Hokkaido Selection @ Sapporo Short Fest 2012

The beauty of a film festival is the opportunity to attend screenings of films that I might not be able to catch anywhere else in the world.

Over here in Sapporo Short Fest, I made sure I went to the "Hokkaido Selection" program screening, which featured short films that were either made by filmmakers from Hokkaido, or short films made in Hokkaido.

The 1st LAST FRAGMENTS OF WINTER screening @ Sapporo Film Fest 2012

An interesting thing about the Sapporo Short Film Fest catalog is that it includes photos of composers too. The only film festival I know which does such a thing, which is cool, film composers deserve a lot of love. So you can see the photo of my long-term collaborator and high school pal Wong Woan Foong in the Last Fragments of Winter entry.

Arriving at the Sapporo Short Film Fest 2012 opening ceremony

Yesterday morning, I made my way from Narita to Sapporo. My dad has joined the fun as well.

My eloquent tweets pretty much covered most of the trip.

Off to Hokkaido, a place I often fantasize and romanticize

While I am writing this, it is already 4am in the morning. At 11:30am, I will be flying off to Sapporo in Hokkaido for the Japanese premiere of LAST FRAGMENTS OF WINTER in Sapporo Short Fest.

This mysterious pile of CDs I have been going through...

Been writing the past few nights. I cannot stand the silence, therefore I always need to be accompanied by music.

I have a rather extensive playlist on my iPhone, but for the sake of not getting distracted, I usually chuck my phone aside whenever I go somewhere else for a writing session.

Which means that I was left with the music that I have in my computer. Sadly, they are not as extensive. After a few nights of listening to just the Cocteau Twins, I needed some alternatives.

Last night, I decided to go through the pile of CDs I have accumulated in the past four years since I came to Tokyo.

On Borges, Eco, Calvino, Marquez... and McDull

I never forgave my secondary school for banning us from bringing novels to school. That is why I constantly speak about it.

Back then, unable to accept such a rule, I occasionally brought a book to school for some reading pleasure. Alas, the school prefects deemed me, a guy who was just sitting at the corner, quietly reading a book, a threat to school safety, thus my books were sometimes confiscated.

I had to write eloquent letters to the prefects just so I could get them back.

That is why, in some of my angry rants over the years, I couldn't stop blaming the local education system for not emphasizing the importance of literature and culture to its students, that we lived merely to score well academically, that our education was more on learning how to deal with exams, instead of preparing us properly to contribute to society. That our country is full of highly-educated folks who don't give a crap about literature.

Many years ago, back in Perth, Justin (who used to contribute to this blog but had since became a published novelist himself) once said this:

"I cannot imagine anyone not picking up a novel in their entire life. What sort of existence is that?"

I shrugged. "A typical Malaysian."

Being in love with literature is just as lonely as being passionate about films. Or maybe a little more so. At least most Joe Blows do go to cinemas for films as some social exercise. Any attempt to have a meaningful or deep discussion about the film will be futile. People will look at me as if I had farted loudly in a funeral.

Because they rarely happen, being able to go into in-depth discussions about films, filmmakers, or literary works, authors, can be a very pleasurable experience. Perhaps that is why I am often on Facebook and Twitter. Or why I often surf film websites and go through the comments section. Just to find and read about discussions that I can never seem to have in real life.

(Perhaps if I were a banker, I wouldn't have to deal with such a dilemma, no?)

Yesterday, Maggie Lee, film critic of Variety, tweeted this link to a book review:

7 x 7. 49th day of my grandmother's passing. Remembering a dream.

I returned to Tokyo last night, on the eve of Malaysia's Independence Day.

55 years ago, my nation's fathers fought for liberation and attained it, through unity and faith. 31st of August, 1957.

I love my country. But I think, judging from the current political climate, there isn't much for me to celebrate.

Aside from being Malaysia's 55th Independence Day, 31st of August, 2012 is also the 49th day of my grandmother's passing, or the 7 x 7. For Buddhist customs, 1x7 (the first week), 3x7 (the third week), 5x7 and finally, 7x7, are marked by a short praying ceremony.

I was around for both the first week and the fifth week.

On the 5th week (5x7), a ritual was held to put her plaque on the walls of a temple.

My homage to Chris Marker - FLEETING IMAGES (2008)

The great filmmaker Chris Marker passed away two weeks ago at the age of 91.

1-minute extract of my short, LAST FRAGMENTS OF WINTER

The folks at the Sapporo Short Film Fest have posted a 1-minute extract of my short film LAST FRAGMENTS OF WINTER on Youtube. The film is making its Japanese premiere at the festival next month, followed closely by screenings at the Nara International Film Festival a few days later. I'm pretty excited to have my film finally shown to the Japanese public.

The old TVB dramas were really quite awesome

"Wouldn't it be cool if you were to direct a TVB drama series?"

Mom and Dad were on the newspapers

In the past month, both my mom and my dad were featured on the papers.

Grandmother's Funeral

(My dear grandmother had just passed away. Since then, I received many kind messages from friends around the world expressing their condolences, they have my utmost gratitude. The next few posts in this blog will be about my grandma. Because I needed to remember.)

A photo trip through memory lane with my Grandmother.

Letters to my Grandmother

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A week has passed since Grandma died. I have shared with you my memories of her, and also the letters that we have written to her before her funeral, now I try to chronicle the funeral itself.

On the two nights before the funeral, she was placed to rest in the house that she had lived in for nearly 20 years, so that friends and family could come and pay their last respects.

Letters to my Grandmother

(My dear grandmother had just passed away. Since then, I received many kind messages from friends around the world expressing their condolences, they have my utmost gratitude. The next few posts in this blog will be about my grandma. Because I needed to remember. Here's a photo trip through memory lane with my Grandmother.)

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On the day before her funeral, my cousins and I decided to each write a letter to Grandmother and paste it on the wall next to her casket.

A photo trip through memory lane with my grandmother

(My dear grandmother had just passed away. Since then, I received many kind messages from friends around the world expressing their condolences, they have my utmost gratitude. The next few posts in this blog will be about my grandma. Because I needed to remember.)

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On the night of 14th July, 2012, my Po Po, maternal grandmother, passed away peacefully in her house. She would have turned 80 this October. All 28 years of my life, she was the only grandparent I knew.

She is survived by nine children, twenty-two grandchildren, one great-grandchild (with one more on the way), two godchildren and six god-grandsons.

Letter from Byung-lock Min, outgoing festival director of Jeonju Film Fest

Less than a few hours after I received the email from Un-Seong Yoo mentioned in my previous post, I received an email too, from Byung-lock Min, the Jeonju Film Festival director who had resigned last week shortly after he was appointed to head the festival for another term.

I think it is necessary to hear his side of the story as well. But really, in the end, I cannot see who is right or wrong, who wins or loses, maybe for this, everyone loses.

Yoo Un-Seong and the Jeonju International Film Festival

I received an email just now from Yoo Un-Seong, former programmer of the Jeonju International Film Festival in South Korea.

Remembering Sam Raimi's original Spider-man trilogy

I saw THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN two nights ago and enjoyed it.

Because of that, and also because of this video below, I am prompted to revisit the original Spider-man trilogy by Sam Raimi.

Observing the observation deck of Haneda Airport at night

This is the story of a man marked by an image from his childhood. The violent scene, whose meaning he would not grasp until much later, took place on the great jetty at Orly, a few years before the start of the Third World War.

On Sundays, parents bring their children to watch the planes... Of this Sunday, the child of this story would remember the frozen sun, the scene at the end of the jetty. Moments to remember are just like other moments. They are only made memorable by the scars they leave. The face he had seen was to be the only peacetime image to survive the war. Had he really seen it? Or had he invented the tender gesture to shield him from the madness to come? The sudden noise, the woman's gesture, the crumpling body, the cries of the crowd. Later, he knew he had seen a man die.

I have never been to the observation deck of Haneda Airport before. So last night, before heading to the gates, I decided to take a look.

A movie leading to a dream leading to an imagined movie...

Last night, he started to watch a film by one of his favourite Hong Kong directors, Johnnie To. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was Hong Kong's 15th anniversary handover, it just happened that he wanted to watch a familiar Hong Kong film with familiar Hong Kong actors. The film, ROMANCING IN THIN AIR, was a romantic drama with familiar trappings, part-NOTTING HILL, part-UPSIDE OF ANGER (he didn't know he could still remember this film), part-anything Nicholas Sparks.

That's how the first half of 2012 ended. Lovely.

The second half of 2012 sort of sneaked up on me. As I was walking home this morning at 4am, I was struck by how pink the sky was. The first rays of the sun were lighting up the sky.