Syndromes and a Century
This acclaimed Thai movie, from writer-director Apichatpong Weerasethakul, is difficult and borderline impenetrable, but never unpleasant to watch. It moves to a rhythm all its own and boasts gorgeous imagery and delicate, authentic human interaction. Weerasethakul has said he based “Syndromes and a Century” upon the courtship of his parents, both doctors, and his memories of growing up in a hospital environment. It’s an adequate explanation, but you’d never know it unless you’d read about the movie before you saw it. Nevertheless, “Syndromes” grips you. It begins with a cryptic job interview at a rural military hospital. A female psychatrist asks a series of odd questions (”Do you prefer circles, squares or triangles?”) to an eager, unflappable male physician. During this exchange, another man waits for the long-limbed and elegant psychiatrist. Later, he spies on her in the cafeteria of the hospital — the campus is surrounded by edenic wilderness — and when he sees her walking down a hallway by herself, he asks her to marry him. She demurs and leads him to a secluded picnic table, where she describes her previous romantic entanglement with a botanist. Their story, however, doesn’t conclude; Weerasethakul detours to the tender, burgeoning friendship between a singing dentist (he favors Thai country music) and a young Buddhist monk. An evening performance by the dentist produces indescribable pleasure from the weaving of sound and image. The deep black of the night sky radiates around the electric green of the singer’s shirt as he croons a simple love song, accompanied by an acoustic guitar. After the show, the monk tells the dentist he thinks the dentist may be the reincarnation of his brother, who died young. I can’t really describe how intriguing and emotionally resonant these scenes are, but as they play out they enrapture you. Earlier, the psychiatrist has an uncomfortable exchange with a man who owes her money, which Weerasethakul observes, as is his wont, at a distance and in a single take; despite the camera’s remove, you feel the ragged humanity of the participants, and they are framed seductively by tropical vegetation that sways in the breeze.
The second half of the movie, set at a cold and intimidating urban hospital, is odder and more dissonant, even as several scenes — including the job interview — are more or less repeated, with subtle changes in the dialogue. Weerasethakul reverses the camera angle when he plays out these exchanges a second time. While earlier he was looking out the window, this time the camera is hemmed in by spotless white walls; the effect is claustrophobic. Amputees roam the halls of this hospital, sometimes trying out new artificial limbs. A young man who suffered carbon monoxide poisoning ruefully looks forward to his next life; the CO has left his brain a step slow but not so slow that he doesn’t understand his sad situation. The building’s ductwork groans and creaks, and the camera follows the sounds. The movie’s second half has a haunted, wounded feeling, as if the participants are struggling to make sense of their surroundings. The viewer aches for the beauty and relative simplicity of the rural setting. There is one startlingly intimate scene, between the same male doctor who’s subjected to the interview and his girlfriend. They make out tenderly, and she urges him to consider moving with her to the grim suburban outpost where her company will soon be sending her to work. He’s not thrilled with the idea. They kiss some more, and he gets a boner.
These odd scenes create inchoate sensations, but the movie instills in you a hunger to know more, to unlock its mysteries. If you’re like me, you’ll want to go back and watch it again immediately after it’s over. (I did watch it twice, but, regrettably, I’m writing this review several weeks later.) Weerasethakul’s concept of time is elastic; the movie seems to exist on a loop. I could recommend “Syndromes and a Century” just for the novelty of the viewing experience, but it’s more than just a curiosity; it’s rich, sweet and strangely resonant.