It is assured that you will be miserable watching this film; which is not to say that it lacks artistic value, just that it is entirely joyless. Directed by Rithy Pahn, a French studied and speaking director born in Phnom Pehn, Cambodia and who suffered greatly during a communist rehabilitation camp until he escaped at 15. He previously made a film on the subject of his suffering in 1989 and again decided to cover this subject with his latest film, the Oscar nominated The Missing Picture. This film appears to be an act of emotional reconciliation. However, the director’s catharsis seems only fulfilled by subjecting his latest film upon the masses to demonstrate the cruelty that was inflicted upon him.
The subject is important, the tale is hard to believe, and the history needs to have more recognition. For sure, it is a great tale of woe but, to be blunt, no one cares about someone’s tale of woe. That is not the story, that does not engage, that, as one would say in theater terms “won’t play.” Immeasurable poverty, unfathomable hunger, and inexplicable cruelty are all on full display in this film, but they die somewhere between the projector and the viewer. What thrives in a woeful tale, what inspires empathy and compassion, is the story of survival, of friendship, of internalized escape. But the director for some reason decided not to include any of that. Instead, Pahn spends his entire film detailing a bullet point list of terrible acts he had endured, and it is as entertaining or as interesting as you’d imagine a list to be.
To elaborate, all you need know about this film can be understood from its confused format. The breakdown is basically this, it wants to be a documentary and a memoir at the same time, and in attempting this, it is neither. It is, not in essence but in actuality, an hour an a half long monotone voice-over whispered over black and white historic footage perforated by moments of Claymation, or rather, clay without the ‘mation. Just clay. You’re trying to imagine this, so I’ll explain. The ‘mationless clay moments are long self-important pans of homemade dioramas depicting the sequence of squalor and ruin of a country forced into communism.
In summation, I’ve encountered no one who has any inkling why this film merited an Oscar nomination for best foreign film, arguably the greatest category the Academy has. I cannot defend this film’s artistic importance. I can however, protect you from seeing it.
Rating: Watching this film is as miserable as the story it tries to tell (1/10)
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