My Two Nights with Eros

Angeline and I initially tried to watch Eros - the anthology of erotic-themed short films by Wong Kar-Wai, Steven Soderbergh and Michelangelo Antonioni - on a Sunday night. There were relatively few people in the audience, it was probably only about a third full. The problems began almost immediately, but they weren't as apparent in the beginning.

As The Hand by Wong began, the people behind us started giving their comments. They seemed more interested by the fact that Gong Li was in this movie than in the movie itself, questioning, "What is Gong Li doing in a movie like this?" while she gives Chang Chen a handjob. Their accents instantly betrayed their origin - they were mainland Chinese, here to support their Gong Li.

Apart from a few short comments here and there, The Hand was still relatively uninterrupted. Then Soderbergh's entry Equilibrium came on, and once the English dialogue began, there was no stopping these people. Conversations started breaking out left, right and centre, and to our horror, we realized we were completely surrounded by mainland Chinese who'd really just come to watch the first segment.

The woman directly in front of me got a call on her mobile. She proceeded to talk to the other party - at normal volume. I asked her to please go outside. She ignored me. I repeated my request two more times. She finished her conversation, held up her clamshell phone, and slammed it shut, signalling her annoyance at this idiot who was apparently stupid enough to go into a movie wanting to actually watch it. Obviously she was there to listen to other people's phone conversations. Fucking bitch.

The people behind us started chattering. I asked them to be quiet. They continued. I asked again. They giggled.

By this time I was ready to explode, but for some strange reason, decided to hold it in. I really don't know why I did that. I should've just asked them all to leave. Or made them. Instead I reached for my phone and typed a message asking Angeline if we should go get replacement tickets for another day. We left.

I was rather nasty to the poor counter girl. It was unfortunate that she was the first person I spoke to, because she bore the full (actually it wasn't full, I was still controlling myself) force of my anger. We demanded, and got, our replacement tickets.

Typically I try to refrain from thinking negative thoughts about people of a certain race, or a certain nationality. It doesn't help to stereotype and put a label on a certain group of people. When people are passing judgmental remarks, I try to keep quiet. But sometimes, when things happen that really test my limits, I wonder if I'm not being too nice.

Mainland Chinese can come and take the top positions in our schools, I don't care. Seduce our decent men, become sex-industry workers, cheap labor, take our jobs, or perform any other stereotypical roles that they're said to do, I don't give a shit. But infringe on my movie-going experience, and you've crossed the line, buddy. You have fucked it up. You've pissed off one of the few people who were willing to give you and your countrymen a chance.

It's not that I hate mainland Chinese, I really don't. I tolerate them well enough. Hell, I even like some of them. But I think it's so completely fucked up that after several thousand years of civilization - arguably at one time one of the most advanced in the world - they can still be such uncouth, inconsiderate bastards. It's scary. I hate the kiasuism of Singaporeans, the narrow-minded, selfish trait that makes them think only of themselves, but often I've seen these Chinese out-kiasu the average Singaporean. What is going on here? Even a trait which we claim for our own is being usurped by them.

And don't even get me started on their inappropriate behavior, which was in full display during Eros. Normal people would be embarassed if their phones went off, or if they really had to take the call, they would do it outside. Normal people shut up when you tell them to in the theatre. Not them. They get angry at you. They laugh at you. They seem to think it's their God-given right to do whatever the fuck they wanted. Hell, they paid for the damn ticket. If you think that way, buddy, then please, go back to fucking China, or wherever the fuck you came from. I'll buy your plane ticket myself.

Enough ranting. Back to the movie in question.

We saw it again, on a Friday night. For some strange reason we missed the blinking light that signalled our theatre was being seated. After waiting for a while, we realized that the movie had started half an hour ago. How that could've happened, I don't know. Maybe we were abducted by aliens and lost a half hour of our lives.

"It's OK, we've seen the first one anyway," I said.

"But I really wanted to see it again!" protested she.

Ah well, c'est la vie.

Anyway, since I never mentioned it, The Hand was lovely, as are most Wong Kar-Wai films. But I'm his bitch, so my opinions are potentially skewed in his favor. Did I think it could be a little more subtle? Probably. More yearning needed? More character development? I guess so. But hey, it's gorgeous, and for him, style and mood tell half his story.

Equilibrium was good too, coming in a close second after Wong's entry. It's quite clearly un-erotic, and the nudity in a dream sequence seem to be thrown in more as a joke than anything. However, it's witty, quirky and amusing and Robert Downey, Jr. is great. The black and white cinematography was pretty too.

Antonioni's, however, was utter crap. It reminded me of Color Blossoms, but not as pretty. For reasons unknown some people argue, there's naked chicks in a waterfall, then there's some masturbation and sex, then naked chicks kind of dancing weird on a beach, and finally two naked chicks stare at each other. The whole incoherent mess is strung together by really, really bad dialogue - frankly, I've heard better dialogue in soap operas.

"I like old things."
"But I'm young."
"Is that an invitation?"

Couple arguing in the countryside:
"I just want some space!"
"You've got plenty of that here!"

Antonioni has done brilliant work in the past, my favorite being Blow-Up. Perhaps he got senile and horny and decided to make a soft-core porno, throwing in some pretentious crap just to make it look like art. The whole thing was just such an exercise in pointlessness and a complete waste of time and celluloid, it blew my mind.

But hey, I guess two out of three isn't too bad. At least I had a few laughs at the sheer idiocy of Antonioni's short. The Dangerous Thread of Things. Ha! Even the title is so fucking pretentious you can't help but mock it.