Sean: I was pretty taken by this movie from the very beginning. I’m glad you chose it—seeing something with no preconceived notions can be excellent. Which in this case, it was.
Danny: What struck you in particular?
S: First off, the sound design. The focus on the ambient sound was stunning and gave the film a very clear sense of place and a naturalistic color. It reminds me a bit of Claire Denis, specifically L’intrus.
D: It’s interesting you bring up the ambient sound so immediately, because this movie, more than anything else I can think of, reminds me of the experience of listening to an ambient album. It requires your attention, it sustains the same note for challenging stretches, it’s almost worshipful in its simplicity…
S: The themes of the movie tie in quite a bit with a lot of the more naturalistic ambient music and sound art.
D: And then suddenly, it can turn and take you somewhere where you never expected to go.
S: A lot of that music and art focuses on the drone as a spiritual center, the om of the big bang, the peal of the bell, the hum of the wind over the mountain. Here, it was also the din of nature, which was an incredibly striking way of tying these people’s lives into the natural world.
D: I really like that you bring up the sound, because that’s something I didn’t focus on. Now I wish that I had concentrated on it more. But yeah, the way that Weerasethakul shot the scenes in nature was incredible. They seemed so otherworldly and intensely magical.
S: I noticed that they mention these sounds at some crucial points too.
D: It grounded his magic realism in some ways, because if he can make something so natural seems so alien, he can also make the alien seem natural. Do you remember what they said about sound?
S: Before Boonmee’s son shows up, Huay, the ghost of his wife, mentions the howling of the wind.
D: I love that description, especially because of what it forebodes. I wonder what the phrase would be in Thai, and if it’s just as evocative.
S: I think that focus on sound—as much as the static visual shots—does ground the realism, like you say. It also ties into the theme of man’s communion with nature. The constant sound of the wind, the birds, the bugs, the bees, the fish.
D: Yes, that’s definitely one of his central themes.
S: It was gorgeous the way he did it. It felt very patient, very gentle, for the most part.
D: Exactly. For me, this movie was all about pacing. As a Westerner, even one who watches many foreign films, it was quite an adjustment. I felt like I had to relearn how to watch a movie at times.
S: As I said, it reminded me of Denis, or even Kieslowski or Tarkovsky. Shots held long enough to force you to remove yourself from the flow of the narrative.
D: It’s interesting that you think of European directors. I thought more of people like Ozu or Hsiao-Hsien. Although they cover different terrain, they also focus on the small, the simple, the slow.
S: The Denis comparison also comes from the sickness. It’s treated in different ways by both directors, but both with a similarly patient style and emphasis on ambiance.
D: Not to get overly reductive with identity politics in every conversation, but I do think Weerasethakul’s Buddhism plays a huge role in his filmmaking. This is easily the most Buddhist movie I’ve ever seen. Both in its explicit themes and in the moviemaking itself.
S: It is, definitely.
D: Film as meditation. The Zen of deep attention.
S: It’s the rare film that, if you are willing to go with it, affects the changes in you that it means to encourage on a thematic level. Naturally, I’d focus on the sound, because so many of my favorite filmmakers use sound evocatively, and he uses it as well as anyone else I can think of. This is another ground for the comparison with Denis and Tarkovsky. But also Wong Kar-Wai. Very sensualist and vibrant filmmaking. It’s the equivalent of minimalist music—an almost anti-formalism. Meditative and simple, but strikingly vivid.
D: That same slow, reverent attention is what gives the cinematography its impact. It seems natural, but the composition’s so crisp and developed. When the camera lingers on an image, it’s almost invariably gorgeous. There is one in the cave where Jen is lying down and half-covered in shadow that really resonated with me. And another one when they’re first entering the cave, through that jagged blue slit.
S: I wanted to ask you about something thematic. What do you make of the ghosts?
D: Well, I can pretty definitively say that this was the least scary ghost story I’ve ever seen. On a religious level, it seems to follow Buddhism’s teachings. According to my cursory research, there are beings called “hungry ghosts” who can attach themselves to living people they love. It also says that these ghosts should be treated with compassion, not feared, and that they are suffering souls.
S: His treatment of the subject seems very naturalistic. What’s there is already there and always will be there.
D: On a metaphorical level, ghosts here represent what they represent in many other films. Unresolved issues, the inability to let go, lingering pain. And yet, again, these themes felt so unforced in this work.
S: Which brings me to another ghost that haunts the story.
D: Boonsong, the monkey son!?
S: The ghost of war.
D: Damn. Okay, the ghost of war. In that case, I should just retract what I said. Throughout, his themes seem unforced and natural. And then suddenly, in that central passage of this movie, you get this very topical invocation of the specter of Abu Ghraib. The civil unrest in Thailand. The torture of prisoners, foreigners, minorities.
S: It was shocking in a very quiet way.
D: It was very jarring, yet effective. That abrupt chord change.
S: Boonmee mentions killing Communists too. That was sad and strange—he’s such a gentle soul.
D: Yes, another very striking part. That discussion of whether it hurt his karma and whether his good intentions could justify it said a lot in a few lines.
S: War, ecology, social relations—they’re all intertwined in a beautiful way.
D: Indeed. So can we talk about the monkey-man now?
S: Sure, I love that guy.
D: His red eyes glowing in the darkness were so elemental and expressive. As well as Jen’s nonplussed reaction when she first sees him: “You let your hair grow so long.”
S: All this, after accepting fairly quickly that her dead sister’s ghost is sitting at the dinner table.
D: In this movie, the otherworldly and the ordinary are fully integrated, it seems.
S: Branching off of that, one of the points many people seem to stick on is the inter-species coitus.
D: Those are pretty memorable parts, admittedly. First with Boonsong, then the princess and the catfish.
S: I kept asking myself if the waterfall in that second scene becomes the cave that Boonmee and his sister-in-law visit. He mentions that he was born in that cave in a past life. I wonder if Boonmee was the product of the princess and the catfish.
D: That’s interesting, because I assumed he was the catfish. But I also read a review that speculated that he was the princess.
S: We can’t really say one way or the other, which is what makes it elegant. It’s more suggestive than anything else. There’s space for the story to breathe, and the narrative’s uncertain in the same ways Boonmee is uncertain.
D: It’s worth noting, at least in comparison to the other two Weerasethakul films I’ve seen, this is his most formally straightforward work. The other two, Tropical Malady and Syndomes and a Century, both fracture pretty dramatically into two parts that are only tangentially related. This one only threatens to do so at the very end.
S: I read this as an argument for the radical idea that even that which appears unconnected is connected. Life goes on; our forces and energies and influence continue to ripple outward through the world.
D: There’s definitely that aspect to it. Beyond his sheer audacity as a filmmaker, he’s thoughtfully integrating the influences of abstract, non-linear storytelling, Thai folklore, Buddhist beliefs. As well as the contemporary and ancient.
S: Without overromanticizing it, he’s not a Western filmmaker.
D: Not at all. Which is why I appreciate that he won the Palme d’Or. And why all the press about what a surprise it was made me laugh. But really, it’s sadly true in a sense. Outside of a few Japanese, Korean, and Chinese auteurs, we don’t get to see much from Asia.
S: Maybe this will be the start of something.
D: I hope so. A renaissance of diverse Asian cinema in the West. A reincarnation even.
Young Thousands 