MaMa Mia!

Today, I had reason to go MamaMia!, twice.

In quick succession.

Firstly, over dinner with my Mother at my Granny's where my Aunties whipped up a somewhat belated Birthday dinner for me, I found out that The Woman (not Amah or any of my Aged Aunts obviously) has been dating! Mummy didn't tell me herself though. It was only after she hurriedly excused herself from dessert and scooted off, uncharacteristically early, that my 'Spies' (Amah and my Aged Aunts obviously) informed me. I nearly choked on my Orr Nee.

And as I write this, on the bed of a sleeping friend with whom I am bunking in over for the night, the thought of Mummy having someone else Special in her life ironically scandalizes the flyingmuffyn out of me. I think I need the next week or so to gather my thoughts and let it all sink in. MamaMia!, it will be a cold day in Hell before I call someone else Dad!

On a another Motherly note, we went to catch MamaMia! The Movie after makan. And boy was it a welcomed distraction from the stunning revelation that was dinner. The show is a silver-screen adaption of the hit 2001 Broadway Musical of the same name that has a storyline wrapped around ABBA songs. And this time, Director Phyllida Lloyd has lined up a star-studded cast headed by veterans Meryl Streep, Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth and immensely watchable newbies Amanda Seyfried and Dominic Cooper.



I'll leave you guys to go google the plot (nothing high-brow and super sweet) but I must say that apart from the subtitled lyrics coming on whenever the songs started to be sung, like Karaoke, and having Mr Pierce 'Remington Steele' Brosnan croak like a toad going through tonsil therapy whilst singing in his real voice, MamaMia! turned on the Camp-factor so high it was so fun.

So I end this, a tale of 2 MamaMia's.

One of Swedish Nostalgia. The other of near Hysteria.

Kids With Cameras

I am just done with a DVD I picked up this afternoon.

Its called Born Into Brothels. And before you guys think its something seedy, this Academy Award-winning documentary tracks the lives of 8 children whose mothers are all prostitutes at a Red Light District in Calcutta. It tells the story of how New York-based photographer Zana Briski, who first arrives in India to get a snapshot of the lives of its sex-workers, ends up running a Photography class for the children who live right smack in the middle of such debauchery and despair.

The kids are given a film-loaded Point and Shoot each. And told to tell their story through the lens. With amazing results. From weekly photo shoots and sit-down sessions, fine-tuning what they see, how they compose, asking questions on why some shots work and why some do not and guiding them into looking at their own pictures critically, Zana uses the art of photography to rehabilitate and restore. And slowly, the children nurture a sense of self-belief and worth.

Zana has travelled the world, taking the best of what the children have shot, and turning the pictures into a traveling exhibition of sorts. The photographs have also been compiled into a book. Naturally, all profits go back to the children, for their education. Something their mothers can never hope to do or earn in a lifetime.

As I look at many of the photographs the kids have shot on their cheap cameras, I cannot help but feel both admiration and shame. I admire the children because, in spite of such immense deprivation, they have managed to communicate the very essence of their sad existence through their pictures. And I am ashamed because, in spite of me having access to an expensive DSLR, my images don't even come close to connecting on such an emotional level.

I'll let their pictures speak for themselves.

Words In A Bucket

I've finally watched the Bucket List.

On DVD. After talking about it since it first started its run in the cinemas some months ago. I normally don't care too much for shows about death. Its a little morbid ya. But the draw of Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman in the same movie was enough to make many cinema-goers, and delayed-response viewers on DVD like me, perhaps pay good money to watch two old farts conjure up a list of things to do before kicking the bucket. And executing it.

The theme is not new. Deep down inside, there are a couple (maybe more) of things that we want to do before we go see Big Daddy in the Sky. But somehow, we don't make a conscious effort to write the stuff down or even dwell on it at length. Why? Simply because we all want to believe that we've got some (lots of) time left before we go. And really, how many of us would want to ponder the possibility of dying? Its something distant, something faraway.

Watching Cole (Nicholson) and Carter (Freeman) Lear-jet themselves around the world doing stuff most of us mere mortals can only dream of makes me think about what I would like to have in my own Bucket List if I was told I had but 6 months to live. Would it be an Epicurean Adventure of sorts? Or would I be scared shitless, embroiled in a mad-dash to find my god?

You know, I wish it would be as easy as using my last days to say things to people I really care about. Things that would be liberated once the imminence of Death comes knocking.

But I also wonder why, without the fear of dying, we find it so hard to say things to the people we love sometimes.

Do we need death to close one door and yet open another?

Unkers@TheMovies - Ironman

Move over Clarke Kent and Peter Parker.

Badboy Tony is in town. And he's here to kick some ass.



Ironman worked for me. Equal parts gizmo SFX, brains, action and a tinge of romance. In other words, something to please everybody, even if you've never touched the Marvel Comic and thought the show was about an Urban Blacksmith.

Robert Downey Junior's Ironman is heartfelt and beneath the hot-rod red and yellow alloy armour, believable as a multi-billionaire on course for Nirvana after a stint in an Afghan cave-prison.

Easily one of 2008's best films. And coolest too.

8.5/10

Cow-ture

It was pretty much an eye-opening weekend at the Theatre and Movies for me. A touch of Cow-ture, like what some friends of mine say in jest.

On Friday, I went to catch Ng Khee Jin's Feet Unbound at the Picturehouse. He's a Singaporean Chinese director based in Perth.



Shot documentary-style, Feet Unbound re-visits the much mythologised Long March by the Red Army in China between 1934 and 1937. In particular, Khee Jin focusses on the survivors from the Lady's Regiment within the Red Army through the eyes of a real-life Beijing journalist called Elly. Very few survivors have lived to tell the tale as it was one of the longest and largest mobilizations in human history. Barely 30,000 of the 200,000 soldiers who joined the Long March survived to the end.

Surrounded by Kuomintang troops of Generalissimo Chiang Kai Shek, the Red Army abandoned base camps in central China and split into two to retreat to Shaanxi in the north and Xinjang in the west. During the arduous and hasty retreat, the Western Front army was almost completely annihilated by a Muslim warlord, General Mu of Qinghai, an ally of the Kuomintang. But a handful survived, among them women.

Khee Jin managed to track down six of these survivors, visibly very tough old ladies, some of them in their eighties and nineties, to listen to their version of events. His documentary traces the tragic fate of these old women in a military fiasco rarely recounted in Chinese history.

I loved it. Not only for the stunning vistas of the Tibetan Plateau and rugged beauty of Sichuan province where most of the movie was shot. But also because the film made me delve deeper into Communism in China and appreciate why China would never give up its claim on Kuomintang- ruled Taiwan. More so when you consider what early Communist Party pioneers like Mao Zedong had to go through to secure Socialist glory for the 'Capitalist-infested' Motherland.



And then it was off to the theatre yesterday. To catch TNT Theatre Britain's interpretation of Hamlet.



TNT's version is perhaps a little unique because it takes inspiration from the 1st Quato, an early edition of the Master's works, and so is significantly much shorter (about 2.5 hours). The folio edition of Hamlet can run on stage for 4-5 hours!

Some scholastic quarters believe that the 1st Quato was what Shakespeare had in mind for the stage. And perhaps the only version he ever saw physically being acted out.

Overall a very, very sterling performance from the cast and crew of the TNT. Hamlet was not over-interpreted to the point of it becoming ridiculous. In fact, for Shakespeare, I think the Brit actors still do it best. Its like, well, in their gene pool to be able to rattle off in the typical Shakespearean way.

Unkers@TheMovies - The Kite-Runner, 27 Dresses, KungFu Dunk, Sweeney Todd

A week at the movies for me. I don't think I've ever done 4 shows in 6 days before. Like some film critic like that.

Anyway I shan't give a lengthy discourse on the merits and demerits of each film. Just a few words to justify my own rating.


The first, was also the best of the lot for me. Although I didn't finish the book, I think the Big-Screen version managed to pull off the magic and emotion Khaled Hosseini intended for his audience. Afghans should be proud. 8.5/10.


Katherine Hiegl has a double chin but she oozes poise and class in some of the Little Black Dresses she parades in this movie, ironically, about Bridesmaid dresses and finding your own happiness. Entertaining, but largely cliched and forgettable. 7/10.


I am a Jay Chou fan and so it pains me to say that this show sucked. Even stepping in before with full expectations that it was going to be a CGI-ed flick of slapstick proportions. But you have to hand it to Prince Mumbly, at least he acts with sincerity and an unaffected coolness a few can replicate. And oh yes, veteran Eric Tsang sort of saves the show with his impeccable comic timing and high-pitched Eunuch voice. 6/10.


The Demon Barber of Fleet Street put me to sleep halfway through the movie with his incessant singing. Yes so Johnny Depp can warble, surprise surprise, but not at every turn and at every opportunity to emote, surely! The dark and macabre of Depp-Burton collaborations take on very bloody proportions this time but even then, the slitting of throats and gushing of haemoglobin got a little tired after awhile. Think Edward Scissorhands with sharp, jugular-slicing, razors. 7/10.

So there! Later today, it will be off to the Esplanade for a change. Shanghai Blues, a musical put up as part of the Huayi Chinese Festival of Arts here in Singapore.

A nice way to end my week at the Performing Arts.

Kundun

What was supposed to be a quiet evening, after dinner, relaxing with Martin Scorsese's 1997 epic, triggered a 3 hour Internet research exercise on the history of Tibet and the man they call Kundun in the Lhasa Dialect, His Holiness, the Dalai Lama.



Invaded and occupied by Motherland China who claimed Tibet as her own in 1951, Kundun fled to Dharamsala, India in 1959, where he heads the Tibetan Government In Exile and the thousands that make up the Tibetan Diaspora, till today.

The film is beautifully shot, with scenery and colors so breathtaking you forget that most of the stuff was done in the mountains of Morocco. China would never have allowed Scorsese do shoot something like this in Tibet and I think the auteur is still banned from the Motherland for daring to glorify the Dalai Lama on the big screen. Kundun never made it big at the box-office. But most critics agree it is one of Scorsese's greatest works. Visually stunning, emotionally moving.

Watching it made me feel alittle ashamed about being Chinese though. And I can only imagine how the Dalai Lama must be feeling, seeing his country's rich Buddhist traditions and culture, diluted with each passing day by atheist Communist ideology and indoctrination. Watching his very magnificent Potala Palace turned into a Tourist Museum. And his people displaced by the ever increasing Han Chinese who have all but taken up Permanent Residency in the capital Lhasa.

The 14th Reincarnation of the Compassionate Buddha and Nobel Peace Prize-winning Laureate is facing a mighty juggernaut unprecedented in the whole of Tibetan history. And the juggernaut is here to stay. Sometimes I feel that the world has forgotten its roof. The impending US recession, the Middle-East conflict, natural disasters, and the fact that we are in the process of selecting a new Global Big Brother (Obama being my choice but who cares?), means that the call for the return of full Tibetan independence has been placed on the back-burner again. And with China flexing its economic and military muscles on the world stage, I'm not even sure Kundun will see true freedom in his lifetime.

But I don't think His Holiness is particularly bothered by it. Because according to the concept of Re-birth, the 15th Reincarnation would simply carry on his good work. There is a peace and genteel humility about the man. As epitomised by the final lines in the film when Kundun is asked by an Indian Border Guard, May I ask, are you the Lord Buddha?

To which he replies, I think that I am a reflection, like the moon on water. When you see me, and I try to be a good man, you see yourself .

Lovely.

Unkers@TheMovies - Eastern Promises

We stumbled on this inadvertantly.

I mean with a movie title like Eastern Promises, who's to know it isn't some arty-farty Zhang Yimou flick of undying love. The plan was to catch the latest Adrien Brody vehicle and Venice Film Festival darling, Darjeeling Limited, about 3 brothers' train-trip through India where they have to deal with their emotional baggage as well as metaphorical physical baggage whilst culture-shocking themselves. But since tickets were all but sold out on a Saturday evening, it was a welcomed surprise to turn to a gun-metal slick Russian Mob-fest instead.



Confession. I have never been a fan of Mob movies. Hell I can't remember anything from The Godfather. And when the American Gangster trailer played out in all its full Denzel Washington/Russel Crowe glory just now, I stifled a yawn. But faced with the prospect of Alvin & The Chipmunks, we thought Viggo Mortenson and Naomi Watts, together with Stylish-Violence Specialist, Director David Cronenberg, would make a better bet. And we were right.

Mortenson was a revelation! If you remember, he's Aragorn from LOTR. And in Promises, he has found a new Arwen in the very very delectable and classy Naomi Watts. Well, I had a crush on Watts when she had a crush on that big ape Kong not too long ago.

The now short, slicked-haired Viggo plays Nikolai, Russian driver and 'undertaker' to a Russian Mob boss' homosexual son Kirill (french actor VIncent Casell). Kirill's papa, Semyon (Armin Mueller Stahl) is chief mob-ster of the powerful Vory and runs the Trans-Siberia Restaurant as a front for under-age prostitution, contraband smuggling and cut-throat assasinations. When a teenage Russian hooker dies at childbirth in Trafalgar Hospital where Anna (Naomi Watts) works, she uncovers the girl's diary which leads up the dark and dangerous path to Semyon's Vory and an inevitable romantic entanglement with Nikolai.

Believe me, you will want to watch this more than once just for Mortenson. He really makes Promises his own. Cronenberg is known for his complex exploration of the human psyche and in Nikolai, this is as 3-dimensional as it gets. Expect plenty of blood and gore though. And of course, the much talked about Russian Baths scene where Nikolai fights off 2 killers from the Chechen Vory, completely naked. Yes girls, Aragorn in the buff!

The show is 140mins long. The pace is super-tight. And there is hardly a wrong turn or dull moment in its own unassuming yet 'tastefully' hellacious way. You get realistic insights into the Russian Mafia too. Like how 2 eight-pointed stars tattooed on your chest, above the heart, means you've earned the right to join the happy 'family'.

Watch out American Gangsters, the Russkies are in town.

8/10

Wanna Die?

Forgive me as I try to review a movie I have watched 6 years too late.

Even more so, when I am a little tipsy from a 6-pack of beer. Although I am seriously contemplating driving out to get myself some Shochu. In the spirit of this fantastic 2001 Korean love story I suppose.



I won't give you a lengthy discourse on its merits though. Suffice to say that three things became apparent to me as I oogled the lovely, and I mean lovely, Jun Ji-Hyun strut her sassy (some say bizarre) stuff that made the world fall in love with her. For those of you who have caught the movie way before me, you will perhaps have an inkling of what I mean.

Firstly, you can never get rid of memories of a lost love. Closure sometimes eludes you forever. Often, looking for and finding the traits of that lost love in another person is, in equal parts, both blissful and bitter. It takes courage to walk away and reflect. And the concept of fate in reel life always supercedes our expectations in real life. If only destiny were that conveniently fulfilled and glossed over.

In the movie, the words 'Wanna Die?' when mutterd by that Sassy Girl to her cute boyfriend actually bizzarely means 'I Love You'. Such poignant hilarity (for lack of a better oxymoron) shows us how sometimes, we all hide behind our fiesty facades of violent contentment.

Why, I don't know.

Unkers@TheMovies - Lust, Caution

As I sit here, having just returned from the movies, I'm finding it a little difficult to churn out a decent review of Ang Lee's latest tale of Erotic Espionage, adapted from a novella by Eileen Chang.

Mesmerized by the beauty of Lee's textured story-telling, the romantic views of late 1930s Shanghai, and his very, very sensuous leading lady, Tang Wei, I still have random, recurring images of the seductive story in my mind, making the task of weaving the visual tapestry together into coherent sentences quite impossible.

But try I must.



Like a subjective work of art, Lust, Caution has received mixed reviews from critics the world over. Some of whom are still pretty hung up on Lee's 2006 Oscar-winning Brokeback Mountain. Unfortunately, the movie has generated alot of buzz simply because of its supposedly gratuitous sex scenes. Something my fellow Asian audiences would be disappointed to know, is severely lacking in the cut meant for local consumption. Indeed I was told that Lee personally made the snips to appease the Conservative Bigwigs, so that the version I saw today was really, technically speaking, 98% Caution and 2% Lust. And no, you do not get to see Tony Leung's butt-cheeks or Tang Wei's tits.

So with the Sex out of the way, lets get down to the crux of the story.

Set in WWII Shanghai, Lust, Caution is really about finding one's true Self. The underground Chinese resistance against Japanese Occupation just serves as a poignant backdrop for a tale of 2 people finally coming to terms with who they really are and their sexuality. Those tumultous days, ironically, made it easier for inner feelings to be exposed and hidden desires, manifested. If you were with the right person that is.

Tang Wei plays Wong, an anonymous Chinese undergraduate who unexpectedly finds herself recruited into a clandestine student uprising against fellow countrymen who have become collaborators with the enemy. The most powerful of the new Japanese lackeys is Yee, played by the increasingly gaunt Tong Leung. The man is not a classic pretty boy per se but one helluva good actor. Wong soon transforms, from relative student obscurity, to a mahjong-playing, high-class Shanghainese tai-tai, and manages to penetrate the fortress that the extremely cautious and wary Yee, now head of the Secret Police, has built around himself. And also where he routinely brings his fellow countrymen for torture, interrogation and almost certain death. The plan was to seduce Yee into bringing his guard down, long enough for the Resistance to kill him.

Through a heady cocktail of clever seduction, believable innocence and a killer bod in stylish Cheongsams even Vera Wang would be proud of, Wong manages to trap Yee into her web of patriotic deceit. She plays the role of the tai-tai only too well and soon finds herself invariably caught up in the euphoria of acceptance and romantic recognition when Yee can't enough of her. In his eyes, she is a somebody, spy-actress or otherwise. And this somehow gives Wong new meaning in life. Yee, on the other hand, finds in her, a release from his latent guilt as Consummate Betrayer and uses the torrid sex he has with the young, comely tai-tai to remind himself of his fast eroding humanity. Their love-making is very passionate and intense, even sadomasochistic, perhaps reflecting the flames of war that surrounds them. And would eventually engulf them.

Joan Chen and Lee Hom put in credible performances as Yee's Mahjong-addicted wife and Resistance Leader respectively but the true accolades must surely go to newcomer Tang Wei who at once, keeps us spell-bound with both her girlish vulnerability and chic-conniving ability. Its hard to describe, the peaceful gravitas she exudes onscreen with those almond-shaped eyes, porcelain skin and perfect poise. But one thing's for sure, this 20-something will go far.

However, more emphasis on the oppression during the time and the resistance movement created to fight it could have been better explored and woven into the plot. Surely a movie spanning nearly two and a half hours could indulge us in this little piece of ugly history.

But at the end of the day, excellent stuff. And highly reccomended if you're in the mood for love, not lust.

8/10

Unkers@TheMovies - The Bourne Ultimatum

Simon Templer, James Bond, Jason Bourne.

What do they have in common? Nothing really except that Roger Moore played both The Saint and that MI6 spy with the license to thrill. Plus the cheeky cheater would be utterly unbelievable as a CIA-trained super-killer if he was ever asked to do a Bourne instalment =))



Anyway Matt Damon is another kettle of fish altogether. Dark, intense, and grittingly sexy in his own way, he returns again as the babyfaced Amnesiac-Assassin bent on remembering his past. Only this time he faces the mighty Black-Ops behemoth of his former Langley bosses. Who incidentally have a couple of super-killers up their sleeves themselves.

And oh what a ride it is.

Even though 5 mins into the movie, you will be desperately trying to remember where Supremacy, and Identity before that, left off. But don't worry, Bourne has enough on-screen flashbacks in that forgetful memory of his to re-jig your own...errr..memory =)) That should bring you up to speed as the movie zips along while you follow dear Jason from Moscow to Turin, Tangier to Latvia. All very exotic. Makes you want to go on holiday, sans the guns.

You know with a movie like this, one really gets a glimpse into the inner 'shenanigans' of the CIA. The uglier side of the agency as it were. Erm, the 'License To Kill Anyone' side. Black Operations. And believe you me, its real man. At least I think so. Its just that a successful black operation has yet to be achieved with Osama bin Laden =)) Then again the Americans' obsession with that Terrorist Sheik is so open its anything but covert anymore.

But I digress =))

The Bourne Ultimatum is in essence, a thriller through and through. And like its 2 predecessors, it shows the human-side of a man expertly and intelligently honed in the Art of Kill. And get away with it to boot. In this last instalment, Jason gets the help and sympathy of a couple of CIA agents who realise that, perhaps, Black is not always cool. Also the last car chase is so visceral, I can only imagine what it would look like in 3-D IMAX.

Kickass extreme. Thanks to Moby too.

8/10

Unkers@TheMovies - Secret

For Jay Chou's directorial debut, I say Secret was a success. I mean its not Francis Ford Coppola or Spielberg or Zhang Yimou or Quentin Tarantino kind of superduper but good nonetheless. Very commendable.

Jay stuck with what he is good at, Piano and Puppy-Love. Two ingredients that would surely get his legions of female fans all signing up for Ivory Lessons at Yamaha in a jiffy. As for the males, I think he got us all, hook-line-and-sinker, with Taiwanese SYT-heartthrob Kwai Lun Mei. She's a hottie, a cute pixiefied-hottie, not the Megan Denise Fox kinda sultry smokin'-Hottie if you know what I mean.



Well I have new-found respect for Prince Mumbly who also does an admirable job playing one of the leads (although no Golden Horse is in sight anytime soon I reckon). He has significantly improved from his days as a Tofu-racer in Initial-D and playing that constipated Prince Jai in Curse of The Golden Flower. And I am not saying this just because I'm totally and absolutely enamoured with Ms Kwai who plays Xiao Yu (Rain), his excrutiatingly adorable tom-boy love interest (its a mutual thing lah).

The plot starts off as a schoolboy-schoolgirl love story, a nice kewtsy one that makes you feel warm all over. Not overly diabetes-inducing. And then takes on a novel twist two-thirds into the show. I mean you suspect something is amiss from the beginning as there are subtle hints here and there but when you finally realise what the clincher is, you grin to yourself as you realise how skilfully Jay has crafted the meanderings into the plot. Very old-skool romantic...Sigh...

And for Chopin fans, wow wow weeee....You get to hear more than a couple of his keyboard-defying, flying-finger pieces. The Maestro's Piano Concertos and Waltzes take the limelight in this movie. And if Jay was the one who really tinkled the ivories with such Competition Finesse, then my hat is well and truly taken off.

In the end, Secret's message is that true love cannot be eroded by the tides of time. You never know when you will find The One. But when you do, even the prospect of a Wrecking Ball coming straight at you won't stop you from seeing the one you adore.

You guys will get the Ball reference when you catch the movie =))

Xiao Yu wo ai ni =P

8/10

Unkers @ The Movies - 881

In China, we have Zhang Yimou, Chen Kaige and Feng Xiaogang. Likewise, in the fledging but miniature Singapore film-scene, we have Eric Khoo, Jack Neo and Royston Tan.

And like their Chinese counterparts, each brings his own style and unique substance to the film he makes. Jack explores family values and typical Singaporean traits, Eric dabbles in pseudo-arthouse flicks often with unusual protagonists. And Royston, well he's just obsessed with digits (15, 4:30, 881) =)) Well you can tell he's a talented Ah Beng since Gangsters and Getai seem to be his thang nowadays.



Anyway I caught the Temasek Polytechnic graduate's latest offering, 881, today at GV Grand. Its called 881 because the Mandarin pronunciation, pa pa yao, sounds like Papaya. Which incidentally is the stage-name of the Papaya Sisters, 2 sexy Ah Lians played by Mindee Ong and Yeo Yann Yann, who find fame (but unfortunately not fortune) working the Getai circuit during the 7th Month Hungry Ghost Festivities.

OK so if you're one of Unkster's international ang mo browsers and do not know what the hell I am talking about, go google Getai, 7th Month, Hungry Ghost, Ah Lian, Ah Beng, Ah Pek..etc...I have no time to explain =))

Little Papaya (Mindee) and Big Papaya (Yann Yann) grow up idolizing Chen Jin Lang, the King of Hokkien Getai, and dream of becoming Getai singers themselves. Their heart wrenching story is related by their introspective but highly sensitive friend and driver, Guan Yin (played by the very delectable Qi Yiwu) who also happens to be dumb in the movie and has a pet Chicken. I know, Blardy Cock! =)) But I know 3/4 of the girls in the audience so wanted to be fondled like that cock by the 6-pack ab-ed, China-born, brooding hunk.

Coached by their seamstress Aunt Ling (Liu Ling Ling ; the woman deserves the Hokkien equivalent of an Oscar), the Papaya sisters struggle at first because they have no “feel” in their voices. As a last resort, they appeal to Aunt Ling’s estranged twin sister, the Goddess of Getai, for help. She grants them their wish, but warns them the price will be high, especially if they do not obey the 5 rules of Getai, number 5 being that they shall not love or be loved by any man. Yah, tacky but I'll let you guess who breaks that rule =))

881 is really a musical in disguise. With liberal doses of nostalgic Hokkien standards strewn all over its 105mins. When the actors are happy, they sing. When they are sad, they sing. When they are horny, they sing. Hell when they are dying, they also sing =)) And frankly, if you're really not into the campy carousel of feathered boas, liberal glittering make-up, glitzy gaudy costumes and a very jarring dialect, you'll get a headache 15mins into the movie.

But I loved it!

Movies that portray a unique facet of our beloved little red dot, I feel should be supported. And I must say Royston has done this one with such classy obiangness (oxymoron alert!), I want to go right out and buy the Soundtrack later =)). Plus with such excellent timing too, since the Hungry Ghost Festival kicks off...errr...now...=)) But of course I must admit I'm also a little smitten with Little Papaya Mindee. Aiyoh what a kewty pie!

The Papayas (who themselves have nice papayas *blush*) find that their almost meteoric rise to Getai Stardom comes with its share of catfights. And this arrives in the form of the very gatal Eurasian Twosome, MTV's May And Choy, who play the spiky-esplanade-bra wielding duo, the Durian Sisters. Its a blardy fruitshop I tell ya! =))

There is an eventual showdown in a heartland Getai between the 4 girls and someone dies (but not from fighting or singing =P). That's so much I can say without spoiling it for you.

Go catch it, and I guarantee you'll be humming along to the film's title Hokkien track, One Half, in no time...

Huat Ah!

7.8/10

Unkers@TheMovies - The Transformers

You know when Ong Sor Fern, the ST film correspondent whose prose and views I have come to like and respect, dissed The Transformers in her review last Wednesday giving it 2 out of 5 stars, I wanted to disrupt her brainwaves with my Electrical Magnetic Pulse gun. Just like how Decepticon Blackout does with his =))



What does a frumpy old goat like her know about an iconic Childhood series, lovingly albeit expensively at US$145 million, put together for the big screen by Director MIchael Bay. He of Armaggeddon fame, so you get an idea of what to expect from the Wham-Bam Mayhem on Earth when the good robots and bad robots arrive to see who gets The Cube.

Anyway, this movie was too eagerly anticipated for me to let one woman spoil the show. Although deep down, I trusted Sor Fern's judgement and secretly wished I could give it 4 stars after watching.

Sad to say, she was spot-on in many respects.

Like how your interest in the movie would be directly proportional to how much you liked the toys as a kid. Or how Mr Bay didn't trust his robots with holding the screen on their own, resulting in some really migraine-inducing jerky camera work which doesn't allow for much up-close-and-personal time with the machines. And how, after a while, you have difficulty differentiating between Autobots and Decepticons because there is too little time spent fleshing out their roles and everyone eventually becomes morphing tin-cans.

However, plot and acting wise, I'd give the show 3 Stars. Because Shia LeBroeuf, the main teenage protaganist Sam WitWicky, will grow up to be a fine actor based on what I see now. And there is an All-American babe called Megan Fox who plays Mikaela, Sam's Wet Dream from HighSchool. She's so hawt, the guys infront and behind were gasping everytime she bared her mid-riff or exposed a half-boob or two. Sedap!.

In terms of High-tech wizardry? Oh My! You don't have an Executive Producer called Steven Spielberg for nothing. Its just one big Rollercoaster ride through frame after frame of Robot Machismo with some really amazing special effects. No wonder they said the film had a no-holds barred approach to creating a visual CGI feast like no other. You would be drinking some robot lubricating oil just to keep temperatures down. A 4.5 for the action-packed metal fest I suppose.

The cars are really nothing to shout about, all coming from the GM stable anyway. Although Bumblebee looks so much better now as a banana-yellow Chevy Camaro (diehards will remember him as a VW Beetle). And then there is Barricade morphing into a really wicked Ford Mustang GT disguised as a Police Car. Prime, on the other hand, gets a leaner-and-meaner facelift. Whereas Megatron no longer morphs into a pistol, but a Cybertronian Jet. His outward appearance evokes mixed responses, with some people agreeing with me that the Decepticon leader now looks like a giant metallic Yeti=))

Ok so enough of Robots for one day...Enjoy rather, the heavy rock sounds of Linkin Park from the movie's OST.

And oh yah, I suppose a 3.5/5 is in order. Certainly not a 4, but no embarassing 2 either ;)

Unkers@TheMovies - Closer

I just finished watching 2004's Closer on DVD. Yes I know I'm slow. Apart from Clive Owen and Julia Roberts, who both put in stellar performances, it had my two favorite actors in it, the very suave handsome Dunhill ambassador Jude Law and my Articulate Androgynous Amidala, Natalie Portman. Plus I simply love Damien Rice's soulfully melancholic rendition of The Blower's Daughter which is used in both the opening and ending credits.



If I had to summarise the show in 3 words, it would be Emotional Love Quadrangle. Oversimplification but I think it would suffice for this early Thursday morning when I have to be up for work in 4.5 hours.

In a scene from the show, Jude tells Julia, Try lying for a change, its the currency of the world.

And it struck me why sometimes, I am emotionally poor.

Sigh..the lessons I pick up from a show where Natalie is half naked most of the time...

7.8/10

Unkers@TheMovies - Spiderman 3

OK I confess.

I went to catch the new Spidey movie today for only 1 reason, Kirsten Dunst. I don't give 2 hoots about Tobey Maguire. In fact I think he is a 1-dimensional nerd. But little Miss Interview-With-A-Vampire...hmmm..I would give her a MJ any day =))



And of course there was the kewl-pull of seeing the Man-Arachnid in Jet Black. The prospect of having the Crawly One unleash some of his suppressed inner angst on the world. But I am afraid the new villain Venom does a better job. Tobey, in temporarily-evil Peter Parker mode, ends up looking like the lead singer from Good Charlotte. What with the floppy fringe and slightly kohl-ed eyes =))

Well lets cut to chase shall we. None of Director Sam Raimi's young posse of stars can really act. Cry maybe (of which there is plenty in this latest instalment) but act, no. But Sammy-boy weaves such a tangled web (no pun intended!) that somehow you don't really notice. You're too busy swinging around downtown Manhattan like a costumed Tarzan, getting lost in the numerous sub-plots, not to mention being blown away by the overbaked CGI, to care that Mary Jane will never make it as a Jazz singer on Broadway or that Peter Parker was probably born with very low EQ. James Franco, as Green Goblin Jnr, is quite the cute dude so..err..he will be forgiven for just being broodingly handsome.

Thomas Haden Church, Flint Marko aka Sandman, was utter rubbish. I think Mr Raimi added him in to achieve 2 things ; finally close the chapter on how Uncle Ben died and to have another reason for some CGI sorcery. Both ways, the Sandman would be what we call in Hokkien, an 'extra ingredient', usually redundant but added in for show. How Marko became the Sandy Swampthing must also be one of the lamest transformations in ComicBook history ever! He stumbles into an enormous pit running away from the NYPD, gets zapped by swirling molecular transformers in a science experiment and Voila!

Topher Grace (That 70's Show) is almost unrecognisable as Venom, the Black Goo-possessed Meanie with a mean set of teeth. And oh yes, there is the obligatory love triangle in this one, hell, 2 triangles really. Both involving Peter and MJ with gorgeous 3rd parties. MJ briefly runs back into the arms of Harry Osbourne (Franco) when Peter is too caught up preening for the kids and Peter, momentarily distraught at being dumped by his childhood sweetheart, runs into the lovely blond tresses of classmate Gwen Stacy (Bryce Dallas Howard). Gwen is HOT, I don't blame him =))

At the end of the day, Spidey 3 answers all your burning questions lah and provides some form of closure, albeit in a staggering and bladder-bursting 140 mins. Whether or not the closure is done properly is another matter.

For Spidey 4, perhaps poor old Aunty May will finally realise that her dear nephew does not just have a webbed costume fetish afterall =))

7/10

Unkers@TheMovies - 300

OK so yesterday we caught a 'girlie show'. Today, it was my turn to pick the movie and of course it had to be a macho 'boy show'. Bring it on!, the blood and chopped limbs and kewl armor with red capes and swash-buckling (err maybe spear twirling) Greek models and all that macho preening and posing with 8-pack abs and all...

And in what better way then to catch the CGI-ed tale of the epic battle at Thermopylae where 300 Spartans, led by a bushy-bearded King Leonidas, battled the rag-tag but frighteningly horde-ish army of Persian King Xerxes.



I can't say this is a fantastic movie. Enjoyable yes but certainly not fantastic. I mean from the moment I heard that it was shot mostly on blue and green screens, it put me off a little. Well if Peter Jackson could go on location in NZ when he was doing LOTR, surely even with CGI, 300 director Zack Synder could spare us the fake looking backdrops and city-scapes =)) But at least it was not as fakey as Sky Captain and The World of Tommorrow. That one was saved, barely, by the inimitable Jude Law and of course everybody's favorite UN-Adopt-a-Child-Mudder Angelina Jolie.

But I digress.

The cast of 300, I don't remember seeing anywhere. Gerard Butler as King Leonidas. Yes I hear you...Gerard who? =)) The rest of the Spartans, at least those who had significant air-time anyway, I also don't remember seeing anywhere else. But my oh my, when you look at them in their red capes and spears with shields and all, you know they have been working out. OK this is an understatement, they all look like Greek Gods! And I don't mean Venus hor, more like Zeus =)) 300 will surely go into the Guinness Book of Records as the Movie With The Most Number Of Killer Abs In A Single Frame =))



Then there is Persian King Xerxes. You know I'm really bad with history but My Goodness!, are you sure a Persian King looks like that? How shall I put it, he's...erm...really Alternative.



What with nose rings, facial piercings, a bald head, kohl-circled eyes and shimmery thongs, he looks like Johnny Depp's Captain Jack Sparrow in Patpong-gone-wrong transvestite drag =)) And holy moley, guess who plays the Persian Pervert? Rodrigo Santoro. Yes the same Brazilian hunk in Love Actually that Laura Linney has the hots for and the good 'ole crash-surviving Paulo in Lost. The transformation is...yikes...horrid =))

But 300, actually the real Battle of Thermopylae rather, has real lessons for us in modern warfare. This point has of course been expounded upon by many a military historian. The importance of good trained soldiers, clever use of terrain and tactics, teamwork and courageous sacrifice is available for learning in copious amounts.



So barring the slow dialogue in the beginning, a tit or two that had the 'pre-pubescent' audience ooh-ing and ahh-ing, the Matrix-copied slow-motion stylised fight scenes (but with flying cut-a-way heads and limbs) and a tad shallow personalization of the characters in the movie, 300 was immensely watchable lah.

Just don't ask the Chimp what happened in the first 20mins. She fell asleep =))

7/10

Unkers@TheMovies - Music and Lyrics

I don't have to say again that the both of us are suckers for romantic comedies.

Something about them being easy-going, feel-good flicks that give you a tingle in your heart and a slight guffaw in the tummy. And so what if Hollywood milks the genre dry. They're enough suckers out there to fill the cinema halls, judging by this evening's full house when we went to catch Hugh and Drew's latest Music and Lyric partnership.



Hugh plays Alex Fletcher, an '80s pop group Has-Been destined to working the Country Fair and Amusement Park circuit singing songs from his band's former chart-topping albums. Incidentally, Alex's ex-band was called Pop! Cheesy =)) When reigning pop-princess Cora Corman (new all-American babe Haley Bennett and herself an ex Pop! groupie and now hybrid Shakira/Britney/Jewel sexpot) asks Alex to write a song for her new album, he panics. But still its a chance too good to pass up. You see Mr Fletcher is good with melodies, but horrible with words. Then enters Sophie Fisher, Alex's part-time plant-lady who comes to his house daily to water his 'vegetation'. The quirky Sophie soon strikes up some chemistry with Alex, using her flair for the written word to pen the lyrics for the amazingly catchy song that the latter has composed for Cora.

The movie works for several reasons. Chiefly because of Hugh's irresistable charm and charisma. He could charm your grandmother off her wheelchair. I mean the plot is nothing to shout about but the scriptwriter(s) must certainly be given brownie points for crafting hilariously witty conversation for both Hugh and Drew. Of course the best one-liners are saved for the floppy-fringed gentleman. But Drew gets her fair share of disarmingly humorous repartee.

Then there are constant reminders of the embarassing '80s, of infectious Synth-pop tunes, tight pants and ugly hair. A walk down memory lane of sorts for the unkers and unties in the audience. Coupled with a number of surprisingly catchy original songs in the movie that are supposed to be sung by Hugh himself. I think he was not lip-synching lah.

Hugh and Drew are very believable as a song-writing duo who eventually fall in love. The thing about Drew is that she may not be your typical case of a sexy Chio Bu but her quirky kewtness grows on you. The ending is predictably sweet, but somehow a little too simplistic for a movie held together by such witty dialogue.

Not exactly a movie I would tell you to go rush out and catch. But a movie I would certainly reccommend for a nice, Snuggle-on-the-sofa evening with that Significant Other nonetheless.

The title needs some re-working though =))

7.3/10

See here for POP!'s MTV, PoP Goes My Heart. Hilarious =))

Unkers@TheMovies - Letters From Iwo Jima

I have become quite a fan of Ken Watanabe. And with Ken-san's latest incarnation as Lt.GEN Tadamichi Kuribayashi in Million Dollar 'Harry' Clint Eastwood's Letters From Iwo Jima, the suave jepun has sealed his place in Hollywood's A-list for sure.



Letters From Iwo Jima, unlike Flags of our Fathers, tells the story of the island's bloody fall from the Japanese perspective. But since I did not catch Flags (because I heard it was draggy and boring), I can't say which one is better. Moreover, I am no military historian and even if I had caught both movies, I won't know which one gives the more accurate and balanced account.

But no matter, Letters was a great show to catch. Depressing, like all war movies with blood, gore and human-to-human combat in copious amounts, but very moving no less.

The charasmatic Kuribayashi arrives to take charge of the Japanese Garrison on Iwo Jima not knowing that it would be his final assignment as a soldier of the Imperial Japanese Army. Only after he arrives and when his friend, fellow soldier and 1932 Olympic Equestrian Gold-medallist Lt.COL Takeichi Nishi (played by Tsuyoshi Ihara) tells him that the Japanese Combined Fleet has been totally decimated at the Battle of the Leyte Gulf, does the General realise that the odds are stacked impossibly against him and his men, being more or less devoid of crucial air and sea cover.

And so begins a fearful and morale-zapping journey of getting the garrison ready for the impending American Armada. On the General's instructions, the troops abandon their original beach defences for cave-digging in the highlands. Most important of which was Mount Suribachi, that famous mountain where a group of US soldiers eventually hoisted the Stars and Stripes after they took control of the island and where an iconic photo was captured that became THE photo that represented the war in the Pacific.



Watanabe is supported by an excellent cast of young Japanese actors. Most notably Kazunari Ninomiya, a member of Japanese boy-band Arashi, as army Private Saigo. Kazunari plays the part of the reluctant conscipt torn between his love for his wife and duty to his emperor with a sizeable dollop of conviction. He is so endearing in his gabra own way that I actually didn't want him to get riddled with machine-gun fire or have a grenade explode in his face. Which incidentally was what happened to many of his regiment-mates. Handsome Ryo Kase plays Shimizu, a fresh graduate of the Kempeitei Academy kicked out and re-assigned to a deployment on Iwo Jima just after 5 days on the job as a member of the much feared Japanese Secret Military Police. He's a good boy you see, too good to be out terrorizing the folks back home with the notorious Kempeitei. After being suspected of having been sent to spy on the troops on Iwo Jima, Shimizu eventually strikes up a good friendship with Saigo as they thread the perilous journey leopard-crawling and bullet-dodging together.

I suppose like all good movies, Letters does not take sides. The Americans are not made to look like crass, burger-chomping savages. Neither are the Japanese made to look like a couple of mindless Kamikaze Ninjas bent on Banzai-ing their way through when everything is lost. Like all good war movies, we are shown that in times of such bitter and brutal conflict, there can be no good that comes out from the bloody mess. Inside every soldier, American or Japanese, is someone's son, brother, husband or father. And from the letters that the soldiers send and receive from back home, the universality of kinship ties is manifested so evidently.

The power of Eastwood's story-telling is when you find yourself showing so much sympathy, empathy and fear on the Japanese soldiers' behalf. No mean feat for a generation of South-East Asians, whose ancestors were tortured by the Japs and bred on a diet of heroic movies showing the Nipponese getting their arses kicked back to Tokyo by the Allied War Juggernaut.

So kudos Mr Eastwood, I'll give your latest effort a 8/10.