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| Last Life in the Universe |
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  (9/10)
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Runtime: 112 |
| Public Rating: 10.00 (2 votes) |
Director: Pen-Ek Ratanaruang |
MPAA Rating:  |
| Genre: Drama |
Year: 2003 |
| Writer(s): Prabda Yoon, Pen-Ek Ratanaruang |
| Distributor: Palm Pictures |
| Reviewed by: Aaron West |
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The Last Life in the Universe project came about simply as an excuse for Thai New Wave director to work with perennially worshipped cinemaphotographer, Christopher Doyle, whom he had met on occasion at various festivals they had both attended. His intent, most likely, was to create a visually stunning, character-based film in the vein of Wong Kar Wai, albeit at a fraction of the budget. The quirky script for Last Life had been collecting dust, for the most part, but its interesting characters were a good fit for the filmmaking team. The unlikely result wasn’t In the Mood for Love, part 2, but instead a conflicting identity film, similar in a way to Lost in Translation.
Last Life opens with several telling images that give us a good idea as to Kenji’s character. We see his vast book collection, obsessively organized; we see his immaculate shoes, a pair for each day of the week; then we see Kenji standing on a stack of books, his neck enshrouded by a meticulously tied noose. If you can’t tell, Kenji is a bit obsessive-compulsive and wants to die. He doesn’t have a reason; that’s just the way it is Kenji’s constantly attempts suicide throughout the movie, but he’s usually interrupted seconds before the act can be completed. In this first scene, he is interrupted by his brother, who merely brushes off the attempt as silly, probably not taking it seriously.
I really can’t go much further in discussing the plot without spoiling the film somewhat, so I’ll skip ahead a bit. Kenji is later forced by circumstance to leave his house. He takes refuge with an attractive Thai woman named Noi, who has just lost her sister, Nid. His new friend is the polar opposite of him. She’s terminally messy, lives carefree, has a crude mouth and a whimsical nature. The two characters are in perfect contrast to each other, with some comedic results. Due to a language barrier, which I’ll discuss a bit more later, she never really finds out why he’s there. He just stays. At first she persists that he go home, but eventually she relents, partly because of her casual persona, but probably also because he takes it upon himself to clean her house.
Kenji is Japanese, living in Bangkok, Thailand (probably for employment reasons), yet speaks little Thai. Noi is Thai, preparing to move to Japan, but speaks little Japanese. Fortunately for the script, they are both fluent in English. The communication between the two becomes tri-lingual, if you can call it that. They both the other’s language conversationally, but any real talk takes place in English. This language barrier works effectively, not only at further articulating the contrast between the two, but it also develops character. Kenji probably speaks more broken Thai than Noi speaks broken Japanese, and it usually comes in the form of hello or thank you, and as always, he says it obsessively. Noi is the only one to speak her native language much, but this is usually because she wants to say something Kenji can’t understand, and sometimes she naturally breaks into it because of her complacent personality.
The state of Kenji’s apartment and Noi’s house also say a great deal about the characters. At one point, Kenji gives Noi a simple reason why he can’t stay at his house, which is maybe the funniest line in the movie (which can’t be uttered here due to the spoiler). He chooses to stay with Noi, with dishes that haven’t been done in weeks, reams of loose paper, scattered about. While he ultimately stays there out of necessity, it says plenty about his affection towards Noi that he’ll endure her cleaning habits. As obsessive as we know him to be, we know it must be torture to watch her leave something disgusting on a table.
Christopher Doyle’s camera work is as wonderful as we expect from him, but isn’t as much of a factor as in other films, such as In the Mood for Love, Infernal Affairs, or Hero. Last Life doesn’t have the budget for such atmospheric effects, plus it simply isn’t a visually intensive movie, and really shouldn’t be. If anything, it’s nice to see Doyle’s work without a visually minded director like Wong Kar Wai or Zhang Yimou (who used to be a cinematographer himself). Doyle is a welcome addition and his presence certain affects the film’s overall quality, but not as much as his previous work.
What I really admire about Last Life is the ambiguity. It can’t be called confusing, like a Mulholland Drive or Memento, but there are certain things that aren’t explained and left to the imagination. This is the type of thing I wish more directors would allow, as it increases the audience experience. We can plug in our own theories as to what is happen, which makes the film more rewatchable, as we search for clues. Ratanaruang explains so much with imagery, language and reactions that it almost seems pointless for him to reveal every last detail, and his film would suffer for it.
Last Life ranks up with there with the greatest character pieces of the modern era, and that includes the In the Mood for Loves, the Lost in Translation, and surpasses anything other Asian auteurs are coming up with these days.
© Aaron West, May 27, 2005
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