And the arms of the ocean are carrying me,
And all this devotion was rushing out of me,
And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me,
The arms of the ocean deliver me.
April 14, 2012
March 31, 2012
A few mornings ago, I had the grand opportunity to have a conversation with a nightlife worker. As a potential filmmaker (that’s what I like to think I am), I find it important to constantly expose myself to different experiences, even if such experiences don’t belong to me.
The opportunity presented itself when the nightlife worker, who also happens to be a foreign worker, invited me for breakfast after a long night of making awkward small talk over the ever so loud music in the nightclub. It was 6am. I had a plate of Bee Hoon in front of me. I was utterly exhausted from staying out for close to 12 hours. But I could not resist the temptation of asking about her life. To clarify, she was not a sex worker. Although, I would very much like to have a similar conversation with a sex worker. She was merely a nightlife entertainer, a social miscue, a tactic used by the nightclub to get men to spend their entire fortunes on drinks. Merely. How wrong was I.
The conversation turned out to be a 2 hour long session of heart pouring revelations and stories. Her life, her experiences, her humanisation. Everything unraveled neatly in front of me. What shocked me was how brazenly honest and open she was about her life. We were practically strangers before we sat down for the conversation. And yet, here she was, telling me her life story. From every bad relationship to why she chose the profession. It was as though she was proving to me that she was human after all. I was clutching the table for fear she would burst into tears and the Bee Hoon auntie will stare at me. Her life made my life seem like a fairy tale. Yes, I realised how much of a charmed world I lived in.
She was more human than anyone I have ever met. She shared that her life began at 16, finding work and supporting herself. She got married and divorced with 1 child. And now she was 26 and working in a nightclub. Where did all the years go? Simply building a life that she did not want. All she wants to do now is find her own way into the world and live her own life. At that point, it occurred to me that I will probably find myself in a similar situation when I turn 26.
Since that morning, I have been extremely grateful for my charmed life. Like many others, I find myself discriminating such nightlife workers to a certain extent. The stigma to the life they lead is inevitable, given the amount of lecherous personal they attract. They have a choice to go into another profession, so why continue with such a life? It would seem that the wrong choice is the best choice. There’s always 2 sides to a story, and I like to remind myself that I am in no position to judge anyone. No one is really, except well God.
Towards the end of the conversation, she asked me what I thought about her life. I explained it was very interesting, but very difficult. She replied with a simple nod and smile.
Such is life. A nod and smile.
March 29, 2012
Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance
Submitted by mmmedina.
March 22, 2012
I opened the door. Taking large steps into the wintery night, it felt like a life changing night. Stillness atmosphere. A simple fleeting emotion that made all men delirious. I smiled to myself as I stumbled into my car. Stepping on the gas, I was off.
The journey was long and painful. It never stopped. I needed the right spot. I prided myself in being an irrational perfectionist. It had to be right, and it will be right. I drove for ages. The scenery changed from land to sea to land to sea. Breeze drives are what I called them. They had such a brilliant calming effect. That was part of the problem. It felt too calming. I needed to get out of the car. It was an uncanny feeling. I pulled the car by the side and got out. It was an ocean view. A cliff top. And at once I knew, this was the spot.
I took a deep breath. The little perfectionist voice in my head screamed at me to survey the surroundings. And I did. There was no one. I was on Mars. The wind was unrelenting. Gosh it was cold! I took off my gloves and stuck my hands out like a boy experiencing snow for the first time. It was perfect. I edge closer to the edge. The horizon was straight ahead. And the Sun burned through the atmosphere until it hit me like it should. I thought long and hard what should be said before the right moment. Whether I should say something poignant. My gosh what a dilemma! Silence. It was the right thing to do. My perfectionist self would be so proud. And then I heard a voice.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?”
I whipped around. A pang of terror. I have been exposed! And there stood a girl. She was standing against the light. It would be pretentious for me to say she looked like an angel in the sunlight. But she did! I squinted to get a better look at her. Where did she come from? She edged closer. The confusion dumbfounded me. Where did she come from?
“Can you speak?”
I nodded like a damn fool. She smiled. And gosh, it was the biggest and brightest smile I have ever seen. And trust me, I have seen big smiles in my life. Slowly, she edged closer and closer. Her eyes. Oh her lovely brown eyes. Freckles. That was all I saw. Brown eyes and freckles. She stopped right in front of me. I bet my face had the look of a damned fool. Her smile did not leave her face. Lavender. She smelt like lavender. What a curious situation.
“Give me your hand.”
And like an obedient child, I extended my shaking hand. She took it and clasped it in her own. A rush of consciousness sped through me. It was like nothing I have felt before. And I loved it. My perfectionist self shook his head. But I didn’t care. Her touch was clinging onto my being. All thoughts left my mind. Life. Life mattered. All I wanted was to have more. What was going on? Our gaze was unbroken. And her smile, oh her damn smile! It never left. I cleared my throat and croaked out the words “Where did you come from?”
She didn’t answer. And it didn’t matter. I was here. She was here. And we were alive.
March 18, 2012
"We turned at a dozen paces, for love is a duel, and looked at each other for the last time."
— On The Road, Jack Kerouac
March 1, 2012
A truly remarkable story from the unlikeliest of places, Iran. I have to admit my exposure to Iranian cinema has been limited, or rather non-existent before this film came to my attention. But A Separation thoroughly made me sit up and watch with immense interest. The story was simple, the problems relatable and the religious aspect rather eye opening. It was a film made by Iran, for Iran. Beautifully shot with powerfully acting all around, the film didn’t feel like the 2 hours it was. At the end of it, I realised how insignificant our 1st world problems are and how deeply fortunate I have such a different life. The deep underlying issues which affect the lower class citizens are what matters more than whether or not I’m getting the next iPhone.
A Separation opened my eyes to a different world and life, whilst maintaining the same issues that affect my world and life. And that is what made the film amazing.
February 28, 2012
"I realised these were all the snapshots which our children would look at someday with wonder, thinking their parents had lived smooth, well-ordered, stabalised-within-the-photo lives and got up in the morning to walk proudly on the sidewalks of life, never dreaming the raggedy madness and riot of our actual lives, our actual night, the hell of it, the senseless nightmare road. All of it inside endless and beginningless emptiness. Pitiful forms of ignorance."
— On The Road, Jack Kerouac
February 27, 2012
The Artist
Back in September last year, I mentioned it would be amazing if The Artist was nominated for Best Picture at this year’s Oscars. The crazy thing was, it actually WON Best Picture today at the 84th Academy Awards. Extraordinary stuff from the world of cinema. I’ve always had my reservations about the Best Picture wins, ever so suspicious that most of the time the really great films and film-makers get left out (David Fincher this year, Christopher Nolan last year) However, it was spot on this year with The Artist and Michel Hazanavicius taking the top prizes.
This year’s lineup for Best Picture and Best DIrection were clearly not as packed as last year’s. I had great difficulty deciding Best Picture last year with Black Swan, King’s Speech, Social Network & Inception all blowing me away. None of the films had that impact on me this year, with the exception of The Artist. Similarly, Tom Hooper, Darren Aronofsky and David Fincher were all deserved winners last year. And only Michel Hazanavicius impressed me this year.
Call me naive, but I firmly believe The Artist’s win is a step in the right direction for cinema.
February 16, 2012
Hasselblad
The link leads to a photograph featured on The Sartorialist. I’m not a huge fan of fashion (GASP he did not just say that), but I do browse The Sartorialist once in a while. I am a fan of Scott Schuman and admire all he has done for the fashion and photographic community.
This particular photograph was probably accentuating the lady’s coat/shoes/fashion sense. However, what struck me was how she had nothing on her except a camera. No bag, no accessories, just a camera. (I dug around the site and found out she is a photographer) And that really inspired me. Just a person with a camera, nothing else, roaming the streets and finding objects/people/the world to inspire her.
I will find a day to roam the streets just like that. Just me & my camera. Nothing else.
February 1, 2012
I somehow managed to squeeze in a little time to watch this indie romance drama film which won the Grand Jury at Sundance last year.
I loved everything about this film. The shoestring budget, the acting and chemistry between the 2 leads, the portrayal of love as it truly is and above all, the improvisational concept of the film which is reminiscent of Godard. I find that it takes a vast amount of guts and skill to have no proper script and rely entirely upon the actors’ improvisation to carry a film forward. In this aspect, Drake Doremus did an excellent job. Oh and the film was captured entirely using a Canon DSLR, which made it uncannily realistic and down to earth.
Like Crazy is a genuine portrayal of a couple trying to make things work, less all the Hollywood fluff of happy endings as well. I found myself rooting for the leads, in hope that they will have that Hollywood fluff of happy endings. It was bittersweet, honest and heartbreakingly amazing.
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