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Cambodia Film Commission hits 10 and has a new website

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 Davy Chou's Diamond Island

Initiated by Oscar nominated director Rithy Panh, the Cambodian Film Commission (CFC) was established in 2009 under the Ministry of Culture and Fine Arts of Cambodia with the Support of the French Agency for Development (AFD). CFC's mission on the international level is to promote Cambodia as a film destination and facilitate filming in Cambodia by providing administrative, artistic and technical support to foreign productions. Today, this commission has hit its 10-year mark.

 Angeline Jolie's First They Killed My Father

Since 2009, foreign film productions have spent a total of USD37 million in the Cambodian economy, generating nearly three hundreds of thousands of working days. In 10 years, Cambodia hosted more than 620 film shoot including First They Killed My Father by Angelina Jolie (USA), Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon by Michael Bay (USA), Act of Valor by Scott Vaugh (USA), Almayer's Folly by Chantal Akerman (France-Belgium), The Gate by Regis Wargnier (France-Cambodia), Diamond Island by Davy Chou (France-Cambodia), and recently Onoda by Arthur Harari (France-Japan) or Buoyancy by Rodd Rathjen (released in Cambodia from October). 

In conjunction with it 10th anniversary, CFC has just launched a new website at www.cambodia-cfc.org. This updated website offers information for foreign producers such as film location galleries, production guide, information about Cambodia. CFC website is also a home for industry news such as events, opportunities, Awards and policies dedicated to the entire industry. CFC is also developing  the Cambodia Film Database (CAMBODAB), a compilation of films shot in Cambodia in a single database. 

Guest of Honour of the launch and celebration event, Under Secretary of State of Ministry of Culture and Fine Arts, H.E. Kong Khantara said,"I would like to congratulate the Cambodia Film Commission’s 10th Anniversary and appreciate all the activities and remarkable achievements of forming over 400 trainees a, welcoming approximately 600 projects and generating almost 40 million USD in Cambodian economics."




CFC has provided numerous free professional trainings, workshops and master classes to local crews and filmmakers as to develop the human resources and boost the local film industry. Young filmmakers have received extensive training and support such as Lida Chan (Red Wedding - documentary Best Film Award in the prestigious documentary festival IDFA), Neang Kavich (Where I go, Last Night I saw you smiling), Guillaume Suon (About My Father - Selected and Awarded in Biarritz). 


Lida Chan's Red Wedding

Kavich Neang's Last Night I saw You Smiling


Guillaume Suon's About My Father

CFC has also been organizing with the Bophana Center nine editions of the Cambodia International Film Festival, the main film event in Cambodia, gathering over 20.000 patrons yearly in March in the best modern theaters of Phnom Penh. CIFF has played a role of industry catalyst and provides many educational, cultural and networking opportunities for the Cambodian youth and film industry.


 Cambodia International Film Festival


Found Story: Venice winner Raymund Ribay Gutierrez speaks his 'Verdict'

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He is young and wants to call out the Filipino justice system with his latest film Verdict. Verdict is a Filipino drama about Joy, a mother and her daughter who face domestic abuse from her violent husband, Dante, whose drinking-led rage pushes her to the limits. She is badly beaten and finally decides to grab her daughter and report this to the police. Then comes the real commentary in the film - the painfully slow process of dealing with the bureaucracy which is trying to deal with her case. That filmmaker is 25-year old Raymund Ribay Gutierrez.

Starting out as a graphic artist, he later learnt he could tell a bigger story with moving images and moved into film. He was fortunate to have found a mentor in Brilliante Mendoza and Verdict was the result of their collaboration in which Brilliante was the executive producer.



This summer, the film received the Premio Speciale dela Giuria (Special Jury Prize) in the Orizzonti (Horizons) Section of the 76th Venice International Film Festival (Mostra Internazionale d’Arte Cinematografica della Biennale di Venezia) and it was the only Southeast Asian film to compete in the festival. The film has also been selected as the Philippine entry for the Foreign Language category in the 92nd OSCAR Academy Awards. Its recent festival screenings include the Toronto International Film Festival and the Pista ng Pelikulang Pilipino Film Festival. Prior to Verdict, Raymund is the first Filipino director to have competed for the Palme d’Or twice in the short film category of Cannes with IMAGO (2016) and Judgment (2018).  Judgement was a precursor short film to Verdict.
Photo courtesy of Film Development Council of the Philippines

SINdie had the honour of speaking to Raymund on the making of his film and his craft in filmmaking.

Verdict has been described as a kind of slow burn commentary about the dire state of bureaucracy in the legal system of the Philippines. Can you share why you have chosen such a treatment for the film? 

I'm following a certain theory of writing/telling a story which is Found Story. From this theory our basis in writing the script is to base our imagination through the factual research we got. Believable is not enough, life and reality is our main objective which needs to come from the referent we interviewed. At first, I have a different voice about the material of domestic violence, but with a thorough research I found something much more interesting that involves a bigger issue of the society which is the justice system. That's were I manage to decide to stick to certain procedural structure. Domestic violence is the best case to manifest the struggles of justice system but it can also happen in a different case as well. The physical abuse from the husband/suspect is less compared from the abuse that the Justice System withholds. 

Can you take us through the casting process? Why was Max Eigenmann chosen for the role of Joy and Kristoffer King for the role of Dante? 

I came to my mentor, Brillante Mendoza's roster of actors at first, logistically and time wise this is the best thing to do. I always wanted to work with Kristofer King because we have the same ideology in the film making process, he can suggest as well as execute. As for the battered wife's role, we called for an audition because this is very critical. At first I was thinking to just hire a non-professional actress for this role only because of I want to capture the rawness of the situation. It's easy for me to instruct non-professional because they don't think too much. They just react, but it's very difficult to find these person that can commit genuinely. Max came from the audition and i was satisfied from her performance. We saw something that is very natural and interesting. 

Max Eigenmann



Kristofer King


Are you a fan of Cinema Verite? How do you achieve your version of it in this film or your other films? 

I'm a fan of mirroring life as it is without glamour. I also acknowledge mistakes and spontaneous in the set which can only capture more essentially by a moving camera; cinema verite. The birth of my in-depth passion in filmmaking is when I came to watch films from Polish, Romanian and French new wave. The struggles are very universal and the compostions are raw and brilliant. I’m still learning to master the film language for a better storytelling and not just stick from what i used to do. 

How did you work with your actors to get them to deliver your desired result? 

I only give them the script on the day of the shoot to avoid overthinking and being too mechanical. I try to give them the essence of the scene and also hear what they handle the situation as for their characters perspective because I also give them interpretation from what they perceive. It's a collaboration. Sometimes I limit my explanation in a brief matter and don't over do it. 1st take is always the best take even though there are mistakes and flaws, sometimes I re-write the script based from the mistake they did so that the scene can be more organic and natural as long as it says the same voice I have for the film. 

Photo courtesy of Film Development Council of the Philippines



Photo courtesy of Film Development Council of the Philippines


Your film has been compared to Xavier Legrand's Custody, also piece on domestic abuse, what are your thoughts on that comparison? 

I haven't seen Custody, well honestly I avoid watching it because I know I'll just be conscious on how to do things just for the sake of being different. I pay attention from the material I have and look more into what I can tell in that aspect. It's a bigger abuse of society is what I aim to convey. Film reference are great, It can give you different ideas, but the best idea should come from our perspective and character as a human being. 

Tell us a bit about Brillante Mendoza as a mentor to you. 

We argue from time to time in some aspects only because we are both passionate on what we do. I always keep in my mind what he said; In production you should always look for the problem because if there's aren't any, that's a big problem. Never become to comfortable in everything you do and always have multiple plans ahead. 


What kind of effect do you hope your film would have on Filipino society? 

When we make films, first we determine our position, I know I am making an art film and not mainstream thus all my decision and expectaion lead through that path. I'm not expecting a lot from the Filipino audience. We have a difficult situation living in the Philippines thus, I can't blame them for wanting to watch escapist films. Our films are too depressing and cold. We have a small audience which is the minority, a certain niche, though It's a common situation for films that tackles societal issues at it's finest. We are not hoping to make lots of money compared to mainstream, but at least I hope that these minority audience is strong, certain and consistent enough to take-in these art films we are doing. 

What were some of the best or most interesting feedback you received about your film at Venice? 

That they can also relate from the film.

Interview by Jeremy Sing

Review: Singapore Shorts 2019

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Organised by the Asian Film Archive, Singapore Shorts 2019 celebrates the best of Singaporean short films. Held at the Oldham Theatre during the weekends of 10-18 August 2019 and with a rescreening on 6 October 2019, the annual showcase includes a diverse selection of cinematic works from various genres that were carefully selected by a distinguished panel. SINdie had the opportunity to catch four short films from this selection.


Flexier Than You (2019), directed by Zhiyi Cao

“At the crossroads of the economic and social, one either adopts the ‘ambivalent', strategically cultivated to negotiate realities, or be subjected to a more abject condition, of schizophrenia in thrall to the logic of late capitalism. Choose your poison.”

Flexier Than You examines the socio-economic dynamic between Singaporean society and its creative industries. The short film reveals the pervasiveness of neoliberal logic within the creative industry, providing a social critique of how this flawed ethos permeates within this industry, as well as the dire repercussions that follows such a logic.

The film grapples this loaded topic in its own distinctive style, complete with commentary-esque flair, snippets of actual ‘creatives’ and a unique sense of eccentricity. Most of the film revolves primarily in the conversation between two “millennial” figures, yet it is their conversation that the loaded subject is encapsulated in an entertaining, yet thoughtful way. Flexier Than You thus makes one rethink the relations between creativity and state control, and on a larger level, the self and society, all within 18 minutes.


Still (2019), directed by Khidhir Kassim

The loss of a loved one is a heavy theme to grapple with. Despite being 4 minutes long, Still manages to capture the essence of this concept. The short film goes through a day in the life of Wife, the unnamed elderly protagonist who lives alone and works in multiple low-skilled jobs. Towards the end of the film, Wife receives hearing aids -- it is revealed that she is a widow who suffers from hearing impairment -- and listens to old recordings of her husband’s voice as he sings to her.

In spite of its short length, the film manages to effectively portray the theme of loss and loneliness through the figure of Wife and its many stylistic choices: its desaturated tones, minimal dialogue and the moving soundtrack of Amni Musifirah’s “Kau Tak Sendiri (You’re Not Alone)” overlaying the entire short all emphasize the sense of poignancy as experienced by Wife. Still provides a succinct yet emotionally-charged narrative that beckons to the power of blissful remembrance: of how others who are long gone can continue to live in us through memories. The short film also carries a didactic tone by reminding us of how a small contribution can go a long way, as was the hearing aid that Wife received by Zakat (a form of religious charity via tithe) in the film that made all the difference for her.



Chasing Paper (2018), directed by Shoki Lin

The pursuit of academic excellence is a quintessential facet of the everyday Singaporean student's life. In Chasing Paper, this aspect is pushed to its boundaries when Hui Shu (Kelly Lim) attempts to support her daughter, Yu Ping (Nicole Lee), in her upcoming examinations, amidst the backdrop of a low-income family with a strained mother-daughter relationship. It is eventually revealed that Yu Ping, out of desperation to keep her scholarship, resorts to cheating in her exams; Hui Shu initially berates her upon this discovery. Hui Shu’s moral compass is challenged when, out of desperation to support her daughter, she surprisingly turns against her own words and helps her daughter to cheat for the upcoming major examinations.

One would expect to know more about the outcome of this momentous decision, but it is here that the compelling story arc comes to a haltthe film denies us of any proper closure thereafter, apart from some subtleties. The outcome of the examination is ambiguous, and the moral message of the film seems rather cloudy. Despite this, Chasing Paper still remains a praiseworthy story about the lengths a mother would go to for her daughter. Bolstered by exemplary acting from the cast and solid thematic concerns, this drama of a mother-daughter relationship stretched to its moral limits could be further read as a meaningful critique of families driven to desperation by social circumstances.


Bare (2018), directed by Martin Loh


Martin Loh’s Bare examines the philosophy behind naturism in Singapore. This exploration is viewed through the lenses of Richard (Khyan Kotak), who interviews two naturists to gain a better understanding of their lifestyles. The film is framed in a documentary format with surreal elements, most notably the scenes whereby we are transported into Richard’s mind, which Loh constructs to be akin to a visual chamber embodying a consistent dreamlike quality. Loh utilises these dreamlike sequences to scrutinise our conceptions of nudity through the consistent juxtaposition of colors and symbols within such sequences. Ultimately, the film serves as an engaging thought experiment in enabling viewers to rethink the role of social constructivism in our deeply embedded aversion to such conceptions of nudity.

Written by Bryson Ng

Review: Motif (2019)

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In first-time feature director Nadiah Hamzah’s crime thriller Motif, calculated cold-blooded murder opens the film. Equally calculated is Nadiah’s touch, or rather grip, on the crime thriller genre. A mix of complex characters and an intricate web of shady individual schemes are cleverly interlocked through the mind the director, making Motif quite a delicious adventure. 

Motif, the Malay rendition of the word ‘motive’, is a whodunnit about the daughter of Hussein, a prominent small town businessman, who was found dead. Crafted in the familiar form of a police investigation drama, the film finds its real resonance in its context of provincial corruption in Malaysia. Small town people of influence taking bribes to be exact. A middle-ranked, no-nonsesne female police officer, played by Sharifah Amani, is transferred to the local town unit to handle the case. She virtually takes it by its horn and flexes some serious muscle in getting the investigation going and sterilising the local police unit, weeding out what’s compromising below her and above her. Director Nadiah is certainly not the first to ‘take the bureaucracy to task’ within a film, in the wake of what’s been happening in the Malaysian political landscape, but Motif is a fair attempt at socio-political commentary. We are led to cast our judgements and point our fingers at certain characters very early on the film, but in relation to that, it packs a few surprises. 


Sharifah Amani has an unrelenting presence as Dewi in the film and the showdown between Dewi and Hussein in an interrogation room is hard to forget. After putting Hussein, whom she thought was the prime suspect for long enough, she unleashed her anger on him in the interrogation room like a pit bull. While most of the movie centred around Dewi and Hussein locking horns, equally interesting was Dewi’s relationship with local constable Rizal. Rizal is the epitome what’s rotten in the local police unit, the efficiency, the potential for compromise and the slighting of women. He had no idea what he was up against when he tried to resist ‘Hurricane Dewi’. It is in their interactional dynamics that we also realise the feminist aspirations of the film (in a good way). Dogged in her determination at bringing justice to people, she appears almost like a superhero character, fighting one too many villains at a time with only one of her. At the same time, dotted across the film are deliberate jibes at the parochial, sexist attitudes of the small town by director Nadiah. Hussein tried to socially reduce Dewi at the beginning by asking her “Aren’t you too young to be a detective?” “Are you married?”. At another point, blaring out of the radio was a talk show in which someone quipped that if Islam says it’s okay for men to have multiple wives, then it must be good. 



Also, Dewi’s moments are riveting because she is paired by Hussein the villain, compellingly portrayed by screen legend Rosyam Nor. In fact, Rosyam has a harder job than Sharifah. He needs to convey a glimmer of innocence beneath the guilty label the film has set him up for. In his moments of grieving, he had to also to show pockets of what looks like a wink to the unthinkable, a ‘murderer-in-the-house’ kind of epiphany. So compared to the straight-laced abrasiveness of Inspector Dewi, Hussein is there to keep the fun in solving the whodunnit. It is Rosyam’s sure-footed and masterful rendition of Hussein that keeps this adventure delicious. Mustaqim Mohamed, who played Rizal, unfortunately, was not in the same league. For a character caught in between Dewi and Hussein, played to so much ferocity by the film’s leads, the actor fell short of delivering the nuances and dilemmas so essential to the role. 


What the film builds up in the first half gets slightly unravelled in the second half when the director tries to introduce too many elements and sudden turns, without having enough screen to justify them. A case in point is Dewi’s pregnancy and relationship with man who was already attached. It does serve to showcase her weaker moments and her own compromises, which stand in stark contrast to her professional intolerance for compromise. However, this duality in her character was not fully explored enough, and made it seem more like a distraction. 

For a first feature from a director who has won top honours from the advertising world’s version of Cannes, Motif is still a well-paced ride which keeps the suspense throughout the film and the payoff right at the very end. It is also a rather stunning film to which the cinematography and production design teams have done a commendable job with the film’s very modest budget of RM500,000. Can we all agree we love the smoky look of the film? 


Motif opened nationwide in Malaysia on 26 September 2019. Go catch it now.

Review by Jeremy Sing


Motif a film by Nadiah Hamzah (Trailer) from PLANET FILMS on Vimeo.

ShoutOUT! Yosep Anggi Noen and Amanda Nell Eu take home top two prizes in contention

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 From left to right: Artist Sherman Ong (Malaysia); director Garin Nugroho (Indonesia); Next New Wave Award winner for Best Cinematography, Lim Kean Hian; Next New Wave Award winner for Best Film, Amanda Nell Eu; Next New Wave Award winner for Best Sound, Anwar Johari Ho; Lumix Regional Digital Imaging Specialist, Cliff Pek; and director Shireen Seno (Philippines).

The 2019 SeaShorts Film Festival wrapped on Sunday with a ceremony at Panggung Bangsawan Melaka, handing out eight awards totalling RM40,000 in prizes. 

Ballad of Blood and Two White Buckets picked up the coveted best of the fest SeaShorts Award. In this visceral drama by Indonesian director Yosep Anggi Noen, shifts in religious beliefs imperil the livelihood of a couple who eke out a marginal existence selling a foodstuff that some see as nutritious and others as haram. 


Amanda Nell Eu came out tops among her Malaysian peers with Vinegar Baths collecting the Next New Wave Award. Her idiosyncratic take on a vampire folklore places the feared fiend in the modern day as a harried nurse manning a maternity ward. 


Choosing the winners out of a 26-strong shortlist was no easy feat, and on this occasion the decision laid on the shoulders of the who’s who of industry players. Venice Film Festival Golden Lion winner Lav Diaz (Philippines) headed the SeaShorts Award jury alongside actor Fatimah Abu Bakar (Malaysia) and curator Gertjan Zuilhof (Netherlands). His Indonesian counterpart Garin Nugroho meanwhile led judging duties for the Next New Wave Award with director Shireen Seno (Philippines) and artist Sherman Ong (Malaysia). 

Lav Diaz at the ceremony

Commenting on the nominees, Garin said, “In the ten films, all with such different themes and styles, we saw an impressive capacity to tell stories in a short time. The quality was quite even across the board, but there were certain films that really had a rare courage to tackle sensitive issues.” 

The evening capped off a successful five-day run, as the historical city of Melaka was transformed into a hotbed for cinema enthusiasts celebrating storytelling from Southeast Asia and beyond. The third edition of the annual festival comprised more than a hundred short films spread over ten countries across the region. Premieres both internationally and locally lined the programme, which also included talks, forums, masterclasses, workshops, and an exhibition by participating guests. 

Tan Chui Mui, Festival founder and director, said, “The competition section is an impactful demonstration of the vibrancy and diversity of Southeast Asian filmmaking. I applaud each director for their boldly distinctive work and hope that SeaShorts can help focus even more attention from our audiences to look inwards rather than towards foreign productions for their movie viewing options.” 

The event was made possible with the support of The Japan Foundation Asia Center, FINAS, the State of Melaka and Melaka Tourism Promotion Division, Film Development Council of the Philippines, Purin Pictures, Da Huang Pictures, Sinema Media, SINdie, Panasonic, Aputure Imaging Industries, Deity Microphones, Zoom Corporation, Epson, and CK Music. More than RM10,000 was collected through a fundraising campaign on pitchIN to help filmmakers attend the Festival. 


 And the winners are: 

SEASHORTS COMPETITION (Overall)  

SeaShorts Award for Best Film | Ballad of Blood and Two White Buckets by Yosep Anggi Noen (Indonesia) 
Synopsis: A couple selling congealed blood find their livelihood endangered by shifting religious beliefs. 
Jury remarks: Mature and well-balanced, Ballad of Blood and Two White Buckets stands out as a powerful film on the bloody currents of society. 

SeaShorts Award for Best Cinematography | Vinegar Baths by Amanda Nell Eu (Malaysia) 
Synopsis: A tired and overworked nurse at the maternity ward finds joy when she is alone roaming the hospital corridors at night. It's the time when she can finally eat. 
Jury remarks: Vinegar Bathsis utterly defiant; a wholly original and unafraid work that creates its own vivid universe. 

SeaShorts Award for Best Sound | Blessed Land by Phạm Ngọc Lân (Vietnam) 
Synopsis: Past and present converge in the search for a grave. 
Jury remarks: Blessed Land puts poetry in motion, beautiful and mysterious as it builds its space with a delicate attention to sound and picture. 

Yosep Anggi Noen's acceptance speech

NEXT NEW WAVE COMPETITION (Malaysia only) 

Next New Wave Award for Best Film | Vinegar Baths by Amanda Nell Eu 
Synopsis: A tired and overworked nurse at the maternity ward finds joy when she is alone roaming the hospital corridors at night. It's the time when she can finally eat. 
Jury remarks: An enigmatic film that offers a complex and delightful universe of satire, myth, and the complexities of human nature; Vinegar Baths boldly puts forth a statement about the female form as an agent for social commentary. 

Next New Wave Award for Best Cinematography | Langit Budak Biru by Lim Kean Hian 
Synopsis: Two teenage boys grapple with bullying at their school. 
Jury remarks: In its portrayal of two male students at an Islamic boarding school, Langit Budak Biru offers a multi-layered interpretation of a rare and courageous theme. Its development of the space as a character is commendable, efficient, and effective. 

Next New Wave Award for Best Sound | Forget Me Not by Anwar Johari Ho 
Synopsis: A transnational romance between a Malaysian and a Chinese mainlander, told in three parts. 
Jury remarks: Forget Me Not’s nuanced treatment of sound allows its silence and whispers to speak volumes, with its use of sound and space offering an insight into the passage of time across geography. 

Next New Wave Award for Most Promising Filmmaker | To Work by Jeremy Emang Jecky 
Synopsis: Mr. Elisah dreams of a better life beyond his rural upbringing, but past troubles still haunt him. 
Jury remarks: In dauntlessly combining supernatural and science, micro and macro, physical and metaphysical, To Work exhibits strong courage and potential. 

Next New Wave Award for Most Promising Filmmaker | The Life We Live by Loh Din-Yung 
Synopsis: A woman leads a simple existence in a sinking harbour city. 
Jury remarks: In a poetic expression, The Life We Live poignantly presents the personal life, social alienation, and tragedy of living in an industrial city.

Loh Din-Yung

Jeremy Emang Jecky accepting the award

Lim Kean Hian accepting the award

Review: Vinegar Baths by Amanda Nell Eu @SeaShorts

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Two feet soaking in a body of water held by a porcelain tub. Still and quiet, with the red nail polish glaring back at the viewers with a sort of defiance, an edge beyond the gentleness and melancholy of the scene's cool blue tones. Slow and with clarity, her voice is heard and drips of blood stain the water red. 



Every drop of blood echoes, living on for longer than their moment on screen; lingering on like a spirit you are able to feel but not touch nor grasp with your warm hands. The sound was magnified, flooding your senses until the sounds are all you hear — the cracking of bones, wheeling of hospital trolleys and rolling skin on a plastic portable pool. 




"When I showed the sound designer Luka Kuncevic the cut, he felt that there was something that sucked you right into the world of these women, and so we both decided to play with silence, to have a feeling that is more introspective. And in silence, that is when you hear things at a more heightened state. The bones cracking and lips smacking - I wanted the audience to have goosebumps on their skin. The film is essentially about the body and it was important for me to showcase something sensorial so that it travels from image, to sound, to feeling the hairs stand on the back of your neck," shared Amanda Nell Eu, the director of Vinegar Baths. 




Visceral and almost dreamlike, Vinegar Baths is a short film about a tired and overworked nurse who finds joy in late night moments of being alone and to satisfy her hunger. Exploring the myth of the Penanggalan, Amanda adds a new dimension to her exploration of the woman's body and identity within the Southeast Asia. 




On why she decided on Penanggalan instead of the better known Pontianak, she said, "The Pontianak is the queen bee, the hot girl in high school that every guy wants to date and every girl wants to be! But actually, I think more Southeast Asian cultures have a Penanggalan, they are just named differently so I'm not sure who is more famous then. In Sabah she is called Balan-balan, Bali she is Le-ak, Thailand she is Krasue and Philippines she is Manananggal. She has many names and therefore isn't necessarily recognised just as the Penanggalan."






The myth goes that the Penanggalan is able to detach her head from her body, leaving her entrails dangling and feeds on newborn infants, the mother's placenta and blood. Not a classical undead being, she is very much human in the day while the night is when she thrives and feeds. 




Although seemingly gory, the film seems more surreal and dreamlike than anything else. Hues of pink, purple and a pastel wash paint over the scenes that lend gentleness to every scene. Nothing was made frightful or typical of a film looking to portray our mythical women of the region. The femininity and I would say beauty really came through.




"The colours really came when we were looking for a location to shoot in. It was difficult to shoot in a working hospital, so we ended up finding the basement of an old clinic, which in reality looked like an actual horror film set. The production designer, Sharon Chin, and I definitely did not want to create this "horror" atmosphere so we had the place fixed and cleaned up as best we could, but somehow there was this distinct texture that still lingered. That was really what inspired the look of the film, we got lucky with the location. It gave us so much and all we had to do was enhance it, every choice we made just seemed organic to the location. Also massive thanks to the cinematographer, Mahen Bala and the colour grader, Setyo Wibowo. I made everyone listen to Nicki Minaj and Cardi B when making this film, so the colours of the film may or may not have been inspired by their music!" Amanda revealed. 



Featuring an all-women cast and placing our bodies as vessels of celebration instead of shame, I enjoyed the unapologetic nature of Vinegar Baths. The complete embracing of identities and self-assuredness of each woman cast a different light to women representation, stories and perspective especially in film and media today. A subversion of the male gaze and letting the characters come to life simply because they can and deserve to be. 

Amanda wrapped up the conversation with her thoughts on the film being women-centric and representation in general: "Vinegar Baths is women-centric because as a woman, it's my honest representation of the story I am trying to tell. I think it's always important for film to have a diverse representation of people behind and in front of the camera because that's really what creates diverse storytelling. It's not okay if we just kept seeing the same types of stories with the same types of characters on screen all the time. That's just storytelling from one side and the more this side is shown the more we feel uncomfortable about all the other wonderful sides that are present in this world."

And it is films like these that make me glad to be living as a woman today, to feel represented and to occupy a still very much patriarchal space without apology. To see pride and small joys reflected on screen makes me feel that one day, everyone will be able to live this way and no longer will anyone be a plot device for anybody else. 

Here's to Vinegar Baths, a film about women for women — no frills, no strings attached, no stereotypes.

ShoutOUT! 'Wet Season' to open the 30th SGIFF and nabs Golden Horse nominations with 'A Land Imagined'

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Singapore director Anthony Chen's tender, impassioned drama Wet Season 《热带雨》 will open the 30th Singapore International Film Festival (SGIFF) on 21 November 2019 at Capitol Theatre. The introspective feature was the sole Asian entry in competition at the 44th Toronto International Film Festival’s Platform competition, and marked the first time a Singaporean film was selected for the section. SGIFF will run from 21 November to 1 December 2019.


Wet Season 《热带雨》deals with the contemporary theme of unlikely friendships, burrowing under the skin of a restless, budding Singapore. Set during the monsoon season, the double character study follows the plight of a Malaysia-born Chinese language secondary school teacher, Ling (starring independent film veteran Yeo Yann Yann), and her curious, self-affirming relationship with a student, Wei Lun (starring Koh Jia Ler, who was nominated for Best Newcomer at the 50th Golden Horse Awards for his performance in Ilo Ilo). Ling finds little respect wherever she is. 

At school, her teaching subject Mandarin is met with contempt and disinterest; at home, her marriage is fraying as she single-handedly bears the burden of conceiving without the support of her often-absent husband. She receives unexpected solace from Wei Lun, who carries a similar loneliness from neglect by his peers and family. Enveloped by their yearning to be understood, their special bond provides relief from their stifling circumstances, blossoming into a forbidden romance in the humid tropics. 

Driven by the lesser-seen female perspective, the audience is left to ponder on the complexity of the human spirit as they discover the fluidity of societal roles and identity in the shoes of Ling. 


Executive Director of SGIFF Yuni Hadi commented, “Over the years, Singapore filmmakers have brought their dreams across the globe, anchored on resonating stories of home, or steadfast tales with Singaporean sensibilities at their core. It is meaningful for us to open the 30th edition with a Singapore film. Anthony Chen’s break-out debut in 2013 was a defining moment in our cinematic history, and we are excited to open the 30th SGIFF with his highly-anticipated sophomore feature that continues to reveal the intricacies of human relationships and connections. SGIFF is committed to being a discovery ground and champion for Singapore film, as we look forward to celebrating and connecting over many more years of inspiring Southeast Asian cinema.” 

Wet Season 《热带雨》 is Anthony Chen’s second directorial feature after the award-winning Ilo Ilo, which was recognised by forty awards internationally, including four Golden Horse Awards at the 50th Golden Horse Awards in Taiwan. 

Sharing on Wet Season as the opening film of SGIFF, Anthony Chen said, “It makes me so happy to premiere Wet Season to Singapore audiences at SGIFF especially in its milestone 30th edition. The Festival remains at the heart of Singapore and Southeast Asian cinema, and I treasure this opportunity to be sharing my film journey with a community that has encouraged and nurtured me right from the beginning.” 



Anthony added, "All the films I have made have always been personal in some way or other. While developing Wet Season, Ling’s desire to have a child oddly mirrors my own experience of trying to start a family with my wife. The desperation and pain, resilience and determination of Ling is something I have observed and greatly empathise with."

On working with Yeo Yann Yann and Koh Jia Ler again, Anthony said, " It was not part of the plan at all. Like in Ilo Ilo, I spent a long period of over one and half years working with my casting team in search of a fresh face to play the 16-year-old student in Wet Season. We saw hundreds of boys and did a year-long workshop with a group of shortlisted boys. We couldn’t quite find our ideal teenager, and I chanced upon a recent photo of Jia Ler on instagram and decided to throw him into the mix. He sparkled immediately and the entire team knew right away he was the one to play Wei Lun. Jia Ler has grown up so much in 6 years, but his natural flair for performance and rhythm continues to flourish."

Wet Season 《热带雨》also received another piece of good news yesterday when it had clinched a total of six nominations at the upcoming 56th Golden Horse Awards. The nominations include: 
  • Best Narrative Feature 最佳剧情长片 · 
  • Best Director (Anthony Chen) 最佳导演 (陈哲艺)  
  • Best Leading Actress (Yeo Yann Yann) 最佳女主角 (杨雁雁) 
  • Best Supporting Actor (Koh Jia Ler) 最佳男配角 (许家乐) 
  • Best Supporting Actor (Yang Shi Bin) 最佳男配角 (杨世彬) 
  • Best Original Screenplay (Anthony Chen) 最佳原著剧本 (陈哲艺) 

Leading actress Yeo Yann Yann adds, “I am very thankful for the recognition from the Golden Horse Awards. It is already an honour to be nominated. I hope that more people can get to watch Wet Season 《热带雨》 and I can’t wait to bring the movie back to Singapore in November.”

Adding to the celebration for Singapore cinema was the four Golden Horse nominations for Yeo Siew Hua's drama A Land Imagined in Best Original Screenplay, Best Original Film Score, Best Film Editing and Best Sound Effects. The film has been selected as Singapore's entry to the Academy Awards' Best International Feature Film category, previously known as the Best Foreign Language Film category.

Review: Levitating Exhibition by Ukrit Sa-nguanhai @SeaShorts

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Suvarnabhumi, also known as the Land of Gold, has remained one of the most debated toponyms due to its mythical and contentious nature. Vaguely, we understand that it is possibly within Southeast Asia, but we have no concrete facts beyond certain informed guesses and nationalistic agendas.

But perhaps this elusiveness is the very quality that allows our imagination to fill in the gaps and to wonder how Suvarnabhumi came about. Was it definitely a physical place, or perhaps an imagery made by travellers to depict hope, joy and wealth? 

Levitating Exhibition by Thai video artist and filmmaker Ukrit Sa-nguanhai starts off with a brief introduction to this land that seems so out of reach. There are primitive-like scrawls on rocky walls and visual storytelling accompanied by a voiceover, before a transition into one room of a love motel. A jump from the historical into the present, we see housekeepers armed with toothbrushes scrubbing the tiles clean while engaging in conversation. 

Cognitively, I struggle to grasp what was going on and am unable to see the relationship between the history of Suvarnabhumi and the love motel. Perhaps I lack the contextual knowledge, however, there is a sense of coherence that comes from the ambiguity in time and space; operating within a vacuum where past and present seem to coexist together. 

Ukrit reveals that the opening sequence and the museum scene share the same location: "The artefacts were found in "Nakhon Pathom", my hometown which is also where the motel's located. Coincidentally, it’s also the area that was once believed to be the centre of Suvarnabhumi, The Golden Peninsular, by the Thai Government. All these spaces have some interesting relationship in terms of time and space."



With no one scene done of the outside world in terms of earth and sky, time stretches itself within the film. Day and night did not seem to matter, neither did truth and embellishments. The interiors cave in on the characters and engulf their presence on screen. The nature of existence becomes a feeling, a sixth sense and a passive observation. This left me feeling the transcendence of a title such as Levitating Exhibition.

"I found that the word “Levitating” is a good implication of this kind of history that we have in Thailand (maybe also in other Southeast Asia countries), the history of the great ancient kingdom that exists between myth and history, and it is used to show how grateful we were in the past," explains Ukrit.



On the concept, Ukrit goes into the idea of boundaries: "It begins with the boundary between the myth and the history of Suvarnabhumi, then I link the relationship between past and present, and the function of them which somehow are fantasy and the tasks of someone/something in maintaining their beauty."

Each room featured in the film are specifically chosen to serve their story in the narrative. Besides the liminal space that the short film seem to take the audience into, the intimacy is heightened through portrayal of crumpled sheets and whatever is left behind after sex. Well, it is a love motel after all. Though the various acts are left to imaginative thoughts fuelled by a voiceover commentary, I feel a strange sense of voyeurism and violation that one might be able to guess so much just from dirty sheets, pillow positions, accidental stains.

And if we are able to piece together entire scenarios and narratives from small clues, how are we still lost about Suvarnabhumi or is nothing left behind from that period of time? Or maybe, we are not looking in the right places?

Of confusion and speculation, I asked Ukrit if there's a certain aspect of Thailand he wants to show through this film. He replies, "I have no specific part of Thailand that I want to show, but showing the film in other Southeast Asian countries that share some common myth and history is very interesting for me personally. So I’m very happy that the film will be shown in Malaysia, which is also believed by some scholar to be Suvarnabhumi (The Golden Peninsular)."

I find myself pondering over his answer, and wonder if this is Suvarnabhumi and we just don't recognise it without nostalgia and pensiveness. Who knows?

Review: You Idiot by Kris Ong @SeaShorts

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As a Singaporean millennial myself, I asked filmmaker Kris Ong what is one thing Singapore should know about us youths and our dreams. She responds with a Walt Whitman quote from his poem Song of Myself



"Do I contradict myself? 

Very well, then I contradict myself, 
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)"


And I thought that simple quote encompasses the film as well, that even if my review ended here, it would not have mattered. 



Her short film You Idiot is a glimpse of that carefree nature we associate with youthfulness. Matt and Darren roam the streets at night, and write a song about where their world might end up in the future. 



There is a softness to the film that words escape me. Watching the film warms me, like a familiar embrace that my heart has memorised; forgotten feelings rekindled. Evenly paced throughout, breathing space exists on the screen where one key focus shifts to another. The ordinary shines in the scenes that segue from one to the other, from walking the streets late night to stopping in front of a well-furnished motorcycle and wishing they get to ride their own in time. 



For Kris, the choice of a motorcycle is obvious: "In Singapore a car is like a symbol of affluence, luxury and convenience. But not freedom, at least not to me. It’s just so expensive here. In bigger countries a car might mean escape. But there’s nowhere you can really escape to in Singapore with a registered car. Forget JB. There are a flood of burdensome concerns that come with owning and maintaining a car in Singapore. 

Maybe it’s because I watched “Eating Air” on the big screen when I was a kid. I never forgot the scenes of the ah bengs chasing each other down the highways on their motorcycles. The wind in the tassels of Mark Lee’s leather jacket. I’ve always held onto that romantic image, of rebelliousness and speed."



That romance with an edge is definitely enhanced by the choice to feature music by local musicians in its glory — singing lyrics out loud, jamming on guitars and putting words to music which is usually a process hidden from the public eye. The intimacy of friendship and the silliness stand out while earning a couple of guilty laughs from me, as I recall my own memories of friends, dreams and days of fewer inhibitions. 


But what really strikes me is the constant motion, the sense of moving. A pulse that keeps going, restlessness but not from anxiety or boredom, but from having comfortable company and that taking any direction will be a good one. The characters Matt and Darren spin on a playground ride before going on a journey through multiple means of travel, be it literal or imagined. 



This draws out a romantic notion of wandering and exploration, which is freeing and so exciting. However, perhaps being Singaporean, I also feel a tinge of bittersweetness, knowing that this island country seems to get smaller by the day and not all wanders are rewarded the same. This leads me to think about how we are seduced by the concept of travel so strongly here, and it is made accessible with our passport if you have the financial means to do so. 



"I think in modern times traveling has become emblematic of freedom and escape. It’s not exclusive to Singapore. But it’s true that Singaporeans really love to travel. We have no “countryside” to escape to and forget ourselves in. When you travel your mind opens up, one can imagine all the different ways to exist in a new space. The anonymity is also seductive," Kris offers her two cents at my digression.



I do wonder if our search is for something bigger than ourselves, or simply for a better sense of belonging. To know that our hopes do have a space here and we deserve to exist. Intersections, contradictions and all. 


And bringing it all back to the beginning of this review, we really never are merely one thing at any given point in time and definitely more than one thought, one dream and one feeling. With that, Kris muses, "I don’t think it’s for me to say what audiences should take away from the film. Maybe what I can share is a thought I had as I made the film. Just like how the the characters wander around and then write a song at the end of the night— what informs creation is often an elusive and mysterious process."

Written by Dawn Teo

You Idiot was recently screened at the 2019 SeaShorts Film Festival and won Best Editing, Cinematography and Original Music at the Singapore National Youth Film Awards.


Review: February Wind by Mony Kann Darung @SeaShorts

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The soft focus lensing, the pastel-hued finishing that evokes the sweetness of a love ballad, the eye candy of a cast that look like YouTube idols or influencers, make this film a departure from the more heavy-going, socio-politically conscious films that have come out of Cambodia. February Wind, by Mony Kann Darung, gives a glimpse of a fully transitioned Cambodia, a gaze at popular culture fitted into the discipline of film. 

The short film is about a couple desperately holding to their romance across distance. Sai is a waiter in a restaurant while Marie is his girlfriend who has left to study abroad. They maintain their relationship through teary phone calls and the occasional daydreaming about escaping to some with mountains and Sakura flowers (I didn't know Sakuras could grow in Cambodia!?) What makes this fateful love story more poignant is director Darung's use of visual dramatic irony. Marie physically appears next to Sai in some scenes when they are talking but disappears the next moment, rubbing salt to Sai's emotional burns. 


The film is unmistakably styled like teenage idol TV drama. There is Marie, whose sweet, dreamy looks keeps you in the mood for Korean bingsu. There is also the highly-gentrified café that looks like a scene out of Taiwanese film Café.Waiting.Love. Little surprise when director Darung reveals that the film is inspired by a song from Sai, a real music artist who plays the lead, also named Sai, in the film. Darung previously collaborated with him and the female and because he found a particular song beautiful, they started to discuss if they could make a narrative short based on the song. February Wind is the outcome of the discussion. 


Referring the film's ambiguity in having the Marie appear next to Sai when they are communicating on a long distance call, Darung commented, "The choice of characters interaction is intended to provoke the feeling of hope and wishful thinking, that it was never really a reality. It also served as a plot device for the final scene where visually they kiss giving a moment of closure, yet the audience would knows better that it's not a reality. It's all in his imagination."

"I made this film with an intention to give audiences a break from Cambodia's dark history that many films tend to deal with. I believe that there are many stories left from Cambodian history to tell, but there are also many other stories that many Cambodian filmmakers chose to ignore. I made this film partly to show that modern Cambodia has many more stories waiting to be told and we have the technical capacity to make genre films, "commented Darung on the choice of making something of a total departure from the typical history-laden Cambodian cinema.

On whether romance genres are popular in Cambodia, Darung mentioned that romances are hard to come by, though there is rising demand. Comedy and horror tend to be more popular, with some action films also rising in popularity. 

Curious about the state of independent filmmaking in Cambodia, I asked Darung what the main challenges of filmmaking are in Cambodia. 

He said, "Like any other country, the main challenge for films is getting funded. There is no state funds for access, no investment pool from investors. The film community here is a closed society, where one needs to build up their name to a certain level in order to get in. Therefore, many young filmmakers are struggling to find their place and many are discouraged to make films, as they switch to catch the raise of Youtube/vlog fame and fortune."


"Most of art-house filmmakers look abroad to get funds from labs and such, as others look to private investors whom they know personally. For short filmmakers, we usually goes to a small number of companies in the entertainment industry for funds, which usually requires an exchange for logo and product placements. Otherwise, many just choose to funds their own films. Also, Cambodia still lacks a film school, so young filmmakers tend to learn by themselves or from the seniors who also mostly didn't go to school. Although, you don't have to go to school to be a filmmaker, the current generations lacks the basics and the know-how especially in directing, and in story writing."

Interview by Jeremy Sing

February Wind was screened under S-Express at the 2019 SeaShorts Film Festival and also won Best Short Film the 2018 Chaktomuk Short Film Festival.

ShoutOUT! Singapore International Film Festival goes back to its roots for its 30th edition

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Something Old, New, Borrowed and Blue

The Singapore International Film Festival (SGIFF), which will run from 21 November to 1 December 2019, hits its 30th milestone this year and to celebrate that, it has commissioned three short films anchored on the theme of celebration, by Southeast Asian directors Yeo Siew Hua (Singapore), Mouly Surya (Indonesia) and Anucha Boonyawatana (Thailand). According to SGIFF's Executive Director Yuni Hadi, this commission series is both a gesture by the Festival to enable filmmakers to experiment and grow the regional scene, and an avenue to introducing the texture of life in Southeast Asia to the wider audience. SGIFF will remain committed to providing a platform for the diverse voices of Southeast Asia to be heard through film. 

 

Yeo Siew Hua’s short film Incantation (2019) explores the complexity of human connections, by returning to his experimental roots where he delves into the age-old rituals of ancient spells, spirits and the idea of resurrection during Hungry Ghost Festival. Mouly Surya’s Something Old, New, Borrowed and Blue (2019) uses wry humour to present a forward-looking take of gender roles in today’s society through the intimate interactions between a mother and a bride-to-be at a traditional wedding procession; while Anucha Boonyawatana’s Not A Time to Celebrate (2019) provides a light-hearted and cheeky take to both the rewards and harsh reality of filmmaking while offering a salute to the craft. 


Incantation

Not A Time to Celebrate

The three filmmakers are also no strangers to the Festival. Yeo Siew Hua premiered his award-winning A Land Imagined, which became the first Singaporean film to win Best Film at the Festival’s Silver Screen Awards, under the Asian Feature Film Competition; Mouly Surya presented her Cannes title Marlina the Murderer in Four Acts; while Anucha Boonyawatana was conferred the Best Director at the Silver Screen Award for Malila: The Farewell Flower. 

The Festival will also spotlight Southeast Asia cinema in its Focus series titled 'Stories We Tell: Myth, Dreamscape and Memory in Southeast Asian Cinema', comprising four Southeast Asian films that reflect the recurring theme of imaginative fantasies, dreamlike impressions, and folkloric memories in its storytelling. 

Mysterious Object at Noon

Mysterious Object at Noon (2000) by Thai award-winning filmmaker Apichatpong Weerasethakul and Lucky 7 (2008) directed by seven Singapore filmmakers Sun Koh, Rajagopal, Boo Junfeng, Brian Gothong Tan, Chew Tze Chuan, Ho Tzu Nyen, and Tania Sng stand out with their use of the exquisite corpse, a filmmaking technique where a collection of words or images is assembled by each contributor who is unaware of the full extent of the preceding part. The black and white debut feature of Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Mysterious Object at Noon (2000), weaves a tapestry of subjective stories to collectively tell the tale of Thailand, while Lucky 7 (2008) takes viewers through a kaleidoscope of fragmented stories that reveal a deeper anxiety towards creativity, fantasy, and repression that segue across genres such as social drama, musical and thriller.

Lucky 7



A Short Film About the Indio Nacional

Acclaimed Filipino director, Raya Martin’s debut film A Short Film About the Indio Nacional (2005) reshapes the history of the Philippines based on his subjective meditation on national myth, colonial power and revolution as it unfolds into a faux silent movie. At a time where propaganda films seek to erase the cruel history of the Khmer Rouge, Cambodian filmmaker Rithy Panh’s The Missing Picture (2013) recounts the indelible mental pictures of what he saw during the event to remind people of the atrocities that happened in his country. Each film contributes to an exploration of a collective consciousness – or perhaps subconscious – that pervades Southeast Asian cinema and turning it into a dreamscape. 

The Missing Picture

SGIFF Programme Director Kuo Ming-Jung said, “Filmmaking provides an avenue for stories that we imagine and dream about to become reality. Our Focus programme this year reflects the unique storytelling style of Southeast Asian filmmakers, where the juxtaposition of real and unreal, objective and subjective, myth, memory and imagination conjures its own resonances. Collectively, they enrich our understanding of the world around us through the imagination and collective dreams of these filmmakers.” 

Screenings aside, the SGIFF’s Southeast Asian Producers Network continues its programme this year where over a three-day period, 25 invited producers and established professionals from Singapore and Southeast Asia, including Tran Thi Bich Ngoc, Vietnamese veteran producer and co-founder of Autumn Meeting, and Xie Meng, CEO of Beijing-based Rediance will engage in dialogue and seek opportunities for collaboration. Through roundtable sessions, talks and case study presentations, they will discuss pertinent topics relating to the latest developments and strategies of content production in the region.

In parallel to the festival, the Southeast Asian Film Financing (SAFF) Project Market, organised by ScreenSingapore in partnership with the Southeast Asia Audio-Visual Association (SAAVA), returns this year to connect promising project ideas to potential investors and financiers. Laotian director Mattie Do's The Long Walk, was a finalist at the inaugural SAFF Project Market in 2015. The film is presently making waves in the international festival circuit to high acclaim, most recently at the Venice International Film Festival and Toronto Film Festival. 

SGIFF has also gathered nine local film and media personalities including Fiona Xie and Oon Shu Ann, alongside filmmakers such as Kirsten Tan, to share their self-portraits inspired by nature, at a mixed-media exhibition, Nature’s Playground, held at Gardens by the Bay as it celebrates 30 editions of championing local storytellers and their creative narratives. 


The full Festival line-up and ticketing details will be announced on 22 October 2019. SGIFF is an event of the Singapore Media Festival (SMF), hosted by Info-communications Media Development Authority of Singapore (IMDA). 

SGIFF 2019’s Official Sponsors include Official Red Carpet Venue Capitol Theatre; Official Automobile BMW; and Official Hotel Shangri-La Hotel Singapore. et Venue Capitol Theatre; Official Automobile BMW; and Official Hotel Shangri-La Hotel Singapore. 

Review: Insanely Infatuated With Someone At The Most Inappropriate Time by Nirartha Bas Diwangkara

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Lightness transitions into denser spaces as the film goes along.

A sense of freedom and fresh air from a young girl's bedroom quickly twists into suffocation, and by the end I am left to gasp for air, coughing from the dirt and dust of an abandoned shelter with a kept 'prisoner'. Insanely Infatuated With Someone At The Most Inappropriate Time goes into the spectrum of what puberty brings about in terms of sex, intimacy and romance. With innocence and curiosity comes the forbidden and temptation, and this film has no qualms in giving us a glimpse of the darker and misunderstood.

Touch is emphasised in several scenes, with bare skin coming into intimate contact with various textures — a bolster, a clear window, a vandalised table and another person's bare body. Sensuality comes through in the careful pacing of slowness and hypnotic rhythm, leading you into a trance of the moment, before it is broken by an external interruption. 

Director Nirartha Bas Diwangkara shares, "The idea of touching is very crucial in this film because the main character (Gunggek) is trying to 'feel' her imaginations and through this sensation of touching, the character is trying to satisfy or feed her curiosity of kissing and sex in real life. In this stage, Gunggek is confused to her sexual needs and is very desperate to be in love, and touching gives her a lesson to be prepared, if someday she has a proper relationship with someone. It is a channel of self-sex education for her."

Young and unsure of her newfound instincts, Gunggek finds herself in a strange attraction to her mentally ill uncle, who is severely misunderstood due to his needs and is found alone a lot of the times. Thinking about it, I am unsure if attraction is the word I will use since he is probably the first option that is unable to tell or read into Gunggek's intentions and urges. This keeps her exploration safe and private in possibly the only way she knows how.

This leads me to empathise with the young female protagonist. Her sense of loneliness, frustration and the shedding of innocence fills the silences in the film, and her eyes always find themselves looking at a far off place; dazed and glazed over.



It is no doubt that sex, sexuality and intimacy are topics we in Southeast Asia still do not address in very forthcoming ways. But the other issue of importance that we sweep under the carpet as well will be mental health and illness, which is another theme featured in this short film.

These are not new issues, and yet we struggle to address them in constructive ways. Why?

"I think I only can speak in term of Balinese society through what I understand. I think as Balinese, we need to look good and perfect, it applies for ourselves (from our job, what are you wearing, how much you earned, etc.) and the family we are from (what caste you are from, are you from a 'good' family, etc.)," reveals Nirartha.

"These attributes will help you be socially accepted in certain categories. Because Balinese are very communal and family oriented, we need to behave or you and your family will be labeled by the society, and people with mental illness often are associated with bad karma and bring bad influences (both physical and energy) to the society. There is not much self-initiated effort from people in Bali to learn what is the importance of sex education or mental health because these themes are considered very sensitive.  

Family who their member has a mental illness are often fighting alone without a support system from the direct community. The simple solution is to cage or tie them up or bring them to overcrowded mental hospital. This process is very tiring because our lives are full of commitment to ceremonies, community services and our own personal lives with other domestic family matters."

Although more campaigns on sex education and mental health awareness have emerged in Bali recently, Nirartha ponders that perhaps Balinese people still do not think that these are priorities in their lives yet, or still fear that others will think negatively about them and their families. 

Then I wonder what the role of film could possibly do to help this movement of more openness and support to grow in Bali. Although I personally feel that the portrayal of a Schizophrenic man as hallucinating and constantly laughter-induced to be superficial and caricature-like, which may not help real people who are diagnosed with a similar diagnosis, I do applaud the choice to address such hard-hitting issues.


With the heavy themes involved and Balinese society still adverse to such topics, casting proved difficult for Nirartha: "I realized that not many people are willing to work with these themes, especially for the sexual awareness theme. I was so lucky to meet and asked Riska to played Gunggek's character, especially where they were in the same age and the same 'caste.' I am also discussing social class in Bali, where we have complicated gap between economy class and status holder (such as caste system). I think expectations from our own family in Bali is very demanding, where a girl from a high caste is expected to be paired with the same one or the higher one, and it already planted since young age. Not all family with higher caste is privileged enough with money and this also plays a role in this film where the schizophrenic uncle is claimed himself to be rich and educated in order to be respected as a whole in the society.  

In preparing for the role, I just want them to be comfortable with the roles and I can achieved this with deep discussion of what the context of the story and who is the characters. For the schizophrenic uncle, I took my actor and my producer to Bali's only mental hospital in Bangli region and an independent organization in Denpasar that dealing with people with schizophrenia in order to have a full picture of the real condition and experience to be around people with mental illness."

Complex with the small details going on to serve the film in revelation of themes addressed, the theme of social class and economic status is lost on me when I first sat through the film since I have no prior knowledge of Balinese society. However, I do have a clearer picture now and am in awe for how a short film can speak so much about the times we live in today. 
  
Ending the interview on Insanely Infatuated With Someone At The Most Inappropriate Time, Nirartha shares that he hopes people are able to see beyond Bali's reputation as a favourite leisure and spiritual destination. Beneath the continued glorification of Bali's traditional culture and tourist attractions do hurt the people living there, and I cannot agree more. After all, perhaps art is best when revealing and holding onto hope that healing will begin with more people seeing the presented truths. 

"Balinese are human too. They have their own issues and often we do not talk about it because it is not comforting enough. What we need now as a society in Bali is to discuss more contemporary issues in order to reflect and recognising the problem."

Review: Hamster Wheel by Danial Azeez @SeaShorts

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Brunei. Land of rich oil reserves. The occasional news about its royalty. And more recently, the introduction of Sharia Law. Makes one wonder what filmmakers in Brunei wrap their heads around? What stories interest them or what fascinates filmmakers there? The 2019 SeaShorts Film Festival in Melaka took a step further to ensure there were film entries from each of the 10 countries that make up ASEAN. The Bruneians did not disappoint and programmer Nurain Abdullah put together a basket of nine short films for S-Express Brunei. Part of our single-dip series of shorts films from each of the 10 countries, we spoke to filmmaker Danial Azeez about his film Hamster Wheel.

Hamster Wheel is a genre short film that seems a hybrid between a thriller, horror and even a zombie flick. It tells the story of a young man who is trying to forget about his relationship post-break up. But the shadow of that relationship clings on to him and it is almost literally represented by the presence of a doppelganger. The doppelganger, zombie-like in its presence, and chillingly single-minded in its pursuit of the protagonist, becomes a target for the protagonist's violent chops. Note that at this point, the film has already crossed at least 3 genres, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell who was the real McCoy and who was the doppelganger. Perhaps that was intentional?


Director Danial makes no secret about his love for the action/thriller genre from the film's preoccupation with action. Poor girl, you were not the reason why he could not let the relationship go! He loves himself too much, if I were to offer a tongue-in-cheek interpolation of the film. The film could up the ante on production design, fight choreography and gore quotient, though it did offer a novel take on dealing with a break-up, mostly from a lad's point of view. 


Danial answered a few burning questions from us about the making of Hamster Wheel and filmmaking in general in Brunei.

How did you get into filmmaking? 

I was always interest in movies and series since I was a kid and after high school I took a gap year just to figure what I wanted to do. Filmmaking wasn't really an ideal path but I cant seem to see my self doing anything else other then serving coffee in a cafe, not that I wont enjoy serving people coffee I just enjoy it more if I have my own coffee and drinking all 15 cups on set. Luckily for me I am in a local film production company (Filterworks productions) that provides opportunities for something I can continue create whether its short films, series or a comedy sketch. 

What is the film industry like in Brunei? Also how is the independent filmmaking scene like in Brunei? 

I would say it is growing because the of the number of Bruneians  who have a huge interest in movies and that helps create an impact in the film industry, having Bruneians showcasing their films in festivals around ASEAN countries helps us feel like we can be part of this industry. 

How did the idea of doppelgängers come about in this short film about dealing with a break up? 

The idea behind this concept was that the protagonist tries to hide his insecurities and deals with a-lot of self sabotage hence the multiple versions of himself, so I tried to make it visual. The girl is a huge part of why he is in that loop of self sabotage, he blames himself on why the relationship didn't work. This is a non linear story line so the ending isn't really an ending, you can even hear the same creak of the wooden candas (a local utensil we use to eat ambuyat) from the beginning and the end. 

Are you a fan of certain genres? This film seems to cross a few, including action and horror and even zombie... even though it is not exactly a zombie in the film. 

I don't have a specific genre, but if I would have to choose - Quentin Tarantino. That's an interesting perspective on the protagonist being a zombie, not gonna say you're wrong because I believe when you publish a film its no longer yours its the viewers - the audience take on the film, I find this more interesting than when a story is straightforward. So yea sure it's a zombie film. 

What kind of genres or styles are popular amongst independent filmmakers in Brunei? 

Horror, comedy and horror comedy. 


What are the biggest challenges facing independent filmmakers in Brunei? How do these films find funding? 

Depending on the filmmakers but I think maybe resources like location or talents for me at-least are difficult. Hmm funding? What's that? Hahah... umm I would say go to a small but known film production house and pitch them your idea and if they love it and trust you, they might just provide you equipment with crew and some food and maybe their talent pool and I think that's a huge help already. 

In the light of Brunei introducing harsher laws for things like sexual misconduct, is there heavy censorship in Brunei? What type of content usually gets censored? 

Oh tough question, not sure I am the right person for this question. The censorship practice here is kinda tricky like I don't really know. Sometimes it just take one person to say " Woah I feel like that is wrong to show, let's complain", then that would cause it to be censored. The touching of the opposite sex i.e. kissing, touching hands, sitting on the same bed in a bedroom even though you are actually married to the person whom you're acting with, no mention of the royalty, politics, religion and that's what I know so far, I might have missed out on some. 

Interview by Jeremy Sing

Review: No Data Plan (2018)

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No Data Plan feels like a dream. No. It feels like a series of consecutive dreams. It immerses you in the journey depicted and each time a new voice speaks, it feels like you are recalling this from a friend or an acquaintance from the past and your subconscious is bringing their voice and their story up as you sleep on the train you're on, travelling from LA to New York, across America. Their stories conjure up images of places you used to know, of faraway lands, and of hopes and dreams which may or may not have been achieved. 

And constantly, you are moving.




No Data Plan, in its essence, is a story about migration. It is about travelling from one place to another and the social, mental, and emotional implications this can have on the traveler.

The most interesting part about No Data Plan is the narration. Mainstream movies often contain a disembodied voice which explains the backstory of the plot and speaks directly to the audience. No Data Plan has one of these.

Sort of.

Because the voice over in the movie is, well, voiceless. There is detachment and unrecognizability in the narration, yet there is intimacy and a sense of companionship. In No Data Plan, the voiceover, or the device which serves the same purpose, is presented just as subtitles. The lack of auditory stimulation within in the story can be seen to add or take away from the story. It seems to be shrouded in a sense of secrecy, that the revealing of the narrator’s voice might lead them into trouble, or be an invasion of privacy.
This adds to the story he is telling because it helps the audience understand what might be at stake. Simultaneously, it takes away from the story because it prohibits the reader to fully connect to the narrator. If we were able to hear the inflection, the emotion, and the pauses within the narrator’s speech, it would be easier to pick apart his character.

The voiceless narrator recounts his discovery of his mother’s affair and the aftermath. Throughout the narrator’s silent voice over, it is difficult to uncover what his true feelings towards their mother’s affair are. Early on, it is possible that the narrator is understanding and civil, but after awhile it becomes clear that this might not be entirely the case. Both the narrator’s father and mother have been having affairs and when the subtitles reveal that the man his mother had been sleeping with might even be younger than the man himself he wants to “punch him in the face.''

No Data Plan get’s its title from the narration. Early on, the narrator tells us that “Mama has two phones. We do not talk about immigration on her Obama phone. For that we use the other number with no data plan.” This quote shows the need for a dual identity. To hide away part of who we are and what we do because of who might be watching.






No Data Plan takes you on a journey. Director Miko Revereza often chooses to shoot from the back of the train he is travelling in, and lets you feel as if you are on the train yourself, immersing you in the sounds of motion and the train tracks and the silence within the dead of night. For minutes on end, Revereza lets you watch the lights disappear into the distance or watch the end of a tunnel grow smaller and smaller until it is barely visible. And then you exit and ride back into the light.
Honestly, it was incredibly therapeutic to watch. There’s something about letting yourself become submerged in the feeling of travelling that is fiercely soothing.




However, No Data Plan also serves another purpose. Throughout the movie, Revereza includes monologues from various unseen characters who speak about seemingly unrelated topics. One girl recounts her younger sibling’s plan to become famous, while another character describes a conversation they had with their mother about why their family left the Philippines. But there is one idea which each of the characters’ stories contain: hope. People are sharing close thoughts, dreams, and histories reminding of the outside world which is not contained within the confines of the train.

We hear from so many characters about so many different things, but all are reminiscent of that all too human feeling of retrospect. These are the some of the only voices we hear in the movie. They are a break from the soothing, but ultimately lonely ride that we are on. The multitude of voices tell stories of the American dream, overlayed with imagery of the changing landscape as we go from city to city. Some are happy, some are melancholy, some bittersweet. All are powerful.




Near the end, Revereza films himself as he suspects ICE agents are looking for him. He is as much a part of this story as the disembodied voices and the silent narration.
He takes shots of his phone and his Instagram stories, where he marks out in large print the cars he thinks the agents are using. One is a plain clothes agent while the other is uniformed. He speaks closely to the camera, as if telling he is telling you an intimate secret. His voice slightly panicked, his expression haunted.
It makes you wonder how he made this film, but also shows that technology and social media have such high influence on immigration. Revereza shares his fears which his Instagram followers, which helps to show them what the ICE vehicles might look like and the fact that they will come from all places.

But it is difficult to connect the stories to each other. They are beautiful and moving, but string together sparingly. It takes some effort to digest No Data Plan. Obviously, it is not very often that a movie asks you to read. To actively watch No Data Plan, you need to tap into senses which you are often not asked to tap into when watching a movie in a language you are familiar with. If you are willing to put in the effort, it is worth it.

But that is not to say that it is easy to get through.

Immigration has become a growing issue for our world. We see people being driven out of their homes, away from their loved ones and towards uncertainties at an increasing rate. We see countries locking up their borders from those refugees in fear that they will suck up resources and are unable to aid the country. We see people turn a blind eye to these issues, pretending that they do not exist because they are not a part of it.

Revereza chooses to shine a bright light on not just one, but many stories which take a snapshot of the lives of these people. He shows that they have worries and fears and, most importantly, a life and character beyond just being “an immigrant” or “a refugee”. He is documenting the undocumented and with it powerfully portraying the fragile state of migration within America.




No Data Plan is a polarizing movie. Where some will wonder what it is trying to say and lose interest, others will be able to take something away from it. An honest and brutal, if restricted, depiction of what it is like to be undocumented in America. Is there space in the grand narrative for them?

Review by Valerie Tan

The film has been screened at International Film Festival Rotterdam and the Yamagata Documentary Film Festival. It will be screening at the QCinema International Film Festival currently held in Quezon City, Philippines.

ShoutOUT! Head down to *SCAPE for Viddsee's 2nd Juree Awards Singapore

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Head down to *SCAPE today for a weekend of film, fun and workshops. Viddsee's three-day Juree Singapore Awards Programme features a number of activities including talks, and screenings that are open to the public. Among them include panel discussions on storytelling to the woke, better personal branding for filmmakers, and championing unheard voices. Check out the full programme line-up here.

Most of all, don't miss the screening and awards ceremony of the 2nd Juree Awards Singapore on Sunday 20 October. Ten heartfelt, imaginative and entertaining stories are vying for the honours. The nominated films were submitted by a range of independent filmmakers, from more experienced directors like Eva Tang, whose films were selected for Venice Film Festival and TorinoFilmLab, and Mei Ann Teo, whose films have been included in Festival de Liege, M1 Singapore Fringe Festival, and the Montreal World Film Festival. As with last year, student films from Temasek Polytechnic and Lasalle College of the Arts made up a majority of this year’s finalists, including those from Pocholo Dela Cruz, Lew Kee Wen, Jastine Tan, and Anja Dimova, to name a few.

The Veiled Willow

The films cover a wide range of subjects, such as family relationships, love, and artificial intelligence told across various genres of drama, sci-fi and musicals. Among them include a cancer-stricken mother who has to teach her Down’s Syndrome son how to survive on his own (​Sleep Well, Mother​ co-directed by Kee Wen Lew and Claire Tan See Lin); a coming-of-age tale of a high-school band preparing for the night of their lives (​The Prom Bomb​ by Pocholo Dela Cruz); a story of a grieving husband who falls in love with his AI assistant (​All About Evee​); and a teenager who deals with her mother’s abuse by imagining fantastical ways to kill her (​Let Me Kill My Mother First by Mei Ann Teo).

Sleep Well, Mother

The Prom Bomb

All About Evee

Let Me Kill My Mother First

Other entries include ​Up In The Air​ by Bernadus A. Chandra, ​Blood Taxi​ by Anja Dimova, Separation (Pepisahan)​ by Nur Elaika Binte Zukhiruallah; ​O Meri Jaane Jaan (O My Beloved​) by Jastine Tan; ​Breakdown by Gabriel Isaac Goh; and ​The Veiled Willow by Eva Tang.

Up in the Air


Blood Taxi


Separation (Pepisahan)​


O Meri Jaane Jaan (O My Beloved​)

Breakdown

Two top entries will be named the Gold and Silver winners, who will be picked by an international panel of judges that comprises ​Tim Redford​, who is part of the Executive Team of Clermont-Ferrand Short Film Festival and sits on the board of the Short Film Conference; ​Kattie Fan​, the festival director of ifva – a short film and media art awards and festival organised by the Hong Kong Arts Centre; and ​Sanif Olek​, a film and television director whose film Sayang Disayang was Singapore’s first official entry to the 2015 Oscars® (Best Foreign Language Film).

The Gold winner will be awarded film a production grant worth SGD10,000 and a five-day Global Film & TV Program in Los Angeles sponsored by the Motion Picture Association.

In addition to the grant, the Gold winner received a 14-day loan for RED Digital Cinema camera equipment with a five-lens set of ZEISS CP.3 Lenses, while the Silver winner received a 14-day loan of RED Digital Cinema camera equipment and the ZEISS Light Weight Zoom LWZ.3 21-100mm lens. Gold and Silver winners will also receive a 14-day loan for Sachtler tripod system and Litepanels LED products provided by Vitec.

City Music will provide the Gold winner with a Zoom F4 Field Recorder, and the Silver winner with a Zoom H6 Handy Recorder. Iceberg Studios will offer the Gold winner post-production services for a short film and the Silver winner offline post-production services for a short film. The post-production services include colour grading sponsored by Eugene Seah.

The public can learn more about the Juree Singapore Awards Programme, as well as watch all nominated and other out-of-competition films for free on https://www.viddsee.com/channel/juree/singapore2019

On Grief, Ritual, and Displacement: An Interview with Siyou Tan on 'Hello Ahma' (2019)

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Siyou Tan’s Hello Ahma (2019) opens with FaceTime footage. We see an eight-year-old Singaporean girl later revealed to be named Michelle (played by Sofie Yu Xuan Yang) in the corner, watching as a cremation unfolds. Her brow furrowed, the camera pans out, and we see her laying down, smartphone in her hands as she says, “Ahma” (grandmother) out loud. Bathed in a warm glow, she watches as the procession takes place and is asked by an unnamed girlish voice on the other end of the line, “Do you think she can still reincarnate?” The scene cuts to a turtle wading in shallow water.

Funerary rituals are often communal by design, prompting a gathering of both familiar and unfamiliar faces––the result is a shared expression and experience of grief. However, grief in the modern world is perhaps aided, as much as exacerbated, by the advent of technology. No longer bound to one’s physical location, an affair as intimate as a cremation or a funeral procession can become an experience felt beyond borders, though admittedly reduced to pixels on a screen. As a passive viewer, the experience is thusly rendered distant, almost surreal and bordering on the unreal. 


Tan conveys the struggles of internationalism and globalism well in her short film. I'd experienced the bureaucracies of immigration too many times to count and there's nothing worse than having that coincide with a death in the family. Filmed as a personal tribute to her own grandmother, it turns out that Michelle's predicament is not so far from what Tan herself had experienced when her grandmother had passed away in Singapore while she was in the United States. Her inability to leave the country due to visa restrictions closely mirrors Michelle and her family's inability to attend the cremation due to passports that hadn't been renewed in time. Instead, they are left stranded within the confines of their new life in America, forced to contend with the realities of grief from afar.

Despite the move, Michelle's family carries traditions with them––an commemorative altar in their home is flanked by candles, mandarins, and Ahma’s favourite chocolates. In her childishness, Michelle takes a chocolate––the significance of traditions and ritual seldom translate fully into childhood, much like grief and sadness. Perhaps, in the naivety of childhood, an interpretation of reincarnation leads her to identify a turtle at a pet store as her grandmother. She decorates its tank with a drawing of her family and speaks to it, calling it Ahma. Her mother instead says one evening, “I only have one mother”. The manner in which grief is processed and dealt with is more than just a ritualistic goodbye, as the family engages in towards the end of the film, but as they say, a matter of acceptance, in whatever shape or form. Letting go, be it the sweeping of ashes or releasing a turtle into the wild are but a few examples and those that Tan’s film touches upon with great care. 


There are little touches I especially adore in the film, an attention to detail placed toward both image and sound. In one, you hear Michelle’s steps as she wears the oversized sandals that her Ahma gifted to her, clacking across the hardwood floors in her home––in view, the burning incense sticks and her Ahma’s portrait on the wall. The sound of crickets and the cooing of Asian Koel bird fills the evening air, reminiscent of a natural soundtrack that belongs more so in Singapore than America (and as Tan explains in our Q&A below, this was in fact intentional). Such details convey the intrusion of the past and a psychological yearning for a place that one so deeply desires to return to, but is unable to. The way they come to permeate present circumstances mirrors the manner in which grief as much as guilt can be so pervasive. 

At a little over 15 minutes, Hello Ahma is a thoughtful mediation on the nature of grief and how it manifests in the eyes of a young girl who finds herself displaced from familiarity. It's also a story about the realities of immigration and the many moments––both banal as much as significant––that one comes to miss. For myself, reviewing Hello Ahma struck a chord for many reasons as I, too, recently found myself in the same position as Michelle earlier this summer. All I had were images and videos to go by as proof that this loss in my life had in fact happened. Even weeks on, it didn't quite feel all too real.

Loss truly is a fickle thing––we know the sensation well, or eventually, we all do, when the performative traditions are unable to fill the void and we are tempted to find those we’ve lost in some of the strangest places––be it a turtle, or something else.


SINdie took the time to speak with Siyou Tan to discuss he story behind Hello Ahma. Read on for more.

SINdie: Hello Ahma is arguably a film about how grief is processed differently by individuals, and I find that we see it best when you contrast the scenes of Michelle versus her mother. What was the inspiration behind this short film?

ST: The inspiration is from many years ago when my Ahma passed away in Singapore. At that time, I just moved to Los Angeles after graduation, and I was on a visa that prevented re-entry to the US if I left. Ahma passed away quite suddenly, and jobless, far away and with the visa complication, I missed Ahma's funeral. With both working parents, Ahma was a huge figure in my childhood, and I felt very guilty that I wasn't able to be there for her final goodbye. This grief and guilt stayed with my for many years, and so when I had the chance to make a film on a larger level, I wanted to make a love letter to Ahma and my family in general.

SINdie: Symbolically, I know that in Chinese cultures, the tortoise/turtle carries allusions of longevity and tenacity. Is there a specific reason why you chose a turtle?

ST: In the temple in Singapore where I used to go, there's a large pond outside the main hall where turtles bask. I returned to that image when I was thinking about this idea. And after that, I thought that turtles are quite fitting and not too far fetched. They're kinda wrinkly, move at a stately pace, and just seem quite kindly in general... and so, reminded me of my Ahma.


SINdie: In watching the film, I felt that colour plays a critical role in conveying mood and atmosphere––the blue-hued shots compared the the warmth in the opening scene was very evident for me as a viewer. Did you have any references/inspiration from a cinematographic standpoint? 
ST: Yes, lots! For films, Hou Hsiao Hsien's The Time to Live and the Time to Die, Kiyoshi Kurosawa's Tokyo Sonata, and Kore-eda's films in general. Also Carla Simón's Summer 1993, Lucía Puenzo's XXY and Sean Baker's The Florida Project. I also love Ed Lachman, Mark Lee and Łukasz Żal's cinematography.

SINdie: Sound also appears to play an important role––with Michelle clacking away on the hardwood floors of her home as she wore the slippers her grandmother gave her accompanied by a shot of her grandmother's portrait. I also noticed the sound of the Asian Koel bird in some scenes as well as crickets, that seem more reminiscent of Singapore than America. Was this intentional?
ST: Yes this is intentional! Thank you for noticing. I had to shoot the film in Los Angeles under very strict restrictions, and although the film is set in America,  I wanted to convey the sense of Singapore through the choices in sound design, and populate the film with sounds of Singapore as a place the family yearns for but cannot return to.

Whenever I come home to hot, humid Singapore, it is such a huge juxtaposition from dry Los Angeles, sonically. Singapore teems with life in its heat and humidity, and I miss the sounds of trees swaying, insects, and the Koel (which I used to hate every morning at 5am, ha). I wrote the script to these sounds, and in a way, I guess I was also trying to convey the girl (and my) homesickness through this.

Sound is very important to me, and I had to fight AFI to extend my deadline as I wanted to do my sound in Singapore, and luckily for me, the scheduling stars aligned and I was able to work with Nikola and his team at Mocha Chai (shout out to Grace, Ye Min, Jossy, Amelia!) on this. We had our AFI showcase at the Samuel Goldwyn theater, and with its crazy amazing projection and great speakers, I really felt the film through its sound design.

Hello Ahma recently had its worldwide premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival as part of its Short Cuts Programme.

Melissa Noelle Esguerra is a multifaceted writer who likes to explore all things pertaining to art, film, culture, and literature. She obtained her BA (Hons) in English Language & Literature with a minor in Linguistics from New York University. After having spent the last four years in New York City, she now resides in Singapore. 

ShoutOUT! SGIFF announces full line-up, 'Downtown Abbey''Nina Wu' special presentations, and Kore-eda's 'The Truth' as Closing Film

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Singapore, Singapore - The Singapore International Film Festival (SGIFF) has released its full lineup during its media conference at Shangri-La Hotel. Featuring more than 90 titles from over 40 countries distributed over 12 programmes, the 30th edition of SGIFF includes 17 Singapore films such as Shoki Lin's ADAM, Jerrold Chong and Huang Junxiang's Piece of Meat, both of which premiered in Cannes, and the omnibus feature film Lucky7 by directors Sun Koh, K. Rajagopal, Boo Junfeng, Brian Gothong Tan, Chew Tze Chuan, Ho Tzu Nyen and Tania Sng.


 The Science of Fictions

In competition this year are feature titles such as Indonesian filmmaker Yosep Anggi Noen's The Science of Fictions which premiered at Locarno and showed at Busan, Filipino filmmaker Raymund Ribay Gutierrez's debut feature Verdict, which received the Special Jury Prize at the Venice Film Festival, and Indian filmmaker Gitanjali Rao's debut feature Bombay Rose. Meanwhile short films in competition this year include Thai artist Chulayarnnon Siriphol's Birth of Golden Snail, Vietnamese filmmaker Duong Dieu Linh's Sweet, Salty which premiered at Busan, Singaporean filmmaker Kris Ong's Sunday, and Thai filmmaker Sorayos Prapapan's Dossier of the Dossier.


Verdict

In addition to SGIFF's two competitive segments, this edition also presents a special programme on Contemporary Vietnamese Shorts under the Asian Vision section, which spotlights fresh feature works by both auteurs and new talents within Asia. The special programme includes short/cut by filmmaker Ostin Fam, who is a recipient of the SGIFF Southeast Asian-Short Film Grant under the inaugural SGIFF Film Fund, as well as Blessed Land, by SGIFF Southeast Asian Film Lab alumnus Pham Ngoc Lan.

The SGIFF mainstay programme Classics also returns this year with two contemporary selections, the newly-restored Flowers of Shanghai by legendary Taiwanese auteur Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Palme d’Or winner Bong Joon-Ho's 2003 thriller Memories of Murder.



The Truth


Nina Wu

The Special Presentation titles for this edition include the beloved film addition of hit series Downton Abbey directed by American filmmaker Michael Engler, the Cannes premiering psychological thriller Nina Wu from Taiwanese filmmaker Midi Z, and Japanese auteur Hirokazu Kore-eda's latest The Truth starring Catherine Deneuve and Juliette Binoche.




Japanese filmmaker Takashi Miike (picture above), known for the hyper violent cult hit Ichi the Killer, would receive this year's Honorary Award, while Chinese actress Yao Chen (picture below) will be conferred the Cinema Icon Award. Yao will also present Send Me the Clouds by director Teng Congcong which Yao starred in and produced. Malaysian actress Yeo Yann Yann who starred in both of Camera d'Or winner Anthony Chen's films will received the Inspiring Woman in Film Award, presented by Swarovski in recognition for her long career across film, television, and theatre.




Running from 21 November to 1 December 2019, #SGIFF30 will be hosted across multiple Festival venues including Capitol Theatre, National Museum of Singapore, National Gallery Singapore, Oldham Theatre at the National Archives Singapore, and Objectifs amongst others.

More information and direct ticketing available on the SGIFF website.

Review: 一路來 // Through the Border (2018)

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When faced with the awareness of one’s own impending mortality, learning how to navigate this newfound knowledge must be perplexing. Teo Qi Yu’s 一路來, or Through the Border, rests on this premise. Screened at the Yamagata Documentary Festival 2019, 一路來 traces the story of Teo's grandfather, affectionately trailing the last few months of her grandfather’s life in a documentary-styled short film. The film explores what defines a home, as well as investigates one’s family history and their own sense of belonging.



The film's compositional sense is reflected in its overall minimalistic style. Many scenes comprise of exploring the social environments which Teo’s grandfather frequent, often with static encounters overlayed with voice-overs or narrated conversations. Occasionally, memorabilia such as old photographs of Teo’s grandfather in his heyday are brought out, providing deeper context to the life of Teo’s grandfather and allowing viewers to compare the living circumstances of the past to the present.



Exploring one’s ancestry can be a boggling task, but Teo steers away from dry historiographical investigations and instead vouches for something more personal. Through multiple interviews and spoken conversations with the grandfather and close family members, Teo explores her grandfather’s past through these verbal vignettes of his past. Expect less of a historical documentary per se, but look forward to personal recounts of shared and collective familial histories. The film’s key focus revolves around the sense of belonging that Teo’s grandfather still possess towards China, and the personal relations that exist between him and his family. As such, the documentary’s strength lies in establishing a close connection between audiences and the grandfather with all these anecdotal stories of his nostalgic past. We identify more closely with Teo’s grandfather as a person, rather than as mere case study of the older generation.



As we learn about the nature of his work in his electronics shop business, Teo’s grandfather explains the differences that arise over the generations then and now. One such difference which is a mounting obstacle is the prevalent use of English as the predominant language of the customer, which Teo’s grandfather is not linguistically familiar with. Despite these challenges, Teo’s grandfather simply states: “We still have to continue the business. What else can we do?” This is part of the film’s appeal: its ability to shed light on how tenacious attitudes enable certain systems of the old to continue to exist amidst the currents of the new. 





Yet, the film resists any sense of melodrama. As such, the tone of the film is gentle and warm; perhaps even inviting to the viewer. This is made clear right from the opening scene: in response to learning about his diagnosis, the grandfather humorously tells his wife that she will no longer have the chance to scold him anymore as he only has a few months left to live. The grandfather’s stories of his difficult journey from China to Singapore is also painted in a similar tone, as he explains in a humored voice that he was faced with only $10 in his pocket, which got lost along the way. In spite of the harsh circumstances then and now, Teo’s grandfather maintains a sense of peace: he laughs, he jokes, and most of all he recounts and reflects in a profoundly endearing manner.


Running at just 29 minutes long, 一路來 captures reality at its most visceral and serves as a heartfelt tribute to Teo’s grandfather. Ultimately, the film addresses the question posed at the beginning: how should we handle the awareness of our own mortality? Teo’s film hints at an answer: by celebrating a life well-lived.

We caught up with director and producer of 一路來, Teo Qiyu, to trace her experience making this short film in our interview with her.


How long did the project span?

I started shooting towards the end of 2014. After my grandfather passed away in mid 2015, I left it for about 2 years before I started editing again. I shot more footage thereafter and finally completed it in 2018.

How did your grandfather initially react to the project idea?

I did not propose any film idea to him. I simply told him I would like to document him and his shop. I can't exactly remember his reaction, but probably there wasn't much of a reaction at all.

What was the filming process of capturing a person’s life like? Were there any difficulties in effectively capturing the story of your grandfather on film?

I guess living with my grandfather for the past 20 years, I knew his present life pretty well, I was able to decide which aspect of his life I would like to capture and present it to the audience. I guess there were a few challenges, one if it is to decide if I wanted to be a director, or a granddaughter. In capturing his life, I cannot be both. I started the journey being a director, doing my best not to interfere with his life and observing him from afar.

However, as his illness got worse, I was unable to do that anymore and had to put down the camera. Another challenge is the emotional stress especially after he has passed on. The attempt to cope with his death and work on the edit without bringing much emotions in was pretty challenging. I had to put the edit aside for about 2 years before I could start editing as I would cry non-stop everytime I see and hear him. I guess the editing process was extremely emotionally draining and that was one of the most challenging parts of the project.



Review: Music Saves My Soul by Xaisongkham Induangchanthy @Seashorts

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Sitting through this film, I have the urge to stand up from my seat, reach through the screen and give Mrs Khamlek a big hug if she'd let me. Baring her soul to the world and sharing her voice through song, the title of this film holds onto the essence of the journey shown. 

Music Saves My Soul by Xaisongkham Induangchanthy follows the milestones and events of Mrs Khamlek's life in Laos. Working as a housekeeper in the day and a singer by night, she shares her life with honesty and no frills. Xaisongkham shares, "Few years ago, I conducted a workshop for local authorities in Luang Prabang on how to use a video camera to document intangible cultural heritage. Mrs Khamlek was one of the people we interviewed. That’s how I met her. Upon hearing her singing voice and a little bit of her background, immediately I was drawn to her and thought that I would one day do a documentary about her."

Initially, he was keen to interview several female performers in Luang Prabang and document their lives, different traditional styles of music and singing. However, the concept eventually evolved into featuring a more personal side of things as well. "When I got to know them, especially Mrs Khamlek, I found that their personal stories were more interesting," he reveals. 

The personal stories certainly serve as an anchor for the film, with the singing an artistic expression and release from the daily tensions of wanting to do better than just survive. Heartbreaking from the hardship and tragedies that occured, it is her strength and passion for singing that really strikes you. Joy radiates from her face when she talks about singing and how calm envelops her while she performs, while also sharing the inconveniences of performance as well. After all, no situation is ever a bed of roses. 

One scene that sticks with me will be her performance at a local temple. Floral decorations are up while people dance cheerfully in their traditional garb. Musicians play their instruments with ease, while Mrs Khamlek and her male singing partner take their place on a platform. Her hand caresses the fresh flowers placed in front of her, a ritual and a blessing to give her the words to sing, before having the same hand touch her face and hair. The entire atmosphere at the temple is lively and everyone is brought together in this sacred place. 

"A temple is a centre of communities. It is where important ceremonies and fairs are held; where people come to cerebrate, make merits, ask for good health and prosperity, and so on. The temple fairs are usually held on special occasions such as at the end of Buddhist lent when rice is harvested. So it is a joyous time to celebrate and make merits. Games and performances are important part of the fairs. People come and enjoy them. Young people will meet and court," Xaisongkham shares some insights of the temples' significance in Laos. 



The level of details speak for themselves in this film, especially for Mrs Khamlek's transformation from housekeeper to singer. From her dress to her make up, the gradual visual change is interesting to witness how these subtleties add up to a new perspective of seeing her. A ritual in itself, the intimacy of this process is captured well on film and precious glimpses into her personal space is granted to the audience. 

But for Xaisongkham, this film goes beyond Mrs Khamlek and her story. It is about documenting the art form while showing appreciation to the senior performers of these traditions. 

"‘Arn Nungseu’ is a style of  traditional singing that is unique to Luang Prabang and its neighbouring provinces. However, Lao people in general, hardly know about it. Currently, it seems access to lesser-known traditional music and performers, to listen to or learn from, is very limited. I want to document this style of music and share with a wider audience so they will know and treasure it. I also want to show respect and appreciation to seasoned performers who have so much to share. In Laos, senior performers, artists in different fields are often overlooked and under-appreciated. It would be a loss if we don’t document and promote them while they are still around and active. I hope that audiences, especially young Lao audiences, will appreciate their work and get inspired to come and learn from them."

On this note, though music and other art forms in Southeast Asia have played a bit part in tradition and culture, they are dying out as audience numbers begin to taper off and new interests are formed. What will happen if these forms are to die out in the future? 

He simply responds, "I think some will eventually die out in the future. Some will evolve and survive; its style and function will change. For example, the style of music heard in ‘Music Saves My Soul’ known as ‘Arn Nungseu’ (literally means ‘reading words with rhythm) used to be performed in the palace for royal family and for soldiers only. Now it can be formed anywhere as long as performers are hired. They can even perform for tourists. Some styles of singings used to be accompanied with few pieces of traditional music instruments. Now they can be performed with an electronic keyboard. Or some traditional styles of singings have turned into dance (listeners used to sit and listen. Now they can dance to it as well)."

And it is with this documentation in mind, with stories and art at the forefront, that Music Saves My Soul is made. 

Review: Fireflies by Robin Estargo @SeaShorts

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Three friends seek sanctuary in music, in this ambitious musical short by 21-year-old Philippine filmmaker Robin Estargo that enchants more than not.

Fireflies follows a wannabe songwriter, a closeted restaurant worker and a teenager after her abortion, as they negotiate heartache through song and dance over a night of drinking. The everyday experience of hiding behind a good song translates on-screen with great style, but its youthful energy is somewhat muted by stilted acting from its young actors, who play second fiddle to the soundtrack.

The real stars of the film are the original compositions that quite literally grant our characters a break from reality in the most colourful of ways. We are treated to three easy-listening pop songs that take over three key sequences. The dominant presence of original music is impressive for a short film, but without distinct identities the three songs blend into each other, and may eventually lapse into background music for some viewers. It’s a shame, because the musical compositions display considerable heart and talent.

With some fine-tuning, writer-director-musician Robin Estargo could shape his undeniable ambition and flair for experimentation into a unique filmography, one that stands out from the wave of gritty social realism predominating Philippine cinema in recent times. This young director is one to watch.


SINdie conducted an email interview with writer-director Robin Estargo on his short film Fireflies.

SINdie: Congratulations on your short film! What was the inspiration behind it?

Fireflies is inspired by the lives of vilified Filipino ‘Millennials’ and ‘Generation Z’, who are perceived as entitled, but are really just misunderstood.

It was my college thesis film, and I wanted to encapsulate my journey of self-discovery in college. It was when I first drank, came out as gay and had my first kiss.

In my college (De La Salle-College of Saint Benilde), there is this night culture popularly known as ‘Happy Thursday’; classes for the weekend on a Thursday and students make use of it for drunken all-nighters. The next day is a free day for hangovers.

I had my first drink during one of these Thursdays, and met friends who shared secrets about heartbreak, family problems, suicidal thoughts, depression, sexuality, abortion… If the walls of those bars could talk, it would be an overflowing bowl of stories that need to be addressed and heard from today’s troubled youth.

I wanted Firefliesto be that voice for them; a voice filled with optimism and comfort that says, “Hey, it’s okay. Everything is alright. You always have someone to talk to.” They need to know that their story is not unique and that they are not alone. I have felt the same way, whenever my parents dismiss me for talking about my mental health problems and true sexuality.

Many Philippine films in recent times seem to focus on the crime and danger arising from the Philippine Drug War, but your film is noticeably lighter and more optimistic. 

I find these films that focus on the Philippine Drug War very important too. Most Filipino films that attract acclaim overseas tend to focus on the crisis and murders. I feel that foreigners only get to see this one problem lingering in the Philippines because of this current, unintentional and unfortunate subject in Philippine cinema. And foreigners eat up these types of Filipino films because it’s what they often hear from the news.

I wanted Firefliesto be the antithesis to this matter, a unique, optimistic silver lining to this era in Philippine cinema.

But even the drinking culture that the youth utilise as a form of innocent catharsis gets touched by the issue at hand, because people do not feel safe on the streets they’re used to. I give a little nod to it in a scene when my two characters run from the police and a gun is clicked without being fired.

The Philippine Drug War raises a lot of sociopolitical problems, but I believe we also have a responsibility to focus on other problems that are rarely talked about. These are the concerns that teenagers raise at the dining table, but are dismissed by parents as unimportant. What parents don’t realise is that these issues are worthy of time, too. And they question why these kids would rather tell their stories in bars, with friends over drinks? It’s because no one else wants to listen.

Music plays a big part in your film. Was the story written around the songs, or the songs composed to match the story?

It was a mix of both. I wrote Fireflies’ first concept when I was drunk in a bar with friends, Ash, Amiel, and Kaye. It was my first time drinking. Amiel lent me his pen.

I wanted to make a film that dances with the music, as I was inspired by all the lights in the bar, my friends dancing to the music, the noise, and the camaraderie a place can initiate from people. All the characters were inspired by people from my life.

In my screenplay, I described the three pieces of music that I wanted to produce, what it should feel like and what the lyrics should contain. At first, I wanted to compose original songs. I’m very close to the independent musician, Ruru (Denice). She’s currently on tour in the US, and I knew I wanted to work with her on a musical project back when we were best friends in college. When I was looking for music producers, Denice was at the top of my list, and she agreed.

I also became friends with Anthony, the lead vocalist from a local band, Space Onigiri. When I discovered their dream pop EP called, ‘OK’, I was ecstatic, because the three songs matched exactly how I wanted the music to feel and what the lyrics should contain. I eventually decided to include all three songs in the film.


Finally, Ruru’s ‘Sepanx’ started as an inspiration, but its lyrics were so close to what I wanted my film’s first song to be, that we eventually decided to reproduce it with my actor, Ash on vocals.

I had 76 scenes in the script, whereas a Filipino feature-length film would typically have 40 scenes. People were shocked, but I defended it, because it was almost like a trilogy of music videos, composed of many cuts and single-shot scenes.

How did your professors and friends react to the finished film?

People loved it! A few said I should not call it a musical because it is just three music videos compressed into one film, and I’m like, “Yes! Exactly!” That was what I wanted to achieve.

But this was a rebellious choice for a thesis film concept, as a film professor once told me that music videos are not cinema. But still, Fireflies is indeed a musical, when you think about it.

You have a remarkable portfolio of shorts, documentaries and music videos for your age. How did you get started in filmmaking?

That was how my eyes were exposed to cinema, through my grandmother. I grew up watching a lot of horror movies with her. But I first realised my potential in filmmaking in high school, about six years ago.

My school had this annual event, in which third-year students should make a full length film as a class requirement. It would be screened in the school’s film festival and we would sell tickets for it. Highest grossing film wins. My classmates picked me to direct our film. Our camera was this junky DSLR and we edited the film on our laptops. We knew nothing about film at that time. I actually watched it again recently and it was not a great film but back then, it was a work of art for us. We were the highest grossest film, and we used what we earned to fund classroom expenses, as far as I can remember.

I always want to be three steps ahead of everybody, or more. In my first year of college, I was already interning at film companies. I was already filming shorts and documentaries. I was already winning at film festivals. My first big project was when I directed a documentary for my college and had director Jose “Joey” Javier Reyes, a god in the Philippine film industry, as my producer. I was in my second or third year at that time. After that, people hired me to be their cinematographer, director, and/or producer, and I wasn’t even out of college yet.

My biggest influence in filmmaking would be my past and my childhood. I know, most of the time, filmmakers credit other filmmakers they admire as their influences. My films are mostly drawn from my own life. I lived in a small conservative town in this province in the Philippines called Laguna. I’ve heard stories from my aunts and uncles about provincial life, and I’ve experienced my own story of recklessness and rebellion from that type of life.

Fireflies, in a way, was born from my story of recklessness, when I moved to Manila for college and shifted toward a more liberal, independent way of life. That recklessness is important to me. I needed that at the time. I think that’s where my source of anger comes from as well. A director is known for his unique source of anger that makes him do the type of films he does. I think my childhood is my source of anger.

What was the biggest challenge in making this film and how did you overcome it?

As usual in many small independent films, the biggest challenge was funding. All funding came from my family’s pocket. We were middle-class people earning a standard income and trying to make a high-budget film.

But come to think of it, money never felt like an issue during production.

Many people offered free locations, equipment and work, in exchange for nothing but the experience in making a film. I’m eternally grateful to my crew. They stayed up all night for nine days to finish our film. I’m also thankful for my producer, Jayvery; my co-producer, my mother; and for my family and relatives who travelled from Laguna to Manila to help with my thesis film.

Every character you see in Fireflies, as well as every crew member you don’t see, is played by a friend, relative, or schoolmate. I would not be where I am today, and the film would not be where it is today, if it were not for them.


What can we expect from you next?

I was a finalist in a recent film pitching event in the Philippines with a short film I am currently developing. I won two post-production prizes for it and I’m currently applying for a production grant, so we’ll see where that goes. I’m also waiting for a music video project to be greenlit, and I’m still waiting for more opportunities to open for me.



Fireflies was screened recently at the 2019 SeaShorts Film Festival in Melaka.

Interview answers have been edited for clarity.
Written by Joshua Ng

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