Syndromes and a Century

Apichatpong Weerasethakul's Syndromes and a Century (2006) continues the director's "traditions": long shots, slow pace and the lack of conflict in the plot. The film is Weerasethakul's own take on how his parents (both of them doctors) met and it is partly based on his memories of growing up in a hospital. The story is divided into two segments which share similar scenes and the same actors (and characters to some degree as well). The "repeated" scenes are however set in different locations and they are viewed from a different point of view (or the result might even be completely changed sometimes). A scene is repeated only one at most, and even then in different segments - so it isnt exactly the modern Last Year at Marienbad. 

The director seems to long for the past because the first segment that takes place notably earlier than the second is treated with more care. The second segment feels more like a piece of sharp social criticism with people acting more like machines and all the characters seem to be so isolated from others. The repetition of similar moments heavily punctuate the narrative, and they also provide a refreshing way to approach the content. It is truthful to say that the film is about the power of memory, but that statement makes the film sound a lot more simple than it really is. The film's content shoots at a lot of direction and thus its content is a bit confusing and nigh impossible to describe perfectly.

The film's dreamlike and hypnotic form deserves a lot of praise. Weerasethakul shows he has the talent and confidence to masterfully use long shots. His use of sound should not be forgotten because it plays a subtle yet significant part in setting the mood for the whole film. The compositions are stunning and I would say the film is worth watching even if it was only for the awesome cinematography.

In overall, Syndromes and a Century is an impressive and experimental film which I would recommend watching if its "meditativeness" doesnt bother you.

Score: 9 out of 10

Tropical Malady

Apichatpong Weerasethakul's Tropical Malady (2004) is divided into two sections. One is set in modern world and it is closely in touch with reality, but the other handles fantasy and mythology in a peculiar way. These two separate stories are mostly connected by their focus on desire and both of them portray only one central relationship. The first segment is the story of a soldier (Banlop Lomnoi) falls in love with a country boy (Sakda Kaewbuadee) who seems to give some sort of affection in return, but it is never specified if it is love. The second segment focuses on a Thai myth in which a soldier chases a tiger in the jungle.

It is interesting how Weerasethakul creates a "discussion" between these two stories. This active connection between the two stories makes them a bit deeper and more fascinating. It is interesting to see the similarities in the central relationships (soldier+country boy, soldier+tiger). Weerasethakul throws in some distracting elements, like a cautionary tale in the first segment, and the awkward bits of mythology in second one. While the mythology serves as one of the key factors to support the segment's elements of fantasy, it is too vocally pointed at without it being a major element. It even reaches (unintentionally?) comical levels when a monkey starts speaking and offers some proper advice for the soldier. This film left me a bit puzzled: in a way, I could appreciate it for its poetic approach, but it isnt completely solid in that aspect.

Weerasethakul's form consists of long, static shots and usually there is no music to accompany the cinematography. Tropical Malady makes a few exceptions in the first segment: it includes a few off-beat sequences filled with music, and there are a few occasions in which the camera moves a lot. While the cinematography isnt necessarily great in Tropical Malady, its use of sound is brilliant. The silence is effective, and in the second segment the jungle literally becomes alive. It is a great sensory experience.

Typical Malady is a nice experimental film, but in the end it is uneven and lacks the finishing touch.

Score: 6 out of 10

Goodbye, Dragon Inn

Tsai Ming-liang's Goodbye, Dragon Inn (2003) is the director's tribute to cinema. A movie theater is about to be closed and for the last day a special screening for old films is held. We see vague characters wandering around the silent, ugly and trashy theater.

There are two characters that the narrative follows most of the time. The first is called "Ticket Woman" (in the credits, at least) who takes care of the theater along with the projectionist seen at the end of the film. She limbs along hallways and climbs up and down stairs very slowly. Some sort of a romantic relationship is suggested between her and the projectionist, but it is never directly implied. The other "main character" is a shy man who tries to make contact with the other people watching films, but to some degree fails in the end. There are also a few other people often seen in the film. I would like to mention two elderly men who shed tears at the end of the screening. I interpret that as them mourning for the loss of cinema.

I think it tells a lot about the "nature" of this film that there is almost no dialogue. If you dont count the dialogue coming from the film(s) they watch, there are roughly 10 lines spoken- in fact, it might actually be less than 10 lines. The ticket woman's slow movement and the silence emphasize the "death of cinema" (or the death of cinema-going experience) Tsai tries to portray in this film.

The film lingers on carefully framed shots for minutes and there isn't a lot that happens onscreen. For example, there is a 5-minute shot of an empty theater which felt like Tsai's true moment of respectful silence for cinema. The camera never moves and the few cuts set the film for a really calm and slow pace that annoys some viewers. This is why there are people who criticize the film for being "too boring", but for me it is the complete opposite. The respectful and honest take on a nostalgic subject kept me glued to the screen. Even the 30's Mandarin pop song at the end of the film is closely tied to the idea of "dying cinema" because it's a song about how hard yet bittersweet it is to let go of the past.

Despite being so calm and silent, there are a few moments that are absurdly hilarious. It is Tsai's trademark to have these moments of comedy gold in middle of a quiet film. Most of these funny bits come from the lack of communication (or failed attempts to communicate) between the characters in the film.

Goodbye, Dragon Inn isn't easy to watch by modern blockbuster standards. But if you are willing to give it a chance, you will find a bittersweet and caring tribute for cinema. It is a truly stunning film.

Score: 10 out of 10