The Long Walk: A Female Gaze on Laos’ Speculative Fiction, Spirits, Attachments, and Gender Violence

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The Long Walk charmingly blends science fiction with deeply rooted Laotian spiritual beliefs, creating a film that is both haunting and thought-provoking. I watched The Long Walk at a time when its themes resonated deeply with my own life—when I had just lost two uncles. One from my paternal side and one from my maternal side within a day, both to cancer. In the past decade, I’ve experienced the loss of six family members, beginning with my mother. This film, with its haunting exploration of longing and letting go, offered a poignant reflection on these experiences through the lens of Theravada Buddhism.

It’s the oldest form of Buddhism, predominant in Southeast Asia, including Laos, Cambodia, and Thailand. It is often overshadowed by the more widely recognized Mahayana and Tantra practices in the Western world. Yet, its teachings on the impermanence of life, the nature of suffering, the cease of suffering, and the complexity of human minds and relationships are profoundly depicted in Mattie Do’s narrative.

Mattie Do, a Laotian-American filmmaker, trained as a ballerina before becoming Laos’s first and only female film director, known for her work in horror cinema. Born and raised in America after her family emigrated during the Laotian Civil War (1959-1975), Do’s journey from ballet to filmmaking is as unique as her cinematic style. She maintains her distinctive charm and style through the emotional nuances in her films, not unlike the improvisation of a dancer during a performance. Her three films – Chanthaly(2012), Dearest Sister(2016), and The Long Walk(2019) – all feature ghosts.

Her position as a diasporic filmmaker allows her to bridge Laotian cultural narratives with broader speculative fiction genres. This approach is particularly notable because it’s a relatively new genre in Laotian cinema, which she uses to explore complex themes of spirituality, gender, and cultural identity. Through her films, Do examines the intersections of tradition, contemporary life, and the future in Laos, creating narratives that resonate both locally and globally. This is especially evident in “The Long Walk,” which has become an inspiring work both nationally and internationally.

“The Long Walk” tells the story of an old man living in a future remote Laotian village who discovers he can traverse time, aided by the ghost of a woman he encountered half a century earlier. The film brings us back to a pivotal moment in the protagonist’s life: when he was a boy, he stumbled upon a fatally injured woman in the bush with an overturned motorcycle. He stayed with her until she took her last breath, then befriended her ghost. This encounter marks the beginning of a lifelong attachment, leading the old man to begin his quest to travel through time, attempting to alter the past and make the present better.

However, as the film unfolds, it becomes clear that the protagonist is not merely a well-intentioned figure. He is a serial killer, engaging in acts of mercy killing suffering women without their consent. His actions are not just about misguided compassion but are deeply rooted in toxic masculinity. The film critiques male savior complexes, showing how these can lead to further harm rather than genuine help. He believes he is helping those in need, forcefully imposing his twisted sense of compassion on others. His actions reveal a deep-seated violence inherited from his father—a loser who acted irresponsibly and failed to provide a stable and nurturing environment for his family. The protagonist’s actions are also driven by a desire to change the events leading to his mother’s death.

The protagonist’s delusion is further highlighted by his practice of collecting the finger bones of those he has killed, which reflects his severe attachment issues. This act echoes the story of Aṅgulimāla, a figure from Buddhist scripture who collected his victims’ fingers to prove his prowess. Aṅgulimāla was eventually redeemed by the Dharma of Buddha, becoming an Arahant and transcending Saṃsāra. This is a significant event in Buddhist history, often seen as a symbol of the Buddha’s compassion and the possibility of transformation. However, unlike Aṅgulimāla, the protagonist in The Long Walk remains trapped in his mirage, convinced that he is leading his victims’ spirits to true peace. His graveyard garden, filled with spirit houses and the remains of those he has “liberated,” becomes a macabre reflection of his misbelief that he is a Messiah, not unlike a twisted version of the Western concept of utopia.

The presence of the ghostly figure in the film underscores the spiritual beliefs that have long existed in the Lower Mekong Basin—a region that includes Laos, Cambodia, Myanmar, Vietnam, and Thailand. This area is a significant part of the Indosphere, a cultural and religious territory deeply influenced by Indian civilization. However, it’s important to note that the Lower Mekong Basin’s religious and cultural practices are not just a product of Indian influence but also a result of a complex history of local development, trade, and exchange with other cultures, including China, other parts of Southeast Asia, and Europe. Here, cultural practices represent a unique blend of Indigenous beliefs, such as the worship of spirits, ancestors, and Theravada Buddhism, which were introduced through trade and interaction with India, later influenced by the Khmer Empire, and further developed through connections with Sri Lanka.

Spirit houses, small shrines embodying local animism, exemplify the fusion of indigenous beliefs with Buddhism in the Lower Mekong Basin. These structures, predating Buddhism’s arrival, house and honor local spirits. Rather than replacing animistic practices, Buddhism blended with them, creating a syncretic spirituality. This integration demonstrates how the region’s beliefs adapted to new religious ideas while preserving traditional elements, reflecting the complex cultural tapestry until today.

Karma refers to the law of cause and effect, where one’s actions in this life or previous lives determine the circumstances of future existence. The old man’s journey in The Long Walk is a poignant reflection of this principle. His actions, though seemingly altruistic, are ultimately self-serving; they stem from his inability to let go of his own pain and guilt over his mother’s death when he was young. The metaphorical use of time travel to explore the concept of karma and its consequences is a core tenet of Theravada Buddhism: suffering (dukkha) is an inherent part of life, and trying to manipulate outcomes with bad karma can often lead to more suffering. His desire to change the past is not truly about helping others but about alleviating his own suffering, which only leads to more complications, locking himself in a thousand loops of suffering across countless rebirths, still attached to the pain of his failed family.

By using ghosts as a time machine, Mattie Do’s clever storytelling presents a profound work about accepting reality and the death of loved ones when it comes, while also telling us not to cling to what has already passed.

Mattie Do’s The Long Walk offers a unique cinematic experience deeply rooted in the influence of Indian civilization on Southeast Asia, as reflected through Theravada Buddhism. The film employs supernatural elements not merely for entertainment but to probe profound insights into the human psyche, the innate desire to alter the past, and the repercussions of such attempts. It also delves into family violence, revealing the deep emotional scars it leaves on the protagonist.

The film is a potent reminder that our actions, even when well-intentioned, may often stem more from our ego and personal pain than from a genuine desire to help others. True peace of mind comes from accepting reality and understanding nature, rather than attempting to control what lies beyond our grasp. Yet, despite these lessons, it’s not easy to let go—just last night, I still dreamed of making merit for my mother, even though it’s been ten years since my beloved passed away.

This essay is the first in the “Mek◊ng Sci-Fi” series by Vorakorn “Billy” Ruetaivanichkul. It is published in English (billyvorr.com) and Thai (TheMissionTH.co) and was completed as part of the 2024 ArtsEquator Fellowship. The views expressed are solely those of the author.

Uranus 2324: Sapphism to Girl’s Love—From Ancient Greek Heritage to Lesbian Sci-Fi

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On July 4, 2024, Uranus 2324 (2024), Asia’s first “Girl’s Love” space romance, had its premiere in Bangkok, Thailand. Truth be told, tears have streamed down my cheeks since the first scene. “It’s that good?” You ask. Well, wrong. But listen, I have a good reason.

In my lifetime, I never thought about the possibility of a $2 million Girl’s Love sci-fi film being produced in my homeland. The fact that Thailand’s screen industry allows this fantasy to come true struck me. Considering its capitalistic nature, investors always do everything to eliminate as much risk as possible. In other words, they need to know how the product will sell. This means there is a market for this Girl’s Love space romance film. “In Thailand?” you ask again. Thailand, and beyond. The film was made possible by the global fans of the two lead actresses, #FreenBeck, and, more precisely, their purchasing power.

This sapphic economy presents an alternative model for female empowerment, exemplified by Thailand’s emerging “Girl’s Love” wave. Girl’s Love combines elements of the Japanese “Yuri” manga subculture with K-idol business models, creating a genre featuring all-female protagonists. This trend is gaining popularity in Thailand and beyond, challenging the long-standing dominance of Boy’s Love (BL) content. BL, which originated from Japan’s “Yaoi” manga subculture and Korea’s idol business model, often portrays idealized same-sex male romances that many queer individuals find unrealistic. This is because Yaoi manga was originally created by and for women, offering an escape from patriarchal realities rather than authentic queer representation.

In Thailand, a unique subculture has emerged known as “Y Girl.” The “Y” in this context has a dual meaning. It represents girls who are fans of “Yaoi” and BL content (boy-boy relationships); at the same time, it also stands for “Yuri,” the girl-girl counterpart to BL, reflecting the growing interest in sapphic content. This “Y Girl” phenomenon illustrates the fluid and inclusive nature of fandom in Thailand, where audiences appreciate both male-male and female-female relationship narratives in media. The rise of Girl’s Love content alongside the established BL genre demonstrates a diversification of storytelling and representation in Thai popular culture, catering to a wide range of preferences and identities.

As of July 2024, both artists command impressive social media influence, each boasting over 4 million Instagram followers. Their fanbase, while primarily Thai, extends across Asia and into the West, with significant followings in the Philippines, Vietnam, Singapore, China, Japan, South Korea, and the US. Building on this success, #FreenBecky embarked on a series of fan meetings across Asia, with US events planned. Their on-screen chemistry has earned them several domestic entertainment awards, including accolades from the Nine Entertain Awards and KAZZ Awards 2023-2024. Their rising profile led to invitations to the 2024 Cannes Film Festival and Saudi Arabia’s Red Sea International Film Festival’s “Women in Cinema” event. Their Cannes debut proved remarkably lucrative: according to Lefty.io and Vogue Business, Rebecca generated $4.7 million in earned media value (EMV) for Balenciaga (75% of the brand’s total EMV) and Chopard, while Freen produced $4.7 million for Ferragamo, Chopard, and Burburry combined. This growing fame has paved the way for more ambitious projects, such as their starring roles in “Uranus 2324.”

“Uranus 2324” is a collaborative project between Thai companies VelCurve Studio, GM Generates, and C EYE (Public Company). It’s one of four films awarded a 2024 government grant to support the Thai Soft Power Policy. Directed by Thanadol Nualsuth and written by Thitipong Chaisati and Nut Nualpang, with Keetawat Chinnakote as executive producer, the film narrates the multiverse love tragedy of “Lin” and “Kath” as they overcome various challenges to reunite across different realms—on the ground, underwater, in space, and in parallel universes.

As a fellow filmmaker, I want to congratulate the team for realizing this ambitious project. It’s surely not easy to get done. Kudos to the filmmakers, actors, crews, including Spaceth.co (the space production advisor), studios, and investors for making it through. You’re advancing the history of the Thai film industry to another level. Tears streamed down my cheeks at the opening, which showed promising quality production and delivery I never expected to see in a Thai queer film. I admire this film for contributing to the representation of Thai women and allowing young Thai girls to extend their horizons and imagination. One day, they might become astrophysicists, astronauts, or freedivers! This image will surely inspire the next generation of young girls who have a chance to watch it.

As it markets itself as a romance, I didn’t expect the film to be complicated or philosophical. The story is an inter-spacetime struggle to be with your soulmate. The first half is fine. Freen and Becky have great chemistry, which explains their rapid rise to success. As someone who has never watched their show before, I enjoyed seeing them together and genuinely wish more cinematic projects came their way in the future.

However, as the narrative progresses from the middle toward the end, the film ambitiously explores complex themes but struggles to deliver them succinctly. A solar storm burst muddles the parallel universes, with spacetimes intertwining; the past, present, and future seem to happen all at once, and their struggle to be together intensifies to a supernatural level. This setting is supposed to provoke our thoughts on philosophical questions about soulmates and life. But the film seems to get lost in the universe and never comes back. The parallel stories lack integration to create a sublime climax. The backbone of the narrative—genuine emotion—sadly isn’t evoked.

Despite its potential to leverage Freen Beck’s global fanbase and the growing interest in queer narratives, the film doesn’t reach beyond surface-level appeal. The excessive cuddling scenes without meaning diluted the narrative. This magic fails to spellbind non-fans.

Let’s talk about patriotism. With a healthy dose, I believe it is good. We are living in a globalized world, continuously interacting, cooperating, and doing commerce (oftentimes conflicting) with each other. It’s smart to know what capital we have and how to present it to the international community.

This film, with partial support from Thailand’s Ministry of Culture, features Thailand (or, to be specific, a Thai enterprise) as a strategic partner with NASA in the Lunar Gateway mission; it supplies space-grade food for space missions. Great. Unfortunately, the execution resulted in what feels more like a product showroom for the Thai nation and the Thai enterprise.

The cohesive narrative should be valued as the top priority. As this project is meant to be watched on the big screen, brands should understand that over-featuring products can be counterproductive and affect brand reputation negatively. The cinematic experience is different from watching on smaller screens, and subtlety in product placement often creates a better psychological effect.

Please don’t get me wrong. I am not writing this to attack anyone. I understand that these capitalistic fulfillments—seeking funding and sponsorship—are fundamental for project finance. However, if disproportionate, it dilutes the narrative and steals the magic the cinema should possess.

Patriotism oozes throughout the storyline, from the future to the past, which features a speculative situation where the Axis won World War II. When the protagonists, who are “Free Thai Movement” members (sided with the Allies), face challenges as they overhear their fellow citizens’ doubts about the future of Thailand (freshly renamed from Siam) as the Japanese were overpowering the country, one of the protagonists bursts out, “Regardless of spacetime, Thailand has never been colonized!” “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!” I internally screamed, not knowing how to properly react. I think the line is fine, but the execution is so blunt. Thoughts bubble up as I think of Thailand’s perspective within the framework of post-colonialism and its pride in the title of being “a country that was never colonized.” Anyway, I continued with the film through the end and witnessed it struggle through the messy last act before it finally landed.

Overall, I am impressed by the way the filmmakers try to weave these narratives together. The “2324” in the title “Uranus 2324” actually refers to the Buddhist calendar year when Uranus was classified as a planet (1781). The fact that Thailand is the only country using the Buddhist Era as an official calendar makes me realize that we are 543 years apart. In this film, Uranus serves as an analogy for the protagonists’ star-crossed romance. Uranus is significant because it is billions of miles away from Earth. It represents a fantasy, something unattainable, an object of desire. If we are Earth, each of us has our very own Uranus. It is the destination the film urges us to strive for, no matter how impossible it seems. I think this concept resonates with the story. However, I believe more cinematic devices should be employed in execution to give flesh and blood to the narrative.

Despite its challenges, Uranus 2324 has achieved a significant milestone by securing distribution rights in 27 countries across various regions. This international reach demonstrates the growing global interest in queer narratives and Thai content. As the film enters a month of domestic screening, it has grossed $241K against its $2M budget. While these initial figures may seem modest, the true test lies in its international performance. I sincerely hope this film succeeds, not just for its own sake, but because it represents a crucial step forward. The realization of a queer sci-fi film at this scale is a landmark event, and its success could pave the way for more diverse and ambitious projects in the future. Let’s wait and see if Uranus 2324 can captivate audiences worldwide and prove that there’s a viable market for the next project.

#FreenBecky fans, ultimately, what the investors care about is your purchasing power. So, I’m urging you to demand more. The ambition for this high-concept sci-fi is there, but the execution is not. Don’t just settle for projects that feature your idols as product ambassadors. Instead, demand films that could see #FreenBecky walking the red carpet at the Cannes Film Festival—not just as celebrities but as actresses of films in competition. You have the power to shape the future of Sapphic cinema and push it to new heights of artistic achievement.

“Who runs the world?”“Girls!”And the power is in your hands.

This essay is the first in the “Mek◊ng Sci-Fi” series by Vorakorn “Billy” Ruetaivanichkul. It is published in English (billyvorr.com) and Thai (TheMissionTH.co) and was completed as part of the 2024 ArtsEquator Fellowship. The views expressed are solely those of the author.

Manifesto: The Dawn of Mek◊ng Sci-fi

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I am billyv◊rr, an emerging author spearheading a new movement: Mek◊ng Sci-fi.

My journey into the realm of speculative fiction is deeply rooted in my international filmmaking experience. Storytelling serves as my platform to explore alternative realities through ‘what if’ scenarios, challenging us to imagine alternate pasts, presents, and futures. It’s a reflection of where we stand today.

Speculative thinking, a cornerstone of science fiction and alternate history novels, acts as a catalyst for envisioning and working towards alternative futures. It’s a tool of liberation—freeing us from the shackles of fatalism or necessity—and empowering us to shape our own destinies.

My queer identity infuses a unique perspective into my narratives. I am committed to creating speculative narratives that spotlight Southeast Asian stories, beginning with tales from Bangkok, Thailand, on the global stage.

I invite you to join me on this journey into the world of Mek◊ng Sci-fi. Together, we will explore the uncharted territories of the imagination. We stand at the precipice of a new era, where we might just shape the future of global speculative fiction.

The future is not a distant horizon—it is here, pulsating with promise and potential, more than we could have ever imagined.