Memoria.
Directed by Apichatpong Weerasethakul
Starring Tilda Swinton, Jeanne Balibar, Elkin Diaz, Juan Pablo Urrigo and Daniel Gimenez Cacho. Partly subtitled. 137 mins.
In the Champions League of world cinema, every part of the world has its one designated auteur (apart from a few more lucrative markets such as France, Italy, Japan and Korea which may have three or four entrants) who get to battle it out every season at Cannes and the like. At these pageants, the judges mark them according to solemnity, slowness and obscurity. Representing Thailand and surrounding South East Asian territories is Apichatpong Weerasethakul. In slow and inscrutable films like Syndromes and A Century, Cemetary of Splendour and Cannes winner Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall Past Lives he has marked himself out as a world cinema heavyweight with an incredibly light touch.
After a decade or so there comes the necessity to reach out from the subtitled world and make your first English language film. Weerasethakul has blurred the lines somewhat by turning up in Colombia and making their official submission for the Oscars while having around half the dialogue in English. As the big name conduit to wider recognition he’s secured the services of Tilda Swinton, who clearly takes the responsibility very seriously: she isn’t doing fancy dress for this film
In the opening scene, she is woken by a loud primal noise. She starts to hear it repeatedly and becomes obsessed with finding out what it is. She describes it as a kind of sonic boom, though to me it could be the sound of a squash ball echoing around a court.
Weerasethakul approach is much like the Grenadiers guarding Royal premises who are not allowed to react to anything around them. When he fixes his camera on something, nothing is allowed to break that concentration. He'll stare it out until something reveal itself.
This is a film whose best scene is someone taking a quick nap. Don’t scoff, it is genuinely mesmerizing. The film teeters between tedium and static transcendence and each viewer will have their own judgment as to the balance. For me, during the first hour and a half it seemed that Weerasethakul’s change of location had thrown him, causing him to fall back on standard arthouse wankery. It felt like a poor imitation of a Carlos Reygardos, the Mexican auteur. But in its last third, the film takes off, becomes something rather unique and glorious.
And take it from somebody who didn’t: this is definitely one to be seen on the big screen. I watched it over a top secret, highly confidential, screening link which had my name watermarked across the screen in big white letters, just so I didn’t forget my own name while watching the film. (Always an issue.) I’m not necessarily the biggest Tilda fan but I think she deserves better than to have her face obscured by the big white L of Michael.
Directed by Apichatpong Weerasethakul
Starring Tilda Swinton, Jeanne Balibar, Elkin Diaz, Juan Pablo Urrigo and Daniel Gimenez Cacho. Partly subtitled. 137 mins.
In the Champions League of world cinema, every part of the world has its one designated auteur (apart from a few more lucrative markets such as France, Italy, Japan and Korea which may have three or four entrants) who get to battle it out every season at Cannes and the like. At these pageants, the judges mark them according to solemnity, slowness and obscurity. Representing Thailand and surrounding South East Asian territories is Apichatpong Weerasethakul. In slow and inscrutable films like Syndromes and A Century, Cemetary of Splendour and Cannes winner Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall Past Lives he has marked himself out as a world cinema heavyweight with an incredibly light touch.
After a decade or so there comes the necessity to reach out from the subtitled world and make your first English language film. Weerasethakul has blurred the lines somewhat by turning up in Colombia and making their official submission for the Oscars while having around half the dialogue in English. As the big name conduit to wider recognition he’s secured the services of Tilda Swinton, who clearly takes the responsibility very seriously: she isn’t doing fancy dress for this film
In the opening scene, she is woken by a loud primal noise. She starts to hear it repeatedly and becomes obsessed with finding out what it is. She describes it as a kind of sonic boom, though to me it could be the sound of a squash ball echoing around a court.
Weerasethakul approach is much like the Grenadiers guarding Royal premises who are not allowed to react to anything around them. When he fixes his camera on something, nothing is allowed to break that concentration. He'll stare it out until something reveal itself.
This is a film whose best scene is someone taking a quick nap. Don’t scoff, it is genuinely mesmerizing. The film teeters between tedium and static transcendence and each viewer will have their own judgment as to the balance. For me, during the first hour and a half it seemed that Weerasethakul’s change of location had thrown him, causing him to fall back on standard arthouse wankery. It felt like a poor imitation of a Carlos Reygardos, the Mexican auteur. But in its last third, the film takes off, becomes something rather unique and glorious.
And take it from somebody who didn’t: this is definitely one to be seen on the big screen. I watched it over a top secret, highly confidential, screening link which had my name watermarked across the screen in big white letters, just so I didn’t forget my own name while watching the film. (Always an issue.) I’m not necessarily the biggest Tilda fan but I think she deserves better than to have her face obscured by the big white L of Michael.
