watched forbidden city with yi ling, after which she decided never to go for another show with me again 'coz we always seem to be jinxed with disappointing shows when we go together. it wasn't as if forbidden city was bad - it's entertaining, the sets were pretty and the pacing was decent. it's just that the plot's clichéd, the characters are mostly one-dimensional, and everything looks like a westerner's dream of china: too opulent, too lush, too pretty.
the sad thing is, it could have been a lot better. one theme was trying its best to get out - the idea of words and their power. i love the royal record keepers, who in their anachronisms and flippancy show their awareness that they are only characters in a story. the self-reflexiveness is delicious - two record keepers who hold the power to record history are only characters in a musical about a historical event. george morrison too wield considerable power in his position as a journalist, but his reflexive comments are unconscious, and he is unaware of the fact that he too is inside a story. words develop in the musical from a means of recording information and bits of data to stories capable of capturing people's imaginations and disrupting an empire.
it's a pity that that was eclipsed by the themes of freedom truth and love in a china where everyone speaks flawless english and where even the chinese names are accented.
the set was, as mentioned, very pretty, and the music was fun (once you ignore the lyrics which was bloody awful). i also liked how tung chih's carnal debauchery was a twisted imitation of the emperor choosing his concubine, and how the song 'this is my only chance' means three different things throughout ci xi's life: a chance at love, a chance at power, and finally, a chance to be understood. and did i mention how the record keepers were so cute together? i loved their self-awareness: the bit when one record keeper told the other to write kuang hsu's name down in the books and the other went "g-u-a-n-g" before the first one snapped "in chinese!" and another time when they knowingly aged twenty years in an eyeblink in front of the audience because they declared in their narration that "many years have passed". and the bit when their happy sheltered world came crashing down and they are forced to record down the number of dead bodies during the hundred-day-war was possibly the only point that is truly tragic in the entire musical.
but the best line in the show? it's when george morrison was singing "black or white; heaven or hell - what story do i tell?" without realising that this highlighted exactly how one-dimensional everything in forbidden city was - that the story could only be either black or white, heaven or hell.
(i wondered if that could possibly have been deliberate, but it would have meant that the entire musical was deliberately clichéd and one-dimensional in order to make a comment about the bias inherent in all stories. which is...
... nah.)
singapore dreaming was not bad. it was a straightforward movie, no hidden layers of meaning and all that, but it was a show that had heart. although i thought it was a little too ambitious about the issues it tried to cover: sibling rivalry, the oppression and discrimination of women, discrimination of pregnant women in the workplace, materialism, studying in overseas universities, maid abuse, husbands trapped in dead-end jobs, death of dreams, infidelity. and it's telling how there's not one single strong or likeable male character in the entire show - pa is chauvinistic and materialistic, seng is weak, greedy, and a jerk, c.k. is a loser, mei's boss is nasty to secretaries, and pa's friend is an accomplice to his infidelity. even the kid mei and c.k. meet in the lift lobby is guilty of not packing his bag properly and getting only 95 marks for his test. probably the only blameless male in the show is the little kid irene takes a picture of on the bus.
(incidentally, i think people who just go "the movie was written like that because it's just meant to be a personal story, and that anyone else who think it could have been better written could make their own film" are just intellectually lazy. films are meant to be analysed, even if the conclusion is that the movie's not exactly very deep or very technically challenging. and the title "singapore dreaming" with its implication of national critique must count for something. (woo yen yen was saying how they were looking at different titles and settled on this 'coz of the 'ing' and the sense of continuation it gives. now that's what i meant by 'linguistic sensitivity'.)
still, local cinema can't survive on arthouse alone, and it's a damn sight better than jack neo's social critiques.
(becoming royston is coming out soon. hello again, arthouse cinema.)
the point is, they are only foils or plot devices to the main character that is norman. adrian pang provides the key to appreciating the whole thing: "[Norman] has a very colourful, complicated personality, with a personal history that is full of heartache and sadness, yet he has created a little world for himself where he keeps himself safe and happy. He's a survivor in the true sense of the word, but once that little world shatters, everything comes crashing down."
so the 'friend' that he's constantly bringing up is actually himself ('never despairing'), trapped in colwyn bay until he gets 'an offer of work' as an understudy before being picked up by sir. madge's twenty years with sir is contrasted with norman's sixteen, and sir's neglect of him shows when he tells madge that "you're the only one who loves me", capped off by his last words "to those who do the work of the theatre, yet have but small share in its glory: carpenters, electricians, scene-shifters, property men..." but no dressers. in fact, all three women in sir's life serve to remind norman of his place, shutting him off from the man he worships and loves, and his jealousy and possessiveness is evident through his subtle digs at her ladyship ('or was that before your time?') and madge ('he didn't mention stage-managers neither!') as well as his undisguised hostility towards irene.
'coz in case you haven't realised it, the dresser is a gay play.
actually, it's a lot more complicated than that, although the constant mention of mr davenport scot (who's arrested for buggery) does point towards a homosexual reading of the relationship. but norman (i suspect) hides the truth from even himself, and love is overlaid by loyalty, devotion, friendship and a ferocious maternal instinct. sixteen years is a long time, but norman's content to remain beside his sir in the smug knowledge that he is needed ('don't leave me norman').
it's really sweet when you think about it - sixteen years. of being with sir for more than two hundred performances of lear, of preparing his clothes, his food, his make-up, of being with him when he's depressed and sharing in his joy when he's happy, of having his habits down pat and settling into a comfortable routine, day in, day out. some marriages don't even last as long.
plus there is the glamour, the excitement of working with a brilliant and talented man, someone whom you could really admire and love with all your heart.
*cough*
set design was wonderful, printed muslin that's remarkably realistic as stone walls while being thin enough for the characters behind to be seen when the stage lights shine on them for a through-the-walls vignette. and movable doors and walls that change a dressing-room to stage wings backstage.
(look, i'm sorry if i can't see the rest of what the dresser was supposed to portray: the end of an era, the threat of evil forces, actors and their struggle to survive, etc. it's just that the love story's so much stronger and more emotionally engaging, is all.)
4.30 reminds me of last life in the universe and 3 iron - the tentative reaching across, the silence, the foiled suicide attempts. plus the broody korean guy kinda looks like kenji in last life in the universe.
loved the expression on his face while the kid was peeing in his bath, comic bathos after his failed suicide attempt and self-mutilation; the homage to eric khoo's 12 storeys with the kid reciting quan yifeng's lines perfectly on cue; the bit when he 'borrowed' two oranges from the earth god's altar to make juice for the korean.
the bit when he taped up the clock hands at 4.30 after the korean left was good too, although the end when he painted the windows black reminded me of the end of mee pok man. other assorted bits and pieces: the similarity between the korean's stash of sleeping tablets and the kid's stash of cough syrup, the chinese textbook that the kid was using as a scrapbook and his identification with quan yifeng's role as a china bride (or is it just a comment on alienation?), the contents of the scrapbook itself. i thought the overly one-dimensional character of the teachers was a bit nasty, though.
dang, missed love story. *sigh*
why Mad Hatter? - for everyone who asked 'why mad hatter? why mercurypoisoning?', this is for you. (although, my goodness, i sound so young.)
and finally, something i should've put up a long time ago - a babe in toyland. a little word of warning - it's a sex blog. but (and this is a big but) it's also intelligent, funny, and heartbreaking in its brilliant articulacy. you have posts like this, or this, or (one of my personal favourites) this. if i was female i would die to be someone like her - intelligent, passionate, funny. the insanely good sex is also a plus, of course. ^^
watched be with me 'coz a friend very kindly lent me the dvd. i suppose that's the tragedy of film - it still goes to hell no matter how many times you watch it, but this time you can follow them down every step of the way.
sam's still a bitch, no doubt about it.
aren't there any lesbian movies around? i'm waiting for a teen fluff romance, something light and sweet as a souffle, with a happy ending. something that doesn't undermine the story from the beginning with a title like 'so in love'. why is it that almost all the shows that talk about same-sex love are about men, and why do so many of them end in tragedy and dysfunction and death? (i suspect it's the fault of the male psyche - like it or not, some gays are men same as everyone else.)
watched edward scissorhands during aileen's party. it's still as scary the second time round.
and oh, i've finally got gunbound. ^^
So it is for me for whom kindness has always been a surprise.
1
why not merely the despaired of
occasion of
wordshed
is it not better abort than be barren
the hours after you are gone are so leaden
they will always start dragging too soon
the grapples clawing blindly the bed of want
bringing up the bones the old loves
sockets filled once with eyes like yours
all always is it better too soon than never
the black want splashing their faces
saying again nine days never floated the loved
nor nine months
nor nine lives
2
saying again
if you do not teach me I shall not learn
saying again there is a last
even of last times
last times of begging
last times of loving
of knowing not knowing pretending
a last even of last times of saying
if you do not love me I shall not be loved
if I do not love you I shall not love
the churn of stale words in the heart again
love love love thud of the old plunger
pestling the unalterable
whey of words
terrified again
of not loving
of loving and not you
of being loved and not by you
of knowing not knowing pretending
pretending
I and all the others that will love you
if they love you
3
unless they love you
and finally, "The Heat Death of the Universe", a short story by pamela zoline:
http://www.scifi.com/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/zoline/
enjoy.
school's over! so before i start mugging, here are some really outdated movie reviews... (three movies in a month, which goes to show that either i plan my time really really well around my assignments and projects, or, more likely, that i'm just plain dumb.
there's no reason why ennis and jack should be passionately in love rather than just be close friends, no tipping point reached in terms of an emotional connection - the first time you see their 'love' for each other is when ennis is stone drunk, crawls into the tent with jack and they copulate ferociously, which effectively shows how the relationship is going to go for the rest of the movie. they don't go camping because they like to fish or hunt - they go because no one will see them having sex in such an out-of-the-way place. other hints that reveal their obsession with the physical aspect of homosexuality - ennis apparently loves anal sex with alma (which she hates) and jack picks up male prostitutes in mexico when he isn't screwing ennis.
okay, maybe there's something else besides the sex, but it doesn't make things much better - ennis and jack don't so much love each other for who they are as what they make the other party feel; their camping trips and in fact their entire relationship are an attempt to recapture that magical space on brokeback mountain, that time in which they are not bound by society's rules and could live as carefree individuals away from mundane things like families or money woes. (read the short story, which shows this a lot better, and incidentally does the love story a lot better too. heck, it's just better, period.)
and this is what gets me the most - that their wives are the ones who suffer for their utter pigheadedness and stupidity, that it isn't just their own fool lives that they're screwing up but their families' as well. in fact, why the hell are they behaving like such typical men? if one of them was a woman the audience will see them instantly as the irresponsible adulterers that they are, but just because they're both men, it turns out to be this courageous love story of two men against a repressive and intolerant society. and what's even more ironic is that two men mean twice the irresponsibility, twice the stupidity, and twice the heartbreak.
stupid men.
*sigh*
(go check out the trailer and then call me a liar.)
anyway, transamerica is not just about gender, it's about boundaries in general (what do you expect from a road trip across america?). the film explores the distinctions of race and religion, the exoticisation of the different - transgender people are real people, not just "two-spirit" demi-gods, and amerindians can have western-sounding names and wear cowboy hats "to keep off the sun". i suppose that if there's an overall message in transamerica it'll be the call to suspend judgement, to ignore the fact that toby is a hustler and is going to california to shoot porn, to not think poorly of bree just because she hides her transgender status in order to gain acceptance in society. but the wonderful thing about the film is that it's not preachy or pretentious, but rather wraps its un-intrusive message in lots of wry humour and real human emotions. (such as how the relationship between calvin and bree develops - they're really sweet as a couple! ^^)
i'm just waiting until this comes out in amazon - definitely worth waiting 21 years to watch this... *haha*
look, here's one man who run rings around the police, who are well-meaning if ineffectual, and aims to restore democracy by killing the authoritarian heads of state who are totally evil with no redeeming features whatsoever (they killed children and tons of people to gain power! and they initiated horrific human experimentation! evil!). it's so simplistic it's laughable, the idea that lots of people massing in front of parliament house watching it blow up is a great show of democracy and that life will get better now that the über-villains are killed in an amazing display of fight choreography. v talks a lot but it's all just words, and whatever real points he makes about politics are undermined by his flawed agenda. not to mention the heavy-handed direction - the parallels between dietrich's arrest and that of evey's mum (every gesture exactly the same!) and the scene with evey being reborn from v's rite of conversion (lightning! thunder! let's throw in a scene of v in the fire in case the audience still doesn't get it!) which is funny if you're in a good mood and downright insulting if you're not.
that being said, hugo weaving is fantastic in emoting past his mask, punctuating callousness and invulnerability with unexpected flashes of tenderness, and the lesbian subplot is fairly sweet if a bit stock. (it reminded me a lot of the film the handmaid's tale, which does political authoritarianism a lot better with obviously less money.) the thing is, i've never read the graphic novel, so i can't tell if it's the directors' fault or the novel itself...
anybody has a book that i can borrow?
knowledge and power. knowledge is important 'coz knowledge leads to power - you can't have power over what you don't know. and it's not just information or written data - it's knowledge in your bones, knowledge that's so intimate it's almost second nature.
and that's what makes the exercise of talent such a joy to watch. it's the feeling that they know exactly what they're doing, that they're not just doing things that they have learnt by rote, that they're actually having fun.
... dammit, i'm going to learn how to play by ear even if it kills me.
basically, it seems to argue that women's identities are defined by men - mari gets a makeover by a guy, and then a new identity as a call-girl; miyuki's alter ego is 'melon-chan - queen of the quickie'; the two naos assume different identities for their clients. and it even seems as though the two naos are interchangeable: the one who was originally pining for his runaway boyfriend dumps him and becomes a call-girl, while the call-girl hooks up with the former's boyfriend (who is a fugitive for selling company secrets and claims to have sold his identity) and, apparently, finds peace.
why sex? when asked by a guy why she became a call-girl even though she has a perfectly good day-job as a secretary, nao said that 'it makes her feel more real'. and this is interesting 'coz she's deaf in one ear and has to wear a hearing aid, which means that she effectively hears the world through the device... (sometimes you can hear this high-pitched whining in the background, presumably from the hearing aid.) sex seems to be the only way of making contact between people - nao runs to this older man for sex and comfort every time life gets too much for her. but miyuki also warns her massage parlour junior, "don't go all the way (in sex). when you go all the way, you lose all your dreams." and there's this sweet, if a trifle ludicrous, scene of mari teaching a client how to send an mms for his daughter's birthday, and his return sms later to thank her.
women seem to be defined by sex, but nao argues that men too are judged, not by their work (as one guy pompously said), but by the quality of their sex. in a weird reversal of roles, she told the same guy that he need only pay if he fails to pleasure her (i think). but the men in the film are generally portrayed as weak and/or pervy creatures who run away with company money or trade secrets. and the women in the film are empowered, not through their sexual liberation, but by finally seeing men for what they really are and breaking the emotional chains that bind them.
(incidentally, the characters in "night lovers", the nao story, are in the midst of america's war with iraq, and the news keep floating up from the tv and radio. in fact, the end of the film shows the official declaration of the end of the iraq war. i suspect that just as nao hears the world through her hearing aid, japan knows of the iraq war only through the media - hence, is the iraq war real? are the information being broadcast a true reflection of reality? and it is this disconnect with reality that underlies the entire film, setting off the fragility (impossibility?) of human relationships.)
there are films that shows sex as art, there are films that shows sex as passion, but tokyo noir seems to show sex as... well, sex. sex as the only way for people to connect with each other - sometimes it works, most of the time it doesn't. and it's strange how you can see so many scenes of people humping each other and yet remain oddly unmoved.
*sigh* i'm waiting for a film that shows sex in all its glory, that shows sex as power dynamics, but also sex as passion, sex as romance. i want a film that reads like a jeanette winterson novel, that is intelligent, funny and erotic as hell (why does it sound as though i'm looking for a boyfriend?) i want a film i can fall in love with, dammit.
(just found out that 蓝宇 is still showing... but in yangtze! don't think i'll get to watch it - exams are coming up, but the main thing's the venue... cinema full of dirty old men... *hur hur hur... sorry sorry*)
and another thing, i managed to get 男人四十 and 重庆森林 from library@esplanade! *happy*
(it turns out that i'm completely unable to forgive as well as forget. vindictive little bugger.)
one thing to note before you read my stuff - it's text, and if there's one thing i can do it's write. this means that everything i write is supposed to be there: there're no freudian slips, no accidental use of words, no unexpected passages. everything is meant to be there. and this in turn means that it's a made artifact, wholly unnatural in its construction. which is not to say that i write this in cold blood, but then i edit. i take out words, put others in, change the tone and flow of the post, because i'm exhibitionistic and considerate and so it won't do to slap any old thing onto the page.
so now i've got you into a properly meta-textual mood, just so that you can pay more attention to what i write. then again, people may never want to read my stuff after they find out how i did it. (as if anyone actually bothers to read it anyway.)
( badly-written semi-depressive post on all my usual topics. )
writing depressive entries takes too much emotional effort, too much time and will usually spoil my mood for the entire day. so why do i do it? for one thing, it clears out most of the emotional junk so that i can write happy entries on cute guys and movies. but the main reason is, i'm dumb like that.
[Edit: reading through everything makes me feel as though i'm in jc again. but this time, i'm going to be smarter - late-night conversations or no, treasure the good times and move on. no point brooding over their loss. practical advice, but strangely enough, it hurts. a lot. maybe i'm finally growing up.]
bugger.
anyway, believe it or not, my sis finished her fic a short while before mine, and it turned out that the two are set in almost exactly the same time period. she's far better at it, though, so the fic's here.
um... yes. mine's here. comments are, as always, greatly welcome. ^^
