Invisible Waves

Invisible Waves will be seen by many people as being 'seriously flawed,' and honestly there isn't much going for it critically. It is, thematically and aesthetically, a retread of Pen-Ek's last work, Last Life in the Universe, with themes like death, solitude, romance, fate and guilt brought onto the canvas by the beautifully-lensed landscapes of Chris Doyle. Yet it seems unnecessarily harsh and anal retentive to criticize a work whose aim is not to push any boundaries or progress any further than what it can be.

The story of Invisible Waves is threadbare, and to provide any outline of it is to already spoil the whole movie. Pen-Ek said in many interviews that he is attempting film-noir, and if seen in this way it is undeniably a failure: though its plot is essentially a noir-ish plot, the entire movie is so empty of seediness, shadows, and extreme emotions to recall any of those golden B-movies. It seems to me that Pen-Ek had more of Melville than Huston or Ray on his mind - in particular, Le Samouraï comes to mind when viewing Invisible Waves; two films which negotiate freely between reality and fantasy and, as I see it, are essentially films about dying.


Most of Invisible Waves is set in a creaking and beat cruise ship that is filled with echoes and phantoms rather than holidaying people. Asano traverses the long empty corridors aimlessly, drowning in, as we come to understand, guilt and remorse. Wandering around in a maze set by his boss and his own conscience, he is trapped within unknowingly, and slowly dying every frame of the way, making the film not unlike Jarmusch's Dead Man, but with a more romantic fatalism toward death. The film works in an ominous, almost menacing tone most of the time, though after it is all over, what seemed like suspense earlier unravels and almost seems to become a melancholic cognition of death - which is, uncannily, what life is like, mostly. Yet, what seems so dissonant about this surreal claustrophic nightmare (filmed together with an otherwordly ring) is the way strange occurences and people keep interfering with how the plan should've been carried out - it seems, somehow, like a conspiracy movie with fate subtly tweaking and interfering in events without anyone, least of all the audience, knowing, and only in hindsight do we realize that the feeling that seemed so out of place with the tightly controlled atmosphere of the movie is the factor of uncontrollability that, though little, changes things dramatically. The film appears to be at odds with itself in this way, with the noir-ish elements of the plot often being tugged to the wayside by that elusive, esoteric factor. It is almost as if different people are each creating distinct moods (the screenplay, the cinematography, the brilliant sound design/music, and the direction), not forcing the movie into any one direction but allowing it to sprawl and flow wherever it feels like it should.

However, all this has been and can be said for Last Life in the Universe, which in my opinion evokes this feeling in a stronger and more immediate way. What Invisible Waves lacks of its predecessor, most of all, is the romantic yearning that suffused Pen-Ek's last film. But because of that, it's a much looser film with a more free-form structure, which is probably closer to the maker's intentions. Asano, in a typically colorless performance (it is this colorlessness, often mistaken for versatility, that allows him to fit seamlessly into any role) doesn't have the same chemistry with Gang Hye-Jeong - who seems absolutely bewildered - as he did with Sinitta Boonyasak. There are a few moments of tenderness though, when we actually see Asano, Gang and her baby dancing together; I only wish there were more of these to pull the film substantially enough in that way. But tenderness in this movie comes primarily in the form of Maria Cordero, whose brief moments in the film provide such a sense of warmth and comfort that is almost enough to tilt the entire film in her direction.

I don't know exactly what the repeated symbolism of the calm sea represents, I presume there must be some sort of correlation between the crests and falls of waves and that of the characters - when one character is riding a crest, another must be at a fall. But attributing anything to shots of the sea is pointless, because, as one character in the film points out, the sea is so vast and blanketing that it could represent anything to anyone. For me, the sea is something that's unchanging; an eternal mainstay in humanity that will always affect us, whether directly or indirectly, in our lives. There is one particular scene which I love, and of course spoilers from hereon: Earlier in the film, there is a long take of the sea over which we hear Cordero whispering words of comfort to Asano. Now, Asano is shot repeatedly at a pier in Phuket, and he falls into the sea. We then cut to a long take of the sea that moves ever so slightly with its calm waves, and the next thing we know, Asano is back at his apartment block in Macau, talking to Maria Cordero. It is almost as if Asano fell into the sea and drifted all the way from Phuket back to Macau; as if he'd already died, and, following the gentle current of the sea, is brought back to life so that he can eventually understand the meaning and the inevitability of his own death.