La Permanence (On Call, 2016)

La Permanence (On Call) (2016, France, dir. Alice Diop)
There’s a very simple setup to this documentary: a consulting room at a Parisian hospital visited by a stream of refugees seeking medical attention, one of the few places they can receive such care. The doctor on call patiently deals with the people he sees (supported by a psychiatrist), but the team clearly have access to only limited resources (they even run out of prescription pads at one point). The camera films one side of the table or the other, but it’s the faces that dominate, and we see some return in happier circumstances than their original visit, but this is by no means always the case. It’s clear sighted and quietly powerful about the troubles people have experienced, and the further bureaucratic hoops we require them to jump through. [****]


Le Fils de Joseph (The Son of Joseph, 2016)

Le Fils de Joseph (The Son of Joseph) (2016, France/Belgium, dir./wr. Eugène Green, DOP Raphaël O’Byrne)
This latest film is stylistically of a piece with Green’s other work that I’ve seen — which is to say, denaturalised acting, deadpan delivery, frontal framings, aiming for an exaltation of the text over any kind of actorly psychology. If you’re on-board with his project there’s plenty to like here, and a lot that’s quite funny too (my favourite was the utterly self-regarding young author at the start, and Maria de Madeiros’s literary critic tottering into a police standoff clutching a champagne flute). It’s about a young man without a father who is searching for one, manages to loop in a fugitive-on-the-run storyline, and then overlays a Christian allegory as the structuring device. The literary world doesn’t come out looking great, but plenty of the individual shots in the film do. [***½]


Dao Khanong (By the Time It Gets Dark, 2016)Dao Khanong (By the Time It Gets Dark) (2016, Thailand/France/Netherlands/Qatar, dir./wr. Anocha Suwichakornpong, DOP Ming-Kai Leung)
When you structure your film to have the logic of a waking dream or a memory flashback — and in this the film shares a lot of the same power as last year’s Cemetery of Splendour by fellow Thai filmmaker Apichatpong Weerasethakul — it can have the unfortunate effect of lulling a viewer who is watching it at one of those awkward times of the evening into a bit of a doze (I’m talking about me). I therefore had the uneasy feeling of not really knowing what was happening and wondering if there was something crucial I had missed in the few minutes I had my eyes shut, but at length I realised that no, this is just the film, and the effect is entirely intentional. It also points up the absurdity of assigning films star ratings, because it looks like I’ve given it a low score, but actually this is probably the film I’d most like to revisit. It has a tricksy looping structure which replays some scenes with different actors, which seems to present its characters’ stories alongside fragments of their memory, dramatic recreations and even music videos, to further confound any easy narrative understanding. There is, though, an intellect at work, questioning historical representation, the play of memory, the ethics of filmmaking, and any number of other subjects. In short, for all its gently undulating rhythms (the sound design emphasises the low hum of machinery, fans, or blowing wind throughout), it represents some pretty exciting filmmaking. [***]


Zin'naariya! (The Wedding Ring, 2016)

Zin’naariya! (The Wedding Ring) (2016, Niger, dir./wr. Rahmatou Keïta)
Like Laos the other day, Niger is another country you don’t see many films from, given its lack of a film industry, or indeed much in the way of a film culture. So it’s all the more reason to celebrate that not only has a film been made there, it’s directed by a woman, it looks gorgeous, and it was entirely funded by African money. A young woman (played by the director’s daughter) has returned from studying in France, lovelorn over the boyfriend she met there who himself has returned to his homeplace. She retains hopes of marrying him, as her family use whatever means they can to help bring them together — although this largely involves a local mystic who reads the patterns in shells. In truth the story moves along at a fairly unhurried pace, but the actors (not least the lead) do a great job in making the film watchable, and the camera can’t help but find light and colour wherever it looks in this small tightly-knit community. The focus is on the women in the community above all, and their laughter and wisdom keeps the film moving through some slower patches. [***]

LFF: Rak ti Khon Kaen (Cemetery of Splendour, 2015)

BFI London Film Festival This film was presented at the London Film Festival, introduced by the film’s director alongside the director of the Festival. There was a Q&A session afterwards as well. In his introduction, Weerasethakul joked that we might fall asleep during the film (a play on its thematic content, see below), but as it was a late screening and I’d had a few glasses of wine, I did drift off for some short periods, so the review (more than usual) should be taken as provisional.


Like many of Thai director Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s films, this newest one (ostensibly his last to be made in his home country) is imbued with a deep sense of mystery even as it seems on the surface fairly straightforward. Jenjira Pongpas plays a woman with the same name who is a carer at a rural hospital looking after sick soldiers, including Itt (one of the director’s regular stars, Banlop Lomnoi). The nature of the soldiers’ illness is rather oblique but they have a sort of sleeping sickness that renders them comatose. Others who work there embrace spiritualism and faith-based healing, and Jenjira is certainly receptive to this, praying at a local shrine for the health of her wounded leg. One of the princesses to whom the shrine is dedicated comes to her and shows her hidden features of the local area, including a royal palace and a cemetery under the hospital. As these plot details accrue, the line between reality and the dream world is blurred, in very subtle ways — the different states are almost entirely intertwined with one another with only slight visual clues indicating the non-naturalistic nature of this resulting world. Both Jen and the audience are drawn into an imaginary landscape, which is apparently intended as a critique of the ruling regime in Thailand and their call to patriotic royalist feelings and relying heavily on appeals to a syncretic pantheistic religious practice — or at least, this is my provisional response to one viewing of the film, myself partially under the influence of sleep. It’s a fascinating work, perhaps one of Weerasethakul’s strongest, and I shall certainly be seeking out another viewing when it is released properly.


FILM FESTIVAL FILM REVIEW: London Film Festival
Director/Writer Apichatpong Weerasethakul | Cinematographer Diego Garcia | Starring Jenjira Pongpas, Banlop Lomnoi | Length 122 minutes || Seen at Vue West End, London, Tuesday 13 October 2015

Only God Forgives (2013)

A note on the title: The title card of the film is in Thai, subtitled into English. None of the online sources give me a transliteration of this title, but if I were following the rather pedantic rules I’ve been using on this blog, I would give the title in Thai.


NEW RELEASE FILM REVIEW || Director/Writer Nicolas Winding Refn | Cinematographer Larry Smith | Starring Ryan Gosling, Vithaya Pansringarm, Kristin Scott Thomas | Length 90 minutes | Seen at Cineworld Wood Green, London, Friday 2 August 2013 || My Rating 3.5 stars very good


© Lionsgate

There are undeniably words and ideas that, if you read (or indeed write) a lot of film/literary criticism, you find yourself coming across more often than one might expect in the real world. It often comes down to finding an apt adjective to try and grasp a sense of a film’s style or mood, and if any ever film was reliant on style and mood then it’s this one. And the chief adjective that comes into my addled brain is “oneiric”.

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Sud pralad (Tropical Malady, 2004)


SPECIAL SCREENING FILM REVIEW || Director/Writer Apichatpong Weerasethakul | Cinematographers Jarin Pengpanitch, Vichit Tanapanitch and Jean-Louis Vialard | Starring Sakda Kaewbuadee, Banlop Lomnoi | Length 125 minutes | Seen at Institute of Contemporary Arts, London, Sunday 24 October 2004 and Sunday 28 April 2013 || My Rating 2 stars worth seeing


© ICA Projects

There is no doubting that Tropical Malady is a strange film. It is perplexing and operates in registers that few films do, and thinking back on it I really want to like it for what it does, and for being so resolutely unlike other films. It is a film that pushes at the boundaries of what being human means, and what separates us from animals, but it does so in a demandingly oblique way, so much so that I’d actually seen the film nine years earlier but could not remember it at all (though that may just be my own memory being terrible).

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