By the Time It Gets Dark movie review (2017) | Little White Lies

By the Time It Gets Dark

19 Jun 2017 / Released: 16 Jun 2017

Two figures silhouetted against a bright, sun-dappled forest backdrop.
Two figures silhouetted against a bright, sun-dappled forest backdrop.
4

Anticipation.

Anocha Suwichakornpong’s debut Mundane History won praise; we’re excited to see her second effort.

4

Enjoyment.

This dreamlike journey into the imagination is never predictable.

3

In Retrospect.

It could do with more structure underneath the free-flowing streams of consciousness.

Anocha Suwichakornpong’s dream­like inves­ti­ga­tion into the his­to­ry of activism in Thai­land is well worth catching.

Young doc­u­men­tary mak­er Ann (Vis­ra Vichit-Vadakan) inter­views the ring­leader of a real-life 1976 Thai stu­dent protest, which was sup­pressed with hor­rif­ic bru­tal­i­ty by the mil­i­tary. Ann strug­gles with her role in rep­re­sent­ing the move­ment, ques­tion­ing her own work in the face of a woman she sees as liv­ing his­to­ry’. This is the decep­tive­ly sim­ple premise of By the Time It Gets Dark, the exper­i­men­tal sec­ond fea­ture from Thai direc­tor Anocha Suwichako­rn­pong, but it doesn’t stay decep­tive­ly sim­ple for long.

Walk­ing in a near­by for­est, Ann has a strange, Alice in Wonderland’-style encounter which shifts the nar­ra­tive into a lucid dream state. Styl­is­ti­cal­ly, the film rides the wave of recent Thai inde­pen­dent cin­e­ma as pio­neered by the Palme d’Or-winning direc­tor Apichat­pong Weerasethakul. The sto­ry wan­ders across space and time, cut­ting seam­less­ly from real­ism to fan­ta­sy to naked self-reflexivity.

Thailand’s trau­mat­ic his­to­ry is touched upon, albeit oblique­ly, as the Thai cen­sor­ship board is noto­ri­ous­ly tetchy when it comes to depict­ing state-endorsed vio­lence. Although these ele­ments may seem famil­iar, the direc­tor brings her own unique con­cerns into the mix, feed­ing her rest­less angst through a vivid­ly hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry fil­ter. Scenes are replayed with dif­fer­ent actors; char­ac­ters shift per­sonas – like Ann, they seem unsure of them­selves and their place in the world.

Thailand’s class struc­tures are acute­ly observed as we meet a pop star
and his good-look­ing friends. In the back­ground is a young woman who is ini­tial­ly seen work­ing in a coun­try­side cof­fee shop, and lat­er rein­car­nat­ed as a hotel clean­er and a nun. Occa­sion­al­ly, the film feels a lit­tle too loose – it tries to encom­pass too much.

Suwichako­rn­pong doesn’t quite have the same archi­tec­tur­al pre­ci­sion that allows Weerasethakul’s cin­e­ma to veer off into bizarre ter­ri­to­ry while retain­ing a coher­ent shape. Nonethe­less, it’s an ele­gant look at mod­ern Thai­land, and a won­der­ful­ly ambi­tious piece of filmmaking.

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