Some well-traveled friends ecstatically proclaimed Thailand as the most exotic place they've ever visited, and I can't dispute that from the beautifully photographed Thai films I've seen. Too few of them at this point, and all had involved martial arts until I finally saw Itthisoontorn Vichailak's The Overture (Hom rong) from a Netflix DVD rental. Even this film retained elements common to the martial arts melodramas—spiritual connections to an art and extreme competition between foes.

The story is a fictionalized account VERY loosely based on Thailand's master musician Luang Pradit Phairao (1881-1954), legendary for his genius on the classical ranad—a traditional Thai wooden xylophone. Gifted musicians in this world compete with each other as obsessively as Salieri does in Amadeus and with as much fervor as you'll find in any boxing match. When prideful young protagonist Sorn ( Anuchit Saphanphong) journeys to Bangkok only to be confronted with the supreme artistry of the country's top ranad master, he retreats and contemplates giving up music because he's overwhelmed. Unless he can unlock the secret to his rival's technique, he feels his musical pursuits would be worthless.

It's all or nothing with these musicians. Another character even takes his life after an injury prevents him from being able to play his beloved instrument. Vichailak does capture glimpses of the creative and spiritual connection to musicianship—most notably during a meditative sequence where young Sorn gains insight from gently waving palm trees. This is not the only time that nature inspires the young musician. Vichailak also inserts a sweet but rather cliché butterfly reference to bookend the film.

The film journeys back and forth from WWII years during the Cultural Revolution when the king of Siam banned many traditions in favor of becoming more westernized to the late 1800s. Thus, Sorn becomes a central figure as the film flip flops between the young man as he makes his mark as a master musician to the elderly dying Sorn (Adul Dulyarat), steadfastly defying the idiotic laws designed to suppress Thai culture. Pressured to produce a young rebel music student, who has defied a police order, the old man instead plays an emotional farewell concert that touches the villagers and even some of the cold-hearted police officers.

Although the musical contest sequences highlight the plot and display incredible virtuosity, they feel familiar and fail to reach the heart as much as Dulyarat's nuanced performance. Dignified and quietly sincere, he communicates the painful loss of Thailand's cultural heritage and the relationships the legendary musician has developed over the years. Young Saphanphong effectively conveys sincerity, determination, and musical reverence, but he's not asked to reveal the same complexity as the old man.