Cannes do, lah
A dynamic young director spurs Singapore's sleepy movie-making industry back to life.

By Murray Hiebert in Singapore. Far Eastern Economic Review July 17, 1997

ERIC Khoo has finally launched Singapore onto the world's movie screens. The thriving city-state draws kudos for its efficiency and economic competitiveness, but one honour had long evaded this hard-driving society: It had never boasted a movie worthy of an invite to the prestigious Cannes film festival.

Khoo, a young film director, changed all that when he wrapped 12 Storeys earlier this year. Cannes organizers welcomed his work, as did audiences. Its two screenings there played to full houses-and a French distributor signed on to release the film in France.

Two other homemade productions, God or Dog and The Road Less Travelled, also hit the big screen this year. This sudden spurt of movies marks the first time in two decades that Singaporean movie makers have tackled local themes. And it has fired up hopes that Singapore's once-thriving film industry may be headed for a renaissance.

In 12 Storeys, Khoo portrays a day in the life of three households in a public housing block. A bride born in China frustrates her husband by refusing to sleep with him; a domineering brother is obsessed with his sister's relationship with her boyfriend; and an overweight, single woman is tormented by her insufferable old mother. Their stories are told in the languages of Singapore: English and Mandarin with smatterings of Hokkien, Cantonese and Malay.

Khoo co-wrote the screenplay with businessman James Toh, and shot 12 Storeys in two weeks on a budget of only S$300,000 ($214,000). "12 Storeys stands out, it tries to say something," enthuses Sandy Tan, who recently quit her job as movie critic for the Straits Times to study movie-making. "It's not fully accomplished-it's a work in progress-but Eric's on his way."

Khoo, 32, who studied cinematography in Sydney, captured international attention two years ago with his first movie, Mee Pok Man. It tells the touching story of an intellectually challenged noodle seller who falls in love with a weary prostitute who frequents his stall. Khoo paints anything but the typically sterile image of Singapore. Mee Pok Man reveals the city's seamy underside in the shadows of its bustling marble office towers. The movie cost just S$100,000 to produce, but it won two special jury prizes at the Singapore International Film Festival-and invitations to more than 30 other festivals.

Although he was "born into the hotel business"-his father Khoo Teck Puat's property portfolio includes the luxury Goodwood Park, York and Lady Hill Hotels-Khoo credits his interest in the cinema to his mother, who started taking him to movies when he was just two years old. They spent hours absorbed in Westerns, James Bond flicks and even horror shows. When he was seven, he started using her video camera to make short films. "While other kids were playing sports," Khoo says, "I was fidgeting with a camera."

Khoo draws some inspiration from the work of Polish film maker Krzysztof Kieslowski, best known for his focus on coincidence and fatalism, who died in March at the age of 54. Although Khoo prefers European films to American ones, his taste in films is purely eclectic. "I watch anything from B films to small independent avant-garde works."

Movie buffs see Khoo's works as a sign that Singapore's nascent film industry is sputtering back to life. Movie-making was big business in the city-state in the 1950s and 1960s, turning out mainly Malay-language movies. But the industry died in 1973, when movie maker Cathay-Keris closed shop. No Singapore company emerged to compete with the popular Chinese-language movie industry in Hong Kong and Taiwan.

For the next two decades, Singapore turned out almost no movies. Then came Yon Fan's Bugis Street: The Movie, a sensational look at the lives of transvestites in the 1970s. Khoo quickly followed with his Mee Pok Man, grossing close to S$400,000. These two films inspired others. Theatre-operator Cathay Organization, a one-time movie maker that had been dormant for two decades, brought local playwright Michael Chiang's successful comedy about army life to the screen in 1996. Army Daze chronicles the adventures of five ragtag recruits from enlistment through three months of basic training. The film, which cost S$700,000 to produce, became Singapore's first commercial success, grossing about S$1.6 million.

More movies followed in quick succession. God or Dog, by director/actor Hugo Ng, is loosely based on the sexual exploits and murders of an occultist who was hanged in Singapore a decade ago. The Road Less Travelled, a Mandarin movie by 25-year-old director Lim Suat Yen, highlights young people's frustrations as they pursue their artistic dreams in Singapore.

Despite the hoopla, critic Tan thinks Singapore movies still have a long way to go. "As separate pieces, they're not too mature," she says. "There's not anything to be taken too seriously, yet." Still, others are pleased just to see movies being produced again. "Four years ago we didn't have anything," says Whang Yee-Ling, movie critic for Eight Days, a local entertainment magazine. "Suddenly there's an explosion of Singapore productions."

Producer Khoo attributes the burst of activity to the founding a decade ago of the Singapore International Film Festival. "Suddenly we have a platform, with film critics coming from all over the world. If you're good, you'll be brought somewhere," he says. Whang credits Khoo. "He's the driving force. He managed to get Mee Pok Man made and screened in Singapore. That gave Singapore film makers the feeling that people would come to watch."

Resurrecting the film industry will be a formidable task, though. For starters, the country has a population of just 3 million; roughly half speak English as their first language, and the rest are divided among Chinese, Malay and Tamil. "Because of the breakdown by language, our market doesn't have the critical mass to sustain a film industry unless we manage to export movies," says Toh, the co-author of 12 Storeys. But breaking into developed markets is not easy, either. "It's tricky for a local film to travel around Asia if it's not a Jackie Chan action movie," notes Khoo.

Funding is another hurdle. Lim had to borrow the S$310,000 she needed for The Road Less Travelled from her family, friends and banks. But there are some promising developments. This year, the government's National Arts Council set aside S$38,000 for the international film festival. And it recently invited students who are interested in studying film-making to apply for a bursary.

Because so few films are shot on the island, Singapore's producers also face a shortage of studios and pre- and post-production facilities. There are few local actors who could be deemed "movie stars," so to cast for the characters in his films, Khoo mostly combs his circle of friends. Camera-rental outfits and sound facilities are also scarce: 12 Storeys' debut at the Singapore film festival was delayed when the company that signed up to do the soundtrack backed out at the last minute.

Censorship is another worry. "Scripts need to be vetted before shooting," says Khoo. His 1994 film, Pain, the shocking story of a young man who moves from masochism to murder, took the best director and best achievement honours in the Singapore Short Film Awards at the film festival. But it was still banned: The censors considered its violence excessively graphic. "It's more interesting to be able to tell a story with restrictions," Khoo says, adding that he self-censored 12 Storeys to achieve a parental guidance rating, rather than a restricted adult classification, so it could play in more cinemas.

Observers believe Singapore has the potential for developing a successful film industry, if the sector receives commercial backing. Toh notes that the island republic already has a vibrant performing-arts scene, a growing television-drama industry and a thriving television commercial business. "I'm not sure when we'll achieve a full-fledged movie industry," says Chiang, the Army Daze playwright. "It might take another five years."

Critic-turned-student Tan is more optimistic: "12 Storeys will have a snowball effect. People are getting excited, they're dreaming about the possibilities." Besides, Tan adds, "It's inevitable, when a country gets to a certain economic level, that people want to tell their own stories."