Cemetery of Splendour

Cemetery of Splendour is a magical realism tale, that doesn't ask or answer any questions, but lets the viewer ask them for himself while watching.

It is slow paced and leaves a lot to imagination, so you will have to actively watch it, instead of just letting it play in the background.

Every moment of this film is enjoyable. For much of the movie, it struck me as no more or less than a solid example of the cinema of auteur Arichitapong Weerasthakul. He is, perhaps, the most sincerely and successfully magical-realist artist that cinema has known. The social rhythms seem utterly naturalistic, even when the main character, an old, recently handicapped hospital worker, is having a pleasant chat with ancient deities. As with early Peter Weir, Weerasthakul's natural landscapes are utterly, well, natural yet they seem to suggest a haunting, an otherworldly force that's face is the world, one which may or may not be benevolent. History, for Weerasthakul, is the haunting of the present and future by past lives and past worlds, spectral- beings that traverse and are traversed by the present.

During Cemetery's last scenes I came to think this may be Weerasthakul's most fully realized work. The penultimate shot is extraordinary. The main character stares out at a central square of the village where the film has taken place, which the current government is digging up, presumably to make way for some "modern convenience". Children play over the new ruins like spirits of the future levitating over a present fading into the past. Our lives, our worlds, can only exist atop the ruins and amid the ghosts of the past. Destruction is therefore creation. But that doesn't make destruction, perhaps especially in its contemporary, mechanized form, any less terrifying.

Apichatpong Weerasethakul had been on my radar after the elusive critical praise for his earlier work that seem fit only for lists like They Shoot Pictures. He doesn't seem to satisfy general audiences in the same way, despite winning at Cannes for Uncle Boonmee. Ostensibly his most personal film, Cemetery of Splendour seemed like a good start. It was certainly an introduction to his ambiguity which Splendour indulges in at every opportunity. It's very rich with its themes, though you have to go with the flow on its spirituality, belief in past lives and superstition, but those themes don't necessarily feel like they string together. More knowledge on Thai politics, history and culture would certainly help to arrive at a concise interpretation, but it does have enough universalities.

There is, however, a fascinating way it contrasts past and present simultaneously. That's its best ambiguous angle. Each shot can be its own individual thought rather than giving myself headaches trying to piece it together. Weerasethakul at least has a wonderful sense of poetic composition and juxtaposition, his choice of a rainbow light aiding him in many senses. But besides the calm and often profound nature of the film, what makes it strike a nerve is the deeply resonating performance from his lead Jenjira Pongpas. She balances humour with empathetic emotion with nuanced ease and anchors the film in her relateability despite her unique situation with her tumurous leg. Cemetery certainly gives a lot to chew on.

8/10

Cemetery of Splendour is a serene and mystical meditation on spiritual connection and dreaming. But Weerasethakul's first feature since 'Uncle Boonmee' will not be for everyone - it will either send you into deep spiritual contemplation, or send you to sleep.

The setting is a makeshift hospice in Thailand for soldiers with Narcalepsy; a sleeping condition in which patients are almost always asleep. Jen, a middle-aged woman with a physical impairment, is assigned to look after one of the soldiers as a volunteer. She rubs cream into his muscles, and takes him out for meals when he is awake. But beneath the ebb and flow of life at the hospice, there are other spiritual forces at play; talk of an ancient cemetery, and the spirits of kings and goddesses.

The film is shot beautifully. The camera stays fixed in wide angle - each scene being a window through which the characters enter and connect, reminiscent of the work of Bela Tarr. I think the camera moved twice the entire film.

Cemetery of Splendour is most definitely a slow burner. I'd go as far as to say that it doesn't really reach any heights of dramatic or narrative tension. The film is much more of an experiential, moody piece that lingers and floats like light sleep. I didn't quite understand it, and I almost fell asleep, but if the film is exploring Narcolepsy, then I think that's the point...

A young woman sings to her lover in public, ancient kings use the energy of sleeping soldiers to fight battles and figurine princesses come to life and discuss things like skin-tone and how much they appreciate offerings. Such characters and scenes are not brought about through computer animation, elaborate costumes or thrilling action sequences, but mundane and leisurely compositions.

The film follows Jen and Keng, local women who voluntarily visit and help care for soldiers in a remote and tiny hospital. The soldiers seem to be under the sway of a spell or perhaps dreams and thoughts of their own making. Keng is a psychic and has the ability to communicate to the soldiers in their sleep. The whole film is something of a meandering daydream or series of magic spells, which is both good and bad. It is cerebral, loosely organized and full of depth. It is a kaleidoscope of Thai culture, lawn ornaments, colored lights, dreams and figures from the past, present and future, among other things. According to the TIFF catalog the film blends "neuroscience, Khmer animism, meditations on war and death, and the quotidian details of everyday life in a small village." They mention this, of course, just in case you caught too much Khmer animism and neuroscience in previous films. Seen at the Toronto International Film Festival 2015.