Romanticising the insurgency
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Romanticising the insurgency

This love story set in the Deep South is a heavily sanitised version of the Kingdom's troubled region

ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT
Romanticising the insurgency
A scene from Latitude Tee Hok (Latitude No.6).

Rarely do we see a Thai film set in the Deep South and rarely do we see a film with so many people saying "assalamu alaikum" to each other. So now that we have one in the cinema, it turns out to be such a piece of romantic fluff that it hardly does justice to the complicated reality of the region and its people. What should we expect when Latitude Tee Hok (Latitude No.6) has been financed by the military — the Internal Security Operations Command, to be precise — and produced by UCI Media, an affiliation of a company that sells communication equipment to the army?

Make love, not war, as the hippies said, only this love is also a form of illusion. Latitude No.6 is a shot at soft propaganda, a cunning, sugar-coated happy pill, and probably an effective one at creating the romanticised image of the "beautiful South" that is sometimes disrupted by car bombs, yes, but salvaged by faith, love, and the army. Blurring out the ethnic, historical and political complexities, the film poses as a cross-cultural love story and populates the scenes with an attractive cast that curiously look more Chinese and European than Malay.

Peter Corp Dyrendal, whose smiles fluctuate between charming and daft, plays Ton, an Islamic Bank employee who's transferred to a branch in Pattani, where he instantly falls in love with Muslim girl Fa (short for Fatima, played by 2012 Miss Thailand Prisana Kumpusiri). In another storyline, two teenage Muslim boys compete to win the favour of the same non-Muslim girl as she's about to move to Bangkok. In between, we learn that some of these characters have lost their relatives to violent bombings; this is a shot at political reality, though it's vague, predictable, and feels more like dramatic button-pushing scored to overwrought music than a sincere probe into the woes of southern residents.

None of the lead characters are played by real Muslims; actually, none of the leads look Malay (those who do are the extras, to give "the air" of the place). I don't see this as insulting or contentious — no, I see it as ignorant, for the way Latitude No.6 picks fair-skinned, half-European or half-Chinese actors to portray the predominantly Malay-ethnic region speaks volumes about the visual representation of Thai Muslims on the movie screen: the good-looking southerners still have to look like upper-class Bangkok boys and girls. The sanitised approach deprives the film of human authenticity, and while it shuns one stereotype — the dark, dangerous Deep South as seen on TV news — the film blindingly embraces the other — the bright, beautiful, harmonious, tourist-brochure multicultural society. Both extremes aren't entirely wrong, but they're simplistic. Sometimes, they even verge on being deceitful, a distorted image of the complex joy and trouble experienced by any community, any region, and any country.

To make sure we stop worrying and learn to love the South, the film's idea of "culture" is postcard-ready: a lot of mosques, a lot of traditional likay hulu performances, a lot of pretty, overdressed Muslim ladies (not every day is Eid day!). The most shrewd move, however, is to minimise the presence of the soldiers (aka, the financiers), and when they do appear, they're the force of humour and benevolence, at times accompanied by a dramatic soundtrack that is way too loud. One has no choice but to feel thankful.

As a commercial product, the 130-minute Latitude No.6 proudly exhibits its superficial charm and the belief that every conflict can be resolved and every loss can be fulfilled by the rhetoric of love and reconciliation. But, as a portrait of a place, as an expression of social relevance and immediacy, it is a sham. To understand that the tragedy of being human is more heartbreaking than the tragedy of being southern Muslims, let's go back to watch the 1985 Pee Sua Lae Dokmai (Butterflies And Flowers), in which nothing is glazed over and love feels more urgent — and real.

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