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07 May 2026

SYFF 2027

SYFF 2027
About Singapore Youth Film Festival (SYFF) Presented by *SCAPE, the Singapore Youth Film Festival (SYFF) serves as a national platform celebrating the achievements of exceptional young filmmakers while fostering a deeper appreciation for local films and filmmaking. Established as the National Youth Film Awards since 2015, the Singapore Youth Film Festival (SYFF) builds upon its legacy of fostering award-winning filmmakers. By partnering with industry experts and educational institutions, SYFF will continue to inspire and nurture the next generation of cinematic visionaries in Singapore. SYFF 2027 KEY DATES School Exchange: July - September 2026 Call For Entries: 18 May – 2 August 2026 (Extended!) Cinema & Festival Talks: 11 – 21 February 2027 Award Ceremony & Bloc Party: 26 February 2027 (subject to changes) SYFF 2027 is presented by *SCAPE, in partnership with Objectifs Centre for Photography and Film. Expanding Opportunities and Honouring Excellence SYFF will continue to honour exceptional young filmmakers with its prestigious awards while expanding its scope to feature an array of film screenings, festival talks, and networking events. Dedicated to celebrating talent and fostering a community of like-minded enthusiasts, SYFF aims to instil a deeper appreciation for local films and youth filmmakers, nurture aspiring talents, and showcase and provide recognition for the achievements of all young filmmakers. A LEGACY OF NURTURING TALENT Since its establishment in 2015, NYFA has been pivotal in recognising and nurturing young filmmakers in Singapore. In its past nine editions of the awards, NYFA has introduced diverse award categories, implemented mentorship programmes, and expanded industry partnerships. These achievements have laid the groundwork for the evolution into SYFF, building on a strong foundation of excellence and innovation in youth filmmaking. Industry Collaborations and Community Building Through collaborations with industry partners, veterans, and educational institutions, SYFF strives to spark engaging conversations and further strengthen connections within the filmmaking community. By fostering a thriving community of young filmmakers and storytellers, SYFF is set to become a cornerstone of the local film scene, inspiring and nurturing the next generation of cinematic visionaries. Get Involved Be a part of SYFF and immerse yourself in a celebration of creativity and innovation: Submit Your Film: Showcase your talent and stand a chance to be recognised. Attend Programmes: Participate in festival talks, screenings, and networking sessions. Be a sponsor: Partner with us to empower young talents, gain visibility for your brand, and contribute to the growth of the local film industry. For sponsorship opportunities and more information, please contact us at syff@scape.sg. Stay Connected Whether you are an aspiring filmmaker, a film enthusiast, or an industry professional, SYFF offers something for everyone. Follow us at @scapesg on Instagram or join the SYFF Telegram Channel to stay updated and be part of this extraordinary celebration of youth, creativity, and the art of filmmaking. Explore SYFF 2027 Submit Your Short Film – Student Category Submit Your Short Film – Open Youth Category FAQ Terms & Conditions – Student Category (note: link not updated yet) Terms & Conditions – Open Youth Category (note: link not updated yet)
08 Nov 2024

Youth Inspiration Award 2024

Youth Inspiration Award 2024
About the award Established as the National Youth Film Awards since 2015, the Singapore Youth Film Festival (SYFF) serves as a national platform celebrating the achievements of exceptional young filmmakers while fostering a deeper appreciation for local films and filmmaking. SYFF builds upon its legacy of fostering award-winning filmmakers. The SYFF Youth Inspiration Award was introduced in 2019 to recognise and honour young industry professionals who have made exemplary contributions towards the filmmaking industry in Singapore. Mark Chua and Lam Li Shuen are presented this award in recognition for their innovative work across film and arts, along with their commitment to nurturing emerging filmmakers. Through their independent production studio and involvement in workshops and mentoring, they have made a significant impact to younger Singapore filmmakers. Through their work at various international film festivals, such as Berlinale, Locarno, and more, Mark and Li Shuen have been able to introduce their work and that of other emerging Singaporean filmmakers to a global audience. This international exposure has opened doors for many young filmmakers to showcase their work abroad. For their excellent body of work and commitment in nurturing the next generation, they are certainly deserving of this award. About the award recipient Mark Chua and Lam Li Shuen are a filmmaker and artist duo from Singapore. They met through forming an art rock group and started out making lo-fi underground films as self-taught filmmakers. Over the years of their partnership, they have carved out a cinema of speculative fiction and body horror, exploring existential anxiety, histories and alienation. Their films have screened at international film festivals including the International Film Festival Rotterdam (2024, 2023), New Directors/New Films (2023) and BFI London Film Festival (2021). In 2021, with their short film A Man Trembles, they were awarded Best Southeast Asian Director at the Singapore International Film Festival. Their feature film project in development, The Want, was selected for Berlinale Talents Script Station 2024. Chua and Lam have also presented expanded cinema performances with 16mm and Super 8 projections in Zurich and Singapore, and released multiple albums as the art rock duo ARE. In 2024, they started an artist-run analog film organisation, Film Nerve, focused on analog film experimentation as well as resource and knowledge sharing. Recipient’s Message Thank you SYFF for this award, it lifted our sullen spirits after yet another long night building things! It made us think of the events and screenings, from the cinematheque at NMS to AFA to SGIFF where we’d get inspired by films and people - some who would become dear dear friends. And sharing spirited moments with them, thinking up audacious ideas and mustering a collective courage to see them through! We’re thankful to have been there together and learnt how some courage and some lifting of each other’s spirits is a precious thing. It’s been a ride and a half so far making films. It can feel so hard in a world focused on packaging everything into a product. But it also feels liberating to unpack it all, and lay it all out like witnessing a dream that sequences our day-to-day experiences. One thing that vividly stands out about the whole act is that feeling of emerging with a new sense of things from another wearying adventure, thanks very much to the friends and collaborators who encouraged, built and conjured another adventure together. It’s always special getting to witness a new film. It makes us so happy to see fellow filmmakers with an idea that courageously had to be put to the screen. For us, the process of cinema can be both testing and nourishing all at the same time, all the time. But it’s what we love and we keep coming back. Let’s all keep coming back to what we love lah!
23 Jul 2026

#FilmFest Guide: TIFF 50

#FilmFest Guide: TIFF 50
In early 2025, I fell down the rabbit hole of r/oscarrace. There was something electric about the discussions around the awards season that made me want to be a part of the conversation. And — as I was soon to find out — there's nowhere better to experience the excitement surrounding the buzziest films than TIFF. What's TIFF? The Toronto International Film Festival is hosted by its titular city every September. Nicknamed "The People's Festival", it is widely viewed as the most accessible among the Big Five — Berlin, Cannes, Sundance, Toronto, and Venice. From catchphrases shouted during ads to high-energy midnight screenings, there is a definite culture around the festival. 2025 saw its 50th edition: TIFFTY. Tickets Time Tickets usually sell out in seconds by the time they reach the general public on Ticketmaster. This is because TIFF runs on a tiered system, with donors getting earlier access through a different platform. If you really want a ticket, scalpers abound on Ticketmaster and services like StubHub. The latter is riskier than official resales, though apps like goConfirm help to mitigate your chances of getting scammed. Note that Ticketmaster takes a cut from resale tickets, meaning resellers have to raise their asking price to avoid incurring a loss (presumably the case when I bought a Sirat resale priced ~CAD$10 (~S$9.20) higher than the original). On the first night of public sales, I got a grand total of one (1) ticket to an indie animation flick called Space Cadet (which happens to be screening for free at the ArtScience Museum!). Two days later, I snatched up Ralph Fiennes' The Choral and Ethan Hawke's Blue Moon during a sporadic ticket drop. But it wasn't until September 1st, three days from the start of the festival, when I secured the bulk of my wishlist during a massive ticket drop. As you can imagine, this process was an emotional rollercoaster. Despite reassurances from online veterans, I was dreading arriving in Toronto with half of my days empty. Tip #1: Turn on notifications on online forums like r/TIFF and Discord groups to get real-time updates on random ticket drops. Tickets originally reserved for guests are also known to drop on the day of a screening itself. But if you don't manage to nick a last-minute ticket, join the Rush Queue — a system where the first few in line are admitted up until 10 minutes into the show (though I managed to always be seated before the first scene). This got me into the season's hottest tickets, including Hamnet and It Was Just An Accident. The longest I queued for tickets was 3 hours, and the shortest was a measly 15 minutes. (Don't worry, strangers are usually just as happy as friends to hold your spot while nature calls — and the latter often become the former after hours in line together!) However, rush isn't a sure bet. A nighttime screening of Hamnet at a small hall let in zero people from rush, despite the queue starting early in the morning. Anyone can join a rush queue for free. Individual rush tickets (which you're prompted to buy if you're successfully offered a seat) went for a standard price of CAD$29 (~S$26.89), but you could also choose to make a one-time payment of CAD$80 (~S$74.36) for a Rush Pass. I recommend investing in a portable stool for long waiting times (a foldable one is best, since some venues have restrictions on baggage size). In general, I think that rushing is a good way to catch additional films that may not have been on your initial radar, but that you wouldn't be too upset to miss. Tip #2: If you're rushing for at least three films, buy a Rush Pass to make any subsequent entrances effectively free. Star Sightings If snapping selfies or copping signatures from your favorite star is your thing, TIFF organizes Fan Zones where you can line up outside theatres and catch celebrities before they enter screenings. These lines are ticketed but free on Ticketmaster. I personally prefer not to meet (or rather, interact with) my heroes, but even I was treated to the sight of Andrew Scott a meter away, chatting casually with a group of fans. Someone in the rush queue behind me for Left-Handed Girl ran off because there was a sighting of James McAvoy down the street. Outside of Fan Zones, cast and crew typically show up for the first screening of a film at TIFF, especially if it is a world premiere. The festival releases a guestlist right before the first day, but there's no guarantee on who will show up when. For example, Ralph Fiennes had a scheduling conflict for The Choral, while Hikari attended every screening of Rental Family. My favorite experience was seeing Alexandre Desplat alongside Guillermo Del Toro at the second showing of Frankenstein — I love the scores he pens for Wes Anderson flicks. Food If you're going for the full festival experience, you can probably go light on your food budget. I can count the number of times I ate at a restaurant on one hand. For grab-and-go, the hot food aisle at the Asian supermarket Bestco was a lifesaver. There's even a bubble tea shop downstairs! It's a short walk from the theatres, and new enough that it wasn't overwhelmed by locals. There are also concession stands at Scotiabank (which sells poutine) and a bar at Lightbox, Varda. Tip #3: Bag checks happen at each venue — but they vary in strictness. Roy Thomson Hall is known to veto even water bottles. Staying & Going This was my first time in Canada, but I felt reasonably safe traveling solo, even when cabbing alone at 3am (for the Midnight Madness screening of Dust Bunny). Prices are notoriously elevated during the festival period. Because I booked my accommodations only in mid-August, the only hotel that remained within budget was up in Thornhill, a full hour away from the theatres in downtown Toronto. Festival veterans have been known to book flights and lodgings a year in advance. Splurging on the likes of the Ritz-Carlton or Shangri-La even increases your chances of running into celebrities in the lobby. Lixin's Top 5 Disclaimer: These are, of course, personal takes. Some of these are Hollywood productions with big names attached, while others are indie gems I was shocked to discover featured newcomers to the craft. #5: Primavera (dir. Damiano Michieletto) This staunchly feminist film debut by an operatic stage director sets its stage in 18th-century Venice, where an orphaned convent girl forges a bond with her instructor Vivaldi (the baroque musician of "The Four Seasons" fame). Admittedly, I have a weakness for the historical genre (a taste you will see reflected elsewhere in this list), but this one stayed with me for such a long time that I dedicated a full review to it. Its unflinching portrait of classist and patriarchal historical Venice elevates the tender, shifting relationship between the two leads into something truly special. Primavera was released in its native Italy on Christmas Day 2025, and is opening across Europe in 2026. As of the writing of this piece, no news about distribution in Singapore is available. #4: Rental Family (dir. Hikari) A bilingual drama featuring Academy Award winner Brendan Fraser as a gig actor in Japan who freelances at an eponymous rental family agency, it's a crowd-pleaser that hits all the right notes. The titular unique odd-job setup brings a veneer of freshness to the tried-and-true formula of a sentimental drama. During the Q&A, director Hikari (of Beef fame) mentioned that Brendan Fraser learnt Japanese for the role — impressive! Rental Family opened wide in Singapore on 22nd January 2026, after premiere screenings at SGIFF 2025. #3: The Testament of Ann Lee (dir. Mona Fastvold) Mona Fastvold, one half of the power couple that brought us The Brutalist, takes the director's chair for this experimental biography of an 18th-century female leader (of a cult). It is difficult not to respect the efforts behind this ambitious epic brought to life by visuals straight out of an oil painting and rapturous, avant-garde musical numbers. Amanda Seyfried toils as the titular historical religious leader, whose relationship with her devoted younger brother provides the emotional heart of the film. It is disappointing that despite being distributor Searchlight's main priority this year, this film failed to garner industry awards. Mona Fastvold and Lewis Pullman showed up at the post-screening Q&A, and they were both so lovely and soft-spoken. As of this time, there is no local or streaming distribution information regarding The Testament of Ann Lee. #2: A Poet (dir. Simón Mesa Soto) I got in line for this on a whim, only to be utterly floored by this modern Colombian tragicomedy. A failed poet experiencing a midlife crisis discovers a talented student, but his attempts to mentor her may not lead to redemption. Funny, sad, and profound all at once, A Poet's tonal shifts are immaculately executed. I was surprised at how relatable its depiction of the local arts scene was, with its hypocrisies, political pandering, and easily toppled pedestals. It is unbelievable that this is apparently the main lead's first role, and the director's sophomore feature film. Random strangers I spoke to on the last day of the festival agreed that this was one of the highlights of their festival. Anticipate Pictures holds Singapore distribution rights for A Poet. No release dates are currently available. #1: Train Dreams (dir. Clint Bentley) The TIFF programmer introduced this film by emphasizing how lucky we were to be watching this on a big screen, and I cannot agree more (although it is definitely still worth watching on streaming). Every single frame, presented in a conspicuously square-ish 3:2, could be hung on a wall. Train Dreams is the beautifully poignant story of the long life of a 20th-century everyman logger. If its slow cinema-esque synopsis is making you hesitate, please take a chance on this one anyway: because I never imagined connecting so deeply to a film of its description either. Despite the tragedies which haunt the protagonist's long life, it miraculously manages to be a tear-jerkingly life-affirming and environmentalist film. Train Dreams is streaming on Netflix as of December 2025. Enjoy the Experience! I watched 18 films over 10 days at TIFF 50 — everything I wanted to catch (except one — a film for which I had No Other Choice but to wait for the Singapore release) and then some. Out of my favorite five, only two were on my watchlist from the start. All but one will likely never receive a wide release in Singapore. It also raises the question of how the festival experience can shape one's reception to films. When you're watching two or three films a day, they can start to blur into each other. I wonder if I might have rated No Other Choice and The Secret Agent differently if I'd seen them at TIFF instead of back home in Singapore. I arrived in Toronto not knowing anyone from the city, but left with interesting conversations and even friends from rush queues and seat neighbors. The TIFF volunteers are also happy to take photos for you, which is how I have digital keepsakes too. My experience at TIFF 50 was eye-opening, and it deepened my interest in film. I'm looking forward to attending more festivals in the future!
10 Jun 2026

Interview with Ben Tan Kai Xiang: Mountain Mountain

Interview with Ben Tan Kai Xiang: Mountain Mountain
In February, I had the distinct pleasure of speaking with Ben Tan Kai Xiang, co-director, co-writer, and co-editor of Mountain Mountain, my favorite film at SYFF 2026. Speaking to me surrounded by boxes and boxes of vinyl records, Ben struck me as an incredibly thoughtful artist, for whom the act of creation is an immensely personal act. Below is our conversation, edited for length and clarity. Fengyu (FY): This film, Mountain Mountain, was your Final Year Project (FYP) at NTU. Do you see it as a culmination of your work at NTU in any way? Ben Tan (BT): I think so? Grace [Cheu Li Qing, Bryan’s co-director on Mountain Mountain] and I have been working together for quite a while, so it was a culmination of a few things we wanted to do, like experimenting with medium. We come from a traditional painting background, and we wanted to incorporate that into the art style. Also, we were trying to tell a very weird, non-linear, very Singaporean story—a story that felt both authentic and interesting to us. FY: As you said, this isn’t your first collaboration. You also made another film together called Goodbye Old Fish. How did you start working together? What does your collaborative process look like? BT: Well, Grace and I used to date (laughs). We’ve also always liked each other’s work, and so we’d help each other with our separate projects, but Goodbye Old Fish was the first time we actually produced a piece of work together, the first time we had to lay everything out there—our creative ideas, but also our egos, our pride—and get into the nitty-gritty of what’s important to us and figuring out the entire creative process. FY: That sounds like a rewarding challenge. Has the collaboration gotten easier? BT: It’s definitely been easier. Goodbye Old Fish was pretty rough. Both Grace and I see ourselves more as directors than specialists. She knows what qualities the film needs to have to feel authentic to herself. It’s hard to have two people like that working together, especially for your first film! I was also a bit younger, and had a bit more of an ego and felt like I had to prove myself. So we butted heads a little. You always think everything’s at stake when honestly nothing is, and you should just have fun. After all that I had some time to look at myself and go, “Yeah, I was a bit of an asshole.” And so things were a lot smoother on Mountain Mountain. I think the biggest takeaway I had is to just let the person cook! She might show me something and even if it looks weird, I’d just let it be. It’s fermenting. The first draft might not necessarily be the final product; it’s about trusting the process and your partner. That’s very, very important. FY: I wonder if there’s maybe more space in indie animation for things that “look weird.” To me, what gets recognized in the broader public and at the most prestigious levels, say the Oscar for Best Animated Feature, sometimes lacks the vibrancy that’s at the heart of indie animation. At smaller indie animation screenings, I’m always inspired by how there are filmmakers who are really pushing the form. How does innovation or experimentation play a role in your own identity as an indie animator? BT: My perspective has shifted a bit since I graduated. Personally, I always want to push the medium forward, whether from a storytelling perspective or giving voice to issues that aren’t as prevalent. My pet peeve is that Singaporean films lack “Singaporeanness”. They’re either super “Singapore”, Jack Neo-esque, or not Singaporean at all, often fantastical or detached from a location. I feel like there’s a nice middle ground, for people to tell the stories they know and that they’ve lived themselves. My pet peeve is when people tell stories that they don’t “own”—as a director, lived and embodied experience is important in the stories I tell. Visually, too, experimenting with a mix of traditional and digital styles has been important to me. But a business is very different from an independent animator. It’d be difficult to expect these big businesses to adopt something so niche. It’d be cool but a little unfair. FY: That makes sense. Maybe it’s the idea that they have, justified or not, that they need to cater to as broad an audience as possible for commercial viability. Your point about Singaporeanness—I feel like it’s core to not just Mountain Mountain, but even one of your earlier animations, Day Trippin’, which you made while on exchange in Brisbane. It’s recognizable to a fellow Singaporean, but it doesn’t feel like an outfit the film is trying on. The line “There are no mountains in Singapore” in Mountain Mountain really moved me, as someone who is still trying to navigate my relationship with this country, having just moved back from four years of college overseas. What does Singapore mean to you, both personally and creatively? What are the mountains that you can’t find in this country? BT: Singapore is home for me. No matter how you try and detach yourself, there’s a sense of familiarity and safety. It’s where my life is. It’s like family. Creatively, it’s also where I have my roots. I did a lot of work for Finding Pictures as an intern. The people I’m grateful for, who’ve shaped my thinking and my creative identity to some degree, are all here. And of course my friends are all here. In terms of the mountains that aren’t here… honestly, I’m quite a simple person. I think Singapore has a very small art industry, so the opportunities are quite limited, especially for independent film, but I tend not to focus on what’s lacking. I guess it’s just a product of how I live my life. I focus on what I have and I make the most of it. As a culture, I think art has a long way to go in Singapore; the history is very, very brief, so we have a long way to go in terms of how the Singaporean identity can be distilled through the visual medium. I think the younger generation “gets it,” so maybe things are changing. I hope they are. FY: I hope so too. I also think it’s artists like you who are actively writing the legacy of the Singaporean art scene. Beyond Singaporeanness, a lot of your work also finds its beating heart in childhood memories; how do you think about nostalgia as a creative force? How much of your characters live within you, or vice versa? BT: You could spend five years researching this (laughs). Mark, one of the founders of Finding Pictures, once said that nostalgia can be kind of clichéd, and you don’t want to overuse it. I don’t like using it for its own sake. I’m a very personal and intimate filmmaker, and also quite intuitive in my art, and naturally when you draw from your own past, nostalgia will be a part of it, but in a beautiful way that doesn’t need to show itself. A lot of my characters are extensions of myself, or of people I know. In Mountain Mountain, for instance, Valerie is loosely based on someone we know from NTU, and Charlotte, the other main character, has elements of Grace herself. When we were writing the script, I just imagined what Grace would say and how she’d behave. A lot of the voice actors are my family and Grace’s friends—my mom and my sister are both in the film—so I would say a lot of myself, both literally and conceptually, are invested in the things I make. I don’t know any other way to do it; I’ve never done it any other way. And so far it’s been working pretty well. And I enjoy the work, which is what’s most important to me. FY: I can feel it. Nuances and subtleties that slip in, not even consciously. BT: It’s like watching an inside joke that you don’t understand. I love seeing something that feels authentic, even if it doesn't immediately make sense to me. FY: Congratulations on winning best editing for Mountain Mountain at SYFF! It’s so well-deserved because the film accurately captures the disjunctiveness yet overall cohesion of childhood memories. What is your process in putting together a script like this? Do you write the script in its entirety first, or do certain images or scenes serve as launching pads to build the film around? BT: You kind of nailed the description. Grace and I were inspired by Hayao Miyazaki, who has an intuitive approach to storytelling. The two of us go back and forth between writing the script and thinking of images, using the story as a thread to weave everything together. We don’t write in order, and when we land on something that feels key to the film we’ll find ways to put it in and tie it together. For instance, the scene with the gopher screaming below the mountain was initially a fun experiment, and then we found it worked as a good transition between scenes. FY: Congratulations, too, on releasing your first EP as BenTan in December! I really love the art you made for the tracklist. You also made a visualizer for the song “I Don’t Care,” and, excitingly, a live-action lyric video for “Take A Walk.” How does it feel to bring your different passions and talents together in this way? BT: I don’t really think about the difference! It’s all about the act of creation, and I used to call myself a polymath, but now I think about it as all part of my artistic practice. They all naturally grow out of what I’m interested in. For “Take A Walk,” Valecia, my girlfriend, is also an artist and does animation, and so we made that together, so that was even more personal for me. FY: That’s so cute. Would you do more live-action? What’s next for you? BT: Definitely applying for jobs (laughs). I’ve also been working on my website. And yes, Valencia and I are possibly also going to work on a short film together. FY: That’s so exciting! I can’t wait. About the Author: An avid consumer of all kinds of art, and an occasional dabbler in creating said art, Fengyu enjoys writing about film as a way to express their love of the medium through close attention. Having graduated last year from Brown University after double majoring in Film and Political Science, they are based in Singapore for the time being, attempting to find a way to balance their twin passions. You should bug them on Letterboxd at @fengyu33.
23 Jul 2026

“A Certain Degree of Impermanence”: An Interview with Filmmaker Wong Chen-His

“A Certain Degree of Impermanence”: An Interview with Filmmaker Wong Chen-His
City of Small Blessings (2024) charts retired school principal Prakash’s (Victor Banerjee) desperate, self-righteous fight to keep his house from being demolished for a new MRT line. By turns funny and meditative, the film is a sustained character study of a man torn between self and country, pride and humility, past and future. Adapted from Simon Tay’s novel of the same name, the film is Singaporean director Wong Chen-Hsi’s second feature after the self-produced Innocents (2012). Wong also sits on the advisory committee for the Singapore Film Commission and teaches film at Nanyang Technological University, where I had the privilege of taking one of her classes. I spoke to Wong about making City of Small Blessings, representing the civil service on screen, living in an ever-changing city and more. Soh Yong Xiang (SYX): City of Small Blessings was developed all over the world: at Torino FilmLab, Cannes Cinefondation l'Atelier and Venice Production Bridge. How did this international collaboration shape your film? Wong Chen-Hsi (WCH): The lab experience was a first for me. It was very enjoyable, because you get exposed to a lot of people who are working at the top of the film world, and it was great to meet all the other international filmmakers who were in residencies with me. But if you’re asking about international collaboration, it’s really the production team that I worked with. I think what was particularly unique about it is that, even though it was made in Singapore and it is a Singaporean film, a lot of the key crew were not Singaporeans. So Fran [Borgia], the producer, is Spanish, and he’s lived in Singapore close to 20 years. Hide [Hideho Urata], the cinematographer, is Japanese. James [Page], the production designer, is from the UK, also has lived in Singapore many years. And of course, the lead actor, Victor Banerjee, he's Indian. So I think one of the things that made this interesting was that it was shaped by a lot of collaborators who were able to see Singapore with a little bit of distance. And I think that gave it additional layers and nuances that contributed to the film. SYX: I’m curious about this “little bit of distance”. Was there a different way that your team saw Singapore that made it into the film? WCH: I think it’s very hard for me to speak for them. But I myself spent more than 10 years in the U.S. So when I first came back, that sort of distance allows you to latch on to different things. For example, the Singapore civil service, which is featured quite prominently in this film, is not the sort of natural thing that you would want to make a film about. But Singapore as a sort of state organism… that is a very interesting thing. There were also some other thematic elements in the film. This idea of generational discord, of a generation that wants something different out of life and has decided to move away. This sense of a very small world that is evaporating, which is also accelerated by globalization and change. I think maybe people who have lived between countries, between worlds, may understand these spaces and find a little bit more resonance. SYX: That leads well into another question I had about the Singapore civil service and how it’s an unusual thing to make a film about. What inspired you for the character of Prakash? He is an elderly, English-educated civil servant, and that's not really the type of Singaporean character we see often. WCH: That goes back to Simon’s book. I was very much drawn to the book because of the idea of questioning the nature of home, and the idea of discontented modernity. The fact that all the promises of modernity and progress don’t necessarily play out at the individual level the way they’re supposed to. Also, I really liked his main character because he struck me as somebody who was extraordinarily flawed. And I really leaned into this idea of a very flawed protagonist: somebody who is very stubborn, who can be quite dogmatic, who really is not always the nicest person. But at the same time, I like that even though he sort of wants to be seen as a man astride the world, he’s actually just human like everybody else, right? And of course, it was somebody who had lived his life in civil service. As I started to develop the film I realized that, if we’re representing the state and the nation, it’s not a blank wall. It's composed of a lot of individuals. I realised that this world of the civil service is also another niche or liminal aspect of Singapore. As with all my other films, I like liminal spaces. SYX: What do you mean when you say that the civil service is a liminal aspect of Singapore? WCH: Liminal in the sense that the civil service is very deeply intertwined with our constructions of the Singapore state, but we very seldom see it represented on screen. Of course, the civil service dominates Singapore. At the same time, when we do see it on screen, we have very stereotypical representations. But in reality, there are also a lot of little nuances — people who are hovering at the edges of it, people who are more entrenched in it, people who think they have access but actually don’t, and vice-versa. That nuance is maybe something that not everybody sees. It’s easier to just see it as a monolithic face. SYX: This thing about trying to portray something in a more authentic way, rather than a stereotype, I think that also links to the language of the film. You mentioned in class that you intentionally chose to write it in English. I wonder if you could share about that? WCH: I did intentionally write it in English. Very early on, I felt that I wanted a multi-racial character to the film. There are quite a lot of representations of Singapore in our dialects, in non-English languages, and yet English is a dominant language. It’s not just a language of instruction or the language of government, which of course makes sense for the film, but also a lot of people really speak English, in varying degrees of Singaporean accents and Singlish. It is our first language. And I wish we could see that more often on film as an authentic representation of our culture. But if I go back to this idea of representing this multiracial couple, it made sense to me that they would both be English-educated. Our English is also a sort of amalgam of a whole bunch of different influences. Catholic school English sounds very different from Anglo-Indian English, which also sounds quite different from a Chinese businessman’s English, which sounds radically different from Singlish. So for me that was a bit of a personal project, to get right the different ways in which English has come to us, and in a way represent the different communities that comprise Singapore. SYX: I think you also mentioned that there was a specific accent that you wanted Victor Banerjee to have, like a schoolmaster you wanted him to emulate. WCH: Victor Banerjee, he is really an iconic actor. And when Fran suggested approaching him, I said, good grief, there's no way somebody of his stature is going to agree to play this film. But I thought, okay, worth a shot. So I flew out to Calcutta with a script in hand, and we met up, and he took me to his club. And we chatted on the veranda and talked about the film and life and all sorts of things. And he agreed to do it, which was absolutely amazing. I think part of it was that he connected with the character. India also has gone through an extraordinary amount of change, certainly within his lifetime as well. I assume that, at a certain point in life, you also start looking back on what you leave behind. In terms of the preparation for the film, I went to one particular school and dug around in the archives, and they very kindly loaned me some speeches of ex-principals. I picked one or two people that I felt were really correct. Then I sent a copy over to Victor and I said, I want you to sound like this guy. And he said, Okay. And when he came back, he sounded like this guy. SYX: Since we’re talking about Victor and his character, I wanted to ask about the portrayal of Prakash’s body. Especially this one shot that I found really interesting, where he argues with his wife and it cuts to him using toilet paper to wipe stains off the floor. I was wondering about the choice to portray him in this way — like it was taking him down a peg, but at the same time, you feel sympathetic to him. WCH: I think that’s a good way of phrasing it. Because this man encapsulates hubris, and some people may find him very off-putting. But again, you know, he’s still human. In the end, the whole film really is about the deterioration of this man. It's a deterioration of his psyche, but it’s also physical deterioration. He’s an old man, he cannot control himself very well. But also, I thought it was a good insight into how emotionally destabilised he is by his fight with his wife. While he seems like he’s being quite abusive towards her, he’s not unaffected by it. SYX: I also wanted to ask about the house itself, which in a way becomes its own character within the film. One thing that struck me was that the house is full of unopened cardboard boxes. It seems really strange to me because this is a place that he's fighting so valiantly to keep, but it's also a place that’s not fully lived in. WCH: You’re absolutely right, it’s not really his house. Psychologically he’s never committed to the finality of it. This is somebody who’s been living in between. He gave up his ancestral house, moved into this house, is about to have to move again. His son has moved away, doesn’t want to come back. So, you know, this is a family that somehow has come to live with a certain degree of impermanence. And I guess for me also, this instability was maybe a sort of underlying motif in the film. In a way, I think him trying to get his son to come home is about wanting to find permanence. But the larger question is if there really is such a thing as permanence, right? In a world that’s evolving at the speed that it is, I don’t know if that’s really possible. And certainly, his son has embraced that. The son has embraced migration. The son has embraced movement. SYX: It’s interesting that they’re a family that has a lot of privilege, yet in spite of that aren’t able to have that permanence. Do you think that there is a link there between their social position and the lack of permanence? WCH: That’s a really interesting question. I guess very often “class” is considered a bit of a dirty word, or people are scared to go near it. What is unusual about this is that, yes, it’s a family that had a certain degree of privilege, but they’ve lost it. We’re talking about a family that has become downwardly mobile. I think that’s certainly also tied to why Prakash refuses to accept the circumstances that are soon to be visited upon him. SYX: Though the film deals with all these heavy topics, the humour is a really important part as well. Like the scenes where Prakash is sending the complaint emails to MPs — that got a big reaction from the audience in the theatre. I was wondering about the process for putting humor into the film, especially since those email scenes could easily become quite static. WCH: The book was an epistolary novel, which was something that I really struggled with translating to the screen. In fact, in one of the early cuts, we had taken out 80% of the email scenes. But I felt like somehow that was creating this weird gap in the story, and the descent into madness didn’t feel organic. So we worked very hard to put back the e-mail scenes. I was very hesitant about one of the craziest ones, where he’s talking about Dante’s Inferno. But one of the editors, Ivy [Chin], absolutely insisted that I keep it in. And she was right. The funny thing is that there are quite a few people who have come up to me and said, Oh my God, we know somebody exactly like this. Or I have friends also who will say, you know, I have been on the receiving end of these emails, I get these people emailing me who cc the entire board of directors. It’s actually a very Singaporean thing to do, right? Complain to your MP. SYX: I guess Prakash is just an uncle at the end of the day as well. He has that uncle impulse to complain. Now,I also want to ask about the way you portray the environment in the film. Specifically, there's that one part where he leaves the house and wanders around the city, to the condominium that has replaced his ancestral house. What was interesting to me was that the colours are very different. When he’s at home, it’s all very warm, then when he’s in the urban landscape it's all very cold and clinical. What made you choose to portray the environment in this way? WCH: One of the decisions had been that the portrayal of the home should be quite golden. I mean, you want his home to feel like when it disappears, something precious is disappearing. As for that particular sequence in the city, one part of it was due to production realities. It started raining, so it ran a little cooler. But we embraced the rain because this idea of rain was also a part of Singapore. And so sun/rain, sun/rain was a sort of rhythm that I thought was important. And I had also structured that scene as pushing a little bit into dusk; we tried to have a lot of the film pushed into dawn and dusk. For me, this idea of sun/rain and dawn/dusk was the way in which I sensed time kind of moving on. That was also an underlying idea in the film, that this man is not trying to stop time, but is very aware that time is passing. SYX: The other thing regarding the way that the environment was filmed was this term that your cinematographer, Hideho Urata, mentioned, about the “tropical melancholy” of Singapore. And I was wondering if you had any thoughts on that specific idea, because it’s so poetic. WCH: I think you have to ask Hide. That sounds like a very Apichatpong kind of term. What I can say is that I wanted to represent Singapore authentically. People have had lots of discussions about light — that our light is always very harsh, very directional, sometimes very blown out, and it’s not very cinematic on many levels. So how do you represent Singapore authentically, but in a way that’s also quite beautiful? But I think Hide did a beautiful job in terms of the quality of light he brought to the film. I don’t know whether that's tropical melancholy or not, but it felt like Singapore. I think the other aspect that maybe is not picked up so much is the sound design. We spent a lot of time making sure that the sound felt very authentic. So maybe the lushness that people sense in the film is actually coming from the sound, not just visuals. SYX: Can you tell me more about the sounds that you recorded? One of my friends in the environmental science program here in NTU mentioned that he picked up on very specific birds in the background of the film. WCH: We recorded all the environments. Justin [Loh], the sound recordist, went off into the forest to record the ambient sounds, same with the cemetery. We were also very careful to get the crickets and cicadas correct, one is day, one is night. I was quite specific about where I wanted to hear the lizards, you know the ‘cicak’, and frogs, because you get frogs at night as well. There’s the koel, which only calls in the morning. So there were these very specific sounds that I was keen to put in as documents of a particular Singaporean landscape. Xander [Toh], the sound designer, he did a brilliant job of making sure that the perspectives and the layers came in just right. [Teo] Wei Yong also had a wonderful score, because one of the things that he likes to play with is found sounds; we had a lot of found sounds in the score. So the whole thing was quite cohesive in terms of all the different elements of sound. SYX: That’s quite beautiful. The film leans so much into the inevitable passage of time, yet also serves as a time capsule capturing the sounds and the sights of Singapore. It’s a pity that, after premiering at the Singapore International Film Festival in 2024, the film hasn’t been more widely available. I was very lucky to have caught a screening as part of last year’s Singapore Writers Festival programming. I was wondering if there were any plans to distribute the film more widely. WCH: I don’t know, obviously commercial distribution is very difficult right now. I think we will try to continue having the film come out in small screenings. I want the film to be seen and discussed, you know? Actually, we did a private screening last year to civil service leadership. I have never screened any of my films in an environment like that. A very interesting screening, as you can imagine. SYX: Thank you so much for your time and your honesty. I think I’ll end it here, but I’ll say that I’m really looking forward to what you make next. WCH: Yes, thank you for coming to the screening. Take care. City of Small Blessings premiered in competition at the Singapore International Film Festival 2024, and was produced by Akanga Film Asia.

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