I suppose the closest we ever get to any sort stone wall narrative form in this, Apichatpong Weerasethakul's quite audacious and quite breathtaking film, happens rather simplistically in the opening exchanges before being put out to pasture by a very deliberate, very obvious installation of Weerasethakul's then-on presence as a director. When we begin on a lone ox tied to a tree in the Thai jungle, the film establishes a 'character' occupying a world and living a lifestyle it seems disenchanted with in its moaning and yearning. Then, it breaks free – a fleeting shot of some nearby humans pausing for a rest the establishment of those whom not only imprison, but informing us of what's at stake if this bovine should fail. The ox runs off, trudging through the jungle as best it can attempting to escape its captors, although is out done by those men, before at last it is defeated and returned back to the makeshift camp.
On an elemental level, the film here adheres to a very basic; very primitive narrative. A protagonist is in a situation and has an opinion on their surroundings before instigating a catalyst; taking off on what is a crude example of a crucible journeying away from these surroundings before a resolution to proceedings sees things lead onto a new order, which happens to be the sad old one. As the episode comes to an end, Weerasethakul implements his own presence on proceedings; a rejection of such narratively imbued conventions in his providing us with a lingering shot on a beastly looking figure breaking the fourth wall and harbouring bright red eyes. The director has arrived, he identifies mythical story telling in its most basic of forms and will now proceed to entirely reject it via the arrival of this uncanny presence we did not at all expect to see.
His film, Uncle Boonmee Who Can Remember His Past Lives, is more a mediation on death and the afterlife with some funny moments; the odd dramatic one and a whole bunch of other stuff so rich in symbolism that one could watch it several times and either come up with a different meaning each occasion or just remain dumb-founded, than it is something depicting characters and telling stories operating with genres. The film's rejection of most of the above arrives under a number of different guises, ranging from the seemingly innocuous title of the company funding the project in the form of "Kick the Machine Productions" (a seemingly slight reference to the "Hollywood machine" most people refer to such a thing as), to the stark photographic image of the young boy clad in some very obvious American linked; American orientated Levi clothing throwing stones, and therefore turning away, Weerasethakul's vision or ideas or presence as was previously established when the intended target is revealed as that of the off-screen beastly red eyed being.
At a remote Thai fruit and honey plantation, the titular Boonmee (Saisaymar) is visited by his sister and a few other family members after a long car journey. Boonmee, despite the verbal hopes that he'll be perfectly fine, is on the way to death's door; this coming together a sweet enough way to spend time together as a family unit until tragedy strikes. From a simple enough premise, during which the standard Weerasethakul practises of drawn out takes during the car journey and unbroken dialogue sequences on anything at all make themselves known, the extraordinary and the unfathomable are implemented; most of what happens literally impossible in any sort of 'real' sense but played out with degrees of interest and relying solely on one's ability to foresee into the various depths of symbolism that are on show.
Whilst at the plantation, Boonmee's long since dead son shows up in a different guise and is revealed as the monstrous, red-eyed presence. His death was more broadly linked to that of going too far in trying figure out what it is he saw in a two dimensional image; the reading into, and getting to the bottom of, what he saw but could not understand having taken a photograph in some dense jungle of an odd animal in the trees, syncing up with our own task in having to read into the images Weerasethakul places on screen in front of us so as to demythify. On two other occasions on seemingly disconnected strands, a princess will speak of how ugly she perceives herself to be beside a lagoon housing a smooth-talking catfish; itself a non-dualism alluding to the ugly/beautiful transition the princess wishes to undertake – her venturing into the watery lagoon to change her characteristics a literal cleansing via the water as she removes various garments thus stripping herself of a prior 'type' in order to become another. This presence of water as a means of cleanliness to shift personas later transpires in a rundown apartment when a young monk has fled his monastery to go home, a shower with the emphasis on some blank white tiles during this process, as he comes out afterwards dressed casually and out of his monk clothing, another visual clue to a notion of purifying oneself of prior preconceptions and into something new.
At the film's core is a thoroughly enjoyable series of episodes, all of them wholly imbued with a sense of iconography and deeper meaning taking centre stage. They arrive with this well timed sense of theological comedy peppering proceedings, something which suggests Weerasethakul is a grounded enough man not unable to execute what it is he makes without a light hearted attitude, thus keeping him well away from any accusations of pomposity or pretentiousness. The film is a grandeur, cascading experience unlike most things that are currently out there without Weerasethakul's name already on it and a mediative experience; the likes of which ought really be tracked down if only for the varying insights and observing of a man with immense confidence in his craft.
On an elemental level, the film here adheres to a very basic; very primitive narrative. A protagonist is in a situation and has an opinion on their surroundings before instigating a catalyst; taking off on what is a crude example of a crucible journeying away from these surroundings before a resolution to proceedings sees things lead onto a new order, which happens to be the sad old one. As the episode comes to an end, Weerasethakul implements his own presence on proceedings; a rejection of such narratively imbued conventions in his providing us with a lingering shot on a beastly looking figure breaking the fourth wall and harbouring bright red eyes. The director has arrived, he identifies mythical story telling in its most basic of forms and will now proceed to entirely reject it via the arrival of this uncanny presence we did not at all expect to see.
His film, Uncle Boonmee Who Can Remember His Past Lives, is more a mediation on death and the afterlife with some funny moments; the odd dramatic one and a whole bunch of other stuff so rich in symbolism that one could watch it several times and either come up with a different meaning each occasion or just remain dumb-founded, than it is something depicting characters and telling stories operating with genres. The film's rejection of most of the above arrives under a number of different guises, ranging from the seemingly innocuous title of the company funding the project in the form of "Kick the Machine Productions" (a seemingly slight reference to the "Hollywood machine" most people refer to such a thing as), to the stark photographic image of the young boy clad in some very obvious American linked; American orientated Levi clothing throwing stones, and therefore turning away, Weerasethakul's vision or ideas or presence as was previously established when the intended target is revealed as that of the off-screen beastly red eyed being.
At a remote Thai fruit and honey plantation, the titular Boonmee (Saisaymar) is visited by his sister and a few other family members after a long car journey. Boonmee, despite the verbal hopes that he'll be perfectly fine, is on the way to death's door; this coming together a sweet enough way to spend time together as a family unit until tragedy strikes. From a simple enough premise, during which the standard Weerasethakul practises of drawn out takes during the car journey and unbroken dialogue sequences on anything at all make themselves known, the extraordinary and the unfathomable are implemented; most of what happens literally impossible in any sort of 'real' sense but played out with degrees of interest and relying solely on one's ability to foresee into the various depths of symbolism that are on show.
Whilst at the plantation, Boonmee's long since dead son shows up in a different guise and is revealed as the monstrous, red-eyed presence. His death was more broadly linked to that of going too far in trying figure out what it is he saw in a two dimensional image; the reading into, and getting to the bottom of, what he saw but could not understand having taken a photograph in some dense jungle of an odd animal in the trees, syncing up with our own task in having to read into the images Weerasethakul places on screen in front of us so as to demythify. On two other occasions on seemingly disconnected strands, a princess will speak of how ugly she perceives herself to be beside a lagoon housing a smooth-talking catfish; itself a non-dualism alluding to the ugly/beautiful transition the princess wishes to undertake – her venturing into the watery lagoon to change her characteristics a literal cleansing via the water as she removes various garments thus stripping herself of a prior 'type' in order to become another. This presence of water as a means of cleanliness to shift personas later transpires in a rundown apartment when a young monk has fled his monastery to go home, a shower with the emphasis on some blank white tiles during this process, as he comes out afterwards dressed casually and out of his monk clothing, another visual clue to a notion of purifying oneself of prior preconceptions and into something new.
At the film's core is a thoroughly enjoyable series of episodes, all of them wholly imbued with a sense of iconography and deeper meaning taking centre stage. They arrive with this well timed sense of theological comedy peppering proceedings, something which suggests Weerasethakul is a grounded enough man not unable to execute what it is he makes without a light hearted attitude, thus keeping him well away from any accusations of pomposity or pretentiousness. The film is a grandeur, cascading experience unlike most things that are currently out there without Weerasethakul's name already on it and a mediative experience; the likes of which ought really be tracked down if only for the varying insights and observing of a man with immense confidence in his craft.