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On our first morning in Bangkok, the executive director for the Bangkok International Film Festival, Craig Prater, sat at our table, holding back tears.
I had asked how the tsunami disaster had impacted the festival. It all seemed so far away from the terrace here at the Shangri-La Hotel by the Chao Phraya River.
Prater related how he had been in his office a short time before the start of the festival. A woman had come to see him. She explained she was the mother of one of the star liaisons of last year’s
festival. The liaisons are young, English-speaking college students, a group of more than 200 who volunteer to help with the festival. They are a delight. They are the laughter of the festival.
Craig recalled the young man proudly, and told her he hoped he would be able to join the liaison team again this year.
The mother then broke it to him—she was there to apologize in person that her son would not be able to help this year. He had been killed by the tsunami.
If the loss of such a bright, lively young man was not enough of a tragedy, here was his mother sitting in his office—apologizing for his death.
When I first heard news of the tsunami, coming hard on the heels of Christmas, I got the feeling this trip to Thailand would be different than the last. When I heard Craig’s story, I knew it beyond a doubt.
Though Bangkok had not been hit directly, in Thailand, everybody it seemed knew someone, somewhere, who had suffered a loss. The princess who had brought such glamour and prestige to the festival last year wasn’t exempt. Her 21-year-old autistic son was killed in Phuket. Her young daughter plunged into relief efforts on the part of the Thai royal family.
The question arose: How does one manage the glitz and glamour of an international film festival in the context of the aftermath of a disaster?
As it turned out, clumsily at times, but with the will of professionals who wanted to prove that, indeed, the show does go on.
The Thai government needed to let the world know, as best it could, that Thailand was still open for business, and tourists could travel safely, and comfortably, to the country.
On one level, it may seem callous; however, without the continuation of tourism, more people in the country would suffer. It was a brave move to continue the festival, amongst the criticism that was easy to dish out in such a contradictory setting.
The fact that it proceeded imperfectly isn’t something I feel willing to criticize. Everyone was doing the best they could.
Maybe it was the horrible sickness that Delphine (Lucas, my wife) came down with almost immediately after our arrival. Or maybe it was the tsunami’s effect permeating the country. Whatever it was, we
instinctively shied away from most formal festival events. The subdued opening night featured “Red Dust,” a well-done film about a South African Truth and Reconciliation hearing. Dust proved to be a serious,
gripping film, the feature film directorial debut of Tom Hooper, starring Hilary Swank and Chiwetel Ejiofor.
Among the exceptional films from around the globe that we took in, several charmed us to the core. “Citizen Dog” was our favorite Thai offering—a silly, surrealistic romance, of sorts, as beautiful as it was
odd. I’ll never tap my finger or recycle a plastic bottle without thinking about this film.
“What Remains of Us” was a thoughtful documentary about a young Tibetan
woman, a refugee living in Canada, Kalsang Dolma, who braved a dozen secret trips into Tibet to show a video of the Dalai Lama to Tibetans
who continue to revere him and his teachings through decades of persecution.
The film was more a heartbreaking personal journey for Dolma, who spoke at the showing, calling for support for a free Tibet, while the film itself made a good case that the cause is lost.
A Touch of Spice, a Greek-Turkish film, used food, especially spices, to masterfully relate the story of a Greek family’s expulsion from Constantinople. You can always go home, but you cannot turn back
time. A humane story that deals with the ramifications of inhuman political decisions.
A personal favorite at the festival turned out to be the Indian film, “Hari Om.”
It is a wonderful many-faceted gem of a film by Bharatbala during his feature film directing debut, with the talented Vijay Raaz as Hari Om, a happy-go-lucky rickshaw driver whose gambling luck runs out. Hari Om’s escape from those trying to collect on his debts sends him on an adventure through Rajasthan with a young French woman, Camille, who hires him to show her the sights in Jaipur. Their travels, and the intersection of their two worlds, provides for a stunningly beautiful journey and a genuinely touching story.
It may sound odd, but Hollywood could learn something from Bharatbala.
While Hollywood epics, such as “Phantom of the Opera,” cost $100 million or so, and while technically perfect, elicit a yawn, Bharatbala put together 108 minutes of sheer delight—for about 100th of Phantom’s budget. Bharatbala e-mailed me recently to say he may come to Southern California sometime in the near future. If so, The
Sun Runner will do what we can to host a showing of Hari Om.
Somewhere during this trip, the madness, noise, smells and insanity known collectively as “Bangkok,” got to be a bit much for the two of us.
Having lost a week to Delphine’s sickness, we were ready to escape the city and see something more of Thailand. With our remaining time at a premium, places like Chiang Mai, in the north, were out of reach. Looking at locations we could travel in a day, we chose Ayutthaya, the ancient royal Thai capital.
Ayutthaya, one-and-a-half hours from Bangkok’s Hualomphong Station by train, is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Surrounded on all sides by the confluence of three major rivers, it was truly the “Venice of the
East,” during its prime.
With the ruins of temples dating from the 1300s through the 1700s (the city was destroyed by the Burmese around the time of the American Revolution), it is easy to get lost in time in Ayutthaya.
We hired a tuk-tuk and took off, falling in love with the city’s history, and the relaxed pace of life. Another day, we found ourselves returning to Ayutthaya, this time hiring a boat to circumnavigate the
island. Children splashed in the canals, waving and smiling enthusiastically as we passed. The cool of the water kept us from the January heat, as we plied the rivers and canals.
When we returned, it took time for this trip to sink in.
This year we dug a little deeper into Thailand, and as a result, we saw aspects of the country we found disturbing, as well as things that gave us hope, and moments of great beauty. The Thai spirit, though battered by Moslem insurrection in the south, poverty, westernization, and a powerful tsunami, remains resolute. There is yet a friendly welcome in The Land of Smiles.
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