Week 1 – Introduction
I watched this week’s content a few weeks into the semester, and by that time had already read over all the documentation on learning@Griffith about this course, and gotten myself familiar with much of what the lecture’s introduction and overview covered. So the lecture fine for me, with no real positives or negatives to point out.
I think like most students, I was taken aback by just how far the Asia Pacific region spans. The realisation of this also let it sink in just how remarkable it is to have the BAPFF held right in my home city. I was surprised at the inclusion of middle-eastern countries like Iran and Syria into Asia Pacific, as I’d always just imagined it to include us, China all the islands in between, yet I hadn’t even considered Japan or Korea to be a part.
I somewhat enjoyed The Woman In The Septic Tank, though my heart sank a little when the singing began. It was a great choice for the introductory film, because it gave us a meta look into the local film industry of the Philippines. Who doesn’t like a good movie about movies? Unfortunately for it’s star, the movie being made within The Woman In The Septic Tank isn’t a particularly lovely story, and by the end I really couldn’t help but actually feel bad for her, something I rarely feel for characters in Hollywood movies. I do mean by the end though, because while it’s a relatively short movie at around 70 minutes, I felt it was dragging in some scenes. It wasn’t really until the end that things picked up.
This was coved and somewhat explained by Matthew Flanagan’s article,16:9 in English: Towards an Aesthetic of Slow in Contemporary Cinema. Matthew believes that rather than just appearing slow to my western eye used to fast, spontaneous cutting, the Asia Pacific film style purposely incorporates an ‘aesthetic of slow’, used to add to, or distract from, the cause-and-effect nature of a story.
Week 2 – Indigenous Australia
I am thankful to have grown up in a country with such a remarkable education system, as I consider myself sort-of knowledgable about Australia’s indigenous history. It was interesting to see a story that didn’t involve cartoon rainbow snakes and corroborees.
Samson and Delilah is a grim story, perhaps even a little strange in its abandonment of traditional structure and storytelling methods. Assuming this was intentional, it feels like the film is saying “this is our culture now, this is how we do things”, a somewhat snarky rebuttal to Kevin Rudd’s Sorry speech from around the same time. A reminder of the tragedies and unfairness placed upon this entire culture.
Though it seemed like an intentionally existential piece, I still thought that the story could’ve used more. There was considerable tragedy being played upon for emotion, which left little room for much else. It felt like getting kicked over while trying to get up. I also thought that the music, or lack thereof, impacted its ability to evoke emotions from its audience. Without the music the film seemed dreary and dull, and with the barebones dialogue, less might not really have been more.
It was a rather slow film and I felt like, when it was finished, I was only half way through it. I wanted there to be something bigger for the two main characters – something specific that they were looking to do. I can understand why the filmmakers decided to keep the dialogue in the film to a minimum, but I also felt that decision kept the audience from knowing what it was, exactly, that Samson and Delilah wanted to achieve when they drove away and left the remote village.
Week 3 – Japan
The screening for that week, Still Walking, is an intense and empathetic study of a family dealing with loss. The eldest son died young, leaving the father with nobody to continue the medical clinic he worked at all his life as the younger son Ryota did not into the same profession and cannot live up to his fathers’ expectations. Since the death 15 years prior, the family commemorates every year with a family dinner, inviting the man he died saving.
The characters have suppressed their emotions for years, unlike American family-gathering movies (basically Thanksgiving and Christmas movies, where everyone just whines about shit). It is clear to see that the father considers Ryota to be “the wrong son”, and though he still loves him like a son, it’s clear the father wishes he’d died instead of his brother. The mother of course still loves him dearly, and has grown tired of her husband, and thinks about leaving him.
The ending was the main point of movie, which gave me a great sense of relief. Once both his parents died, Ryota was finally free from his father’s disapproval and able to move on with his own beautiful family. It was an uncommon and yet beautifully perceptive look into how families interact that watching it felt as natural as putting one foot in front of the next. Like all good films, it brought up existential questions regarding loss, love and life. It makes you question what you’ve got, and why you obsess over things lost. Of course grief is an excellent reason to obsess over something you’ve lost, but at what expense?
Week 4 – Chinese Language
This week in Asia-Pacific film we learned about Chinese cinema. Like many countries in Eastern Asia, the massive Chinese film industry been built off centuries of heritage and tradition, and honour and respect is paramount. Symbolism plays a large role in Chinese tradition – this is reflected in many Chinese films, including the week’s screening of Zhang Yimou’s Raise the Red Lantern.
I enjoyed the film, as it opened my eyes to post-Mao, pre-communism China. In many films that depict this era, the customs, and the language used etc. distance a modern audience from the story, characters and the film in general. However, in Raise the Red Lantern, this cinematic norm was the subject of upheaval. Although I personally am unfamiliar with concubines, sex slaves, or owning a lavish mansion, I could still relate as the characters were engaging, the story was raw and had high stakes (which is shown at the end when the third mistress is killed). The cinematography distanced itself from the story slightly at times, and made heavy use of the typical symbolism of red for love, and also the Chinese symbolism of red lanterns for death. The film was shot using a three-strip technicolour process which enables vast, deep reds – which was virtually unachievable using Digital at the time, though I suspect digital sensor technology has caught up in the 20-something years since
This week was my allocated reading for the online class, and I was assigned to The Use and Abuse of Chinese Cinema. Originally, I found no concrete point to this article and gave it a scathing review in class, but on further reflection, I think I was expecting it to be more than it ever tried to live up to, and I was wrongfully underwhelmed. The main point that I drew from the article was arguing that there are so many films coming out of China, that the few that actually make it out to our screens tend to be skewed toward grand, lavish, unrealistic representations of China, tailored for our desensitised western lens. I feel that this point isn’t specific to China, and can be argued for any countries cinema and directed at any audience. There is simply too much content being produced for everyone to be able to watch it all, and of course the most exotic, colourful and marketable films will be at the top of the list for festivals.
Week 6 – Indonesia and the Philippines
I found week 6s module on Indonesia and the Philippines interesting and informative, as I’ve been hearing increasing news about Robert Duterte, the President of the Phillipenes, and have also regularly seen and heard about Indonesia mainly through glimpses at the tourist hotspots, and of course the Bali Nine coverage. Learning about these countries’ unique national cinemas was intriguing as it’s given me some background to the current events I know about, which is probably about as ‘hands on’ as film theory/history is going to get.
The weekly screening, Serbis, follows the Pineda family in Angeles, Philippenes through a torturous day wrought with constrained marriage, undesirable pregnancy, possible incest and irritating skin conditions. Interestingly, the “star” of the film is a huge, rundown film theater that also serves as a living space. At one time a reputable cinema, the theater now runs secret back-to-back porn screenings and serves as a hotspot for fringe characters, crooks and other shady folk.
Mendoza,has called himself as a neorealist since he made his first low-budget feature film in 2005. Serbis is his first 35mm film, yet it keeps the grittiness of its cruder predecessors, as the always moving camera constantly follows the erratic activity. The family live and work with fervor. The theater’s staff take part in jealous fights and chase a criminal around the cinema until he’s cornered, then dangled efrom the gallery. The movie is abruptly interrupted by not just wild sex, but also wild animals. Amidst an amateur rape scene rape featuring hilariously unprofessional actors wearing crude Halloween-esque outfits, a goat meanders out before the screen.
Serbis casually casts the audience into the background, quickly jumping from one flippant act to the next, revealing the poverty and wretchedness of those involved.Yet, I was somewhat bored by the characters, despite them being the framework to the whole story. Given Mendoza’s brillante reputation (I had to), I was somewhat underwhelmed. Respect is due, however, for the film to accomodate such elaborate and wacky characters without just coming off as crazy.
Week 7 – Malaysia/Thailand
Prior to this week’s lecture, I couldn’t honestly say I knew anything about Malaysia except that I once had a Malaysian friend, and since MH370 that Kuala Lumpur is the capital city.I was honestly even unaware that it bordered Thailand, though I did have some pre-existing knowledge of Thailand. Mainly their food (or perhaps the westernised versions we get at Thai restaurants here), Muay Thai, and of course Thai massages.
I was intrigued by the reading I Make Films For Myself: Interview with Apitchapong Weerasethakul. I found the interview really interesting, especially since I’d watched Tropical Malady prior to reading it. The interview took us inside the making of his films, and Apitchapong discussed openly his troubles securing funding for his films – something we at film school can all relate to. Regardless of hardship, he comes across as a wise and determined filmmaker with great talent, and I have great respect for that.
Tropical Malady was a really enjoyable film. I was surprised to learn of it’s paltry reception upon release, with the Cannes audience leaving midway, or staying to the end and booing. It might come across as a depiction of a journey into insanity, but both halves of the film tell the same story of romantic pursuit and desire.
Weerasethakul’s work is intriguing in a number of ways. Most of all, it is his aptitude to evoke and manipulate mood. The film’s thin plot along with its segmented structure allows mood to move to the forefront. Furthermore, the contrasting moods produced by the two stories are fully emphasised by Weerasethakul’s unusual film style; for example, the thirty second period of silent black that separates the two halves, which effectively cleanses the palate of any remnants of feelings left over from the first story.
Making any concrete claim regarding Tropical Malady is difficult. The moods evoked by the characters are universal, and draw upon primal instincts that live uniquely within us all; whether you are straight, gay, man, woman or mythical tiger, interaction between living beings is something central to us all. This is where Weerasethakul’s treatment of universal themes with an original stylistic approach makes his films so absorbing. Undoubtedly, a film as definitive as Tropical Malady deserves a deeper analysis than can be given here, and indeed a director who can articulate mood so well into a filmic realisation is worthy of more praise.
Week 8 – India
I’ve never tried reasoning why, but I hate musicals. It’s odd, because I’ve always loved music (although vastly different genres to a musical), long before I liked film. Its not purely the combination of the two that gives me shudders, as I enjoy music videos, and even directed a music documentary earlier this year. No matter what era, genre, or location of tongue in relation to cheek, they just strike a bad chord with me (pun intended).
When it comes to India and it’s huge, rather musically oriented film industry, i’m just the same. I can appreciate a good story well told, and I know that India has a lot of good stories. It’s the ‘well told’ that, to me, falters in the presence of song and dance. Gavin Burke eloquently transcribed my feelings in his entertainment.ie article “Opinion Time: Why I hate musicals. With a passion”.
The musical is a contradiction. It wants you to enjoy the songs but for it to work, dramatically speaking, it asks you at the same time to ignore the song’s existence. It has to. You can’t pretend to get locked into a story as it reaches its climax if they’re just going to highlight it’s all nonsense at a crucial moment by bloody singing. So this ignore/acknowledge battle goes on throughout, pulling you in both directions at once – Gavin Burke.
Coming from a western culture, I’ve always viewed India as an exotic land of jungles, temples, spiritualism and ritual, with vast riches (and as i’ve progressively learnt as I got older, slums too). When I think of Indian music, my mind goes to the classic Persian-descent instruments like Sitars and tablas, bamboo flutes etc. that have been common in India since the twelfth century.
When I watch scenes like Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham’s King’s College London scene, any sense of realism I might have once felt instantly disappears the moment an entire college’s students line up and leap into perfectly choreographed song and dance. Am I watching a truly emotionally grounded love story, or a music video, or even a dance performance? Not to mention the most appalling attempt at playing a guitar I’ve ever witnessed, in which the male love interest picks up an electric guitar (that bears a striking resemblance to the $69 kids toy sold at Kmart) from next to it’s amplifier, yet the guitar’s jack is clearly visible, and unplugged. And that’s not even mentioning the fact that he holds the guitar, and we can hear it being played, yet he isn’t playing it. Again, any sense of realism goes right out the window, and my disbelief is quickly unsuspended.
Of course, I know i’m completely averting Parallel Cinema, and it’s a gross generalisation to say “I don’t like Indian films because of the bloody singing and dancing”, but if that many examples of a nation’s cinematic identity cause me to cringe and laugh out loud, it doesn’t inspire much confidence to delve deeper in and find… better?
That’s not to say I haven’t tried, though the language barrier is an issue. I found it rather hard to take the “Most hard hitting scene from Black Friday” seriously when the translated subtitles read out “Facebook case you are with contract, you know hanging around his neck that I do the magic, Facebook, and one love chat cutlery at home, I do not know as snow”.
You might see it as closed-minded, insensitive, or arrogant, but at this point in my life, I don’t think Indian cinema is for me. As with anything though, I’d love to gain a greater understanding and appreciation into the future.
Week 10 – Bunohan (Malaysia)
For Week 10’s entry, I will focus on the screening of Bunohan held at Griffith Film School for the Malaysia Showcase on Wednesday, October 5. Despite me battling sleep depravation due to coming directly from my third full day of shooting, the film was able to keep me interested, engaged and alert, which honestly surprised me given the reputation of Malaysian films to be a bit slow and boring.
Before watching foreign language films, I like to read a plot summary if possible to make it easier to understand the film whilst a large portion of my conscious is directed at the subtitles. In this case, I think it greatly advantaged my viewing, as I was able to make a lot more sense of the film than the others I attended with, who went in with no foresight. However, I still had to re-read the plot synopsis and some reviews before I understood the film.
The film’s producer Nandita Solomon was present at the screening which was really interesting, as she was able to convey some insight into the cultural history and lore featured in the movie, which otherwise went completely over my head. Though she was able to shed light on why a young boy spoke normally one minute and with an old man’s voice the next, some things I accept I probably wont ever truly understand, which I suppose is the reason one’s own national cinema is so important to them.
The general story was very interesting, and the characters definitely caught me off-guard, in that the businessman brother did a complete 180 and turned out to be an evil, greedy antagonist, while one of the original antagonists (the assassin brother) ended up giving up his own life in order to spare his younger brother, and in doing so transformed into a tragic hero.
I know from further research that many people online consider the acting in Bunohan terrific, I had a hard time drawing context, emotion and information from the acting, and relied heavily on just reading the subtitles to understand scenes. If a character wasn’t mentioned by name, like most characters except the three brothers, I found myself having a hard time working out not so much who they were, but what role they played in the story and why they were there.
Though I generally enjoyed the camerawork, for a movie about underground boxing the fight scenes seemed very sloppily shot. Kicks and punches were cut in odd places and didn’t land properly, and the otherwise brutal fights ended up looking like a more intense WWE match. A dizzying amount of motion blur and shaky, fast-panning shots further helped mask the action and disconnect me from the fights.
Considering the screen time actually given to fighting, that last comment might be a bit too harsh of an overall criticism of the film. The cinematography was generally awesome, and featured nice flourishes like subtle zolly/Vertigo shots.
In the Q&A session after the screening, Nandita was asked if the film was made with domestic or international markets in mind. Nandita almost took offence to this, telling us that as a Malaysian filmmaker, she interprets that question to mean making a film purely intended for local Malaysian audiences implies a lower set of standards, compared to a film destined for worldwide festival trails. Bunohan is a film rich in local Malay culture and history, but with plenty of allure and intrigue that allowed it to reach the success it has today.