On revisiting the film, having had many discussions with
friends, I was much more aware of Bangkok’s
flaws, which, I have to admit, are many. The dialogue is frequently silly to
the point of hilarity, with lines like “Somehow when I looked into his eyes, I
saw myself. So I became his teacher” and “The face has a million ways of
tricking you, but the eyes never lie” peppered throughout the screenplay. Nicolas Cage looks awful, with weird stringy hair and a
consistently morose expression (except when with his beloved deaf and dumb
pharmacist). The combination of his demeanour, appearance and gravely, bored
voice is very, very funny, particularly when saying things such as “uh, banker,
yes” while sitting awkwardly in his love interest’s house. When he smiles at
her mother, his face seems like it might crack with effort. Overwrought,
ridiculous, sentimental – all appropriate adjectives when discussing the film’s
scenes which deal with Joe and Fon’s relationship. A pounding, serious
soundtrack adds to the unintentional humour.
So far, then, my pleasure in watching Bangkok has been derived from the films’ artistic failures.
But so what? I maintain that this isn’t a “so-good-it’s-bad” film in the mould
of Plan 9 from Outer
Space (though I could happily write an article in the defence of
that and Ed Wood’s other misunderstood work). This is something a particular
friend of mine has a problem with when we discuss it. I genuinely like the way
the film is shot, the atmosphere created, the action, the mise en scène. My unnamed friend cannot
accept my stance – that a film such as Bangkok is capable of having both
elements of unintentional humour created by poor creative choice or misguided
filmmaking sensibilities and other
aspects that work in the conventional sense.
I will admit to having an intense love of cheap genre
cinema. I maintain that many of these "trashy" films have an independent spirit and charm never found in more mainstream
cinema, and that their flaws often shift into beautiful idiosyncrasies to be
cherished and admired. I can’t categorize Bangkok in this way (the film cost $40m to make), I’m merely
using my admiration for “cult” cinema as one possible explanation for my
enjoyment of the film – I saw it as true exploitation, not the preening,
self-aware graininess of the recent Grindhouse but an example of genuine, naïve genre cinema in the noughties. I found an honesty in Bangkok that attracts me to some of the cheapo films I like so much. There is little or no use of CGI, the film is self-contained, there are
few characters, some inexplicabilities which I can engage with and enjoy.
Perhaps this is a perverse kind of cinephilia, but I’m always filled with joy when I
see bargain-basement bins, brimming with untapped craziness.
My admiration for Bangkok seems, therefore, to come from a combination of the
two sets of reasoning I mentioned in my opening paragraph – firstly my fascination
in flawed cinema, my admiration for enthusiastic and well-intentioned cinema,
and also my enjoyment of the film as a whole, both in its humour derived in
numerous flaws and its simmering, grim, atmosphere. Monte Hellman once said
that when he sees a movie he comes out having had an experience unique to him –
if someone asks him what the film was about, he may not be able to tell them,
but he had a hell of a time watching it. Perhaps I went somewhere my friends
didn’t while watching Bangkok.
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