The Khmer Rouge "Annihilation" Machine

It would be a mistake to go into S21: The Khmer Rouge Killing Machine looking for a history of Cambodia, the Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot, or even Tuol Sleng prison (security prison S21) itself. Rithy Panh’s documentary only deals with these things to the minimal extent that it has to, i.e., he only makes relatively brief mention of Cambodia’s historical situation in the 1970s to place us. It’s up to the audience to do the legwork involved with formulating theories as to why the Khmer Rouge was able to come to power, why Cambodia was in the state that it was, and most importantly here, how such atrocities as those described in the picture’s 100 minutes have taken and continue to take place. Indeed, while I do not think that Cambodia is unimportant here, S21 is mainly about the facticity of institutionalized killing on a grand scale. That is its focus and perhaps the reason the film takes such a meandering and seemingly haphazard course. It is a piece that is exploratory in nature, as opposed to authoritative and expository.

S21 forces questions common to Eichmann in Jerusalem, Ordinary Men, Obedience to Authority, and other germane works to the surface. But for those who may respect the value of these inquiries all the while internally groaning over their perplexity, it should be noted that S21 has something incredibly powerful up its sleeve that is nothing short of a marvel of human experience: it allows a former inmate of prison S21 to confront and engage former prison guards. In whole, S21 actually features two survivors of the death house, Chum Mey and painter Vann Nath (supposedly two of the only 7 survivors, out a total 14,000+ prisoners/victims). However, we never see Chum Mey in the same shot as one of the former prison workers. Considering his rapture while standing on the grounds of the prison, it would be no surprise if facing those unfathomably cruel devils from his past were simply impossible.

On the other hand, Vann Nath is possessed of a composure that stupefies. He is the piece’s protagonist of sorts. I would call him our guide, but that would be inaccurate and would obscure what are some of S21’s most truly disturbing scenes. Through some means, Rithy Panh manages to get his former prison guards to elaborately re-enact their former routines. (Though perhaps it took no coaxing at all, thus revealing yet another possible avenue for psycho-social speculation, theorizing, and inquiry.) Aging Khmer Rouge shout verbal abuses at imaginary prisoners, threatening them with physical beatings should they fuss to much, not be quiet, and go to sleep; they check imaginary locks; and peer into empty cells. During these scenes, it is hard to penetrate the psychological interiors of the men. On some level are they taking a stroll down memory lane? In circumstances as extreme as these, it is troubling to watch these old routines repeated in such cold and icy fashion.

Perhaps a clue is given to why this is so in a late exchange between Nath and three of the former S21 keepers. Nath argues that the Khmer Rouge’s stated practice of annihilation goes beyond that of killing in that annihilation leaves nothing of the victim but dust. One can extrapolate that it is a complete eradication of his past and traces; it leaves not even a memory of an individual’s time on earth. This is obviously more than a rhetorical embellishment given that the Khmer Rouge as discussed in the film would kill women and children, leaving no legacy or relations of supposed traitors, informants, or “enemies.” But can one not come away from this scene in particular without noting the utter vacuous looks of the former guards in contrast to Nath? The annihilating sword is revealed to be double-edged; in the case of the former stewards of S21, it is their humanity which has been completely stripped away and exterminated.

Movie Poster Mayhem

Is this an homage? Or is this the same guy recycling an idea?

A Woman in Trouble, but Who is She?

It is roughly a month to the day since I saw David Lynch’s latest, Inland Empire. I anticipated it a great deal: 2006 I found to be a dismal year for art cinema (despite Three Times and The Death of Mr. Lazarescu). So the year-end buzz circulating around both Lynch’s new project (and Children of Men) had me optimistic towards the possibility of a formidable year-end push in 2006’s waning moments. Technically, a last ditch effort before rolling out Dick Clark one more time, if you will. To boot, the showing I had tickets for at the AFI Silver was to be graced by Mr. Lynch himself. Indeed I was poised: though 2006 had technically already passed, its filmic redemption stood before me, flanked by our very potential benefactor, Mr. Lynch…

Any casual fan of The Simpsons will recall the scene of Homer watching Twin Peaks (for you serious fans, that would be episode 3G02 from season 9, entitled Lisa’s Sax). To the image of a man dancing with a horse, Homer exclaims: “Brilliant! I have no idea what is going on.” A similarly casual fan may also recall (from BABF22, season 12’s HOMR) Homer being escorted out of a movie theatre for not laughing at a punch line incorporating Regis Philbin’s would-be meme: “Is that your final answer?” Though an admittedly flippant means towards elucidating my impressions of Inland Empire, these two scenes are freakishly apropos. Bewilderment and an acute alienation stemming from not “getting it” best encapsulate those three hours. With every chuckle of the sold-out crowd at another quirky line or character, I sank deeper into my chair and grew more anxious and desperate for the movie-cum-torture device to be over.

Naturally, Lynch is worthy of being taken seriously, and it would be cheap to simply throw up hands and say, “I just don’t know what he’s on about!” In fact and to the contrary, I do feel a dull desire to see Inland Empire again. Astute reviews from the likes of the NYT’s Manohla Dargis reinforce these feelings. But what is not so dull is my profound consternation over what Inland Empire lacks. And most importantly, I don’t think any number of viewings will yield it. While critics rave about Laura Dern’s performance, I cannot get over the simple fact that this piece lacks characters of any depth or situations that resonate in the key of the human world.

I think Lynch knows this; I believe it is part of his overall plan. Somewhere around the midpoint (though it’s certainly hard to specify a midpoint when time is seemingly standing still), one of the whores (or actresses, or friends, or hangers-on, or…damn it, I’m not sure) asks directly into the camera, “Who is she?” This is, indeed, the film’s guiding question. But I’m afraid it’s impossible to want to engage in solving the riddle when the viewer isn’t provided enough context to remotely care. Lynch’s very own sense of mystery leaves so much in the shadows that it is impossible to latch onto anything or establish a connection. Who is she? Why should I care? I don’t even recognize this as having anything to do about life.

Ultimately, I cannot help but be reminded of Ingmar Bergman’s Persona. Granted that in it, we begin with two distinct people as opposed to an actresses’ on and off camera life. But no matter, both films attempt to render the dissolution of the self into another and the struggle to discover and posit one’s own “I” and identity. And Persona is certainly just as self-aware and deconstructionist as Inland Empire. The difference is that the former is able to root its themes in a simple, coherent narrative and provide characters cut out just enough to provide a foundation. Thus, its force. And conversely, these missing aspects from Lynch’s latest and highly-autonomous project belie its effectiveness, leaving it only able to imbue anxiety and frustration.