The grimy image of a HDB flat lit by spartan flourescent light tubes opens up a landmark film in Singapore's film history - 12 Storeys. The soft billowing of army camouflage uniforms and neighbourhood shop underwears on poles under the afternoon sun sets the scene for what looks like 'revisiting' 12 Storeys. But not quite. On a more neutral and clinical note, 'Invisible Children' by Brian Gothong Tan takes us on slightly distanced and wryly humorous look at a few lives who share something in common - a compelling need to run away.
Brian's previous works have been distinguished by their use of iconoclastic visual imagery. And many references are made to national icons and symbols in a tongue-in-cheek manner. Having first established himself as a video artist, the 'installation' look is apparent. In a more subtle way, 'Invisible Children' presents a series of troubled lives in 'boxed-up', clean and slightly-stylised kind of setting. Except for the army bunk, there are plenty of white walls and sterilised settings. Singapore looks like a santitised, inhumane, almost surreal kind of place. Many characters wear white or plain off-white clothing. Either that, or uniforms - there were at least 4 ..... army boys, school students, policemen and an air stewardess. If this is all starting to sound like a visual statement, it probably is. Watching this in Berlin in front of a foreign audience, I began to worry if the Germans would view us as people from another planet.
I was actually watching it for the third time. The more I watch, the more the intellectual and conceptual marks of the film speak to me. Lim Poh Huat's character drew consistent laughter from the German audience. Perhaps it speaks to their disciplined nature. But I felt it made a huge and hilarious statement in the film, be it overseas audience or not. Then there was surrealistic disappearing scene which helped the kids escape for 2 stoogey policemen. However, the scene that takes the cake involves Yeo Yann Yann playing a Chinese teacher who speaks teached healthy 'Asian' values. Lol!
On the downside, the emotional aspects speak less and less. Perhaps, this is because not all the characters were defined adequately. A number of characters did seem like token symbols of a larger group of people. This included the stewardess and the lawyer. But the treatment of the 2 army characters and the mother-children trio gave the film more depth and irony. In fact, the film concluded an ambiguous shot of the mum's reaction to seeing something epiphanic, after grieving over the disappearance of her children. Karen Tan locked in a nuanced and affecting performance. The camera holds on her close up as her funereal expression morphs into one that hopeful, yet a 'make-believe' kind of hopeful. This I felt, was probably the emotional centre-gravity of the film (interesting that it is at the end).
Many of Brian's previous works are actually watchable from YouTube. Check out the following titles : Waking the Fluorescent Lion, Imelda Goes to Singapore, Sublime Monsters and Virtual Children, Across Asia.











He teahes at Canberra Secondary School and runs the A.I. Club. A.I. stands for Arts and Innovation and not Artifical Intelligence. However, it seems film and video making is hijacking what Arts and Innovation might refer to in Canberra. His students (and himself) have come a long way from knowing how to operate cameras. They have emerged champions in the School Video Awards for many years, virtually a huge cut above the rest. And they had an early start, and already enjoyed considerable success in the same time as when Royston Tan's short films and '15' were making huge waves.



Kenny Tan enjoyed some fame with Lorong 27, now apparently a local short film classic, often screened at some retrospectives. And he 's also gone on to make some rather sleek and polished looking shorts and music videos. So the immaculate look of this film is of no surprise. Graded with candy colours, this is a feel-good teeny-bopper piece that looks good in your home if you play it on the screen and sit beside a few Hello Kitty, Totoro and Pikachu soft toys. 17 year-old Midori (isn't that the name of a cartoon character?) tries to settle down in Singapore, a place new to her. A chatty Reiko rides her along and enters her life, making her assimilation into life here more bearable. They play, eat, take cutesy photos, paint and get emo together. A focal point of the relationship also involves an abandoned hangar where they err.... 'hang-out'.
Thanks to the reverse story-telling structure, their eventual separation is anticipated. While the whimsical images and floaty music add to the sadness of the separation, it was actually quite hard to find something poignant enough abot it. Perhaps the fact that Reiko eventually injured her leg back in Japan was meant to be a point of poignancy, but the severity of it was not established well. It made amuch of Midori's memories feel somewhat strenuous. Honestly, Midori was as bland as a paper cut-out, but Reiko gave life to much of the story with her more varied states of behaviour and existence. Her injury was a interesting pivot in the story though not fully explored. At the end of it all, if we go back to Kenny's intention of recreating a genre, it can best be descrived as exquisite! As exquisite as the wriggling feet shots - showcasing the cutesy knee-length socks that female Japanese students wear) - dotted throughout the film.

