Un homme qui promène son chien, un imposant porc qui veut sortir de son enclos, une femme qui se peint les ongles des pieds, une manifestation protestataire, un spectaculaire feu d'artifice, le tout filmé avec moult solarisation et une fragmentation de l'image cadencé, pour nous faire savoir que si cette prise de vue est aussi désordonnée et foutraque, c'est qu'elle est la résultante d'un rêve ! www.cinefiches.com
OK, but filmmakers have done memory + heightened the everyday via flickering images forever (grainy, against sun, tinted). Still has impact, but I'm weary of it. Evocative sound compensated. Flickering feels too easy, a flashy cover for blandness, same as hyper-editing a la Bourne Ultimatum can hide flaws. Prefer long takes of AW's features, conveying painful beauty of memory + something imminent in the ordinary.
A lovely experiment of internal vision ... well done and certainly worth the watch. Not to mention a challenging political statement for those who know about Thailand...and very good use of the Lomokino camera ... see http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-35099322 for the political discussion found in the film ...112 and the dog ...
A brief but effective, enigmatic but scrutable, taciturn but meaningful, worldly but extra-terrestrial short film which manages completely and beautifully to distinguish the quality of the dreams and ethereal experiences from any attempt to recreate the unique senses,feelings & fantasies that they create; while the movie itself is dreamlike. In other words, to dream is to dream. / A-
Fleeting images like fragments of faded memory. Watching this I wonder what the meaning is. Is the meaning in the images I see or is it in the images that I do not see? is it in the spaces outside the frame? In the end something is being celebrated but the spectators are not watching with their eyes but through the lenses of their cell phones and other optic devices. They are not making memories, they are recording.
Watching this, thought about how film as a medium is inadequate for recreating memory, just as pencil is for recreating a dream: the results are jumpy, blurry, faded, no more than blocks of light on dark. Recognizable things become unrecognizable. Anyway, it's 20 minutes so watch it if you're interested in Weerasethakul and dreams/memory/light. Liked the section with the clicking best.
A man walks his dog past his neighbors and a pig. People are protesting next a highway. Just past the half-way point, a voice in the dark says that after drawing pictures of his hometown from memory he's given up on film. Fireworks light up the sky with words. It looks like a great student film. The film feels uneasy, fragmentary, wistful.
Thankful for the opportunity to see small and alternative works by great masters. I'm a huge admirer of his work, but this particular piece didn't go far enough for me. It feels like a sketch for a part of another film. Still, it's wonderful to feel like I've had a glimpse behind the scenes of an artist's process.
Having traveled to Thailand, the sound design sticks out as authentic. This short tantalized the senses; I could almost smell the jungle. The visuals are hypnotic; it's a little jarring so watch in low res to avoid buffering issues. I really enjoyed the voice over sequence, along side the original music. Very nostalgic.
As a westerner flooded with photoshop-filtered images, the first ten minutes of this short were easily dismissed as a disjointed instagram-stop motion short. As the story begins to fold in on itself and the narrarator begins, I was moved by the sense of the impermanence and subjectivity of memory until we attach language--and a story--to it.
Not at all sure what is going on here, but I like! Mubi has been an excellent source lately for catching up with multiple works from a single director - Weerasethakul, whose name I have memorized and can not accurately spell without looking, has been notably featured. The beauty of his work is definitely refined into a short here. Perhaps it could serve as a bite size portion of what his body of work consists.