Taxi Tehran is filmed from a taxi cab driven by Jafar Panahi. As he’s driving round Tehran, he picks up a wide range of characters from a variety of backgrounds. It’s a perfect microcosm for real life in Tehran and Iran and the perfect disguise for a banned filmmaker to practice his art.
From: Iran, AsiaContinue reading “Taxi Tehran – Travel Around Tehran with the Locals”
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From: Thailand, Asia Watch: Trailer, IMDb Next: Mysterious Object at Noon, Mimosas, Android's Dream
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.
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.
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.
Should the Wind Drop is a timely cinematic introduction to the disputed territory of Nagorno-Karabakh. It’s a country that has suffered genocide and unending land disputes, which recently flared up with neighboring Azerbaijan (the country most of the international community places it within).
We enter the country with Alain, an airport inspector traveling from France. He, like most of us, arrives without much knowledge of the country’s history. He’s here to inspect the regional airport which has been shut down since the outbreak of war in the 1990’s. If it passes all his tests, it can be officially opened and both establish the country’s existence globally, and open it up for it’s residents.
We follow Alain’s transformation from an auditor “just doing his job” to a sympathizer of the independence cause. During his time there he meets a good portion of the population and slowly opens up to their way of life. He grows to sympathize with the optimistic airport operator, the TV host, and his taxi driver shown in his more open conversation with them. His connection to Nagorno-Karabakh peaks with a jovial drinking session with the local soldiers. It’s the one time he seems to stray from the commitment to his job and truly mix with the locals. His transformation serves us (the audience), as like him, we have probably come to this movie with little prior knowledge of the country and people. Whilst it seems foreign at first, we, like him, end the film with a connection to the place and it’s characters through his experiences.
As a result of it’s significance to the locals, the airport has become a symbol of pride and hope. It has the potential to free them from their landlocked prison and regional disputes and become recognized internationally. It also literally fuels the village as one little boy walks by the airport every day to fill up his water bottles to sell in the village. Everyone in the town is seen drinking his ‘magic water’. It symbolizes their faith in the airport and the modern world it will bring.
As a symbol of recognition, the movie itself is just like the airport. In being made and celebrated at international film festivals, it puts Nagorno-Karabakh on the map, finishing what the airport started.
Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.
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