"The film functions not only as a loving tribute to the past, but as Weerasethakul's attempt at experiential preservation." - Nick Schager

(spoilers) The first half depicts characters in a traditional (rural) syndrome. A "century" later and the same characters appear (reincarnated) live with a modern syndrome. Basically, the film strongly suggest that the former is more humane and more alive. That's my take on the film anyway.

Impossible to nail down with just a single viewing; its enigmatic structure and lack of concrete narrative make it almost frustratingly mysterious but it's got a haunting, lingering quality that stuck with me afterward. I can tell that this will greatly benefit from repeat viewings - and am already itching to watch it again.

It's a little less abstract than I expected, until the very end. Still, for all its difficulty in having to watch it, there are some great shots.

21 Temmuz 2011 & ask ile ilgili bir film degil. hafiza ile ilgili de oldugunu sanmiyorum. yonetmen, her zaman icin mekan-zaman iliskisine kafayi takmis durumda. burada da olaylar, karakterler benzer kalsa da film ikiye ayriliyor ve yonetmen zaman ve mekani degistirerek seyirciye farkli bir deneyim sunuyor. asil soru, ilk bolum mu yoksa 'a century' sonraki bolum mu insanlik adina daha dogru oldugu? zaman degistikce, mekanlar modernlestikce, insan iliskileri daha da mi yapaylasiyor? sanirim evet.

A slow, beautiful, humble revealing of Being in time. Amazing.

Bizarre, surreal, serene, and beautiful. You can also say it's confusing as hell but it becomes less frustrating if you acknowledge there is no narrative structure. There is a very buddhist element to this film and it has a theme of balance and rebirth. Unfortunately, this is nearly indecipherable outside of the film buff community. One interesting scene is the jarring transition in the mirror story from reserved traditional courtship to making out in physician's overcoats.

Last Year at Thailandienbad

Contemplative, mysterious, and beautifully heartfelt. I love films that employ these kind of meditative rhythms, and I love films whose mysteries invite you to revisit them. The structure of this movie is unlike any other I've seen before. One pays special attention to the mirroring instances between the two stories, many of which are done in subtle ways. The photography invokes an eerie blend of the peaceful and the vaguely unsettling, and the performances are all very naturalistic.

What the fuck did I just watch? It's certainly an original film, with not much in the way of narrative, or characters...there's definitely a structure to it, and the way the two halves parallel is interesting, even if not quite understandable. I don't know how to rank this. On the one hand, most of it was relentlessly boring. On the other hand, certain scenes did...something to me. They were oddly entrancing, somehow unsettling, bizarre, and natural all at once. I can't describe it.

A very unique, emotional and thoughtful film. You can't always make complete sense of what's going on but it's still captivating to watch and definitely gives off that feeling that multiple viewings will be rewarding.

Love the mirroring of events that goes on in both halves of the film, a technique that is also mirrored (sorry) in the visual design. The director uses reflections, but also flips the position of the camera in some of the mirrored scenes of the film's second half. Love the meditative nature of films like this, films that invite us to contemplate the simple beauties of our world.

Monks who wanted to be DJs and solar eclipses.

The first half shows the feminine - open spaces, huge green fields and a distinct focus on nature with an eclipse serving as the most striking image of the opening 50 minutes. The second half the masculine - the characters are more confident and more open in their passion but they also live in a more claustrophobic, mechanical world - the equivalent to the eclipse here is a pipe as it sucks in swirling smoke. As the end shows ultimately the world needs both masculinity and femininity.

More tonal poem than narrative, Syndromes's bifurcated structure explores the distance between the fertile/feminine, the mechanical/masculine. The camera proves a medium between the two, capturing the same exchanges from startling, unexpected angles. The visual convergence of solar eclipse and dark pipe suggests a blurring of time and space and even subjectivity. Visual representation of Buddhist cyclicality, rural/urban discordance, our inability to learn from our mistakes? Dunno, but I love it

Almost reminiscent of a low-voiced, unhurried Sans Soleil... To watch a Weerasethakul is almost to sink into another dimension. Constantly meditative, strangely playful and uncommonly tolerant, it's an absorbing, stunning film.

There Was Not Much Going On Or I Did Not Understand But It Is Okay

An astounding juxtaposition of the timeless, static earth and the phenotype microcosm. Leaves you breathless in its scope. The second part contains perplexing, perhaps highly autobiographical and abstract metaphor. I get the impression that the result doesn't quite meet the director's idealised standard, but the presentation is no deterrent to accessibility. I've seen it twice now, but I expect to watch it many more times, and am quite sure my score will rise with each viewing.