SINdie

After a short disappearance, the Singapore International Film Festival (SGIFF) is back with a big bang. With international stars like Zhang Ziyi, Juliette Binoche and director John Woo just a metre away from you in the Lido foyer, this year's festival promises to dazzle and steal your attention.

As a nod to Singapore films, a Singapore film opened the festival yesterday. Ken Kwek's 'Unlucky Plaza' was the opening film at Lido Shaw cinemas and his cast was out in full force (see picture above) for the premiere. Ken is no newcomer to the scene, having made Sex.Violence.FamilyValues, which become a talking point in Singapore due to its ban in 2012.

Here's more from the red carpet and the festival going crowd.

Zhang Ziyi arrives in red (carpet red?)

Juliette Binoche arrives in blue (like a nod to the movie 'Bleu' (part of 'Three Colours') she starred in)

John Woo and the Woo clan (daughter and wife)

Here's our little 'Watch Local!'photo initiative at the opening of the SGIFF. Watch out for more throughout the festival.

The festival chose an auspicious date for the opening. Two of our local film directors celebrated their birthdays yesterday at the opening. Wee Li Lin (left) and Boo Junfeng (right) Happy Birthday both!

Last night, the Singapore International Film Festival opened with two sold-out screenings of Ken Kwek’s debut feature Unlucky Plaza, a movie that sticks a cherry bomb in any notion that our fledgling Singaporean cinematic landscape has remained flatly one-note. Last year, Anthony Chen’s debut feature Ilo Ilo announced his deft hand at the patient humanism and meticulous detail of an Edward Yang or Ang Lee. With Unlucky Plaza, Kwek unveils his wholly different aspirations toward the dynamic frames, pop stylings, overlapping timelines, allusive pastiche, tense standoffs and irreverent humour of a Quentin Tarantino.

Of course, Kwek has yet to attain a level of cinematic mastery that compares to Tarantino’s early works, or to the other classic movies from which Unlucky Plaza derives its scenarios. Nonetheless, Kwek’s fits of amateurishness in this film are matched by an ambitiousness and vigour that deserves praise, and that bodes well for his filmography to come.

Characters in Trouble
Unlucky Plaza gains its name not only from Lucky Plaza, the shopping mall in which its protagonist Onassis (Epy Quizon) runs a failing restaurant, but also from its converging cast of characters in trouble. These troubles culminate in the extended hostage situation that we glimpse in the movie’s opening minutes, and we are in for some real fireworks when we finally reach that point.

Too bad that it takes us a while to get there. For a good hour or so, the movie bogs itself down in a clumsy setup that is peppered with badly written exposition, including such choice dialogue as “It’s been five months since you lost the baby.” Thank goodness Kwek has a gift for editing and camera movement that keeps things lively even as he belabours the backstory, such as when he cedes to Onassis an overlong but wittily filmed monologue for a meat cleaver.

The movie’s protracted first half is salvaged mainly by the character of adulterous pastor Tong Wen (Shane Mardjuki), who is divided constantly between his lust and guilt, and between his meekness and attempts at self-assertion. These contradictions in Tong Wen’s character elevate two of his scenes as standouts in this movie’s first half. (By coincidence or design, both scenes are filmed from outside the same car, looking in.) In the first scene, Tong Wen stammers his way through an attempt to end his affair with a married woman. In the second, he tries to appease a swindled Onassis. In both cases, Mardjuki proves to be a formidable comic wizard, playing up the misplaced formalities in Tong Wen’s panicked apologies. Likewise, Kwek shows a remarkable patience in these scenes, rooting his camera in place to mine the comedy from his characters momentarily leaving the frame.

But Unlucky Plaza offers its juiciest moments when Kwek finally shoves his characters up against each other. The movie’s pivotal sequence revolves around a hilarious clusterf*** as each character’s storylines leads them to the same house on 97 Stevens Rd. However, audiences must prepare themselves for the sequence’s dark humour, for our ability to laugh at its absurd pile-up of events, or the sequence falls flat.

If only Kwek could sustain the energy of this centerpiece throughout the rest of the movie—but how could he? Tarantino knows in Reservoir Dogs or Jackie Brown to wrap up quickly after such a doozy. By contrast, Kwek further tries his hand at the hostage drama of Sidney Lumet’s Dog Day Afternoon, but he doesn’t yet have Lumet’s iron-grip discipline in keeping entirely to his hostage-taker’s headspace, in wresting the humanity out of his characters, and in milking the politics of such a situation without overextending himself.

Conclusion
Many of these criticisms can sound like reasons not to savour Unlucky Plaza. It scuttles its Fargo-inspired claims to being “based on true events” by uneven tonal shifts, an unrealistic ending, and a meta-framing device that is too clever by half. It drops its focus on its most compelling characters, and fails to develop others. It derives itself from better movies, but the derivativeness does not always flatter. (Things like these make a viewer appreciate even more Anthony Chen’s economical but watertight construction of Ilo Ilo.)

But name me another Singaporean movie that wears its ambitions on its sleeve, that even bothers reaching out for the grab-bag of cinematic pleasures that Unlucky Plaza strives for. Or name me another mainstream thriller in recent years that even attempts the tonal precision that dark humour demands. In these ways, Unlucky Plaza expands our conceptions of what our local cinema can venture, and even achieve. It’s worth the trouble.

(Review by Colin Low)

Brillante Mendoza

While the West has been well-acquainted with cinema of East Asia, Chinese, Hong Kong, Korean and Japanese films, Southeast Asian cinema remains exotic on the film palette, with many film watchers going for a peek into the country’s culture and psyche as much as going for the sake of watching a good piece of cinema. Thanks to the likes of Apichatpong Weerasethakul, who won the Palme D’or, Anthony Chen who won the Camera D’or and other award sweeps by filmmakers from the Southeast Asian region, people are speculating about the possibility of a cinematic ‘new wave’ from this part of the world.

This is probably the starting point of Leonardo Cinieri Lombroso’s investigative journey into the films of Southeast Asia and possibly the greater social psyche that have shaped these films. Leonardo has cleanly defined the boundaries of his documentary by choosing to focus on only 1 filmmaker from each of the four countries he considers to have left sizeable footprints in the film festival circuit. As a result the world in each of the four countries is defined through the sometimes coloured lenses of the chosen filmmaker’s eyes.

Brillante Mendoza offers his raw, gritty glare at social tension in the Philippines. Pen-Ek Ratanaruang, minus his earlier more earthy, localized films like ‘Monrak Transistor’ or ‘Fun Bar Karaoke’, offers a more esoteric and isolated view of Thailand in his post-‘Last Life of the Universe’ filmography. Eric Khoo offers his all-too-familiar fascination with underdog and the underbelly of society from ‘Mee Pok Man’ to ‘My Magic’. Lastly Garin Nugroho, despite defined by his strong ‘installation-art’ in his works like ‘Opera Jawa’, explains the political undertones in his works beneath all the ‘wayang’.

Almost like a glimpse into the ‘workshops’ of the Southeast Asian award winning works, the filmmakers share about their respective environments that shape them and how they go about capturing the essence of their societies. Among the 4 filmmakers, Singapore stands in stark contrast to the visual potpourri that is the other 3 cities, mainly due to landscape, captured on screen, that looks regimented and barren. This is largely attributable to Leonardo’s multiple shots of tightly arranged HDB flats, some even with Eric Khoo walking through them. A sense of order and quietness pervades the scenes and even Eric Khoo himself sits in an abandoned coffeeshop telling us about his fascination with HDB flats that germinated the idea behind ’12 Storeys’. On deeper thought, this seemed like the Singapore ’12 Storeys’ inhabited, a little lost in time, maybe 10 years behind.

Eric Khoo

Of course, Leonardo explained during the Q&A that his film was essentially offering a set of 4 windows into 4 societies, through 4 individuals, and may not represent the greater filmmaking attitudes and perspectives of the communities at large. This also brings to light the fact that making a documentary like this essentially faces the problem of coverage. The subject matter perhaps warrants a 4 part series that would do enough justice what each country has to offer.

Back to the HDB shots in Singapore. These almost ‘homage-style’ shots by Leonardo, often blurred the lines between footages from the filmmakers’ actual films and the documentary itself. Even in the other cities, establishing shots of the bustling streets or rustic kampongs blend seamlessly into the actual dramatic footages from the films. Leonardo also displayed a strong meticulous hand in editing from the way he transitions between ‘fiction’ and fact and between countries. Undeniably, this act of mimicry lifts this documentary above the arms-length style of most TV documentaries and reflects the respect the filmmaker has for his subjects. Bringing back an earlier question, can we see a Southeast Asian new wave from the documentary? Ironically I think not, though it demonstrates that within each country, there are people who see stories that others can’t and want to share these with the rest of the world.

Review by Jeremy Sing
#sgiff2014

As the film opens, beautifully shot landscapes roll into view – we see a girl, standing only in her undergarments contemplatively towelling dry her just washed hair – the backdrop is strikingly bare. We hear the sound of a driving car, then a loud crash. Enhanced by beautiful cinematic shots, it is immediately captivating.

With such an almost poetic opening scene, my senses and expectation for the film is peaked. I felt that the adult actors – especially Kit Chan and Xiang Yun – were very effective throughout the film. Kit Chan plays a mother, sharing a flat with Xiang Yun – both single parents trying to make a working and decent living while bringing up their respective daughter and son. The relationship between the two women form the emotional backbone of the film which is used very effectively until the final frame - it anchors the storyline as past and present events are revealed.

Bobby Tonelli plays a conscientious DJ who acts as an effective foil to the more psychological aspects of the storyline. This is especially on the sudden appearance of an anonymous caller with a rather twisted hidden agenda. I felt that the characterisations of the DJ, radio producer and station manager could have been much further developed.

I certainly enjoyed the high production values of the movie which featured beautiful close-ups and interesting cinematic angles. It certainly elevated and provided a very professional polish to the experience.

There was also directional clarity as the three interspersed narratives eventually merged to provide a strong intersectional climax point.

With so much going for the film, I found myself very much rooting for its success. Unfortunately I did however get distracted by a number of elements that could have perhaps been tightened. Firstly, the film looked to try to bridge art house and psychological thriller – at times it was very successful with wide dramatic scenes that interrupted moments of suspense, however at times it felt that the psychological pace was slowed down as a compromise, diluting some of the built tension. I also felt that the story raised a number of questions which were left unanswered – these included Ms J’s life story that led to her having a daughter as well as the resolution for the anonymous caller.

I am certainly very heartened to see a local film take on complex forms with non-conventional twists and adult themes. That taken together with high production values certainly makes this film worth a trip to the cinema. I certainly hope to see this film garner deserved exposure while eagerly anticipating Jason Lai's next project.

Review by Ivan Choong
#sgiff2014

Banting tells the story of a teenage girl who desires to break conservative barriers in pursuit of her unconventional passion in wrestling.

Yasmin, played by Izyan Mellyna Ishak, knows that there are two choices she has to make: fight or flight. Indeed, she chooses to fight through the battles – keeping this conquest a secret at home and at work – and comes out as a winner proving the old time saying 'when there's a will, there's a way'.

Even though her “way” can be dare-devilish, Yasmin later became instantly famous when her power move was leaked on social media. This further propelled her will of becoming a professional wrestler in spite of her 'headscarf and modesty' issues.

Her night-time wrestling journey uncovers her inner perseverance, tenacity and determination to be included in an all-female troupe under the guidance of a tough has-been coach, Harry (Jimmy Taenaka).

Her efforts as “Zarith Blade” pays off when she was offered a professional wrestling gig overseas. Her disapproving mother supports her towards the end and even begin to take lessons from her. This mother-daughter acceptance is definitely one of the beautiful and tender parts of the film.

There was this epiphanic moment when a wrestler accidentally removed Yasmin's head gear and revealed her long dark hair in slow motion which seems contradicting. It is a shock factor but does little to swing the motion in Yasmin's favor.

The plot does seem plain but manages to counter with larger-than-life characters like Queen Kong, The Sisters, Pretty Baby and Killer Bride that add much needed laughable moments to Yasmin's state of tension with her family and best friend.

Overall, this debut film is a comedy treat that is enough to entertain, invoke and make audience leave with a feel-good sensation.

Review by Haswani

Contrary to what its R21 rating and director Ryūichi Hiroki's acclaim in the "pinku" genre of filmmaking might suggest, Kabukicho Love Hotel (2014) is much more concerned with feeling than flesh. The film follows, for a full day and a night, a group of largely working-class individuals whose lives intersect around a modest love hotel in Shinjuku, Tokyo’s eponymous red-light district.

Toru is the reluctant employee unlucky enough to encounter, in a wild coincidence, both his girlfriend Saya (an aspiring musician trying to secure a recording contract) and his sister Miyu (who is acting in porn films for income) at his workplace. Interconnected plotlines reveal the stories of Satomi, a nondescript cleaning lady and her fugitive husband Yasuo, both wanted criminals on whose case the statute of limitations will very soon expire; two cops engaged in an extramarital affair; a Korean escort, Mena, and her chef boyfriend, Chong-su, who are keeping secrets from each other; and the unlikely kinship between Hinako, an innocent runaway teenager and Masaya, the gangster who is meant to recruit her into prostitution.

Belying their pedigree as high-profile celebrities (the cast includes Atsuko Maeda from Japanese idol girl group AKB48 and Son Il-kwon from Korean boyband 5tion) the ensemble cast members deliver measured, naturalistic performances and thus creditably manage to share screen time without overshadowing each other in a crowded and occasionally uneven narrative.

Especially compelling is Lee Eun-woo as Mena, an escort soon due to return home to Korea, where she will use her earnings to open a boutique with her mother. Where Toru, brooding, restless and dissatisfied with his job, wears his heart on his tracksuit uniform’s baggy sleeves, Mena, known to her clients as “Ilia”, is ever cheerful, hardworking and thoughtful. She sees clients right up till her departure, gets her colleagues to pinky-promise that they’ll visit her in Korea, and delivers thoughtful gifts (a bowtie for Toru, because he’ll need one for the fancy hotel job he dreams of) to the familiar faces she soon has to bid farewell to. All the while, she is also working hard to keep from her boyfriend Chong-su, an aspiring restaurant owner, the realities of her job and the depth of her sorrow at leaving him. In a scene telling of this film’s priorities, in their sensual bathtub encounter, their nudity seems almost incidental to their emotional nakedness; the intimacy peaks not with physical climax but with their mutual confessions.

Not each storyline is equally believable and well-resolved; the tension between siblings Toru and Miya is underexplored, while gangster Masaya's change of heart seems almost too good to be true. Director Hiroki also attempts to work broader issues into his film, making reference to anti-Korean sentiment, the continuing after effects of the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami, but only at a superficial level. Only one such moment leaves a truly sobering impact: when an older "streetwalker" that Toru harshly dismisses is later stabbed in an altercation with a customer. But at more than two hours in length, the film has room to present the ennui and minutiae behind the scenes at the hotel: the lazy employee's antics in the break room, the pizzas to be delivered to the porn film crew, the condoms ("candies") that are the housekeeping staff's final flourish. The film's true strength lies in offering up moments of intimacy infused with warmth and humour, and reminding us of the rich inner lives of the most unassuming of individuals.

Ultimately, Kabukicho Love Hotel is a feel-good film that, as it ends, generously allows all its main characters hopeful, if tentative beginnings. The film closes as it began, with Saya plucking at her guitar, singing plaintive lines about heartbreak, as a new day’s light filters into her apartment. Quite as she was at the film’s start, she is again alone, but now a little wiser; she still has her music. Siblings Toru (notably, sans any baggage) and Miyu are headed home, unknown to each other, on the same bus out of the city. Mena and Chong-su, holding hands, talk of marriage, while Hinako and Masaya share a heaping mountain of nuggets in a diner. As the credits roll, Satomi and Yasuo heave a sigh of relief after counting down to their freedom. Together or alone, as the sun rises over Tokyo once more, Kabukicho Love Hotel’s characters are headed towards home, which is simply wherever it is their hearts lie—at least for now.

Review by Aditi Shiva Image credits

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED:

The Longest Distance Relationship (dir. Lee Sin Yee): In this crowd-pleasing documentary, four Singaporean filmmakers (one Taoist, one Buddhist, one Christian, one atheist) explore the quirks of each other’s religious beliefs. The filmmakers have a canny instinct for sussing out what’s funniest about their footage. This includes a temple trip that sees a joss-stick selling auntie, her friend, and the resident monk all taking turns to puzzle out the theological significance of a Confucius statue. Or one of their mothers’ dwindling discomfort with letting her children eat beef noodles. But they also dwell willingly on more fraught parts of our mutual co-existence, like when one of them admits her struggle with her genuine belief that her friends are headed to hell. It’s a frank and vital piece of work that deserves more attention and applause.

OTHER REVIEWS:

Wedding Portrait (dir. Royston Tan): A middle-aged woman takes her elderly father to an old Malaysian photo studio to recreate his wedding portrait. The characters are a bit too undetailed (and their pursed lips too withholding) to give us much to work with, but props to the film for trying to parlay the complexity of a long-suffering daughter taking over her mother’s duties into something profound.

Three Little Pigs (dir. Ang Geck Geck): Director Ang Geck Geck pairs up again with her young muse Denise Goh, and as filmgoers we continue to reap the benefits. The pair previously collaborated on Broken Crayon, a tough film on childhood sexual abuse that won Best Fiction at the Singapore Short Film Awards (review | production talk). Three Little Pigs goes further to prove that Denise is as gifted before the cameras as Geck Geck is behind them. As a kindergartener tasked with reciting a story, Denise is asked to turn on her winsome personality, and wear her heart on her sleeve. All the better to love her with, before her onscreen grandma huffs and puffs, and the story blows her dreams down. Meanwhile, Geck Geck proves her utter mastery at knowing when to keep things offscreen, and she knows exactly how to place her camera so that one little story can mean a little girl’s entire world.

3 Seconds (dir. Martin Hong): At this point, we recognise a Martin Hong short film when we see one, because he can never resist injecting his lovelorn fables with a heavy dose of magic-realist quirk. This time, a neglected girlfriend stirs fish food into her boyfriend’s Milo to revive his affections, which ends up less disgusting and more beguiling than a synopsis might make it seem. Here, Martin shows his growing confidence in his audiences by not doling out too much exposition, and just letting the logic of events unfold. But like his other films, he still concerns himself only with characters who have diminished romantic universes. If Martin can bring himself to give his future characters more than just the one motivation, we might get to see his own capacious imagination really fly.

Kan Lume, who both directs and handles the camera for his films, has mastered the art of encounters, and very often awkward encounters. His previous films, from ‘the Art of Flirting’ to ‘Dreams from the Third World’ to ‘Female Games’ are like lab studies of human behaviour and he is often able to grasp the nuances in human motivation and reactions. Before the start of his film ‘Singapore Girl’, he qualified the work by expaining the same appoach used in making all his other films has been used in this film. However, ‘Singapore Girl’ turned out to be quite a notch up in his experiments.

Taking a simple love story and removing some essential joints to it, seemed to be the approach behind the awkward piece of work that was ‘Singapore Girl’. A girl, Chloe, supposed a Singapore Airlines flight attendant gets dumped by her Ang Moh boyfriend and decides to take a holiday in Koh Samui, where she bumps into Leon, a boorish but somewhat adorable man who is besotted by her and tries to squeeze himself into close distance with her. What ensues is a classic game of courtship in which Leon, together the convenient ‘help’ from the script, inches closer to Chloe as the days pass in the remote resort.

The ‘catch’ in this all-too-simple love story is the fact that two characters are speaking in completely different languages to each other, one in English and sometimes Mandarin and the other unabashed Cantonese. That’s not all. The dialogue between the characters has been directed and edited to sound like a language instructional audio recording in which characters spoke in stilted monotones and lines are separated by long deliberate pauses. In fact, the film’s dialogue seems dubbed in post-production with its unnatural sound balance. The result is bizzare and baffling. Think of a hybrid between ‘Before Sunrise’ and ‘Lost in Translation’ but stripped of the spontaneity and surprises. Yes, no surprises in this old-fashioned love –at-first-sight holiday romance. Leon, who tries so hard to get into the sleeves of Chloe, succeeds without any real impediment.

There is also something about the characterisaton of Leon and Chloe that seems to suggest they are just token vessels for the director to make a point about communicating love across a language barrier. Chloe’s identity remains mysterious throughout the entire movie. Other then being defined by her ‘SQ Girl’ uniform, she never really provides enough colour or honesty in her role that offers some emotional authenticity. Perhaps the only other quirk is her ‘Eurasian’ identity because it is being juxtaposed against the loud and daring ‘Cantonese’ identity of Leon. Leon’s personality which offer most of the comic relief in the film, is a tad more full-bodied than Chloe though he too embodies many cliches in the dating game, and the fun in watching him is mostly to guess to when he’s going to win a place on the same bed as Chloe.

All in all, despite a familiar cast, some giggle-worthy moments and the radical one-man-shooting-team set up, one misses the raw energy and unscripted-ness prevalent in many of Kan’s earlier works.

Review by Jeremy Sing

The traditional practice of literally moving a entire house, called Usung Rumah in Malaysia, on the shoulder of a group of men is the visual centrepiece in Malaysian Filmmaker Liew Seng Tat’s latest comedy ‘Men Who Save The World’ or ‘Lelaki Harapan Dunia’. The very act of men manually lifting and moving a house through jungle terrain in the film is rich in its connotations and suggestions. It establishes the community setting and ethos of the village in the way they ‘operate’. The clumsy manner in which the house is being moved is comical, espcially with the ‘Hoo-Hah’ chanting that helps to psyche the spirits of the men. Not forgetting it is the focal point of the story, in which the hosue which was supposed to be a wedding present for a daughter became source of spooky tales.

In a twist of events, a supposedly illegal dark-skinned immigrant from the Solomon Islands, jumps off a truck he probably latched himself on and found his way into the ‘house’ which was half-moved and sitting in the nest of the jungle. It was not before long that the villagers caught random glimpses of ‘activity’ in the house and raised a ghost-sighting alarm. By a sheer coincidence, other events begin to happen like the camel walking out of its pen and one of the village girls falling teriibly ill. This raises the alarm a notch higher and the villagers, portrayed in this film as gullible and conductive in their responses, impulsively string all the events together to support their conclusion that an ‘Orang Minyak’ (a monster known as the ‘Oily Man’ in Malay folklore) is in their midst.

While the film’s dialogue is in ‘fiercely spoken’ Bahasa Melayu with characters rattling on in machine-gun speed, very little of the humour and nuances is lost thanks to the highly accessible script which is situational comedy genius. Much of the humour in the film rests on the ludicrousness of superstitious beliefs in the village, and one might draw a analogy to the recent Bomoh antics at KLIA of summoning the whereabouts of MH370. The actors do often ham it up a little, raising the slapstick quotient, but they fit in snugly with the ongoings of the plot. Apparently, the film features several veteran actors in the Malaysian scene so their individual moments, out of context, are probably treats for their fans as well. Given the village premise of the film, some of the film's jokes rest on stereotypes and even homophobia with the mention of a 'homosexual Orang Minyak' being an obvious punchline in one of the scenes intended to tickle the audience, perhaps the home audience. Sometimes, we are not very clear if its the un-enlightened mind of the director milking humour out of social taboos and stereotypes, or the director taking a light-hearted look the foolish ways of village people, with a subtle extrapolative lesson for the rest of us urbanites as well. I would like to think the latter.

‘Men Who Save The World’ is really a surrendipitously all-inclusive film for so many viewers, surrendipitous because of how it manages to blend so much into such a focussed piece of work. It is in essence a highly accessible comedy whose humour transcends language and culture. Its village lingo speaks volumes to its local audience while it still manages to open up a cultural window to its foreign film festival audience. It is a visual feast that transports us into a real kampung and features an endearing camel as well! Not to forget mentioning the visual spectacle of a burning house amidst a sea of green reminiscent of Andrei Tarkovsky burning house in ‘The Mirror’. A seamless blend of arthouse and commercial cinema – not always a win-all combination for a filmmaker but something many arthouse filmmakers who aim to cross the arthouse-commercial valley would like to achieve.

Review by Jeremy Sing

Host Adrian Pang and Festival Chairman Mike Wiluan strike up a Bromance on stage at the Silver Screen Awards

The 25th Singapore International Film Festival was a certainly the comeback festival everyone's been waiting for. It chalked up impressive numbers in filmgoer attendance at more than 10,000 and screen 147 films, out of which there were 23 sold out screenings. Here are some snapshots from the Silver Screen Awards attended by the Singapore film community and industry as well as international and Asian celebrities like Natassja Kinski, Cheng Pei Pei and Chen Bolin.

ActressNatassja Kinski

Film director Anthony Chen

Taiwanese Actor Chen Bolin and Chinese Actress Huang Lu

Actress Yeo Yann Yann

Jeremy from SINdie steals a shot with SGIFF Executive Director Yuni Hadi (right)

Here are the winning films at the awards:

Best Film (picture above): 'Court' by Chaitanya Tamhane
Best Director: Chaitanya Tamhane
Best Performance: Sekar Sari in 'Siti'
Special Mention: 'Alive' by Park Jung-Bum

Best Southeast Asian Short Film: 'Dahdi' (Granny) by Kirsten Tan

Best Singapore Short Film: 'Not Working Today' by Shijie Tan

Best Director: Aditya Ahmad for 'On Stopping the Rain'

Special Mention: 'Vanishing Horizon of the Sea' by Chulayarnnon Siriphol

Special Honorary Award: Im Kwon Taek

Southeast Film Lab Youth Jury Award: 'May Dinadala' by Giancarlo Abrahan,

Southeast Film Lab Youth Most Promising Project: 'Awit Ng Puntod' by Bradley Liew from Malaysia

mm2 Chief Content Officer Ng Say Yong and Malaysian Filmmaker Tan Chui Mui announce the Southeast Asian Film Awards

Tan Shijie takes home the Best Singapore Short Film award with 'Not Working Today'

Royston Tan announces the Best Southeast Asian Short Film Award which went to Kirsten Tan with 'Dahdi'

Legendary Korean Film director Im Kwon Taek receives the honorary award and the only standing ovation of the night

'Court' a feature film by Chaitanya Tamhane from India wins Best Asian Feature Film

FEATURE REVIEW:

November (dir. Shane Lim): Here’s the story: a teenaged couple fights because the guy has contracted herpes, and must bring his girlfriend to a clinic to get herself checked. This story might not inspire much fascination until you learn that it was based on true events, as director Shane Lim divulged during the film’s Q&A, with his mother in the audience (“Sorry mom!”). This revelation fascinates not because it makes the film into fodder for salacious gossip; rather, it cements how the film was made from an unflinching desire to be frank.

This frankness gives the film the raw edge it needs, as when Shane’s fictional counterpart confesses to his girlfriend that he cheated on her because the other girl’s sexual prowess surpassed hers in certain aspects. (Not that this scene happened in Shane’s real life, necessarily, but it demonstrates a kind of realness that can otherwise go missing in “sexually transmitted disease PSA” films like these.) The rest of the film nestles more in the girlfriend’s headspace as she endures the whole clinical screening process, from waiting room to results. In the process, the film shifts from a verbal frankness to a more visual one, ending with a bold tracking shot that choreographs the couple as each tries to cope with a different, late-breaking revelation.

(Bonus trivia: the clinic in the film was built from scratch. Kudos to the production designer!)

OTHER REVIEWS:

And the Wind Falls (dir. Shuming He): A Latina motel housekeeper stumbles upon a wad of cash, and tussles with whether she should keep it. The film sustains our fears that she will face some crime-drama comeuppance, but those fears dissipate as we realise that the stakes are more generically familial. A perfectly serviceable film, well-directed, that nonetheless hints that its makers could have brought far more to the table.

I Will Die (dir. Edmund Teo): Can we fault a film for attempting no more than to be an inside joke among the director’s friends? This film does offer up some satirical fodder—that movie reviewers are superficially vicious narcisssists, and that elderly male actors are hired only to die on camera—but it doesn’t quite know what to do with it beyond flogging the same old jokes to death. Even the film's blurb Cameos by John Lui (as a “film director”) and Eric Khoo (as a phony who fails to recognise the actor he is praising) round out the film’s wink-wink humour.

The Body (dir. Kenny Gee): Sustained by the novelty of Lim Kay Tong (best known as the patriarch in that old beloved Channel 5 drama serial Growing Up) imitating Harvey Keitel as Winston “The Wolf” from Pulp Fiction for twenty minutes. The character gets a smartly developed arc in which he learns to take no half measures, although he deserves more close-ups and fewer unreadable silences to show him coming around to this decision. Everyone else is a stock character that should have been fleshed out for greater impact, especially his hot-headed co-protagonist mentee, and a nameless sex worker (the “body” of the title) who risks being dehumanised by all the deadpan black humour around her, despite the script’s gradually unveiled ambitions.

(Reviews by Colin Low)

When one mentions or even thinks about Singapore, the first few qualities about her that comes to mind would be the tall man-made buildings, various tourist attractions as well as rigid traffic rules and the infamous ERPs planted all around.

Despite being called the Garden City – are we still called that now? – no one would think about the greenery that actually surrounds this place we call home. After all, construction sites are popping up at every corner and uprooting the greens to make way for more grey, white and new condominiums.

So it was indeed a pleasant surprise to discover that Aaron Wilson’s Canopy was entirely shot in Singapore some time back.

The film is about how war affects an individual’s psyche – the mind-numbing fear, sudden adjustments to new environments as well as situations and the prospect of death at every corner one turns.

It follows the journey of an Australian fighter pilot after he is shot down during World War II and found himself in the Singapore jungle. Meeting obstacles, potential help (a local Chinese farm boy) as well as enemies along the way, viewers are invited to experience Singapore in a very different light.

Personally, I found the film to be captivating and enchanting despite the difficult as well as heartbreaking circumstances. The pacing was of a slow burn rather than a typical action-driven war film, but the tension and constant raising of stakes as the film went along held the action together.

With no subtitles, the film goes back to the focus of body language, facial expressions and relationships to tell the story – transcending culture and language barriers.

Made up of beautifully shot moments, Canopy is a visual feast for those with a keen eye for beauty as well as subtle details. There is a great focus on the surroundings and the composition of nature. Just like the variety of emotions portrayed by the stellar cast, viewers are able to feel the depth and even the curious textures of the greenery as the camera pans from all sorts of angles smoothly.

My favourite quality of this entire film would be the soundscape. Even though the film is mostly quiet in terms of dialogue, it is rich in bringing out the common sounds that we do not know how to appreciate or even notice in this day and age: leaves crunching under foot, hidden birds chirping away, running water and our own footsteps.

Canopy is a perfect example of how simplicity is key in making a strong impression in the minds of viewers. One does not need a lot of special effects and a predictable, sappy storyline to touch hearts. All it really takes is a good story to tell and a dedicated team to make magic happen on screen.

Review by Dawn Teo

Director Sam Loh has cleverly placed equally ample baits for both genders to watch his first feature film Lang Tong. Touted as Singapore’s first commercial R21 movie, it features enough boobs to make guys say ‘yes, this is no lightweight Singaporean attempt at something risqué’. It also features enough female smarts to girls feel winners in the battle of the sexes. At the very best, this film knows just how to press the right buttons for a dirty little adventure. At the very worst, it is simply jogging an old formula, offering a story that’s essentially empty at its core.

Let’s put away our prudish selves for a moment. Lang Tong does execute the gal-revenge-on-womaniser genre competently. The film is an evenly-paced story about a cassanova-like character who does not blink an eye about fleeting from one woman to another for the sake of his own lustful pleasures. Moving from conquest to conquest, he repeats his lies. And yet, the girls keep getting more and more attractive. The final straw came he lands himself two at the same time. While dating Li Ling and co-habiting with her, he discovers very soon that she has a sister Li Er, who is even more of a stunner than her. To avoid spoiling the film here, what ensues is a trapping game in which we know too well the protagonist is going to fall right into. And karma is not one bitch but two.

The director paced the film well and the plot unraveled itself without feeling hasty, giving enough time for the little clues to sink in to the audience. The actors, who were well-casted, delivered their roles satisfactorily, if not, perfunctorily. It might be directorial, but they actors seemed to keep to a standard cookie-cutter palette of expressions most of the time. While it served the plot well, the characters appeared two-dimensional. The womaniser was as badass as you wanted him to be. Somehow the dubbed voice for his characters accentuates his cold-blooded nature. The cheated girls were as vulnerable and distressed as you wanted them to be. The Li sisters were as sure-footed as heroines as you wanted them to be.

The exception to the bland characterization was Li Ling, the older sister of the two. Her character allowed a wider dramatic range from playing the strong modern woman who can wield the chopper like butcher to the sex siren who played along with the womaniser to the vulnerable woman in moments of jealousy or painful recollection. Kudos to actress Vivenne Tseng (picture below) for giving credibility and flesh to the character.

The use of the ‘Bak Kut Teh’ (pork rib soup) motif in the film lends a visual and cultural identity to the film. The womaniser conditions his sex targets over Bak Kut Teh and the conversations about the dish are somewhat suggestive. Interjected at strategic points in the film are also mood-sequences of Li Ling chopping up the pork ribs and preparing the dish at home. However, this borders a little on over-posturing and excessive stylistics in an already narratively-thin film. Cliché as they may be, it is in fact the standard segments in this cheater-gets-revenge that seem more interesting and captivating. On hindsight, there is a lot going on for any movie-goer who wants to be titillated and entertained in Lang Tong. For the parts that are good, they are Bak-kut-tehlicious, for the other parts not so good, the director knows where he needs to put a full stop, just like ending the movie where it should end.

Review by Jeremy Sing

Winning the Japanese Cinema Splash award and the FIPRESCI Prize, this film by director Ayumi Sakamoto caught the attention at the Tokyo and Berlin International Film Festivals. Finally, Forma had a sold out screening at the National Museum of Singapore as part of the Singapore International Film Festival 2014 and SINdie is glad to be part of the experience.

Forma illustrates a complicated friendship between former classmates Ayako and Yukari. As their past keeps unraveling throughout the film, after Ayako offers Yukari a job with better prospects, the pair will finally confront each other about the skeleton in the cupboard in a 24-minutes static shot that reveals and horrifies as much as it will break viewers’ hearts.

The one quality that really made this film stand out would be how intricately weaved the entire plot is. Even though it may sound simple and straightforward enough, the synopsis is unable to do justice to the nuances and moments captured on the film.

It keeps one paying attention to every single action, dialogue and scene just to keep up with the increasing tension and understand the dynamics between the various characters.

Even though the film goes at an extremely slow pace with minimal distractions and relies heavily on heavy dialogue and static long takes, the carefully crafted storyline and simple yet impactful visuals will keep the viewer’s attention from straying.

Initially, it was slightly uncomfortable to watch since there was very little clues given as to what to expect and it does not follow the conventional structure of a film: introduction, trouble starts brewing, climax and a resolution. But the unconventional nature of it is precisely what makes this film worth watching and when the climax finally played out with all questions slowly answered one by one, it was very rewarding.

Review By Teo Dawn

Wang Xiaoshuai commonly groups and hails under the loose collective of filmmakers known as the ‘Sixth Generation’ of the Cinema of China. His films tend to be known for their sensitive portrayal of teens and youths, and films to his credit include Beijing Bicycle (2001), So Close to Paradise (1998), Drifters (2003)and Shanghai Dreams (2005).

Along with the other urban directors of his generation, Xiaoshuai’s films have a realistic documentary style to accompany content that fleshes out a changing and contemporary China. According to Senses of Cinema, the visual style, due partly to budget constraints, are ‘less colourful, […] shot on location, sometimes using non-professional actors.’

Qin Hao, Feng Yuanzheng and Lu Zhong playing Bing (younger son), Mrs Deng and Jun (older son).

Red Amnesia (2014) itself, is a film that transcends its present circumstances by dragging along with it baggage from the past, and is a film that explores guilt and what happens when unresolved conflicts from the past race to catch up with us, when we are most vulnerable, many years after. I am first reminded of the film Atonement(2007), where the protagonist does struggle with facing the immense consequences of a self-serving act decades ago, but it is pared down in pathos in this film. Perhaps this is due to the more conservative show of expression in Asian families, and the fact that the suffering of the Zhao family is never really given attention till the late part of the film. Therefore for the bulk of it, the film is more a psychological thriller in solving the mystery of the recalcitrant prank caller, and trying to link the lives of the Deng family with the rootless teenager, played by actor Shi Liu.

Between our piqued curiosity of solving the mystery of the prank caller, we also see the thinly veiled cracks within the family fabric of the Deng family. Mrs Deng (played by Lu Zhong) is a dedicated grandmother and mother, who scuttles to take on the duties of picking her grandson up from school, making his favourite meatballs, helping out for dinner at her eldest son’s home, and inviting herself to the privacy of her second son’s apartment. In spite of these dedicated gestures however, her children seem to almost balk at her lack of alternative preoccupation, especially after the death of her husband. The actors are extremely invested in offering naturalistic performances, and special mention must be made of the sons (played by Feng Yuanzheng and Qin Hao), who tread a fine line between living out their own lives, yet still fulfilling their responsibility out of compassionate care for their aged mother. Their performances were not overstated and thus believable in many respects.

Mrs Deng catches a glimpse of what seems to be the elusive teenager.

I felt that the heart of the story truly lied in the tension that came along with the introduction of the teenager though. Lawless, without motivation and direction, he introduced an element of unhinged disturbance, that culminated in the slashing apart of family photographs in Mrs Deng’s home. At first, we think this is due to his own rootlessness and lack of respect for other’s boundaries. It is only later when we witness his urges to murder Mrs Deng, and uncover his background story does that act register its full significance.

The cinematography of the film featured strongly on pensive closeups of the character’s faces, apt for many scenes that strove to convey the inner thoughts of the characters, especially for Mrs Deng; since a lot of what she reflected upon were shameful reminders from a not so glorious personal history. Many a time, the still shots on the facial expression of the vagabond teenager is one of longing. Yet he also manages to maintain an inscrutability to the motivation behind his intrusive break-ins.

This film draws from the deepest recesses of the protagonist’s (Mrs Deng) memory bank, and weighs in the harsh reality of the price she pays for protecting her family, at the expense of another. And in a cruel irony, the film shows us that sometimes in exhibiting the best qualities of love, we unearth the worst parts of ourselves---prompted by self-preservation and survival.

Teenager (Shi Liu) and Mrs Deng (Lu Zhong)

At the end of the film, when the consequences of his actions catches up with him in a tragic way, the audience is still not given satisfaction of a closure. In leading a vagabond existence in the city and living vicariously through owners of the homes he breaks into, he achieves a transient sense of power and control over his own circumstances. Yet, the ending proves its futility and leaves a bitter tinge in our takeaway from the entire situation. Mrs Deng too, does not receive any atonement for her past actions—but at least, the answers she was looking for to the recent disturbances in her domestic life.

Review by Isabella Ow

In the Absence of the Sun opens with the sound of Muslim calls to prayers (salat). It's probably the last prayer of the day and a signal to the start of the night, in which most of the film occurs. The film is really a portrait of the bustling city of Jakarta when night falls and presents a meeting of hearts and minds, of honesty and vulnerability. The original title, Selamat Pagi, Malam (Good morning, Night, in Bahasa Melayu) in fact, seems to sum up what underlying sentiments in the film, and perhaps 'Jakartans', - to embrace the night.

Three stories intersect throughout this melancholic-bittersweet feature, with a nice mix of humor interjected within. It is quite clear from the start to the audience that the primary themes in In the Absence of the Sun are loss and longing. The first story of Gia, an Indonesian born New Yorker, finds herself slightly overaged (in terms of marriageability in the Indonesian society context) and misplaced as she returns to the country she came from. Gia looks a long-time friend up, only to find that the latter has adjusted comfortably in this city they now both reside in. Despite the obvious gap between them that has grown since they last met, the duo bond over roadside stall noodles, laughing at the chichi practices of high society Jakarta. Though the inner conflict of identities in each of the girls, director Lucky Kuswandi seems to paint a analagous picture of a city in transition and transformation, creating a thoughtful link between people and space.

In the next plotline, Mrs Surya who has been recently widowed, discovers that her late husband had been cheating on her with a lounge singer. Seeking answers and solace, she visits the nightclub where the mistress works to understand the betrayal and cope with her grief. Comic relief ensues with the introduction of a drag queen, who lets Mrs Surya on about her late husband’s mistress’s own troubles. Later on, she also takes a leap and hires a gigolo (the mistress’s husband) with money from her late husband’s wallet and leaves her number for the man to call her back with as she slips out in the morning – a final act of vengeance on her dead philandering spouse.

Parallel to these two stories, Irini, an aspirational social climber working as a towel girl in a gym brands herself as a sales girl on an online dating app and encounters a disappointing date with a wealthy (but very unattractive) man. She later meets a kindred spirit (who else but the charming waiter at the restaurant whom she was checking out) over the course of the night and loses her virginity to him at the dingy love motel (The Lone Star) where all three characters end up staying at by daybreak.

The motel, aptly named, offers temporary comfort to the characters, but as far as pay-for-service accommodation go, they can never provide the repose our characters are really looking for. In fact, the characters seem to find solace and cover in the night sky (which visually frames the film) which has a disarming effect and allows them to discover more about themselves (and things about the people close to them).

Credit goes to Lucky who also wrote the screenplay for blending these three stories seamlessly without feeling too contrived. While the mechanics of a characters meeting in a motel is interesting, the film is firmly grounded in its rich characterisation and its sensitive approach to portraying these characters, from their lingo to their mannerisms. Another notable aspect of the film is the well-paced editing that transported us from one character's world to the next, at a highly comfortable and natural tempo. And while the film aims to inject a sometimes humorous look at these lives, it never succumbs to 'humour orchestration' but instead draws humour from the nature of the characters and the situations instead.

An entirely honest and unpretentious piece, it is very likely to strike the chords in many audiences’ hearts and strangely, Singaporeans are also likely to find many parallels to their own lives in this film, even though we are two different cities. What I liked most about it were the poetic sensibilities evident and consistent across the entire film, all steadily paced across its 94 minutes. Now, if only I may know what happens to the three women after dawn..

Review by Gwen Xu & Jeremy Sing

'In the Absence of the Sun' is filmmaker Lucky Kuswandi's second feature film. It was the closing show of the 25th Singapore International Film Festival.

What does mean to be Singapore's first commercial R21 movie with sexual content? And what does it take to make it happen? Porn as a genre is a rather hazy concept here in Singapore as it's illegal to make porn here and due to its illegality, no talents are being groomed in this sector, be-it behind or in front of the camera. 'Lang Tong' (靓汤) a feature film by director Sam Loh, screened at the 25th Singapore International Film Festival, raises a spectre of thought about the normalising of this genre in Singapore. Or perhaps not this genre per se, but a hybrid genre consisting of soft porn fused with drama or comedy or thriller. Think 'Dangerous Liaisons' and 'Basic Instincts'.

Here's the synopsis:

A deliciously twisted tale of sex, betrayal, double crossing and murder.

Zack (William Lawandi), a remorseless serial womanizer and con-man meets his match in Li ling (Vivienne Tseng), an alluring and well-to-do woman who makes a wicked bowl of pork rib soup. Things take an unexpected turn when Zack begins an affair with Li ling's younger sister Li er. Soon, Li er convinces Zack to help her execute a heinous plot to murder her older sister, whom she blames for causing her mother's death. However, things are not as simple as they seem.

This movie was shot over 2 weeks in 2014. Visionary Films under DP Chow Woon Seong and his team supported and shot this independently financed and produced feature with casts William Lawandi, Angeline Yap, Vivienne Tseng, Esther Goh and Alan Tan. Special mention to prosthetic make up artist Christina Koh for her wonderful work on the film. Post was finished at Thunk and the film was edited by Tay Hui Cheng. Colour grading and online by was also done by Ying Sien from Thunk. Sound design and audio mix was finished at Muse and Christine Sham scored the music for the film.

We chat with director Sam Loh on the making of 'Lang Tong' (靓汤).

This is possibly the first movie in Singapore with explicit sex scenes, what prompted the decision to take on this challenge?

I am a big fan of genre films and I've always wanted to make one locally with local actors. And I also wanted to move away from what other filmmakers here are often making - heartland dramas and comedies. I decided to push the boundaries and prove that Singaporeans can make an entertaining genre film with an international appeal. Sex scenes are a norm in films from the West but just rare in local films, so why should we fear and not make them just because it's not common here? And if there is motivation in the doing them, we should write in those scenes and shoot them, regardless whether it is a sex scene, fight scene or murder scene.

Were you afraid at the start that the potential restricted rating would limit the market reach of the film?

From the beginning, I've always wanted to make a film for an international audience but rooted in the Singaporean identity using a local cast and crew. So, I didn't really restricted myself in terms of adult themes and censorship. I wanted to make a film that can travel and sell overseas, not just for local consumption.

Can you discuss some of the influences (films? Director?) that shaped the direction of Lang Tong?

The inspiration came from Takashi Miike's 'Audition' and Fruit Chan's 'Dumplings' - both films featuring femme fatales that takes revenge on man that takes advantage of them. I sort of combined the 2 elements of food and revenge and incorporated in my film. And I'm planning my own femme fatale trilogy starting with Lang Tong. I'm also a big fan of Korean cinema especially Kim Ki duk as he continues to make 'dangerous' films. I hope to emulate the success of Korean films cause their films often combine dark subject matters and commercial viability very successfully. One good example is Park Chan Wook's 'Old Boy' and Na Hong-Jin's 'The Chaser'. I hope my films can achieve that kind of success.

What were some of the initial reactions from viewers? Especially your ‘test’ audience? Or even friends?

The first reaction when I show the trailer to my test audience and even my cast was that it is nothing they have ever seen before in local films. And some commented and didn't believe that it is a Singaporean film. That, to me is a big compliment and boost as I have achieved what I intended to do right from the start - to make a film with a difference.

Is it easy to get people to strip for the camera in Singapore? How did you find your cast?

It was tough. The script was written 7 years ago and through the years, I have talked and interviewed several actresses for the part of Li er and all have turned it down because of the explicit scenes. Everything fell into place early this year when my actor Alan Tan introduced me to Angeline Yap, who courageously took on the role. And when I secured the location for the film, it was a go. My casting process is slightly different as most of the actors in the film I've worked with them before and I know what they can deliver. And I usually casts by instinct instead of asking the actor read from the script and performing for me. I usually talked casually over a coffee and find out what makes them tick, what are their inclinations and comfort level in doing scenes that are not the norm and even uncomfortable. From there, I can sort of gauge whether they are right for the part.

How were the sex scenes shot? Any interesting or funny moments to share?

I shot the sex scenes first on the first day of shoot and after that, everything else was much easier. I guess you can say the ice was broken and the actors threw away their inhibitions and everything went smoothly after. The funny thing in shooting these scenes is that it is actually very technical. Every body movement and gesture, including making moaning sounds need to be directed and rehearse for it to look tasteful and realistic. After a while, it's no different from directing talking or action scenes as the process are the same.

Why was the lead actor’s voice dubbed instead using natural voice?

The decision to dub is to improve the performances of the actors as most of them spoke English and their Mandarin wasn't that perfect. In most Hollywood films, ADR is a common practice and that's the other reason why I dubbed the whole film - to make it professionally more polished as a finished film.

What were the biggest challenges in making this film?

The limited budget and resources as well as a small team are some challenges. I practically did everything on my film - from producing, art direction, wardrobe, location, casting and of course directing. But having said that, it was professionally very satisfying.

Having done this, would you direct porn if given the opportunity?

(Laughs)Porn is a whole different ball game. It looks easy but I'm sure it's not. I will take up the challenge if the opportunity presents itself.

What are the plans in terms of distributing this film in Singapore and regionally?

MM2 is distributing my film locally and internationally.

Here's the trailer of 'Lang Tong'. Watch out for details of its commercial release soon!

Presented by the Institute of Contemporary Arts Singapore

Curated by Silke Schmickl, curator and head of Lowave; and Nicole Brenez, film scholar and professor of cinema studies at the University of Paris 3: Sorbonne Nouvelle, Paris.

The Institute of Contemporary Arts Singapore presents Singapore by Singapore: From myth to neon realism, a screening of recent, rare, and never-before-screened film and video. Tracing the evolution of Singapore ‘from mangrove to metropolis’, the films explore the island through a range of mythical and personal perspectives. These include sunny scenes of local sights in the 1960s, reflections on the May 13 Generation and speculations about Singapore’s original founder, the Srivijayan prince Sang Nila Utama.

Date: 24 January 2015 (Saturday), 8.00 pm

*Refreshments start from 7.30 pm

Venue: LASALLE College Campus Green

Film programme

Rajendra Gour, Sunshine Singapore (1968-72)
Ho Tzu Nyen, Utama—Every name in history is I (2003)
Kevin Foong, Sunsets of another world (2010)
Tan Pin Pin, 9th August (2006)
Eva Tang, Solitary Moon (2010)
Jason Soo, A short film on the May 13 Generation (2014)
Wesley Leon Aroozoo, Peep (2010)
Nelson Yeo, Chinatown. Electric Soul #01 (2013)
Jiekai Liao, Bukit Orang Salah (2013)
For more information, do check out:
http://www.lasalle.edu.sg/institute-of-contemporary-arts-sg/whats-on/?events/singapore-singapore-myth-neon-realism-short-films-screened-stars
https://www.facebook.com/events/745612608849708/

Synopsis:

STANDING IN STILL WATER reflects the lives of damaged Singaporeans, including a crippled young woman on the road of recovery; a man who sinks a dark secret to the bottom of the reservoir; the tale of a man struggling to recover from the loss of his daughter; and a young father who fails to reach out to his autistic son.

The reservoir, the life giver and life taker, connects these four characters who face loss, death, hope and love. And they are ultimately swept away by unrelenting waves of change.

As a debut feature, director Ric Aw has chosen to focus on a thematic that is familiar and close to his heart. During the Q&A session at the Singapore International Film Festival of Standing in Still Water, Ric recounted a childhood accident at a local reservoir that almost took his life. This traumatic experience clearly assimilated itself onto the screen, as the motif of the power of water and the natural anchors this tale of four interwoven stories, providing an entry point into its intimate examinations of the familial tragedies in everyday lives. The aptly named Chinese title is telling enough – the word “溺” translates to the act of drowning, and is made up of two characters denoting ‘water’ and ‘weakness’ separately. It is a concept that, on paper, possesses enough intellectualism and scope to materialize itself into a powerful morality piece.

And the cinematographic approach is indeed spot on. The film has a painterly quality to it, filled with largely pastel colors and a spattering of vast natural settings. The patient stillness of the shots, informed by the observational ideology in the filmmaking, hones in on the mundane and normalcy of these characters’ lives. All these choices afforded the film a sense of magnitude and serenity that makes the simmering dangers feel ever so disquieting. And when the impending tragedies surface themselves, the drama can become all the more hard-hitting and unsettling. This is best illustrated in a memorable early scene where a father, after what seems like an innocuous family day out, discovers his daughter lying motionless at the edge of a nature reservoir. He sprints across the waters in the wide frame, trudging through prolonged time and space, with shrieks of anguish piercing into the hearts of us observers from afar. We, the audience, are made to feel as devastated, helpless and diminutive in the presence of his unexpected tragedy, and in the presence of this force of nature.

But all these devices can only continue its work if the drama can hold up on its end. Referring back to the same Q&A session, Ric mentioned that a key objective to the film was to achieve and maintain a prevalent sense of realism and naturalism. Ironically, and unfortunately, this is exactly what’s lacking throughout the film in all accounts. A fundamental shortcoming lies in the casting and the lack of control in directorship. The abovementioned scene only works because only one actor, and a good experienced actor at that, is holding the emotional core of the scene. However, when the film follows up with an ensemble cast of varying acting styles and qualities, most of the later scenes and depicted relationships simply fail to gel together. In this project, there is a mix of actors and non-actors, veteran and the inexperienced, mandarin language based foreigners and the locals, the local television trained and the others and, most essentially, the good and the bad. Watching the film, I am not convinced that this hotchpotch had been acknowledged or addressed as the leads and non-leads alike feel ill fittingly assembled into the same world. A strange sense of muteness and stiltedness, a distinctive quality of Ric’s works, permeates Standing in Still Water’s entire universe, while the over-expressive and dramatics punctuate jarringly. This awkward inconsistency makes for rather uncomfortable viewing.

Back at the Q&A session, the direction was described by the cast as largely “minimal” and hence, “freeing”. In this case, this freedom afforded to them backfires, because unlike non-actors who might come off as authentic through their non-acting, the professional cast are saddled with their own baggage. This is also clearly not one of those narratives, with its accumulation of afflictions and crises, which can allow the director to relinquish its grip easily. Without much mediation, tempering or guidance, the actors are left to their own devices and this shows when they hardly looked like they were pulling in the same direction when working together on their scenes. It certainly does not help when the film’s predominant use of proper Mandarin further stifled most of the Singaporean cast and extras as they struggled with the utter fluency and expression of the language. What we ended up seeing are unconvincing stagey moments, uneven sparring and a discomforting lack of chemistry in all of the key relationships. The acting becomes apparent instead.

I would liken this film to a patchwork of four vignettes connected by its theme of human fragility and cosmic karma. Its seams are bulging from its overt moralisation, judged from its multiple religious references and a rather didactic narration of a farewell letter a la poetic summarization of the film. The stitch work is rough and unhandy at best; it often feels like many moments are cut off too impatiently when I was ready to let them grow on me just a few seconds longer. The interweaving also feels a little unrefined when its only too easy to slap on a tingly little overture by composer Sonicbrat almost every time a transition happens from scene to scene, story to story. Structurally, the whole piece feels fragmented, like four short films forcibly pieced together. As much as the overlapping of some its plotlines take skill and thought in its revelations, and the belated surrealism feels like a welcomed touch to the overarching realism, the ludicrous conclusions still undermined the film as a whole. I admire the philosophy behind the film; where the stillness and serenity of the water reinstates itself despite the temporality of its ripples. But maybe the filmmaker is not quite ready to tackle a theme of such complexities and profundity just yet. The intention is there, but the stories and execution do not quite match its ambition. Like his turn from short to feature filmmaking, a more sophisticatedly stitched patchwork may still be a step too far right now.

Review by Thong Kay Wee

Host Adrian Pang and Festival Chairman Mike Wiluan strike up a Bromance on stage at the Silver Screen Awards

ActressNatassja Kinski

Film director Anthony Chen

Taiwanese Actor Chen Bolin and Chinese Actress Huang Lu

Actress Yeo Yann Yann

Jeremy from SINdie steals a shot with SGIFF Executive Director Yuni Hadi (right)

Here are the winning films at the awards:

Best Film (picture above): 'Court' by Chaitanya Tamhane
Best Director: Chaitanya Tamhane
Best Performance: Sekar Sari in 'Siti'
Special Mention: 'Alive' by Park Jung-Bum

Best Southeast Asian Short Film: 'Dahdi' (Granny) by Kirsten Tan

Best Singapore Short Film: 'Not Working Today' by Shijie Tan

Best Director: Aditya Ahmad for 'On Stopping the Rain'

Special Mention: 'Vanishing Horizon of the Sea' by Chulayarnnon Siriphol

Special Honorary Award: Im Kwon Taek

Southeast Film Lab Youth Jury Award: 'May Dinadala' by Giancarlo Abrahan,

Southeast Film Lab Youth Most Promising Project: 'Awit Ng Puntod' by Bradley Liew from Malaysia

mm2 Chief Content Officer Ng Say Yong and Malaysian Filmmaker Tan Chui Mui announce the Southeast Asian Film Awards

Tan Shijie takes home the Best Singapore Short Film award with 'Not Working Today'

Royston Tan announces the Best Southeast Asian Short Film Award which went to Kirsten Tan with 'Dahdi'

Legendary Korean Film director Im Kwon Taek receives the honorary award and the only standing ovation of the night

'Court' a feature film by Chaitanya Tamhane from India wins Best Asian Feature Film

The Singapore International Film Festival opens with 'Lucky' Stars and Glamour

SGIFF Opening Film Review: Unlucky Plaza by Ken Kwek

SGIFF Review: Southeast Asian Cinema: When the Rooster Crows by Leonardo Cinieri Lombroso

SGIFF Review - Ms J Contemplates Her Choice by Jason Lai

Review - 'Banting' by M Raihan Halim

SGIFF Review: Kabukicho Love Hotel

SGIFF Singapore Panorama Shorts 1 Review: Royston Tan, Ang Geck Geck, Martin Hong, Lee Sin Yee

SGIFF Review: Singapore Girl by Kan Lume

SGIFF Review: Men Who Save The World by Liew Seng Tat

Indian film holds 'Court' at the SGIFF Silver Screen Awards

SGIFF Singapore Panorama Shorts 2 Review: Shuming He, Shane Lim, Edmund Teo, Kenny Gee

SGIFF Review: Canopy by Aaron Wilson

SGIFF Review: Lang Tong by Sam Loh

SGIFF Review: Forma by Ayumi Sakamoto

SGIFF Review: Red Amnesia by Wang Xiaoshuai

SGIFF Review: In the Absence of the Sun by Lucky Kuswandi

Production Talk on 'Lang Tong' with Sam Loh

ShoutOUT!-- Singapore by Singapore: From myth to neon realism, Short films screen under the stars

SGIFF Review: Standing in Still Water by Ric Aw

Synopsis:

Indian film holds 'Court' at the SGIFF Silver Screen Awards