7.30.2005
apichatpong weerasethakul's tropical malady
i can't get tropical malady out of my head. it's been over a week since i've seen it, and i'm beginning to debate spending ten bucks to see it again when it opens here in philly. i'll attempt to explain why...
malady is told in two parts, which-- though stylistically quite distinct-- feed off one another in a circular sort of way. it begins with a slow-going gay love story involving a soldier and an elusive young man from a country town. following an essentially plotless (and strangely utopian) love affair, the couple eventually depart and the second act begins. here, the same two actors appear and keng, the soldier, appears to be playing the same role (?). the "second" narrative concerns a thai myth about a spirit inhabiting a jungle with the ability to transform into a tiger. keng enters the jungle to find the spirit-- which is (inexplicably) played by the same actor (sakda kaewbuadee) as the country boy in the first narrative.
for starters, i can't honestly think of a film with less conflict than tropical malady. its slow, naturalistic style bears similarities to the work of other contemporary asian filmmakers (hou hsiao-hsien, tsai ming-liang wong kar-wai, etc.), but contains none of the wistful blueness that activates such films. the first half of malady might be described as a very realistic fairly tale. the two men meet, fall in love, and spend its duration very casually enjoying one another's company. it is punctuated by occasional markings of slight artifice-- a cheesy bit of dialogue, a canned smile that lasts too long, etc. and yet, no snarky distance accompanies such details. the artifice might best be described as magnetic-- in that it reverses its conventional logic and makes the film experience more intimate. its meaning amplifies within its occasional fabrications, and the awkward fit deepens its strange, expansive trance. malady is a film that takes desire very seriously, but does so with an extreme reverence for the lightness of such a feeling. there is no blockage to its desire, and if the characters go unfulfilled (as one might argue they do at the end of the first segment) it is by way of their desire itself. this ever present sensation glides along its course throughout the film with a stubborn and enigmatic optimism that has to be seen to be properly believed.
the second half makes an initial rupture from the first, and merits comparisons to several canonical heavy-hitters (apocalypse now, tarkovsky's stalker, 2001:a a space odyssey, etc.). keng enters the jungle with all the fear and trembling accompanying a great quest. he finds tong naked and tattooed, ripe and ready for all sorts of animal/man archetypal explanations. i know zero about thai mythology, and am undoubtedly missing a very layered contextual dimension of the film here. but still-- and this might just be my western sense of entitlement speaking-- it doesn't seem to matter much, in the end. as keng and tong wrestle and stumble and transform one another, the experience generates a sense of engagement too visceral and emotional to refer back to allegorical justifications. the structure is different, but the sweetness and humility of its initial hour remains. which isn't to say that one isn't given much to think about. instead, for me, its meaning is bound up within the sense of transformation (be it literal, spiritual, emotional, or--most importantly-- spectatorial transformation). the point is not to scrutinize the couple's regression/exaltation, but to experience the very climate of that transformation. malady's jungle has a bit of the crowded magic of henri rousseau's landscapes-- a similar twilight wonder appears (minus the nineteenth-century western exoticism). it is the sort of space that reduces you to a kid at a campfire, eagerly and fearfully ready to believe in whatever magic might arise.
but tropical malady bears no monsters. it is a love story to rival the best of them, and its conclusion moves in the same direction as its introduction. too often, philosophically, desire is formulated as the enemy. it traditionally occupies the lower tier of human existence, in the shadow of such unlikely bedfellows as salvation, justice and transcendental aesthetics. in a sense, malady gives desire its moment in the clouds. its gentle force is both question and answer, inhabiting both the corporeal and psychological make-up of its beneficiaries, suggesting-- with great lightness and profoundity-- that one simply notice its presence, in all its profundity.
malady is told in two parts, which-- though stylistically quite distinct-- feed off one another in a circular sort of way. it begins with a slow-going gay love story involving a soldier and an elusive young man from a country town. following an essentially plotless (and strangely utopian) love affair, the couple eventually depart and the second act begins. here, the same two actors appear and keng, the soldier, appears to be playing the same role (?). the "second" narrative concerns a thai myth about a spirit inhabiting a jungle with the ability to transform into a tiger. keng enters the jungle to find the spirit-- which is (inexplicably) played by the same actor (sakda kaewbuadee) as the country boy in the first narrative.
for starters, i can't honestly think of a film with less conflict than tropical malady. its slow, naturalistic style bears similarities to the work of other contemporary asian filmmakers (hou hsiao-hsien, tsai ming-liang wong kar-wai, etc.), but contains none of the wistful blueness that activates such films. the first half of malady might be described as a very realistic fairly tale. the two men meet, fall in love, and spend its duration very casually enjoying one another's company. it is punctuated by occasional markings of slight artifice-- a cheesy bit of dialogue, a canned smile that lasts too long, etc. and yet, no snarky distance accompanies such details. the artifice might best be described as magnetic-- in that it reverses its conventional logic and makes the film experience more intimate. its meaning amplifies within its occasional fabrications, and the awkward fit deepens its strange, expansive trance. malady is a film that takes desire very seriously, but does so with an extreme reverence for the lightness of such a feeling. there is no blockage to its desire, and if the characters go unfulfilled (as one might argue they do at the end of the first segment) it is by way of their desire itself. this ever present sensation glides along its course throughout the film with a stubborn and enigmatic optimism that has to be seen to be properly believed.
the second half makes an initial rupture from the first, and merits comparisons to several canonical heavy-hitters (apocalypse now, tarkovsky's stalker, 2001:a a space odyssey, etc.). keng enters the jungle with all the fear and trembling accompanying a great quest. he finds tong naked and tattooed, ripe and ready for all sorts of animal/man archetypal explanations. i know zero about thai mythology, and am undoubtedly missing a very layered contextual dimension of the film here. but still-- and this might just be my western sense of entitlement speaking-- it doesn't seem to matter much, in the end. as keng and tong wrestle and stumble and transform one another, the experience generates a sense of engagement too visceral and emotional to refer back to allegorical justifications. the structure is different, but the sweetness and humility of its initial hour remains. which isn't to say that one isn't given much to think about. instead, for me, its meaning is bound up within the sense of transformation (be it literal, spiritual, emotional, or--most importantly-- spectatorial transformation). the point is not to scrutinize the couple's regression/exaltation, but to experience the very climate of that transformation. malady's jungle has a bit of the crowded magic of henri rousseau's landscapes-- a similar twilight wonder appears (minus the nineteenth-century western exoticism). it is the sort of space that reduces you to a kid at a campfire, eagerly and fearfully ready to believe in whatever magic might arise.
but tropical malady bears no monsters. it is a love story to rival the best of them, and its conclusion moves in the same direction as its introduction. too often, philosophically, desire is formulated as the enemy. it traditionally occupies the lower tier of human existence, in the shadow of such unlikely bedfellows as salvation, justice and transcendental aesthetics. in a sense, malady gives desire its moment in the clouds. its gentle force is both question and answer, inhabiting both the corporeal and psychological make-up of its beneficiaries, suggesting-- with great lightness and profoundity-- that one simply notice its presence, in all its profundity.
