Open Borders

BOYD VAN HOEIJ reports from the frontlines of the war between Keira Knightley and Apichatpong Weerasethakul

While standing in line like any other mortal for a multiplex screening of Enchanted on a Friday night - this film critic prefers to see films, and especially comedies, with a regular audience - I had to suppress a laugh as I was reminded of what I had read earlier that day about the current state of cinema as described by US critic Nathan Lee: "Good riddance to the era of Antonioni and Bergman, says I - all hail the age of Apichatpong Weerasethakul!"

I wondered just how many of the rowdy teens that were about to laugh at Susan Sarandon's miserable caricature of a Disney villain with me would recognise any of these three names. Fifty? Ten? Three? Just me? And here's an even a more depressing thought: in all likelihood, more teenagers would at least vaguely recognise the names of the two masters (who both died last year but haven't produced anything groundbreaking since before these teenagers were born) than the official moniker of cinema's new Messiah.

Now, if the name of his royal highness Apichatpong Weerasethakul does not ring a bell, then this article is probably not for you. It won't interest you. And I don't want to talk to you anymore. Go away!

There. Now that we have rid ourselves of the unclean, I can tell you a secret or two. Yes, Apichatpong Weerasethakul is the first god of cinema of this millennium, but you knew that already (or you're a good actor). And yes, there is a widening gap between how many people line up for a Weerasethakul today and how many of these people's parents and their friends used to line up for a Bergman, Antonioni, Fellini, Godard or a Truffaut. But general box-office returns are still very healthy. They just seem to go to different films; films that feature Mr Bean on holiday, the combination of water and Keira Knightley or films with some bald guy fond of screaming "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!" So why are film critics raving about the thirtysomething Thai director most people don't know from Adam? And why are "most people" not lining up around the block for the meditative, often bifurcated memory pieces that are, according to the critics, the greatest thing since sliced, er, Pad Thai? The answer is actually more straightforward than you might think and all rests on a simple misunderstanding. When most people (to continue the use of that awkward tool of gross generalisation) go to the cinema, they don't want to see a great film. They really don't. They are plunking down their hard-earned pounds for a great evening out, which is something very different. The artistic value of the film is about as important as the colour of the carpet.

What they want is to sit in the dark and be entertained. They want to munch on overpriced popcorn. They want be taken on a ride, forget their troubles and if possible smooch the person next to them under the cover of darkness. They want to stick their straw in an oversized bucket of cola. And contrary to popular belief, you don't actually need a great film to do that. "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!" will do all of that for you and more.

Of all the arts, none has become such a popular form of leisure activity as going to the movies - or, to be more precise, consuming movies. Which is why many films, especially in the US but also in Europe and elsewhere, are conceived as consumer goods rather than artistic products. The artisans hired to work on the film might be referred to as artists, but more often than not it is the people with the money who have the final say over their product.

The so-called event movies come with carefully selected ingredients (Julia Roberts, Tom Hanks, adventure, romance, exotic locales, nice music) that are put together to make the cinematic equivalent of a fancy hamburger. The films even come with advertising budgets that often exceed the actual cost of making the film. The main goal of the producers? Make their money back and then some. Provide quick satisfaction in case of a suspected pang of hunger from the audience. Appeal to their basic needs. Bread and circuses. And did I mention they want to make their money back?

Films of the Weerasethakul variety, in comparison, are like the organically grown and carefully balanced products you find hidden away in secret nooks at your local supermarket. Everyone knows they're there and that apparently they're little dietary miracles in a box, but most people (them again!) avoid them like the plague. Evil voices have even suggested watching one of these art films might persuade people to think for themselves. The horror!

So is there no hope for serious movies? Will the popcorn army ever ditch their Keira Knightley in shining armour in favour of Apichatpong Weerasethakul, the healthy option? Or is that as likely as the chance you will have remembered how to spell the director's name by the end of this article? (Full disclosure: I know of no film writer who doesn't copy-and-paste his name from IMDb.com, just to be sure.) There is only one way to get to some kind of truce: for critics to embrace obvious money-makers a little more, respecting the work of the artists behind the product despite possible sacrifices to the mainstream, and for audiences to be a little more adventurous. I'll keep my side of the bargain if you keep yours.

You know, Enchanted was actually a jolly good ride and even tipped its hat to the cinematically literate with references to older films that are much respected, like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Cinderella and The Black Cauldron (okay, maybe that one is not so well respected). Who cares if it makes shopping with a stolen credit card look like the height of girl power? I'll shut up now.

Because it's your turn. Go catch a Weerasethakul when you're down and out. It won't make you feel any better and any shape or form of smooching is highly unlikely, but at least you'll have seen the cinema of tomorrow. And that's no small feat.

Oh, and by the way: Apichatpong Weerasethakul doesn't mind if you call him "Joe". He's really nice like that with foreigners. Just don't tell him you actually prefer Keira's movies to his.

Boyd van Hoeij is a freelance film writer and edits www.european-films.net. He studied in the UK but now lives in Luxembourg (when not attending film festivals). Fabrizio Maltese is a freelance photographer specialising in cinema portraits and events. His portfolio is available at www.fabriziomaltese.com.