Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives

The promotional material for "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives" is misleading. The trailer focuses on two key things: the audio of a menacing jungle and a dark figure with red eyes. Red eyes, especially pupil-less, denote some kind of violent horror. Yet those concepts should not scare or depress you. The reality is, the red-eyed figure is not a monster who lives exclusively in the dark. Though it is something representing the unknown. The truth is, the eyes are an illumination in the dark, where ours are clouded and therefore apprehensive where we should not be.

"Uncle Boonmee" treats life as a threadbare curtain where men and women, humans and animals, and the living and the dead freely interact. Yet they are distinct; the film is not saying there are no differences between these realms. Upon realizing this, in that startling dinner scene that truly kicks off the whole film, I stopped dreading the depressing experience I thought I would have in my mind, and began enjoying the film not as a celebration of life, but a meditation on life, that truly has no conclusion because life simply goes on, regardless of time, regardless of death.

It's natural to fear darkness; it's natural to fear silence. We're conditioned to expect something startling to emerge from the edge of the frame, as if it exited from the jungle. But the Thai jungle, where the film all but the end takes place, is simply a jungle, undramatic; even the creatures who inhabit it are unconcerned about their environment. Yet as the film progresses, we come to see the jungle primarily as a space for certain desires to play out, particularly with our own idealization of our selves, as we see in the vignettes of Boonsong and the princess. And, as the film ends, this space is no different from the urban environments of our studio apartments.

It's a very slow film (space denotes time, after all). Going by the comments of the director (whose name I will not copy-and-paste and pretend I, in my awkward English, can pronounce) this is intentional, as it is in reference to a certain style of film-making. However, this style, if it does not fit the content perfectly, ought to be criticized. There is a bit of padding in the film, that, while I am not advocating to be cut out, does not seem to be necessary to the overall concept of the film. The family discusses glass noodles, Jen plays with a dog, Tong takes a shower - these can either be significantly truncated or even removed from the film. I will commend the editing in that it begins with the dinner scene, and does not make us wait through scenes of the farm first (for another film-maker would think this is crucial "character-building"). The film is certainly a meditative film, but I would not call it a realistic film.

Yet no matter how much one can critique the film's execution, it's undeniable that it's worth its weight in gold in the ideas it presents; that alone rewards multiple viewings. In the beginning, Boonmee is seen, spirit deflated, as his assistant, Jai, connects a dialysis to his liver. At this moment we pity him. But after the events of the film, when the ghost of his wife disconnects the dialysis tube, and we see the contents of his liver, essentially his urine, leave him, we no longer think his condition is gross - the water coming from him is no different than the water from waterfalls, in ponds. His death has meaning, but we are not upset by it. There's simply a moving on. Tong the next morning, incredibly, climbs out of the cave, escaping into the jungle, becoming in a certain sense separated from the world as Boonsong is; Jen looks, detached, and one can see clearly here the difference in size between her good foot and her hobbled foot. As she shuffles towards Boonmee, there is an overwhelming audio of escalating voices - at this point we are no longer afraid of the unfamiliar, but we recognize that we are hearing the sounds of a million voices crying out then suddenly silenced, in the words of Ben Kenobi.

The film has the perfect ending. If you could listen in on my thoughts towards the end of the film, you would have heard me shouting "Please end with a rock song, please end with a rock song..." Lo and behold, the credits rolled to a rock song sung in Mandarin. I can't tell you why, but it was extremely rewarding to see the film end on so light a note, where everything preceding it was so pregnant in thought. The whole film takes place in the wilderness which symbolizes the raw spirit of mankind, even when Thai soldiers are racing through it, capturing monkeys. Uncle Boonmee wonders why Jen wants to continue living in her cramped apartment in the city from Hell. Yet the rock song lets you know that it is okay to desire civilization, to desire the company of other people. I can't place why that is the case right now, however.

When I left the theatre at Coolidge Corner and made my way to the train, I saw the film's aesthetic beauty everywhere, glancing down alleyways and dark streets. I was walking down a street I've seen many, many times before, yet it took on a meditative aspect, not quiet because there were many passersby, that I hadn't noticed before.

There's something particularly Asian about this film. (There are a lot of mysteries in the film.) In a regular Western film, we expect a bit of drama, a bit of absurdity, but there's something so straightfaced about "Uncle Boonmee" that surprises. You dread the monkey ghost coming into actual light - you expect in your head that it would always be relegated to the background, and the film will not show a man in a monkey costume. But the film does indeed show a man in monkey make-up, who, if you've seen crappy Chinese movies, looks like someone's depiction of Sun Wukong. Yet the film shows our kitschy monkey man with sincerity, as if it truly does not matter that he is a man in make-up, and because the film is so good we believe the film, we ignore the effect. The film has greater things to say about people as spirits.

My last thought is, This may be the best Sasquatch film America will never create. We tend to look at Sasquatch as a singular being, apart from mankind - Sasquatch is an alien, Sasquatch is a missing link, Sasquatch is a monster. But what makes Sasquatch inherently intriguing is that it has a mysterious, unexplained connection to human beings, that we cannot decipher. The storyteller wants to explain, wants to conclude, wants to use - "Uncle Boonmee" is satisfied with the imagery and the mystery.

Be not afraid of this film, and see it in light.