The Short Films of K.Rajagopal (I)

The 7th edition of the recent Singapore Short Cuts featured a retrospective of local filmmaker K. Rajagopal. 4 of his films - I Can't Sleep Tonight (1995), The Glare (1996), Absence (1997) and Brother (1997) - will be reviewed in this article, while The New World and Timeless - which were made after he broke out of his 10-year hiatus - will be reviewed in a separate article.

Set in the heart of Little India, I Can't Sleep Tonight tells of three individuals - all on the run for various reasons - and how their paths cross one night when the police close in. These displaced individuals, may be strangers to each other but they share one thing: they are all sleepless at night because they live in fear of being caught, and they are constantly yearning for home. When these three individuals eventually meet at a common area while on the run from the police, they silently show their solidarity and find solace in each other. For one night, they are each others' home and when the day breaks they all go their separate ways.

The film is almost devoid of any dialogue, choosing to employ a haunting voiceover that is assisted with stark, bleak images of the three different individuals. Even though some of the shots aren't very polished, with the occasional shaky shot and poor lighting, these are minor faults and understandable since K. Rajagopal was working within tight constraints. He freely admitted during the post screening discussion that back then he lacked technical knowledge and was learning from the process of filming itself. Thankfully, I do think the shaky camerawork and poor lighting do lend themselves to the docu-drama feel of the film and make the film feel more authentic.

The Glare tells the story of a woman who, faced with the harsh reality of an abusive drunkard husband, frequently escapes into her own fantastical world inspired by the television programmes she watches on television everyday. Squatting outside an electronics store everyday to watch programmes screened on the televisions on display, the irritated store owner eventually gives the woman a television set for free. The elated woman is shown celebrating in a wonderfully quirky and whimsical scene. One day, her drunkard husband finds out about the television set and destroys it, and the woman, now devoid of her fantasy outlet and unable to escape to her own little world, eventually goes out of her mind.

The woman is shut down, barely talking to anyone. She appears listless and submissive to her abusive husband. She works hard to support her child, as well as her good-for-nothing husband. She faces racial discrimination. Nothing seems to be going well for her.

There is one element in the film that redeems this landscape of despair. It is the dreams and hope of a woman. A woman - despite having no reason to be optimistic about life, and should have otherwise morphed into a cruel, bitter person - who shows extraordinary hope despite the oppressing circumstances she faces. These are wonderfully shown in kooky, hilarious (day)dream sequences where the woman transposes herself into the situation of characters in the television programmes she watches.

On the other hand, the film also, in a rather self reflexive way, warns of the dangers of obsession with the media and television. From the get go we see the stark image of the woman, already out of her mind, in a trance like state. This bleak shot is once again played out at the end. Despite the few moments of respite of hope we get in an otherwise dark film, K. Rajagopal cleverly makes it clear from the start that Hollywood type endings are not going to happen in this film. We sympathize with the woman because we know despite her strength and her hope, hers is ultimately a story of tragedy. Rajagopal deftly hits a home run in sending out a brutally honest message to us: we can (and should)have dreams, but we still need to live our lives in the real world and not have our heads in the clouds all the time.

In Absence, a young man comes to terms with issues in his past as he and his mother cope with the loss of their patriarch. He chooses to express himself with art, while his mother finds solace in religion. Both of them have skeletons in their closet, however, and ultimately this secret will both unite and tear them apart.

Compared to the previous 2 films, Absence shows much more polish in its technical aspects and features some absolutely stunning cinematography. The rain sequence featuring a man bathing struck me as particularly memorable.

Ultimately, the film explores the clash between freedom and obligation, and between modernity and tradition with a deft and sensitive treatment. The film basically oscillates between shots of the mother and the son for the first half of the film, tracking the contrast in the ways they cope with the death of the young man's father. In this day and age, the characters may seem to be too caricatured and perhaps the metaphor of art as freedom a little too cliched, but back in 1997 when this was filmed I believed it captured the zeitgeist of its time and the pain of families torn apart by differences in mindsets.

Brother tells of an unlikely friendship forged by two individuals: Ganga, an illegal immigrant, and Richard, a seemingly middle class working man. Put together by unlikely circumstances, their friendship grows deeper and they spend more time together. However, just as the film reaches its climax, tragedy ensues for this precarious friendship as Richard is forced to choose between the two very different worlds that each of them inhabits.

K. Rajagopal deftly injects much humour and masculine intimacy into the friendship between Richard and Ganga, tapping into the cultural habits of Indian males, and the product is a surprisingly tender, moving piece. The sudden climactic end works well in highlighting the tragic nature of the friendship, where circumstances are too strong to overcome and ultimately work to pry two people apart. Despite the sad ending, the film manages to steer clear of overwrought melodrama. K. Rajagopal shows much self assurance with this film, choosing to take a slow, steady pace with the film, capturing the little joys of a burgeoning friendship in a gentle and affecting manner. I felt that some of the shots were they happened to accidentally bump into each other at various locations were too contrived, but ultimately they do not take too much from the authenticity of the film, because the characters are believable and also commands our sympathy.

These four films, which are markedly different from K. Rajagopal's two newer ones (which will be reviewed later), are deeply inspired by situations and events he has witnessed in real life. While the films may not be sophisticated in its form, they have an authenticity that is undeniable and a poignancy that is raw and affecting. The first two films had some technical shoddiness that made some shots disorienting to watch (K. Rajagopal was charmingly self-deprecating and admitted he was still learning the ropes back then), but I thought Absence and Brother were much more technically competent. His earlier films may not be as polished as his later works, or even the student works of this day, but I find these films a breath of fresh air from the barrage of short films I watch these days because of its unpretentious qualities and minimalism. In these earlier films, K. Rajagopal keeps to his narrative and tells his stories with conviction, capturing the rawness and emotion the actors bring to his smart scripts. Even back then, during his initial foray in film making, he does not get sucked into the trappings of arthouse cinema, of which many amateur filmmakers are guilty off. His films have a plainness and minimalism that preserves their rawness and sensitivity, and does not include the redundant 'artsy' shots that punctuate so many amateur filmmaker's works. His is local narrative cinema at its best.

7th Singapore Short Cuts - 'One Day in June' by Daniel Hui

Straddling between a personal attempt to experiment with the fine lines between reality and film and a tribute to Andrei Tarkovsky (whether intentional or not), Daniel Hui takes one step further in questioning the cinematic art form in his films. 'One Day in June' follows the semi-conscious journey of a female character trying to re-acquaint herself with her immediate and original surroundings. She has just returned from a trip (apparently a long one) in Europe and is experiencing some kind of a mental dislocation from her old premises.

Vel Ng, who plays the character, listlessly ambles around her house and neighbourhood, like a zombie. From the opening clue of her trying to identify a stranger whom she had a missed connection with, we know she is searching for an answer. But also not, given her nonchalance about it. If none of it makes sense, perhaps the Q & A after offered a clue - the film explores Vel, the real person behind the character, touching and feeling her real origins again, hearing the ambience of her flat, soaking in the whizzing action of the roadside traffic and even remembering where her mum put the coffee powder.
Rather than engage you, the film is like a subliminal drone of the radio you hear when your tuner is in between the right frequencies. With its long shots, discrete soundtrack and deliberately prolonged moments of silence, it is pitched to work on your sub-conscious mind. However, the emptiness of the character and the lack of any establishment makes it hard to appreciate the film beyond just being structurally and conceptually beautiful. It is a pity because it is very confident in its cinematographic style. But 'One Day in June' is not futile in its attempt to reinvent something. Drawing a parallel with that red ball that drifted into a 'new' scene, the film has a niche in being able to make you pay attention to visual patterns and cinematic form, dissected from the heaviness of a typical narrative.

7th Singapore Short Cuts - 'When Almost Winter is Almost the End of Spring' by Sherman Ong

The biggest challenge of this film is to make the staid concrete HDB landscape look picturesque. Urban jungles can be stunning geometrically and evoke certain feelings of grandeur or lust or adventure of even thrill. The most exciting attribute I can allude to HDB landscape is it can be political, esepcially if shot from a helicopter's point of view and you see the militant rows of flats appear like camps. Maybe I am drifting but what this film with troublesome title (let's call it WTEOWIAS) has to contend with is how boring the background looks.

Never mind the graceful interpretations of everyday situations like family tensions and love, the cell-like confines of their places stands out as a fourth character. While the effort put into the choreography is palpable and it is even entertaining to see how little tensions at the dinner table like fighting for a chicken drumstick can be stylised, the cinematography does not always hit the right keys. Sometimes, it reinterprets the space in a surprising manner, sometimes it just looks like it is playing catch up with the choreography. There are also moments when the camera does not do much and the choreography takes centrestage and the movements are laid bare there, to delightfully comical effects.
In a way, the dancer's physical attributes contribute to the visual relief of the film. Quik Swee Boon, with his fine features and dramatically wavy mane makes him stand out from the grey confines of the flat. This is accompanied by the pristinely beautiful Xiao Jing, whose looks scream 'China Beauty'. It is also hard to forget the Chinese song that is serenaded over some entire dance sequences. Top of mind, it is haunting and evocative, but when it is juxtaposed against the longing face of Xiao Jing, I forget the character she plays and imagine her thinking about her real home in China especially when the camera zooms in on her gleamy eyes. In a way, she is a very displaced character who is trying to fit into the landscape and also the narrative of her being the father's new wife. But I would also see this extending to her personifying the general sense of displacement in the whole dramatic set-up of three unlikely family members coming together to share familiar moments.

7th Singapore Short Cuts - 'Baju' by Muhd Azhar Mohd Sjukor

'Baju' means clothing in Malay. But among the modern day Malay gangsters, it has come to mean something else - something that is still suggestive of having a layer over your body. And this is where the film has a subtle and quietly wise way of unveiling the specific meaning of the word in it context. It allows even non-Malay speaking viewers to appreciate the varied layers of the word 'Baju' without needing to define it clearly or specifically as a tattoo.

While it is easy to showcase raw, visceral energy in the world of gangs, it is less easy to offer an alternative angle that makes you see something poetic in the most barbaric of moments. In Baju, two men from rival gangs are enlisted into national service. Already the establishment of their rivalry and the slow build up of their hostile mutual glances makes it easy to guess what to expect next. In fact, when it cuts the shower room after the bottled-up tension in the hair-shaving scene, you somehow expect the cliche of the bathroom beat-up to happen. The fight did happen but it went off in a surprising track. It was graphic and the actors had to almost do it for real with little to hide due to the choice of a wide shot. Two belligerent (and completely nude) men wrestled on a wet toilet floor - somehow amounting to an accidental aesthetic.

While the film created a little visual niche for itself, it could put in more thought into the storytelling. Like many local gangster short films, it focussed on the muscle more than the mind - almost too keen to showcase a fight. It could use more context building and character development to add dimension to a largely linear presentation of brawn (and butt!). The grainy handphone videos of the gangs that opened the film was also a weak excuse for visual variation and seems independent of the film which could stand alone.

By the way, why is this film M18 when we could all see that part of the male anatomy?

7th Singapore Short Cuts - 'Nobody's Home' by Nelson Yeo

Nelson's taken a leap in his execution and vision with Nobody's Home. He's had a few short films going around between First Takes and other one-off screening events but none were confident in their execution as this one. The premise is an obvious long shot - Western genre in a HDB setting. What on earth does the HDB-scape have that is inspired heroism, courage, dare-devil acts and the swashbuckling spirit of a cowboy? What then appears at first glance to me is two Ah Bengs dealing with money under the table while drifting in and out of staircases and void decks. But on hindsight, I though it was quite ingenious of Nelson to reinterpret the Ah Beng into a cowboy parallel. Having said that, none of it would have been effective if not for its thoughtful and well-designed cinematography. Moving shots punctuated with appropriate pauses, clever play with spaces and a wise choice of Queenstown (the abandoned part) all added to its visual aesthetic.

In particular, a scene in which a strategically placed camera swings us to and fro between 2 different sections of a building stands out as a signature style of the film. It seems like a hybrid between an arthouse-type voyeurism and the makings of a thriller. In fact, all that furtive panning reminds me of Pen-ek’s ‘Invisible Waves’ – also a brilliant play on spaces. The main let-down about ‘Nobody’s Home’ is the fact that a thoughtful visual play is resting on a paper-thin plot and under-explained characters. In fact, seen through logical eyes, the Western spoof in a HDB settings make no sense and could only be the result of a whim to flesh out certain fantasies. But isn't a great film about 'transporting' the viewer and adding something new to the general cinematographic vocabulary?

7th Singapore Short Cuts - 'Hotel 66' by Anthony Chen

Jeremy: Hotel 66 finds its frequency in a kind of stagey naturalism. In an old creaky hotel fitted with dramatic wall paper and its corridor walls still in a shade of yesteryear's green, two situationally opposed characters cross paths - one is male prostitute who appears like a valued guest and one is pretty hotel staff who is asked to wear a security guard's uniform to avoid looking like a prostitute. Sounds like stage play doesn't it? At first glance, Anthony seems to have taken a step back after his more thought-provoking and daring pieces like Ah Ma and Haze. And by saying a step back, I don't mean the fact that he is opting for a classical style, I mean it feels like it's playing catch up with Wong Kar Wai of the early 2000s. I do admit feeling a little disappointed though the end product is still amazingly immaculate, like his previous works. I mean, for all the Wong Kar Wai wannabes in Singapore, I will give this film the prize for the best tribute film. Raymond: I know Alvin has a lot to say on this one, so let me just give the himbo's perspective k? I love Wong Kar Wai, and the Wong Kar Wai influences are all over this film. So naturally I'm going to be biased and say I love this one too. I love the production design, the mise-en-scene is amazing - from the hallway of the apartment block to the interior lighting and the wallpaper of the lead actor's apartment. And the two leads look ridiculously good. The tenant has a quiet charm to him; he's not overly brooding, and with the right amount of friendliness to come across as polite, as well as a restrained, enigmatic quality to him. The security girl has a freshness and innocence to her that seems so contrary to a security personnel, but it totally fits her character. Her face looks youthful and for lack of a better word - cute - and she's just adorable. Between the two I really can't decide who I like more lol. The whole film has a beautiful lushness to it, and while the director takes his time to build their relationship, it never gets boring at any one point in time.

Alvin: While similarities to the famous HK auteur’s works are hard to turn a blind eye to, I’d have to agree that Hotel 66 is a film that more than manages to hold its own, in originality or otherwise. There is to me, no other aspect that captures this more than the story arcs of the two main characters and the aplomb to which the actors pull it off. The male prostitute - in his suave, self-confident demeanour (looking so even when smoking beside a foul-smelling rubbish dump), and a hotel staff member in all her inquisitive but shy state - two cultural aliens poles apart in every way except in a longing need for companionship. Perhaps one of the film’s penultimate scenes wraps up this film best: both characters sit sheepishly in front of a TV set broadcasting a football match that would otherwise suit neither’s fancy. An awkward silence palpable even through the noisy blaring of the TV set ensues, before a wager serves to break the silence – a result that turns out inconsequential to either. Like what the man behind the aesthetic inspiration behind the film is famed for, Hotel 66 leaves an audience with a poignant take on its themes without feeling too contrived.

7th Singapore Short Cuts Weekend 2 - Experiments and Obssessions

The piece-de-resistance of the 7th Singapore Short Cuts was K Rajagopal's new piece 'Timeless'. Fronted on the publicity shot with Neo Swee Lin, it was certainly a crowd puller with full house attendance on Sunday. Quite surprisingly, for the strong line-up that was presented, his Q & A session was a little lacking in engine from the audience (save for poet Ng Yi-sheng who had some pretty big questions). Perhaps they didn't know what to ask. Perhaps they didn't know Raja and his works well enough previously. But for him, the National Museum's had the eye to do a retrospective finally.


Raja explains the lack of dialogue in his later films (which inadvertently helps explain for the lack of dialogue in many other local films we've seen)


Raja and why he 'wanted to be Chinese' in earlier days


Ng Yi-sheng poses his big question to Raja - 'How has filmmaking evolved since his pioneering days?'


'Filmmaking and Struggling' - the new buzz-phrase from fellow filmmaker Sun Koh

Curator Wenjie and Rajagopal

Raja gets his movie-star treatment here with a video interview after Short Cuts

Saturday's selection of directors made some truly daring experimental works
Seated from left (Warren Sin, Muhd Shukor, Daniel Hui, Vel Ng)

Look, your dads and uncles have no excuse not to support local films now.

SINdie's Weekend at 7th Short Cuts

There is just too much happening in town this month. Before we marvel at the yearly NDP fireworks again, the National Museum's Singapore Short Cuts is already taking to the stage, noticeably earlier than in previous years. All 7 of us at SINdie (minus Audi) had our first group outing to the the 7th Singapore Short Cuts. Here are some moments.

Warren Sin, Short Cuts Programmer 3 well-travelled filmmakers in the spotlight - Christopher Broe, Tan Shijie and Anthony Chen

SINdie on the screen - from left (Grace, Raymond, Alvin, Colin, Jeremy, Darren and Melody)

We are always open to suggestions and anything under the singapore independent film umbrella

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Sunday's batch of directors were a more casual and entertaining lot, thanks to their student or fresh grad status - from left (Jow Zhi Wei, Kimberly Leng, Wesley Leon Aroozoo, Nelson Teo, Henry and Harry Zhuang)

Something to take home for thought here... On Sunday, a very engaged and animated member of the audience basically hogged the mike to ask the filmmakers some burning questions. His brashness and devil-may-care courage drew some laughs but made many of us sit up. He drew attention to the a commonly observed fact in Singapore films made by the younger generation.