Word: buddhistically
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...spot anything offensive about the following scenes from Syndromes and a Century, the dreamy new $1.1 million movie by Thai director and Cannes 2004 Prix du Jury winner Apichatpong Weerasethakul: a Buddhist monk strums a battered guitar; two monks play with a remote-controlled flying saucer in a park; a doctor kisses his girlfriend in a locker room; a group of doctors share a bottle of whiskey in a hospital basement...
...late 1980s, and the seemingly placid surface of that exquisite nation hid the passions of a people who yearned for freedom. It was one of the world's forgotten tragedies, until, that is, Burma forced itself back into global consciousness last month when vivid images of protesting Buddhist monks slipped past the restrictions imposed by the country's repressive military regime. We published two quick news stories, but we also planned a bigger take, sending Bangkok-based writer Andrew Marshall into the country...
...hoping that they won't want to create an international incident by firing on a scruffy-looking Brit, and that my presence will protect the protesters. She will soon be proved terribly wrong. But for the moment, the protesters appear undaunted, even jubilant. They are chanting a Buddhist mantra whose melody will haunt me for days to come...
...Buddhist monks who first sang this mantra. For a week now, they have been marching through these streets, calling peacefully for change in a country that has been ruled for almost a half-century by a barbaric military junta. Burma's monkhood and military are roughly the same size--each has 300,000 to 400,000 men--but there the similarities end. With the monks preaching tolerance and peace and the military demanding obedience at gunpoint, these protests pit Burma's most beloved institution against its most reviled...
They pour out of the Shwedagon, an immense golden pagoda that is Burma's most revered Buddhist monument, two miles north of downtown Rangoon. The monks form an unbroken, mile-long column--barefoot, chanting their haunting mantras, clutching pictures of the Buddha, their robes drenched with the late-monsoon rains. They walk briskly, stopping briefly to pray when they reach Sule Pagoda. Then they're off again, coursing through the city streets in a solid stream of red and orange, like blood vessels giving life to an oxygen-starved body. Their effect on Rangoon's residents is electrifying. At first...