jürgen fauth’s muckworld

The only excuse I have for sitting through this straight-to-DVD clunker is the presence of Sarah Polley, who Marcy will see in absolutely anything. Ryan Phillippe, Piper Perabo and Stephen Rea are in it too, so how bad could it be?

Bad enough for the credits to misspell the star’s name: after an accident that left him dead for two minutes, Simon Cable (Ryan Phillipe [sic]) wakes up in a hospital with a case of that lazy old mindfuck standby, amnesia. He finds out that he’s got a wife who doesn’t love him (Perabo) and a lover who seems to (Polley) — but then things change again, because like Vonnegut’s Billy Pilgrim, he’s become unstuck in time, too.

The script, based on a play by Michael Cooney, dispenses the pieces of the puzzle at random, and it takes all of five minutes to suspect that it’s going to end like An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge. Still, we were willing to go along with it, but I’m here to report that while The I Inside just barely held our attention, it utterly failed to repay it. Which is a polite way of saying that it features the lamest WTF ending I’ve seen in a while. Avoid.

The I Inside. Roland Suso Richter, 2003. *

The films of Thai director Apichatpong Weerasethakul occupy a fertile space between narrative and art object, where simple interactions accumulate and gain weight in a web of meaning that is held together as much by space and mood as it is by character and story. Like Tropical Malady, his new film consists of two parts, both involving a love story between doctors. The press notes explain that what can just barely called the plot is loosely based on the memories of Weerasethakul’s parents.

Both halves of the film are set in hospitals, one in the past and the other in the present, and Syndromes and a Century is probably the strangest hospital drama since Lars von Trier’s The Kingdom: Buddhist monks come to tell their nightmares and finagle pills for their entire temple, dentists sing cowboy songs, and boozing chakra healers hide their liqour in prosthetic legs. One doctor tells a lengthy tale about wild orchids, another supposes that DDT stands for “Destroy Dirty Things.” Presents are exchanged, reincarnation is discussed, hearts are — perhaps — broken.

Among recent films, the surrealist pull of Syndromes and a Century doesn’t resemble anything as much as David Lynch’s Inland Empire, bathed in sunlight and freed from violent threats. Both films have a fragmented, time-bending structure in which themes and motifs return and form strange connections. Both directors are fond of dreamlike sequences in which the camera prowls hallways to a brooding score, and both culminate in bizarre, catchy musical numbers. But here the similarities end. While Lynch dregs shocking epiphanies from the gunk of the subconscious, Weerasethakul’s mysteries lie right on the surface, in the obvious, seemingly trivial moments that are riddle and answer at once. Opens in April.

Sang sattawat. Apichatpong Weerasethakul, 2006. ****

• Rotten Tomatoes
• At the 2006 New York Film Festival
• Official Site
• More Inland Empire, Links
• After the jump, the trailer

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