Pen-Ek Ratanaruang's Postmodern Odyssey

Nobody could ever accuse Thai director Pen-Ek Ratanaruang of being a modernist. His characters aren't men (and women) of action, nor do they fall into any of the classic "hero" models. Burdened with a postmodern indeterminacy, they are less likely to define their own path than they are to become victims of happenstance. Tadanobu Asano's failed suicide attempt in Last Life in the Universe is about as close as any of his characters get to forging their own destiny, though he too soon gets caught up in a chain of unlikely but interconnected events. While Ratanaruang obviously possesses the critical distance to spin his PoMo fables, the joke (as it were) isn't always evident to those of us not well versed in Thai culture, history, tradition etc. Yet even so, his films are infused with the universality of human experience, which goes a long way in explaining his worldwide critical success. Coming between 6ixtynin9 and Last Life in the Universe is 2001's Monrak Transistor, a lighthearted and playful film that takes us on a Homeric-inspired odyssey through the villages, cities, and jungles of Thailand, complete with pop/folk musical numbers. Pan (Supakorn Kitsuwon) is young dreamer with only two goals -- to become a famous singer and to win the heart of village beauty Sadao (Siriyakorn Pukkavesh). Nothing ever gets him down, nor does he let anything stand in his way, including Sadao's father, who would sooner see the boy dead than as his son-in-law. Yet Pan's perseverance and irresistible charm (which includes bursting into song at just about any moment) eventually win the old curmudgeon over, and it's not long before the couple marry and settle down for a life of passion and bliss. Though completely carefree, Pan is also cursed with horrible luck, and he is soon called up for mandatory military service. This is the trigger that drags our slacker Odysseus away from his Penelope, and signals the start of an epic journey that, like his Ithacan counterpart, will keep him away from home for many years. In the course of his journey, Pan will fight his way through the military, the seedy world of show business (including a lecherous promoter), life on a sugar cane plantation, and ultimately prison, where he will literally wind up in the shit. As if cursed with the postmodern condition, Pan is oddly accepting of these cruel twists of fate. He has the power to change things, at least somewhat, but chooses to surrender to passivity. As with other Ratanaruang characters, Pan finds himself involved in a homicide, but unlike Tum (6ixtynin9) or Kenji (Last Life...), he doesn't even make a half-hearted attempt to cover it up. Ratanaruang incorporates other standard PoMo cinematic devices, including expository chapter headings (Foot Pollen, Son-of-a-Bitch, etc.), and moments of self-reflexivity with characters directly addressing the audience. Whereas we wouldn't think twice about seeing them used in a Woody Allen film, they here feel somewhat awkward, but at the same time surprisingly new. Again, this might have to do with not being as well versed in the history and grammar of Thai cinema. But this is in no way a criticism of Ratanaruang or the film -- quite the opposite in fact. Though all of Ratanaruang's films can be thematically and stylistically linked, and though he often employs the same devices, they never feel derivative. Each film contains unique and unexpected pleasures that never fail to surprise. Even in its heavier moments, Monrak Transistor remains as joyously unrestrained as the wonderful pop songs scattered throughout the film. It's a perfect blending of the films that precede and follow it -- with the wry humor of 6ixtynin9 and the emotional dulcitude of Last Life in the Universe, Monrak Transistor is a magnificent film from one of the most consistently interesting directors working today.