We Could **** You Mr. Birch by Kee Thuan Chye (Kee Thuan Chye, 1994, 83 pages).
I was recently at a 99-year old secondary school in Ipoh. The auditorium had those boards that listed the sports champions through the years. I was surprised to find that one of the sports teams was named Birch.
Birch! I wonder how the kids assigned to that sports house would have felt. (I would have been perversely proud). JWW Birch, the first British Resident of colonial Perak, is not usually a name to be celebrated. Here was a man who did not understand ‘our’ customs, insulted ‘our’ traditions, and was suitably punished by being murdered in his (rather than ‘our’) bath.
Having a sports group in independent Malaysia named after him would be like having a team in a Taliban madrasah named after Kamal Attartuk. Or so it would seem. But were things really that simple? Was Birch the unrepentant rogue we have been led to believe?
When I got back home I dug up the text of this play. Now here’s a funny story: The original title was We Could Kill You Mr. Birch. But the licensing authorities of 1994 thought the word ‘kill’ was too rude. So the playwright Kee Thuan Chye changed it to four asterisks. The authorities approved, not realising of course that the title now seemed much ruder.
In case the cheeky title doesn’t give it away, this is not a straight-forward depiction of history. It’s more like a satirical interrogation. Actors play multiple roles and jump in and out of character, sometimes addressing the audience directly. It is post-colonial, post-modernist and has many quotable quotes that you can save on Post It notes.
Most of the action takes place during the last days of Birch in 1874. Some of the characters are based on real people but others are blatantly fictional. We know they are fictional because the characters helpfully tell us.
The idea of using composite or made-up characters to make us understand a historical era better is, of course, valid and good. This play also does something else: it invites us to reinterpret commonly held ideas and prejudices, including a surely crowd-pleasing one about comparative genitalia.
There’s a bit where someone cuts off not his genitalia but his middle finger. The digit then appears in a royal dream. It would appear than the play is also like a finger. A finger can do many things, not just tickle.
If Birch were such a bad guy, why did he want to free the slaves? Lest we forget, slavery was very much a part of Malay society then. How could a society that condoned such a barbaric practise claim the moral high ground? And were the noblemen who objected to him really concerned about customs and values, or were they just thinking of the taxes they wouldn’t be able to collect once his centralized system came into place? But on the other hand: did Birch’s piecemeal innovations cancel out the fact that he was part of a racist colonial machine?
Royalty played a big part in the machinations of that era. The choice of ruler was not something divinely ordained but born out of political negotiations, back-stabbing and blackmail. In this context, it is doubly amusing to read now even of liberal intellectuals who keep thirsting for the latest proclamations from this fundamentally undemocratic institution. What gives?
There are some deliberate comic anachronisms and uses of words that reflected the political scenario of 1994 (like “recalcitrant”) because the play is about an issue that continues to matter today: How do we ensure that those in power don’t simply get away with anything? (In an aside, the Federal government’s takeover of Sabah in the early 1990s is used as contemporary parallel. But the play script says that this can be adapted and updated to any suitable event).
It’s a subversive play in both form and content. Lest the audience be let off the hook, the ending takes place squarely in the present day, in a kind of existential capitalist hell, with the characters buying and selling shares. Which makes you wonder if we are any freer than we were back then. But lest we get all dour about it, the play seals its critique with a dance beat.
(Malay Mail, 20 August 2008)
Wednesday, 20 August 2008
Tuesday, 19 August 2008
The Big Durian DVD
It returns this week, with the nice cover by Shahril Nizam!
The DVD can now be ordered HERE.
This is the trailer as edited by Azharr Rudin:
The DVD can now be ordered HERE.
This is the trailer as edited by Azharr Rudin:
Saturday, 16 August 2008
Interview avec moi
A few months ago I served on the jury for a film festival in France. I was interviewed by some journalists at the hotel lobby about (if I can recall) Malaysian short films, and the result is here.
What's discomforting is that the photo of me bears such an uncanny resemblance to the late Loloq (who was a great guy, by the way). What gives?
What's discomforting is that the photo of me bears such an uncanny resemblance to the late Loloq (who was a great guy, by the way). What gives?
Wednesday, 13 August 2008
Off to the censors it goes
My new movie Malaysian Gods will be sent to the Malaysian Film Censorship Board today, together with the requisite RM50 fee.
I hope there will be no problems! This is the synopsis:
On 20 September 1998, the recently-sacked Deputy Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim headed a massive anti-government demonstration in Kuala Lumpur. A few hours later, he was arrested at his home. Ten years later, an unnamed man walks along the same path that the demonstrators took. He reminisces about the past and notices the buildings and people around him. It starts to rain but he keeps on walking. Will he reach his destination?
Duration: 68 minutes
Budget: RM10,000
I wanted to return to the low-budget starkness of my 6horts. It is a very direct way to communicate but there is (I hope) fun to be had along the way.
The censors will get back to us by 28 August.
I hope there will be no problems! This is the synopsis:
On 20 September 1998, the recently-sacked Deputy Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim headed a massive anti-government demonstration in Kuala Lumpur. A few hours later, he was arrested at his home. Ten years later, an unnamed man walks along the same path that the demonstrators took. He reminisces about the past and notices the buildings and people around him. It starts to rain but he keeps on walking. Will he reach his destination?
Duration: 68 minutes
Budget: RM10,000
I wanted to return to the low-budget starkness of my 6horts. It is a very direct way to communicate but there is (I hope) fun to be had along the way.
The censors will get back to us by 28 August.
The year that shook the nation
FACE OFF: A Malaysian Reformasi Diary (1998-9) by Sabri Zain (BigO Books, 2000, 198 pages)
If you’re the type to follow the news (well, you must be, since you’re reading a newspaper) you might be experiencing a rush of déjà vu. That is, if you were alive and sentient during the sacking of Anwar Ibrahim almost exactly ten years ago.
You may choose to recall the events of the time by gathering your grandchildren around and regaling them with heart-warming stories, such as “The first time Grandpa heard the word sodomy mentioned on TV was…”
Or you can read this book. Face Off is a compilation by someone who was hitherto not known as a journalist. The word ‘blogger’ didn’t exist then either, but the Internet did, and it’s the Internet that made Sabri Zain’s name.
He was an ordinary Joe, with no party-political affiliations, who happened to be present during those anxious months. He would often post his reports on reformasi demonstrations and ceramah within hours of the events. I used to read them on the Sangkancil mailing-list, where the other stalwart was the late MGG Pillai.
Although the wonderful Pillai often indulged in conspiracy theories, Sabri’s was a more ground-level gaze. His very first posting, A Spark Is Lit, is an account of the massive demonstration in KL on 20 September 1998, just a few hours before Anwar got arrested. The article immediately got forwarded all over the place and was printed in the alternative print media.
The reason it was so widely read: People started to really distrust and even hate the TV and newspapers. Utusan Malaysia honcho (who would later become Information Minister) Zainuddin Maidin defended himself thus: “We’re biased. But we don’t tell lies.”
But it was Utusan Malaysia that accused all women at a demonstration of being prostitutes. And so it’s up to Sabri to wonder if the actual prostitutes were not the ones who wrote the report.
What distinguished Sabri from the many other commentators at the time was that he could write. Each article unfolds like a keenly observed narrative with suspense, pathos, and not occasional humour. He is particularly good at capturing the ground-breaking camaraderie and optimism of gathered crowds, when people of all stripes came together to express their disgust. When an all-Malay panel can convene at the Chinese Assembly Hall, you know the country’s in for an interesting time.
Nowadays, if we want to feel like ‘we were there’, most of us would resort to Youtube. Sabri could give you that rush purely with words, and this is what makes Face Off probably the finest example of Malaysian first-person reportage in book form.
This is not to say that Sabri was unbiased. Who was it that said, “Objectivity is a kind of ignorance?” He was fully behind the people who would start Parti Keadilan and does not apologise for it. But, compared to the system embodied by Zainuddin, he came across like a shining voice of reason. I am sure his tone – passionate but measured and witty – managed to convert quite a few to the cause.
Sabri has been living overseas for some years now. I don’t know if this has anything to do with the libel suit against him by a justly-forgotten personality of that era. But in his place there are many others who now bear witness, just not as consistently, eloquently or urgently.
His last article in the book takes place exactly a year after the first.. You can’t quite imagine that so much was packed into those 12 months; it’s like the nation is still reeling from it.
Reading Face Off now might make you sigh, because you miss the time when certain personalities existed more as icons than mere, fallible politicians. But you can’t stay pessimistic for long, because, as it emerges, the true heroes in this book are not the adored leaders but the ordinary people who demonstrated courage and resilience in the face of a massively entrenched, hegemonic system.
This book is currently out of print. But the good news is that all the articles in it can be found online, which is where they started. They form a valuable portrait of a time when Malaysians decided to not be so afraid.
(Malay Mail, 13 August 2008)
If you’re the type to follow the news (well, you must be, since you’re reading a newspaper) you might be experiencing a rush of déjà vu. That is, if you were alive and sentient during the sacking of Anwar Ibrahim almost exactly ten years ago.
You may choose to recall the events of the time by gathering your grandchildren around and regaling them with heart-warming stories, such as “The first time Grandpa heard the word sodomy mentioned on TV was…”
Or you can read this book. Face Off is a compilation by someone who was hitherto not known as a journalist. The word ‘blogger’ didn’t exist then either, but the Internet did, and it’s the Internet that made Sabri Zain’s name.
He was an ordinary Joe, with no party-political affiliations, who happened to be present during those anxious months. He would often post his reports on reformasi demonstrations and ceramah within hours of the events. I used to read them on the Sangkancil mailing-list, where the other stalwart was the late MGG Pillai.
Although the wonderful Pillai often indulged in conspiracy theories, Sabri’s was a more ground-level gaze. His very first posting, A Spark Is Lit, is an account of the massive demonstration in KL on 20 September 1998, just a few hours before Anwar got arrested. The article immediately got forwarded all over the place and was printed in the alternative print media.
The reason it was so widely read: People started to really distrust and even hate the TV and newspapers. Utusan Malaysia honcho (who would later become Information Minister) Zainuddin Maidin defended himself thus: “We’re biased. But we don’t tell lies.”
But it was Utusan Malaysia that accused all women at a demonstration of being prostitutes. And so it’s up to Sabri to wonder if the actual prostitutes were not the ones who wrote the report.
What distinguished Sabri from the many other commentators at the time was that he could write. Each article unfolds like a keenly observed narrative with suspense, pathos, and not occasional humour. He is particularly good at capturing the ground-breaking camaraderie and optimism of gathered crowds, when people of all stripes came together to express their disgust. When an all-Malay panel can convene at the Chinese Assembly Hall, you know the country’s in for an interesting time.
Nowadays, if we want to feel like ‘we were there’, most of us would resort to Youtube. Sabri could give you that rush purely with words, and this is what makes Face Off probably the finest example of Malaysian first-person reportage in book form.
This is not to say that Sabri was unbiased. Who was it that said, “Objectivity is a kind of ignorance?” He was fully behind the people who would start Parti Keadilan and does not apologise for it. But, compared to the system embodied by Zainuddin, he came across like a shining voice of reason. I am sure his tone – passionate but measured and witty – managed to convert quite a few to the cause.
Sabri has been living overseas for some years now. I don’t know if this has anything to do with the libel suit against him by a justly-forgotten personality of that era. But in his place there are many others who now bear witness, just not as consistently, eloquently or urgently.
His last article in the book takes place exactly a year after the first.. You can’t quite imagine that so much was packed into those 12 months; it’s like the nation is still reeling from it.
Reading Face Off now might make you sigh, because you miss the time when certain personalities existed more as icons than mere, fallible politicians. But you can’t stay pessimistic for long, because, as it emerges, the true heroes in this book are not the adored leaders but the ordinary people who demonstrated courage and resilience in the face of a massively entrenched, hegemonic system.
This book is currently out of print. But the good news is that all the articles in it can be found online, which is where they started. They form a valuable portrait of a time when Malaysians decided to not be so afraid.
(Malay Mail, 13 August 2008)
Tuesday, 12 August 2008
Deleted scene #2
This cameo by film producer David Teo (the one on the left) was fun to do, fast to shoot, but also fell to the cutting-room floor!
It was to take place very early (after we see Suzana singing in the radio station).
By cutting out this scene, we dissolve straight from Suzana singing to Soraya singing to the old woman, which works much better.
It was to take place very early (after we see Suzana singing in the radio station).
By cutting out this scene, we dissolve straight from Suzana singing to Soraya singing to the old woman, which works much better.
Spoilers galore!
If you'd like the entire plot explained to you, read the positive review in today's Utusan Malaysia. (If the link has trouble loading, you can read it here).
But if you don't like spoilers, don't read it lah.
I personally don't mind spoilers all that much. I have seen quite a few films including murder mysteries and The Sixth Sense after the endings were blabbed out to me, and I still enjoyed them. If anything, I felt like I was watching the films for the second time and noticing little clues.
But if you don't like spoilers, don't read it lah.
I personally don't mind spoilers all that much. I have seen quite a few films including murder mysteries and The Sixth Sense after the endings were blabbed out to me, and I still enjoyed them. If anything, I felt like I was watching the films for the second time and noticing little clues.
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