I've met with setbacks after setbacks in repeated succession.
Almost every area of my life received a blow and a spit in the face.
Triple whammy sounds like it...
Got.to.bounce.back.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Hello Term 6
Really not much to be happy about the past week or so...
BTs were one of the if not the worst exams of my life...
My team got thrashed by HC in our first fixture.
And I'm behind schedule with my tutorials.
And so the list goes on...
And compounding to the agony is a whole list of to dos...
Well can't complain I signed up for this shit...
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Recess Week
This one week of study break has been proving fruitful (sure it will).
Been training like a mad dog with the season round the corner...
Have also been putting some of my mind power on the NUS chancellor's shield semi finals.
Guess sometimes I'm so caught up with the chase that I tend to forget the important things.
Like in this case, studying for my upcoming Block Tests..
To me, everything worth doing is worth doing well. And I hope this is reflected in my results, whatever I'm currently pursuing.
Recently I've been fretting over my pursuit of perfection. It's the season where being capable and perfect would make up for my shortcomings. But if that's not going to happen maybe I'll just have to pay up by other means.
Going to swing into over drive soon...
And lets hope we win a couple of medals here and there.
TOFU out
Monday, March 15, 2010
Movie Review: 4.30
The core details first. Local film, independent/low-budget, directed by Royston Tan. Running time 90+ minutes. Quiet Singaporean drama revolving around a boy and a very foreign Korean man's weird relationship in a very empty house.
Depending on how impatient you are regarding films, you might either be frustrated by the film's slow pacing or you might tolerate it. One of the first shots of the film is a long take featuring our lead character, a pre-teen Chinese Singaporean boy named Xiao Wu, scrabbling around in the dark looking for something in a guy's room in the dead of night. That's practically all that happens for what feels like minutes afterwards, and we don't learn anything about what he was doing before we finally get to the next shot, which begs the question of why they held the bloody shot for so long.
Long takes, slow cutting, and generally serene pacing are the signatures of this film (I'm told it's a departure from Royston Tan's usual style). I think it's probably an experiment on Royston's part, because there are plenty of points where I found my attention wandering for lack of something happening. Music is used sparingly and not too much diegetic sound, so an audience is many a time left twiddling their thumbs waiting. That said, there are also scenes that use the long take well; for instance, it is used to communicate effectively the trappings of a classroom scene and that agonizingly empty and slow lonely feeling. As long as you're invested in the characters of the movie, the slow pacing should be an overall plus to your appreciation of it.
There are only two "real" characters, they hardly interact with each other, don't even speak the same language, and yet, they both bring something to the situation. Xiao Wu provides humour, mischief, and innocence as a counterpoint to the sordid themes, as the child character often does, but at the same time he is at the centre of much of the pain in the movie, being abandoned by his mother to live with a stranger that doesn't even speak the same language. The "Korean uncle" Jung, unhappy and distant guardian, although he does very little guarding, is the vague and fuzzy dream that us and Xiao Wu are feeling around for. In a hazy, timeless landscape where Xiao Wu has virtually no one and nothing, we are tantalized with few but intimate little details about this man who is just in the next room, but just can't talk to.
The movie focuses on Xiao Wu's numerous attempts to reach him, and Jung's ambiguous reactions, despite all the differences between them. Most of these attempts to connect are disguised as pranks, courtesy - but since these are the only times Xiao Wu's life brushes another, they feel sincere, treasured. As I grew depressed about Xiao Wu's empty, empty existence, Jung also became my little fixation, as he was pretty much the only person either of us saw - extended, contemplative shots were now filled with a bit of longing to become somehow closer, to make some real contact, to get some real conversation. 4.30 was quiet and dark. It took a while, but it got me.
Some credit has to go the the acting, too. Xiao Li Yuan (the boy) and Young-jun Kim (the Korean) do fine jobs, finer still when you take into account how difficult long takes are, in getting everything right. Sound, voices, are conspicuous in their sparseness, which only helps add to the impact of certain scenes when they are present. Overall it's a minimalist approach that eschews the usual heated dialogue and overly snaky plot that is common in local productions. At no point do Jung or Xiao Wu talk plainly about how they feel, and yet you manage to understand their isolation, their desperation.
Some may think 4.30 is mostly just a lot of tedious shots and an overly long short film (and they would have ample reason), but I could stand to defend it as an artistic triumph, an example of Singaporean cinema that doesn't rely on the easy tricks (horror, hot actresses, guns, tired slapstick, name actors, etc.). Not a movie designed for casual audiences, but I'm glad Tan stuck with it and didn't try to shoehorn anything in.
Also of note: To enhance the awkward relations between Jung and Xiao Wu, director Royston Tan forbid them from talking to each other. The one time this rule was broken, Royston canceled the shoot. Nice to see he's learning enforced method acting.
Depending on how impatient you are regarding films, you might either be frustrated by the film's slow pacing or you might tolerate it. One of the first shots of the film is a long take featuring our lead character, a pre-teen Chinese Singaporean boy named Xiao Wu, scrabbling around in the dark looking for something in a guy's room in the dead of night. That's practically all that happens for what feels like minutes afterwards, and we don't learn anything about what he was doing before we finally get to the next shot, which begs the question of why they held the bloody shot for so long.
Long takes, slow cutting, and generally serene pacing are the signatures of this film (I'm told it's a departure from Royston Tan's usual style). I think it's probably an experiment on Royston's part, because there are plenty of points where I found my attention wandering for lack of something happening. Music is used sparingly and not too much diegetic sound, so an audience is many a time left twiddling their thumbs waiting. That said, there are also scenes that use the long take well; for instance, it is used to communicate effectively the trappings of a classroom scene and that agonizingly empty and slow lonely feeling. As long as you're invested in the characters of the movie, the slow pacing should be an overall plus to your appreciation of it.
There are only two "real" characters, they hardly interact with each other, don't even speak the same language, and yet, they both bring something to the situation. Xiao Wu provides humour, mischief, and innocence as a counterpoint to the sordid themes, as the child character often does, but at the same time he is at the centre of much of the pain in the movie, being abandoned by his mother to live with a stranger that doesn't even speak the same language. The "Korean uncle" Jung, unhappy and distant guardian, although he does very little guarding, is the vague and fuzzy dream that us and Xiao Wu are feeling around for. In a hazy, timeless landscape where Xiao Wu has virtually no one and nothing, we are tantalized with few but intimate little details about this man who is just in the next room, but just can't talk to.
The movie focuses on Xiao Wu's numerous attempts to reach him, and Jung's ambiguous reactions, despite all the differences between them. Most of these attempts to connect are disguised as pranks, courtesy - but since these are the only times Xiao Wu's life brushes another, they feel sincere, treasured. As I grew depressed about Xiao Wu's empty, empty existence, Jung also became my little fixation, as he was pretty much the only person either of us saw - extended, contemplative shots were now filled with a bit of longing to become somehow closer, to make some real contact, to get some real conversation. 4.30 was quiet and dark. It took a while, but it got me.
Some credit has to go the the acting, too. Xiao Li Yuan (the boy) and Young-jun Kim (the Korean) do fine jobs, finer still when you take into account how difficult long takes are, in getting everything right. Sound, voices, are conspicuous in their sparseness, which only helps add to the impact of certain scenes when they are present. Overall it's a minimalist approach that eschews the usual heated dialogue and overly snaky plot that is common in local productions. At no point do Jung or Xiao Wu talk plainly about how they feel, and yet you manage to understand their isolation, their desperation.
Some may think 4.30 is mostly just a lot of tedious shots and an overly long short film (and they would have ample reason), but I could stand to defend it as an artistic triumph, an example of Singaporean cinema that doesn't rely on the easy tricks (horror, hot actresses, guns, tired slapstick, name actors, etc.). Not a movie designed for casual audiences, but I'm glad Tan stuck with it and didn't try to shoehorn anything in.
Also of note: To enhance the awkward relations between Jung and Xiao Wu, director Royston Tan forbid them from talking to each other. The one time this rule was broken, Royston canceled the shoot. Nice to see he's learning enforced method acting.
most of the time, we take things for granted. and we always want something else other than what we don't have. but maybe life is just like this and the grass is always greener on the other side.
i mean school's really killing me but perhaps the feeling of progression fits me better than stagnation.
because we all like to progress
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Of school and pride
Just thought I wanted to share some school mottos that I felt are really powerful stuff...
In no order,
The Best Is Yet To Be - Anglo-Chinese School
Nil Sine Labore (Nothing Without Labour) - Victoria School
Ora et Labora (Pray and Work) - Saint Joseph's Institution
Auspicium Melioris Aevi (Hope of A Better Age) - Raffles Institution
Up and On (Upward and Onward) - Saint Andrew's School
Naimatma Balheenien Labhya (Perfection Cannot Be Acheived By The Weak) - Modern School Delhi
I really like all these mottos as I think they all epitomize the strive and desire for excellence.
Of worth mention is the Victoria School's motto. "Nothing Without Labour" really is something I hope to live by.
In fact I think all these mottos are pretty good principles.
Here's to good mottos.
Friday, March 5, 2010
derp derp
I just heard that one of the teachers who accompanied us to India was fired last June for slapping a student. Guess who, hurr hurr.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
