巨人 (2019)

June 18, 2020, 9:41 pm

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Still water runs deep. In a placid stop motion animated piece that transports the viewer into a somewhat surreal underwater world, complete with the quintessential ‘Nat Geo’ marine life soundtrack, our understanding of nature is disrupted, and our conventional wisdoms about life and its purpose challenged. One does not need to peer too deep into the film 巨人 (Juren) to understand its intent. The writing is all there, and in fact, the film is flooded with text, on newspaper print. The Zhuang brothers (real twin brothers Henry and Harry Zhuang), partners in animation with several prominent works over the years, invite us to literally read in between the lines, with the use of an evocative visual motif - newspaper cuttings.

Newspapers form the visual bedrock, pardon the pun, of the marine-themed film. Some are crushed into shapes that complete an island or a seaside landscape, while the rest are cut into amorphous discs that form units of water or scales on the bodies of fishes. With an interplay of dramatic lighting, cinematographic variation and most integral of all, hypnotic sound design that meanders between the realistic and the phantasmagorical, the newspaper fragments gain dimension as the film’s visual currency. We could even add to that, emotional and intellectual currency. This is especially so when the camera trains in on cuttings that carry certain words. One particular cutting that had floated onshore had the phrase 人文学科 or humanities on it. This cutting sank into the ground and a tree emerged where it sank. While bordering on being slightly didactic, moments like these create a somewhat different headspace for understanding the film, one that relates more to the world inhabited by the poem which inspired the film, 巨人, written by artist-poet Tan Swie Hian, in the 60s.

The poem obviously evokes a world that is more complex than the film. There is evidently a message about taking the road less travelled and going where nobody has gone before, intertwined with thoughts about fatherhood and sacrifice. There is also the question of divine powers and where the forces of nature stand in relation to that. In the film, the makers have chosen not to chase the words of the poem, but instead plant the seeds of its wisdom on new soil, and craft an original fable out of it. Essentially, Juren the film tells the story of a brave fish who took the unbeaten path, breaking away from its tribe, and through its sacrifice, sowed the seeds of a new world, signified by the emergence of a dense new jungle that bore, too conveniently, an allegory to nation-building. But thankfully, the film avoids an absolutist grip on the narrative and this opens doors to the larger world of the poem’s themes and influences. This is also where understanding the filmmakers’ interpretations, the larger socio-political context of the poems and even knowing what the poet was thinking about in the 60s when penning this piece, enriches our appreciation of the film tremendously. Tan Swie Hian, who wrote the poems in the 60s, found himself in a certain crucial juncture of his life, having left behind turbulent adolescent years and broken his father’s hopes for him to takeover the family business. But 巨人 the poetry collection also marked the starting point for Tan as a pioneer of modernist Chinese literature in Singapore.

Not to discredit the filmmaking brothers, but the film succeeds in bridging a dialogue between the audience and Tan, allowing us to swim into the deepest corners of his psyche and find a personal resonance to the story beyond the confines of a simple fish tale with all its familiar tropes of discovery and courage. In fact, the film’s ability to forge a connection with the original literature is adaptation at its best. One watching this piece by the Zhuang brothers is likely to experience the same journey of digging through multiple layers of consciousness only to realise more questions surface even as the field of vision expands. And the more we revisit, the more unsettling it becomes.

Review by Jeremy Sing

While the film was originally commissioned by the National Arts Council for Utter 2017, which is part of the Singapore Writers' Festival, the brothers reworked the film over the next 1.5 years and are proud to have the film selected for the Annecy International Animation Film Festival starting this week! You can watch the festival films online with a fee. Here is the link to the film screening section online.

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ShoutOUT! [AFA's First Fully Online Programme] Whose House is This?: New Cinema of Central Asia

June 20, 2020, 1:24 am

≫ Next: Short Film Review: Boonrerm (2015)

≪ Previous: Short Film Review: Juren // 巨人 (2019)

Whose House is This?: New Cinema of Central Asia is the first online programme from the Asian Film Archive (AFA) that will be presented entirely online, as part of its new initiative, Rewired.

Rewired brings AFA's film programming online and accessible to audiences as cinemas remain closed due to the COVID-19 outbreak. With the latest social distancing rules allowing for small gatherings from 19 June 2020, this programme is a chance for Singaporeans to rent and watch a Central Asian film with friends or form online watch parties.

The title of this programme is inspired by Kazakh filmmaker Adilkhan Yerzhanov’s The Owners (Kazakhstan, 2014, PG)

The title of this programme is inspired by Kazakh filmmaker Adilkhan Yerzhanov’s The Owners (Kazakhstan, 2014, PG), in which a group of urbanite youths return to their ancestral home, only to be challenged by village elders. "Whose house is this?" the elders ask as they attempt to dispossess the youths of their rightful place. Here, the house is a site of contestation between old and new, tradition and modernity.

Showcasing some of the boldest cinema from the past decade from Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan, the programme explores the struggles for space and ownership that take place in various societies, over issues of culture, gender, nationhood, and identity.

From19 June to 16 July 2020, the films from Whose House is This? will be available for rent on demand for up to 48 hours. The programme features five narrative features, one short film, and three documentaries. The films have been carefully curated to spotlight a diverse range of films from Central Asia, a region that often goes under the radar on the world cinema stage. With a legacy of filmmaking dating back to the 1920s, from propaganda cinema, to the more gritty social realist films of 80s and 90s, Central Asian cinema has been garnering critical acclaim at international film festivals since the 2000s.

A notable aspect of this programme is that seven out of the nine films in the lineup are

directed by women, including the three documentaries.

Some highlights include:

Face The Music (Kazakhstan, 2018, Katerina Suvorova, PG)
A documentary focusing on the Kazakhstani boyband, Ninetyone. They take inspiration from K-pop while incorporating ethnic identity to showcase Kazakh culture on a global stage. However, their popularity with the Kazakh youth is seen as a threat to traditional masculinity and conservative values of the older generation.

Face The Music (Kazakhstan, 2018, Katerina Suvorova, PG)
40 Days of Silence (Uzbekistan, 2014, Saodat Ismailova, PG13)
Burdened by the weight of her past deeds, a young woman, Bibicha, retreats to her grandmother’s house in rural Uzbekistan and undertakes a 40-day vow of silence as atonement.

40 Days of Silence (Uzbekistan, 2014, Saodat Ismailova, PG13)
Aurora (Kyrgyzstan, 2018, Bekzat Pirmatov, PG13)
Aurora is an ostentatious, Soviet-era spa resort. Taking place over the course of a single day, but presented in a non-linear narrative structure, the film weaves farcical elements with social commentary, providing insight into present-day Kyrgyzstan. Aurora was selected as Kyrgyzstan's entry for Best International Feature Film at the 92nd Academy Awards.

Aurora (Kyrgyzstan, 2018, Bekzat Pirmatov, PG13)

Find out more about the films and how they can be rented at www.asianfilmarchive.org.

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Short Film Review: Boonrerm (2015)

June 22, 2020, 11:12 pm

≫ Next: Review: Senior Year (2010)

≪ Previous: ShoutOUT! [AFA's First Fully Online Programme] Whose House is This?: New Cinema of Central Asia

Boonrerm by Thai filmmaker Sorayos Prapapan was recently made available for online viewing via the Lockdown Cinema Club, an initiative by Filipino filmmakers to help raise money for independent filmmakers in the Philippines who are badly hit by the COVID-19 pandemic. The project introduces a programme of films from the Philippines and other Southeast Asian countries to the public in a bid to raise donations and funds for these vulnerable filmmakers.

Boonrerm follows the drudgeries of its titular character, a live-in maid in Thailand who is at the mercy of her mercurial and often cruel mistress. I believe it was Buster Keaton who once observed that “tragedy is a close-up. Comedy, a long shot”. Prapapan holds steadfast to this adage in his depictions of the absurd and derogatory hoops that Boonrerm has to jump through at the behest of her mistress – he lets these scenes unfold with wry detachment, going no closer than a medium shot. It is only through Prapapan's clear-eyed formal choices are these acts of casual cruelty made amusing.

The film opens with the protagonist being tasked to lie in a dog cage where a measuring tape would have sufficed, and it only gets worse from here; by turns as callous as they are unaware, she eventually finds herself in a rubbish heap, digging to retrieve an unwanted recipe book. A gifted comic, Prapapan is patient and assured in his timings and payoffs; the wicked punchline of the trash heap sequence is only resolved in the film’s final shot, which sees Boonrerm’s mistress lazily preparing a microwavable meal. The sly final shot also juxtaposes itself smartly with its preceding scene, which sees Boonrerm and her friends feasting on a scrumptious meal, prepared by themselves, for themselves. The comment made here is not unlike the one in last summer’s audacious genre-bender Parasite, a point I won't belabour here.

The film’s most damning observation of the middle class’ treatment of the low wage underclass comes from a throwaway moment of commiseration – a senior of Boonrerm’s relating a moment of joy when she found out that her new job at the department store came with days off, as though it were a privilege or generosity. It is to Prapapan’s credit that the moment plays out with such ease and restraint, but its heart rings loud and true.

As our nation holds fast for the remaining few months of our quasi-lockdown / reopening, we mustn’t forget that for many, lockdown work from home has always been the rule of the day.

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As part of their fundraising and community engagement initiatives, the Lockdown Cinema Club programmed a one-week screening of selected Southeast Asian short films from 15-22 May. Head here to find out more: https://www.facebook.com/lockdowncinemaclub/

Written by Koh Zhi Hao

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Review: Senior Year (2010)

June 22, 2020, 11:20 pm

≫ Next: Film Review: Elegy to the Visitor from the Revolution (2011)

≪ Previous: Short Film Review: Boonrerm (2015)

Depending on where you fell in the social hierarchy of adolescent politics, high school could have been a pretty great or a pretty terrible time for you. Academic performance aside, the social experience of high school is a beast unlike any other—from the perils of wanting to fit in and perhaps not wanting to stand out too much to puberty and sexual awakenings, the years before one turns 18 are often comprised of equal measures of confusion, anxiety, and excitement.

Jerold Tarog’s 2010 coming-of-age classic Senior Year is a testament to this fact, as it looks back on the final year of a cohort of students at the private Catholic school, St. Frederick’s Academy, meandering through individual perspectives of different students from different cliques and socioeconomic backgrounds throughout the film. Tarog’s film begins with an adult Henry Dalmacio (RJ Ledesma), paralysed by indecision as he sits in his car, conflicted at his decision to attend his high school reunion. He reflects on snapshot memories of his final year, with classmates’ names coming to mind, as well as intramurals, a cockroach-infested baked macaroni at lunchtime, books, his graduation speech, and it all seems like quite the blur.

Henry isn’t exactly the most likable character from there on—he sees two classmates arrive as adults, commenting that one looks the same and the other “[isn’t] so cute anymore”. He then remembers a classmate, Sofia Marasigan (Rossanne de Boda) and we’re taken back in time, as he impatiently studies with her in a library and Sofia struggles to remember the formula for Newton’s second law of motion. It’s clear what high school trope Henry plays—he’s the unfriendly, impatient “nerd” who seemingly thinks he’s better than everyone else. He berates her harshly, stating that she’s eating up too much of his time and that she keeps calling him too much at home “as if they’re close”, telling her that she’s behaving like a stalker. And well, it’s mean and any woman who remembers the feeling of rejection at 16, will empathise with Sofia.

The reverie ends and the adult Henry hits his forehead, saying “motherchucker”. Indeed, Henry, you are a motherchucker.

I’m focusing on this opening a great deal because Tarog does a great job of setting the scene. We’ve all been there—at least for those of us who’ve attended a high school reunion. The anxiety of showing up, seeing people you do and don’t recognise, and really, there’s almost something macabre about the fascination of wanting to see who’s done well and who hasn’t—those who’ve “peaked”, as we often say. And for some, while a high school reunion may be a period for reminiscing, it can also be a time of shame (see: Henry) or pain, for those who will be confronting the ghosts of their past for the first time in a very long time.

If we zoom out, the casting of Senior Year is admittedly what saves the film for me. Aside from the adult cast, all of the students are played by actual students and I must say, it is incredibly refreshing to see 16 year olds that actually look like 16 year olds—from the awkward 2010s hair, the fashion that did not age gracefully a decade later, and of course, the sweltering Manila heat and humidity that’s a curse on any teenage girl’s skin. I appreciate the realism here and I’m sure that audiences who saw the film during its successful and later extended run at SM Cinemas thought so too.

To cast the students, Tarog actually surveyed hundreds of high school students, asking them to share their own personal stories and experiences—of them, the most interesting 10 were picked out and put through a two-month workshop, and Tarog wrote his screenplay around them. While there’s been a fair share of teen films and television shows that look to tackle any and all issues of “coming-of-age” under the sun, the realism offered by these real-life students allows the resulting narrative of Senior Year to come across in a genuine way, from the delivery of their lines to the lines themselves, it feels like I really am watching life play out for a group of 16-year-olds.

The resulting characters are rich and fully fleshed out, each exemplifying a role in the high school food chain—from the resident “popular girl” Solenn Vergara (Nikita Conwi), the shy Sofia who gradually learns to find her footing, St. Frederick’s very own Daria Morgendorffer, the sardonic Mitch Veloso (Celina Peñaflorida, later Ina Feleo), to the mysterious Jackie Bunda (Francez Bunda) who doesn’t show up to graduation—but without verging into stereotype territory.

Bunda, for one, has an abusive family life that her friends know little about. Her character says little throughout the film, but she is keen observer as Tarog gives us a window into her life at home, her father trading their DVD player for a small baggie of methamphetamines. She quietly carves away at a bar of soap, watching her parents argue and the frame is positioned in such a way where's she's in focus and her parents' gesticulations just outline the shot.

In addition, Tarog does a great job of realistically addressing the different issues that LGBTQ students face at this phase in their lives, especially within a Catholic educational institution as well as in a country where, despite the fact that homosexuality is generally socially acknowledged, discrimination still remains and little legal rights are afforded. For one, there’s Carlo Larada (Daniel Clavecilla Medrana, later Arnnold Reyes) who grapples with being bullied by his male peers for being effeminate. When his physical education teacher points out that his classmates probably think he’s “bakla”—a person who was biologically assigned with a male gender at birth but has taken on female or effeminate characteristics—he vehemently asserts that he doesn’t care as he’ll never see them again soon enough. Carlo says to his friends that this simply is who he is, but doesn’t go as far as self-identifying as queer in any way.

Then there’s Sofia Marasigan (Rossanne de Boda) who’s been receiving letters from a secret admirer who turns out to be a girl. When Sofia’s deeply religious father finds the letters, he tells her to remember how she was raised and reads verses of the Bible to her, despite her insistence that she's done nothing wrong. The scene is familiar to me, having heard similar stories from Filipino friends who've experienced the “religion as an antidote” approach to parenting when they came out to their own parents.

Exemplifying different socioeconomic backgrounds, cliques, and personas alike, Tarog’s cast of characters are a varied, complex group. I'd say more but I'd only risk spoiling it for you. What I can guarantee, however, is that you'll love some, you'll hate some, and hell, they'll probably even remind you of yourself or people you knew.

Each with their own back stories, these characters are a refreshing reminder that a coming-of-age film set in a high school doesn’t have to be some super-slick, glossy, idealised and romanticised image of the high school experience. Beyond their lives at school and the governing rule of high school politics, these are really just 16-year-olds trying to figure out who they are and in its recognition of that, that’s what makes Senior Year work.

Senior Year is currently available for streaming on Vimeo.

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.

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Film Review: Elegy to the Visitor from the Revolution (2011)

June 22, 2020, 11:41 pm

≫ Next: mm2 Launches On-Demand Streaming Platform Cathay CineHOME

≪ Previous: Review: Senior Year (2010)

As an advocate of slow cinema, Lav Diaz’s films are not so much concerned with capturing Filipino reality as they are with expressing the emotive struggles that plague its society. His oblique presentation of ideas often blend sci-fi with history to create something reflective yet prescient. In Elegy to the Visitor From the Revolution, Diaz interweaves the stories of a prostitute, a group of criminals, and a musician, as observed by an eponymous visitor from the past.

At 80 minutes, it’s a drop in the bucket compared with the lengthy historical epics Diaz is known for making. After all, his 2004 epic, Evolution of a Filipino Family, boasts an astounding 10-and-a-half-hour run time. With what could have been a typical four- to six-hour addition to his filmography, Diaz demonstrates great restraint in crafting a feature that is smaller in scope, yet customarily audacious in its representation of national history, poverty and social strife.

Topics of crime and poverty are no strangers to Filipino filmmakers, namely Brillante Mendoza or Raymund Gutierrez. They capture these issues with a handheld camera. In their films, the frame is often moving with the characters, rather than just characters moving within the frame. This vérité-like approach lends a certain intensity to the kinaesthetic imagery.

In contrast, Diaz is notably distant from his subjects when he frames them in his compositions. It’s this aspect that sets him apart from his fellow contemporaries. The camera is a passive onlooker, often lingering on subjects from a distance before cutting to the next tableaux. Yet, each scene is no less intimate. The stillness of the image exemplifies every movement, like a photograph come to life.

In Elegy, this serves as a perfect parallel with the enigmatic Visitor, whose presence punctuates each of the three stories. Dressed in traditional attire, the Visitor is a quiet observer from a time long past. As the film’s title suggests, the Visitor is a relic of the Philippine Revolution, a movement which led to the country’s independence from Spain in 1897.

She watches as the repression she had sought to escape is being manifested in new forms in the modern day. She watches Teresa, a prostitute, fruitlessly pursuing clients at the dead of night. She watches a couple brutally forcing a man to confess where he hid the money they had stolen, but to no avail. Finally, she watches a faceless musician (played by Diaz), strumming his guitar in the confines of his abode, playing to an audience of one. While all three stories are varying, they share a common thread of loss and failure.

The Visitor’s weary eyes and downward gaze betray a growing despondence as she observes the unmerited outcome of her country’s independence. She’s often accompanied by the motif of water; her presence synonymous with the diegetic hum of pattering rain or river rapids. Like the water droplets or ebbing tides, the Visitor’s role in history is ephemeral. The Revolution she fought so valiantly for is a short lived victory, only to be washed over by a new wave of melancholy and despair in the modern age.

Unfortunately, as provocative as these ideas are, they can get overshadowed by overdrawn characters, and a runtime that overstays its welcome. Granted, the film is only over an hour long, but it’s arguably an hour too long. Unsurprisingly, Elegy is the extension of a one-minute short Diaz had previously intended for the Nikalexis.MOV omnibus, an anthology of short films dedicated to late film critics Alexis Tioseco and Nika Bohinc. One can’t help but wonder if the film’s ideas would fare just as well, if not more effectively, as a short film.

However, where the film lacks in brevity, it gains in depth. Ultimately, Elegy speaks not of unjust people, but of the unjust society they live in. For those trapped in the cycle of poverty, most have nowhere to turn to except the streets or crime. Diaz frames these individuals not as perpetrators, but as victims.

Perhaps confining their stories to a 20-minute short would serve them an injustice. Perhaps Diaz quickly realised the breadth a feature film could provide that a short would otherwise lack. Perhaps the answer lies no further than the mysterious musician played by Diaz: unheard and unappreciated, his short guitar rifts falling on deaf ears. An echo of the artists’ place in contemporary Filipino society, and a mirror of Diaz’s own struggle as a filmmaker.

Written by Charlie Chua

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mm2 Launches On-Demand Streaming Platform Cathay CineHOME

June 25, 2020, 3:27 am

≫ Next: ShoutOUT! Video artist and filmmaker Chulayarnnon Siriphol's 5 years worth of newspaper cuttings on exhibition

≪ Previous: Film Review: Elegy to the Visitor from the Revolution (2011)

mm2 will be launching their On-Demand Streaming Service Cathay CineHOME

Singapore-based media group mm2 Asia (hereby “mm2”; SGX: 1B0) has unveiled plans to launch a new on-demand streaming platform offering movies in Singapore, with plans to expand into regional markets. This platform to be branded Cathay CineHOME will provide viewers with access to films immediately after the theatrical window, succeeding the old, proven DVD video rental market. In addition, the platform allows consumers greater opportunity to watch films that had a limited theatrical run, or “online movies” (Chinese: 网络大电影 , also known colloquially as “网大”) which are a growing trend in China.

The platform will sit alongside the Cathay Cineplexes brand of cinemas that have been a household name in the Asian entertainment industry for more than eight decades. mm2 Asia acquired Cathay Cineplexes in 2017 which attracts millions of moviegoers annually to its eight outlets islandwide.

“With Cathay CineHOME, mm2 intends to develop a complementary platform to the cinema exhibition business. Many people want to watch the latest movies but maybe unable to find the time to go to the cinema. They used to be able to rent DVDs from the neighbourhood video shop, but the majority of those shops are no longer around. If you miss a film at the cinema, Cathay CineHOME will offer movie lovers an invaluable and flexible option to enjoy their favourite films at their own personal preferred timing. This service will not replace the experience of going out to the cinemas,” says Melvin Ang, Executive Chairman of mm2 Asia.

“We have always wanted a complementary platform to our cinemas to address the needs of movie lovers to achieve our long-announced OTT ambitions. The coronavirus situation has simply accelerated the group’s total digital strategy,” he adds.

The standard release routine for a movie is guided by “release windows”, designed to keep different release formats from competing with each other. This allows the movie to take advantage of different format markets (cinema, airlines, digital VOD, television, etc) at different times, so as to optimise the movie’s commercial value. Therefore, both Cathay Cineplexes and Cathay CineHOME be well aligned to create synergy, to take advantage of the multi-platform release window opportunity.

Cathay CineHOME will be using the Transactional Video on Demand (TVOD) model that allows consumers to watch the movies that they want on a pay-per-view basis. Studies show that consumer acceptance for the TVOD model is growing rapidly. In a Q1 2020 survey of 10,000 US broadband households, the survey shows that TVOD service use doubled from 7% in Q3 2018 to 14% in Q1 20201.

mm2 has not finalised the business terms and pricing plan for Cathay CineHOME with major studio and producer partners at this time but is targeting the service to be available in the third quarter this year.

mm2 Asia is Singapore’s leading content & entertainment group with integrated businesses across the content, immersive media, cinema, event and concert industries in Singapore, Malaysia, Taiwan, Hong Kong, China and the United States.

mm2 Asia is the first Singaporean production company to be listed on the SGX-ST mainboard (SGX Stock Code: 1B0).

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ShoutOUT! Video artist and filmmaker Chulayarnnon Siriphol's 5 years worth of newspaper cuttings on exhibition

June 28, 2020, 9:13 am

≫ Next: Short Film Review: Ruwatan (2019)

≪ Previous: mm2 Launches On-Demand Streaming Platform Cathay CineHOME

Bangkok City Gallery has launched Give Us A Little More Time, an ongoing project since 2014, by a video artist and film director, Chulayarnnon Siriphol. He painstakingly put together 5 years' worth of newspaper cuttings into an animation piece. This exhibition coincides with reopening of Bangkok City Gallery, and Give Us A Little More Time is Siriphol’s the second solo exhibition with the gallery.

22 May 2014 marked the 13th Coup d’état of Thailand, when the military junta seized power and introduced the campaign called “Restoration of Happiness”. But this is actually seen as ‘political doublespeak’ to pro-democracy Thais. The junta augmented a delusion of ‘happiness’ by the use of parody in song and other forms of entertainment to subdue the resistant citizens who were, in fact, coerced into silence and even disappearance.

One line of the absurd lyric lends the title of Siriphol’s project: Give Us A Little More Time. On the same day of the military coup, Siriphol started making a daily newspaper collage, and vowed to keep a routine until the national election was announced. He cuts out stories from Thai daily newspapers to demonstrate image-text composition styles imposed by the doctrine of the military; and with his unique sensibility, he examines the bureaucratic inertia and hypocrisy. For the artist, this collage-making is a response towards the heavily controlled newspaper deemed no longer reliable to the concerned Thai citizens.

Give Us A Little More Time, an exhibition by Chulayarnnon Siriphol will be held at Bangkok City Gallery (Sathorn Soi 1 – near Lumphini MRT station – parking at 123 Parking) from June 21 to August 09, 2020. The gallery is open from Wednesday to Sunday, 13:00–19:00 hrs. For visitor safety, the exhibition is limited attendance. Please contact info@bangkokcitycity.com or +6683 087 2725 to make an appointment to visit the exhibition in advance.

Chulayarnnon Siriphol (b.1986, Bangkok) explores new possibilities of moving images, and traverses between the filmmaking and art-making. His work investigates memories, diverse forms of narratives, and realities. His works have been screened in film festivals and exhibitions in Asia and Europe, including in The 71st Cannes Film Festival, France (2018), The 26th Singapore International Film Festival, Singapore (2015), and The 5th Fukuoka Asian Art Triennale, Japan (2014). His recent solo exhibition includes From Earth to Heaven, Organhaus Art Space, China (2018), Museum of Kirati, Bangkok City Gallery, Thailand (2017), and Behind the Painting, Art Centre Silpakorn University, Thailand (2015).

For more information, check out www.bangkokcitycity.com or www.facebook.com/bangkokcitycity

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Short Film Review: Ruwatan (2019)

July 4, 2020, 2:45 am

≫ Next: Farewell to the Scala

≪ Previous: ShoutOUT! Video artist and filmmaker Chulayarnnon Siriphol's 5 years worth of newspaper cuttings on exhibition

We hear the sound of children and traffic before we see Sri’s mother, centre-framed and her back turned to us. In a moment, we will see Sri framed similarly from the front, her face ill-lit in spite of the glaring sun, but for now we soak in the lack of agency and isolation in this opening image. It speaks volumes – on both Sri and her mother’s part. Their identities, no matter how separate, are one and the same.

Ruwatan, directed by Ernest Lesmana, is an Indonesian short film from the Palm Springs International Film Festival’s ShortFest official selection. Sri, a young woman, takes her mother weekly to a dukun – the equivalent of a shaman – to seek treatment for what seems to be black magic-induced blindness. Distanced from the film’s cultural context, a foreigner’s immediate reaction is to discover what ‘ruwatan’ means – a Javanese purification ritual, an exorcism to remove the bad luck from a person.

The ritual itself is, if not feared, then something to be anxious about. In a scene where mother and daughter consult the dukun, Sri looks at him in concern when he mentions that her mother must ‘prepare for ruwatan’. Interestingly, he is out of focus and framed from the back so we can hardly see his features beyond a vague side profile, while Sri’s mother is blocked such that she is in the centre of the frame, her eyes looking almost straight at us. It’s an imploring of us to question the validity of his alternative treatment.

Consider the shot succeeding this. Framed in a tight medium closeup, Sri's mother sits, her shoulders hunched, toplight casting macabre shadows on her face as the dukun cleanses her with flowered water. The green saturation already suggests an unnatural, perverse intrusion into her privacy as her expressive face betrays her fear – all while the camera gradually dollies in, and a tense thrum grows in volume. There’s a moment where the dukun attempts to lift up her towel from below – already offscreen – presumably to cleanse underneath. She hesitates; he merely asks if she wants to get better. Conflict warring across her visage, she allows it. Lesmana chooses to leave things to the imagination and criticism remains unsaid, but the implications are clear.

But this really isn’t the point of the film; it’s more of a backdrop against the foregrounded mother-daughter relationship and the isolation between the two of them. The film is full of moments where, even in settings where there are an abundance of people in the same frame, eyelines never match. In minivans, Sri is always looking out the window while her mother looks off into the distance. The rest are all either looking at their phones or magazines. Indeed, some of the most heartbreaking moments are of shots like these, her eyes wandering around, face crumpling as she feels around the empty space for her daughter, searching for a connection where there is none.

There is a moment of catharsis when Sri finally moves to sit beside her mother. Mother holds daughter’s face gently, eyes still not fully meeting hers, beginning to cry as she delivers a heartbreaking line: “I just want to see your face one more time.” But the shot maintains its static, objective mid-shot while foregrounding an apathetic stranger on his phone. The moment is not afforded much sentiment either, the full force of the moment abruptly cutting to the next – perhaps showing that hesitation to open up to each other.

Ultimately, the core of the film is its dearth of connection. There is a deep well of love for each other but it seems that both are afraid to reveal themselves to each other, resulting in deep loneliness. What is the need for purification, actually? The need for connection? An exorcism of the demons that separate the both of them? Emotions are sanitised, and acts of service seem transactional. At home, Sri fills a bowl of the holy water the dukun gives to them for her mother to use; the tilt downwards to the table shows a number of empty plastic bottles. That imbalanced image of negation reflects the numerous, and ultimately empty, attempts at connection.

The film ends with an overhead shot of Sri and her mother sleeping on the same bed – facing away from each other, distanced even in sleep. The bright red of the blanket is dulled by the darkness of the image, a mockery of the vibrant mother-daughter relationship. As credits begin to roll over sentimental music, one is brought to think about the emotional complexity of familial connection. The film whispers an utterance rather than proclaims a message, perhaps provoking us to think about our own relationships. In this sense I think there’s a universality to this final image; a desire for human connection, as poets, writers, and singers have been writing about for millennia. And filmmakers too.

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Farewell to the Scala

July 6, 2020, 6:47 am

≫ Next: 10 Singapore films that can give you some political education

≪ Previous: Short Film Review: Ruwatan (2019)

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Wearing face shields and holding flashlights, middle-age men in unique uniforms of yellow jackets and black bow ties eagerly led hundreds of moviegoers to their seats inside one of the oldest theatres in Thailand.

As its longtime ushers, it was probably one of their busiest days in years. Ironically, it was also their last day in duty.

Scala, Bangkok’s last standalone cinema founded over half a century ago, opened its doors to customers for the final time on July 5 after years of struggle to stay afloat in the media market rapidly changed by the digital revolution.

Although with the ongoing crisis of COVID-19 pandemic, thousands flocked in to bid a bittersweet farewell to their much beloved cinema over the weekend. The venue was packed both inside and outside all day through, an unusual sight for its normally empty hall.

Savouring the last moments, fans showed up to take photos and videos, with a few even dressed up in vintage costumes. They bought souvenirs, talked to the staff, or wrote messages on post-it notes and put them on a whiteboard.

After each round of the Sunday’s screening, Scala’s employees lined up in two rows at the exit to say thank you to all attendees until the very last one left the auditorium. Some teared up and hugged the staff. Some gave them roses and other small gifts.

The cinema’s last screening was Academy Award winning “Cinema Paradiso.” Owner Nanta Tansacha took to the stage afterward to thank the audience that could fill only about a half of the cinema’s 700-something seats due to a requirement to observe social distancing rules.

“Scala has brought everyone happiness for 51 years. Today, it’s time for us to go, but we’d like to go with happy memories,” she said, adding that the name “Scala” would then be given to an unnamed theatre in her family-owned botanical garden in Pattaya.

After ordering a major business shutdown for over two months, the Thai government on June 1 allowed cinemas to operate again. While all big chained cineplexes instantaneously announced their comeback, it wasn’t the same case for Scala. Following weeks of rumours, the theatre, which would’ve celebrated its 51th anniversary in December, said it would close for good. It’s unclear what will happen to the building renowned for its elegant Art-Deco architecture.

The closure of one of the last remaining independent cinemas in the kingdom is a major blow to avid film lovers. Despite the state's caution over large crowd gatherings, people started queuing up to grab seats for Scala’s final screenings hours before the tickets went on sale on the first day. Shortly after, hundreds formed a long line that stretched to the outside of the building. All seats for its last event were sold out in just three days.

Stuck in the past

While the news was sudden, it didn’t come as a surprise. The oldie cinema, tucked in the heart of fast-growing Bangkok business district, had faced threats of shutting down for years due to financial pressure.

This harsh reality was evident in one of its last screenings “The Scala,” a 2016 Thai documentary about the theatre itself. Simple and straightforward, the film told the cinema’s story through accounts of four of its veteran employees, identified as The Caretaker, The Manager, The Technician and The Projectionist. While reminiscing about the good old days, it was clear they had already come to terms that their times were running out.

Compared to the bustling, modern surroundings, it looked almost as if the time inside Scala had stopped, with the marquee letters that need to be manually arranged, paper seat maps and handwritten tickets, or blackboards and chalks to take notes in the office. Throughout the film, the cinema struggled, both due to tight cash flow and being slow to adapt to changes.

The Caretaker washed the seat covers by hand at the theatre rooftop because the company couldn’t afford a laundry service. The Technician took extra duty fixing the cushions. The Projectionist had a hard time learning a digital display system, saying he could not wrap his head around new technology. Staff took on a massive task of cleaning the iconic grand chandelier, taking it down to be washed piece by piece before assembling it together all by themselves, regardless of their job titles.

Although with much adoration shown during its last days, the golden age of standalone cinemas was long over in Thailand. New media technology, from VCR to DVD to the boom of online streaming that allows people to watch movies anytime and anywhere, combining with dominating growth of commercial multiplexes, gradually pushed them out of the market.

While acknowledging they were becoming obsolete, the employees who’d stayed with the cinema since its early days put in their best efforts to run things in their old-school way.

In one of the film's final moments, The Technician, wanting to draw more people to Scala’s sibling Lido, led his team to install a new lighting display at the cinema’s light box that he designed by himself. After the work was done, he gazed at the flashy moving lights brightening up the front of the theatre from the opposite side of the street, looking happy and content.

Just two years after the documentary was released, their parent company Apex said goodbye to Lido. It was revamped into a multi-purpose entertainment hub by the new owner.

Seeing the documentary knowing their fates were already sealed was heavy-hearted. Scala, among the last of heritage from the cinema’s glory era in Thailand, offered a film experience with the old-age heart and spirit that could no longer be found anywhere else in the capital. Losing it is a great shame, but with the lack of support, all realised its end would come sooner or later.

“We have to admit that things have changed,” said Scala’s manager Puangthong Siriwan in the film. “Maybe it’s time for us to call it a day.”

↧

10 Singapore films that can give you some political education

July 6, 2020, 11:00 am

≫ Next: Brian Gothong Tan: "I just wanted to express what I know and feel."

≪ Previous: Farewell to the Scala

In Singapore, party political films are against the law unless it is a documentary that presents actual events, persons or situations, in an untampered fashion, free from any form of dramatisation. The lawmakers see it as an undesirable medium for political debate in Singapore which can sensationalise political issues. Yet, this has not deterred filmmakers in Singapore from creating films that hold a mirror up to socio-political issues and uncomfortable truths. The past few years have seen filmmakers here depart from safe HDB chamber dramas to films about more complex issues like foreign labour, political history, political dissidents and the death penalty. There is a certain amount of activism intertwined with the practice of making films. If you don’t have something to say or care about anything, the struggles in putting together a film is almost not worth the pain. There has been so much good material floating around in the online and in the cinemas in the past years that you have no excuse not to get a little more educated about politics and society and become a little more ‘woke’. Here are 10 Singapore films we recommend you watch.

To Singapore with love (2013, 70 min) by Tan Pin Pin

This documentary is a collection of accounts from Singapore political exiles such as Tan Wah Piow and Ang Swee Chai. Some of them were activists, student leaders, others were card carrying communists. Though from different political persuasions, they all fled Singapore in the 1960’s, 1970s and 1980′s to escape the prospect of detention without trial carried out by the British Colonial Government and later, by the Singapore Government. They are now in their 60′s to 80′s spread across the globe and filmmaker Tan Pin Pin travels from Malaysia to Thailand to the English countryside to interview them. What she discovers is that the idea of Singapore is still very much on their minds. “Singapore oh Singapore, you are still on my mind, today and everyday” intones a poem written by one of them. As they recount their lives, we see a city that could have been. A love letter to Singapore, from the outside.

The film was banned from public screening in Singapore on 10 September 2014, with the reasons that it “undermined national security”. Despite a petition by the film community and a re-submission by the filmmaker, the Film Appeals Committee upheld the ban. Outside Singapore, the film can be seen freely with no restrictions. Sold-out screening tours have been organised in USA, UK, Hong Kong, Taiwan and Malaysia. It has also screened and won awards at film festivals in Korea, UAE, Thailand and Malaysia.

How to watch
The film can only be privately screened in Singapore or in Singapore tertiary institutions if certain conditions are met. In addition, the film has been barred from being released through a VOD portal so it is only accessible to those logging in from a non-Singapore IP address via Vimeo.

Apprentice (2016, 96 min) by Boo Junfeng

Alan Shadrake wrote a book about Singapore’s death penalty called ‘Once a Jolly Hangman’ based on in-depth interviews with Singapore’s chief executioner for almost 50 years, Darshan Singh and other accounts of high profile cases. Based on this book, Apprentice tells the story of Sergeant Aiman who gets transferred to a maximum security prison and incidentally lands himself in the shoes of the apprentice to the country’s chief executioner, Rahim. Through the process of learning the ropes (pardon the pun) of the job, he confronts the horrors of the execution process, his personal past in which his own father was hanged, as well as the moral dilemma of performing the job of pulling the plug.

Watching the film will make you marvel at how well-researched the film is and the maturity it displays in dealing with such complex emotions and personal struggles. Not being able to film this at Changi Prison, the crew built the fictitious Larangan Prison, a “Frankenstein” of a prison, patched together using multiple locations in Singapore and Australia. Apprentice had its world premiere at the Cannes Film Festival in 2016, in the Un Certain Regard section, and subsequently travelled to over 60 film festivals around the world. And it has a 88% rating on Rotten Tomatoes.

Here is our review of the film.
https://www.sindie.sg/2016/12/film-review-apprentice-boojunfeng.html

How to watch
You can purchase the DVD at the Objectifs Centre for Photography and Film for $30. https://www.objectifs.com.sg/product/apprentice-dvd-boo-junfeng/

Snakeskin (2015, 105 min) by Daniel Hui

It is the year 2066, and the sole survivor of an enigmatic cult recounts his country's traumatic history and the events that led to the rise and collapse of this cult. As he reminiscences, ghosts from 2014 and the years before appear as witnesses. Part dream documentary, part city symphony, this hybrid film traces the lineage of oppression as inscribed both in Singapore's physical landscape, as well as its collective unconscious. The narrative voice-over reflects on that which is forgotten, subjective, and polymorphic in history. Snakeskin is a thoughtful look at the legacy and future of Singapore, using a collection of narratives interweaved with one another to form a tapestry of memories associated with Singapore. The common thread running through these stories is an attempt to revisit and dismantle a certain version of ‘history’. Singapore’s first prime minister Lee Kuan Yew died in the year 2015, the year this film was released, and the debates that have surfaced about who owns the Singapore story (or rather ‘success story’) and all the SG50-induced nostalgia gave this film its political relevance. As Daniel shared in his interview with SINdie, he was interested in thinking about the national founding myth and he realised there were many histories that were either erased or purposefully forgotten, such as Malay cinema and the Chinese leftist movement.

Here is our review of the film
https://www.sindie.sg/2015/11/review-snakeskin-by-daniel-hui.html
Here is our interview with Daniel Hui
https://www.sindie.sg/2015/11/production-talk-with-daniel-hui-on.html

How to watch
The film is currently unavailable in public, but you can write to 13littlepictures@gmail.com to request for the film.

I Dream of Singapore (2019, 78 min) by Lei Yuan Bin

I Dream of Singapore is an immersive, almost meditative documentary that revolves around the journey of Feroz, a migrant worker. Feroz suffered a terrible injury on his abdomen at a construction site and was denied proper medical treatment by his employer. Under the care of social workers from Dayspace, he awaits his return home. We witness the recovery of Feroz, alongside the acute loneliness he faces for most of his days. By trailing a single migrant worker’s journey back home, the film expands its vision from individual to community: we are invited to the migrant’s home, family, and the larger community of Bangladesh as well. Interweaving between the natural worlds and cityscapes of Bangladesh and Singapore, the film captures the broken bodies, stoic faces, surveilled dormitories, and sprawling construction sites plus shipyards that make up the migrant-labour flow from one of the world’s poorest countries to one of the richest. Ultimately, it casts a humanising light on a hot button topic of 2020 - migrant workers in Singapore and their trials and tribulations.

Here is our review of the film
https://www.sindie.sg/2019/11/review-i-dream-of-singapore-2019-sgiff.html

How to watch
The film is available on Video on Demand at $9.99 in this link. https://vimeo.com/ondemand/idreamofsingapore

Unteachable (2019, 77 min) by Yong Shu Ling and Lisa Teh

Education has always been a hotly contested topic in Singapore. Adding to the intensity is increased awareness of how our system measures up to that of other exam-driven powerhouses (South Korea, China), or of countries which take an entirely different approach altogether (the Nordic countries, most notably Finland). Unteachable follows the story of Damian, a struggling teenager at the bottom rung of Singapore’s academic ladder, and a young teacher Meixi, who is on a mission to transform the way learning is conducted in classes like his. Meixi grew up under the grades-centric system in Singapore and she challenges teenagers like Damian, deemed “unteachable” by society, to rekindle their natural love for learning. Convinced that the best way to master a subject is to take ownership of both learning and teaching, Meixi introduces Tutoriá (Tutorial Relationships) in Damian’s classroom. Originally from Mexico, Tutoriá redefines everything students and teachers think they know about learning in school. The documentary follows her on this mission to make Tutoriá succeed and the various obstacles she faces. “Mistakes are important”, says one of Meixi’s colleagues who makes several appearances in the film, appearing obliging at the start. But when push comes to shove, the time he spared Damian to clarify his Math answer was cursory. He quipped, “We just don’t have the time.”

Here is our review of the film
https://www.sindie.sg/2020/05/film-review-unteachable-2019.html

How to watch
Follow the official Unteachable film site to get the latest information on the next screening of the film. https://unteachablefilm.squarespace.com/watch-the-film

The Songs We Sang // 我们唱着的歌 (2015, 128 min) by Eva Tang

On the surface, this film seems just like an anthology of xinyao (新谣) music over its active decade in the 80s and early 90s, something made for diehard fans of xinyao. But the film The Songs We Sang by Eva Tang proves to be more than nostalgic or a trip down memory lane. It is a history lesson that answers and also raises so many questions, with an undeniable nuance of pain and regret. Like why Mandarin has become the poorer cousin of English as the choice language among many Singaporean Chinese. Like the tumultuous chapter in Singapore’s education history that is Nanyang University and its eventual shutting down. Framed against the socio-political events that shaped Singapore and our culture, the film depicts a coming-of-age of our identity and attaches context and meaning behind the most recognisable xinyao hits sung over the years. One scene that stands out showcases former students of Nanyang University reuniting in a choral rendition of 挥手. One look across the choir screams ‘pioneer generation’ but it’s so hard to fathom the fact that some of them were part of the only kind of student activism we ever had in Singapore. They held more placards and banners than we’ve ever done for G-dragon and BTS.

Here is our review of the film
https://www.sindie.sg/2017/03/stop10-mar-2017-songs-we-sang-by-eva.html

How to watch
The film is currently not available but you can follow the official The Songs We Sang // 我们唱着的歌 facebook page to get the latest information on the next screening of the film. https://www.facebook.com/thesongswesang

1987: Untracing the Conspiracy (2015, 54 min) by Jason Soo

Filmmaker and art history lecturer Jason Soo found his film story after reading the book Beyond The Blue Gate by ex-detainee Teo Soh Lung. The film covers Operation Spectrum, an operation where 22 people were arrested under Singapore’s Internal Security Act (ISA) in 1987, accused of being involved in a Marxist conspiracy to establish a communist state. The detainees were tortured and then coerced into implicating themselves and their friends on public television. Featuring interviews with ex-detainees and political exiles, the film focuses on the first 30 days of their ordeal, including various physical and psychological techniques used by their interrogators. Very little is known about Operation Spectrum by the younger generation Singaporeans and Jason hopes this film will generate discourse among them. The film had been awarded the Best Southeast Asian Feature at Freedom Film Festival 2015 and had a limited run at The Projector.

Here is our interview with Jason Soo on the film
https://www.sindie.sg/2017/02/stop10-feb-2017-1987-untracing.html

How to watch
The film is available on YouTube for all to watch. Here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBJqJroWt3E

1965 (2015, 130 min) by Daniel Yun and Randy Ang

There was some hype built around the film 1965 mainly from early news that Tony Leung would play the role of Lee Kuan Yew in a star-studded production. Singapore actor Lim Kay Tong filled those shoes instead in the end in what became one of the several SG50 cinematic tributes in 2015. 1965 is a historical film marking Singapore’s independence. Framed through the perspective of Adi, a senior Malay man living in modern times, the film takes you through a period of rising racial tensions in Singapore, leading up to Singapore’s separation from Malaysia. A cast of thousands and elaborate set designs aside, the film raises questions about racial identity and national identity in a nation where immigrants form a large part of the social fabric. With what’s happening around the world, conversations about race cannot be more pertinent and urgent.

Here is our interview with producer Daniel Yun and director Randy Ang
https://www.sindie.sg/2015/08/production-talk-with-producer-daniel.html
Here is our review of the film
https://www.sindie.sg/2015/08/review-1865.html

How to watch
The film is available for watching on DVD. One place to buy it is Books Kinokuniya. https://singapore.kinokuniya.com/bw/9556100001849

The Return (2015, 83 min) by Green Zeng

The film follows Wen, an ex-political detainee, as he returns to society after many years of imprisonment. Arrested for being an alleged communist, he returns, an old man, to an uneasy reunion with his children. Wen also wanders through the city to see how his homeland has transformed into a shining metropolis. He is philosophical about his long detainment without trial and is ready to move on. But as the past collides with the present, unforeseen circumstances force his journey to take a tragic turn. The Return was selected for Venice International Film Critics' Week in July 2015 and has screened at several film festivals worldwide from Cairo to Hanoi to Kerala.

Here is our interview with filmmaker Green Zeng
https://www.sindie.sg/2017/02/stop10-feb-2017-return-by-green-zeng.html

How to watch
The film is currently unavailable in public, but you can write to mirtillofilms@yahoo.com.sg to request for the film.

Singapore Rebel (2005, 26 min) by Martyn See

This short film by Martyn See is a chronicle of an early chapter of the political career of Dr Chee Soon Juan. Today, more of us have come to know about Dr Chee’s life thanks to social media but back then, due to the lack of channels, a documentary like this packed volumes. Dr Chee’s life has been quite a journey and so has this film’s. In 2005, the Singapore government banned the film, and Martyn was subjected to 18 months of police investigation for alleged violation of the Films Act. It was eventually passed by the censors in 2009 with a rating of M18 (Mature audience 18 years old). Singapore Rebel can be considered one of the earliest politically-themed films in Singapore and following that, Martyn has gone on to make other films such as ‘Zahari’s 17 Years’, a documentary on an ex-political detainee, and ‘Speakers Cornered’, a chronology of brief scenes from a street corner standoff between pro-democracy activists and the police.

How to watch
The film is available on YouTube for all to watch. Here is the link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHlu6Tt8bmk

Politics is not for everyone but it doesn’t hurt to get a little education.

↧

Brian Gothong Tan: "I just wanted to express what I know and feel."

July 11, 2020, 2:37 pm

≫ Next: ShoutOUT! Viddsee Juree Awards Singapore 2020

≪ Previous: 10 Singapore films that can give you some political education

Brian Gothong Tan is an award-winning visual artist and filmmaker. An alumnus of California Institute of Arts, he works extensively across a multitude of artistic fields—from designing multimedia for theatrical productions that have toured globally, to making art-works which have exhibited worldwide and lensing films that have shown at film festivals such as Cannes and Berlin.

In Lost Cinema 20/20, an iteration of the Lost Cinema project that was previously staged at the Institute of Contemporary Arts Singapore, Tan further probes the relationship(s) between history, memory, dreaming, and the filmic mode in a dazzling production that blends installation with text and performance.

Here, Tan speaks to SINdie about his creative process and inspirations for the piece.

What inspired Lost Cinema?

I had many inspirations over the years. One was this three channel video installation by Catherine Sullivan that I saw in Los Angeles a long time ago—the form of it just blew a young me away. Another was the artist Isaac Julien, with whom I showed in an exhibition in Melbourne in 2006. While I knew of his works from before, I was quite inspired by his philosophy after talking to him. I would say that my knowledge of cinema back then was pretty standard, and it was not until I saw works of video art and experimental cinema that I realised we can think outside the box with the cinematic form. I was also very much interested in the idea of dreams; in my art practice, a lot of my inspirations come from my own dreams. So then I started reading about the nature of dreams and found out that there is actually a very strong link between filmmaking and dreaming. When we dream, our subconscious takes memories, perceptions, and all these sensory inputs and then conjures our dream while we are asleep; in a way, it is very much like filmmaking, where you film scenes and then edit it to finally create a film.

All these are, of course, very abstract, and so I wanted to express this idea in a form that is understandable. I knew I did not want to create a piece that is very philosophical—I am not writing an essay. I just wanted to express what I know and feel. With this in mind, I started this project and applied for a grant to explore what this idea of cinema and dreaming was all about. From then on, I took my inspiration from three different filmmakers who I know: Wong Kar-wai, Eric Khoo, and Apichatpong Weerasethakul. With Wong Kar-wai, I like the way he works; he does not really use a script, he just creates and films for months. Meanwhile, Eric Khoo’s 12 Storeys was the film that made me want to go into filmmaking when I was younger. Lastly, Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s Tropical Malady really bowled me over… in a way, it is like I tried to condense these three filmmakers into a love letter. This is the starting point.

What have changed since it was last shown at ICA Singapore?

There were a few major changes, or evolution, I would say. With this showing at Esplanade for The Studio season… well, everybody knows that this is theatre. So, of course, to translate a video installation with a live performance component into a theatre piece is already a change of format. While originally I wanted to do a durational performance, that is maybe five hours long with screens just going on and on, eventually I decided that I should just condense it and make it a more theatrical experience, just perhaps not a standard one.

I roped in Kaylene Tan, a writer whose works I have admired for a long time since she started the performance company Spell#7. In a way, our interests intersect because she had already created nonlinear works before, and her texts are so very poetic and beautiful. I invited her in and now there is the use of text in this iteration. And naturally, I have also brought in more theatre performers to contribute to the piece. While the backbone of this work is still the installation, I would say that I have built more and more layers on top of it. I like to break boundaries. No matter if I am making a film or a piece of theatre, I want to break the boundaries and conventions of the form. However, I also need my creative decisions to be practical—it would be quite impossible to do the five hour performance as I initially wanted, and so, I have decided to merge both considerations into this one piece.

When you watch Lost Cinema 20/20, you will be able to see bits of everything: sometime you may recognise a character arc, sometimes it is more performative, and other times it is almost meditative.

What was your working process like for this?

As I started working with Kaylene, I knew I had to find an entry point to start for the both of us. In my case, I have been on this project for years—I have quite literally been dreaming and thinking about it since I was 21. However, this work is a brand new encounter for Kaylene, and so I decided to be very practical in finding an entry point for her to meet with this idea of cinema and dreams.

Eventually, I went to the Cathay Gallery—which was basically the only film museum we have in Singapore—and then I said that, we can start right here, from the Golden Age of Singapore cinema onwards. I had previously worked on the SG50 commemorations and was then working on the Singapore Bicentennial, so a lot of these ideas of history and memory and dreams was coming up in my mind. I went to the Gallery, and then realised, that there was so much information there about so many of the things that we have lost—things which I was specifically interested in, such as the important Malay films that Cathay-Keris Studio had produced. All this resonated with the idea of Lost Cinema, and so Kaylene and I began to look into it, searching for characters and stories. We dug and dug, but still treating it much like the way we dream up dreams. We read and watched and what we felt resonated with the project, we just picked and chose. We were like the subconscious mind making a dream for a sleeper. And then we just wait and see what we have mixed up and created. My working process was very organic, in this way.

Lastly, how did you come up with the title of Lost Cinema 20/20? Was it just a pun on vision or—?

You are right! I was referencing, of course, the idea of the 20/20 vision and also the fact that this work is being shown in the year 2020. For me, the idea was that when you wake up, you lose your dreams, and if your dreams are your cinema, then you lose your cinema every morning. We are our own directors; we make films in our dreams every night, and when we wake up we forget them—this is the lost cinema.

Lost Cinema 20/20 will premiere on Esplanade Offstage from 12 July, Sun, 3pm and be available online until 18 July, Sat, 11.59pm.

Text/Photography - Alfonse Chiu

↧

ShoutOUT! Viddsee Juree Awards Singapore 2020

July 12, 2020, 7:53 pm

≫ Next: Student Voices: Here are five compelling ones from the National Youth Film Awards

≪ Previous: Brian Gothong Tan: "I just wanted to express what I know and feel."

Viddsee is hosting their latest Juree Awards Singapore, the third one held in the city state. Viddsee has just opened up their call for entries to Singaporean short film makers on 30 June.

Viddsee is hosting their latest Juree Awards Singapore, the third one held in the city state.

What is it?

Viddsee Juree Awards is an annual industry pick award celebrating best short films from Singapore, Indonesia and the Philippines. In each edition, the countries’ brightest talents and storytellers submit their films to a panel of international judges, who will then handpick the winning entries. Viddsee amplifies the out-of-competition entries and finalists to our audience communities.

This year, Viddsee Juree Awards Singapore 2020 will take place online, allowing us to keep everyone connected through online film screenings, insightful talks with the film community, and live awarding.

All the details are available here: https://www.viddsee.com/submit/juree/singapore2020

When is it?

The film festival and awards ceremony is due to take place on 21 Nov. But before that can happen, we’re asking Singaporean filmmakers to submit their short films for consideration from now until 12 Aug.

Who are the judges?

The winners are determined by a panel of judges comprising Singapore-based producer Juan Foo from Taipan Films; Filipino producer Alemberg Ang, who recently won at the recent Cannes Doc; and Kiki Fung, the programmer for the Hong Kong International Film Festival.

What do filmmakers stand to win?

The Gold winner stands to win a MacBook Air, Viddsee merchandise, and more. All 10 finalists will also have Adobe’s 12-month Creative Cloud All Apps subscription and finalist certificates. All submissions will also be featured on viddsee.com.

How can filmmakers take part?

Entry is free -- all they need to do is head to https://www.viddsee.com/submit/juree/singapore2020 and start the submission process. All the details are available on the site as well. S

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Student Voices: Here are five compelling ones from the National Youth Film Awards

July 20, 2020, 9:42 pm

≫ Next: ShoutOUT! ''Sunday'' and ''Lady E’s Wedding Revenge Plan'' take home top honours at National Youth Film Awards

≪ Previous: ShoutOUT! Viddsee Juree Awards Singapore 2020

Sitting through over 120 short films is a chore. Sounds like jury duty? Yes indeed. And I tried my very best to keep ‘viewing conditions’ similar for all short films. Like not snacking on ice-cream or answering my mum’s messages when viewing the films. I was once again on the pre-jury of the National Youth Film Awards in Singapore in which we have to shortlist films for the finals. But this chore had a mission, at least for me. I am generally curious about what new filmmakers are wrapping their heads around. And having sifted through numerous student films (I was in the media student category), the filmmakers could be clearly divided into two camps, the vocal and the fan boys or fan girls. Not to be shady, imitation is not entirely an artless affair. A fair amount of craft is involved. But nothing stirs the heart more than a filmmaker with an earnest voice, never mind the aesthetics. Here are five filmmakers who NEED an introduction.

She is a 'stalker'

Chew Yun Yan, LA SALLE College of the Arts, His Bottom Line

Filmmaker Chew Yun Yan found a friend in 57-year old bachelor Ah Guan and just would not let go of him. Thanks to her dogged obsession, we are given a window into the life of an ordinary man whose daily musings in between his mundane routines are more captivating than your typical over-featured documentary-worthy good samaritan. In fact, there is nothing noble about Ah Guan and despite being lonely and desperate, he remains adamant about his one key requirement for a partner - she must have a nice back. As determined as Ah Guan to find his sweetheart, Yun Yan follows him all the way to Vietnam where he does some heavy duty back inspection. It gets as close as speaking to him in his shower. It is awkward but it is precisely the awkwardness that makes this documentary a stand out.

How did you get to know the man in the documentary? And what made you decide to make a documentary on him?

My producer and I found Ah Guan online on Instagram when he was going semi-viral! He had his contact number on his signage, so I jokingly proposed contacting him as one of subjects for our thesis documentary film - but after meeting him, his eagerness and friendly disposition really made it easy to build a relationship with. He was so excited that we could promote his search for a wife by documenting it, so I thought that we could kill 2 birds with 1 stone and help him with his cause!

You obviously earned his trust enough for him to allow you to film several really private moments. Why the decision to get so close? And how did you build enough trust to get so close?

Becoming close to Ah Guan was inevitable for me. I had planned to follow him throughout his romantic journey and I really wanted to understand his reasons for his eccentric methods and most importantly, his obsession with a ‘nice back’. He just felt like the normal, kiasu uncle that every family had and was already familiar to me in that sense. I think the fact that he was lonely contributed to his excitement in the project as well. I’d like to think I temporarily became a sort of daughter/grand-daughter like figure for him. I am curious how you handled the scene in which you were conversing with him while he was showering? It was a tricky shooting that shower scene because our entire film crew was female except for our cinematographer! We had to position ourselves in certain spots in the hotel room, so we wouldn’t make Ah Guan or anyone in the team uncomfortable. All questions were asked after shooting his makeover to gauge his enthusiasm for his date. They were edited over the shower scene in post production.

How would you describe your personality or rather what makes your perspective different from others?

I’m a hoot. I mean, I’d like to think so. I’m very vocal about my opinions and my bad jokes. Most times I imagine a camera in the distance shooting my everyday life like it’s an episode of The Office. I love injecting humour into every situation and I think that comes from my dad. Humour is everything for me. Morally, we’re all steeped in this big grey pool of muck with no real solution for change sometimes. And when we laugh about it, it makes it a little better.

What do you think Singapore cinema should see more of?

More of absurdist comedies, fantasy and horror. Fun, crazy and memorable scenes for families to laugh and talk about for a long time. I still think back to I Not Stupid and the one scene where the spoilt brat Terry was kidnapped and yelled at his kidnappers for Pink Dolphin and white bread for his breakfast. That scene is magical.

Playing with fire, in the classroom

Gerard Nagulendran, Ngee Ann Polytechnic, Kebelakang Pusing

This is another piece with odd ends and genre transfusions. A story about a group of students who take their history class reenactment too seriously, the film straddles between thrills, gore, psychological drama and absurdity. The fact that the film does not sink into a familiar construct makes the piece exciting. Three teenage NCC student cadets are asked to role play are Japanese soldiers during the Japanese occupation during history class and the taste of power proves so addictive that they bring the role play to the edge, giving Gerard the director a small window of opportunity to unleash some alternate universe sadism. For all its apparent originality, the irony in this is that the film is based on an actual happening in an actual secondary school. But of course, it is all about the, pardon the pun, execution.

Your film certainly straddled a few genres and breached several comfort markers. Take us through how your film's concept was born.

There was this Straits Times article from February 1999 I read online a couple years back regarding a real-life event that was almost too insane to be true- the Jin Tai Secondary School incident. It was a story about how 8 NCC Cadets (that were actually poly/ITE students) were enlisted by a Secondary School’s principal and NCC teacher to carry out a Total Defence Day exercise, to “simulate the Japanese Occupation of Singapore and teach students the importance of psychological defence”. But things got out of hand and they started punching & kicking the students and some of them even had to be hospitalised. (Meanwhile, the NCC teacher-in-charge was away on a workshop, and the principal only peeked into the hall for a while, thought everything seemed fine, then left.) There was no proper resolution to the incident, and the 8 NCC Cadets even denied ever laying a finger on the students. After I read it, I absolutely had to shoot something based off of this. It was too much of an incredulous concept (NCC Cadets of all people, getting drunk with power and beating other students up) to not film.

I see elements of various influences in your film include shades of a Battle Royale and other thriller or gore flicks. What are some of your influences?

That’s interesting, I watched Battle Royale as a kid but never actually considered it while writing Kebelakang Pusing. I wasn’t really looking for shock value when coming up with the script. I wanted to focus on a “Lord of the Flies” approach to portray young, untrained boys being put in positions of power and how they ultimately abuse it; not because they are intrinsically evil but because of the responsibility of said power. The Stanford Prison Experiment (2015) was a film that portrayed a similar concept, preaching that just the uniformity and illusion of authority is enough for both ‘guards’ and ‘prisoners’ to truly believe that the former had power over the latter, even if it was meant to be a simulation.

Do you consider yourself rebellious?

Other than jaywalking a lot, I believe I’m rather mild-mannered, despite what this film implies.

How would you describe your personality or rather what makes your perspective different from others?

I guess I can only speak for my film school cohort….Compared to them, I find myself much more biased towards the audience’s experiences rather than what I want to see on screen. Throughout a project, I’m very self-conscious as to who is going to watch this and how I want them to remember it. I think I’m also frugal with how much I want to say in the script, because I believe a short film is at its strongest in its simplest form.

What do you think Singapore cinema should see more of?

Sensational concepts. I really want to see filmmakers in Singapore produce exciting works that make people HAVE to catch it in cinema. Push the boundaries of what is “okay” to show. I don’t want writers to conform to what they think is an easy screenplay to sell, like another depressing family drama or slapstick comedy.

Do you find yourself unknowingly practising self-censorship being a filmmaker in Singapore? How do you deal with that?

Self-censorship with how I speak, yes. Not so much when it comes to filmmaking, because I really feel that the arts should be entitled to free speech even in Singapore. With Kebelakang Pusing, I didn’t put much thought into censoring myself as I was more focused on the characters rather than what their actions represented on a social spectrum. I remember when my team screened the rough cut to one of our lecturers for feedback, and they were so shocked at how political the film was for them- so much so that they demanded we do not include them in the Special Thanks credits to avoid the “legal ramifications” of this film’s release.

Living in his own head

Mark Chee, LA SALLE College of the Arts, GUNKWORLD

I would be very careful to put the label ‘rebel’ on a filmmaker. Royston Tan was given the name enfant terrible of Singapore in the early 2000s for his bold and raw depiction of street kids in films like 15. But Singapore films over the years have shown that rebellion comes in many shades. Watching GUNKWORLD may lead one to conjure the R word again. With its riot of loud, colourful and compressed visuals blended together in a deliberate mess, one gets the impression that filmmaker Mark Chee is out there to make a scene literally. But this man is somewhat more geek than gungho, even though his film suggests otherwise. GUNKWORLD is about a horror cult cartoon series on TV where the main characters are cute monster schoolchildren who terrorise human characters. However, what takes place outside the realm of the TV show is more sinister, involving subliminal indoctrination on a global scale by the GUNKWORLD ad campaign.

Take us through some of the influences in the style and treatment we see in GUNKWORLD.

We can break down GUNKWORLD into 2 main styles: the 'cult cartoon style' and the 'real world style'. The motivation behind the 'cult cartoon style' segments in the film came as a personal response to the paralyzing pressure of the need to compete globally, chasing popular established ideas of technically sound and beautiful art as an entertainment artist. For my personal work, I wanted to explore ideas of creating appealing designs and stories from a different angle, with a focus on keywords like; crude, ambiguous, raw, cult, playful, simple, mascot and merchandise. I had been developing this 'GUNKMAN' style before plans for the film began, and naturally it continued into becoming the key driving force behind GUNKWORLD. Some big inspirations are Nekojiru, animations by AC-bu, Garo Magazine and Bikkuriman, these stories and designs resonate deeply with my current artistic journey.

The 'real world style' in GUNKWORLD came out of necessity to create a contrast to the cartoon world in the film's story, while keeping the limited animation style and quirky atmosphere. Masaaki Yuasa's Mind Game (2004) and a motion graphic trailer for the Japanese band Maximum The Hormone were big inspirations for those segments. It was important to not be too realistic in these segments so that there was still space for a separation in style for the final segment of the film.

How would you describe your personality or rather what makes your perspective different from others?

I am generally a shy person, but sometimes I have this deep urge to go against what people tell me to do (I think maybe growing up in a Christian household with a bossy mother had a big part to play with that haha, thanks mom). This urge has evolved into me mostly wasting time on thought experiments, constantly questioning pre-established ideas and ways of doing things ... then questioning those new takes as well. I therefore live in my head a lot, filled with nonsensical ideas while awake and asleep. I also like cult manga!

What do you think Singapore cinema should see more of?

Honestly I'm guilty of not being too involved as much as I'd like to be with Singapore cinema. However, from my limited perspective, I think I'd like to see something entertaining and catchy enough as a brand emerging out from perhaps not only local cinema, but any local media in general that can be franchised and inadvertently represent Singapore as a global hit. "Oh I love that cute character from that TV Series/Movie/Comic made by that dude in Singapore! Look! I even have this **** key-chain! Also, I am from America." ... I guess I just want GUNKWORLD to be a reality hehehe.

Adulting is not for everyone

Lea Wong and Viency Lee, Nanyang Technological University, Breakfast

Breakfast, an animation short by filmmakers Lea Wong and Viency Lee, has the uncanny ability to borrow motifs and aesthetics from a foreign genre and yet make it hit so close to home. The 2D animated film presents a chance encounter at a coffee shop that brings two childhood friends together for a meal. But instead of bringing them closer, the encounter reveals how far their lives have drifted. The stylistics of the film are somewhat foreign (yet familiar for anime fans) and borrowed. How Japanese can one get when your egg yolk starts moving faster than you can say Gudetama? The clean, blended hues and stylised texturing on objects are also reminiscent of the 2016 hit Japanese animated feature Your Name. Yet, its nuanced reference to real and familiar struggles of Singaporeans caught in the rat-race gives this film some unexpected depth towards the end.

What was the inspiration behind your film?

Our film and its conception took shape at a major moment of transition in our lives. It felt like yesterday that we had just entered University, but that point of our lives had flashed by so quickly and we were soon facing down another major transition into adulthood. With which comes all the things you never really had to think about before, like employment and planning out your future. And all around us were friends and acquaintances who seemed so driven and prepared to chase down the futures that they wanted, which simply added to that overwhelming feeling of being left behind. That sense of anxiety was something that we felt was universal to all, something worth talking about.

If you could make an animated feature, what would it be about?

Lea: If I could make an animated feature, it would probably be about daily life from the perspective of a student and how they see the world around them, completely filtered through their imagination. So, lots of crazy colours, imaginative daydreaming and looking out of classroom windows. I think there would be a lot to explore!

Viency: I think I've always leaned towards something more magical and fantastical. As someone also with an avid interest in the representation of Asian culture in animated films, I'd love to work on a film that integrates that as well. It'd definitely be a mix of the two, very colourful and rich with worldbuilding. I'd love to include minority voices that are in dire need of representation in such a film too.

How would you describe your personality or rather what makes your perspective different from others?

Lea: I would say that I’m quite reflective by nature. I like to think about why I feel a certain way and how that is influenced by my surroundings or situation.

Viency: I think I have a tendency to retreat and step back into myself, which I think offers me the chance to observe what happens around me. I like to consider the reasons why such situations occur, or why people act in certain ways. I feel like it allows me to stay more centered, and also helps me understand that there can be multiple perspectives and attitudes.

What do you think Singapore cinema should see more of?

Lea: Personally, I would like to see more films by filmmakers about regular Singaporean life. Just normal, everyday life and situations or struggles that we’ve all found familiar at some moment in our lives. It would also be really interesting if they were animated, because I think that you can tell a lot about how someone sees their world through their art.

Viency: As someone who enjoys strong narratives but also a good fiction story, I'm quite partial to original stories with fantasy or sci-fi elements. I like the way fictional narratives can sometimes be used to very cleverly reference real world struggles. Whenever I see these two cross paths, I get really excited!

Nobody’s made Kumar sound more serious

Nevin Jacob, Nanyang Technological University, Unite in Laughter

Filmmaker Nevin did not need to go very far to find the taboo and the uncomfortable in exploring Singapore’s social fabric in a film. They are just on the flip side of what appears flawless and glossy in sanitised Singapore. Tragedy and comedy are two sides of the same coin. When the the curtains drop after another stand-up comedy set, Kumar has some real issues to talk about. Nevin’s film Unite in Laughter engages the audience not just because it gives us an exposition on three larger-than-life characters, but because it is able to pick out jokes, deconstruct them and expose some of the thorns beneath without sensationalising them and frame the issues in relatable ways. All in all, a documentary about the skin we are in, that is more than skin deep.

Your ironic exposition of the comedian psyche reflects a mature sociological understanding of Singapore. What led to the idea behind this documentary? It seems extremely well-thought through and layered.

Well the idea of this documentary was planted through a quote I read that the late Lee Kuan Yew had said during a post-independence speech in 1965. He metaphorically coined Singapore like a durian as the fruit that has this hard exterior but also this soft flesh in the interior. I wanted to explore this dichotomy between our interior and exterior identities. While thinking about this contrast, I realised that comedians innately carry this dual identity on and off stage, and they take a leap of faith in their identities. While coming back to Singapore’s identity, I think Lee Kuan Yew took a leap of faith in our identity in 1965, and today I think it's time we start looking at what is the leap of faith we take today, reflecting on our interior and exterior. This was the start of the documentary when I first pitched it and it of course has evolved since then over the year we made this film. Fun fact, the documentary was first titled “The Durian Identity''.

Quote: If they could have just squeezed us like an orange and squeezed the juice out, I think the juice would have been squeezed out of us, and all the goodness would have been sucked away. But it was a bit harder, wasn't it? It was more like the durian. You try and squeeze it, your hand gets hurt. And so they say, "Right, throw out the durian." But inside the durian is a very useful ingredient, high protein. And we will progress.

Lee Kuan Yew, Former Prime Minister of Singapore, 1965

One of the achievements of the film is getting comedian Kumar to open up. I have never ever seen a more serious side to him. How did you do that?

Kumar, is one of the most honest and funny critiques of Singapore and Singaporeans. His ability to connect on such a grounded level really brings people together and just allows us to laugh at ourselves about who we are as people. I have worked with him on a documentary titled Laughing Till it Hurts, which was made in 2016, and that allowed us to explore a more personal side of him. While pitching Unite in Laughter, I met up with him a few times over a meal and we would chat about Singapore, and I realised that more than being funny, there was a critical side of him that made a lot of sense for us to just reflect. I made sure I could tap on that through the interview and allow that to be the voice narrating the story. And a lot of times, we don’t recognise what goes beyond the stage for performers like Kumar. I intended to explore that person beyond the stage which allowed me to show the personal side of his life.

Since your documentary also touches on identity, what's your take on the recent debate on race in Singapore during the GE and what's come out of it?

Race has always been a topic that has been on my mind as I made this documentary. I think innately we pride ourselves as a multi-racial and religious society, and definitely we have come a long way in our identity as a nation. Being a minority in Singapore, I have gone through periods of racism and I always wondered what it would take for us to see beyond race and the skin colour. I think the GE has allowed for a discourse on race issues, but at the same time it is clear that these are difficult conversations then we need to have more often and not avoid them.

How would you describe your personality or rather what makes your perspective different from others?

This is a really tough question. I think I’m someone very observant and I love people watching. I learn so much from just sitting at a coffee shop or café and watching the people in these places and learning about the idiosyncrasies about ourselves. As creepy as it sounds, this allows me to just look at the society we live in and the stories around us. I think we don’t spend enough time reflecting on who we are as people. Being observant and relentless has allowed me to believe that there are good stories out there to be told.

What do you think Singapore cinema should see more of?

I think there should be more documentaries made about our country and the people that live amongst us. Being a small country is no excuse to say that we don’t have enough stories. While travelling, I have also realised that many people don’t know where Singapore is and the diversity we have as a society. I think cinema is a gateway for people locally and abroad to just look at our society and observe the imperfections along with the beauty.

Interview by Jeremy Sing

The National Youth Film Awards (NYFA) is a national award in Singapore that celebrates excellence among youth talents who are highly adept in their respective fields across the various aspects of film-making in Singapore. It seeks to instill a greater appreciation of film, fuel the passion for filmmaking, and generates opportunities for further development in their craft.

Here are the nominees for this year's awards:

https://www.scape.sg/media/nyfa/nyfa20nominees/

The National Youth Film Awards 2020 will be online for the first time in 6 years. Catch the announcement of the winning films on 25 July, 2 pm on Facebook Live. Till then, stay tuned to the National Youth Film Awards for more updates.

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ShoutOUT! ''Sunday'' and ''Lady E’s Wedding Revenge Plan'' take home top honours at National Youth Film Awards

July 25, 2020, 2:10 am

≫ Next: Short Film Review: Sanctissima (2015)

≪ Previous: Student Voices: Here are five compelling ones from the National Youth Film Awards

Sunday

Sunday which depicts a young woman with a full body rash, driven to violence during a forbidden encounter with her sister’s boyfriend, emerged as one of the top favourites at the 6th National Youth Film Awards (NYFA). Organised by *SCAPE, the annual awards took place over Facebook live on Saturday and announced a total of 26 winners. Directed by returning NYFA participant Kris Ong and produced by Tan Si En, who has worked with industry veterans such as Anthony Chen and Kirsten Tan, the film was conferred Best Screenplay and Best Live Action in the Open Youth Category. Best Cinematography went to Lincoln Yeo, who is a returning NYFA participant and now second-time winner. 32-year-old actress Vicki Yang, who played the lead role in “Sunday”, walked away with the Best Actress award.

Lady E’s Wedding Revenge Plan

Lady E’s Wedding Revenge Plan written, produced, and directed by Ngee Ann Polytechnic students was awarded Best Editing, Best Director, and Best Live Action in the Media Student category. The film follows an eccentric young girl’s journey to stopping her older sister’s wedding due to fears of growing up.

Actress Oon Shu Ann interviews Guest-of-Honour Senior Minister of State, Ministry of Communications and Information & Ministry of Culture, Community, and Youth, Sim Ann, during the ceremony

Animation entries tell a darker side of reality amongst Media Students Animations tackling issues such as societal pressures and suicide faired strongly in the Media Student category this year. GUNKWORLD gives audiences a glimpse of modern horror as seemingly innocent cartoon characters begin to invade every aspect of life. Directed and written by Mark Chee, and sound design by Johan Rashid Jesmee of LASALLE College of the Arts, the film clinched the Best Sound Design award. セクシーな寿司 Sexy Sushi centres around a suicide mascot’s rude awakening to the true meaning of his life. Directed by Calleen Koh of LASALLE College of the Arts, the animation was recognised as Best Art Direction.

GUNKWORLD

However, it was Caught Off Guard– a sweet, endearing story about fulfilling dreams – that clinched the Best Animation award in the Media Student category. Directed by Paul Ng of 3dsense Media School, the animation follows a security guard’s dream of becoming a ballet dancer. This is also the first time a student of 3dsense Media clinched an award in NYFA.

Caught Off Guard

Best Documentary was awarded to Bhanja by Cheong Wan Ting of Nanyang Technology University, while Best Original Music goes to Ridz Razali, composer for GurJeevaan Singh BalRose’s documentaryਵਛ$ੜਾ (Vichora).

Baby Boy

“Being a NYFA jury member for the first time, it was an eye-opening experience. I am impressed by these young filmmakers’ ability to offer fresh perspectives. I hope to be able to work with these youths one day, and I am looking forward to see where the next generation of filmmakers takes us,” said Actress Yeo Yann Yann shot to fame in 2013 for her striking performance in Cannes Caméra d’Or winning Ilo Ilo, directed by Anthony Chen.

Returning participants continue to build their careers in the Open Youth category Returning for the second time is 28-year-old Tan Wei Ting who won Best Editing for Under The Same Pink Sky. The live action film depicts a woman’s life after being diagnosed with breast cancer. This is Wei Ting’s second NYFA win. Her first was with her directorial debut film, CA$H, which won Best Direction in 2018.

Under The Same Pink Sky

Andre Quek and Jerrold Chong are also returning participants of NYFA. Both directors worked with Eric Khoo on the animation – The Brown Dog– which follows a dog’s struggles to survive in a harsh cruel human world. Based on a true story, the animation sound design was by Chong Xin Ying who received the Best Sound Design award.

The Brown Dog

The Best Animation goes to 看瞴 (Kua Bo). Directed by Ang Qing Sheng and produced by Jamin Wu, the animation follows the journey of a 60-year-old who made a mistake with the lottery results due to his cataract. The jury lauded the vivid film for capturing the Singapore heartland with surprising authenticity while taking the viewer on a trippy fantasy ride.

看瞴 (Kua Bo)

Earning a Special mention in the Open Youth category is Jerome Ng – an architect turned filmmaker. Proclaimed by a jury member as a “gorgeously made animation”, Metabolist Regeneration of a Dementia Nation documents the lives of a series of residents living in Golden Mile Complex, urging the audience to resist the power structures that would see urban memories erased.

Metabolist Regeneration of a Dementia Nation

Inviting opportunities Winners will have the opportunity to embark on a learning journey at the SeaShorts Film Festival which will be going online. These filmmakers will have the chance to engage in post-show dialogues with fellow filmmakers in the region, and have access to all films, masterclasses, and forums throughout the entire festival period. Up to six filmmakers will also get to showcase their film at the festival as part of a NYFA showcase. This opportunity is part of NYFA’s continuous efforts to offer young talents a multitude of exposure, gain regional film festival experience, and foster collaborations with other like-minded filmmakers. The NYFA alumni from 2019 and 2020 will also be invited to pitch their stories where five teams will be given seed funding to produce a short film each.

Here is the full list of winners:

GUNKWORLD(Animation)

Best Sound Designv - Johan Rashid Jesmee, Lasalle College of the Arts

セクシーな寿司 Sexy Sushi (Animation)

Best Art Direction - Calleen Koh Yee Lin, Lasalle College of the Arts

Lady E’s Wedding Revenge Plan (Live Action)

Best Editing - Rios Morales, Carlos Antonio, Ngee Ann Polytechnic

Best Director - Kathleen Bu Rui Xuan, Ngee Ann Polytechnic

Best Live Action - Niger Lim, Ngee Ann Polytechnic

Elephant in the Room(Documentary)

Best Cinematography - Kayson Lau, Lasalle College of the Arts

The Greatest Adventure to Nowhere (Live Action)

Best Screenplay - Kylen Ho, Nanyang Technological University

ਵਛ$ੜਾ (Vichora) (Documentary)

Best Original Music - Ridz Razali, Lasalle College of the Arts

Bhanja(Documentary)

Best Documentary - Cheong Wan Ting, Nanyang Technological University

Caught Off Guard(Animation)

Best Animation - Paul Ng Kwok Yang, 3dsense Media School

Baby Boy(Documentary)

Special Mention - Bambby Cheuk & Toby Wu, Nanyang Technological University

Sunday (Live action)

Best Screenplay - Kris Ong

Best Cinematography - Lincoln Yeo

Best Live Action - Tan Si En

The Brown Dog(Animation)

Best Sound Design - Chong Xin Ying

Still Standing(Live action)

Best Art Direction - Hanning Yap

Under The Same Pink Sky (Live action)

Best Editing - Tan Wei Ting

Best Director Gladys Ng

Class Mates(Animation)

Best Original Music - Vivien Yap & Nigel Cheah

Best Documentary - Dave Lim

看瞴 (Kua Bo) (Animation)

Best Animation - Jamin Wu

Metabolist Regeneration of a Dementia Nation (Animation)

Special Mention - Jerome Xin Hao Ng

What We May Be(Live Action)

Best Actor - Aric Hidir Amin

Sunday (Live Action)

Best Actress - Vicki Yang

Huang Jun Xiang – Youth Inspiration Award

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Short Film Review: Sanctissima (2015)

July 28, 2020, 4:50 am

≫ Next: Short Film Review: Happy Birthday, Great Grandma (2019)

≪ Previous: ShoutOUT! ''Sunday'' and ''Lady E’s Wedding Revenge Plan'' take home top honours at National Youth Film Awards

Warning: This article contains spoilers and discussion of abortion and rape

Watching Sanctissima by Kenneth Lim Dagatan left me feeling rather conflicted. While there were several instances of inspired narrative structure through effective use of editing and sound, the film seemed like a missed opportunity to examine a contemporary issue more critically.

Whether this was the director’s intention or not, there are several clear indications that the film is anti-abortion. Most notably, Marisa, the central figure of the film, feeds aborted foetuses to what is later revealed to be the child of a satanic demon figure. She promises the demon that she will continue to take care of the child, presumably by continuing her illegitimate abortion services in order to find it ‘food’. Through her, abortion thus seems to be an act of devil-worship. Secondly, the film ends with Marisa murdering a girl who sought an abortion because she was raped by a demon. This murder appears as an act of silencing victims of rape, and putting them at fault for terminating the resulting pregnancy.

Nevertheless, I am coming into this topic as someone who is not Filipino and whose views on abortion have been informed by living in countries where abortion is legal and cultural environments where this subject is not taboo. It is thus important to address the sociocultural context in which this film is made to give some background as to why the film would present this topic in such a negative light. In the Philippines, abortion is strictly illegal and the topic itself is highly stigmatized. As a result, there are many unofficial doctors who, much like Marisa in the film, illegally perform abortions, usually in highly unsafe and unsanitary conditions. According to a news report published in 2017 by Claudine Spera for The Guardian, an estimated 610,000 abortions happen per year through a variety of methods from ingesting herbs to pregnant women throwing themselves down staircases. As a result, three women die everyday in the Philippines from complications following a botched abortion.

When the film began with a shot of a woman screaming in pain, I thought that perhaps it would be a critique of this environment in which women have no other choice but to go to unlicensed individuals to terminate a pregnancy, gravely risking their own lives in the process. However, this was not quite the case. Instead, abortion is presented as a practice of voodoo or witchcraft and, through the numerous graphic shots of blood and waste, as something dirty. To me, presenting the issue of abortion from the lens of mysticism is an interesting artistic choice where the filmmaker has the potential to open up a dialogue about a contentious issue. This is not what I saw in Sanctissima. However, it is important to acknowledge that perhaps this is a dialogue that is very difficult to open up in the cultural context of the Philippines. I would imagine that the filmmaker would face censorship and other severe repercussions if it were their intention to be even slightly critical of abortion.

Where the film is successful is in its haptic emphasis on blood and human waste. Focusing our attention on the colour red, drawing parallels between dripping candle wax and blood. This heightens the sensory perception of the visuals, and thus emphasizes the pain of the process. However, for me, the film does not succeed beyond that because this emphasis on pain is framed within the narrative of abortion as devil-worship, making it seem evil and dirty. Depicting the issue in such a poor light is unsympathetic towards the plight of many women. Given the strict views against abortion in the Philippines, it seems all the more dangerous to make films that promote anti-abortion views, leaving little room for dialogue and debate.

The film can be viewed for free here.

Written by Tanvi Rajvanshi

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Short Film Review: Happy Birthday, Great Grandma (2019)

July 28, 2020, 4:57 am

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≪ Previous: Short Film Review: Sanctissima (2015)

Paphawee Jinnasith’s Happy Birthday, Great Grandma reminds me of Lulu Wang’s The Farewell, but not really. Both expound on the family relation between a young adult female and her grandmother who are two or three generations apart. But whereas The Farewell features an overflow of heartfelt sentiments, its Thailand counterpart portrays the seeming lack thereof. Set in contemporary Thailand, the short takes the perspective of Neung and follows the protagonist with her sister Song in their visit to an extended family reunion in celebration of their great-grandmother’s 100^th birthday.

While the title might seem to allude to an occasion of festivity and joy, the cyan tint of the film is explicit in suggesting otherwise. The sisters attend the gathering with much unease and discomfort, having to meet and interact with relatives who appear merely a tad bit more than strangers, knowing roughly what stage of life they are in and the family relations, but nothing more specific than that.

As opposed to the cheeriness of their mother, aunties and uncles, Neung and Song seem very detached from the celebration. Their rational mind is very clear on the matter – great-grandma’s age means that there can only be very few opportunities in the future for such a celebration – yet the heart fails to connect. While never said in detail, what could have configured this mismatch is possibly the non-existent relationship that they share with their great-grandmother.

Their distant relatives don’t fare any better, if not worse. An auntie’s mistaken identification of the two sisters, and an uncle’s uncovered display of scorn for Neung’s Bachelor of Arts hardly make up an affectionate environment.

In a partial state of mental disengagement from the happenings of the occasion, Neung’s sense of observation is heightened. The little utterance and bodily movements by the relatives all come under her scrutiny, revealing their nature as subjectively perceived by the protagonist. Some characteristics can be gleaned instantaneously: superficiality from the relatives who come just to take selfies with great-grandma; hypocrisy from the uncle who lectures Neung about the significance of making last few meaningful memories with great-grandma, yet at no times does he leave his seat in the living room except for family photo; and self-centredness of the boy who jovially blows the candles and takes the spotlight with his dance.

On the other hand, certain implications only surface through the course of the film. For instance, great-grandma’s exclamation, “Why is it always chicken rice?” betrays the aunties’ presumption of her fondness for the dish. The situation is subtly ironic: it takes Neung merely a few moments of unwilling talking and feeding great-grandma to realize the latter’s weariness of chicken rice, something that doesn’t seem to get noticed by any of the aunties who appear to surround great-grandma with profuse affection. They are perhaps too absorbed in their desire to care and express endearments for great-grandma, whether sincerely or just for the appearance, that they forget the simple act of listening. This is certainly made easier by the presupposition of great-grandma’s deafness and forgetfulness.

In fact, one particularly striking moment is that of a relative sharing a piece of information that great-grandma used to hate parties. One thus has good reasons to wonder if the celebration is for great-grandma, or in fact for the relatives themselves.

It’s clear that Neung and Song’s mother is the one who insists on their coming to the gathering, evident in her direction to buy the cake and the dismissal at Neung’s attempt to leave early. But perhaps the question is not about who makes them stay; rather, what. The film could have totally been about adolescents’ frustration at their parents’ expectations about familial duties, yet there is no build-up whatsoever of such resentment. Instead, Neung and Song obediently fulfil what their mom expects of them.

One likely possibility is that they do the deed out of respect for her mother. The photo-taking scene discloses something else. Neung is caught stealing glances at great-grandma, juxtaposed with a point-of-view shot from the former’s perspective. Perhaps Neung sees herself in great-grandma, for both are unable to speak for themselves and drowned in other people’s presumptions. Then it is possibly with empathy that Neung carries herself through the celebration.

The film resonates with me more than I would like to comfortably admit, and I dare say many young Asian adults who have certain familial obligations forced upon them probably share the same sentiments. This deeply personal story, as shared by the director on her social media, is decidedly well-written, packaging a multitude of nuances about contemporary Asian family life within a short span of 15 minutes. It’s certainly not an easy watch; but like truths about family relations, it’s never meant to be.

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ShoutOUT! Objectifs Short Film Incubator for Southeast Asian Filmmakers

July 30, 2020, 9:04 pm

≫ Next: Singapore flings on your small screen

≪ Previous: Short Film Review: Happy Birthday, Great Grandma (2019)

Grow that script of yours! The Objectifs Short Film Incubator is a new initiative focused on developing short film scripts by Southeast Asian filmmakers, presented by Objectifs Centre for Photography and Film in partnership with boutique film agency Momo Film Co. In its inaugural edition, the incubator will provide five selected participants with mentorship, the opportunity to hear from international industry professionals and a valuable support network as they work on their scripts.

Leong Puiyee, Senior Manager at Objectifs, says: "The Objectifs Short Film Incubator was launched in response to a dearth of similar opportunities in Southeast Asia that are specifically focused on short film script development. Short films offer emerging filmmakers a dynamic format in which to experiment freely and find their style and voice.

Objectifs has been distributing Southeast Asian short films since as far back as 2006, has fostered community among regional filmmakers through initiatives such as Asian Film Focus, and has recently launched the Objectifs Film Library to increase access to Southeast Asian filmmakers' works outside of the festival circuit.

The Objectifs Short Film Incubator presented in partnership with Momo Film Co and various industry leaders marks an exciting new milestone in our long-term commitment to the importance of the short film medium and stories from Southeast Asia."

This year's mentors, who will work closely with the selected participants in one-on-one mentorship sessions and provide feedback on their short film script drafts are:

Davy Chou

A filmmaker and co-founder of Cambodian production company Anti-Archive. His first narrative feature, Diamond Island, premiered at the 2016 Cannes Film Festival Critics Week and won the SACD Prize.

Pimpaka Towira

A pioneer among female film directors in the Thai independent film scene since the early 1990s, and a film programmer with more than 15 years of experience. She has also served as a jury member on many panels including the International Film Festival Rotterdam and the International Short Film Festival Oberhausen.

Participants will also have the opportunity to hear from international industry professionals:

Filipino filmmaker Sherad Anthony Sanchez will speak on how to pitch projects.

Local filmmaker and founder of Singapore's first boutique digital film lab Mocha Chai Laboratories, Chai Yee Wei, will speak on post-production.

Greta Fornari, manager of the TorinoFilmLab and co-founder of sales company Lights On, will speak on distribution.

These guest lectures, together with an Objectifs Film Club session featuring mentors Chou and Towira discussing their works and respective film practice, will also be open to the public to attend, as part of Objectifs' efforts to promote film appreciation and literacy. (Registration will open at a later date.)

The entire Objectifs Short Film Incubator programme will be held online, in the English language, from 1 to 25 Sept 2020. It is open to filmmakers of Southeast Asian nationality who have made at least one short film that has screened in international festivals or programmes, but not made a feature length film before, and are not full-time students.

Applicants may apply individually or as a team of up to three collaborators. The programme is free of charge for selected participants to attend.

For full programme details and to apply, visit https://www.objectifs.com.sg/objectifs-short-film-incubator/.

Closing date is 8 August. Please apply here.

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Singapore flings on your small screen

August 6, 2020, 9:26 am

≫ Next: Short Film Review: Digital Funeral: Beta Version (2020)

≪ Previous: ShoutOUT! Objectifs Short Film Incubator for Southeast Asian Filmmakers

Still from documentary series 'Wild City'

One of the things we struggled with in reviewing films in the past was that we were writing a review of a film no one knew how to get their hands on. Something seismic just happened in Singapore last week. Starting 1 August 2020, through a combined gesture by three media companies, Clover Films, mm2 Entertainment and Mediacorp, more than 100 classic Singapore films and TV series shed their elusiveness and were made available for viewing on Netflix. We believe this will engage a good combination of film watchers, fan boys and girls of specific personalities and nostalgia geeks. And what a good chance for some of our reviews to be ‘repurposed’ too.

But it does not end there. Here is another bullet for the ‘stay-at-home’ cause. When you are done with these classics, a brave new world awaits you with a more recent, more accessible and more gilded set of Singapore or Singapore-made content online. As Singapore celebrates its independence day in August, there is no better way to get into the mood and embrace the contemporary Singapore identity by simply watching these films and series from the palm of your hand. Let us give you a guide!

Food Lore

<5-word summary of the show: Eat Cry Man Woman

Available on HBO GO and HBO

Watch this at: https://www.hbogoasia.sg/#series/sr388

Let’s start with the lowest common denominator – food! Food content caters to the most fatigued minds. This is the territory of clichés but no one ever gets tired of another morsel of food drama. Food Lore is the brainchild of filmmaker Eric Khoo who himself has been on a roll with gastronomically-themed dramas such as Ramen Teh and Wanton Mee. This is an eight-part series that will stir your hearts while the actors stir the sauce. Eight filmmakers including Erik Matti (the Philippines), Phan Dang Di (Vietnam), Billy Christian (Indonesia), Don Aravind (Singapore), Pen-Ek Ratanaruang (Thailand), Takumi Saitoh (Japan), Ho Yuhang (Malaysia), and Eric Khoo himself, introduce some truly exotic eats framed in all kinds of love from the motherly type to the sexy type. And the stories reflect a certain parallel between food and human beings – we start off with entrenched biases, but once we taste something we like, we want to eat up every part of it. Wink.

The film’s episodes have screened at various film festivals with A Plate of Moon & Maria’s Secret Recipe screenedat Seriencamp Film Festival 2019, Island of Dreams & He Serves Fish, She Eats Flowerscreened at the Tokyo International Film Festival 2019.

Wild City

<5-word summary of the show: Wild otters and others

Watch this at: https://www.channelnewsasia.com/news/video-on-demand/wild-city

There are otter videos aplenty online but the mother of all otter videos can be found in a Channel NewsAsia documentary series named Wild City. The series features these twitchy and adorable creatures in HD coupled with nature’s favourite guest voice - Sir David Attenborough. The novelty in this series is really being able to take stock of what’s left of wildlife in an increasing urbanised Singapore. After all, the government believes love can be made in small spaces, so wildlife has found ways to thrive. Otters aside, some of the more fascinating animal portraits in the documentary include the Raffles’ banded langur, one of the least-known primates on the planet, banded bullfrogs, dog-faced water snakes, maroon macaques and creepy crawlies of course. Do you know almost 30,000 species of animals call Singapore home? That’s enough drama to last more than a Covid year.

Wild City won the Silver World Medal at New York Festivals 2017 and Best Documentary at Asian TV Awards 2016.

Pop Aye

<5-word summary of the show: Taking home an elephant. Tough!

Watch this at:

https://www.amazon.com/Pop-Aye-Thaneth-Warakulnukroh/dp/B074TQFF5N

https://video.toggle.sg/en/video/movies/pop-aye/799337

Still on beasts, Pop Ayeis animal porn, road movie, art house sensibilities and some playful kitsch rolled into one. Helmed by an elephant, Pop Aye tells the story of Thana who is experiencing diminishing relevance in his profession as an architect, and even in his position as a husband at home with his wife secretly using a vibrator. So, he finds friendship in an elephant he notices on the streets in Bangkok, which he is convinced is Pop Aye, his childhood companion in the family farm. He buys over Pop Aye and they begin an endearing and affecting road trip back to his village. During the journey, the curveballs they face and the characters they meet, such a haggard hippie and an ageing transgender singer, are not quite fairy tale, but the moments of earnestness and genuine affections take us to Disneyland.

The film won the World Cinema Dramatic Special Jury Award for Screenwriting at 27^th Sundance Film Festival 2017 and also the VPRO Big Screen Award at 46^th International Film Festival Rotterdam 2017.

Lion Mums

<5-word summary of the show: These mums are so scary!

Watch this at:

S1: https://tv.toggle.sg/en/shows/li/lion-moms-tif/episodes?page=2

S2: https://video.toggle.sg/en/video/series/lion-mums-s2/ep2/523309

S3: https://video.toggle.sg/en/video/series/lion-mums-s3/ep1/788810

There is one scene in this drama series that has become fodder for a recent post-general election parody. Actress Lina Ng, playing Chae Lian, confronts her screen daughter about messing up in school and her daughter retorts. In the parody video, the daughter represents the voice of the oppressed (supposedly Singaporeans) and Chae Lian is the voice of the whiter-than-white authorities. Of course, expect more familiar struggles of adolescence, child-raising, paper-chasing and rat-racing in this series. Lion Mums is an interesting study of three very different mothers who share the same goals of wanting the best for their children, while committing different degrees of mothering overkill in their own unique ways. Min Yi is a COO and a single mother who is eager to climb up the corporate ladder but struggles to make enough time for her children. Chae Lian plays the familiar domineering ‘Tiger Mum’ who tries too hard. Durrani is a mum who seems to have all the stars in her life aligned from career to love to family, but in reality finds it challenging to be a juggler.

This series won a couple of awards including the Bronze Award Medal for Best Direction for New York Festivals 2018, Best Direction (Fiction) for Asian Academy Awards 2018 and was nominated Best Drama Series for Seoul International Drama Awards 2018.

Oddbods

<5-word summary of the show: Rainbow onesie furballs who grunt

Watch this at https://www.netflix.com/sg/title/81031037

Furry characters, each in a different primary colour make up Oddbods, an animation series about turning your own oddities into strength! Seven characters, Fuse, Pogo, Newt, Bubbles, Slick, Zee and Jeff, make up the Oddbods who, when lined up in a row, form a politically-correct rainbow (for six colours would have started a culture war). In the different episodes, these naughtier versions of Teletubbies face all kinds of situations, perils and even pranks played on them, and they always manage to find a way to flip these situations around for fun and humour. The series has a tagline: "Embrace Your Inner Odd, There's a Little Odd in Everyone!" And be warned, they speak fluently in grunts, moans, giggles and squeals.

The series was nominated for the Magnolia Award (Animation) at 24^th Shanghai TV Festival 2018, Best Animated Series at Kidscreen Awards 2018 and the Kids Animation category at the 2017 and 2018 International Emmy Awards.

Ilo Ilo

<5-word summary of the show: A maid-in-Singapore friendship

Watch this at:

https://video.toggle.sg/en/video/movies/ilo-ilo/794507

https://itunes.apple.com/us/movie/ilo-ilo/id899256213

This film needs little introduction. Terry, a domestic helper from the Philippines gets hired into a typical Singaporean family of HDB dwellers. She unwittingly forges a bond with the child Jia Ler and his mother is not having it. Then the economic crisis hits (what a familiar feeling) and Terry has to go. The film’s impeccable artistic achievement in every department leaves little to be commented on. And ICYMI, Yeo Yann Yann, who played the mother, actually delivered her real baby for the camera. You need to watch till the end of the film to see that. Talk about conviction!

Ilo Ilo was awarded the Caméra d’Or at 66^th Cannes Film Festival 2013 and later that year, it scored a major coup at the 50^th Taipei Golden Horse Awards by winning Best Film, Best New Director, Best Original Screenplay and Best Supporting Actress (Yeo Yann Yann).

A Land Imagined

<5-word summary of the show: Everybody sleepwalks

Watch this at: https://www.netflix.com/sg/title/81041391

A Land Imagined by Chris Yeo was the antidote to the socio-cultural hijacking of Singapore by Hollywood that was Crazy Rich Asians in the year 2018. It told the world poor, working-class people also existed in Singapore. Having said that, this film is not all a sob-fest but more an exercise of narrative hypnosis. Lok is a jaded police inspector, played by Peter Yu, who sets out to investigate the case of a missing foreign construction worker named Wang. And while he is at it, we see Wang’s story seemingly played out in an alternate universe, in which he frequents an internet café where he meets its mysterious female storekeeper. One of the film’s most insane moments is a cinematic conversion of the popular game Counter-Strike de_dust2.

This film together with Ilo Ilo are among the most awarded Singapore films in history. It won the Golden Leopard at 71^st Locarno Film Festival 2018, Best Film at 29^th Singapore International Film Festival 2018 and Best Original Screenplay and Best Original Score at 56^th Taipei Golden Horse Awards 2019.

A Yellow Bird

<5-word summary of the show: Yellow Ribbon gets knotty

Watch this at: https://www.netflix.com/sg/title/80115133

Director K Rajagopal said that the film’s title came from his mother who once told him that if you see a yellow bird, you will be very lucky. In considerable irony, the film is about one very unlucky ex-convict whose ‘yellow ribbon’ journey post-prison is saddled with obstacles and people ghosting on him. The film offers a peek into a realm whitewashed from the eyes of the average Singaporean – the underbelly. It’s a dog’s life in there but there are moments of poetry, unrecognisable terrain in Singapore and skinny dipping (yes!). Quite a surreal cinematic escape really!

A Yellow Bird was screened under the Official Selection at Semaine De La Critique 69^th Cannes Film Festival 2016.

Invisible Stories

<5-word summary of the show: Ghetto Tales we sometimes know

Watch this here: https://www.mewatch.sg/en/series/invisible-stories-s1/ep1/872163

We continue with underbelly tales in Invisible Stories. Rice media calls this ‘The Best Singapore TV Show you will never watch’. Well, we are urging you to do the opposite just to prove their article wrong (for a good cause of obviously). The brainchild of the director of TV series Code of Law, Ler Jiyuan, Invisible Stories is a six-part drama series which features socially-disadvantaged lives including a single mother, an autistic boy, a taxi driver moonlighting as a medium, a domestic helper, sex workers and an influencer…..wait a minute, Ler should have just named this ’12 Storeys Upgraded’.

The series features a diverse cast from the Southeast Asia region, including Taiwan’s Devin Pan (Floating Flowers In The Wind), Thailand’s Suchada Muller (Insects In The Backyard), Malaysia’s Gavin Yap (The Bridge), Bangladesh’s Sudip Biswas (Sutopar Thikana), Indonesia’s Sekar Sari (Siti) and Singapore’s Yeo Yann Yann and Wang Yu Qing.

Apprentice

<5-word summary of the show: Scariest job in the world

Watch this at: https://www.amazon.com/Apprentice-Firdaus-Rahman/dp/B07228KRL5

We highly recommend you watch this film with a box of popcorn. No other film in Singapore comes close to its ability to thrill and play with your mind. And when it gets too chilling, chew on some popcorn. About a new apprentice asked to learn the ropes (pardon the pun!) of executing death row prisoners, Apprentice tends to get under your skin a lot with its scrutiny of the execution process, framed in human drama. Based on the book ‘Once a Jolly Hangman’ by Alan Shadrake about Singapore’s longest serving chief executioner Darshan Singh, the film with its religiously accurate references, will paralyse you with fear.

This film has travelled to more than 60 film festivals worldwide include the 69th Cannes Film Festival 2016 under the Official Selection for Un Certain Regard section, the 21^st Busan International Film Festival 2016 and the 41^st Toronto International Film Festival 2016.

Folklore (PG13)

<5-word summary of the show: Scary Witch Asians

Watch this at: https://www.hbogoasia.sg/#series/sr331

In Folklore, filmmaker Eric Khoo rehashes an age-old formula – ghost stories anthology, but with a slight twist - every story must be based on an ethnic folk tale. Like Food Lore, this HBO anthology comes in easily consumable form familiar to the streaming platform fans – horror stories in six different flavours, each from a different country, and all Asian (which gives it extra spice). Some of the standout episodes include A Mother’s Love by Joko Anwar, in which a mother and son bump into a pack of creepy abandoned children and their creepier non-human mother; Mongdal about a mother struggling to keep up with a psychotic son who needs to kill a virgin to keep his sanity; and Toyol, a partly satirical film about a politician who seeks help from a beautiful shaman, who is later known to mother a demon child. IKR….mothers are the secret ingredient to good horror!

A couple of the episodes found an audience at several international film festivals including A Mother’s Love & Pob at the Toronto International Film Festival 2018, Tatami & Nobody at the 51^st Sitges – International Fantastic Film Festival of Catalonia 2018, and Toyol &Mongdal at Fantastic Fest 2018.

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Short Film Review: Digital Funeral: Beta Version (2020)

August 13, 2020, 6:04 am

≫ Next: Short Film Review: Stay Awake, Be Ready | Hãy Tỉnh Thức Và Sẵn Sàng (2019)

≪ Previous: Singapore flings on your small screen

In recent years, the Thai filmmaker Sorayos Prapapan has developed a certain interesting meta-textual lexicon in his short works. Starting from 2014’s Auntie Maam Has Never Had a Passport, when a masseuse and bit part actress finds her journey to her first ever film festival impeded by the then-unfolding political demonstration that eventually resulted in a coup d'état, and the establishment of a military junta that took over from deposed Prime Minister Yingluck Shinawatra; to 2017’s Death of the Sound Man, yet another sly political satire and a dig at how the public’s voice is silenced and ignored by the ruling elites through a wry allegory of what goes on behind the scene of making sounds for movies; and 2019’s Dossier of the Dossier, which revolved around an aspiring arthouse filmmaker and his producer’s trials and tribulation trying to raise funds for their feature film project—an allusion to the complicated geo- and interpersonal politics of a globalised independent arts practice, and how the art cannot be divorced from the context of its making—the act of filmmaking in Prapapan’s universe has become a layered act of mimesis that corresponds directly to the real world and its fault-lines, much like a sardonic mouthpiece speaking oblique riddles about the genuine state of contemporary society.

Digital Funeral: Beta Version follows in this exact train of thought, this time in a more contemplative, formalist vein. Bypassing the pretence of fiction entirely, Prapapan documents his room, his Facebook profile, himself, and a casual journey to the rooftop where he sets up a camera just to capture himself walking away. He quotes an excerpt from Bong Joon-ho’s iconic Golden Globes acceptance speech: “Once you overcome the 1-inch-tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films,” once in English and once in French, both through artificial speech, but with ironic subtitles for the latter. He ruminates about planning his own funeral, staging a retrospective of his own works, and muses that an exhibition of his practice would probably manifest as his bedroom—captured in lovingly detailed 360-degrees by a swivelling camera, and as expectedly messy as one would expect of an independent filmmaker hustling the hell out of the world. The boundaries and conventions of cinema may melt away, but the confessional, almost guilty core left behind is not quite the truth either—what measure is a documentary anyway, when stripped from the anchorage of a socio-political or scientific inquiry.

One senses a disturbance in the construction of a reality: a beta version presupposes an alpha build, a digital funeral is implicit of a physical one; neither of those negate the factuality of the latter, but they do present an alternate option of what could be. Sorayos Prapapan could die tomorrow (of a heart attack perhaps, maybe an errant car) and leave behind a catalogue, unfinished scripts, the latest version of the dossier for his debut feature film Arnold is a Model Student—not yet produced at the date of this review’s writing—and this film, and through all these we could piece together a facsimile of Prapapan the Filmmaker, and not be too far off the mark, but we still would not have captured any of the essential spirit of Prapapan the Existence, but that does not mean that we have not re-created a certain truth that is as pertinent as any other interpretation. Perhaps this is too much of a stretch in magical thinking for a 6-minute documentary, perhaps Prapapan was just really bored and had supportive programmer friends, or perhaps there is something left to be wondered about the traces we leave behind, and what others would think of them once there are nothing but traces left behind. Who knows, we can always have a digital funeral, ready for a live release.

- Alfonse Chiu

Digital Funeral: Beta Version is screening in competition at the Pardi di domani: Concorso internazionale of the Locarno Film Festival 2020. A viewing link is available here.

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Short Film Review: Stay Awake, Be Ready | Hãy Tỉnh Thức Và Sẵn Sàng (2019)

August 13, 2020, 8:24 am

≫ Next: A horror outsider who gets horror right: Interview with Emir Ezwan on 'ROH'

≪ Previous: Short Film Review: Digital Funeral: Beta Version (2020)

Phạm Thiên Ân’s Stay Awake, Be Ready is many things: a bold technical marvel composed of a single moving shot, a visceral glimpse at Vietnam’s nightlife, and a surprisingly affecting depiction of the chaotic nature of human life and the almost cosmic coincidences that happen everyday. The film, recently awarded the Illy prize for Best Short Film at Cannes Directors’ Fortnight 2019, features a striking sense of minimalism, depicting the single location of a busy street stall corner in Vietnam and the many distinct events occurring in them. By simply panning the camera the film moves from one narrative to another, that of a violent motorcycle accident to a child street performer and three friends grabbing drinks, all perfectly timed and choreographed. What sets Phạm Thiên Ân apart from other directors known for long takes, like Tsai Ming-Liang or Chantal Akerman, is that while their long takes are mainly used to create an isolating, almost monotonous effect through their minimalism, Ân instead uses them to capture the rapidly shifting kinetic energy of a single location.

The film starts by showing the street corner, yet dialogue is kept completely offscreen. While observing the woks of stall owners blaze up, the audience is treated to a rambling philosophical discussion about the wisdom of an elderly woman, friends waxing poetic about how “human faith swells up big real quick when they’re sick or on their last breath”. The idea of death looms for a second before the scene is interrupted by an offscreen motorcycle crash, only indicated from the sight of onlookers rushing to the left of the frame and exclamation of “Shit! Crash, guys!” Through the juxtaposition between the idea of death and actual danger, one of the central ideas of the film becomes abundantly clear: through the microcosm of the street corner, the absurd interconnected nature of human existence can be observed.

This holistic sense of unity is also explored through visual motifs within the physical space, particularly through the elemental connection of fire. When the film shifts focus and the camera zooms out, fire is always used to introduce a subject, moving from the fire in woks, the flaming torches the child performs with and the cigarette lit on a stovetop by a man. Many of the connections the film continuously makes are rather implicit, yet help add to a feeling of depth in its 14 minutes. One detail I particularly liked was a conversation about an elderly woman transitioning to the camera’s focus on a child, in a way that subtly captured the breadth of human experience.

By locking the frame in a single take, the audience’s view may seem limited, but Ân playfully uses this to his advantage. Almost every instance or implication of violence and conflict in the film is purposefully kept offscreen—first from the inciting motorcycle accident, then later on, friends exchanging images of the accident on their phones over hotpot. The audience is never shown these images and yet are left with the vivid description of how the motorcyclist’s “spilled his brains out on the road”. The implication of violence creates perhaps a more visceral understanding of it for the audience than anything else, while also highlighting how casually conflict is embedded in the flow of life.

However, this rigorous sense of restraint from Ân in withholding violent imagery and keeping the camera in a perpetual zoom out, as well as the previously established motif of fire, is completely dismantled in the final scene of the film. Offscreen, the character Bao chases after the child and cuts his foot. As he lumbers back the audience has the expectation of this restraint, yet he props his foot up on a table, leaving the wound in clear sight for everyone to see. The camera breaks its pattern and starts to zoom in, capturing every gnarly detail of the wound. Ironically it starts to rain, introducing an antithesis to fire, and the audience is forced to understand the nauseating outcome of such conflict. One last thing, however, that sticks out on the table in juxtaposition to Bao's bleeding leg is grilled chicken legs—one final visual prodding of the absurdity of life and all its coincidences.

Written by Matthew Chan

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