The Ferrari boys have made our blood boil. Cruising Bangkok’s streets in their super-steeds, the two kids with rich dads, speaking in faux English accents, expound their beliefs on how the country is being ruined and how it should be run, how immoral the Thaksin regime is and how their friendship, forged in battle, is stronger than steel, or something like that. It sounded like they rehearsed the script in front of a mirror for days, for they were so happy to hear the sound of their own voices, to show the world how great it is to be themselves.
In the popular video report by Vice News, a global specialist in rock ‘n’ roll journalism, the two Ferrari-driving young men are called “royalist elite” and “PDRC leaders” and their cocky behaviour and insufferable conceit speak volumes about the cocoon of self-entitlement that some people box themselves in. Their ideas are narrow and self-defeating; they lecture us about the vice of corruption and how Thailand is run by cronyism, then one of them admits on camera that his whole life has been lived through string pulling. “The connections that you’ve been collecting for your whole life are going to be used every day single day of your life.” They speak about their privilege with the indifference that only the privileged can master; their lives are anesthetised by the airless bubble they call life. And then we have this award-winning line: “That’s something I love about you,” says one Ferrari boy to the other, “you have a number of Ferraris but not one in red colour.”
Outrageous, definitely, but not unpredictable. Sure, it’s a rare bonus to witness wealthy anti-government protesters (calling them “PDRC leaders” is a stretch) make a fool of themselves in front of a camera. So we smirk at their smirks, we feel satisfied watching these self-satisfied elite. We dislike them, or what we think is their kind, even more than we originally did. The video, for all its strength as an emotional hot-button, hardly adds anything to our struggle to comprehend the conflict and check the radicalisation of thoughts. We (including myself) like it because it confirms our prejudices instead of challenging them.
Today is World Press Freedom Day, a good day to remind ourselves of the need for a free press, and more importantly on the complex relationships between journalism and all sorts of difficult conflicts around the world. Credibility, exclusivity, popularity, technology — the cocktail of modern journalism driven by principles as well as marketing — is heady and mercurial. The latest Vice News video is an example of how video reporting has evolved, and how technology, attitude and entertainment quality can boost the ratings of small news agencies over the sometimes “boring” mainstream reporters — for better or worse.
The Ferrari gig is part reportage, part documentary, part deadpan satire. What makes it stand out is its use of cinematic devices — that we hardly see in conventional TV reports — from pounding sound effects (when the narrator talks about possible clashes between the red shirts and the PDRC), to multiple-angle views of a scene (when they shot the car speeding down the road at night, giving a Fast and Furious sensation), and the quick, MTV-style editing emphasising emotion rather than story. It tries to give off a fly-on-the-wall spontaneity, but it’s very calculated. Technically, it’s creative, exciting, rock ‘n’ roll, and skewered close to gonzo journalism.
The tricky part is when the video presents the two super-rich lads – the “royalist elite” — as representatives of the protest movement. It’s not wrong, but it’s one-dimensional and reductionistic. A food vendor in my soi is very loyal to Suthep Thaugsuban, and I’m sure she’d find the Ferrari boys as unpleasant as those wearing the other colour shirt do. Simplifying a complicated structure of any conflict makes for a catchy narrative — that’s in the Hollywood playbook — and as much as I enjoy the Ferrari video, Vice News’ gung-ho style (their reporters are in many of the world’s hot spots, from Cairo to the Congo), sometimes risks pushing substance and gravity behind style and attitude. It turns the subjects’ sincerity (stupidity?) against them. That’s smart, but also dubious: the red-shirt firebrand Koh Tee found his life turned upside down after appearing in a Vice video; he was slapped with a lese majeste charge because of what he said on camera, yes, but also because the bravura editing plays a part in incriminating him.
In our difficult times, we certainly need less Ferrari peacocks and more thoughtful reports, analytical articles, provocative interviews and revealing videos. We need journalism to challenge our preconceptions and help us wade through the layers of facts and ideologies. Let’s hope everyone will keep trying.
Kong Rithdee is Deputy Life Editor, Bangkok Post.