Few performers boast a resume of such wide breadth as the intrepid, versatile Tilda Swinton, whose eclectic array of roles and collaborators run the full gamut of what acting can be. As confident popping into the Marvel Cinematic Universe as she is wandering a warehouse under the tutelage of Pedro Almodóvar, there’s seemingly no style she can’t master, making her the perfect partner for director Apichatpong Weerasethakul in the film of firsts that is “Memoria.” Leaving his native Thailand and making a foray into the English language, he’s put his faith in Swinton to anchor his signature style, in which action and dialogue take a back seat to stillness, mood, and texture. As a botanist nagged by a distant, ambiguous noise, she goes about discerning its origin in long takes straddling the opposed natural and industrial spheres of Bogotá, Colombia. From a state-of-the-art recording studio to the most remote pockets of the jungle, she pursues a transcendence she can’t name, hoping that finding its genesis may allay a deeper searching impulse within her.
As simpatico intellects and open-minded artists, Swinton and the director known to his many admirers as “Joe” are an ideal pairing, bringing his sui generis brand of abstraction to a wider audience than ever without compromising its enigmatic power. Back in the fall, the pair of legends took some time after the New York Film Festival premiere of “Memoria” to sit down with The Playlist and discuss one of the year’s finest films: the bond between its two chief architects, the roadshow release model causing a surprising stir, and the rare grace of simply being.
READ MORE: The 100 Most Anticipated Films Of 2022
When did you two meet face-to-face for the first time, and do you remember what you discussed on that day?
Tilda Swinton: You know, we can’t remember!
Apichatpong Weerasethakul: We did some festivals together.
Tilda Swinton: But we must have met in the flesh sometime before that. I have no memory, which says something about how we all communicate right now. I first ‘met’ Joe through his films, and then we started an email correspondence, that’s stage two. The whole thing of being in a room together — had we even Skyped before? Maybe we did, I don’t know. But the fact that neither of us is totally clear shows that we were set on this road.
When you meet someone you only know online, it can go one of two ways.
Tilda Swinton: Oh, yes, but there was no shock here.
But this first get-together was prior to “Memoria” taking shape?
Apichatpong Weerasethakul: Yes. By that time, we had collaborated, made short films together, and met up at film festivals, even one in the south of Thailand.
What did you two admire about one another’s work?
Tilda Swinton: What I do remember very well is the feeling of recognition. It was such a relief. The first film I saw was “Tropical Malady,” at Cannes in 2004, and I was able to see it with the Lumière’s great screen and sound system. And I recall feeling a sensation of relaxation — “ah, at last!” — for a cinema that I could rest within.
Apichatpong Weerasethakul: For me, it’s the opposite, because I saw you first in [Derek] Jarman’s films. I was watching a lot of films at that time, but later I stopped, so my memory of Tilda in cinema was from that early period. “Orlando,” where it’s not about the calm, but the fierceness. I have an image of you in “The Last of England,” with that spirit of fire.
What drew you to Bogotá and Colombia for your first feature outside Thailand?
Apichatpong Weerasethakul: It could’ve been in other places. But then it wouldn’t be “Memoria.” The city really speaks to me in terms of keeping something within itself. Thai people struggle to deal with the trauma of the land. The country was opening up, with the peace treaty, and we had to deal with the memory of that violence. There’s something similar between the two countries.
In terms of performance, what’s the physical experience of doing something like this — simple, static, often for a long span of time?
Tilda Swinton: It isn’t a role. It’s distinct. There’s something in Joe’s cinema that’s really dear to me, something that I’ve looked for for quite a long time, something that I’d last found with Derek Jarman. Even though I might have been ripping my dress off beside a fire in “The Last of England,” I was still free and relaxed in a way that I feel I can also be with Joe, even if the rhythms are different. Being able to set my own rhythm, in fact, that’s very precious. It’s my dream scenario. As a performer, I prefer to think of myself as an animal, and Joe gives me that capacity. It’s not just spontaneity, but being. Not pushing one’s self into the space, but a natural attendant awareness. An openness. Practically speaking, not socialized. For me, that’s very luxurious. And it does feel natural because when I’m not in a social scenario, I am a quiet and slow creature. I have to gear myself up to be fast or communicative. It’s a form of effort — not uncomfortable, but effortful. It’s not effortful for me to be slow, though I know others experience that differently.
The flip side of that, from a director’s perspective — what compels you to call cut after five minutes, rather than four or six? How do you know when a take ends?
Apichatpong Weerasethakul: I don’t, that’s the thing! It’s about listening to Tilda. And it also has to do with shooting on film. Tilda has become part of the technical team in this way, the whole operation. When you shoot on film, there are certain rituals of focus that everyone’s part of. You know you have limited time, then you have to change out the film, and you don’t see the result right away. You have a lot tied up in this limitation. So what it’s about is not thinking about time, just to be there.
In the editing booth, is it about that same instinctive element? Finding what feels correct in a shot? I think Jackson Pollock said his paintings were never finished, just that he eventually had to stop.
Apichatpong Weerasethakul: It’s not just about one, but the collective flow. In the film, I take a longer time than usual to find this flow. But I still don’t know, or there’s more I don’t know than I do.
Tilda Swinton: This is the huge issue, isn’t it?
Apichatpong Weerasethakul: This film in particular, if we send a link to you or screen it in the cinema, it’s a different film than it was in Cannes — big screen, big sound, lots of people. And it’s a different film in Bogotá. It makes me really happy when it’s like a concert, a one-off performance each time. It’s a curious experience.
Tilda Swinton: This is something that might be true of other films, but is certainly true of this one — we talk a lot about the experiential quality, but it’s almost like the film itself is porous. Because the audience isn’t just sitting there being fed information.
The film makes you come to it.
Tilda Swinton: You make it together! The two of you, the viewer and Joe. The film needs its audience; takes two to tango, you know.
This seems like a logical place to talk about the unorthodox release strategy, which has become a topic of much discussion. Do you have a reaction to the reaction? Some people seem pretty resistant to the idea that you should see a movie in a physical location with other people.
Apichatpong Weerasethakul: I am surprised by this. I discussed this with Neon, with an open heart and with love. I wish I could do this in Thailand, but it’s impossible with our geography. America is a big country with a tradition of traveling circuses and troupes. I remember, when I was younger in a small town in Thailand, I would wait for a particular film or event to come to my area for months. Now, with “Memoria,” the cinemas where it plays will not be empty. My last film played in how many theaters, seven? This could be a way to maybe reach more people, in distinct places. People may not be aware of the real intention of this strategy, so it demands your trust. And patience, too.
Tilda Swinton: For me, it’s a dream come true. I’ve actually talked with [Neon head] Tom Quinn about this for years, regarding other films we’ve done together. Myself, I’ve curated and run a traveling film festival going around the highlands of Scotland that we called a “pilgrimage,” where we brought a traveling screen to glens and lochs and beaches, places that have never had any cinema. This idea of a caravan, I find entirely appropriate to cinema. I’m sad, not downhearted, but I do think that there’s a misapprehension in people thinking of this initiative as “elitist.” That’s the word that really stings. I think that’s a misunderstanding. We think nothing of buying a ticket for our favorite band for a show near us as many as eight months or even a year in advance. We take that ticket and put it on the refrigerator under a magnet, and we start crossing out days on the calendar. We get excited! But the band’s not being elitist by choosing not to put this concert inside a tiny screen. We value them coming in person, and we value that big experience. I hope that when people think more about it, they’ll come to see that what we’re really doing is dignifying cinema not just with a screen that deserves it, but with a sense of place, specific place and occasion.
Going to the movies is the cheapest form of mass entertainment there is!
Tilda Swinton: And it’s so recent, this everything-always-all-of-the-time thinking. I remember a friend, who was born in 1940, telling me about the cinema experience in Scotland during the ‘50s. A film would come for a week, and you’d never see it again. It wouldn’t be on TV, certainly wouldn’t be on DVD. There weren’t starting times, either, by the way. You’d buy a ticket for “To Be or Not to Be,” and you’d show up at some point, and you might have to go through the end credits and the front credits before it would loop around and start again. You might could spend seven hours there and watch the movie on repeat, if you wanted to. This attachment to the compartmentalization of the screening program, that’s recent. People have become a bit lazy.
The scene in the recording studio, trying to recreate that noise, stands out — does that process of tinkering and fine-tuning mirror your process as a filmmaker?
Apichatpong Weerasethakul: Yes, exactly. It’s hard to communicate transparently, there’s always the limitation of the medium. This scene presents that, the difficulty of channeling sounds in my head.
Tilda Swinton: This feels to me like a scene about the project of art, having the guts to say, ‘Hey, I’ve got something in my head, I want to take it out and put it in yours.’ And someone else says, ‘Alright, show me, try.’ There’s an acknowledgment that it may be impossible, she says that.
Apichatpong Weerasethakul: It all deals with memory. The scene where [Tilda’s character] Jessica goes to the equipment checkout room and asks for Hernán, and they say, “Hernán who?” and she doesn’t have his photo — all she has is memory of the art.
In terms of the foley work, what is it that makes the sound Jessica keeps hearing?
Apichatpong Weerasethakul: I actually don’t know!
One last thing, for Tilda — I’d heard you’re going to be in David Fincher’s new film. If your hands aren’t tied, I’d love to hear about that.
Tilda Swinton: Well, yes, I think I am, yes! That’s next year. That’s a whole other story.
Based on what I know about Fincher, I’m sure he works in a polar-opposite style than you two had on this film.
Tilda Swinton: Oh, but always. Every filmmaker is a unique individual, as unique as each person. This is one of my life’s real treasures, to be able to work within these different conversations. It’s always cinema, and it’s always an experiment. What a luxury.
