Birthday Pictures

Here are some (long-overdue) pictures from the Birthday Weekend.

First of all, I have to thank my colleagues who got a cake for me and stuff. It was very sweet and lovely.







I don't know why Mardy decided it would be a good idea to cut the cake such that it resembled Spider-Man's web, but she did it anyway.



The Inter-Continental room for some strange reason came with tons of stuff we could fashion into costumes, like so:





We also came up with many different uses for a Bible. You wouldn't believe how versatile this popular tome is! Here are two of them:


1) As a mousepad (my personal favorite)


2) To cover cup noodles with

On another note, here I am spelling out my initials with mahjong tiles:



As the night wore on I kind of got more nuts, possibly due to the increased level of alcohol in my system.















These are from another day:


That was a really shitty frisbee that we got from a pack of Lay's chips. It was made of foam and sucked pretty bad.


Yeah, I'm all ghetto and shit.



I have to thank everyone again for showing up and keeping me company. It was really much needed and appreciated. And for keeping me in a state of almost constant inebriation, that helped make it all good too.

And finally, for no other reason than the fact that I find it highly amusing, I present the Party World KTV VIP Card!



I was literally stunned speechless the moment I lay eyes on it. Have you ever seen anything quite as gaudy, tacky and tasteless in your life? Not fucking likely. It looked so damn ridiculous, I had to put it up. And unfortunately, I carry this around in my wallet. Go ahead, laugh.

Smoke Got in My Eyes

I had a shoot on Sunday that involved close to 150 extras and actors. While kinda fun, it left me suffering from excessive smoke inhalation.

I was standing right in front of where the smoke machines were, and once they were turned on, I simply could not breathe. It wouldn't have been half as bad if they'd just stuck to the machines, but because they didn't have enough of them they had to use smoke produced from burning joss sticks. Now these were the real killer. Their smoke is so noxious and thick, it's almost like tear gas. Your eyes start to water, and your lungs choke, shrivel up and die.

It's not that I didn't know what to do in the event of smoke - you drop to the ground, where there is always a tiny layer of fresh air. Unfortunately I was holding a camera and shooting the damn scene, so I didn't have that option. In fact, half the time my camera was shaking because I was coughing so damn much.

I was coughing so much, I couldn't even smoke a regular cigarette. It was like my lungs were screaming, "We've had enough smoke to kill a baby elephant, and you're still forcing us to take more? No fucking way!"

So now I've been suffering from respiratory problems for the past two days. Which kinda sucks because I'm going to karaoke today. Let's see how it turns out.

War of the Worlds premiere tonight. Woohoo.

One Era Ends and Another Begins

I had the opportunity to watch two of the summer blockbuster season's big movies within a relatively short period recently. One of them really well written, and the other atrociously so.

Batman was the first English comic book superhero I got into. At the age of ten or eleven I got this collection of comic book stories, The Greatest Joker Stories Ever Told, compiling material from 1939 all the way to the 1980's. To a little impressionable kid, here was really a hero to believe in. His strong moral code, his smarts, his cool toys, and his physical prowess - all of these were almost impossible ideals to achieve for a fat, uncool kid. Almost, but not theoretically impossible. And therein lay the greatest appeal of Batman. If you worked hard enough, you could really be him. No matter what, he was an achievable goal, because all you needed was your willpower, not radioactive spiders or to be born on another planet. And so he was my hero. At 13, I started buying comic books seriously, and devoured each and every Batman comic I could get my pudgy little hands on. This was the stuff of legend - The Dark Knight Returns, Batman Year One, The Killing Joke, the early Legends of the Dark Knight. I ate it all up, and slowly, unconsciously, they became an integral part of me.

I wasn't aware how deeply ingrained the Batman mythos were to me though, until I saw Batman Begins. I went into the theatre late, and missed the first ten minutes. The first complete scene I saw was the Waynes at the opera. Two minutes later, Thomas and Martha Wayne lay dead in Crime Alley, and my tears started to flow. I was shocked at my own reaction. I knew the story, I knew they would be killed, I knew who killed them, I knew everything. And yet I still cried. I cried because a part of me still feels pain every single time little Bruce loses his parents, because Batman is so much a part of me that I share his pain, and finally because the scene was done so fucking well.

That phrase basically sums up the whole movie in a nutshell. Tim Burton's versions might have been cool and stylish as hell - I mean, I'm definitely a huge fan of his in many ways - but this, this was the only one that got the heart of Batman. It got right at the emotional truth that was at the centre of the mythos. It got so many things absolutely correct, and I rejoiced in it all. The relationships between Bruce and Alfred and between Batman and Gordon, especially, were spot-on. Sure there were flaws, Katie Holmes' redundant character being one of them, but they were so so forgivable when compared to the travesties that Joel Schumacher unleashed eight years ago.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love Batman, and I love this movie, because finally the spirit of Batman is alive on the big screen.

(Prior to this, the best adaptation would have to be Batman: The Animated Series produced in the early 90's. That also had amazingly sharp writing, and loads of style to boot.)

Revenge of the Sith was actually not as bad as I thought it would be. The action was well-choreographed for the most part, and I especially liked the lightsaber duel between Obi-Wan and Anakin at the end. Unfortunately, because of the atrocious dialogue, the movie still screamed to a halt every single time the dramatic or love scenes came on. Like it or not, most actors do not function well when forced to act in front of a greenscreen, and the sheer discomfort they felt was evident.

Another drawback to the omnipresent special effects were that they removed whatever connection you had to the characters or the story. The backgrounds were so fantastical they had to be CGI. Sure, they looked great, but you never really cared what happened. CGI fighter ship explodes because of CGI gunfire, throwing out a CGI pilot who spins off into CGI space. Seriously, who gives a shit? In fact the effects were so good as to be distracting. I remember spending quite some time in the over-long opening scene trying to guess what percentage of the action onscreen was actually non-CGI. I figure probably 10-20% at most.

Before the movie started, I tried so hard to be nice and forgiving, but unfortunately had to let out with a mirthful snort as soon as the opening crawl started moving up the screen. Any screenplay that begins with "War!" is probably headed straight down the rubbish chute in terms of writing. Ah well, Lucas never seems to learn.

I suppose the best thing I can say about it is that it didn't suck as bad as Episodes I and II.

And so it is. The end of an era for Star Wars, and the beginning of one for Batman. May the force be with him always.

Addendum: While re-watching Batman Begins, an NU friend of mine pointed out to me how well Chicago was used in the movie. And it's true, from the El to the underground streets, from the skyline to the damn Public Library (standing in for Arkham Asylum in an establishing shot), this movie does make full - and very cool - use of the city of Chicago. And that's another reason to love it.

Good Musical Memories

The musical ended its run early this week, and I was there closing night. It was a lot of fun, with tons of ad-libs flying about and much slamming of the slimy producers.

My favorites of the night (which make absolutely no sense when taken out of context):

- Does anyone know what day it is tomorrow?
- Payday!

- Come on, dancers! E~~~~~! W~~~~~~!

- You stole the job from my company, Fako Art!

- Oh, what the hell!
- Wah, you got breasts ah?

The post-show reception was suitably shitty because they were too cheap to get good food. Fortunately the sponsors' bar was good, and free. Ample liquor was consumed, and I stole a nice shot glass.

Before the show, my colleague was giving out T-shirts that he'd had made. They read: "I worked on ~~~ The Musical and all I got was this lousy T-shirt". Everyone loved them.

Funny incident:

Macho assistant stage manager (holding out his cigarette): I have to get a drink. Can someone hold this fag for me?
Me (grabbing hold of his wrist): Sure!
Mass hilarity ensues. I can't resist a good set-up. And this was such a perfect one. I mean, I didn't even have to try to get that laugh.

Another line that I regard as comedy gold, uttered at the post-show reception:
- SMS? SMS my cheebye!

I dropped my Billabong visor on the cab ride home, which sucked balls. Fortunately I got a receipt for my ride, and they were able to trace it. I'm picking it up tomorrow morning. Hooray.

Yes, working on the musical meant having to deal with more shit in a week than most people deal with in a month. But in the end, I think what I got out of it was worth it. It was a wonderful group of people to work with, and not just the cast. The crew (at least the competent ones) were all great, optimistic professionals forced to work under circumstances that were just too horrible to be believed. Yet in spite of this, they perservered and delivered. None of the mistakes of the show were their fault, everything could be traced back to the machinations of the producers. And hey, I guess it's kind of like being thrown into the deep end of the pool and left to fend for yourself. I'm glad I managed to keep afloat.

Some other highlights:

Chilling out at K's place after a performance one night. It was a truly beautiful shophouse in the East, completely refurbished inside, with lovely dark woods and antique furniture everywhere. I fell in love with it the moment I stepped inside, and would seriously kill for it. And of course, they were wonderful hosts, conversation was delightful, food was tasty, and alcohol and cigarettes were plentiful. What more can one ask for?

Standing in for the lead actor during a couple of rehearsals. He was too sick to come, and I had to fill in on a couple of full rehearsals. Even though I was only reading from the script and moving around trying to approximate his positions, it still felt good, since I hadn't done any real acting for a while. In Act Two there was one song (and it was the only one I knew how to sing) that I was able to sing on behalf of the musical director, who'd been filling in on the vocals, and I enjoyed doing that. Of course, being the attention whore that I am, I also loved surprising people with what I can do - He can act? He can sing? Oh my God. Hey, the only way you can get ahead in this line is if someone notices what you've done.

We said goodbye to the Stage Manager on Tuesday night. She was flying for Melbourne the next day. She's been a great joy, ever optimistic and loving, and I think she's really fallen in love with the place and the people in the few months she's been here. We'll be waiting for you when you return, may it be soon.

So yeah. Over and done with. All except for the post-mortem tomorrow afternoon.

Then it'll be dead.

Will there be a chance for us to take it abroad? I hope so. I certainly wanna do it, but only if we do it, and do it properly. Here's hoping.

Wedding Thoughts

I went to an ex-classmate's wedding almost a month ago. It was almost right after I almost-shaved my head.

No offense meant towards her, but man, I fucking hate weddings. Seriously. No offense. I'm just referring to weddings in general.

I hate that most of them are just so cliché-ridden and lame, that everyone's lazy and doesn't bother coming up with interesting, fun stuff. It's an event, and the purpose of an event is to entertain. Self-indulgent shit like showing your wedding pictures is just not going to cut it. Neither is crappy home video footage of the morning's events or the church service.

Why not a documentary involving candid interviews of the couple's families and friends? Imagine what funny anecdotes will be told, what dark secrets will be spilled, how many genuine, touching moments there can be.

And while you're at it, perhaps there could be performances by friends and family. Or hired performers like a band or standup comedy. Belly dancers. Martial artists. Fucking Cirque du Soleil. Hell, you're only limited by your budget. Remember, you want everyone to remember your big day forever, and not for how it was the most boring affair they ever attended. You want to be the talk of the office water cooler for years after, to have the wedding that everyone's inspired by, to be the final word in matrimonial celebrations.

Another thing I hate: what's with the over-dramatic entrance by the waiters for the first dish? If I have to sit through another instance of waiters strutting through darkened rooms holding candle-lit plates aloft to the strains of The Final Countdown, I will fucking kill someone.

If you wanna do that, how about having them rappel down from the ceiling a la Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible?

Drunk relatives should be a must at every wedding. You really feel their absence, it's just so much more boring without them. Fistfights are a bonus.

I also dislike giving red packets, mainly because I have so little money most of the time.

And finally, the thing I hate most about weddings is that they remind me of how pathetic my dating life is.

Anyway, I do have one thing I enjoy about weddings. They're a good excuse to dress up, and I like that, as you can see:





Yes, I am wearing the coat I got from the Niteskool shoot.

Finally, even though I maintain throughout this post that I hate weddings, I still wish her happiness always.

Weekend Rundown

5-star hotel stay: $443
New phone: $1398
Meals: $300 (?)
Miscellaneous shopping: $450 (?)
Booze: $?

Time away from everything (and I mean everything), in the company of good friends:
Priceless

Thanks for showing up and spending time with me. I needed that.

Today Is My Birthday (Too)

Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday to me-ee...
Happy Birthday to me.

That sounded rather sad.

Ah, fuck it. My default condition this weekend will be inebrietion. It will be good. Or if it isn't, I probably won't remember, which is good too.

The Trailer Hypothesis

Like movies, there are good and bad trailers. Basically, the goal of a trailer is to make you want to fork out your money to see the movie when it comes out in the future. Unfortunately, they are often so badly made that they tend to make me scurry for cover instead.

Trailers can pretty much be classified into several categories.

The Good - basically well-made and cool trailers, with good music. Intelligence is a wonderful bonus. A good example would be Trailer 3 for The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Hilarious, self-deprecating and very, very smart, it's probably the best trailer I've ever seen.

The Bad - the vast majority of trailers out there. Boring, lazily-made crap that's pretty much just a waste of time. Usually full of boring action cliches or unfunny infantile jokes. And then there are those that turn you off the movie entirely. Case in point, the House of Wax trailer makes the movie look completely stupid. If a town is not on the GPRS, you get the fuck out of there. If a museum is made entirely out of wax, you don't go in there. If a wax statue looks creepily lifelike and starts moving, you pretty much run like blazes. Why that moronic group stays is completely beyond me. Perhaps they're fratboys and sorority girls. The fact that Paris Hilton is one of them actually brings credibility to the plot.

The above two categories are pretty safe though, because what you see is pretty much what you get. If the trailer looks good, the movie is probably going to be good. If it looks shitty, a shitty movie is probably what you'll find if you stupidly pay for it. And if it looks absolutely ridiculously bad, like House of Wax, the movie will be dumb too.

There's one more category:

The Ugly - Evil trailers. They're nasty, sneaky, deceptive little products of canny editing. These are the trailers that make the movie look much better than it really is. You get sucked into the trailer, and when you go to the movie, you realize it's crap, and that you've just been conned. All you can do is shake your fist impotently at the producers who're laughing all the way to the bank.

Examples of these trailers include those for I Am Sam, Scary Movie and Pearl Harbor.

For I Am Sam, the trailer had the best moments, and the rhythm of the trailer was paced such that you really felt for the characters. In fact, I almost cried when I saw it for the first time. When I actually saw the movie, I almost cried too, but out of frustration. The powerful moments that had worked so well when juxtaposed against each other in the trailer lost all their potency when dissipated throughout the movie, and it was disheartening to realize the characters were all one-dimensional.

The Scary Movie trailer was funny as hell. Unfortunately all the best jokes were in it. Pearl Harbor's trailer had a great sequence of Japanese zero planes flying over defenceless civilians like a kid playing baseball and a housewife hanging her laundry. Too bad the movie was a lame love story. I still laugh out loud at the sex scene among the parachutes.

Unfortunately, there's no sure way to differentiate between a Good Trailer and an Ugly Trailer. Well, I admit, the presence of Michael Bay and Jerry Bruckheimer on Pearl Harbor should've been a dead giveaway. But often things aren't so evident. You just have to cross your fingers and hope for the best.

Good luck at the movies.

Red Freaks

Here are some pictures from a few weeks ago, after I just cut my hair real short.



The three of us just happened to be wearing maroon-colored tops on the same day. Really.

And yes, your eyes do not deceive you. I'm spreading the word of Studio 22.



And then there were three people wearing red shoes as well.

It was rather festive, like Chinese New Year or something, except half of us weren't Chinese.

This post really has no point, does it?

Today Is My Birthday

Today was my birthday.

Well, in the lunar calendar anyway. It was kinda sad.

Went for a TV comedy writing lecture in the morning. I was an hour late but didn't feel like I missed anything. I walked in on a discussion session, joined in one of the groups right away and immediately came up with some ideas. I also realized that most of the people who attend these lectures do it for a reason - they're not good enough. Perhaps I'm arrogant, but I honestly felt that they didn't do a quality check on their suggestions. Sure, in a situation where you're writing by yourself, you shouldn't censor your lame ideas. But in a group setting, I think one needs to crack one's brains a little more so that you don't waste other people's valuable time. Comedy needs to be big, big, big. Unless you're British, then you can get away with anything. People were thinking too small. A fallen toupee is hardly comedy gold. Ah well. At least the refreshments were decent.

Window shopping followed. I didn't have enough time to buy anything. Boo.

Edited till 10pm. It's starting to come together. I think I should have a decent cut in a day or two. Hooray.

And that was my day.

Actually, it's no wonder my day kinda sucked. It falls on a Chinese festival, which makes it easy to remember, but at the same time, it's not exactly the cheeriest of festivals.

Yep. Awakening dragons, human sacrifice, and a suicidal patriotic poet. Whoop-dee-fuckin'-do.

Happy birthday to me.

The Day Before

Yesterday was supposed to have been a full dress rehearsal. Didn't happen. Instead we got a four hour-long tech run. In itself, that's fine, but it only pissed us off because it was the result of problems that could've been solved earlier on, except for the gross incompetence of the producers.

What was mind-blowing was the meeting after. The "director", let's call him E, decided based on the recommendation of his partner - let's call him W - to put back a scene in which a character reveals he's been in drag all this while.

Now W is a businessman who's in this purely for profit. His "creative" contributions thus far (and I use the term very, very loosely - as loose as a 60 year-old gonorrhea-infected whore working the slums of Bangladesh) include sitting in the audience and singing along to every fucking song. W has not a single fucking clue what entertainment is about, and probably thinks Jack Neo's variety show is the epitome of humor.

I objected, based on the grounds that it was (a) nothing but a cheap joke, and (b) incredibly offensive. I'm not a prude. I think that the word "whore" is incredibly funny, and anything with "fuck" in it is automatically made funnier. Drag queens can be funny, but it's wrong to make fun of them just for being who they are. Unlike Christians, who can be made fun of just for breathing.

I make light of this now, but I was really angry last night when I said it. Everyone remained silent, because they knew it was a losing battle. It didn't matter, I wasn't fighting a battle, I was just letting them know how offensive they were being. Now that I think about it, I doubt they even know what the word means.

Now I'm getting to the best part. W got up and made a little speech. Basically he said he didn't go to musicals for the drama or the story, he went for the music and the singing and the dancing. Oh, and also to laugh, apparently. The dramatic scenes were too long and "draggy".

What a huge fucking insult.

If you wanted a concert you should've just produced a concert in the first place. How much time did we work on the actors? How much time and effort did they put into trying to find some motivation - any motivation at all - for the ridiculous lines which your partner wrote? And here you are, dismissing everything. If you want, just cut out all the acting bits. You'll be left with just the stuff you like anyway.

The very fact that he was allowed to say this to two writers was mind-blowing. We were trying so fucking hard to restrain ourselves from getting up and bashing his face to a bloody pulp.

Anything for a laugh, no matter how cheap it is. It's a sad world when I find myself stooping to a target demographic of four year-olds. Actually you don't even have to try with them, they laugh at anything. Anything fucking thing at all. I mean, look at babies. A bubble can generate mass hilarity.

When the music director spoke, I calmed down. He has an incredibly soothing voice. I still wanted to kill E and W, just not so violently. Maybe by slow poisoning or bloodletting.

When I got home, I didn't want to head upstairs that quickly. I needed a cigarette so badly, but I didn't have a light. I wandered around the neighborhood for a while, but didn't spot anyone. It was, after all, 1.30am. Finally I managed to bum a light off an Indian truck driver. He didn't seem to speak a word of English, but among smokers, certain signs are universal. He was so nice, he even gave me a spare lighter. While this wasn't enough to completely restore my faith in humanity, it certainly helped.

I've decided. Today shall be my last day. It's opening night, and if they make it tonight, everything else shouldn't be a problem. I was going to stay the weekend, but fuck it. It's just not worth it. Might as well get on with my editing, which I've neglected for the past few days. At least I'm getting paid extra for that.

A Sporadic Gasp

For the loyal readers of this blog, you may have noticed that I have been posted in sporadic gasps recently. Reason being I am too fucking busy and when I'm not, I'm too fucking tired to write.

Just over a week ago, I went on this shoot for a small production company. I was brought in by a colleague of mine, and I'm grateful for that. It was, quite literally, the largest-budget shoot I'd ever been on, somewhere in the region of S$2 million. While it is propaganda (kinda) meant to drive the message of total defence home to kids and such, it's still pretty cool. Basically we follow some people on an MRT ride, a bomb goes off in the train while it's at Raffles Place Interchange, and the rescue teams swoop in.

What was cool was that I got to operate camera for the first time in a really long time. Yes, it was only an XL2, but even that's pretty fun. I could basically shoot whatever the fuck I wanted, as long as it wasn't a shot someone else was already doing. We had six cameras running simultaneously, 50 extras, lots of blood, gore and smoke. It was fun.

And what was cooler, was that I got an editing job out of it. Granted, I can only go there after my real job, which makes me tired as hell, but at least I'm gonna be cutting some sweet footage. And since it's part of an installation-like piece that's running on five screens simultaneously, it'll be a lot of fun. Unfortunately the deadlines are rather tight, which means I will probably kill myself doing it.

After I got the job, I was pretty happy, since it meant both extra cash and something to look forward too. Casting wasn't exactly my cup of tea, you know. However, last Thursday, my life took a sudden turn when I was put on a S$3 million dollar musical.

Basically what happened was that these people had come to my company and offered to buy the rights to make a musical out of one of the most popular sitcoms on TV. I can't name names, but if you're Singaporean, you'll know what I'm talking about. God knows they run the ads often enough.

Anyway, the powers-that-be had been brought in, and they were horrified at what they saw. Horrified enough to bring in one of our directors immediately and put me on as his AD. We got there and it was literally a huge shitfest to clean up. Their "director" was basically a sleazeball producer who was just out to make a quick buck. He was, in two words, completely incompetent. The actors didn't know what the fuck they were doing, the tech stuff was all over the place, and everything that could be going wrong was going wrong. And yet, he was doing nothing about it.

The people he had were good people, but they could do nothing without his approval, and he was skimping on everything. The department heads, when he could get away with it, were all volunteers with zero experience. He got actors on the cheap, giving some of them only a minimal transportation allowance. He got choirs and kid actors from schools instead of the real deal. Basically he's been exploiting the name of the show and hooking desperate people in on the supposed "exposure" it'll give them. His dancers and orchestra were (and still are) filled with people from China, who didn't understand a word of English. He housed his China dancers in chalets. When I got there the first night, they were rehearsing in an abandoned warehouse with no air conditioning. Catering looked like it was provided by a school canteen. He was going to force a dancer to be a stuntman and fall from the second floor, which is one of the most unethical and irresponsible things I've ever heard of.

And don't even get me started on the script, which had gone through tons of drafts, each one progressively worse than the one before.

Even an idiot would know that this was not the way to run such a huge project. And basically, everyone has this question to ask: "Where the fuck is the S$3 million budget going to?"

I don't have an answer to that, but he's driving a new Jaguar. That oughta say something.

We talked to some theatre folk today, and apparently his entire career is a sleazefest. At this moment he's involved in a huge bribery scandel, and everyone in the scene knows he is someone to avoid like the plague. Unfortunately, someone at my company fucked up and thought it would be a good idea to work with him.

And now we're paying for it. It's been hell, we've had to re-work almost everything, but it's coming along as best as it can be. We only have a few days before the first performance, and hopefully, just hopefully, it'll all work out. In spite of him and his shenanigans.

I may not have any say on this, but I'm definitely advising the big brass on my end to sue. I don't know on what grounds, but I'm sure they can think of something. They are a corporation, after all. And guys like these, they don't deserve to live. I'd run him over any day without hesitation.

So that, in a nutshell, is what my life has been like the past few days. Did I also mention that I've been chain-smoking like never before?

Add the editing on top of this musical bullshit, and you get a very tired Cinewhore.

I've Got Big Beads...

...and nothing clever to say.

Oh, besides this:

Douglas Adams would've been proud.

I swear, when I saw the title "For Douglas" at the end of the movie, I got all sad and a little misty-eyed.

And it was a little bizarre watching it with people who had no idea what the book was like. They'd give comments like "It was so random," whereupon I'd give them the evil eye and perhaps a disdainful sniff.

Ah, well. Work beckons. Fuckity-fuck.