Kontrabida Academic

Melodrama

I.

Elsaesser touches on a couple different definitions of melodrama, so let's start with the first: a more classic understanding of the word.

He writes that,

In its dictionary sense, melodrama is a dramatic narrative in which musical accompaniment marks the emotional effects. This is still perhaps the most useful definition, because it allows melodramatic elements to be seen as constituents of a system of punctuation, giving expressive colour and chromatic contrast to the storyline, by orchestrating the emotional ups and downs of the intrigue." (pg. 172)

In terms of an example of this, we might think about about "melodramatic" moments in soap operas or maybe even lakorns, where dramatic scenes are paired with intense music.

If you've even seen To Sir, With Love or a number of other Thai lakorns, you know exactly what I'm talking about- there's so many moments through out the show that are key examples of this.

It might seem counterintuitive to think about the word "melodrama" paired with the word "music," but this actually comes from the original definition of the word.

Historically, in the eighteenth century, melodramas referred to "Victorian dramas in which orchestral music or song was used to accompany the action." However, the definition of the word has expanded since then.

II.

Thinking about how the film industry has changed over time, Elsaesser proposes a second way to define the term:

Considered as an expressive code, melodrama might therefore be described as a particular form of dramatic mise-en-scène, characterized by a dynamic use of spatial and musical categories... [that] allow for complex aesthetic patterns. (pg. 173)

He notes that with the advent of sound, films switched from having a live piano accompaniment as the only thing punctuating the emotional highs-and-lows of the story to spoken words/dialogue.

Elsaesser theorizes that because early directors had to develop "an extremely subtle and yet precise language...of lighting, staging, decor, [etc]" (pg. 173) to compensate for things (i.e. tension, tonality) that could only be expressed through words, a switch was made when sound was introduced.

He argues that, just as speech in the modern film world "loses some of its semantic importance in favor of its material aspects as sound [i.e. diction]," then conversely "lighting, composition, and decor increase their semantic and syntactic contributions to the aesthetic effect. They become fundamental and integral elements in the construction of meaning. This is the justification for giving critical importance to the mise-en-scène over intellectual content or story value" (pg. 173-4).

Thanks for staying with me, because I know that these pieces of theory might seem a little overwhelming.

But essentially, what Elsaesser is trying to say is that around the 50s-60s, key aspects of the American family melodrama were not only expressed through dialogue/sound, but also through stuff such as set design, color, and frame composition. Minor elements of a film were used to call attention to a character's mental and emotional state of mind.

All that Heaven Allows, Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, and Far From Heaven

Source: Criterion

Douglas Sirk was a famous director of melodramas, including well-known works such as Written on the Wind (1956) and Imitation of Life (1959) I'll use one of his films, All that Heaven Allows- as well as its various adaptions (Ali: Fear Eats the Soul and Far From Heaven)- to provide examples of Elsaesser's theory.

All that Heaven Allows (1955) follows the story of Cary, a widow who falls in love with her much younger arborist, Ron. Their relationship very much is a forbidden romance, especially since the two have an age gap and come from different social classes (coupled by the fact that Ron was previously a contractor that Cary hired).

Members of Cary's community- including her friends and her adult children- disapprove of their relationship, which is met with a lot of backlash. In the end, however, Cary decides not to let other people determine how she lives her life- choosing to end up with Ron.

Stills that highlight Sirk's use of color (Source: film_magic)

Sirk's directorial style is characterized by an extreme attention to aspects of filmmaking such as color theory and mise-en-scène. All that Heaven Allows is not an exception- like Elsaesser suggests, the film translates melodrama and emotional tension into even the smallest details.

For instance, during one seemingly minor scene, Cary's children gift her a TV, intending for it to keep her "company" instead of Ron. As the gift is revealed, the camera zooms closer and closer to the screen, eventually focusing on Cary's distorted reflection.

Daniel Lehman has a much more extensive deep-dive into this scene, but I'll touch on some of his key ideas here.

The particular framing of the shot, with "the placement of Ned and the TV man on either side of the television, while Cary is seen only as a reflection within, suggests her removal from their world as a whole. She does not fit in with them anymore; it seems as if she no longer cares to, either. She is observing her own detachment from the socialite crowd that she was once so content to be a part of."

Even smaller aspects of the scene, such as the colors used in the background and the movement of the camera (which creates a "revelatory" shot), add to its impact.

Lehman notes that,

"This is not because of some technical trickery by the filmmaker. Rather, the scene is shot in such a way to earn this response from the viewer all on its own. We know Cary’s character well enough to know what she is thinking and what her next action will be, all without any verbal hints, and are enraptured by her inner turmoil displaying itself onscreen."

This fits closely with Elsaesser's idea that a melodrama's mise-en-scène (lighting, montage, visual rhythm, decor, style of acting, and music) help "translate...character into action" and "action into gesture and dynamic space" (pg. 176)

The television scene- although a minor moment- becomes almost the turning point of the film as it prompts Cary to reflect on her decision to leave Ron behind. Later, it helps spur her to give their relationship another try (thus moving character into action).

Before I move on from All that Heaven Allows, I think one other interesting observation is that this focus on mise-en-scène may (in part) be due to the Hays Code.

The Hays Code, which lasted in the US from 1934 to 1968, imposted self-censorship regulations over major motion pictures. Under the code, everything from profanity to showing a man and a woman sleeping in the same bed could be cut from a film.

Source: Margaret Herrick Library Digital Collections

Correspondence between the film's team and the Motion Picture Association of America shows the extent of which aspects of All that Heaven Allows were picked over.

Contrary to what you might expect, Elsaesser actually argues that (at times) restraints on what directors could talk about or cover actually allowed for more sophisticated melodramas. Directors began to explore a "conscious use of style-as-meaning" (pg. 175), which was a distinct improvement.

After All that Heaven Allow's release, the film was adapted two more times- once in 1974 by German director Rainer Werner Fassbinder, and again in 2002 by Todd Haynes.

Posters for Ali: Fear Eats the Soul and Far From Heaven

Fassbinder's adaption, Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, increases the age gap between the characters and changes several other factors. By having Emmi, a 60 year old German woman, fall in love with a much younger Moroccan migrant worker, Ali, Fassbinder is able to ruminate on differences such as race and immigration status.

Emmi's friends, co-workers, and neighbors all discriminate against Ali, and disapprove of their relationship.

However, Emmi isn't the most accepting person herself. On the wall of her apartment hangs an entire rack of medals earned by her deceased husband, who was a soldier in the Nazi military.

The presence of these medals constantly looms over the film as a whole. It seems almost inevitable that, since Emmi still supports some Nazi ideals, their relationship is already doomed to last.

Like with the TV, the appearance of one piece of decor and/or mise-en-scène is highly revealing of characters' "emotional and psychological predicaments" (pg. 174).

Similarly to Fassbinder, Haynes' 2002 film Far from Heaven, expands on the melodramatic potential of All that Heaven Allows- this time exploring topics related to sexuality, class, and gender roles.

While working on the movie, Haynes noted that,

"While the look and style of those '50s melodramas are anything but realistic, there's something almost spookily accurate about the emotional truths of those films. They are hyperreal, that's why we call them melodramas. Because they are about the kinds of things that are close to our private, personal lives, like falling out of love with somebody.” 

Melodramas may get a bad rep as "over-the-top" or "unrealistic," but, as a genre, it's more than that. It's fundamentally centered around these inner truths- characters' thoughts, feelings, and experiences.

Melodramatic Potential

It might not be surprising to hear that all three films I've discussed above were either produced by queer directors (Fassbender, Haynes) and/or starred queer actors (Rock Hudson as Ron All that Heaven Allows, although the extent to which he was "out" at the time is complicated).

I think that as almost a sub-genre, queer melodrama (or really any melodrama connected to or about a marginalized group) is particularly strong.

These types of films have something to say. Actors and directors who have already experienced discrimination can tell some of the most powerful stories- they already know what it's like to live through some of these moments, or to exist on the margins. And melodramas are the perfect format- they often comment on or are critical of social, cultural, and political issues.

Thus, it's not a coincidence that the Thai films and shows I'll talk about next also position queerness next to the intersection of class, poverty, and disability.

These works, which take on the "roughness" of life compared to the more smooth, glassy world of most BLs, are uniquely suited to analyzing using this theory.

Moonlight Chicken

Moonlight Chicken has two qualities that make it ideal for looking at it through the lens of melodrama.

According to Elsaesser, in order to create "style-as-meaning," the best melodramas require "a highly self-conscious stylist" (pg. 175).

Compared to other directors in the industry, P'Aof has sometimes been cited as an "auteur" filmmaker, one who has a specific sort of "style, vision, and thematic focus" across his body of work.

I should note that I think some credit is also due here to the show's cinematographer, Rath Roongrueangtantisook, who had a massive impact on the show's lighting. P'Aof and Rath have collaborated on almost all of P'Aofs most well-known works (Ticket to Heaven, Last Twilight, etc), and they really compliment each other in terms of visual style and environmental storytelling.

Based on attention to color that P'Aof has paid in other works where he hasn't collaborated with Rath (such as Bad Buddy), as well as different connections between color and politics (as observed by @telomeke), it's likely that he had specific involvement in and intent behind choosing the color scheme that he did for the series. So I'll mainly move forward with P'Aof's collection of work and vision as the focus, but I'll credit/include Rath whenever possible.

(I should note that although Elsaesser's paper relies on the concept of auteur theory, I'm not always the biggest fan of it. I think often in filmmaking it's more collaborative than that- for instance, P'Aof and Rath could have brainstormed ideas together, and that's where the idea for the color scheme could've come from. It's possible that Rath and/or other people involved in the production could've had a significant impact on some of things discussed below. I think it's important to acknowledge that as well, since determining who did what and if auteur theory fits can be kind of tricky).

Like Sirk, the use of color throughout Moonlight Chicken becomes particularly important. P'Aof extends color not only into the character's outfits and surroundings, but also into lighting- including when the characters step outside the realm of the restaurant. The streets at night are constantly awash in colors of reddish-orange and blue.

In general, directors and filmmakers do pay a lot of attention to aspects of color and mise-en-scène- the set designers in The Next Prince, for instance, subtly alter the color scheme and design of Khanin's bedroom after he returns back home from Emmaly in order to indicate how although he's grown, some parts of his life are still the same.

But I typically find P'Aof's work to be more highly stylized than that of most other BL directors. A few other examples of (similarly) highly stylized Thai queer works include Flat Girls, Gelboys, and Clairebell.

I think another component of Moonlight Chicken- as well as the works listed above- is that they aren't afraid to extensively touch on topics such as poverty, injustice, and disability.

Something that I've noticed about a subset of BLs/GLs (and really various romance shows/films in general) is that they sometimes dilute extreme angst and/or hardship in shows. Conflicts are resolved easier, without the messiness and angstiness of what would happen in real life. In addition, sometimes works choose not to cover certain "messy" topics- instead smoothing things over (i.e. the wealth gap between rich and poor characters, and how that would substantially impact a relationship- rather than just one or two scenes that showcase it).

I don't mean to be too hard on media like this, as I know many people (including me) watch shows as an escape, so a complex breakdown of the systemic issues linked to poverty isn't always a good fit in shows (especially in what's supposed to be a lighthearted romantic drama). Rather, I think what I'm trying to say is that when the main focus of the story is on romance, aspects of the plot that would provide the most melodrama are occasionally toned down (or result a positive outcome, such as the villain apologizing and being forgiven). And since melodramas often have things to say about social, cultural, and political issues, this is an area may get "cut."

On the contrary, I feel like P'Aof isn't afraid to touch on these topics. I think this willingness to embrace serious issues (i.e. homophobia and religion in Ticket to Heaven), speaks to how his dramas always seem to carry with them unique "emotional truths"- they have something to say about intergenerational relationships, economic policy, disability, etc.

For me, this melodramatic potential- which is at the heart of P'Aof's work- translates into everything, including aspects of mise-en-scène. For P'Aof, "color, lighting, and decor...[become] absolutely "fundamental and integral elements in the construction of meaning" (pg. 173).

To return to discussing Moonlight Chicken more in-depth, one example of this idea is the collage of pictures hanging on the back wall of Wen's apartment. Like with the medals in Ali: Fear that Heaven Allows, it looms in the background far before being acknowledged by the main characters. Once you realize that Wen is still hanging onto photos of his ex, conflict between Wen and Jim seems inevitable.

This brings me to one of my favorite shots from the show, and possibly one of my favorite reveals of all time.

In episode 5, Li Ming heads into Heart's room to help comfort him after a particularly upsetting argument with his parents.

As Li Ming hugs him, the camera mostly faces the characters' front or side profiles, but then a switch happens. The camera suddenly begins to shoot from behind them, altering the viewers' point-of-view. Now we can see what P'Aof was so careful to have hidden from us- a mound of sticky notes covering the wall of Heart's room.

They're notes from his parents, who refuse to learn sign language. Writing is one of the only ways that he can communicate with them.

There's some other telling aspects of mise-en-scène, too. Against the back wall is a picture of himself as a kid, alone. There's a keyboard that he is either is no longer able to use, or that he might have trouble using.

Attached to the wall is a sign-language poster, and a word cloud filled with words such as "interaction," "language," "body," "people," "social." From looking at this side of his room, it's clear how isolated Heart feels, and how desperately he wants to connect with his parents.

P'Aof was careful not to reveal this part of Heart's room until after this particular moment- he wanted to underscore the severity of the divide between Heart and his parents. If it wasn't clear earlier, it becomes clear now that the conflict between them can't easily be solved.

In this scene, the only warm light comes from Li Ming's corner. In the mirror shot, it's revealed that the light forms a line that connects to Heart's head, visually representing the relationship between the both of them.

On top of that, Rath and P'Aof switch from a more balanced color palette to one drenched in shades of blue.

Rath is really fantastic at things like this- as @respectthepetty notes, he often uses lighting to hint at the emotional atmosphere of the scene, rather than just the characters' wardrobe. This is something that's characteristic of his work- you can see more examples of this in non-P'Aof productions here.

This use of color extends into the argument scene. Heart's mother's face is constantly shaded in darkness, as blue turns into black. One of the only light sources in the room comes from the staircase- Heart's only method of escape.

There's a lot more to say about lighting and framing in this scene- @telomeke notes that by using isolated close-ups of Heart and his parents, P'Aof almost makes it feel like they're talking into the void.

When we finally get a wide shot, it reveals that there's a blue accent wall next to the staircase, which stands in direct contrast to the white colors of the kitchen. By positioning Heart's parents on one half of the divide (and/or only slightly past it), P'Aof emphasizes the separation between all of the family members.

Something else of note is how in episode 1, when we visited Heart's family's house for the second time, the environment was lit completely differently. It still has a blue tinge, which speaks to Heart's feelings of sadness, but the color isn't quite as intense. There's a gloominess, a seriousness to this conversation that's reflected in the lighting- the atmosphere in the room feels depressing.

There's a lot of ways to interpret this color change. First, it allows the viewers to possibly come to conclusions about Heart- that because he isn't able to speak up and because he's sitting next to his parents (thus seeming like a unit), he agrees with their views and is similarly mean. These expectations are subverted when we learn more about Heart and his family's situation.

Second, when Li Ming visits the house for the first time, we return back to the blue/yellow color scheme. Throughout the show, one of the core themes is opposites- characters like Jim and Wen as well as Jim and Li Ming are positioned as direct opposites from each other (@respectthepetty). Thus, contrasting colors like blue and yellow/orange often stand in for or represent different characters.

When Li Ming first enters the house and tries to drop off the delivery at night, these blue/yellow colors are prominent. In the morning, they're suppressed by Heart's parents. Night is a freeing time for so many of the characters in the series- Heart and Li Ming, for instance, are only able to venture out on the motorcycle to explore at night.

In the morning during the argument scene, Jim is the only "warmth" in the room- the only one wearing a brightly colored shirt. Jim attempts to support Li Ming's side of the story, but ultimately fails to exonerate him since there's no evidence. The power imbalance between Jim and Heart's family means that Li Ming will never be able to "win"- he'll always have to give into their demands. This overbearing, oppressive feeling strips the room of almost any warmth.

In contrast, at night (and while the parents aren't home), Heart and Li Ming feel more free- they're more able to show aspects of their personality and be themselves.

Lastly, one could argue that this difference in lighting indicates how the show's domestic conflict hasn't quite reached its peak. There's a growing feeling of tension, as well as a sense of distance between the characters- almost like a facade of a "perfect family" that Heart's parents are trying to put on. We often get more saturated colors such as blue and yellow during moments of proximity or extreme melodrama (I'll come back to this idea later).

In comparison to Heart's house, Jim's house is more brightly lit and warm. It has less of an oppressive, overbearing feel. The blue/yellow colors here (as well as framing), are used to represent the "oppositeness" of the characters, as well as the divide between them.

So much could be said about color in P'Aof's and Rath's work(s)- enough for another extensive post- but I wanted to point this out because these examples are somewhat similar to how Sirk utilizes color in his films.

During the television scene in All that Heaven Allows, Sirk brings back the color red to indicate themes of conflict and desire. For both directors, color takes on additional social-political meaning within the context of the story- @telomeke touches on how the yellow/red colors in Moonlight Chicken can be connected to the ideology of different political parties, as well as issues related to class.

In addition, you might notice that Sirk plays with lighting a little; twisting the color of Cary's reflection in the tv screen. The golden glow of the family gathering fades when she studies herself in the reflection, which is such a beautiful detail.

Haynes once observed that,

"What’s beautiful about Sirk['s work] is that every frame is a complementary palette. Every single scene, regardless if it’s happy or sad, plays with an interaction of warm and cool colors. It’s so powerful."

Similarly, aside from conflict-driven scenes, P'Aof consistently embraces a warm-cool color palette. Like with Sirk, this allows the feeling of melodrama to linger within the visual language of the work itself- a constant reminder of how everything within the series is bittersweet. Just as the color scheme of the series is in flux, so too is its "emotional temperature" (pg. 181).

Aside from color, another similarity between All that Heaven Allows and Moonlight Chicken the "revelatory" nature of certain scenes. Like the television scene, the sticky-note scene is a revelatory moment that allows us to gain more insight into the characters' minds (and thus imagine what Li Ming and Heart might be thinking and feeling).

The notes on the wall also translate character into action, as they're both the explanation and the impetus for what Heart has done (and what he might do next). In this way, objects are given additional, more complex meanings.

This is one of P'Aof's strengths as a director. @waitmyturtles observes that P'Aof has "a genius of showing many facets to the same [person]...he [often] critically shies away from singular or dualistic interpretations of his dear characters." So many moments throughout Moonlight Chicken are key examples of this- they prompt different reevaluations of the same characters.

For instance, the presence of the keyboard in Heart's room raises questions- why does he have it? Is he hanging onto something that he already had before he became deaf? (I can relate, as although I'm not deaf, I too hold onto things that I used to be able to use pre-disability lol.) Was music previously one of his passions, making dealing with aspects of disability even more challenging?

Or is it more likely that he acquired it more recently? During episode 4, when Heart and Li Ming visited the church, a piano player was present. Is it possible that Heart bought the keyboard after the visit, in order to see if he could similarly sense/feel the vibrations produced by playing music- this time experimenting on his own?

Or did P'Aof intend it as more of a callback/reference to the visit itself (and the impact that it, as well as his relationship with Li Ming, has had on him)?

Since the keyboard isn't revealed until episode 5, any of these interpretations are possible. Such an object refuses only one specific perspective.

Before I move on to covering some of P'Aof's other works, one last thing of note is how the sticky note scene happens towards the end of episode 5. At the beginning of the episode, we spent some time with Wen, exploring his past relationship as well as re-living moments where he put photos of him and his ex up on the wall.

By bookending the episode between these two scenes, P'Aof is also drawing parallels between Wen and Heart, and the way they feel stuck in both relationships. It's a clever use of storytelling that, on top of all of these smaller details, makes me love this episode even more.

P'Aof and the Family Melodrama

Less so with A Tale of Thousand Stars, but more so with Bad Buddy, Last Twilight, and Ticket to Heaven, a recurring theme in P'Aof's work has been conflict within families.

Elsaesser writes that the family melodrama:

"more often records the failure of the protagonist to act in a way that could shape events and influence the emotional environment, let alone change the stifling social milieu. The world is closed, and the characters are acted upon. Melodrama confers on them a negative identity through suffering... (pg. 177)

Characters like Jim and Heart are shaped by their experiences with disability and poverty. The systemic nature of so many problems discussed in the show, such the impact of economic policies on restaurant owners (see @waitmyturtles' amazing post for more details), means that the main characters will "fail" to fully solve these issues.

In addition, Elsaesser observes that, in the domestic melodrama,

"the social pressures are such, the frame of respectability so sharply defined that the range of 'strong' actions is limited. The tellingly impotent gesture, the social gaffe, the hysterical outburst replaces any more directly liberating or self-annihilating action... The dramatic configuration, the pattern of the plot, makes [the characters]...constantly look inwards, at themselves and others...In Sirk, of course, they are locked into a universe of real and metaphoric mirrors" (pg. 177)

We can see these patterns play out in P'Aof's work, as well. In Last Twilight and Moonlight Chicken, the characters are so boxed-in and restricted that even leaving the house becomes an act of resistance. (Note how, post-argument, Heart runs back up to his room instead of exiting the house/going out the front door).

The face-to-face confrontations in Moonlight Chicken evoke introspection- when is it time to move on? Can generational differences and/or differences in wealth stand in the way of a relationship? Are Jim and Wen fundamentally "too different" to be together?

Aside from the sticky note scene, mirrors also surface in episode two of Ticket to Heaven during a moment where the main character, Tanrak, feels stuck and detached from the rest of his community. As much as mirrors are revealing in P'Aof's work, they can also feel endlessly restrictive.

This mirror scene also fits in with what Elsaesser calls the "intensified symbolism of everyday actions" (pg. 178). This is where the significance of an ordinary gesture, such as Jim and Li Ming both tickling their partners' chin (observed by @telomeke), becomes heightened (thus signifying the similarities between both of them in an intergenerational gesture).

In addition, aspects of a melodrama's setting and decor help reveal characters' emotional and psychological turmoil, as I've touched on earlier.

As much as Moonlight Chicken really maps onto the way Elsaesser conceptualizes the category of a melodrama, there's one interesting way it does not.

Some directors, such as Fassbinder, embrace plots which have almost circular endings and/or pattern(s). For instance, at the end of Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, we discover that Ali has been sent to the hospital. The doctor diagnoses him with a stomach ulcer, which he notes is common among foreign workers due to the high levels of stress that they experience.

The ulcer can be removed, but because Ali must continue working (both him and Emmi are working class- not rich by any means), it seems inevitable that the ulcer will return, and Ali will have to go through the same thing over and over again.

If not cyclical, sometimes melodramas have neutral or slightly negative endings, mimicking the reality of life.

P'Aof's works, on the other hand, pretty much always have happy endings where the characters end up together. Aside from embracing aspects of queer joy/perseverance, this is one way that his series borrow from the anti-melodramatic format of some BLs.

Curiously, though, one could also observe that the predicament P'Aof in is very similar to Sirk's.

In the past, Sirk talked about being constrained by the Hays Code and the studio system, noting that:

“At least I was allowed to work on the material—so that I restructured to some extent some of the rather impossible scripts of the films I had to direct. Of course, I had to go by the rules, avoid experiments, stick to family fare, have ‘happy endings,’ and so on. Universal didn’t interfere with either my camera work or my cutting—which meant a lot to me.”

One could argue that, to a certain extent, GMMTV works and BLs/GLs are also limited by the need for a happy ending. Series require funding, so it's more ideal for the company if the characters end up together. Thus, Moonlight Chicken ends optimistically, even if a slightly different ending might've been more "realistic."

However, film scholar Laura Mulvey also observes that, although "All That Heaven Allows...[has] a happy ending, its 'happiness' is twisted with more than a touch of Sirkian irony."

Somewhat similarly, throughout his works P'Aof sometimes avoids a truly "perfect" ending. For instance, Jim still perseveres by starting a food truck business, but he loses his restaurant. In the final episode of many of his shows, his characters often initially don't get everything they want.

I think Moonlight Chicken, as well as other works such as Gelboys and Clairebell, are so fascinating for this reason- they straddle different genres, conventions, and expectations. In some ways, Moonlight Chicken has more in common to 50s melodramas such as All that Heaven Allows than it does to shows like My Love Mix-Up!, which is kind of crazy to think about.

Before I end the post, there's one more observation about melodramas that I think might be interesting to bring up.

For Haynes,

"the most amazing melodramas are the ones where when a person makes a tiny step toward fulfilling a desire that their social role is built to discourage, they end up hurting everybody else. It’s like a chess game of pain, a ricochet effect where everybody gets hurt but there’s nobody to blame.”

In P'Aof's works, these bullets frequently ricochet, impacting everyone- Heart receiving a minor injury after leaving the house becomes a slight against his parents for "not asking for permission," Tanrak accidentally being locked outside with Barth becomes inexcusable for "not calling for help" and "not following the rules." A minor act of rebellion unintentionally hurts everyone around them, as "family members" (parents, church leaders) are filled with stress and concern.

In these types of melodramas, the smallest actions and the tiniest objects- sticky notes, pressed flowers, a keyboard, a bag of roti- become stand-ins for larger, more all-consuming problems.

If, as Sirk, Fassbender, and Haynes all note, “You can’t make films about things, you can only make films with things," then objects have the potential to become deeply revealing elements of a story.

End Notes

Thanks for reading! This post was super film-theory driven, so it was kind of fun to write- it was nice to revisit stuff that I learned a while ago when I was in uni.

Hopefully I explained Elsaesser's ideas well- I tried to make them as easy to understand as possible, but since I don't have a proofreader I have no one to cross-check that with lol.

Elsaesser is really coming at this from an American '50s and '60s media perspective, but I thought that his ideas were unexpectedly a good fit for P'Aof's works- it maps onto them super well. Because I'm extending his theory a bit not everything might fit/be applicable (he's thinking mostly about Western media), but I thought that it might be interesting to try since cross-cultural connections have happened.

In addition, there's an interesting connection between lakorns and the idea of melodrama. The Drama Wiki notes lakorns' similarities to Hispanic telenovelas in that they prioritize emotional involvement over "following the story rationally." I feel like some of these older American melodramas are the same in that emotions become a key component (almost the purpose) of the story. This is another reason why I feel like it might be applicable to extend Elsaesser's theory, as P'Aof is probably familiar with different elements/structural patterns of lakorns and lakorn-series hybrids.