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| From far left: Nicholas Chee (Sinema Media), Sanif Olek, Wee Li Lin, Don Aravind and Kenny Tan. |
Hui Jia (Going Home) by Kenny Tan
Inspired by: Hui Jia
by Lin Jin
“I love its
simplicity. The story is so simple, but the idea sort of…talks back to me and I
felt that it is something that is worth doing. And at the same time, I believe
it’s a story that I think Singaporeans can connect to, somehow, especially now
when we have this focus on our silver generation.”
- Kenny Tan, on adapting ‘Hui Jia’
The film “Going Home”, interpreted by filmmaker Kenny Tan,
paints its visuals with a soft daylight pastel palette and a sense of
restfulness (one may even suggest that Singaporean photographer Nguan’s trademark aesthetics have been
channeled in this instance). Set in the all too familiar old HDB backdrop, the
setting not only sets the mood to the piece, it also plays an important
narrative component as the site of buried conflict and tension, both with the
nature of its evolution and within one’s personal memories.
A story about an elderly man who goes back to his old
neighborhood to visit his old friend and whom confronts the realities of aging,
the film feels well placed within the classic mould of this familiar template
of ‘the independent Chinese Singaporean film’ since the late 90s. The titles,
the backdrop, the tinge of nostalgia and the prevalent narrative concerns - or
in some cases, rhetoric - of the passed and passing, within the context of our
Singaporean society and landscape, certainly jump out at you.
This baton seems to be passed on to the hands of Kenny Tan
this time, and he handles his work rather competently, making this film a worthy addition to the collection of similarly-themed Singaporean shorts over the years. There is an assuredness and
maturity in his direction, seen from his thoughtful compositions and the
sensitivities he displays in portraying the mundane. It is a very delicate,
carefully pieced film, and Kenny surely knows what he is going for every step
of the way. More often than not, the film is composed and naturalistic, and
both Lin Jin and Kenny Tan can take credit for provoking introspection in the
end with the discourse on aging, the multilingual dialogues and the recreated dramatic world that was
wrapped around them.
However, one can argue that the ‘simplicity’ that was inherent
in the original writing and pursued by the filmmaker seems to be perturbed by his film adaptation in certain moments, with deliberate filmic elements
employed. For most of the film, the still shots are patient, restful and
poignant, and are rich and telling on their own. It is hence a tad unfortunate
that Kenny is unable to resist the temptation of putting his own additional
touches in a bid to evoke more emotions than necessary. The music strains prevalent in the film come
across as a little too overplayed, arousing and distracting during important moments in the
film. The punctuation of two key tracking shots along the corridors, one in the
middle and the other at the end, not only draws attention to the drama intentionally
but also draws attention to the camera and the director’s viewpoint,
unfortunately. Their inclusion not only breaks the simmering spatial tension
established early in the film, but also brings about this turbulence to the dramatic
momentum that deliberately trains the audiences’ eyes to a certain sentiment
and impedes the space for realism and objectivity offered to the audience.
Un Vasalil (At Your Doorstep) by Don Aravind
Inspired by: Mukadukal
by Kamaladevi Aravindhan
“This story came about
where I feel like I could connect to it on a level where the main character was
a lady where I had lived and known throughout my life, which was my late
grandmother.”
- Don Aravind, on adapting ‘Mukadukal’.
If Kenny Tan’s “Going Home” is the ‘day’ film, Don Aravind’s
“At Your Doorstep” will be its ‘night’ accompaniment. The similarities in
subject matters and settings are uncanny, considering the filmmakers have the
freedom to choose from a whole range of local literary text. However, it is
also clear that both films do have their distinct directorial approaches and
sensibilities toward their respective stories.
The film, “At Your Doorstep”, is essentially a meditative
piece that explores an old lady’s state of mind and the conflicts she has with
her son and his family. Whereas Kenny Tan chooses to use music strategically in
his piece, Don Aravind opts to permeate his film with a disquieting and
unsettling silence throughout its whole duration. This decision not only
creates an intensity and focus that allows the space for reflection, it also
adds an extra tonal layer into the film and pulls the audience into the
grandmother’s world of isolation and desolation. There is just something
enchanting and absorbing about this sense of melancholia that accompanies the
silence of the night.
“No matter how much I
tell you, nothing seems to get into your damn head”. This line in the film,
directed to the grandmother by her daughter in law in the story, is
particularly memorable and telling of the whole construct of the film. Wesley
Leon Aroozoo, who wrote the screenplay, came up with a curious, engaging and
effectual way of storytelling by manipulating with filmic time in order to tie in
and expound on the subject matter of the protagonist’s mental condition. The
audiences are skillfully eased into the grandmother’s perspective and her
worldview, and this allows us to quickly empathize and invest in her plight and
helplessness.
This is clearly a personal film to Don Aravind, and this is
exemplified by the tender examination and focus on the protagonist. Light and
darkness envelops around the character to create emotional depth and the
cinematography frames her intimately through the close ups and insularly
through the spatial emptiness around her.
The soulful and pained eyes of actress S. Sithira Thevi also prick the
audience with sorrow as we witness her slow and inevitable demise.
However, in the same vein, the actress’s performance does
come across a little inconsistent too at times. Certain dramatic moments,
notably her last close up shot, seem a little too overwrought for my liking,
and the crucial close up shot of her beckoning to her beloved does feel flat
and unconvincing. The metaphor of the flower, especially with the emphasis from the close up shots,
feels a little too blatant and unnecessary as well. In the end, the ending just
feels like it has somewhat abandoned its subtleties and unwittingly veered into
the territory of melodrama, albeit temporarily. Despite these flaws, the
emotional strength and the inspired film structure do redeem the film and
culminates into an accomplished effort by filmmaker Don Aravind.
Tin Kosong (Empty Cans) by Sanif Olek
Inspired by: Tin
Kosong by Muhammad Salihin Sulaiman
“What can an audience
expect from my film? I think they can look forward to watch a mish mash of
retro fun and a dash of introspection to where we are, what we have become and
where we can go on from here.”
- Sanif Olek, on adapting ‘Tin Kosong’.
Completing the ‘trilogy’ of short films that touched on the
heartlands and the dialectics between the new and old, Sanif Olek’s Tin Kosong
follows the vein of Kenny Tan and Don Aravind’s works through his story’s
symbolism of the empty cans and his depiction of an old man discovering the
harsh realities of living in the city. By introducing the modern backdrops of the
Singaporean cityscape into the mix of the traditional HDB settings, the film
and book allude the emptiness and noise of the empty cans to the perceived
ruckus and soullessness of the city and its modern generation. As the old man
in the film exclaims, “My children are just like these empty cans. They are all
highly educated. But their hearts are like these (shaking the bag of empty
cans). Empty.”
Some of the more well thought out cinematography in the film
deserves a mention. The most memorable one consists of a wide lensed shot with
the backdrop of a slick looking modern building and the flanking of the
yellowish aging HDB structures. With the tiny isolated figure of the old man
planted in the midst of the frame and him going through his humble work, the misc
en scene and composition of the shot successfully communicated the
thematic concerns of the film.
The “mish mash of retro fun”, as mentioned by Sanif Olek,
clearly refers to the film’s obtuse musical number. It is an intended filmic
technique often employed by the “Golden Age” of Malaysian cinema in the 1950s
and 1960s, and is meant to serve as a break for the audience during serious and
dramatic moments, so as to release the tension from the film before it gets
increased again. The throwback and tribute to such cinematic traditions and
culture does add a good touch to Sanif Olek’s piece, and is also in line with
his introspection and examination of the past, present and future from a
cinematic standpoint. If there is any criticism, its that the meandering R Azmi
song and the musical sequence may have gone on a tad too long, losing its
freshness and novelty after a while.
The main flaws of the film, however, come from the treatment
of the narrative and the story itself, especially in its last act. From the
beginning when the old man is depicted as having a one sided phone conversation
with his wife, this reviewer was already hoping that the story would not
resolve in the way that it ended up to be. Unfortunately, this expected ‘twist’
at the end of the film only comes across as contrived, clichéd and overwrought
in the end. These sentiments also extends into a previous revelation in the
film, where the welling of emotions in a particular moment explodes into a
hit-in-your-face sensationalized sequence of Wong Kar Wai-eqsue
motion-photographs and overly dramatized music. Instead of stirring more
sympathy and empathy, such antics employed by Sanif Olek only served to
alienate this reviewer from caring for the plight of the protagonist.
That Loving Feeling by Wee Li Lin
Inspired by: Homecoming
by Gopal Baratham
“That Loving Feeling’ is really very different from ‘Homecoming’. Su
Ching, the co-writer, and I, we read the short story and basically what we did
was we mined moments and characterizations that we thought were interesting to
us, and that were cinematic. Things like the square dancing, Ena’s paranoia and
overt sweating and her falling in love with Gomez at first sight. Things like
that that really appealed to us and basically we created a brand new story.”
- Wee Li Lin, on adapting ‘ Homecoming’.
Probably the most stylistically distinct
film out of the four, Wee Li Lin’s ‘That Loving Feeling’ is a much-needed breath
of fresh air in this anthology, when compared to the three other similar and more
pessimistic stories. The film is a tentative but hopeful tale about Ena, a 19-year-old
young woman, who decides to take a step into independence by attending her
first ever party on New Years Eve 1964.
It is telling that the filmmaker
has decided to revamp the original writing and adapted a brand new story of her
own, because “That Loving Feeling” clearly has all the hallmarks of a Wee Li
Lin film. The Singaporean ‘romantic comedy’ specialist has once again given us
a confectionary tale of sweet love encounters, complete with her signature off
beat characterizations and her colorful elaborate art direction. Not to mention
her iconic imageries like her ‘things falling down from the sky in slow motion’
moments (from hong baos, rainbow dust, fake foamed snow to confetti, amongst
others), the soft illuminating backlight and yes, smooching couples. The film
may have been a welcomed departure from the HDB confined aesthetics and
heavyhearted narratives, but it is certainly tried and tested stuff from the filmmaker.
Simply put, it is never hard to recognize a Wee Li Lin film.
And practice does make perfect,
because Wee Li Lin has completed yet another accomplished visual piece to add
to her filmography. Helmed by a pair of mature hands, every moment in the film
feels right and on beat. The relationship between Ena and her mother, and the tension and peculiarities in between it all, never
feels out of tune, as a fine chord between absurdity, comedy and relatability
has been struck adeptly. The encounter
between Gomez and Ena, despite the intervention of some cringe-worthy lines (Howdy, anyone?), also moves along sweetly
and convincingly without much hints of contrivance. Crucially, the eccentric
side characters and extras in the film are also well directed, and this is
important in building the kooky retro world that helps supplement the tone and
central conflict of the story. Wee Li Lin is a meticulous filmmaker, whether towards
her aesthetics or towards her direction, and her attention to detail certainly
shows in this work.
The criticism of Wee Li Lin can
sometimes be directed to the repetition and lack of ‘gravitas’ in her works. Her films are usually feel-good, humorous
and seemingly formulated – often resembling the mindset of the heart fluttering wide-eyed girl residing in her. However, they are also admittedly always polished and well produced,
and it is always nice to have female-centric sentiments on our local screens
and such infectious films to bring a smile to people’s faces. Wee Li Lin’s
brand of female romanticism and sense of humor may not be of everybody’s taste,
but one certainly cannot deny that she can definitely handle her preferred
subject matters and do the things she knows pretty well.
Review by Thong Kay Wee
Review by Thong Kay Wee