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Interview with Taiki Sakpisit: Light and shadows as living entities

An interview with Taiki Sapkisit, the director of "The Edge of Daybreak", in which we tackle his inspirations for the film, visual language and Thai history.

In his debut feature, “The Edge of DaybreakTaiki Sakpisit, Thai independent filmmaker and visual artist, confronts two layers of Thai trauma. He unfolds the story of student massacre in 1976 and clashes it with modern context of coup d'etat in in 2006. With a very precise visual representation, black&white aesthetics and animistic symbolism, Taiki confronts the past with here-and-now, a reality stacked in emotional paralysis, facing the constant unknown. Much like today's Thailand.

His film premiered in IFFR's Tiger Competition. On this occasion we had a conversation on his perception of film (in the times of COVID), Thai history and arthouse cinema, as well as personal stories behind the creating of “The Edge of Daybreak”.

I was wondering, although it might be a bit blunt question, how do you feel that most of the people have probably watched your film on a small screen, like a laptop?

It is sad, and I guess I can speak on behalf of many filmmakers. But in terms of the film and its quality, we tried our best. I think it doesn't matter for me, how the audience will consume the work, as long as there is an emotional connection. If my film can translate through an emotional impact, then it doesn't really matter. Of course, it's not going to be like a proper cinematic experience, but it might lead to a new practice. Imagine watching it at home, like you did, and then, perhaps, you might find it special, unique. Maybe you'd like to watch it again, give it another try in the cinema (if they are open). Maybe you'll grasp something at home first, and then it will stick with you, so that you will want to watch it again on the big screen. I don't know if the process can translate that much and have any impact on our lives, but it seems kind of new to me.

The second experience is always different.

Indeed. My hope is that there will be a need of second experience.

Let's keep our fingers crossed for that. How did the story start for you?

I've been making experimental films or video installations for the past 10 years or so. At some point, I decided to expand my work and do something else – a narrative. For a long time, I was working mainly on my own, doing everything alone (except for the sound design and music), so I wanted to change that. The whole process started with realizing the concept of the project. I really tried to immerse in particular locations or historical contexts. At first, I think I approached it a bit like a painter or a photographer – focusing mainly on the subject. It was similar to a constant process of talking to oneself. With that approach in mind, I started working on the script.

I wanted to reflect the history of Thailand, particularly on the period of 30 years between the Student Massacre in October 1976 and the coup d'etat in 2006. These two events are pinnacle points in Thai history, still relevant to today's political crisis. I started to think about how I can encapsulate these two traumas. I realized that the closest feeling that would grasp the atrocity would be the feeling of paralysis, both physical and psychological. I wanted to combine that with the unknown forces as well.

While doing research for the film, going through many historical scripts, I also received a note from former Thai prime minister, Pridi Banomyong's daughter. He was a very important figure in Thai politics, who revolutionized Thailand from an absolute monarchy. His daughter gave me the book about their family and there was one episode that really captured my emotional attention.

What was it about?

It was the night that her father got exiled in 1947. It was also the night when the ministry started the coup d'etat. Someone tipped him off, so he had to run away. He jumped into the river and escaped from Thailand. At that time, his daughter was still very young, maybe six years old. The army were shooting the house with machine guns and inside the house there were only women and children. Mothers trying to save their children. It really left a mark on me. I wanted to capture the maternal sacrifice in my story, as well as how the politics broke the family. This kind of story always repeats in Thai history. There were many similar situations like this. Politics breaking a family is a well-known notion in our country and it was a genesis for my story as well.

How did you approach framing these two events, student massacre and later coup d'etat, into your script?

Firstly, I wanted to meditate on time in a way I don't specify each of the time periods. Without being specific about it, I don't tell the audience what period or what generation they are watching now. This is about connecting with the present times, as we are still experiencing the military government and it's been like this for more than 60 years. The idea is to freeze the country. Our government says that they don't want our country to develop, to expand, to evolve. They want to freeze the old values, the tradition. That's why the analogy of time is really crucial to this film. That's why there are different generations. I wanted to capture the time as dissolving and evolving, changing according to the mental states of the characters.

Also, it might be interesting for you, but when I wrote the script I watched many films, but one I had in mind in particular – 's “The Third Part of the Night” (1971). I love Zulawski's work in general, but this one is my favorite.

I love this film, it's very powerful, one of his best. Sadly, the situation in Poland is quite similar to the state of Thailand. Speaking of time, it is also an important notion in your short film, “The Mental Traveller”, in which you meditate on the passing of time in a complete lockdown, in prison. You mentioned that despite the fact that so much time has passed, these two events are still relevant in Thai consciousness. Could you elaborate on that?

I think that comes with the fact that in countries where democracy hasn't developed completely, there are always young people with progressive ideology that contradict the old values. Then the state tries to frame them as rebels, as the opposite of patriots. A good example of how it projects onto contemporary times is the current youth movement in Thailand. The protests have become huge even. The scenario repeats itself, like in 1976. The young students were framed as communists and then they started to disappeared, being cleared from sight by the government. Much of this happens today. Many of the Thai young leaders experience the same. And it will happen over and over again. Like a loop. An airless loop.

Did these events await any representation in Thai cinema?

I think there are some Thai films that aimed for this angle. One of the examples is “” (1974), directed by Chatrichalerm Yukio, a filmmaker with royal descents, whose other films were epic high-budget productions. But earlier in his career, he made this socially-driven depiction of contemporary Thailand. “Hotel Angel” tells a story of a sex worker, a young girl from the north of Thailand, that is sold into sex business by her family. Trapped in Bangkok, she becomes affiliated with the underground crime world. The film is basically about Bangkok's sex industry, but the narrative is intersected with the real footage of student uprising from 1974. It reminds of the techniques of French New Wave, with many of jump-cuts and dialectical montage. I think it was the first mainstream film that featured such cinematic expression. In the end, however, he started to make more propaganda films, I think he is a similar case to Zhang Yimou. At first he was influential for the youth movement, but then he leaned towards the opposite ground.

What about censorship? Have you encountered any troubles in regard to your film?

No, fortunately not, and hopefully not in the future. Fingers crossed. Maybe it's because it's just my personal taste, that I do not want to tackle things in a direct way. I've just told you about the massacre from 1970s, but I knew from the start that I don't want to make my films heavily political. Firstly, because I don't have the talent for that, nor the skill to talk about it in this way. I'm not cut out for that. Secondly, I'm doing what I believe I'm doing best, which is delving into something more abstract, more poetic. That works best for me. I don't want to represent something in a direct way, that wouldn't be me.

The Edge of Daybreak by Taiki Sakpisit @IFFR2021

I have a feeling this is dominating model of narrative in Thai cinema. The national traumas and collective memories are not dealt directly, but through subtle metaphors and symbolism. Do you think there is a reason for that?

Independent Thai filmmakers address our history that way, but there are many mainstream films, such as biopics or historic epics, that do it very directly. Maybe there is something about being personal in one's work. This is my approach. For instance, when you look at the picture of the family in my film – all I wanted to capture is their pain. Pain, when you're separated from the loved ones; pain, when you know, you won't see them again. This was essential for me. It was more important than the chronology, because through that I can relate to my own experiences. The indirect, poetic and symbolic became a springboard that would enable me to express myself through the story. Maybe that's an answer.

What experiences are you relating to in “The Edge of Daybreak”, then?

Let me answer with an anecdote first. When Kubrick used György Ligeti's avant-garde piano piece for “Eyes Wide Shut”(1999), Ligeti cried when he saw that for the first time. You know why? Because he felt that Kubrick knew what was the motivation behind creating this composition. The piano piece was a knife stabbing in Stalin's heart. The thing is that a film can be an appreciation expressed in artistic manner. All of my work is personal stories, an artistic expression of me. Even the mental terror from “The Edge of Daybreak”is one.

I also hesitate whether I always want to tell the audience the personal story behind it, because it affects one's interpretation of the film. There are people from different cultural backgrounds, everybody works with different tools. When the film premieres, people lean on their own interpretation. And that's good. At this point, I don't know if I want to share the personal background. I don't know how much it is necessary. I used to give it away, shared some information. But this is something I'm still processing in my work, I'm still learning and experimenting, how much background I want to share. When I was writing the script, there were lots of things from my life there were included in it, but this time, I will leave some open space.

Let's not reveal everything, then. Let's have some space.

I think it's important to have some mystery, something unknown.

Definitely. Your film also relies heavily on visual expression: black & white aesthetics, lighting, space arrangement. How did you come up with that?

Let me start with a story. The decision to make a film in b&w came at the stage of writing the script. I knew I wanted to capture light and shadows as characters. Light and shadows as living entities. With the ability to talk and breathe. The textures in the film are not just tailored shots or cutaways to another location. They can be objective or subjective points of view, just like normal characters. I wanted to express the sensory perception of people.

The Edge of Daybreak by Taiki Sakpisit @IFFR2021

I had similar approach to the space. I wanted to make a film that I would be inspired by it – by what we achieved with other people involved in it. I actually never made a proper storyboard. At first I wanted to, but I resigned from that idea. It limits your imagination. I leaned on inspiration and visual references. For instance, some of the locations were found based on it. The house, in which the story takes place, reminded me of the photos from the USA in 1920s. There was an unfinished pagoda, which for me, personally, became some sort of magnetic field, a feeling of an eclipse. It fits the film perfectly.

What about animism symbolism?

This also comes from the personal background. There was one experimental project I was involved in, called “Shadow and Act”. It was about nocturnal animals in a zoo. I was interested how the animals can be theatrically displayed. The environment was simulated. The animals are a primal force, they lean on their instincts. This connects with my film, as the animals in it also display the idea of primal force. The dog in “The Edge of Daybreak” knew that the husband was going to come back, before everyone else. The dog could sense the approaching of something before human, thanks to its instincts. And cobra in Thai mythology is believed to be a sacred animal. We also believe that animals can be humans in disguise. Souls that come back to the place they belong. Animals represent the bad omens, the curse. When the sun disappears, there's an emotional eclipse to it, too. The animals become aware of this phenomenon, that it is bad omen, that something bad is going to happen. The idea was to represent human's states of beings, through the senses of animals.

How did you work on your lighting with your cinematographer, Chananun Chotrungroj?

When we talked about the lighting, I never gave her my direct comments aside of one. I wanted to have a lighting as inside of the womb. As the characters were inside a woman's womb. “Give me that lighting”, I said. I didn't really give her any technical explanation.

You mentioned you didn't do any storyboards. But the frames are composed very carefully. How did you approach that?

I didn't do the storyboard indeed, but I worked on visual references, mainly photography and sculpture. I shared them with the production board and it really worked better for me, because when you have the script you need to explain it visually, what you have in mind specifically. So when I had my references, it got them excited. They got to know the visual background of the story. That's how we planned the visuals, basing on references. When we went location scouting, or started blocking and then shooting the film, everybody knew what we had in mind. We already knew the emotional aspect of the visual. I was particularly inspired by a Belgian artist, Berlinde De Bruyckere. We based much of our moodscape on her work.

The storyboard of references for The Edge of Daybreak. Courtesy of Taiki Sakpisit.

One of important aspects of your work is narrating through music. How did you work with your composer, ?

We've been working together for more than 10 years now. We have quite similar tastes in terms of art and music. At first, back then, when we went shooting, I would tell him, how much I love Toru Takemitsu's music, especially his work with Hiroshi Teshighara, “Pittfall” (1962), “Women in the Dunes” (1964) and “The Face of Another” (1966) or Masaki Kobayashi, or scores like the one from “Onibaba” (composed by Hikaru Hayashi). “Onibaba” is actually very important for me. I love scores which use musique concrete, when environmental sounds become music instruments. This affects the psychological states of the characters in film. So our premise of our music was based on this. So I told him that, that we aim for that.

He also suggested working with the Indonesian band Senyawa, especially with Wukir Suryadi, the band's leader. They actually invented their own instrument made from Indonesian bamboo, which they used for the film. They watched the film on the projector, and while watching, they improvised the whole piece. Then, they send the material to Yasuhiro. We also had some musicians from Vietnam, who also helped Yasuhiro with the music. He basically made a collage from three different countries: Indonesia, Vietnam and Japan. Yasuhiro is so good at making music organic. Before we came up with working with Senyawa, we were actually talking about the sound sculpture of the film, the meaning of instruments, like Baschet or Indonesian flute. The latter one is actually used to call the evil spirits and it also is believed to represent male gender. His approach is really unique, you should talk to him. [laughs]

Since you worked on short films before, expanding your work into installations, do you still plan to do that?

Yes, even now I've just finished one installation. It's called “Seeing in the Dark”. It's now showing in the institution in Gwangju, South Korea. I love working on art installations. It's perfect for me. It's about being alone. It might be really spooky at times, because it's like praying, a kind of meditation, in which you have a dialogue with yourself. But with feature film – it's more like a learning experience. There are things, I imagine, I couldn't do on my own, so I need other people around me. And I really enjoy doing that, too. It's also fun to be with people.

About the author

Lukasz Mankowski

Film Critic, Japanese language translator, PhD student based in Warsaw, Poland, festival programmer for Five Flavours (Warsaw, Poland). Author of the Asian Cinema-focused blog, "Kinema Chromatica". Participant of IFFR Young Critics Programme 2021 and Berlinale Talents 2022. Aside from writing for AMP, his works include bylines in: MUBI, Sight & Sound, ALT/KINO, Senses of Cinema, dwutygodnik, EKRANy or Kultura Liberalna.

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