The Emotional Tour

Yan Kong Lee, 48 was born to a small-time businessman and his rubber-tapping wife in the early 1960’s in a very small village in Kulai, Johor. At the age of nine, his father passed away and his rough village childhood became even harder. Making less than two ringgit a day, his mother struggled to feed and clothe her two children and herself and so two years later he moved to the small town of Kuala Terengganu with his grown-up half-sister. Now, more than thirty years later he has overcome the obstacles of his childhood and is making a fair living teaching English full time, and Taekwondo part time. This is the story that he always tells us, his children, whenever we complain about some minor, trivial displeasure we are facing; the moral of the story being, he had it much harder.

I chose to profile my father for this assignment because apart from the fact that I already knew parts of his stories well, he was also an outsider to Kuala Lumpur and yet throughout his life from his teens up till now, he has frequented KL and I felt that this sort of rather detached experiences of KL would be fascinating. He first came to Kuala Lumpur in 1976 for academic purposes; to interview at the Royal Military College to further his studies. In the subsequent years of the late 70’s and the early 80’s, he was to come to KL more and more frequently for he was then a star athlete in Taekwondo and was actively participating in tournaments throughout the country.

Though his interview at the RMC was not a success, he came to associate KL with the feeling of glory and victory for he was passionate and skilled about Taekwondo and most importantly, a success. He told me that every time he came to KL, he would come with “great excitement because there was a feeling that anything could happen”. I understood exactly what he meant because more than two decades after he first came to KL, I would be making my way here myself and seeing for the first time the endless rush of traffic and the massive amounts of people making their way briskly in and out of skyscraping buildings, you do feel excited; there is a possibility of anything happening. It must have been even more exciting then because KL in the 80’s was still a young city that was growing rapidly and the atmosphere must have been buzzing. My father brought me to the old Stadium Negara where many of the tournaments he participated in and won were held. It is easy to imagine my father as a young man in this stadium with all eyes on him and people cheering him on, an experience he said he would not likely find in the small town of Kuala Terengganu.

Later, when he began dating my mother, the both of them would come to KL for short trips of 2 or 3 days. During this period, my father thought of KL as the perfect place to just “get lost in the vastness” and to “get away from everything back home”. “Everything” referred to the disapproving parents of my mother and the gossip of their schoolmates. Here in the vast city, there was no need for curfews and secret hand-holding. They could be the giddy, young lovers that they were. He brought me to Sungei Wang because it was the place he and my mother came to most often during the early days of their relationship. It was “the shopping mall”, the place where “all the youngsters went to at that time”. Personally, I find the Sungei Wang of today a loud mix of the bold, the garish and the tacky but I can still see why people outside of KL would find it “very big-city, very KL”, especially back in the times of my parents when it was practically the only mall of its kind.

As an adult, my father parlayed his talent and passion in Taekwondo into a career by instructing children in schools around Terengganu and in his own martial arts center. By the late 1990’s, he has already had considerable success and was even appointed Secretary of the Malaysian Taekwondo Association (MTA) and Chairman of its juniors’ division. I remembered that we rarely saw him around the house because he was always so busy. If he wasn’t in Terengganu, he would fly down to KL for MTA affairs. However, the zest with which he regarded KL soon disappeared when Taekwondo took over his entire life. It was later replaced with disillusionment as he realized that it was getting increasingly political in MTA. Everyone was nice to your face but they all had a hidden agenda and wouldn’t think twice about double-crossing you. I asked him if he thought the heavy politicking he experienced in MTA is reflective of the overall politics of Malaysia today and he told me that “anytime there are positions of power involved here, there are bound to be shady people and dirty tricks. It is certainly not limited to KL, but you hear more such stories here because it is the administration central of the country.”

My father left before the disorganization and corruption at MTA turned it into a total mess and they have now been suspended by the Sports Ministry, replaced by the Malaysian Taekwondo Federation that came about a few years ago, of which he is a treasurer. He brought me to Bukit Jalil where their proceedings usually take place and where he can be found every 2 or 3 weeks. It was a place he used to detest as it represented to him the unrest that plagued him during his turbulent times in MTA. He still has his duties and Taekwondo is still a part of his life but it has taken a back seat. He is now concentrating his efforts on his schoolchildren and his tuition center. Every time he visits me in KL, he would tell me that he can never imagine living here. I asked him why and he told me he is already “much too used to the laid-back lifestyle” he and my mother enjoys in Kuala Terengganu and most importantly, he “absolutely can’t stand the traffic jams”.

Our Burmese Days

This documentary is an attempt by the director, Lindsey Merrison to explore the roots of Sally and Bill, her mother and uncle respectively. Sally is Burmese but her daughter never found out about her roots until adulthood because Sally never revealed or talked about her origins and her ethnicity. She always maintained that she was from Hempstead in London; even speaking with a solid English accent.

With this film, the director brings her mother and her uncle back to Myanmar in order to explore their pasts, their heritage and exactly why Sally is so ashamed to admit that she comes from Myanmar. For Bill, the trip was poignant as he reminisces about the times they spent in Myanmar but Sally on the other hand seemed pained to relive all her memories of Myanmar.

The only aspects at which the film succeeds are showing how the people of rural Myanmar live from a very raw and real point of view as well as showing the audiences a bit of Myanmar’s past. But in trying to achieve a documentary that is free of glossiness and a general feeling of an outsider’s point of view, Merrison’s film has fallen flat. It is dull, detached and frankly, very self-conceited. There are plenty of shots and moments in the film that felt to me, out of place and very unnecessary; as if inserted solely to show audiences how smart or sharp or sentimental a director Merrison truly is. Like a classroom full of students who believe that asking mundane and/or inane questions will lead the lecturer to think that they are intelligent, Merrison seems to think that lingering shots of nothing in particular or lengthy monologues and conversations about dull subjects will trick audiences into thinking that she is indeed a “Serious” filmmaker delving into “Serious” issues.

It also doesn’t help matters that Sally, the subject of the documentary is so thoroughly unlikable. Her cold English manner, her refusal to open up to her daughter and her shame in her heritage – which the documentary doesn’t justify – is just off-putting. There were moments that showed her tender side but they were rare and far between.

Merrison also inserted images of war into the film as well as hinted at the politics of Myanmar but there are no deeper, profound follow-ups into either. It feels as though she is trying to do too much but at the same time saying far too little. Like the saying goes, the Jack of all trades is a master of none.

Persepolis

‘Persepolis’ was really an eye-opener that showed how culture can differ so vastly from one place to another, from what people are allowed to wear or say to how the authorities govern the people. Living in the Malaysia’s biggest city in the 21st century, it is difficult to envision the struggles and restrictions faced by the Iranians during the wars and unrest of the 80’s but this animated feature spelled it out clear and simple. Malaysia itself consists of a very large Muslim population yet the Islamic republic portrayed in the movie is so shockingly different from anything we have ever experienced.

The thing that struck me the most was the oppression that the people faced, made all the worse by the short-lived euphoria they felt when the Shah was overthrown. They thought that things would get better but instead the opposite happened. Before, during the Shah’s reign, the administration was flawed but the negative impacts were not so strongly felt by the people. After the Shah though, the people were heavily oppressed. There was no freedom. They needed to mind everything they do or say for fear of being prosecuted by the new government. All things related to Western culture were forbidden; even Michael Jackson, who was arguably non-controversial, was banned. Because the protagonist, Marji was female, the oppression of females was featured even more prominently in the movie. A few millimeters of exposed hair would earn you the label of ‘slut’. Restrictions such as these makes Malaysia seems liberal and rich with choices in comparison.

The severity of life in Iran was contrasted even further with cultures outside of Iran when Marji goes overseas to study and to escape what her parents thought would be a harsh future for an outspoken young woman like her. Overseas in Vienna, she made acquaintances with a bunch of misfits of the punk-rocker variety. Like many youths who affect an attitude of cynicism, these posers are happy to wax philosophical about things they have never even experienced such as wars and political strife while ensconced in the comfort of a private school. They complain about the rich while using Daddy’s money to fund their excessive lifestyles. Marji strives to fit in but she knows she is different because unlike them, her desire to rebel is motivated by something real, not merely an affectation to look cool.

Upon returning to her home country, the situation in Iran seemed even more ludicrous after her brief exposure to the liberal culture of the West. Policemen chided her for running because eyes would be drawn to her bottom while men stare at her as though she is a prostitute just because she had on make-up. However, the Marji who returned from Vienna is changed and rebels in many different little ways. She shouts at the policemen who scolded her. She goes to underground parties where the risks are high if one gets caught. At an art class in university, she expresses her frustration when they are unable to learn or draw anything.

Apart from Marji the protagonist, the most memorable character and my favorite was her grandmother. Even Marji, at her lowest and most troubled moments, still thought of her grandmother and the advice she gave her which is to always be true to herself. She was also brutally honest. After Marji returned from Vienna, she tried her hardest to get her to live again, instead of just lying all day on the couch. She also scolded Marji severely when she did something very mean which she thought was very clever. But most of all, she is memorable for her strength and the way she stood up to the oppression they faced. For example, when Marji became so accustomed to wearing the headscarf that she even forgot to take it off indoors, her grandmother gets quietly angry and reminds Marji to never let fear becomes so restrictive until it becomes part of oneself.

Cadangan-cadangan Untuk Negaraku

Liew Kung Yu’s “Cadangan-cadangan Untuk Negaraku” [Proposals for My Country] is a collection of four large photo collages. The collages are all loud, colorful and layered to look like a gigantic children’s pop-up book. To create the collages, Liew Kung Yu traveled throughout the country taking pictures of sculptures, monuments, buildings and decorations and then putting them together in a whimsical, exaggerated way.

Doing this, Liew Kung Yu is highlighting the buildings, monuments, motifs and design elements that can easily be found all over the country, some of which are sources of national pride and identity such as the Twin Towers, the national car and the national mosque.

In a way, it is as though Liew Kung Yu is trying to make sense of how all these buildings and sculptures came about and to establish a connection on how they relate to us, the people who live with and make use of them.

Also, using design elements that are so readily found right here in our present, Liew Kung Yu seems to be constructing an exaggerated vision of what the future of Malaysia might look like. And if it looks like what he created in his collages, then the future would have an air of ludicrousness about it because in his work, all the images used would be familiar to the average Malaysian yet the overall picture doesn’t make much sense.

Perhaps this is what Liew Kung Yu is trying to address in his works; that the authorities who commissioned these buildings, sculptures and monuments might find them beautiful but not everyone will agree with them, therefore creating a distance or a sense of detachment between the people and the spaces in which they live. This sense of detachment is caused perhaps when the people cannot make sense of the design elements. Some elements such as the bunga raya, batik and distinctly Malaysian animals can be easily identified with but a lot of the other elements might not fit in with the context of local culture.

When this feeling of detachment sets in, the people wouldn’t be able to develop a sense of home or nation towards their own country. Maybe that is why a couple of the collages in this series are depicted like amusement / theme parks. This suggests temporariness as though we just paid an entrance fee and coming for a visit instead of actually living here, which is how people feel when they have no sense of roots in their home town or country.

As mentioned in Anthony Milner’s essay on nation-building, different narratives exist because they are trying to reach different segments of the people and also because every different narrative is trying to achieve a specific purpose. Therefore, Liew’s views on the state of architecture in Malaysia might not be universally shared by everyone but it is safe to say that what he is offering is a different, alternative view of Malaysia as envisioned by the government and his purpose is to open up the eyes of an increasingly disinterested community to their surroundings.

The Big Durian

Q1
From ‘The Big Durian’, the scene that made the strongest impression on me was the scene where the director/narrator interviewed a young girl about the countries she has visited and how they compare to Malaysia. She said the other countries were all great but when asked if she would migrate to another country, she said she still preferred Malaysia. First, this scene stands out because it is funny, especially when she tells us what she likes about Italy. But this scene was also memorable because of how real her sentiments were and how they reflected those of many youths in Malaysia. While Malaysia has its fair share of faults and flaws, many would still prefer their home country over someone else’s.

Q2
It is rumoured that Private Adam ran amok because his younger brother was allegedly murdered by a sultan but because of the sultan being who he is, no action was taken when Private Adam tried to bring the case to justice.

Q3
The character from Sabah noted that Private Adam looked free, like he had just been released from a cage. It contrasted deeply with her own feelings because she feels that her life in KL is like being trapped in a cage.

Q4
The director is looking back at the events of 1987 through today’s point of view, or specifically 2003, when the film was made. Therefore, the ‘present’ of the film would be in 2003. The tone that the director takes is a curious one; as in he is curious about the events that happened in his teens and up to a point, remain unexplained. He uses the film to dig deeper into the political events of the 80’s and 90’s such as the case of Private Adam, why it so easily incited fears of racial strife and riots and how it is related to the 19 ISA detainees and also the political climate of years to come. However, the film ends on a rather hopeful note in which the director conveyed a sense of hope that Malaysia might find its political footing soon and get past whatever strife holding it back.