Where is home? Perhaps a more interesting question is what is it about a specific place that leads it to earn such a label, whether it is for an individual or a wider group of people? In her second feature directorial outing (following her well-received Ashore a few years ago), Leonor Teles, who had previously worked as a cinematographer on a range of different projects, makes Baan, which derives its title from the Thai word for “home”, and which follows “L”, a young Portuguese individual drifting aimlessly between their home in Lisbon and what appears to be a neighbourhood in Bangkok, where they seek out work. It is between these two places that the protagonist is in search for their home, which starts to become more complicated once they meet “K”, a young woman of ambiguous origin, her stories situating her past in various places, including Canada, the United States and China, all of which she speaks about as if they were homes from which she retreated. The two protagonists gradually fall in love, seeing reflections of themselves in one another and their perpetual search for a sense of belonging, not realizing the challenges that lay ahead as they continue to drift through the world, unaware of the consequences of a love that may not be forbidden, but is certainly not leading them down a path towards resolving their quandaries. A deeply experimental film in which Teles is likely addressing some of her existential curiosities through filtering them into a singular narrative, Baan is a fascinating project that may not always have all of its ideas arranged in an order that makes sense, but still has enough complexity to sustain a somewhat challenging premise that is only made more complicated by the structure, which in turn doesn’t lend itself to much easy conversation. Nonetheless, Teles has crafted something memorable in both form and style, with Baan developing into quite an engaging film, albeit one that still indicates an artist who is still developing her voice.

Narratively, Baan is a film that seems to be enthralled with its tendency towards being experimental, which is a trait that does give the film some sense of artistic resonance, but makes understanding its theoretical framework much more difficult. The concept of homecoming has persisted throughout the works of many fantastic artists, and Teles is one of a myriad voices that have outwardly explored the topic through the lens of a psychological character study. Coming from a Portuguese background and being set mostly in the capital, the director knows the value of the idea of a home, both physically and psychologically. Portugal is a country where most of the young people leave to find careers in other countries where the opportunities are more frequent and the financial gains far more significant, which has led to a widespread diaspora that has only recently started to circle back as descendants of those who left begin to return, while those who have remained do their best to rework their country’s image into one that is far more positive than dominant perceptions. These ideas are woven into the story of L, who is on a journey of self-discovery. They are a complex protagonist moving through time and space without paying too much attention to their surroundings, focused more on understanding both the past and future in tandem. It’s a fascinating approach and a subject that is extremely resonant, especially for those of us who are of Portuguese descent or recognize the feeling of existing within a diaspora that is in constant search of itself, which can be a daunting but worthwhile endeavour, especially in forming our identities and helping us understand the world that surrounds us.

However, despite its strong concept, Baan is a film that struggles to realize some of its broader themes in a manner that isn’t outwardly quite bewildering after a while. The film undeniably has several terrific ideas, but its clear that Teles is not quite at the point where she can form them into a narrative that is both artistically profound and narratively impactful, with the film devolving into a series of meandering vignettes that believe ambiguity is a powerful artistic technique, rather than making it clear that there is a lot more needed beneath the surface than this stream of consciousness approach that seemingly defines the film, and ultimately is the source of some of its more frustrating elements. It is undeniably well-made, and it is obvious that the director has worked extensively in the field of cinematography, since the compositions and colours of each shot are extremely beautiful, but they feel quite hollow when we notice how they’re not accompanied by much thematic relevance. The neon-soaked imagery is aesthetically quite pleasing, but it is barely supported by a story that fits the amount of effort that went into the creation. There isn’t much plot, and it moves in such a prosaic direction, it never feels like there is any accumulation of ideas or thematic development that would justify some of the directorial choices, leading us to realize that Baan is a beautiful but vacant film that lacks substance and believes that we can be hypnotized by the stunning images, which are undeniably striking, but only until we move past the unique visual approach and begin to demand something more complex in terms of the story, a fool’s errand considering how limited the scope of the film was when it came time to following through on its supposedly ambitious ideas.

Following on from the feeling that the film lacks focus and cohesion, we find that Baan struggles when it comes to characterization, which is perhaps the one area in which it seemed like it had the best potential to make a compelling case for some of its more bewildering choices. We don’t ever learn much about either of the main character – L is the focus, and while we do get glimpses into their past and general day-to-day routine, their inner psychological state is left somewhat ambiguous, never emerging as anything particularly valuable until midway through the film, which is when the story begins to shift and we understand more of the direction in which the story is going, but by which point the audience has already started to feel somewhat ambivalent to the premise, based on the lack of clear character development, which then does extend into the introduction of K and her role in the narrative. This isn’t to disparage either of the performances, since both Carolina Miragaia and Meghna Lall are very good, and ultimately seem to be bursting at the seams to develop these characters to be more nuanced and complex. Miragaia has the challenge of taking this extremely ambiguous character and infusing it with heart and soul, despite us never quite understanding what they represent other than the generations of restless souls who yearned for a sense of belonging. The romance between the two central characters is very moving, and both actors commit wholeheartedly to the premise, but it doesn’t ever manifest into anything entirely worthwhile after the novelty of the ambiguity wears off, and we are left with quite vacant characters that may be intriguing, but lack much nuance outside of being intriguing allegories for a much wider population of people represented by their journey.

Baan is an impenetrable film by design, which is why it is difficult to use this as a criticism, since it feels like we are viewing an intentional choice as a flaw, when in reality it is something that the director aimed to include as part of the overall experience. However, we can attribute this to the fact that Teles is a young director who is still forming her vision, and that the overemphasis on the form of the film more than the substance of the story can be viewed as merely the process of leaping from one side of the medium to another, and gradually beginning to develop the confidence and self-assured understanding of the narrative process that will hopefully even out as time progresses. It’s far from a film where its faults overwhelm the positive aspects – it is exceptionally well-made, filled with unique ideas and a sense of earnestness that is impossible to overlook, and its underlying themes (while not always well-defined) are enough to pique our curiosity and immerse us in this unorthodox psychological drama. The bright colours and pulsating score (some of the songs chosen are quite strange in the context of the film, but they nonetheless do add to the overall experience) create a fascinating experimental drama, and while it doesn’t represent all of its ideas entirely well, it is undoubtedly a solid and engaging affair that earns our respect, even if it can’t quite scrounge up enough of our passion to be a truly exemplary project.