Thinking about the review for this film inspired an interesting, and possibly important, question — what exactly defines erotic? Jan Dara is based on a popular erotic novel, The Story of Jan Dara (Rueang Khong Jan Dara) by Utsana Pleungtham, and yes there’s plenty of tasteful nudity and (possibly not so tasteful) sex in it, but after it was all over, I found myself wondering whether there shouldn’t have been just a little more to it.
What that little more might have been is hard to say. On one hand, Jan Dara is exactly what you might expect — a story of the sexual and emotional maturation of a boy into a man, and a film where production values reflect the popular and semi-acclaimed material it was derived from. Visually this is quite a lovely film with some fine cinematic moments, which I’m sure would have been almost breathtaking on the big screen, and Nonzee Nimibutr’s direction is moody and atmospheric, with the occasional luminescent touch alleviating the overall cloying look to the film.
However, while there was sex aplenty, I’m not entirely sure I felt there was any real passion to it, ergo my need to examine the demonstrable definition of erotic. I realise of course that the definition of erotic is widely subjective, but the art of filmmaking is to reach the audience and this film failed somewhat in that goal. Effortless identification with the main character, and therefore investment in the story, was a little distanced, and achieved only occasionally. For instance, while touching scenes of innocent infatuation during walks home from school with the object of Jan’s teenage desire are set against his growing sexual boldness at home, the potential importance of such a contrast comes across a little weak, again denying the viewers a deeper point of connection with the character.
In fact, Jan Dara is more like Victorian angst than modern erotica, and might have been a truly great film if more emphasis had been focused to this end. Jan’s childhood life is harsh, with some fairly disturbing events relieved only by the compassionate presence of his Aunt Waat (played with sensitivity by Vipavee Charoenpura who is responsible for most of the film’s finer moments), but the way in which his story unfolds into adulthood reads a little like a soap opera, ultimately detracting from the power of what might have been unrelenting Victorian-styled tragedy. Twists in the plot towards the end can only really be called twists by virtue of association, and not because they are particularly surprising. The story of Jan’s fate as a man who eventually finds himself having become the person he most hated bring about questions as to whether he will continue on that same path despite some measure of self awareness, but in the end one is not really encouraged to care past the closing credits.
It is unfortunate that Jan Dara is not as much as it could have been, and it is difficult to determine whether this is because of the original material or the adaptation process. If you don’t expect any true stimulation, erotic or otherwise, then this is a reasonably interesting film however powerful it ultimately could have been had it not lost its momentum somewhere between the sheets.