Shati (Ilada Pitsuwan) works in an art gallery in a quiet seaside town. We first see her putting on a hijab as part of her daily routine. Her parents ask her when she's getting married, eventually taking matters into their own hands and setting her up with the son of a family friend. Faisal (Khalid Midam). Her life seems set, though throughout the film there are pictures of restraint, of barriers in the sea, of birds in cages.
Her life is upturned when she meets Fon (Rawipa Srisanguan), an artist who comes to the gallery to present an exhibition based and set on the sea. It turns out that the barriers aren't as beneficial as what the authorities that put them up may think. "What constrains us, erodes us," she tells Shati. Feelings deep inside Shati begin to grow, feelings that run counter to her set life.
Solids on the Seashore is occasionally punctuated by Malick-esque scenes of sea life and other abstract things, as if the feelings burgeoning within Shati is being pulled from some supernatural force. When her feelings finally blossom, it culminates in a scene that feels so tactile, so intimate, yet so restrained at the same time.
Unlike other similar films, the film makes Shati's choice not so clear cut; for all intents and purposes Faisal seems like a decent man, and it looks like if they did get married, their marriage would not be a troubled one. After laying bare Shati's feelings, director Patiparn Boontarig leans on magical realism, trying to reflect the dual yearnings for a life where one floats along the waves and one where one simply lets the waves crash into them.
We first see Zaffan (Zafreen Zairizal) recording a Tiktok dance in a bathroom with her friends. She's a bit of a free spirit, flouting the school rules and jumping into rivers, much like any child. One day, however, Zaffan has her first period and her body starts to change. She sees someone in the trees that no one else can see, and she begins to act out ferally. She is turning into a harimau jadian, or weretiger.
In her seminal book The Monstrous-Feminine, Barbara Creed writes about how the prototype of the monstrous in all forms of media is the female reproductive body. In her discourse regarding Brian De Palma's Carrie (1976), blood - specifically, the blood related to menstruation - is linked to her supernatural powers. As a 'witch', she "... sets out to unsettle boundaries between the rational and irrational, symbolic and imaginary."
Folklore has long used a fear of the feminine to imagine its monsters. There's the pontianak who lives in trees and eats passersby, especially men. There's the manananggal who splits her body at night to hunt for food. Then there are the many spirits and demons in Japanese folklore, women wronged in some fashion and made to seek revenge against those who wronged them.
Yet in modern society, there seems to be no boogeyman so terrifying to men (and even women, as manifestations of internalized misogyny) as that of femininity itself. The harimau jadian is no less feared as that of the teenage girl, femininity as a monster that needs to be controlled and suppressed. Director Amanda Nell Eu ties the bodily transformations of puberty with the supernatural transformation of man to animal, and this brings out fear in those who do not understand. In Tiger Stripes, Zaffan is subjected to all sorts of humiliation and trials simply because she has her period. By custom, she is unable to pray because her menstrual flow is unclean. She is bullied and ostracized by her peers because of it; Farah (Deena Ezral), her former friend, is the ringleader, though this disgust is learned - she picked it up from her father, who reacted negatively when Farah's sister inadvertently bled on the family sofa.
In real life, the film struck a nerve among conservatives, who censored the film to remove images of blood and unabashed femininity. Even in the real world, there is an undercurrent of fear regarding women and women's bodies, no 'monster' so feared. Yet these are just young women just coming of age, living their lives. To me the end scene communicates that: as they pass from children to young adults, they are treated as monsters, but they are no different in essence to who they were before - human beings capable of happiness, friendship and even love.
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