A fair share of trouble in paradise in 'The Beach'

A fair share of trouble in paradise in 'The Beach'

By Oren Murphy

JAKARTA (JP): For anyone who has spent more than a couple of
nights in ratty boardinghouses somewhere in Asia, Danny Boyle's
(Trainspotting) latest film, The Beach, will bring back memories,
fond or otherwise.

The film comments on many of the ironies inherent in
backpacker culture in Southeast Asia, as tourists search for the
new and exotic only to create the familiar and comfortable. We
see what lengths people go to escape themselves, and their
willful denial of reality in exchange for their prescripted ideas
of what they should find in paradise.

The Beach is not a bad film as far as films go. The script has
some great moments and the gorgeous cinematography, including
slow pans of the stunning beach in question, consistently enhance
the film's progress. So why does the film fade from mind faster
than the audience leaving the theater?

The film, based on the popular novel of the same title by Alex
Garland, tells the story of a backpacker, Richard (Leonardo
DiCaprio), in Thailand, who, like every other backpacker, dreams
of finding something exotic and untainted.

Staying in a backpackers' guesthouse in Bangkok he meets
Daffy, a slightly crazy Scot who tells him of a mysterious beach
on a deserted island, untouched by the hordes of parasitic
tourists that swarm over the rest of Thailand. This perfect beach
sounds like an urban myth, and the mystery shrouding it is
further enhanced when Daffy leaves Richard a map to the beach and
then slits his wrists.

Richard decides to set out in pursuit of the island with a
French couple, Etienne (Guillaume Canet) and Francoise (Virginie
Ledoyen), as traveling companions. Richard has a burning crush on
Francoise and we are given clues as subtle as anvils that Richard
is going to get his woman in the end.

They make it to the island and find the perfect beach as well
as a secret backpacker commune; "a beach resort for people who
don't like beach resorts." Things are great for a while: Richard
gets his gal, their outdoor recreation calendar is packed and the
water is blue.

But paradise being paradise, trouble is not far around the
corner. There are intruders in paradise, skeletons in the closet
and people die.

The film explores human nature and human interaction in the
commune in much the same way as the classic book Lord of the
Flies. The backpackers develop their own laws and rules to fit
the needs of their hedonistic society. However, the stresses put
on the society through shark attacks and protecting their secrecy
from unwanted guests create fissures which later develop into
full-blown conflicts.

The film has a moralizing streak in it, although its insights
seem somewhat shallow. We are solemnly informed by DiCaprio that
the unadulterated pursuit of pleasure has its costs. Herein lies
one of the film's first stumbling blocks: Leonardo DiCaprio as
moral guide requires a strenuous suspension of disbelief for
anyone over the age of 13.

The gravity of the lessons learned by Richard is undermined by
the appearance that they have come to him at little cost. He
ruined what appeared to be a happy relationship between Francoise
and Etienne, and then ruined his own relationship with Francoise.
This does not seem to particularly bother him, nor does abetting
a murder later on. In the end, he still escapes from the island,
receives cheery e-mails from Francoise at Internet cafes and
waxes philosophical on all the deep lessons he has learned during
his really cool trip to Thailand. His is a philosophy best
pondered stoned.

The flimsiness of the film's moral motor is attributable to
both the erratic adaptation of the novel into a movie and
DiCaprio's lackluster performance. The appropriateness of the
casting choice is questionable, particularly given that Richard,
in the novel, is British.

A Ewan McGregor-type would have been perfect for the part.
DiCaprio brings little to the role other than a name larger than
the acting abilities attached to it, and a self-satisfaction that
does not seem fitting for the introspective and insightful
narrator he is supposed to play.

Losing empathy for the narrator sounds a death knell for the
film's overall capacity to impress itself on the audience. At the
end of the day, we care very little for what happens to any of
the characters, dead or alive.

The happy exceptions to this are the Thai marijuana farmers
living on the island who, even after they kill four tourists,
appear to be the most reasonable people there. The lead farmer
presents a compelling portrait of a man fed up with dealing with
stupid tourists living out their exotic fantasies. He gives a
short speech to the backpackers on how more tourists means
trouble for him.

Trouble for him means he cannot feed his family, so the
tourists must leave. Well spoken and exhaustively argued! It is
indicative of something (I do not know what) that the clear logic
of his diatribe in broken English leaves Richard's deep thoughts
looking vapid.

The film hits its best notes when it skips didacticism and
sticks to the novel's small insights into backpacker culture and
human nature. One such insight emerges during the initial build
up of sexual tension between Richard and Francoise, when Richard
gives a humorous commentary on the fallibility of infatuation.

These unassuming moments, which permeate the book, ring true
and give an affability to the story's protagonist. Unfortunately
for the film, they get lost in the shuffle of high drama, sexual
intrigue and a lot of white sand.