Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives Review
By David Kempler
Cry Uncle
When a film wins the prestigious Palme d'Or at Cannes I get excited at the prospect of getting to see it. Since 1975, the following greats won the prize: "Taxi Driver", "Apocalypse Now", "The Tin Drum", "All That Jazz", "Kagemusha", "The Piano", "Pulp Fiction" and "The White Ribbon", just to name a few. "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives" is the most recent winner, but all I could think after viewing it was that someone was playing an elaborate and very involved joke on me.
Apichatpong Weerassethakul is the genius behind this stunningly boring, overly long, and near incomprehensible piece of self-indulgent crapola. The only nice thing I can say about it is that it is ambitious. But it is also difficult to understand how this ever got green-lit, let alone became any group's choice as being anything other than tedious.
For the sake of clarity, let me try and impart to you what "Boonmee" might or might not be about. Uncle Boonmee (Thanapat Saisaymar), a man who is suffering from kidney failure, is aware that his days on Earth are numbered. Joining him at his house are a few relatives and his medical attendant. Some of the relatives are dead, but have returned as ghosts. One is part monkey and part man. The glowing red eyes are a very funny touch. We accompany the group as they recount their lives, not just their most recent ones, but also through other times when they may have been buffalos or fish or plants.
There are at least ten times while watching where I wish they could have stopped for a break and explained to me what had just happened, because the best I, or anyone else I talked with, could come up with were stabs in the dark.
One scene I feel compelled to tell you about, because it was truly one of the most unusual I've ever seen. Picture a woman standing by a body of water. A fish begins to talk to her. She wanders toward the fish. When they finally come face-to-gill, the fish goes between her legs and thrashes about wildly, signifying a sexual act. I was neither enchanted nor repulsed, but it was the one time I couldn't look away from the screen. This scene belongs in a
Scene Hall of Fame, if one actually exists.
In closing, I must beg you not to see it, but if you have any acquaintances who you secretly, or not so secretly, dislike, because of their phony sense of being arty, by all means tell them about the magical experience of viewing the great Boonmee.
