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Portrait of the legal and social marginalization suffered by LGBT+ people in Thailand
What are "rights"? Are they something that all people are entitled to, regardless of age, origin, culture and any other circumstance, or do we earn it? Does the law have the power to dictate them or can we simply assume that we are entitled to enjoy the rights due to circumstances or tradition?
These questions arise in my mind from the opening scenes of 'The Paradise of Thorns', Boss Naruebet Kuno's feature debut, which takes viewers on a gripping emotional journey to address love, loss and the harsh realities of inequality legal in a compelling and visually impressive way.
Thongkam (Jeff Satur) and Sek (Pongsakorn Mettarikanon) are a gay couple who are married in every sense except the legal formalities, and who have spent five years building a durian orchard and the house they live in in the area rural Mae Hong Son.
But when Sek has an accident and goes to the hospital, the doctors refuse to recognize Thongkam as his partner, insisting that only Sek's elderly mother, Saeng (Seeda Puapimon), can sign a consent form for a surgical operation. An accident means that Saeng never makes it in time and Sek dies, revealing the harsh reality that same-sex marriage was not legally recognized in Thailand at the time of the film's release.
Sek's death leaves Thongkam vulnerable to draconian inheritance laws and family members eager to take away what the couple has built.
These scenes alone, in which men are unable to make decisions on behalf of the other when one is incapacitated, should be enough of an example of why marriage equality is so important everywhere.
The house and durian orchard, which belong to both men in spirit, turned out to be in Sek's name. This generates complications after his death, when the invalid mother and her adopted daughter Mo (Engfa Waraha), in charge of pushing the wheelchair, arrive to claim what they believe is theirs.
Thongkam will challenge the intentions of mother and adopted daughter, but since equal marriage is not recognized, the courts side with them, forcing the young man to ask Saeng to hire him as staff to manage the orchard, along with Mo's brother, Jingna (Harit Buayoi).
And right at this moment I ask myself other questions: Would Thongkam have had a happier fate in Thailand today, after becoming the first country in Southeast Asia, the third in Asia and the thirty-seventh on a global scale on January 23, 2025 in allowing legal unions for homosexual couples, and granting adoption and inheritance rights to same-sex couples? Is this a rare case where real life might be better than the movies?
Precisely, this is the theme explored in the film, which aims to paint a compelling and comprehensive image of how marginalized LGBTQ+ people have been legally and socially in that nation for decades.
The melancholic music, especially the song "Rain Wedding", performed by Satur himself, in collaboration with Vichaya Vatanasapt, who is also responsible for the heartbreaking musical themes of 'I Told Sunset About You', adds nuances to the plight of Thongmak, while he watches helplessly as the beloved garden that he raised with tooth and nail with Sek slips out of his hands.
But as the film shifts into a black comedy as he tries to overcome the situation he finds himself in, so does the music, which borders on suspense, preparing the audience for what awaits them.
With a tagline that reads "the land of love and resentment" it is evident from the beginning that the film is not feel-good cinema.
Quickly, the narrative jumps right into the action with death, which is the catalyst for all the events of the film.
Soon Thongkam will understand that the world will not be kind to him, which leads him to plan revenge, and he transforms into the antihero.
Similarly, Mo and Saeng offer an image of malevolent characters, to later show that things are not so black and white.
Although the film gets dark at times, the rivalry between Mo and Thongkam keeps it entertaining. While they are opposites of each other, an opportunistic and selfish woman versus a desperate and romantic farmer, when they start playing each other's games, we realize that they are quite similar.
Through Thongkam's eyes, Saeng and Mo are invading, malevolent forces coming to steal what is his. Saeng even evicts the young man from the bed he shared with Sek, and, to make matters worse, urinates in it. The consequences of her motor disability are used by Kuno to, behind Thongkam's back, also create a feeling of sympathy for both women.
However, the two evil women will even go so far as to expel Thongkam from his own house and his own land. To get back what is his, the young man invents his own plan to please them: a cunning and slow revenge plot that will captivate the viewer, considering the two faces that Thongkam comes to have.
On the one hand, he is practically a classic Disney villain, with a heart of gold and a justified grudge, and the actor who plays him completes the contours of the character with grit and ductility.
The actors bring great passion to their work: Engfa Waraha's performance as Mo is complex and formidable. It reminds me of Cersei Lannister, the fictional character from 'Game of Thrones'. Deeply narcissistic and ambitious, Mo will stop at nothing to take over the house and orchard, and shows little to no regard for others. She is filled with bitterness for having pushed Saeng's wheelchair for 20 years, an effort with which she hoped to be rewarded with Sek's love and recognized as the invalid matriarch's heir.
Since much of the story takes place from Thongkam's perspective, Mo is initially portrayed as a villain, but the very well-rounded performance of the actress who brings the character to life shows us that there is more to her.
Jeff Satur as Thongkam is sympathetic and desperate, a character you can really root for even when his methods of staying on the farm are morally questionable. Her encounters under the mosquito net with the Jingna eventually develop into a tender romance, and you soon find yourself rooting for them both to live happily. Unfortunately, a third act breaking point for Thongkam puts an end to that fantasy.
The colors also define the moods and moments of the film. Warm, romantic tones accompany Thongkam's honeymoon scenes, taking on a harsh tone as Mo and Saeng's true colors come to light. At these moments the lighting becomes harsh and yellowish, as a sign of the rupture of the happiness that reigned in the past in the house and the garden.
The colors perfectly characterize the characters: Mo switches between muted and bright shades of pink, representing her emotional journey. For his part, we see in the young farmer how his out-of-place aesthetic predominates, with leather jackets and shiny dresses, in the same way that society does not accept relationships between two men.
After directing several television series, such as 'I Told Sunset about You' and 'I Promised You the Moon', Boss Kuno applies what he learned on the serialized television set, delivering very high-quality images, an attractive young cast and high dramatic tension, to bring us a story divided into equal parts of revenge thriller, LGBTQ+ drama and social commentary.
The plot, written by Kuno and his collaborators Naron Cherdsoongnern and Karakade Norasethaporn, paints a picture of homophobia, seen primarily through the verbal battles between the mother and Thongkam; the social inequality faced by homosexual couples, while also shedding light on the plight of women like Mo, who have no chance of moving up the social ladder except marrying into a rich family or resorting to crime, manipulation, lying...
A film with many symbolisms: the scene of the moth sitting on Thongkam's nose is a great metaphor for the transformation when Thongkam decides to take justice into his own hands to avenge the damage caused, not so much by the mother-in-law and Mo, but by the Thai laws that deny you the right to what is yours as property.
The cultural richness of Thailand shown in the film should also be highlighted, with events such as monastic ordination, the first rain and traditional weddings, but also consciously used as a determining factor in the conflict.
These questions arise in my mind from the opening scenes of 'The Paradise of Thorns', Boss Naruebet Kuno's feature debut, which takes viewers on a gripping emotional journey to address love, loss and the harsh realities of inequality legal in a compelling and visually impressive way.
Thongkam (Jeff Satur) and Sek (Pongsakorn Mettarikanon) are a gay couple who are married in every sense except the legal formalities, and who have spent five years building a durian orchard and the house they live in in the area rural Mae Hong Son.
But when Sek has an accident and goes to the hospital, the doctors refuse to recognize Thongkam as his partner, insisting that only Sek's elderly mother, Saeng (Seeda Puapimon), can sign a consent form for a surgical operation. An accident means that Saeng never makes it in time and Sek dies, revealing the harsh reality that same-sex marriage was not legally recognized in Thailand at the time of the film's release.
Sek's death leaves Thongkam vulnerable to draconian inheritance laws and family members eager to take away what the couple has built.
These scenes alone, in which men are unable to make decisions on behalf of the other when one is incapacitated, should be enough of an example of why marriage equality is so important everywhere.
The house and durian orchard, which belong to both men in spirit, turned out to be in Sek's name. This generates complications after his death, when the invalid mother and her adopted daughter Mo (Engfa Waraha), in charge of pushing the wheelchair, arrive to claim what they believe is theirs.
Thongkam will challenge the intentions of mother and adopted daughter, but since equal marriage is not recognized, the courts side with them, forcing the young man to ask Saeng to hire him as staff to manage the orchard, along with Mo's brother, Jingna (Harit Buayoi).
And right at this moment I ask myself other questions: Would Thongkam have had a happier fate in Thailand today, after becoming the first country in Southeast Asia, the third in Asia and the thirty-seventh on a global scale on January 23, 2025 in allowing legal unions for homosexual couples, and granting adoption and inheritance rights to same-sex couples? Is this a rare case where real life might be better than the movies?
Precisely, this is the theme explored in the film, which aims to paint a compelling and comprehensive image of how marginalized LGBTQ+ people have been legally and socially in that nation for decades.
The melancholic music, especially the song "Rain Wedding", performed by Satur himself, in collaboration with Vichaya Vatanasapt, who is also responsible for the heartbreaking musical themes of 'I Told Sunset About You', adds nuances to the plight of Thongmak, while he watches helplessly as the beloved garden that he raised with tooth and nail with Sek slips out of his hands.
But as the film shifts into a black comedy as he tries to overcome the situation he finds himself in, so does the music, which borders on suspense, preparing the audience for what awaits them.
With a tagline that reads "the land of love and resentment" it is evident from the beginning that the film is not feel-good cinema.
Quickly, the narrative jumps right into the action with death, which is the catalyst for all the events of the film.
Soon Thongkam will understand that the world will not be kind to him, which leads him to plan revenge, and he transforms into the antihero.
Similarly, Mo and Saeng offer an image of malevolent characters, to later show that things are not so black and white.
Although the film gets dark at times, the rivalry between Mo and Thongkam keeps it entertaining. While they are opposites of each other, an opportunistic and selfish woman versus a desperate and romantic farmer, when they start playing each other's games, we realize that they are quite similar.
Through Thongkam's eyes, Saeng and Mo are invading, malevolent forces coming to steal what is his. Saeng even evicts the young man from the bed he shared with Sek, and, to make matters worse, urinates in it. The consequences of her motor disability are used by Kuno to, behind Thongkam's back, also create a feeling of sympathy for both women.
However, the two evil women will even go so far as to expel Thongkam from his own house and his own land. To get back what is his, the young man invents his own plan to please them: a cunning and slow revenge plot that will captivate the viewer, considering the two faces that Thongkam comes to have.
On the one hand, he is practically a classic Disney villain, with a heart of gold and a justified grudge, and the actor who plays him completes the contours of the character with grit and ductility.
The actors bring great passion to their work: Engfa Waraha's performance as Mo is complex and formidable. It reminds me of Cersei Lannister, the fictional character from 'Game of Thrones'. Deeply narcissistic and ambitious, Mo will stop at nothing to take over the house and orchard, and shows little to no regard for others. She is filled with bitterness for having pushed Saeng's wheelchair for 20 years, an effort with which she hoped to be rewarded with Sek's love and recognized as the invalid matriarch's heir.
Since much of the story takes place from Thongkam's perspective, Mo is initially portrayed as a villain, but the very well-rounded performance of the actress who brings the character to life shows us that there is more to her.
Jeff Satur as Thongkam is sympathetic and desperate, a character you can really root for even when his methods of staying on the farm are morally questionable. Her encounters under the mosquito net with the Jingna eventually develop into a tender romance, and you soon find yourself rooting for them both to live happily. Unfortunately, a third act breaking point for Thongkam puts an end to that fantasy.
The colors also define the moods and moments of the film. Warm, romantic tones accompany Thongkam's honeymoon scenes, taking on a harsh tone as Mo and Saeng's true colors come to light. At these moments the lighting becomes harsh and yellowish, as a sign of the rupture of the happiness that reigned in the past in the house and the garden.
The colors perfectly characterize the characters: Mo switches between muted and bright shades of pink, representing her emotional journey. For his part, we see in the young farmer how his out-of-place aesthetic predominates, with leather jackets and shiny dresses, in the same way that society does not accept relationships between two men.
After directing several television series, such as 'I Told Sunset about You' and 'I Promised You the Moon', Boss Kuno applies what he learned on the serialized television set, delivering very high-quality images, an attractive young cast and high dramatic tension, to bring us a story divided into equal parts of revenge thriller, LGBTQ+ drama and social commentary.
The plot, written by Kuno and his collaborators Naron Cherdsoongnern and Karakade Norasethaporn, paints a picture of homophobia, seen primarily through the verbal battles between the mother and Thongkam; the social inequality faced by homosexual couples, while also shedding light on the plight of women like Mo, who have no chance of moving up the social ladder except marrying into a rich family or resorting to crime, manipulation, lying...
A film with many symbolisms: the scene of the moth sitting on Thongkam's nose is a great metaphor for the transformation when Thongkam decides to take justice into his own hands to avenge the damage caused, not so much by the mother-in-law and Mo, but by the Thai laws that deny you the right to what is yours as property.
The cultural richness of Thailand shown in the film should also be highlighted, with events such as monastic ordination, the first rain and traditional weddings, but also consciously used as a determining factor in the conflict.
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