The sky is very wide, the way is very long

CITIZEN DOG (2004)
 

Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s whimsical Amélie has become an influential template amongst new-wave directors like Wisit Sasanatieng. The comparisons are unavoidable, but Sasanatieng’s Citizen Dog is successful in its own right by establishing itself within a separate, distinctive playing field. Unlike Jeunet’s French comedy, Citizen Dog was originally a novel written by Sasanatieng’s wife Koynuch. However, akin to Amélie, Sasanatieng’s contemporary take is pure eye candy – introducing us to a lovesick good Samaritan proportional to Amélie herself – and while the film’s inconsistent magic doesn’t quite exceed Amélie’s incessant novelties, the overall product provides for a remarkable concept.

I’m completely unfamiliar with Thai culture, so I can only assume that Dog is filled with explicit nods to the country’s myths and theologies that completely went over my head. From the outset, we’re able to distinguish Thai culture as one of the film's centerpieces. In the opening, Pod’s (Mahasamut Boonyaruk) grandmother (Raenkum Saninn) advises that he adhere to said culture’s doctrines upon his transition to Bangkok, where he wishes to make a living. Ignoring his grandmother’s warning – that he’ll grow a tail if he moves to the city – Pod settles down in Bangkok with a modest abode and factory job at a local sardine cannery.

Pod eventually meets and becomes infatuated with Jin (Saengthong Gate-Uthong), a peculiar young maid who’s perpetually engrossed in a foreign white book that fell from the sky during her youth. Pod swaps up vocations several times – security guard, cab driver, etc. – in order to better acquaint himself with Jin; who’s seemingly oblivious to the country boy’s advances. The story essentially intermixes Pod’s intense longing for Jin and his goodwill toward strangers in disordered, but comical fashion.

The significance of having a “tail” is touched on later in the film as a metaphor for success, and when Jin realizes that Pod lacks a “tail” of his own, their chances of marriage or even sustaining a relationship become slim. The irony lies in the idea that success is arbitrary – illustrated however we choose to define it – suggesting that personal ambitions are easily achieved based on one’s outlook. But Pod’s shortcomings are the least of Jin’s worries; her obsession with the little white book culminates into a myriad of misconceptions and stray paths that prevent her from seeing the answers laid out before her and nearly jeopardizes her potential love life.

Thoroughly enjoyable, Citizen Dog is a vibrant parable. Sure, as I mentioned before, Dog’s magic is erratic – some areas felt uninspired – whereas Amélie’s is seamless, but Sasanatieng’s fairytale prevails as a feast for the eyes. The arrangement of visual coups is satisfying in itself, but the story packs a fair wallop of its own that symbolizes the extraneous measures we take to seek fulfillment in life.

8/10