Thais invariably stood up in cinemas for the king's anthem during the reign of King Bhumibol Adulyadej, who died in 2016, but times have changed. © EPA/Jiji
The politics of Thai cinemas
To stand or not to stand -- an evening at the movies becomes an 'inflection point' in generational zeitgeist
MARWAAN MACAN-MARKAR
The politics of Thai cinemas
To stand or not to stand -- an evening at the movies becomes an 'inflection point' in generational zeitgeist
MARWAAN MACAN-MARKAR
January 19, 2022
NIKKEI ASIA
On a recent visit to a cinema in Bangkok, I was reminded of the dual role that movie theaters play in Thailand. One, of course, is to show films, local and foreign. The other is to reinforce in the audience a belief that their monarch serves as a unifying pillar in the Southeast Asian kingdom. That lesson plays out just before the main feature, when the screen in the darkened auditorium displays a message requesting the audience to stand as the strains of the king's anthem fill the hall, accompanied by images of the king's achievements.
The response of audiences -- standing up for the anthem -- was almost universal until the death of King Bhumibol Adulyadej in late 2016 ended a 70-year reign. The collage of images that accompanied the royal anthem during his reign reinforced the carefully crafted official line that King Bhumibol was a benevolent father figure and unifier of the nation. To foreigners like me it was further evidence of what appeared to be a culture of devotion to the monarchy.
But something quite different is now going on in cinemas. On a recent visit to the movies to see the sci-fi film "Dune" after a long hiatus due to the country's COVID-19 restrictions, I saw a remarkable shift in popular attitudes.
The film was screened at Siam Paragon, a high-end mall in Bangkok's upmarket shopping district that is popular with affluent Thai families. When the familiar request to stand flashed across the screen to the strains of the royal anthem, only a middle-aged Thai couple stood up. The rest of the audience, which mostly consisted of younger Thais, sat impassively through the entire anthem as if it were perfectly normal.
The images that filled the screen were of King Maha Vajiralongkorn, who has drawn unwelcome attention due to his extended stays in Europe and unconventional lifestyle. Comments on social media talk about his colorful overseas forays, his push to have a more direct say in managing the billions of dollars in royal assets and the deployment of security forces in Bangkok.
NIKKEI ASIA
On a recent visit to a cinema in Bangkok, I was reminded of the dual role that movie theaters play in Thailand. One, of course, is to show films, local and foreign. The other is to reinforce in the audience a belief that their monarch serves as a unifying pillar in the Southeast Asian kingdom. That lesson plays out just before the main feature, when the screen in the darkened auditorium displays a message requesting the audience to stand as the strains of the king's anthem fill the hall, accompanied by images of the king's achievements.
The response of audiences -- standing up for the anthem -- was almost universal until the death of King Bhumibol Adulyadej in late 2016 ended a 70-year reign. The collage of images that accompanied the royal anthem during his reign reinforced the carefully crafted official line that King Bhumibol was a benevolent father figure and unifier of the nation. To foreigners like me it was further evidence of what appeared to be a culture of devotion to the monarchy.
But something quite different is now going on in cinemas. On a recent visit to the movies to see the sci-fi film "Dune" after a long hiatus due to the country's COVID-19 restrictions, I saw a remarkable shift in popular attitudes.
The film was screened at Siam Paragon, a high-end mall in Bangkok's upmarket shopping district that is popular with affluent Thai families. When the familiar request to stand flashed across the screen to the strains of the royal anthem, only a middle-aged Thai couple stood up. The rest of the audience, which mostly consisted of younger Thais, sat impassively through the entire anthem as if it were perfectly normal.
The images that filled the screen were of King Maha Vajiralongkorn, who has drawn unwelcome attention due to his extended stays in Europe and unconventional lifestyle. Comments on social media talk about his colorful overseas forays, his push to have a more direct say in managing the billions of dollars in royal assets and the deployment of security forces in Bangkok.
Moviegoers were only allowed back into Thai cinemas from Oct. 1, when COVID-19 pandemic restrictions were finally eased. © AP
The display of silent defiance has gathered momentum in recent months; it has been noted by many Thais on social media and is discussed openly. Thai friends say with more than a hint of pride that this is the latest political fashion in a fad-obsessed country. This attention is understandable since those who refuse to stand are technically violating the country's draconian lese-majeste law that threatens a maximum of 15 years in prison for any act deemed insulting to the monarchy.
The stark shift in the cultural tide from devotion to defiance is fodder for social media comments. "I went to see 'Fast & Furious' at the cinema in Pattaya. Only two people stood. I was smiling under my [face] mask. Such a play should be removed already. It's such a waste of time," read one post.
Such sentiments show how far attitudes have changed since 2012 when Chotisak Onsoong, a young pro-democracy activist, and a friend dared to stay seated when the royal anthem was played. They were hounded by ultraroyalists, became targets of hate and were threatened with lese-majeste charges. Even as late as 2019, just before the pandemic struck, attitudes among Thai moviegoers had not changed: They stood as the royal anthem was played.
Cultural commentators characterize this spreading "passive defiance" as a "very Thai" way of responding to unhappy situations: a silent backlash. In doing so, young Thais appear to be exploring a new way to reflect the calls for change made by young protesters on the streets of Bangkok since mid-2020 when activists targeted the pro-military government and called for political reform, including changes to the monarchy's role in the polity. The demonstrations were crushed in a heavy-handed state response.
For the moment, the government appears at a loss on how to respond to this discreet but public challenge to the cinema reverence ritual. Prime Minister Prayuth Chan-ocha, the ex-army chief and former junta leader, has appealed to young people not to give in to peer pressure.
Yet, Thai cinemas have emerged as a new frontier for a generational zeitgeist. They have given a decisive answer to the question of whether or not to stand, something that seemed inconceivable just two years ago. From this perspective, Thai cinemas provide an inflection point in which the simple act of going to the movies becomes a political statement.
Marwaan Macan-Markar is an Asia regional correspondent for Nikkei Asia.
The display of silent defiance has gathered momentum in recent months; it has been noted by many Thais on social media and is discussed openly. Thai friends say with more than a hint of pride that this is the latest political fashion in a fad-obsessed country. This attention is understandable since those who refuse to stand are technically violating the country's draconian lese-majeste law that threatens a maximum of 15 years in prison for any act deemed insulting to the monarchy.
The stark shift in the cultural tide from devotion to defiance is fodder for social media comments. "I went to see 'Fast & Furious' at the cinema in Pattaya. Only two people stood. I was smiling under my [face] mask. Such a play should be removed already. It's such a waste of time," read one post.
Such sentiments show how far attitudes have changed since 2012 when Chotisak Onsoong, a young pro-democracy activist, and a friend dared to stay seated when the royal anthem was played. They were hounded by ultraroyalists, became targets of hate and were threatened with lese-majeste charges. Even as late as 2019, just before the pandemic struck, attitudes among Thai moviegoers had not changed: They stood as the royal anthem was played.
Cultural commentators characterize this spreading "passive defiance" as a "very Thai" way of responding to unhappy situations: a silent backlash. In doing so, young Thais appear to be exploring a new way to reflect the calls for change made by young protesters on the streets of Bangkok since mid-2020 when activists targeted the pro-military government and called for political reform, including changes to the monarchy's role in the polity. The demonstrations were crushed in a heavy-handed state response.
For the moment, the government appears at a loss on how to respond to this discreet but public challenge to the cinema reverence ritual. Prime Minister Prayuth Chan-ocha, the ex-army chief and former junta leader, has appealed to young people not to give in to peer pressure.
Yet, Thai cinemas have emerged as a new frontier for a generational zeitgeist. They have given a decisive answer to the question of whether or not to stand, something that seemed inconceivable just two years ago. From this perspective, Thai cinemas provide an inflection point in which the simple act of going to the movies becomes a political statement.
Marwaan Macan-Markar is an Asia regional correspondent for Nikkei Asia.
