the legend of the sea
benjamin toh
i went in with low expectations, which the film pretty much lived down to. and then some. the opening shot of dead fish was already all wrong, as they looked more like stone fish.
forget the idea of a rich and teeming underwater ocean, the animation wasn't even sophisticated enough to convey texture and interaction between surfaces.
DT quipped it was more like legend of the swimming pool.
and if the animation's not up to scratch, a good story would still hold my attention. nothing to be found here but lazy exposition and blunt plot devices to propel the story, such as it is, forward. something tedious about the dragon prince and his pals having to save the underwater kingdom from the evil octopus ocho.
the bottom of my expectations, and my jaw, fell out though when the ocho started singing. what the hell is this tuneless caterwauling? was this a cinema hall? or some hitherto unknown circle of hell for movie-goers?
then draco starts belting out the pop song unchanging freedom, singer jj lin's tie-in single, and i couldn't decide which was worse.

apropos of a discussion on backpacks or suitcases. definitely backpack. had to lug my bloody suitcase from paddington station to K's flat and it was painful.
and heathrow airport sucks. on arrival, it took forever for the bags to arrive at the stuffy baggage claims hall. on departure, the badly signposted gate was the furthest one possible, with no travellator in sight after a while.

K's 2 bedroom apartment is conveniently located near paddington. went out in search of food after dumping luggage and managed to get some fish and chips (about 5 pounds) to go after walking for a bit. most shops were closed by 11pm.
actually had one day of dry, somewhat sunny weather which i spent at the british museum (finally got to see the acropolis metopes and sculptures; fascinating assyrian collection as well) and then happily shopping at h&m (shirts at 10 pounds), uniqlo (limited edition t-shirts at 2 for 20) and fopp, an excellent indie cd store where much of the back catalog goes for 5 quid an album. picked up bright eyes' fevers and mirrors and sufjan stevens' christmas box set.
lunched at canela, 33 earlham street. chorizo tart proved to be too rich and monotonous. sangria was good though.
quick dinner with JW, J and K at cous cous house. surprisingly tasty and the chicken, lamb and vegetable cous cous dishes actually had the distinct taste of each.
caught equus in which daniel radcliffe (aka harry potter) runs around the stage nude. have to say he acquitted himself pretty well in the role. my quibble is that he sounds too cultured to be an uneducated lower working class fellow.
cake and coffee at konditor & cook after.
weather next day was more like classic london, overcast and then finally raining when it came time to lug the bloody suitcase back to paddington. ate at the borough market (excellent raclette for 4,50), took in tate modern (art in a chic, cavernous space; great views of the city across the river) and the south bank (Shakespeare's globe etc). too late for lunch by the time we hit anchor & hope.
ended up at harrod's. had dessert at the parisian patisserie laduree - a marble-topped, chandeliered shrine to pastries. the chocolate eclair was ok, but the ispahan was lovely, a rose-coloured vision in raspberries and lychees.
oh, and cannes. walked down the red carpet... for an 8.30am screening of gus van sant's paranoid park (felt like elephant redux at first, once again plumbing into the blank-faced heart of darkness of disengaged youth; then he starts revealing what actually happened and the movie loses some steam). which means the stars weren't there. didn't manage to make the late night red carpet screenings, usually some official event on. anyway, unlikely to have gotten tix.
tried to get into a screening of my blueberry nights, but alas. caught import/export instead, a grim look at life in the desolate wintry wasteland that is ukraine, and the unforgiving cold-hearted soul-sucking urban centre in austria. cheery stuff.
also caught pleasure factory, disappointing flesh fest which needed more fleshed-out characters, and 2 programs of shorts.
saw kimura takuya strolling on the water front, but it was a tightly-controlled event and his entourage made sure no photos were taken.

Wong Kar Wai's My Blueberry Nights was one of the most eagerly awaited films at Cannes this year. He is, after all, a favoured son of the film festival, and this was his English-language debut starring Jude Law and singer-turned-actress Norah Jones.
It was one of the many films that I did not manage to catch. I stood in line for a screening at a cinema but I suspect they were out of tickets even before the line started moving.
The red carpet screening, had I been in time for that, was probably out of my league.
If you're hankering for a hierarchical and strictly-structured society, you can certainly get a good dose of it here at Cannes. You need an official pass for access and there are colour codes for the different classes of participants. So you knew your place according to the colour of your press pass - pink for power, blue for blah, and yellow for yikes. How civilized!
One of the sweetest moments came when I was standing in line for the press screening of Ulrich Seidl’s Import Export (a cheery little number about life in the wintry wasteland that is Ukraine and the soul-sucking wasteland that is urban Austria) and was helpfully informed by this poor schlub with a yellow pass that the line for blue passes was up ahead. Nothing like having someone ranked below you to make you feel better about your own low place in society.
Actually, I did walk the red carpet. At an 8.30am press screening of Gus Van Sant’s Paranoid Park (felt like Elephant redux at first, another look into the heart of teenaged blank-faced darkness). This was the best time to catch a screening because the well-connected folks were still recovering from the previous night’s fabulous parties. It also meant beating the surprisingly ferocious heat along the French Riviera.
The celebrity encounters were mostly through interviews. Korean director Kim Ki Duk and his star Chang Chen were there for Breath, which was in competition, while Yang Kuei-mei was in Cannes for Ekachai Uekrongtham’s Pleasure Factory (three red-light district stories in search of characters).
There was definitely a frisson of je ne sais quois conducting an interview with Kim while a middle-aged woman sunbathed topless in the background.
Random sightings included Amitabh Bachchan - oh my god! he’s walking around the film market! no one comes to the film market! - which was exciting enough even though I’m not a fan.
Then there was Kimura Takuya and the other guy from SMAP, Shingo whatshisname, strolling along the beach promenade. There was an entourage trailing along, from which this one guy detached himself when I fished out my camera. His grasp of English seemed limited but effective - “no photographs”.
And Penelope Cruz, on a large tv screen on the wall of the Palais des Festivals, helpfully positioned for those who didn’t have a direct view of the red carpet. At least, that’s what my neighbour said.

Death Of A Salaryman
Fiona Campbell
This is a quirky, engaging tale of a Japanese worker’s midlife crisis and redemption set in modern-day Tokyo.
Yamada Kenji has been a salaryman at a television corporation for 22 years, “longer than he had been married”. When he is unceremoniously fired on his 40th birthday, he has to figure out what to do with his life.
It’s a good thing there’s a ready assortment of colourful characters to guide him along, including Izumi Izo, the enthusiastic and optimistic itinerant salesman, and Doppo, the pachinko pro who shows Kenji the tricks of the trade.
But Kenji also has to deal with a condescending mother- in-law, a distant wife and a two-faced TV producer when he finally gets a chance to turn his idea for a game show into reality.
British author Fiona Campbell takes a risk by setting her debut novel in a foreign land, one which she has lived in for only a few months.
Impressively, she pulls it off with a sharp eye for detail and empathy for her characters. While Kenji’s passiveness can be maddening, you can’t help but root for him as he undergoes travail after travail.
Campbell also balances the offbeat elements well, such that the novel does not veer into surreal territory but teeters deliciously on the edge.
The ending leaves us with a Kenji who has found contentment – but it sits a little oddly with the rest of the novel.
If you like this, read: Nice Work by David Lodge (1990, $26.78 with GST, Books Kinokuniya)Sparks fly when the worlds of Victor Wilcox, a managing director having a midlife crisis, and Robyn Penrose, a fiercely feminist English lecturer, collide. The final chapter and most satisfying of Lodge’s Rummidge trilogy about academic life.
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Blood Diamond
Leonardo DiCaprio/Jennifer Connelly/Djimon Hounsou/143 minutes
Sierra Leone has the misfortune to be blessed with diamonds. Mismanagement of this precious resource was one of the key factors which led to the outbreak of a devastating civil war in 1991 annd that ended only in 2002.
Against this seething backdrop, director Edward Zwick (The Last Samurai) tells the tale of a diamond smuggler (DiCaprio), a father trying to get his family back together again (Hounsou), and the stone that promises to be their ticket out.
Though heavy-handed at times, this drama with a conscience is anchored by strong performances by the roguishly charismatic DiCaprio and the magnetic Hounsou.
The two-disc special edition dvd includes behind-the-scenes featurettes. The director’s commentary track dishes out tidbits such as the fact that DiCaprio added colour to his lines by throwing in local slang.
The real gem, though, is the documentary Blood On The Stone, which takes stock of the Kimberly Process, set up to prevent the trade in conflict diamonds.
Tracing the journey of illegal stones all the way to New York, it reveals rampant corruption in Sierra Leon and the chilling recollections of a former Revolutionary United Front child soldier.
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Liza Wang and the Singapore Chinese Orchestra - A Mother's Day celebration
Singapore Indoor Stadium
Liza Wang knew who her fans were.They had watched her in TV series dating back to the late 1960s so the savvy Hong Kong-based singer-actress began the evening with classic theme songs.
Dressed in an elaborately ruffled confection of aquamarine and yellow, the58-year-old turned back the clock with songs such as Love And Passion and Yesterday’s Glitter.
Her first set ended with a rousing duet of A Boat Tracker’s Love with the Singapore Chinese Orchestra’s (SCO) principal dizi (Chinese flute) player Yin Zhiyang, an impressively robust baritone.
This was Wang’s first collaboration with the 75-member SCO, led by assistant conductor Ku Pao-wen.Which might explain why the chemistry was not quite there as she would sometimes linger over the notes while the SCO kept to a more straightforward pacing.
Still, the crowd of 6,000 seemed to enjoy themselves and even clapped along spontaneously at points. Wang bantered intermittently in Cantonese and said she was happy to see many young people with their mothers.
The almost stark stage featured a white backdrop and was flanked by two large screens. The size of the orchestra on the platform meant that Wang’s movements were limited to swaying gently along to the music.
But the veteran kept the spotlight firmly on herself with a series of costume changes. For the Chinese folk songs, she emerged in full ethnic get-up reminiscent of the tribes in Yunnan.
In the Chinese classics segment, clad in a white cheongsam and styled with a wavy hairdo, she morphed into a 1920s Shanghainese chanteuse.
The final group of songs were written by Hong Kong heavyweights Joseph Koo and James Wong and included Shanghai Beach and Brave Chinese Citizens, which Wang delivered in an elegant white gown with matching headpiece.
Calls for an encore were obliged by a spirited snatch of Cantonese opera from Women Warriors Of The Yang Family, a nice contrast to the sometimes sedate evening.
Her voice throughout was in pretty good form though it was clear that she connected better with the Cantonese material and you wish there had been more of that.
Judging from the crowd’s response, it would seem that her fans felt the same as well.
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Night At The Museum
Ben Stiller/Carla Gugino/Dick Van Dyke/108 minutes
The title and tagline – everything comes to life – pretty much tells you everything you need to know about the movie.
Oh, there’s a cursory story of a father fighting to earn his son’s respect and affection, but it’s merely tacked on as an excuse for the real star of the film – the special effects.
Stiller stars as the museum night guard who has to make sure nothing gets into, or out of, the building. Easier said than done when he has to deal with tyrannosaurus rex (or Rexy), marauding huns, and Lilliputian armies.
The DVD includes a director’s commentary in which Shawn Levy actually tells you where he pilfered the opening credits (Panic Room) and various shots from (Kramer Vs Kramer among others). At least he’s honest.
He also admitted that Stiller’s “unwavering perfectionism... can sometimes be hard”.
The blooper reel captures comedian Ricky Gervais’ (Britain’s The Office) notorious inability to get through a scene without cracking up.
There is also a simple game which involves the assembly of Rexy’s bones. Which confirms the suspicion that the movie is really pitched at little kids.
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Dirty Dozen Brass Band
Timbre Music Restaurant and Bar
A capacity crowd of over 260 people turned up to watch the American band chase away the Tuesday night blues.
It didn’t matter that the Dirty Dozen Brass Band was lacking one member – baritone and soprano saxophonist Roger Lewis had fallen ill just before they came here.
The remaining six members, in comfy get-ups of short-sleeved shirts, T-shirts and jeans, got going from the word go, with an infectious energy that didn’t let up for a second throughout the two 50-minute sets.
They had the audience singing along during a spirited rendition of When The Saints Go Marching In, a familiar gospel hymn closely associated with New Orleans. Trumpeter-flugelhorn player Efrem Towns improvised with the playful line “Oh when the Saints win the Superbowl”, a reference to the city’s football team, the New Orleans Saints.
Each band member also showcased his winning ways during the solos. In the steamy serving of blues that closed the first set, guitarist Kipori Woods demonstrated how one could use the tongue to play the instrument, too.
Not to be outdone, the big-lunged Towns blew two instruments at the same time. Now that’s something to toot your horn about.
The music-making was certainly tiring work which may admirers thoughtfully left offerings of beer on the stage.
When the band returned for the second set, they kicked things up a notch and Towns urged the crowd to loosen up. The call was answered at first by one lone chap in a suit and a vivid pink shirt.
Danny Loong, co-founder of Singapore’s premier blues band Ublues, also won applause, jamming along on his guitar and duelling with Woods in a dazzling exchange of riffs.
By the time the band got to their classic My Feet Can’t Fail Me Now, half the crowd was up and grooving to the irresistible music.
As Lewis had promised in an earlier phone interview, this was music for the mind, the soul and certainly the body.
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Village People Radio Show
Amir Muhammad
Banned in Malaysia, the film features interviews with some aged, surviving members of the Communist Party of Malaya (CPM) now living in an idyllic south Thailand village.
In the production notes for the film, writer-director Amir Muhammad declares that the “history of Malaysia, like any other nation, is not served by shutting out voices that do not conform to a hegemonic telling. Otherwise, we would end up with a history of amnesia.”
Which also happens to be the title of local writer Alfian Sa’at’s 2001 poetry collection – his salvo against the encroachment of forgetfulness and silence in Singapore.
While Amir’s sentiment is noble, his idiosyncratic film can be hard to follow as much of the context is not given and the interviewees are not clearly identified.
Still, kudos to him for getting around the problem of too much talking-heads footage by having the interviews unfold over scenes of tranquil village life, juxtaposing memories of the turbulent past with the sleepy present.
Meanwhile, the constant presence of children – the film opens with a little boy giving a short self-introduction in Thai – is at once hopeful and a reminder of the permanence of exile.
And the constant interruption of a fictional Thai radio drama about a wronged queen enforces the point that history cannot be neatly contained or easily told in a straightforward manner.
Perhaps it’s best to think of this as an (even more) experimental companion piece to his similarly banned The Last Communist, about CPM leader Chin Peng.
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Summer Palace
Lou Ye
It is worth noting that the title of the film is Summer Palace, and not Tiananmen Square. Even though director Lou Ye conflates the personal with the political, it is the former that has his attention here.
The story begins with Yu Hong (Hao Lei) leaving her border hometown of Tumen for Beijing, where she has been accepted at university. Lou paints in a few broad strokes the heady and intoxicating brew that is college life.
When Yu meets fellow student Zhou Wei (Guo Xiaodong), they share an intimate bonding moment on the grounds of the Summer Palace. This is something which Yu subsequently tries to recapture in the course of her life, but to no avail.
At the same time, the young lovers’ intensely emotional and physical relationship is being played out against the background of intellectual foment.Willy-nilly, Yu, Zhou and their classmates are drawn into the student protests of mid-1989.
Perhaps the most moving scene in the film is when Zhou Wei’s room-mate lashes out in anger and frustration after a long, terrible night in which students are fired upon. Suddenly, personal relationships are dwarfed into insignificance.
But despite the most momentous of upheavals, life goes on and the characters have to struggle with the quotidian business of living and loving.
Hao gives a fearless performance as the vulnerable and temperamental Yu for whom sex is a means of revealing herself to the man she loves. She and Guo also share a chemistry that comes through on screen.
Guo has less to work with given the somewhat enigmatic character of Zhou. It is also disconcerting to find in him a strong resemblance to Adrian Pang in certain scenes.
You wish, though, that the acting is in service to a stronger story.
While there is a point to the anti-climactic feel of the latter half of the movie, it seems a little repetitive as Yu moves from one man to another, even as she knows that she will not find what she is looking for.
By the time the denouement finally rolls around, the idealism and hope of summer has long passed and it seems that only a chilly and desolate winter lies ahead.
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Born Into Brothels
Zana Briski, Ross Kauffman
When co-director Zana Briski first ventured into the brothels of Sonagachi, Kolkata, as a photographer, she found herself surrounded by curious children. She decided to teach them photography and soon found herself deeply involved in their lives.
The film documents her attempts to get eight of these kids into schools and away from the world of prostitution.
It wisely keeps the focus on the children including spirited and fearless Puja,talented and sensitive Avijit, wise and gentle Gour, their stories and the joy and sense of empowerment that photography gives them.
It has been three years since the film was completed. Updates on the children can be found on www.kids-with-cameras.org, the website of the non-profit organisation set up by Briski to help marginalised children around the world through photography.
The powerful message that emerges from this film is that one can, as individuals, make a difference.
It also demonstrates that when hope is introduced into the most wretched of situations, there is a shot that it will take root, grow and eventually blossom.
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