In case the title Si Riang Sian Tot confuses you, it’s a simple reference to Thai card-playing terms: color, straight, full-house. And in this debut comedy written and directed by actor-turned-director Supakit Tangtatsawat, these are also the names of the four main characters played by Shahkrit Yamnam, Suthep Po-ngam, Theeradanai Suwannahom and Phatra Athiratdakun.
Based on the belief that 3am is the time when the worlds of the dead and the living collide, this ghost flick sequel by Five Star production gathers three horror shorts by three different directors and boasts star power in the form of Sinjai “Nok” Plengpanich, Ray McDonald and Jirawat “War” Vachirasarunpatra. There’s been one directorial change from the first installment, as Puttipong Saisrikaew replaces Patchanon Thammajira to join Keerati Nakinthanont and Isara Nadee in the hot seats.
How did you come up with the idea for this play?
A few years back I came across this idea about writers who are experts at writing things that are easy and stupid. I call them hamburger writers because what they produce has a similar quality to junk food. It’s easy to consume, commercial and pleasing, like a soap opera. Through the work of these creatives and spin doctors, we’re close to living in a world of pure manipulation. They create images out of nothing. It’s all make believe. One big example was the Thatcher government’s “Labor Isn’t Working” campaign in the UK. In the end, it was the Conservatives who caused the problems. That just sums up how a picture can take hold in the minds of those who are so willing to believe. And, shockingly, how people can believe in something based on nothing. These thoughts come together in this play within a simulated situation taking place in Thailand, where three writers are kidnapped to help fix a problem for the prime minister.
What can we read into the name Utopian Malady?
Utopia is a term that most people are familiar with. As we are all aware, though, there’s no such thing as a perfect world—but some of us refuse to accept that. Many of us want to live in a pleasant world, yet everyone’s definition of that is not the same. It’s a disease—transmittable or not, I’m not sure—where you find yourself losing sense of what is real and what is not because of all the images and ideas put forward by the media, news and spin doctors. The Bangkok Post recently published a headline citing Suthep’s offer of a “utopian” plan. That’s amusing. Politicians relentlessly try to sell the public a utopia that doesn’t exist.
Politics have been the same over the past 40-50 years. Things change, of course, but it’s the same old game.
What can we expect?
It’s a challenge to keep things interesting in this play. As everyone now consumes information and appreciates performances from around the world, you really need to offer something weird and fierce in order to gain attention. What Utopian Malady has to offer is a seat on a rollercoaster. You can feel the dynamic drive. It drives forward. You don’t know exactly when it’s going to turn or where you’re going. That’s what you get, a certain uncertainty.
So, what is the message it tries to deliver?
It is to question the world we see and what we perceive as the truth. I believe there’s always something or someone behind what we deem to be reality. It’s like we cannot really believe in anything anymore. Nothing is sacred. There’s this saying by [American physicist and philosopher] Victor J. Stenger: “Science flies you to the moon. Religion flies you into buildings.” This play emphasizes how people choose to hold onto ideas that have been proved false—to some people, science and reasoning mean nothing.
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The year kicks off predictably with yet another Thai ghost film, this time under the production of Golden A Entertainment. The debut directorial effort of Pon Waranyu, who was assistant director in Bang Rajan 2 and Sam Chook, stars Paula Taylor, returning to the screen after a long absence, along with 9-year-old Wanisa Nuchanon. Almost needless to say, the film is not the brightest start for Thai films in 2014.
Can you explain how the process works?
Five performers eavesdrop on conversations within the event and steal—or borrow—people’s words. Then they uploaded those collected lines in real-time on the exhibition’s Facebook page. The performers also took turns to read them out loud on an amplifier to the crowd.
What inspired you to come up with this idea?
I had worked on performance art before, and I wondered, why should performance art be done at all when society already pressures us to perform all the time. What’s the use of it? The work here serves as a feedback loop to the existing performance. It’s performed performance, with action that doesn’t act. My interest is in what art can do, to be critical.
What do people take from it?
The work offers people a moment to step back and re-examine things out of context. Not only that, the exhibition features many works that make bold political statements, but there are also politics within the viewers. It’s like watching a DVD and the disc stutters. That moment kind of pulls you out of the moment. It’s not a moment of enlightenment, but of being lost.
So it’s not really about making a statement.
Actually, I think my work annoyed the attendants at the time; it was like bothersome flies. There’s a comedic side to the performance because, in fact, it can be deemed cruel or even antagonistic as you had people drinking, chatting in front of the politically-serious art. But our work doesn’t look to criticize what people did on the day. It’s just a concept. Instead of putting a mirror somewhere, we take the mirror to people.
What can we read into the words collected?
We had a wide range of words from “I’ll have beer,” “fatter,” “looks like your sister” to “yellow shirt is below. The red shirt is up there.” But even simple lines like “congratulations,” “great work” or “hi, how are you?” are a form of politics.
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