Filmmakers and filmgoers in Singapore have abided by the lockdown measures – collectively referred to as a “circuit breaker” – mandated by the practically minded government. Cinemas closed at first, then controlled screenings were allowed at 50% of seating capacity per hall per theatre. It was mandatory to keep masks on, meaning concessions were off limits. Revenues dwindled and the cinemas were forced to face the inevitable and provide VOD screenings.
Such measures are thought to inhibit the flow of films to their intended audiences. But did this hold true for Singapore films? From the outset, it looked like business as usual. The commercial side of Singapore cinema, which consists of the yearly output from Jack Neo and the other similarly minded filmmakers, continued to struggle to maintain attendance numbers.
Neo managed to release two features between late 2020 and early 2021, in the form of the multi-part Long Long Time Ago serial – The Diam Diam Era and The Diam Diam Era 2. This time he chronicled Singapore’s tightening political scene in the 1970s and 1980s in typical sitcom fashion. But the biggest splash was made by Ong Kuo Sin’s Number 1. The film’s Best Leading Actor and Best Costume and Makeup Design nomination at the 57th Golden Horse Awards attracted much media attention.
As for festival films, it’s fortunate that the Singapore International Film Festival takes place at the tail end of the year. A full slate of programmes was announced with the option to stream many of the titles. Of the five Singaporean films premiering at the festival last year, the most attention went to Tan Bee Thiam’s Tiong Bahru Social Club, which opened the festival. A whimsical social satire which was described as “Wes Anderson meets Black Mirror” in the programme notes, it was frothy with an edge at the start, but quickly lost steam when the unhappy protagonist took to wandering aimlessly around the heart of the eponymous housing estate looking for a purpose.
A sense of purpose could be found in the documentaries that premiered to sold out (even if it was at half-capacity) sessions. Both feature-length documentaries in the festival were made by first-time feature filmmakers. Tan Biyun’s Citizen Hustler took the classic approach of documenting a pair of hawkers scraping a living, exposing the life of underprivileged older people in Singapore. Buoyed by the boisterous personality of its subject, the documentary mostly succeeds bringing well-trodden subject matter to life.
At the other end of the spectrum, filmmakers Chew Chia Shao Min and Joant Ubeda took to the streets to capture the spirit of Singapore’s celebration of its 50th year of independence in 2015. Their freewheeling and inquisitive documentary Sementara, meaning “temporary” in the Malay language, was filled with religious ceremonies intercut with images of recreation. The filmmakers showed the spectacles of the National Day Parade along with scenes shot after the parades. The Malay word rawak comes to mind, which roughly means “random” in English. The filmmakers also dotted the scenes with short off-the-cuff interviews as in Chris Marker’s Le joli mai. The result was a touching expression of the country’s feelings.
The most substantial cinematic experience of 2020 (home viewing excluded), was Liao Jiekai’s hybrid dance film documentary, Faraway My Shadow Wandered. Shot in Japan, where Liao currently works, documentary elements and choreographed dance routines were intertwined to great effect. The film provided a suitable visual backdrop to 2020 when it ended with a tour de force dance sequence executed in a full-blown gale on a desolate beach out of which came the first stirrings of snow.
All the films mentioned were made before the tail-end of 2019 and did not suffer from pandemic restrictions. Will next year’s Udine article be filled with stories about movies made in safety-oriented conditions, and will they all be reflections about self-isolation? Many Singaporean short films have been already uploaded on YouTube and Vimeo. While most of them are run-of-the-mill, ruminating about the state of things and how to embrace a “new reality”, one short managed to use the same trajectory to explore a deeper meaning. Shot during the height of the circuit breaker, Mark Chua and Lam Li Shuen’s The Cup truly embodied the independent spirit of Singapore’s filmmaking.
This is all the more remarkable if one is to factor in the previous feature films the pair of intrepid filmmakers made. Cannonball and Revolution Launderette were made in Australia and Japan respectively. The films are literally handcrafted by the couple as they traverse through unknown parts of those countries, encountering dramatic situations on the fly, and constructing gloriously ramshackle narratives. It is through the perspective of this free-spirited lens that we can understand their brand of filmmaking, so the sudden restrictions could seem like a tightening of the creative noose. With The Cup, Chua and Lam went beyond merely circumventing limitations and embraced the manacles placed on them.
The impulse to create cinema can never be restrained!