Just mere months ago, same-sex marriage was officially passed in Thailand. Just as with America, the specifications and outer reach of the recognition may take a long while to be properly calibrated legally speaking. How apt that The Paradise of Thorns, somehow the debut feature and subsequent masterpiece of writer/director Boss Kuno, essentially explores this very topic. A wonderful gay couple are just beginning to truly start their lives together when a tragic accident rips everything away. However, it does not just take away one of their lives, but also threatens to domino effect through literally everything the duo built together. Kuno expertly reveals layer upon layer of shocking twists and frustratingly horrific injustices, anchored by an exceptional performance from lead actor Jeff Satur. Heartbreaking and achingly real, The Paradise of Thorns tightens its grip as one of the best thrillers in years.
The opening stretch of this captivating film finds a pair of characters at the happiest point in their lives. Thongkam (Satur) has just finished paying off his land deed and married the love of his life, Sek (Pongsakorn Mettarikanon). Together, the two grow and harvest durian fruit on their own orchard. Tragically, while trying to pick a bloom from a tree, Sek falls, his head hitting a branch on the way down. Sek, rushed to the hospital, must undergo a crucial operation in order to save his life. Despite Thongkam being Sek’s husband, he has no medical rights to make a life-altering decision. Authorities view Thongkam as merely a “friend.” Consequently, they must wait for Sek’s mother, Saeng (Srida Puapimol), to arrive to sign off on consent. The worst that could happen is that Sek ends up in a vegetative state before she gets there, but the doctor downplays the seriousness of the injury. Sek’s condition takes a sudden turn, leading to his untimely death and leaving Thongkam with nothing but pain. Saeng never makes it to the hospital.
Still, despite this horrible tragedy, Thongkam fully intends to carry out Sek’s wishes. Having put every cent into their future, Thongkam provided the funds to make their orchard dream a reality, whilst Sek was the planter and worker. Though Sek only had ten thousand dollars in savings, Thongkam vows to take care of Saeng. With a plan to sell the dorian orchard he built with Sek in just four months time, Thongkam brings the devastated Saeng, her adopted daughter/personal aide, Mo (Engfa Waraha), and Mo’s brother, Jingna (Harit Buayoi), back to his home. All of these characters are in a stage of mourning Sek—having died less than ten minutes into the movie, we can only deduce what kind of person Sek was through the eyes of those who loved him. Kuno’s richly-drawn script (co-written by Naron Cherdsoongnern and Karakade Norasethaporn) gives every major character a concise and oftentimes surprising arc, developing them well before the occurrence of major conflict. As it evolves, The Paradise of Thorns enrages as Thongkam must content with every imaginable scenario thrown his way in an already horrid situation.
According to antiquated laws, Sek’s mother, Saeng, has full claim to all property in her son’s name. Holding the view that “a child will forever be a parent’s possession for as long as they live,” Saeng will stop at nothing to reclaim anything that Sek touched while determined to leave his poor lover with absolutely nothing. Having been married since 2020, I am forever grateful that the law protects my union and assets to my husband. Even in my worst nightmares, I can barely imagine being in Thongkam’s shoes. Helplessly watching as he hatches a plan for revenge, Saltburn-style, I was rooting for him to absolutely destroy Saeng and Mo. A seduction begins between Thongkam and Jingna that could develop into a beautiful love, but how can a relationship born from the evil seeds of deception bear ripe fruit? Nevertheless, I found myself invested. It probably helps that Thongkam and Jingna are both absolutely adorable together in the face of significant challenges. Even calling them mere challenges feels like a wild understatement.
Performances across the board are captivating—Jeff Satur in particular shows the many shades of his character by leaning into Thongkam’s vulnerabilities and relentless passion to avenge what happened to Sek. As the de facto villain of the piece, Seeda Puapimon’s Saeng does wonders without having to move a leg. The film attempts to present several fascinating moral quandaries, particularly when it comes to Mo’s motivations. Mostly, Kuno leaves audiences with plenty to think about as the credits begin to roll. A proper cinematic experience has just unfolded, emotionally impactful and sadistically unsatisfying. Clocking in at over two hours in length, every second of the runtime is spent twisting the screws of tension, and threatening to break at any moment. Shocking and altogether note-perfect, The Paradise of Thorns hides a tapestry of queer tragedy inside an overripe durian.
The Paradise of Thorns screened at 2024’s Toronto International Film Festival.
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