Speechless by the King's Speech

Drawn upon a rich narrative and set amidst the beautiful wintery landscape of England in the pre war years, The King's Speech is poignant, exuberant and unexpected in many ways. It is a biopic about the stammering King George VI (played by Colin Firth) who found himself ascending the throne following his brother's forced abdication overcoming his stammer and ultimately finding his voice to helm the nation to greatness. It is a moving story about an unexpected friendship developed between a king and his unorthodox speech therapist that marked the beginning of a great era in the history of Britain's monarchy.

The film opens with various close shots of a wireless broadcast mic that at once seem looming, large and intimidating. Director Tom Hooper is a master at the art form as throughout the film, it is worth noting the many interesting juxtaposition of camera angles especially during the interplays between the king and his speech therapist, Lionel Logue (played by Geoffrey Rush) as well as from the king's point of view behind the mic during his public deliveries.

The magic of The King's Speech lies in the subtle and gradual transformations in the king where we see him slowly overcoming his speech impediment and eventually finding his own style of eloquence. Colin Firth played his regal part resplendently and sublimely as though the role was created for him. This was a transcendental and career stamping moment for him as we did not just watch a performance by an actor. Firth disappeared behind his character and gelled into a singular entity with the stammering and volatile King George VI.

On the other hand, Helena Bonham Carter who plays Queen Elizabeth seemed a tad out of her element and mellow compared to her usual selection of roles but still played her part with elegance while Geoffrey Rush was his usual refined self displaying his competency and buoyancy in his acting prowess. The screenplay written by David Seidler is delicate and intelligent while the hauntingly beautiful score by Alexandre Desplat is reminiscent of the work of Jan A.P. Kaczmarek in Hachiko: A Dog's Story while not in any way, discounting his talents.

The King's Speech is artfully and brilliantly directed and there are moments in the film that will get you laughing out loud. It is engaging, magnificent and leaves one feeling triumphant at the end. Rating 9/10

127 hours

Nothing is more powerful than the will to live. This is what 127 hours is about. It is a survival tale of a man trapped in an isolated canyon in Utah when a rock fell and crushed his arm against the boulder walls and who ultimately made it out 6 days later with sheer determination. 127 hours marks another remarkable feat by Academy Award Winner director Danny Boyle, best known for his 2008 critically acclaimed heavyweight Slumdog Millionaire.

The film takes off at a dizzying fast pace with random montages of spectators in large sporting events, people hustling and bustling in their lives, leaky faucets, the film's protagonist Aron Ralston (played to pitch perfection by James Franco) packing in a haste and others in a split screen which initially struck out as erratic but are anything but random as they fall into pieces towards the end. The film wastes no time in diving straight to the plot as twenty minutes into the movie, the action begins when paradoxically Aron becomes entrapped.

The next 127 hours (remaining 74 minutes of screen time) chronicles his deteriorating physical conditions and psyche ranging from denial (this is insane), frustration, longing, acceptance and finally the surge of willpower after having a premonition which prompted him to make the hardest decision he's ever made that led to his survival. Like any good piece of cinematic art, the performance of the actors are central to the integrity of the film. And here, James Franco delivers the most riveting performance of his career that solidified him as an immensely talented and serious actor in Hollywood. The film is essentially a one man show with the supporting cast appearing in early parts of the movie and in his flashbacks but we never get bored with Franco. Every facial expression showed his defeat and waning exhaustion with genuine emotions while his resourcefulness and self parodying moments are huge likability factors. However, it is his epiphanies through the life and death situation in which he came to recall what is important in his life that truly made a connection.

The clever uses of Boyle's signature psychedelic flashbacks and hallucinations are brilliantly interwoven into and seamlessly edited in the film which provided an in-depth character development as well as heightened our senses on Aron's desires. The multiple camera angles are explored and utilized in every possible way to fully capture Aron's predicament yet not make the audience feel claustrophobic although shot in a very narrow and contained space. The cinematography is visually stunning as we get landscape and aerial views of the canyons in its full glory. Its amazing how nature can make us feel so miniscule while we enthrall in its beauty. The CGI effects are outstanding at the torrential storm scene but most importantly, the epic score by A.R Rahman stole the show for me. The dark and urgent pounding of tribal beats and the pull of a string instrument when Aron struck a nerve (literally) is most effective but it is the spiritually uplifting music at the end of the movie when Aron is rescued that conveys the gratuitous feelings of being alive in all of us.

127 hours is extremely emotional, captivating, spectacular, stylistic and story telling at its best. It is a not to be missed movie of the year that stands out above the rest and is in a class of its own. Rating 10/10

Quote

"You know, I've been thinking. Everything is... just comes together. It's me. I chose this. I chose all this. This rock... this rock has been waiting for me my entire life. It's entire life, ever since it was a bit of meteorite a million, billion years ago. In space. It's been waiting, to come here. Right, right here. I've been moving towards it my entire life. The minute I was born, every breath that I've taken, every action has been leading me to this crack on the out surface" 

The Tourist

Not bad but not great either

Being a die hard fan of Johnny Depp, I could barely contain my excitement when I walked into the theater to catch The Tourist despite knowing the film was thrashed by critics. The appeal of the first time screen collaboration of two of the world's biggest A-list stars (their combined mega wattage could light an entire city) was too hard to pass on.

The Tourist is classified as action, drama, thriller, comedy and romance. Many movies have found success with the fusion of genres but in this case, it seems like an unnecessary hodgepodge that rendered the underdevelopment of the movie itself. Although not a major downfall, but it left me feeling there is more to be desired. The plot of the movie is straightforward although there are many loopholes that could have crippled the movie in itself but are often overlooked in the beautiful scenery (excellent cinematography) and in the face of its stars. In fact, the supposedly clever twist at the end is cliched and makes no sense in the play out of the story. At 103 minutes, it is not a long movie. It moves at a pace that is neither too fast nor too slow and is a good ride into the journey.

Angelina Jolie is certainly ravishing (or ravenous :p) but there are just way too many scenes of her walking into a room in slow motion where all heads turned to look at her as though she was in a perfume commercial. The nauseating, eye-rolling inducing overemphasis on her ethereal beauty made her surreal and hence difficult to relate to, not to mention did nothing to building her character. I suspect director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck created those scenes in hopes that the audience would be so spellbound by her beauty and not notice the contrived acting and dialogue.

Johnny Depp is without doubt, one of the most sought after and versatile actors in Hollywood known for his quirky roles but in The Tourist, he looked dull (how is this even possible) and somewhat downplayed, despite being one of the two leads. His character injected most of the much needed comic relief in the movie and maybe it was just me, but there were traces of Captain Jack Sparrow in the funny scenes. I have to admit, I was surprised he was nominated for a Golden Globe for his role in the movie because although charming and absolutely lovable as he always is, it was not an award worthy performance.

The biggest problem of the movie is perhaps these two megastars cannot share the limelight together. Putting Jolie and Depp in a movie together sounded like a genius plan hatched but instead of turning the movie into a golden goose, the film suffered at its own advertising of their stars. Both Jolie and Depp are extremely strong characters that can carry a movie on their own but together, it was a train wreck. It felt awkward watching them kiss. It almost felt incestuous. There is more chemistry between two rocks than between Jolie and Depp. One friend commented that Jolie never had chemistry with her co-stars but I pointed out her excellent chemistry with Brad Pitt in Mr and Mrs. Smith and my friend reminded me of what came out of the movie (poor Jen, I am still on her team) but I digress.

The Tourist does not attempt to set itself apart from mainstream movies nor claim to be an intelligent movie. It does however, boast two of the world's biggest stars (you would not want to miss it if you are fans of Jolie and/or Depp), great supporting cast, breathtaking scenery (European tourism is set to boost after this) and simple, mindless fun. It is not as bad as people say, there were plenty of laughs in the cinema. Go watch with no expectations and you might be rewarded. Besides, there are far worse things to do on Saturday night. Rating 6/10

Dimples of Venus

I love dimples and I mean, I LOVE dimples. I remember being totally enchanted by Soong Ai Ling in the 1990's De Beers Commercial because of those deep lovely dimples. I am simply drawn to them. In fact, what made me first set eyes on my ex boyfriend were his dimples :). I love them so much that at one passing phase in my life, I would suck the insides of my cheek day and night just to make my very shy and obscure dimple on the right cheek stand out more. Then one day, I found out about back dimples. 


The dimples of Venus (also known as back dimples) are sagittally symmetrical indentations sometimes visible on the human lower back, just superior to the gluteal cleft. They are directly superficial to the two sacroiliac joints, the sites where the sacrum attaches to the ilium of the pelvis.Dimples of Venus are often considered a sexually desirable feature. The dimples are more common in women than men and are rare overall (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dimples_of_Venus)


Sexually desirable? HELL YEA. 

Apparently I have them :)

Guess I am one rare sexy beast. Rawrrrrrrrrrrrr :)

Crazy Dreams

I usually like to dream. Every night when I close my eyes, I know that I am in for an adventure beyond my wildest imaginations but this madness has to stop. I have been having totally strange, bizarre and disturbing dreams for three nights in a row now.

First night. I was out walking in a dark alley with my sister and all of a sudden she swelled up to the size of a balloon and it hit me that she was heavily pregnant. And she started screaming in pain as she went into labor and I spiraled into a full panic mode as there was no one else in the alley and there were no means of transportation anywhere to be seen. And as the bizarre dream would unfold, a wheelchair conjured itself out of thin air, waiting at the sidewalk. So, plopping my sis and her big fat belly onto the wheelchair, I started running and wheeling her to the nearest hospital. Weird.

Second night. I was having Nandos (yup, even in my dreams :P). Then the scene changed. I was in some sort of fantasy land with my sis (again, hmmm) and there was a fog filled rock mountain which we had to climb up to get to the fantasy land but there was a reptilian monster in the deep pit. It looked almost like a greyish black slimy dragon minus the wings and scales. Still, it was scary. Then change of scenery again. Suddenly I was in the streets of Paris with my sister and her friend Xavier (whom I have never met in real life). And Xavier disclosed to us that he had a deal with the Devil and that his time was up and that he would die today. And he started running away from us so we wouldn't have to see him die and I ran after him to stop him. Then all of a sudden I was in the washroom of an old Chinese temple in the streets of Paris and Xavier somehow swapped bodies with me using black magic or whatever then I died (what the hell, right). So, as my soul lingered over my dead body, I watched my body decomposed into a bag of RICE (YES! UNCOOKED RICE!) and then there was a gust of wind and my poor soul had to scramble around to contain the rice (or pieces of me). Even weirder than the first night.

Last night. Someone threw acid in my face and I watched my face dissolve though I have no clue who the attacker was. Ok, this was plain disturbing.

No wonder people think I am nuts.

Go on. Take your shot at analyzing my dreams. Just so you know, I am not crazy, my mother had me tested.

What a bloody prick (literally)

In the past week, I had woken with long red scratches on my legs, much to my puzzlement. On some days, they looked pretty bad, almost resembling jellyfish stings. Generally, I consider myself a good sleeper (despite the occasional snoring and sleep paralysis episodes). I don't toss and turn, I take up a relatively small space and I almost always sleep through the night.

I couldn't figure out what was causing these strange scratches. It wasn't the evil sister attacking me in the middle of the night (who is incidentally the most obnoxious sleeper I know in existence. Snoring/talking/teeth grinding/doing yoga poses on the bed in her sleep are nothing new to me and of course, the more annoying habit of pulling my covers and pillows from me and holding onto them for dear life : P

So, the evil sis was ruled out. There were no broken springs in the mattress either or foreign objects anywhere visibly seen nor alien jellyfishes under my bed. I was perplexed.

Then as I was lying in bed this afternoon, with my head rested on my bolster and contemplating nothing when I felt a prick on the back of my head. So I bolted up and tore open the bolster and feverishly rummaged around until I found that tiny little silver needle peeking back at me, mocking me while nestled contentedly in the many wads and layers of cotton in my bolster. Hmmph.

So it seems that I had lost a needle on my bed a few months ago while I was mending my holey pants : p and sneaky it was that it crept its way in there! Well done needle! Or well done me seeing that I am actually the cause of the whole pricking business? : p

There there, bear bear

I made my 8 year old stepsister cry the other day. And it upset me tremendously seeing her weep like that. It was all my fault and I take full responsibility for it.

You see, dad's girlfriend and 2 daughters moved in with us last month and although I welcome them fully with a happy heart and sincerely see them as family, I also look back at my privacy with nostalgia now. Gone are the days of enjoyed solitude, of personal bliss. My room, my sanctuary, my haven of meditation, contemplation and inspiration, my safety port from the world and its volatility has been 'infiltrated' with the constant presence of childish laughter, innocence and acts of rummaging through my belongings. Don't get me wrong, I love my stepsisters-to-be but I am a creature of habit and I am fiercely protective of the privacy and the little me time that I have.

So, they were at it again the other day and I was feeling frustrated as I really wanted to clear some thoughts. And so I playfully hoisted her over my shoulder and 'threw' her out of the room but she came back laughing, wanting more. And a moment of sheer brilliance came to me. I ran into her room, took her favorite teddy bear and flung it down the stairs to see her chasing after it.

The victim, bear bear

The scene of crime

This is how it looked

I thought she was laughing at first until I felt something was not quite right. It was then I realized she was standing at the bottom of the stairs, clutching to the bear and crying and guilt overwhelmed me like waves washing over the shores. The level of guilt I felt was not dissimilar to as if I had just murdered a child. I had intended it as a playful act but then I remembered Kafin.

I had a teddy bear named Kafin when I was 9. I named it Kafin Lim Jia Shin (if you are wondering about the last name, that would be the last name of the boy I had a crush on then and thought I'd marry him) and I loved it unconditionally. Kafin and I were inseparable. I would go to school missing it and I would come home and run to it first thing afraid that my maid had thrown it out or that it had missed me or was 'hungry'. I never had imaginary friends but I saw Kafin as more than a bear. Kafin was my best friend and my 'daughter' and I took pride in taking care of her. I would buy clothes for her and would talk to Kafin everyday (with me mimicking a high pitched voice as that of Kafin's voice). Kinda creepy now that I think of it. It is almost like Norman Bates and 'Mother' :P

And, my brother had a very naughty habit of bullying my toys, especially Kafin. He knew how much I loved it and it gave him morbid pleasure in torturing it. I would cry hours whenever he punched Kafin or thrashed her around. I remember once he accidentally stained her with some yellow antibacterial cream and I couldn't stop crying, thinking that my precious Kafin being no longer snowy white was the biggest injustice I had ever known.

Eventually I outgrew Kafin, just like any adult would outgrow their toys. But the episode with my stepsister brought back memories of it and I do not think her childish attachment with her bear is silly because I know firsthand how genuine that love could be, even for a teddy bear. So, I am really really sorry, my little sister. I won't bully your bear anymore, I promise. See how much fun bear bear and I are having? :)

S+S

It is finally over. Tonight was the last night of the Week 1 dance performances at the Short + Sweet Dance Malaysia 2009. The Festival is a hub for creative Malaysians to showcase their talents in a highly creative, collaborative and professional environment and each showcase has to be well under ten minutes to fit the description of Short + Sweet. I have been very fortunate to have been included in the line up for choreographers for the festival this year and I premiered my debut choreography project titled 'Follow/Lead'.

I will write more about my piece in my next post as I would just like to thank everyone that's been involved in the festival to make it such a success. Big thanks and all my love to my wonderful and amazingly talented dancers, Pippy, Amanda and Hua Hooi. You guys inspire me to be a better dancer, choreographer and person and I couldn't have done it without you all. Each and every one of you are so unique and talented in so many ways and your stars are shining bright. It has been my utmost pleasure working with all of you and I hope there will be more opportunities for us to work together in the future.

Big big heartfelt thanks to the stage manager, Michelle and her assistant, Avril for being ever so tolerant about us showing up late and for making sure not one hair is out of place in the running of the whole show.You guys are the life and blood of S+S, what would we do without you? Also, huge kudos to all backstage crew and the production team as well. The lighting was superb and brought new dimensions to my piece. It was better than I could have ever imagined.

Admittedly, I got cold feet when I saw the line up of choreographers. I recognized more than half the names as they are big names in the industry, people whose work I have seen and admired. And, there I was, a newbie, a rookie and a relatively unheard of name in the industry. I am not armed with any decorative dance degrees nor have extensive experience in choreography. In fact, this was my debut choreography on a professional production level.

I chose to choreograph a contemporary dance piece for the festival, but truth is, I am not trained in contemporary dance and neither are my dancers. But, this piece had enabled us to further explore and understand how our bodies move and along the way, surprised ourselves with the new heights that we reached. Some people felt my piece was a little short, being only 4 minutes and 40 seconds long. But, we only had four hours of rehearsals ( 4 x 1 hour sessions) before the observation rehearsal on Thursday and I don't know about you, but the professionalism and standard of dance my dancers showed in the piece just after four hours of rehearsals was nothing short of impressive to me.

Truthfully, I couldn't have asked for more. I am pleased that I am off to a good start in trying a hand at choreographing and I am even more pleased with my dancers and also with how the music, lighting, costumes, make up all gelled together to bring my artistic visions alive on stage which is a thousand times better than I had envisioned.

And a BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG thank you to those who came. To my sister, Audra, Joyce and 2 daughters, Ling Feng, Jing Feng, Bee, Aunt Hong, Brandon, Max, Enid, Haw Linn, Lara, Zukhairi, Patrick, Pat Ibrahim, Chee Wei, Cheng Choo, Jessica, Ching Lin, Alfred, Suhaili, Regina, Janice etc etc (sorry if I missed out your name)...but thank you a million years for coming! It meant a great deal to me. Love you all! So, thank you, thank you and thank you. And you will be seeing my face and hearing my name more from now.

Two funerals and (0) weddings

I woke in the dark, disoriented and let the darkness momentarily blind and engulf me. It was dinner time and I could hear dishes clanging and chairs pulling downstairs but I lay still. I allowed the realization to set in and contemplated the overwhelming hollowness, the intertwined new and old pain searing in my heart, the importance of families, the fragility of life and come what may after. I miss her. I miss my mum. I miss her violently.

Grandma's funeral was grand. Many came to pay their last respects and as with all funerals, it was heart wrenching. I was prepared to let Grandma go, I had accepted mortality in its full force few years ago. But what I was not prepared for was how much it brought me back to her.

I felt the stab in my heart when I saw my mum's name bracketed on the obituary notice which denotes the person is deceased. I was mum's representative as it is the daughter's duty to last pull the drape over the mother's body before the closing of the casket and my tears poured. There is nothing more beautiful than the mother-daughter bond in this world. I love my mum and she loved her mum and I love Grandma and we are all daughters of love in this fleeting cycle of life.

I saw them so clearly in my mind. Mum and grandma. I saw every wrinkle and twinkle and I heard their interacting voices, every dent of intonation, every nuance of expression and I imagined their voices floating away, like an echo fading. I could not hold it anymore. Will I ever stop missing them?

My mum's sister spoke of how their hearts were bleeding at mum's funeral. She was wrong about mine. My heart was hemorrhaging. I was in so much pain that my heart was physically aching. Every breath I took was sharp to the lungs and I remember dying inside when they closed mum's casket. The sealing of the casket is a most traumatizing experience for the living. Every nail knocked in is a hammer of the steel truth of life; into the heart of loved ones, sealing into it a sense of finality, of an eternity of separation beyond life.

Mum, I miss you miss you miss you. I wish you knew how much I love you. I never brought myself to say those three words to you and when I finally did, you have already drifted halfway. I was too late. I really want you to know that I love you and that being your daughter is the biggest and proudest achievement in my life. Rest in peace, mum. Rest in peace, popo. I will forever be your loving daughter and granddaughter.

R.I.P, Grandma

How ironic is that my previous post is about the celebration of the joys of birth and life while this post will be about my grandma's departure from life.

Grandma left us at 3:30pm on the 19th February 2009 at the age of 91. We had prepared ourselves for the inevitable as her health had been drastically deteriorating in the past few years and have been bedridden for a while. She had suffered from multiple stroke attacks and her organs collapsed and lost their functions one after another. Grandma fought a long hard battle and letting her go was love and mercy on the part of those who loved her and are proud of her.

I am anguished at how little I know of grandma. All I know about her is that she was born during the first world war in 1918 in dapu county, guangdong province, China and was sold to my grandpa's family at the age of 13 as a child bride. She married grandpa at the age of 16 and had 5 remarkable children and many grandchildren and great grandchildren.

After losing her husband, my grandpa at the age of 76, she went to live with her children and traveled to many countries with them. She went to Perth with us in 1994 and I remember her going in the adventure park too, which of course she couldn't go on any rides. But she did go on one of those slow, crawling monorails

Grandma had all the traits of a Hakka woman. Fierce, independent and strong. From my mother's childhood stories, I learned that Grandma was a strict parent, almost authoritarian and was relentless and fiercely protective in the upbringing of her children, wanting the best for them. She did however, raise her children well despite the lack of formal education herself. All her children turned out successful in life and came to love and respect her and took great care of her until the last moment. She couldn't have hoped for better children.

Grandma cooked the best authentic Hakka cuisine which we all looked forward to every Chinese New Year. From my childhood memories, Grandma visited us frequently as we lived a walking distance away. And she would always come to our place after squabbling with grandpa and she never once failed to bring me and my siblings a pack of Ligo's raisins. Until today, we would think of Grandma whenever we see ligo's raisins on the supermarket shelf.

Grandma and mum conversed in Hakka and somehow, I understood the dialect without ever picking it up. And I would smile to myself whenever Grandma asked mum if we had been good and of course we were . Mum, being the ever filial daughter would insist on giving grandma her monthly allowance and grandma would insist on not taking it. So, the war would begin and me and sis would look at the ang pow being forcefully shoved from one to another. Most often, sis and I would just sit back, amused and watch them do their mother-daughter thing. Of course, it would always end up mum winning and the ang pow would end up in the unhappy hands of grandma.

Grandma would accept the ang pow very reluctantly but she had her ways of putting it back into the 'economy'. You see, besides good old Ligo's raisins, Grandma would give us ang pows whenever she came to stay with us. So, it wasn't hard to imagine how delighted we were to have her stay over (yes, we were greedy greedy children) Compared to mum, sis and I were a lot less subtle, we would say 'aiya, no need la, no need la you keep for yourself la' while already pocketing it

Then we moved to our new place in Klang and saw less of Grandma. But, she would come stay with us for a period of time once in a while. Sis and I would take turns giving up our beds for grandma and sleep on the mattress on the floor. And how often we laughed when grandma break wind during her sleep (it became our inside joke after a while). Our other inside joke was that we would both stand by each side of grandma and hoist her up from the underarms so that we could walk faster and not have to wait for grandma with her slow footsteps (we NEVER did that, don't worry). More often, me and sis would mock grandma's long winded tendencies. She would repeat the same thing not once, not twice, but up to five times (which we likened to a broken record playing over and over again) and we would end up laughing hysterically as we finished her sentences for her since we already knew what she was about to say.

Whenever grandma called on the phone for mum, her first words were always her trademark LOUD 'EH, WHO ARE YOU?' and we would have to spend the next ten minutes explaining who we were and our relation to our mum and sometimes we were so naughty that we would mess with her. Although we often amused ourselves with grandma's antics, we actually enjoyed having her around and always invited her to come stay again. We would always be by her side holding her hands while crossing the roads or walking down the stairs even though her jelly like wrinkled hand felt very geli in mine

Admittedly, we spent less time with her as we grew older, with more of life demanding commitments from us. (Grandma was also the one who funded my tertiary education which I could never fully express the depth of my gratitude in my lifetime). I was especially reluctant to see her after mum's passing as we kept it from her (Grandma got really upset and had a stroke after learning her other daughter, my aunt had a stroke and we decided it was for the best to keep the tragic news from her). Often, she would ask about my mum and it would pain me to see how much she missed her daughter and how she longed to see her again.

I am sad about grandma's departure but also relieved that her sufferings had come to an end. I believe she is in a better place now and reunited with grandpa and mum. I feel there is nothing to be too sad about because she had a good, long 91 years on earth and had great children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. She had great stories, had traveled the world and had loved and been loved. She was a remarkable woman, she was

Rest in peace, grandma. You will be remembered forever.