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Believe it or not (I'm having a hard time dealing with the news myself), we're not invited to press screenings of movies (or only occasionally to those of maverick low-budget films). You already knew we pick up our own checkbin when we review restaurants--hence guaranteeing our legendary unbiased reporting--but movies are different. The only way we can publish a review of a movie before it actually comes out is to see it a few weeks in advance, at a press screening. If you've ever wondered why we occasionally review movies a couple weeks after their release, you now know why.

Discussing this with Nuttaporn Srisirirungsimakul, who handles our movie reviews here, we decided maybe we should make up reviews based on what we know of the movie. For example, King Naresuan, we all know what that review is going to be:

Five years after the painfully boring Suriyothai, Chatrichalerm Yukol travels back in time once more to tell us the story of King Naresuan. While Suriyothai had the merit of taking Thai production values to new heights, achieving a level of quality that caught Francis Ford Coppola's eye and prompted him to attempt to distribute the movie internationally (it didn't work), King Naresuan brings nothing new to the genre. What it might do is make Suriyothai look clever and subtle as Chatrichalem drags his latest epic to the chest-thumping nationalistic retardation of Bang Rajan, minus Tanit Jitnukul's energetic directing.

Sure there's budget, which translates to lots of extras and smoke. But this is 2006, 300 (the Spartan flick based on the comic strip) will soon be on screens worldwide, Gladiator is already 6 years old, and Braveheart was over a decade ago! You can't go on filming battles like in the 1950's--and even back then Cecil B. DeMille or Akira Kurosawa could have handed Chatrichalem his ass any day.

While we're making unflattering comparisons, it'll be hard for audiences not to compare the royal blockbuster to the imperial one--Curse of the Golden Flowers. Let's ignore the action (that would be a very cruel comparison indeed) and focus on the acting. While Gong Li and Chow Yun Fat are aware that you can't act on the silver as you would in a TV sitcom, Chatrichalem has clearly failed to point this out to his actors. Welcome to the enchanting world of Thai soap performance where lips quiver, eyebrows twitch, voices crack, and faces are swiftly turned in the direction opposite to the other characters (and towards the audience). And what's up with the fake mustache dude in the red pajamas? Did he stumble out of bed, cut his hairy appendage out of the carpet, and stumble on the set half-drunk? If you're going to do a mustache movie, at least get the mustaches right!

Oh but wait, we're forgetting Wanchana Sawatdee. He's hot. Hot enough to rivet you to your seat for 2 hours? Possibly. But King Naresuan is only the first of a 3-part series. In part two, Wanchana better lose the armor and start showing off some flesh if he wants us to come back for more. And for Part 3, it'll probably take the promise of soft porn for to even consider buying another movie ticket.

Ok, that was evil--and based only on the trailer. I hope I'll be proved terribly wrong. The film will be on Jan 18.

I'm much more excited about Final Score. It's a documentary on a bunch of M6 students passing their O-Net exams. It's interesting because we've recently seen quite a few documentaries become blockbusters (Fahrenheit 9/11, An Inconvenient Truth) and movies being filmed like documentaries (Borat). So the question is, will the genre catch on in Thailand? I also think the time is ripe for Thais to focus on themselves, on their future and on the Now, not on Siam's glorious past. A truthful look at high school students might be a good way to achieve this (on screens Feb 1).

The Bangkok Post has more Thai movies to look out for this year, in particular Ong Bak 2 and Alone (by the directors of the excellent Shutter)--here.

I'm browsing the New York Times and I see a review of Tears of the Black Tiger. I think, "I didn't ask for the archives!" then look at the article's date: today. I rub my eyes, I squint. Today! That's right, director Wisit Sasanatieng's Fah Talai Jone is finally being shown in Manhattan, 6 years after it came out here. It could well be the best movie ever to come out of Thailand because it was so daring aesthetically and yet didn't compromise on good old-fashion characters and plot. A wacko but beautiful Thai Gone with the Wind... sort of. You can still find it in DVD here, so go pick it up and never again complain about how long it takes for stuff from the US to get to Bangkok.

Watch the New York Times's review above or read it here.

When Laomericans rap, it looks like this:

Which prompted lover14788 to comment:

"Yo! respecting ur rap and everthang but Bside rapping in english can U rap in lao, so U can represent Lao pride!"

Yeah, G.U.M.B.Y. It's not hard. Look:

And this guy was elected Person of the Year 2006 by Time? Give me a break.

James Nachtwey is a living legend of documentary photography. He's been on the frontline of wars, famines, drugs, and epidemics on every continent since 1976. He's received too many prestigious awards to mention and has been working with Time Magazine since 1984. (www.jamesnatchwey.com).

He's just finished shooting for 9 Days in The Kingdom, a book of photography combining 50 of the world's biggest names in photography and shot, as the title suggests, over 9 days. The book will be released on the auspicious event of His Majesty King Rama IX's 80th birthday, this December. (link)

photo: Daniel Cuthbert

Daniel was feeling understandably shy at shooting Nachtwey. I gave up on the idea altogether. I can't switch form left-brain (verbal for the interview) to right-brain (visual for the portrait) in a minute. Daniel also helped with the interview (his questions are marked DC, mine GG). Just read it, it's pretty much verbatim. I'll just say Nachtwey clearly answered questions I'd been mulling over for a long time and over which people endlessly debate (rather stupidly in light of his answers) on online forums.

GG: Every photographer covered a different aspect of Thailand. James, what did you cover?

JN: I went to Lop Buri, to Wat Phra Baht Nam Phu, and focused on the work of one of the volunteers in the AIDS hospice, Father Michael Bassano. I wanted to focus on one person rather than take on subject superficially. [AFP story of Father Bassano: link]

GG: How did you prepare for this?

JN: I called ahead of time, told them what we would like to do, got the proper permissions.

GG: Why this topic?

I've been working on TB [tuberculosis] and AIDS for a number of years in many countries and wanted to expand my larger project by working here in Thailand.

DC: How do you work?

JN: I work by myself. I might have a few assistants for commercial photography but I do almost none of that—just a couple jobs in my whole career. In a place that's so sensitive and people are suffering, I can't impose on them any more than I already was.

GG: How do you decide what to show, what not to show?

JN: I don't censor myself. I don't believe in censorship, including self-censorship. I work from instinct and intuition. The way I work is very improvisational, subjective. I don't try to limit myself by establishing a preconceived notion of what I can or cannot photograph. I can photograph anything. It's the way in which you photograph that matters.

GG: So how can that way of photographing be good or bad?

JN: It's a little bit hard to be judgmental in an abstract sense. It all happens in the moment. It's what's in your heart and your personal response to that moment.

GG: Is it also about where the picture is used?

JN: My work is for the printed press mainly. I work with very established, very reputable publications that I trust. If the goal is to create awareness, then it's important that it be in the mass media, that it reach many people, and that it be in a publication I trust and respect. Most of my work is for Time, has been for many years. It's a great publication, thoroughly professional. They really care.

GG: But what about this book, 9 Days in the Kingdom, that will be commercial in many of its aspects?

JN: I didn't conceive of this book, I just conceived of what I wanted to do. I don't work from the point of view of trying to make things look good, or even try to make them look bad. I try to make them look as I perceive them to be. There's nothing good about AIDS or tuberculosis and yet the man I photographed is doing a great deal of good in the midst of a tragic situation. Father Bassano is a paradigm of positive life force, an amazing human being. He's a very, very inspiring man. I was privileged to spend a week with him.

DC: You once said that companies don't want to run ads alongside your images.

JN: I manage to get my work published but there always seems to be tension. It's about marketing concerns and being journalistically responsible. It's a fact of life in commercial publishing. Journalism is, in one sense, a business. And it has to be a business to survive and to succeed. Editors are in a position I have never been in. And they have pressures I have never had. I don't want to judge them. They try to balance a project with longevity and journalism. I've been working with Time since 1984 and they're committed to my work and they want me to be out there showing what's going on in the world. We share a mutual trust and faith. They publish my work well. I also just did a piece for National Geographic that was outside of their profile and they took a great editorial risk in publishing it and they did it in a very uncompromising way. But there is that tension. That's the reality of it.

DC: Are camera phones and the internet the death of photographers like you?

JN: Hopefully the internet will evolve as a viable commercial venue. There's a long way to go and I'm very hopeful at this point. The opportunities could actually be greater than ever.

DC: How do you approach a story?

JN: I try to do some research, make the right connections, and relations. Explain my work to people and get accepted. I don't usually barge in. People need to understand who I am, what I am doing. In order for me to be comfortable, they have to be comfortable and then I can work in an uninhibited way, and that's the way I do my best work.

GG: When you take a picture that you like, do you consider it beautiful?

JN: Beauty is not my goal. If there is any beauty in my work, it's in the eye of the beholder. The fact beauty seems to coexist with tragedy is a paradox. It's a paradox of life. If there is beauty in my work, it's nothing I'm imposing. It's perceived. Perhaps the sense of perceived beauty is what nature has given us to make tragedy acceptable to our souls. So then we can respond, in a human way.

GG: But you must compose your pictures—think of colors, light?

JN: There's no need to apologize for using the language of photography, the formal elements of my medium. That's the reality I'm faced with: there's a rectangular frame, there's a foreground, middle ground and background, there's a right, left, top, bottom. These are the tools I have to work with. I try to use them in an eloquent way. I don't use the formal elements of photography for their own sake. I don't use what's happening in the world to make statements about photography, I use photography to make statements about what's happening in the world. I'm a witness and I want my testimony to be eloquent.

GG: How do you choose what to raise awareness on?

JN: Initially, I wanted to be a war photographer because I saw the social value in that kind of photography because I was a young man during the Vietnam War. The power of photography had a deep influence on me. Military and political leaders were telling us one thing about Vietnam and photographers were telling us something else. And I believed the photographers.

GG: So photographers can change their world?

JN: Well, I don't want to exaggerate. I'm one person among many, many people in the press. It's the combined effort of the people in the press. You can't solve a problem until you've identified it. We can put a human face on an issue that could otherwise remain abstract.

GG: Are you ever frustrated by the limits of your role, which is only to raise awareness?

JN: Every medium has a limitation. Every person has limitations. Ever person has a role. Photographer is my role. That's what I'm suited for. I wish I could be a doctor, a diplomat, a physical therapist, an NGO, but I'm only one person with one set of skills. Other people play those others roles and we're all interconnected. Hopefully what I do advances in some positive way the work of others. There's no one thing that will make the world all right. Great minds, philosophers, scientists, politicians have been thinking about how to improve the world for thousands of years and the world is still turbulent and in trouble. The world is a work in progress and we all have a part to play, something we can contribute. I choose to play a conscious role and contribute my small part.

DC: You realize you're a kind of master for many photographers. You're studied in universities.

JN: I don't think about that. What you just said, I'm not even that aware of it. If I think about it, it feels strange, weird, but I don't. I'm just not aware of it.

DC: Could you ever give up photography, like Cartier Bresson did?

JN: I suppose that could happen. But I'm healthy, fit, motivated, experienced, I know how to handle certain situations through experience. I have a contribution to make. I have no intention of stopping.

Steve McCurry is famous for his picture of an Afghan girl that made it to the cover of National Geographic and that then led him on a quest to find her again 17 years later, after the Taliban were defeated. McCurry is a true master of light and color, which makes him a very “total” photographer. His portraits always have an intensity in their subjects’ eyes that is near magical. If I could choose a photographer to magically rob of his talent (not a nice thought, I know) I might choose McCurry—in part because I love color so much.

This interview, still for the upcoming 9 Days in the Kingdom book, is much shorter than Nachtwey’s because McCurry was constantly looking at this watch and had set a pretty short timeframe for us. Still, we took much longer than expected and overall he still came across as kind and generous with his time.

photo: Daniel Cuthbert

What topic did you cover for 9 Days in the Kingdom?

I chose Buddhism. I’ve been interested in Buddhism as a way of thinking for a long time. Over the last 20 years, I’ve been to Sri Lanka, Bhutan, Laos, Thailand, Nepal… It’s a reoccurring theme in my work. So I thought, why not do a book about it and come back to Thailand.

The first thing that stands out in Thailand’s photographic landscape is a plethora of saffron-robed monks. How do you take pictures of monks and temples without taking clichés?

You need to delve into it, not just scratch the surface. To go beyond clichés, you need to spend time. If you breeze through a temple, they all seem the same. You need to go into the backrooms, the living quarters. It’s all about discovery, seeing things, wandering around. The fun, the joy, the reward is the journey. You just wander around and wait for serendipitous situations. I don’t think too much. Things must touch me.

So how do you capture the spirituality of Buddhism? When I look at young monks, in say Luang Prabang, I see a bunch of bored young men. I’ve even seen them beat a rat to death—not exactly a tourist’s idea of Buddhism.

Lots of monks are in monkshood for the wrong reasons. They’re not on a quest. Their parents just put them there. Practitioners are not always passionate. People have a glowing image of monks on another level, a “Hollywood vision” of Buddhism. You have to see beyond that. But just because the spirituality doesn’t reveal itself to you as a tourist or traveler, it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I never tire of the architecture, the paintings. It’s very poetic. There is a compassion, a calmness in these places. You can’t extrapolate because of a few jerks in Luang Prabang. They’re bogus; but that’s not what monastic life is about. You really can get on the special spiritual vibe that exists in these places.

www.SteveMcCurry.com

more 9 Days in the Kingdom photographers' interviews:
Manit Sriwanichpoom
James Nachtwey

Manit Sriwanichpoom shot to fame with his Pink Man series, where a man in a fluorescent pink suit haunts Bangkok, the Thai countryside, Europe, or even historical photographs. The Pink Man often pushes an empty pink shopping cart, which makes him look even more out of place and desperate.

Manit’s new exhibit, Ordinary/Extraordinary, at the Tang Gallery, is very different. It features 60 unadorned black and white photographs of his neighbors’ faces. Runs through Feb 17, Tang Gallery, The Silom Galleria, Unit B28 (Basement) 919/1 Silom Rd., 02-630-1114, Open Mon-Sat 11AM-7PM. www.tanggallery.com.

Manit has also just opened a gallery (it was too small for his current exhibit). Kathmandu Gallery features his black and white street photography, books, other people’s books, and another exhibit on the second floor that will rotate. Currently, prominent political figure and activist Kraisak Choonhavan turns artist, showing a world without billboards (through March 29th). Kathmandu Photo Gallery, 87 Pan Road, by the Indian Temple, Silom, 022346700.

Manit is also issuing 100 Pink Man dolls to celebrate the 10 years of Pink Man and has just finished work on the 9 Days in the Kindgom book in which he choose to photograph Thailand’s upper class in their homes.

(above portrait by me, pics hereafter are Manit's own art)

Your work is very political and critical. Have you ever gotten into trouble?

In 2001, one man came to the show and left a note saying that, at first, he was very angry when he heard that I had put the Pink Man in a picture of the Oct. 14, 1973 massacre [a student uprising that called for more democracy and was brutally repressed]. He was upset that someone could play with an iconic photograph of that movement. But my intention was not to make fun, only to raise questions. What happened to these students who died for democracy? The governor of Bangkok that had just been reelected with a landslide vote [Samak Sundravej, in 2001] was believed to have supported the repression and it made me think, “Something is wrong with history, something is wrong with our memory.” The guy who had left the note explained that after seeing the exhibit, he was not angry anymore because he understood what I wanted to express.

But obviously, that man was on your side to start with, politically to the left. Did you ever get direct or indirect reactions from the people you criticize, the people in power?

No.

Well how about the picture where the Pink Man is blindfolding a scout and seated in some kind of throne. You’re criticizing Thailand’s leaders, there. Just how high up are you looking?

I don’t say “who”. The picture expresses a concept, not a single person. If you point your finger at someone, then you stop asking questions. That picture was saying that our society is dominated by poo yai [“superiors”, but a whole concept of hierarchy really] who have the right to say what you can or can’t do.

You’re one of the only Thai contemporary artists with genuine international recognition.

I don’t know. I got a letter from a nice lady in Spain who is a collector. She even wrote it in Thai. I guess that’s globalization.

[Manit is being a bit modest here. He’s had prestigious exhibits the world over, including the Venice Biennale and the Maison Europeenne de la Photographie, in Paris]

How did the Pink Man start?

It was 2 months before the economic crisis [1997], when I first experienced a hyper mall or mega mall, however you want to call it—Carrefour and Tesco. I got lost on my first day in them. I was so overwhelmed; I was shocked. I looked at the people and I thought, “This is our future?” They were piling things into their carts, enough to feed them for what seemed like years. It was scary. So I decided to create something that reflects this feeling.

Who is the Pink Man?

The Pink Man’s suit means “no identity”. It’s what people wear at the United Nations; nationality is excluded from a globalized man. The Pink Man just wants to buy, but his cart is always empty—you can buy and buy, you never feel fulfilled. The choice of fluorescent pink for the suit is because this color is considered vulgar in Thai culture, a sign of lack of taste and style. It’s a color for comedians, here.

Yes, and he has these very Thai rings [gold with big colored stones]. He’s trying to be global but he’s not entirely successful.

Yes, exactly. So, in 1997, we did three performances over three months, and I took pictures. And the Pink Man was born. I didn’t expect he would live for 10 years. Now, I think it’s time to push him onto an altar. He deserves to be there. Why not? Seriously, I’m not joking. He might even bring luck to those that worship him, make real magic. Anything could happen. This is why I created the Pink Man statuettes.

In your pictures, it seems the Pink Man has assumed different roles. At time, he represents your average Thai, but at other times, you place him in a position of power, as in the picture where he hands out pink blankets in a village. So he symbolizes the powers-that-be and the common man at the same time?

Mmmh… yes, he does seem to be in a position of power in some pictures but in essence, he’s always a symbol of the common people’s dreams.

Thais have a ghost that is very important to their culture, the Hungry Ghost [and is afflicted with a tiny mouth and huge stomach, condemning him to eternal hunger]. You have a picture of the Pink Man called “Hungry Ghost” but couldn’t every Pink Man appearance be called “Hungry Ghost”?

Consumerism killed religion by making it obsolete. Now people are free of guilt but also of morals. Religion is corrupt too now. Monks encourage consumerism instead of being the guardians of modesty and poverty. They give blessings to increase business or your luck at playing the lottery. They promise to make people richer and richer. People have the wrong idea of what Buddhism is supposed to do.

Look at Thaksin. What is he about? He is about greed. He’s a product of corrupt morals. He can do anything he wants, because he’s tricky, and he can get away with it because he knows how to use democracy. He’s an example for Thais, a living example of extreme capitalism and consumerism. He’s the model. People look at him and think, “I want to become him.” Corruption has always been around but it was in millions of baht, he took it to the level of billions. Just look at Suvarnabhumi airport.

What about the picture of the Pink Man in front of the Eiffel Tower?

Well that’s a metaphor for how Asia has changed. The Pink Man looks Chinese, he represents all of Asia, in particular the nouveau riche. He can do the same things as westerners: travel, have a foreign girl. Foreigners come here and pick up Thai girls so the Pink Man goes to Paris and picks up a Western girl. The tables are turned. I’m showing we are not different, Asians and Westerners, it is just a question of power.

Do people ever think Manit Sriwanichpoom is the Pink Man?

Sure. They show up at the airport with my picture, to pick me up, and when I introduce myself they’re shocked. It’s funny. I want to keep a low profile. How can I do my work if people know my face? How can I go out and be an observer, take pictures in the street?

Moving on to your current exhibition. I look at these faces and I see something ancient about them. You’ve taken off their clothes so that there is no fashion to give us a sense of epoch and you’ve chosen black and white. Were you going for a Sukhothai or Ayudhaya period look?

Older than that. These faces are reminiscent of cave men, of prehistoric times. I try to reconnect with what humans really look like. Advertising has conditioned us to expect faces to be fresh, white, young and perfect—and mixed with Western genes. [As proof of this conditioning, Manit would later tell me most of his models returned the prints he offered them because they found their portraits scary]. This is a more objective vision of mankind.

But it isn’t objective. By placing the light above, you create strong shadows on the forehead and cheekbones, while the chin is dark and out of focus. This makes the faces look more Neanderthal-like.

I think this light is like the sun. It’s just one light, up above. I wanted people to concentrate only on the face. I didn’t try to make them look like anything.

I read you felt these faces want to scream or cry out.

Thais don’t express their feelings, they keep them all pent up inside. When I look at these faces, I feel like they’re about to explode, like they are time bombs. There will be a moment when it will all go, “Boom!”

You mean your pictures are alerting politicians that time is running out?

I think that if the people in power looked at these faces, they would get something out of it, yes.

There’s obviously something extremely anthropological in this project. Were you screening people for certain facial features?

No. You have Chinese, Muslim, Khmer, Lao, Northern, Isaan, and Southern. I took pictures of 70 people and kept 60.

You also said these faces tell stories through their scars and wrinkles. But they don’t; they’re giant question marks. I can see the scars but I have no idea what caused them, I can only imagine scenarios when looking at these faces.

You follow the lines on the faces and it’s like reading a story, but you are the one fabricating it.

This project is more aesthetic than the Pink Man. A few more years and you’ll be taking pictures of flowers.

I want to show the beauty in normal people. We’re bombarded with adverts that tell us what we’re supposed to think is beautiful. But the beauty is there, around us.

I see a trajectory between Pink Man and Ordinary/Extraordinary. You’re moving from a battle with the outside world (politics), to a journey inward.

To an inward battle, yes.

In a sense the two are complete opposites. With Pink Man, you were showing Thais as ugly, garish, tasteless. Here you’re showing all of them as stunningly beautiful. And yet both works are developing the same themes.

Life is so busy, I never had time to meet my neighbors. So I decided to tighten the circle of my work to my immediate surroundings. I wanted to show the beauty in the common people. After taking their picture, we smile at each other, and there’s a bond you can’t go back on. The next step is that if they have a problem, you have to be there. Everyday, I learn that there is a problem next door, or that someone has died, and I have to attend the funeral or contribute. This is what a community is about—people looking out for each other. People are scared of these ties; that’s why people in buildings don’t talk to each other.

People don’t usually show off their shoulders. It’s a private part, at least in Thailand it still is for most people. Yet your models accepted this.

Well my auntie, who runs my studio, she knew these people. I wasn’t a stranger. They trust me because I live there, I’m not going anywhere. I can’t run away from them.

Can we talk shop?
The pictures were taken with a 4x5 view camera at f/5.6, that would be f/2.8 in medium format [f/1.4-1.8 on 35mm film]. The plane of focus is tilted so that the bottom of the face it out of focus. I also have Nikon, Leica, Hasselblad, a 4x5 Linhof, and an old wooden 4x5 Crown Speedgraphic. Most of the Pink Man pictures were shot in medium format.

A tip for budding artists and photographers?
Be honest to yourself.

Related posts:
James Nachtwey
Steve McCurry

Wanchana Sawatdee is better known as "King Naresuan" as he is currently starring in the mega-blockbuster by that name. This could be his one and only role ever as Wanchana is a soldier (soon a Colonel!), not an actor. Meeting him was great. It's kind of like meeting Russel Crowe just after Gladiator came out.

Oh and Wanchana told me I'm handsome so he's now my favorite person ever.

I had the flu and the pictures were just not coming out right and I tried like 3 light setups before settling for natural light out of desperation (I dropped a flash and am not sure yet if its broken because I've been to sick to test it) but we harassed his PR for months to get our 40 minutes with him so I wasn't going to let anyone else shoot him.

The interview was conducted by Nuttaporn Srisirirungsimakul who said Wanchana is a good conversationalist but very soldier-like in his answers. He also is in his manners, standing to attention all the time (I asked him to cross his arms on the picture). Nut commented, "Well, there, we've found one, that is a real man."

Hi Nathan [Wiwat Patcharinsak]. How did the interview go?
She [Mam Suriwipa] was really nice. She was so much less aggressive than in the past. When she was young, she was the "loud fat girl", keeping control of her mob of 8 other guys in the show Yutakan Kayap Ngeuak. She's totally changed now.

Yeah, while we were sitting, watching her show [Suriwipa], she came across as a kind, polite girl.
I think she's older and wiser. She's like 40 now. It might also be the meditation she is now doing.

What was the best part of the interview?
When she said she used to think having a child was the only way to be fulfilled in life. [Mam Suriwipa can't have children] Now she feels fulfilled already.

Anything you didn't ask?
I wanted to ask her if her definition of friendship changed after the Mam Benlo incident [her co-host and friend denied allegations that she was pregnant, Suriwipa defended her, then Benlo had to admit that she really was pregnant and ditched Suriwipa in the middle of the ensuing media frenzy+lynching and escaped to the US, leaving Suriwipa very very bitter]. But I felt I shouldn't ask because she seemed so happy.

How should we rate Suriwipa?
3.5 out of 5.

Ok, I give her 4/5 for the photo shoot. She pulled some pretty hilarious poses and seemed ready to keep it up all day.

The interview of Mam Suriwipa will appear in our "Women We Love" issue (first Friday of March).

I just came back from the first press conference for much delayed and afflicted 2007 Bangkok International Film Festival. Let's see, I had a press kit when I left the CentralWorld theaters...hmm, where'd it go? Jeez, I could of swore... Ah! Here it is. Funny, it was in my pocket the whole time.

See that ticket voucher there? THAT'S the press kit for the illustrious Bangkok International Film Fest...the very same festival that brought Willem Dafoe, Oliver Stone, Catherine Deneuve and a bunch of other H'wood stars and up-and-comers to town last year. Well, as you may have heard, they're going through some budget cuts, and I guess they just couldn't afford a whole press kit for BK. Oh well!

All kidding aside, the BKK Film Fest this year is having some serious trouble, and the press conference this week allayed no ones fears in the least. After firing the American programming team that usually brings all the movies to town very late in the game (late 2006--the fest was traditionally held in February), the TAT has been tight-of-lip in terms of who will be replacing them, what films will be coming, and when the fest will happen (rumors have been going around that the fest may be canceled entirely for 2007). They are now saying-mid-year, June or July, but no announcement of even a tentative film line up has been offered.

Though the TAT may have had valid reasons for firing the former programmers of the festival, the future is spotty at best. With any luck, they can get back on their feet again and create a more Thai-centric celebration of cinema--something the Americans failed at. But as for now, distributing pathetic excuses for press releases are doing nothing but creating less confidence in the powers that be.

When I saw Tang Contemporary Art gallery was opening an exhibit with the B-word in its title, my mind was set on not missing the event.

"Hmm... this looks suspiciously like the exhibit that ran for Jim Thompson's 100th birthday," I thought. Giant painted billboards, fake press articles, a video, and even a wax scale 1:1 sculpture (see pic above): these were some of the devices that the artist had used in both exhibits. But there was also a similarity in themes: searching for a missing person, an identity defined by/in a crowd of faces, a blowing up of the persona so that it transcends the individual who owns it. (Of course, it was the same artist, Navin Rawanchaikul). It seems Navin's work is about a kind of generous egotism, or crowd individualism--I'm not sure exactly how to call it but it has to be an oxymoron.

I hope to interview Navin when he gets back from Chiang Mai.

(10 points to whoever recognizes the lone blurry figure in the background)

The exhibit runs till April 12, 2007

Tang Contemporary Art
[Mon-Sat, 11 am - 7 pm]
Unit B-28 (Basement), Silom Galleria, 919/1 Silom Road (soi 19)
02 630 1114, www.tangcontemporary.com

We ended up interviewing Mongolian artist Monkhor Erdenebayar, a.k.a. Bayar, twice (or almost). Here's my side of his interview.

How did you start painting?
I started as a child. I think all children like to draw. After I completed art school, I became interested in the contemporary style of painting. I tried to learn this style and made several abstract works at that time but I wasn’t attracted to it that much after all. So I tried to find my own style. I made a deep and expansive exploration of my originality. I found answers in the Mongolian traditions and lifestyle.

Why horses?
I like animals. At the beginning, I tried many animals—even camels. But for the last 14 years, I’ve only painted horses. While painting them, I was able to explore many different things. In 2000, I think I finally found my own style. The color red symbolizes power and energy. When people see my paintings, it can translate energy to them. Horses connect people to Nature. Horses are the beacons that lead their riders to nature. Every horse needs to move with the purpose of traveling great distances—not go around in circles like in a circus.

Do you own horses?
Yes. I’ve had horses since I was a child. At least once a year I go back to the countryside. There are 11 horses per person in Mongolia. Outside of Ulan Bator, horses in Mongolia are a very ordinary sight. I also collect woodcarvings of horses, a tradition in Mongolia, which inspire my work. [The texture of his paint is nearly chiseled and the horses are very blocky indeed].

Why the numerous horses in your painting, 9 or 18 at a time?
Maybe you think my paintings look static but they aren’t. They express motion. It’s not a repetition of the same thing. It’s like time. My feelings change constantly, so every horse I paint is slightly different. The number 9 is connected to the history of Mongolia. It’s our favorite number. It’s a symmetrical number and in the age of Genghis Khan, offering 9 white horses was highly symbolic.

If horses are a symbol of Mongolia, then are your paintings about Mongolia as a nation, or an identity?
Buddhist artworks in Mongolia originate from Tibet but you will see Buddha, in my country, rides a horse. We have many songs about horses, it's really central to our culture. The audience should have a feeling of what area of the world, what ethnicity, a certain work of art comes from. I went so far as to use hair from a horse’s tail on three of the paintings presented here. I call it, "Painting the horse by its own tail." Anyone can guess my paintings come from Central Asia. But my art is more about feelings and emotions than about giving messages.

A percentage of the proceeds from the sale of Bayar's paintings will go to funding an art school in Mongolia.

Red Horses of Mongolia runs through March 25.
Teo+Namfah Gallery, 307 Osono Complex, Sukhumvit Soi 39
Open daily 11:30am-8:30pm.
02-259-6117

It's not "Beautiful Boxer" Nong Toom who will have turned Thai Boxing into a sport for wussies, it's us city-dwelling softies. First the farang came, and they weren't fighting to feed themselves, they were fighting like some do judo, golf, or tennis, for the fun (or is it the beauty) of it. Then Muay Thai crept into the posh gyms of the inner city, transformed into friendly aerobic sessions where the only thing that ever gets punched is the air-conditioned void between you and other urbanites trying to lose a few pounds after work. The real boxing gyms are going upscale as well, and now, even Time's readers are being told to head to BKK for a change from Pilates and hot yoga.

Boxing Clever

Thursday, Mar. 15, 2007 By JENNIFER CHEN

So you've tried your hand at Thai massage and whipped up green curry at a cooking class. Yawn. How about learning how to take out an opponent with a well-timed kick? Until recently, learning Muay Thai, or Thai kickboxing, in its country of origin has been a strictly no-frills affair—think tin-roofed pavilions with old equipment and nary an electric fan in sight. But looking to tap into Muay Thai's increasing popularity, Thailand's top boxing promoter, Songchai Ratanasuban, has opened the One Songchai Institute of Muay Thai, tel: (66-2) 618 5314, a school attached to the new Bangkok Boxing Stadium.

continued on Time.com, link.

Funny because travelling back into Time's archives, you use to get a bloody nose when you attempted this kind of stuff. Not only that but the 2003 piece I found was written by the NYC prep kid Nick McDonell who was hailed, back in the days, as the new Brett Easton Ellis for his novel Twelve. Trust me, he wasn't anywhere close. Still, it's funny to know he was a Bangkokian for a while. I mean this is a guy who commended headlines like "Don't Hate Him Because He's Young, Good-Looking, Privileged, Impeccably Connected, and About to Publish His Second Novel, The charmed life of Nick McDonell." (New York Magazine, link). Here's his bio:

Nick McDonell (born in Manhattan on February 18, 1984 as Robert Nicholas McDonell) is an American writer. He will graduate from Harvard College in January 2007.

He wrote the novel Twelve in 2002, at age 17. The subject of the novel is violence and drug use among wealthy Manhattan teenagers. The publication of McDonell's novel at such a young age was the subject of many articles in high-profile publications such The New Yorker and Entertainment Weekly.

McDonell's father, Terry "Big Sky" McDonell, is the managing editor of Sports Illustrated magazine, and was a friend of Hunter S. Thompson; they met because they both worked at Rolling Stone magazine.

Nick McDonell's second novel, The Third Brother (ISBN 0-8021-1802-X), was released in September of 2005, and tells the story of a 19-year-old Harvard student who is deeply affected by time he spends in Bangkok working as an intern reporter. McDonell himself interned for Time Asia, under then managing editor Karl Taro Greenfeld--who now works for his father at Sports Illustrated.

from Wikipedia, link.

So here it is, McDonell's take on Muay Thai. I must say, it's the first thing I read on Muay Thai that I like and that spares us the sensationalist crap this sport somehow commends from first time viewers (I'm not linking to the audio byte on the Lonely Planet website as an example, I like you too much).

Getting in a Few Good Shots Is What Mattered

Monday, Aug. 04, 2003 By NICK MCDONELL | BANGKOK

Yok was once the best fighter, the toughest man in Bangkok, and he stares at the foreigner, the farang. They are seated at an uneven wooden table next to a dirty canvas boxing ring between two concrete supports of the highway that arches over Bangkok's Khlong Toei slum. Beyond one of the supports is a dumping ground for a local trucking company. Beyond the other, the shacks begin. And everywhere there are roosters and dogs, dozens of vomit-colored, fidgety mongrels. The dogs chase everything down.

The Khlong Toei Boxing Camp for Youth is famous the way a local bar might be. The cops know the camp and like it. It keeps tough kids off the streets, gives them a place to beat each other up. Neighbors stop by, riding motorcycles through the low gate. A tired-looking young man working in the nearby Catholic Mission knows all about the camp and smiles when he talks about it. "Good place, good, good," comes through in his broken English. "Ask for Yok."

Westerners have come to the boxing camp with questions before. But they don't ask about boxing, and Yok isn't talkative. If he really liked to talk, he wouldn't have been a fighter, Champion of Bangkok three times. TRIUMPH IN LUMPINI STADIUM would scream the headline of Yok's life. Now he is a trainer, doing what he can for the boys, keeping busy with his camp. But the camp is not really his . It belongs to a Chinese shop owner who put up the money for the ring, the heavy bags, the gloves. The Chinese man leaves some money every day for Yok to buy food for the 20 boys who live under a tin roof next to the ring. They are all under 22, some are just six or seven. The Chinese man is generous. He doesn't even gamble on the fights. Sometimes he just walks through the camp, watches the fighters. "Makes him smile," says Yok.

The boys, his fighters, have had an easy day. After their running, Yok allows them to play football in the broken field behind the trash heaps . Yok watches them from his crooked table. He is not busy now and has time to talk, but the questions are about the Prime Minister and his drug war, about matters outside the camp, things that Yok cannot control. Yok's own trainer, who was to him as he is to the boys, was executed in the country's drug crackdown very recently in the North, and it is not good to talk about that. Yok looks at the farang with a question of his own: Does he like boxing? Does he want to fight?

A nod from the farang, and Yok smiles. He calls one of his fighters from football. The boy, Tao, 19, is short but hard as a cannonball.

The sparring match between the farang and Tao draws the whole camp. The fighting cocks walking the field follow, and the dogs follow the cocks. The boys lean on the ring and watch the gloves go on. Jokes are cracked, bets jested. But no one, of course, has any money. The gloves are thin and dark, not the big red cartoonish gloves of Western boxing. Both fighters go shirtless. The farang is much taller, but size means nothing and in fact can be a handicap. It must be lived up to.

The blows are tentative, pawing at first but then crack, and "Oyoyoyo" the boys scream around the ring. To the farang, it seems as if even the dogs are howling and the roosters are crowing. A correctly thrown one-two is shocking as one fist replaces the other in the eye. Tao is dancing effortlessly. The next time the gloves skid along the farang's eyeballs, a contact lens pirouettes on his eyelashes, flashing and distracting. And another crack.

The farang is lumbering and squinting through one eye. This is the nadir of his fight, wheezing from cigarettes that the boys don't smoke, slow from television that the boys don't watch, soft from the carbohydrated West the boys will never visit. So crack and crack and crack. Until return crack and triumph! An even greater "Oyoyoyo" for the farang. Lots of laughter. Ha, Tao, he tagged you.

But Tao is confident and is not flustered by this. Lucky shot, and he knows it. At his leisure he sends the final crack, and the farang is bloody and staggered. Yok stops the fight and comes with water. As it washes the blood away and falls red from the ring, the dogs drink it up. Yok smiles at the farang. The fight was a laugh, a good joke on a slow day.

In front of the ring, the would-be gamblers have a bottle of Jack Daniels, and one of them, in a Bob Marley shirt, offers the farang a full plastic tumbler on his way out of the ring. The light is dusky and fading, and the boys go to play a guitar by the heavy bags. They belt their songs up into the dark bottom of the highway. The lamps strung up around the camp sputter on. Yok hands the farang the water bottle and motions for him to clean his face of the blood again. The farang no longer thinks of any questions.

from Time.com, here.

So I looked up what his second novel was all about and here's what Amazon.co.uk had to say:

"Mike is spending the summer working for a magazine in Hong Kong when Christopher Dorr, a brilliant journalist, goes missing in Thailand. Mike's editor sends him to Bangkok to report on a drug-tourism crackdown, but Mike's real mission is to find Dorr, who is an old friend of his parents. This is the beginning of a vertiginous journey that propels Mike into fast and seedy nights in Thailand and back to New York, to a home wrecked by violence. "The Third Brother" moves with the speed of a bullet to portray a young man - and a family - shattered by lies and excess."

More bad news for the ill-fated Bangkok International Film Fest '07. Mai Meksawan, who has been working with the fest for several years, just turned in her badge and is making her way to greener pastures... Here's the resignation email our office got this week.

"Dear everyone,

It's been a pleasure working with all of you during my tenure at the Bangkok International Film Festival. I'm happy to announce that I will be moving on to new professional pursuits in the film industry and will update you with my new work contact information soon. I look forward to new opportunities for a collaboration with you all again in the near future....

With very best wishes,

Mai Meksawan"

We don't mean to speculate--Mai very well may be chasing "new professional pursuits in the film industry"--but considering the events leading up to this year's fest, including the mysterious, information-less press conference they held a few weeks ago, we can't help but think that this too hints that things are none too well in the BKKIFF offices.

Sometimes the interview you read in BK is a very close to the conversation that actually took place, only much shorter. Sometimes, the “real” conversation took place between the lines.

In the case of ML Nattakorn Devakula, a lot will be missing. “I can’t answer that” or “You know who” or “You can turn that recorder off now” came up quite a few times during the interview—which sounds more annoying than it really was. It was more like being part of a secret society, plotting a coup or something, the only question was, “Whose side are we on?” I was nodding my head but really, at times, I had no idea what he meant. Excerpt: “There is a very simple way of making sure there will never be a coup again in Thailand, but I can’t tell you what that is, because of the people it involves.” Uh… Ok.

And next thing we knew, there we were, one excited editorial intern (Ki), one mildly bored photo intern (Nick), one photographer (moi), and one senior wrier (Maprang) in a taxi on the way back to the office, trying to guess what it was we were suppose to know but couldn’t say. Military dictatorship? Republic? Handing over Thailand to Laos (that’s my guess, I always believed it would be only fair to let them rule Thailand for 30 years as penitence for all those mean Lao jokes).

When I was 18, I went to Tunisia, and there was secret police in cafes so that my friends would whack me on the head if I even began to mention the dictat… *whack* president. “Imagine living here…” I wondered. Now I know.

photo by me :)

At the time Daniel Cuthbert and I interviewed photographer James Nachtwey (link), he had just finished shooting at Wat Phra Baht Nam Phu pictures of terminally ill multi-infected patients suffering from HIV and TB (tuberculosis). Chance had it that my recent trip to New York coincided with his exhibit there, at the UN, on TB sufferers throughout the world. Pictures from Thailand were, of course, included.

It was a very very moving exhibit. Nachtwey is really one the best living photojournalists—make that of all times. You could really feel the pain of those patients, and the pain of those left behind.

When I saw some Thai novice monks walking towards the exhibit, I thought, “They probably don’t expect to see pictures from Thailand here.” They glided past the pictures. One held up a camcorder to the pictures, never breaking stride, the others walked off, one did paused to snap a picture. “That was Wat Lop Buri, right?” They asked each other, walking off. They then proceeded to spend 30 minutes in front of the pictures of the UN’s past Secretary Generals, that are, as you can see on the picture, to the right of the frame, just next to the exhibit. These images they inspected carefully. These images they cared about. These images were “important”. Can we realistically except more from a teenage tourist (whatever his faith or nationality)? Or was it, as Manit Sriwanichpoom describes it (his interview here), a perfect example of the Thai obsession for poo yai (important, rich or powerful people)?

More on TB, here. US$650 million are still needed to fight this epidemic. In 2005, nearly 1.6 million people died of tuberculosis.

I don’t know how you spend your Sundays but, me, I like to kick the day off with a presidential election, swing by the Sukhothai for brunch, drive out to Bangkapi for some break-dancing, then head down to Bed Supperclub for a chat with a transgender performer. I can't wait to get back to work.

The elections

I'd forgotten how French the French are. At the ambassade, Nobody crossed eyes with me or said hi, just like a Monday morning in the Paris metro. We’re so cold, we could be Japanese. “Why do you live here?” a charming reporter from Volume would later ask me at the Sukhothai. “The people,” was my answer, as in, “To get away from my people.”

I voted “Royal”, thinking it meant France would get its monarchy back. I have a nagging feeling there’s something I didn’t understand correctly. Anyway, she lost.

The Sukhothai

“The Sunday Brunch just got Better” said a little plastic thingy on the table. You know what? It did. I was in there a couple months ago and I wasn’t exactly blown away. It was good but it was missing some kind of “wow” factor. Problem solved. Vodka marinated salmon, how cool is that? I’ll have a Bloody Mary with that any Sunday. But there’s more! Read about it in BK’s New and Noted column. And if you want a rich gay Singaporean boyfriend, they're here. Waitress: "You look tired, sir." Guy with his boyfriend: "I was at DJ, last night."

Cheno’s Break-Dancing Studio

Now I know the difference between break-dancing and hip hop dancing. Soon, you will too. The dance issue is coming Jun 1. Thank God Cheno also teaches in town.

Candi Stratton

We need to import trans-gender impersonators? Are you kidding me? I thought we had so many some even have to pick up Thai boxing to make a living.

Granted, Candi does more than lip-synch. She’s a kind of drag queen/air hostess/stand-up comedian, strutting around the dining room of Bed Supperclub making Singaporean gay couples (yes they're everywhere) blush as she makes them admit they come to Bangkok only to go to Babylon. Her interview, and our review of Babylon now that I mention it, in the May 18 G-Issue. As KTC would say, “I am!”

What about dinner? Sunchoke Broth with Goats Cheese Foam and Porcini Powder followed by Seared Swordfish Coated in Zaatar Served with a Saffron Chickpea Puree, Wok Seared Cucumber Salad and Yellow Pepper Relish, and, for dessert, Feijoa Crumble with Brown Butter Ice Cream and Banana Ravoilo. Bon Appetit.

Alisara Chirapongse, a.k.a. Kitty, kicked some ministerial butt the other day. Anyone kicking ministerial butt, particularly when the government in place is that of a military dictatorship, is big news anytime, but when the kung fu journalist is one of our one, that gets us positively psyched.

On June 26, the FCCT organized an evening with "The Man Who Banned Youtube", minister of information and communication technology Sitthichai Pookaiudom. Apparently, he started the evening by being fresh, winning over the mainly expat audience, until Kitty started asking some real questions and he made the very serious mistake of brushing her off. In the words of Real Life Thailand, it went like this.

Step forward Kitty from BK magazine. Kitty posed the question many had been waiting for: "There's so much more to youtube than a few offensive videos and there's more to the Internet than golf scores, [1] what gives you the right to block it?"

Buoyed by his crowd pleasing jokes, Sitthichai made a misjudgement as quipped to young Kitty "When you grow up, you'll understand". Unfazed, Kitty replied: "Why do you have to make deemening jokes about me , or women or people's looks all the time?" to a round of applause from sections of the audience including me.
(link)

[1] That thing about the golf scores is because the minister of technology had earlier admitted that he knows close to nothing about internet and only uses it to check golf scores. In fact, this slightly apologetic and self-deprecating tone seems to be his hallmark, which had those in attendance wondering, if he thinks he's not up to the job, and doesn't even like his job, why did he accept his job?

The big news is that he promised "off the record" (never mind the room full of journalists) that the Youtube ban would soon be lifted.

More posts on that evening:

Gnarly Kitty.
Pink (from Channel 9).
Bangkok Pundit.