The Tesseract by Oxide Pang (Review)

One instance where an abundance of style actually hinders the film more than helps it.
The Tesseract - The Pang Brothers

If there’s one thing that anyone who’s seen a film by Oxide and/or Danny Pang can attest to, it’s that they’re masters of style. They use every trick of the trade — editing, cinematography, filming techniques, clever special effects, CGI — to give their films a very edgy and stylish feel that’s unique in Asian cinema. And The Tesseract (which was done by Oxide alone) is probably the most stylish of all of their films, which is quite something since their filmography already includes titles like Bangkok Dangerous, The Eye, and Infernal Affairs. But while the Pangs’ style was often the saving grace of their movies, The Tesseract might be one instance where an abundance of style actually hinders the film more than helps it.

Set in the seamy, sweaty Thailand underworld, The Tesseract (based on an Alex Garland novel) sets up 4 characters and reveals what happens when their lives are drawn together and collide in the most tragic and violent of ways. There’s Sean (Jonathan Rhys-Meyers), an aimless drifter who has somehow become involved with a gang and their drug heist. There’s the nameless assassin who works for an opposing gang, and who was badly wounded in her last attempt to reclaim the goods. There’s a British psychologist (Saskia Reeves) who is interviewing local children about their dreams while coming to terms with the death of her young son. And finally, there’s Wit (Alexander Rendel), a young urchin with a penchant for breaking into hotel rooms and stealing any valuables he finds. One way or another, all of these characters have ended up at the Heaven Hotel, a dilapidated old building where guests just sit and simmer in their rooms, trying to stay cool in the oppressive Bangkok heat.

Those who thought Memento was a real mindbender will be in for a treat with The Tesseract, which becomes so non-linear that I found myself wishing flowcharts had been provided upon entering the theatre. Scenes play out, only to reverse themselves and play again (and again and again) from different angles and perspectives, each time revealing some new hint about the characters and the paths that brought them to where they are now. The film unfolds forwards, backwards, sideways, and every angle in-between, until the viewer gets lost within a maze of flashbacks, dizzying camerawork (the film’s one love scene becomes almost comical as it plays out from every angle imaginable, even upside down), and bullet time.

For example, Sean and Wit bump into each other on the hotel stairs as Sean is heading down to the lobby, where he passes by the psychologist. Perhaps 20 – 30 minutes later, the film snaps back to that chance meeting, revealing the events that led up to Sean and Wit’s encounter (which tell us a bit about them). It then snaps back again, setting up the psychologist’s introduction. It then snaps back even further, introducing the assassin and her role in things, as well as just how the drug deal went awry. And finally, after giving you a pseudo-God’s eye view of the event, it posits you back where you started as if nothing has happened. And it goes on little trips like this at several times, jumping from point A to point B by way of points D, K, Q, and V until you’re almost mad from trying to connect the dots.

Admittedly, it’s pretty cool at first. Pang throws in a lot of visual flair, with enough rapid, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cuts and jumps to unnerve even Darren Aronofsky. And at times, he does a good job of showing how something as seemingly minuscule as stealing a camera can lead to a whole world of hurt. But by the time the film nears its inevitable conclusion, it’s become much less compelling. I soon found myself wishing for a space, even just 30 seconds, that didn’t involve some neat post-Matrix or post-Memento trick. I found myself suspecting that Pang was juicing things up merely to hide the fact that The Tesseract isn’t as deep and thought provoking as it claims to be.

The Tesseract tries to be a meditation on fate and destiny. Seen from that angle, I can understand some of Pang’s reasoning for the film’s excessive style — for example, all of those flashbacks within flashbacks try to show how all of the characters’ fates are inextricably linked, regardless of their intentions and desires — but the film’s philosophizing gets buried beneath its visual clutter. (For example, I don’t think fate unfolds in slow-motion that much.) When the film does take a breather and try to wax philosophical, such as a conversation that occurs late in the film between Wit and female psychologist, it feels rather blatant and awkward, and even laughable.

There is one moment in the film where The Tesseract implies that some other force is working behind the scenes. In the film’s opening sequence, Sean is lying in his room when men in sunglasses and trenchcoats suddenly materialize within the walls (anyone who has seen The Eye will recognize a similar effect taking place during Mun’s visions) and start shooting at him. Terrified, Sean tries to dodge the bullets as they streak past and slam into the wall behind. A moment later, the men vanish and there’s no sign of any gunplay.

You’re left wondering what happened, if a supernatural agency, some space-time anomaly, or even just plain old madness is at work in the building. I have to admit, that scene totally had me hooked. But as the film continues, it seems obvious it was just another excuse to borrow an effect from The Matrix, and nothing more. Which is a real shame because that’s the one scene where Pang’s visuals truly enhance the film’s mood.

There’s no doubt that the Pangs are technically gifted filmmakers, perhaps some of the most technically gifted filmmakers in all of Asia. However, after seeing The Tesseract, I’m wondering if their skill isn’t becoming a crutch for them. I’d love to see one (or both) of them do a film that stripped away the some of the pizzazz, or just found a better way of integrating it, that used their distinctive style to enhance the film rather than show off their skills in the editing room. Perhaps something in the vein of Donnie Darko, a film that teemed with distinctive visuals but which used them to enhance and support the film’s ideas, often in very subtle ways. If anyone could pull off such a movie, I’m certain the Pangs, with their abundance of talent, could.

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