A LETTER TO UNCLE BOONMEE (2009)

next is a recent short i greatly admire, A Letter to Uncle Boonmee (2009), directed by Thai filmmaker Apichatpong Weerasethakul.

{2009, 18mins, 16mm, colour, Thailand}

one of the first things you experience in A Letter to Uncle Boonmee, is the long meditative tracking shots. Weerasethakul's camera conscientiously guides us through a series of abandoned houses, the rooms left untouched, he gives the audioviewer ample time to concentrate on the household details et simultaneously process the disembodied voices that take turns reading aloud the titular letter, which forms the films narration. Weerasethakul's poignant juxtaposition between the plainly-spoken voices et the moving camera evoke the mesmerizing films of Alain Resnais et Marguerite Duras {Night and Fog, Hiroshima Mon Amour, India Song}, who were both outstanding practitioners et innovators of opposing et combining disembodied voices over long "descriptive" tracking shots.

Weerasethakul's cinematic treatment et representation of actual historical events is also reminiscent of Resnais et Duras. Letter could be described as being more conceptual than factual {although facts are stated}, it is self-reflexive, yet dreamlike, it is a reenactment, a reincarnation, it is a study of time, place et remembrance.

Letter poetically recreates, or in some ways reincarnates the unsettling memory of abandonment et occupation, perhaps the current inhabitants of these houses are the children or relatives of the original families who were violently forced to flee, it is unknown. but for the sake of the film Weerasethakul has made them flee once again, et he reinstates a group of young soldiers to re-occupy the village.

the slow moving camera takes on a real presence, it haunts the interiors of the various houses, gazing upon the personal belongings as it drifts by. the voices fill the rooms as they read a letter written by Weerasethakul, addressed to his uncle Boonmee. with each new, tonally different voice, comes a fresh perspective on the letters content, it also produces a Brechtian 'alienation effect'. through repetition, we are made aware that these disembodied voices {presumably locals he has cast form Nabua} are being auditioned as his stand-ins, et simultaneously the house interiors too are being examined et explored in detail for their possible resemblance et suitability for the film we are in turn watching. Weerasethakul self-reflexively uses the filmmaking process to make up the film proper.

halfway into the film Weerasethakul's voice interrupts the letter reading, in an attempt to explain himself and his intentions, the images shift to exteriors, opening the film up to the surrounding houses et village, reflecting the candid et self-reflexive nature of the dialogue we are hearing. but then he has trouble explaining himself et tellingly the images correspondingly become more constricted, dim, et finally completely opaque. then out of the darkness a voice asks how to pronounce "view"? the camera responds to the voice by revealing an open window which affords a vantage of the neighbouring houses et smoke coming out of a mysterious pod shaped apparatus*

at one stage in the film, we experience a disorienting effect as the lens of the film camera is changed, the mattebox is then closed to reveal a dusky view of the village. Weerasethakul is continually reminding the audioviewer that they are watching a film, a constructed document that he takes full responsibility for.

Weerasethakul creatively uses the available daylight to render the houses naturally through the numerous open windows, he allows the rooms to remain murky et atmospheric, using the play of light et shadow to help illustrate the contents of the letter that is being read aloud, et also to communicate the difficulties he faces as a filmmaker in representing the past atrocities that were committed almost 50 years ago to the villagers of Nabua.

the arrival of the wind symbolically introduces us to the young soldiers who are occupying the village. the wind may be the result of stirring up the past or perhaps it means to uncover it, bringing it out into the open air. the presence of the wind lends a sense of restlessness et unease to the images. the soldiers represent the only 'real' physical presence in the film. Weerasethakul shows the soldiers eating, digging with hoes, lying about in the houses, passing the time, trying to keep cool with fans, these scenes capture a sense of detachment et indifference.

a voice continues to read the letter, this time shifting to outline the historical facts about the Nabua villagers who originally lived there. as we are told about how the local farmers were tortured et forced to flee by the governments army, the camera poignantly tracks past a wall containing family photographs, these portraits stand in for et commemorate the memory of all the villagers who disappeared into the jungle.

the film ends in a kind of twilight, the ambience is very dim, the camera slowly drifts past the various trees populating the jungle, these images are representative of where the surviving villagers were forced to flee into, et became their new home. these haunting images are made more unsettling by the constant whir of an electric fan on the soundtrack, evoking the soldiers who lie about idly in the 'abandoned' houses. curiosuly, we also catch a brief glimpse of a shadowy figure {monkey-man**} lurking amongst the trees only to lose sight of it.

Letter to Uncle Boonmee has a dreamlike quality, it feels as though we are floating through Weerasethakul's subconscious as he is reflecting on the film project, how he is going to express visually et aurally the ideas et facts, et how to remain respectful to et honour the memories of the villages of Nabua. Weerasethakul acknowledges these critical questions et makes them an integral part of his film, which produces the effective self-reflexive quality. Letter recalls his first feature Mysterious Objects at Noon (2000), which also contained the directors presence, critically making the audioviewer aware of the filmmaking process.  

Weerasethakul creatively incorporates the letter as a device in which he can explore both personal et historical ideas. through the making of the film he reconnects with his own past, with his uncle Boonmee, et at the same time reveals to the world, a dark period in Thailand's history that had been covered up. Letter attempts to acknowledge the atrocities that were committed in Nabua et thoughtfully commemorates the displaced villagers who lost their lives et homes.

****

it is important to note here that A Letter to Uncle Boonmee is part of the multi-platform "Primitive" project which focuses on the concept of remembrance and extinction set in the northeast of Thailand. also part of this initiative was Weerasethakul's short film Phantoms of Nabua (2009),  shot in the same village et at the same time as Letter.

Weerasethakul subsequently developed Uncle Boonmee into the feature film titled, Uncle Boonmee Who Can Remember His Past Lives (2010), which impressively et deservedly won the Palm d'Or at the Cannes films festival. i strongly recommend you see it if you can, along with Weerasethakul's earlier films!

* this pod/spaceship of sorts, is from Weerasethakul's Primative (2009) short film, which was the founding part of the "Primitive" project.


** we are introduced to the 'monkey-people' in greater detail et to dramatic effect in the feature film Uncle Boonmee Who Can Remember His Past Lives (2010).