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Krabi 2562 – A Subtle Critique of One of Thailand’s Most Visited Regions

Krabi 2562 Film Difficulty Ranking: 4

Why Watch Krabi 2562?

If you’re a fan of films built around a medley of scenes that segue between narrative and fiction
To jump between past, ancient past, and present day Krabi
For a subtle critique of the changing region

From: Thailand, Asia
Watch: Trailer, IMDb
Next: Mysterious Object at Noon, Mimosas, Android's Dream

A Political Opening

Krabi 2562 opens with a shot of a school assembly outdoors (see picture above). The students chant the national anthem, and salute the national religion (Buddhism) and the monarchy that rules ‘for the happiness of the people.’ It feels a bit dystopian, but this indoctrinated patriotism is pretty common throughout the world (even American school kids sing a bunch of patriotic songs in elementary school). After the singing stops, the camera cuts to an image of two plastic sheep. It’s a juxtaposition that symbolizes the blind patriotism of the kids and teachers.

I expected the film to contain more of a political message after the political jab in the opening. I also embarrassingly thought it would portray a dystopian future due to my ignorance that the date is in fact taken from the Buddhist calendar instead of the Gregorian one we’re familiar with; 2652 = 2019. Instead, Krabi 2562 is built around a series of clips of life in the region from interviews to deadpan narratives. There’s no main characters, not much of a continuous narrative, and it’s not a documentary either. In this sense, the style reminded me a bit of another Thai film, Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s Mysterious Object at Noon, and a bit of Andrea Bussman’s Fausto, two more films that weave together a mix of footage to create a feeling of story.

Time Traveling

Instead of following a particular character, the film hops between different scenes: some which seem real; and others that seem fictional. Seen together, they create a sense of the feeling of life in Krabi and how it’s changing. Some scenes, such as the interview with the boxer reminiscing on his past life, and the lady following in her parent’s footsteps, evoke a recent past. Other scenes, those that feature the ancient myths told by the Thai guide, and those that feature a pair of cavemen, evoke the ancient past. Whilst the contemporary present is represented by the tourists (foreign and domestic) visiting the region, and the advertising crew using the region’s natural beauty for an ad shoot. Whilst it doesn’t explicitly shout out that the region is taking a bad direction from past to present, it does show that local culture is being marginalized. The cavemen, boxer, and native crew member have been pushed aside (the native crew member literally disappears); the wildlife have turned into statues in a zoo inspected by people in Hazmat suits; and the myths and landscape have been converted into tourist draws. It’s as if the region is being ‘sanitized’ to cater to tourists and the outside world.

However, one thing that is lasting is the areas beautiful landscape. It still looks like the same place that the cavemen inhabited. It existed before stories. Despite the incursions of the outer world, the quiet soundtrack, populated mostly by the natural sounds of birds and cicadas, seems to hint that nature is also still in control. Whilst the people of Krabi can be pushed aside and marginalized, and the animals frozen in time, the beautiful landscapes’ immutability will continue to draw life to the region be it native or foreign.

What to Watch Next

If you want to watch more films built around a medley of scenes that segue between narrative and fiction, check out Andrea Bussman’s Fausto and Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s Mysterious Object at Noon.

Or if you want to watch another film whose narrative seamlessly jumps between the past and present, I strongly recommend watching Oliver Laxe’s Mimosas. (On a side note, Oliver Laxe actually makes a cameo in Krabi 2562 as the ad commercial director). You could also watch The Last of Us, another intriguing film which follows an African migrant that gets stuck with a modern day caveman in the wild, preventing him from reaching his European dream.

Finally, if you wanted to watch a slow, experimental sci-fi set in a touristic region (as I thought this film was going to be), check out Ion de Sosa’s Androids Dream, set in the Spanish beach resort town of Benindorm in the off-season.

Nofinofy – Life as a Barber in Contemporary Madagascar

Nofinofy Film Difficulty Ranking: 3

If you’re looking for a Madagascan film which documents a barber over the course of a few years, Nofinofy is the film for you. It’s mostly a humble slice-of-life movie that depicts the everyday nature of Romeo’s profession. But as one of Romeo’s friends mentions, his job is an honorable one; every day customers entrust him with their heads. But more than that, his customers also loan him their ears. Throughout each haircut, he gives his young customers unsolicited pieces of advice to help them through life, and for his older customers, he’s allowed to converse as he might to old friends, which gives him temporary relief from the burdens the government imposes on his barber shop. His dream of owning his own shop is repeatedly delayed by a city council that forces him to relocate every couple of months. His ever-moving barber shop mirrors the ever-changing city governments.

From: Madagascar, Africa
Watch: Trailer, Mubi
Next: Na China, Boxing Libreville, Inland Sea

There is No Evil – AFI Fest 2020

There is No Evil is made to be provocative in both the story structure and the content. Each of the four stories contains a mystery: we have to ask who the main character is and what they have done? Revealing their identity and actions is provocative as it shows how they’re linked to capital punishment and mandatory military service. None of the characters are what they initially seem.

Likewise the content is provocative. As mentioned, each story is linked to the death penalty and mandatory military service. But not just one of the other, as often the mandatory military service requires you to enforce capital punishment. Regular citizens are expected to follow orders and pull the stool from under those citizens deemed worthy of death. The director focuses on this to show how encompassing authoritarian rule is in Iran, and how blindly some people follow it. By showing how the state forces you to commit the absolute highest crime for it’s benefit, the director reveals that there’s nothing some citizens wouldn’t do to facilitate the authoritarian government in Iran.

There is No Evil is split into four parts partly for political/logistical reasons. Director Mohammad Rasoulof is currently banned from filmmaking in Iran and breaking the film into shorts made it easier to hide his name from the permits and delegate. However, breaking the film up into four sections also helps to expand the perspective of the film. Instead of focusing on one family in one singular feature, the four parts show the range of people and lives the death penalty affects. We see those who resist and those that follow the law, as well as family members and friends who can’t escape it. It shows that everyone can be implicated.

Whilst it shows people from both sides, the film appears to favor those who resist. This is shown in the openness of the worlds in each short, especially when comparing the first short to the last. In the first, we follow a father governed by his routines. He follows rules and chastises his wife for forgetting to do things by the book. Despite being free to go wherever he wants, his world feels narrow and restricted. A lot of the time he’s inside either a car stuck in traffic, or in buildings, and he works in a windowless room far underground in artificial light. So whilst he’s not an outcast to society, his world feels limited and bleak. In contrast, the outcast in part four has escaped from Iranian society. He’s been forced to live off the land far from civilization because he resisted. But his world also feels more free for it. His story is full of natural light and wide expansive shots of the landscape. His world feels more free despite his political status because he stood up for what he believed in. His spiritual freedom is reflected in his bright world. In him, the director shows he favors those who resist.

Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.

Executive Order – Los Angeles Latino International Film Festival 2021

Executive Order starts in the court room as Antonio, a young black lawyer fights a case for reparations for Afro-Brazilians. Meanwhile, a number of Brazilian news reporters live stream footage of an old black lady entering the department of state to collect the very first reparations payment in the country. However, just as you think this is going to be a utopia from the positive start, the government officials turn the old lady away, kicking off a downward cycle of police presence and prejudice against Afro-Brazilians.

The cases of blatant and behind-closed-doors racism that the director presents don’t feel too surprising. The scenes – such as the one featuring the racist man in the bar – feel carbon copies of similar scenes documenting racist events from Hollywood movies. Neither is the descent of the country into a dystopian fascist state that forcibly deports all people with African blood back to Africa as we’ve already seen bleak dystopias on screen in The Handmaid’s Tale. However, the surprising part is that it’s mostly presented in a pretty upbeat manner. The music, colorful pictures, and light banter between the main characters matches the light tone of a Spike Lee neighborhood film. It gives the film a gospel-ish feel – that despite all the terrible things going on, there’s still hope for the Afro-Brazilian characters. Maybe it would have been too hard to see this film without the upbeat tone considering the current state of Brazilian politics. So instead of being a gritty, depressing film, Executive Order is a palatable Hollywood-style dystopian drama that allows space for a few laughs at the absurdity of the white supremacist state.

Whilst it could have been more ‘radical’ and a bit less obvious, it’s good to see a light hearted drama that anyone can watch and enjoy tackle rarely mentioned topics like reparations on the big screen.

Head to our LALIFF 2021 Hub for more reviews from the 20th edition of LALIFF.

No Bears – AFI Fest 2022

Despite a 20 year ban on making or directing movies imposed on him in 2010, Jafar Panahi continues to make films. No Bears is the fifth feature film Panahi has made since the ban, and is probably his most political. The not one, but two films in No Bears are an attack on the hypocrisies of censorship and freedom of movement.

Now that Panahi has proved the house arrest and ban on film-making cannot stop him from making films, he’s been encouraged to make something even more inflammatory – an almost direct critique of the government and of laws against the freedom of movement. In No Bears, Panahi deliberately flaunts all of the rules that have been imposed on him. Firstly, he’s directing one film, and starring in another, breaking his filmmaking ban once again. Secondly, he shows he can make films from wherever he wants – he’s relaxing in a rural village near the border and directing his film crew in another country, as well as making a film in the village where he is staying. Thirdly, he’s creating new filmmakers – both in his cameraman shooting his film in Turkey and in the people he hands off his camera to in the village. Lastly, he also shows he can go wherever he wants. He goes right up to the Turkish border as if it’s nothing. All of these things deliberately flaunt his power in spite of the government’s restrictions on him. He proves that they’ll never silence him from making films, whether that’s in Iran or outside it, with him behind the camera or having inspired someone else.

On top of this, Panahi also sets up two films within No Bears to criticize the government and the culture is has fostered. One is a film within a film, following the story of a couple in Turkey that have finally found fake passports on the black market to leave the country. This narrative highlights the discrimination in freedom of movement – granted to certain people because of birth lottery, and hidden from others. The other follows Panahi himself, as he works on this film from a rural Iranian village along the Turkish border. The longer he stays, the more entangled he becomes in the backward customs of the town. This narrative serves as an analogy for the hypocrisies of the Iranian government and censorship committees. Just as they imposed filmmaking bans on him instead of looking to solve the problems he highlights in his films, the villagers choose to make him a scapegoat for their own feuds.

For a film that holds no punches in attacking censorship and freedom of movement, Panahi’s latest is a joy to watch. It’s filled with a dry humor that pokes fun of the establishment whilst retaining a serious message. Just as much as this, No Bears is also a testament to the filmmaking drive of Jafar Panahi. No matter how many restrictions are imposed against him, he’s continued to make films and inspire others. We hope he, and the Iranian filmmakers imprisoned with him earlier this year will be released and the filmmaking bans rescinded.

Head to our AFI Fest 2022 Hub for more reviews from AFI Fest 2022.