Pengalaman baru dengan rakan lama: Bahasa Melayu.

Baru-baru ini saya telah selesai menulis skrip untuk rancangan majalah yang akan disiarkan di RTM. Menulis skrip bukanlah pencapaian, baru bagi saya… saya pernah menulis skrip untuk satu siri rancangan yang juga diterbitkan untuk RTM dua dekad dahulu.

Skrip yang diterbitkan ketika itu untuk Malaysia Book of Record adalah dalam Bahasa Inggeris. Kali ini pula, rancangan yang bernama Skup Jurnalis, seperti yang dapat dilihat daripada tajuk, adalah dalam Bahasa Melayu.

Kali terakhir saya menulis dalam Bahasa Melayu lebih daripada satu atau dua ayat adalah ketika saya menduduki peperiksaan subjek yang sama bagi Sijil Tinggi Peperiksaan Malaysia pada tahun 1992.

Pencapaian kini adalah kebolehan saya menulis kembali dalam bahasa kebangsaan, bukan satu ayat, atau satu perenggan... tetapi beberapa muka surat. Walaupun jalan bahasa tidak lari daripada cara penulisan bahasa Inggeris yang lebih saya kenali dan selesa, terdapat perbezaan disana dan sini. Apabila saya membaca balik apa yang ditulis, saya dapat faham... ada yang pelik dalam penyampaian tulisan tersebut.

Yang mengharukan, dan membanggakan adalah saya masih lagi ingat apa yang dipelajari lebih dari beberapa dekad dahulu. Memang ada kesalahan tatabahasa disana dan disini, dan ejaan yang berbeza sekarang, terutamanya dengan pengimportan perkataan-perkataan daripada bahasa Inggeris (yang agak berlebihan, tetapi tiada satu bahasa yang original didunia, semua melalui evolusi dengan mengambil masuk perkataan dan frasa daripada bahasa lain).

Oleh itu, saya ingin memulakan fasa baru dalam perjalanan kerjaya saya dengan merujuk kembali apa yang telah saya pelajari zaman sekolah dulu. Sepatutnya, Bahasa Melayu saya adalah lebih mantap dari Bahasa Inggeris. Untuk SPM, saya dapat A2 untuk Inggeris dan A1 untuk BM. Saya tidak dapat mengambil bahasa Inggeris untuk STPM, kerana sekolah (swasta, sebab SPM saya tidak cukup kuat untuk masuk sekolah kerajaan) tidak mempunyai guru untuk subjek tersebut.

Jadi, saya belajar dan menduduki peperiksaan untuk Bahasa Melayu (bukan Bahasa Malaysia seperti SPM, masa itu) dan bolehlah tahan... saya dapat A dalam mata pelajaran tersebut. Melihat bahawa keputusan mata pelajaran yang lain agak lemah, subjek Bahasa Melayulah yang menarik saya keluar daripada gaung kegagalan.

Jadi, itulah alkisah. Saya ingin merakamkan penghargaan saya kepada semua guru-guru bahasa, kedua-dua, kerana ialah yang memberi saya harapan setelah melalui zaman kegelapan dalam kehidupan saya. Ini adalah catatan penghargaan tersebut. - RKP 16/11/2021

Internet Activism: Conscience At Your Fingertips?

 

The rise of the Internet and communication devices based activism, slactivism, clicktivism, the use, the abuse and the obtuse.

How often you get invites through social media platforms, to sign up for a campaign, where all you have to do is just click and click and it's done. What do you know about that campaign, the issues and the related information? Does it matter? Who cares, right?

Welcome to the age of Internet Activism... which has other names like slactivism and clicktivism. But what makes it tick, or, click? How do people relate to some of these causes and have them lift their heavy fingers and press the screen to make an intended err... life-altering commitment?

The often accepted explanation is that much of it has to do with ideological self-identification, which, sadly in Malaysia's case, is often related to one's race and/or religious background – often a perfect eco-system to whip out the "victim card". Mind manipulation of the mass is still as easy no different than the early days of tribal religious conversation, that a cry of a "victim" immediately put the peer pressure on the social media users to get into the action without even wanting to know what actually had been transpiring, the history behind it or does it even matter to him or her personally.

There is a study citing that it is usually the narcissist who use plenty of victim card. Popular culture – your religious texts included – glorify the underdog and demonise the powerful ones. It's cool to be an underdog, therefore to related to one, but usually, underdog stories comprise of 70% of the time suffering, 29% fighting back, and only that 1% where you raise the gloved hand in the air to an Eye Of The Tiger soundtrack reprise.

Therefore, identifying oneself to underdogs it is easier now to have the voice heard in unison through the social media, by imposing themselves, with popping veins of narcissism, and use victim cards to make the voices heard or read, (“government is patronising us by eating maggie mee”... “I may not pay taxes, but they can't take away my illegal parking rights!); and it's easier to get support for those whines than, “Hey, let's put our head together on this legislation before we bring it to the parliament”.

But what's the make-up behind the attitude towards these form of activism? Perhaps science can shed a light. Perhaps it may have something to do with...

NPD

Make no mistake...online activism is especially useful for those who are unable to participate in acts of physical activism, notably, as mentioned here, “the disabled and mobility-impaired people who cannot attend marches also find online activism tools a helpful way to promote issues and protest inequalities.”

But there is the selfish side of things that need to be pondered bout. There seemed to be much concern amidst the discerning of us that most of us with a cellular phone, internet connection and social media apps are slowly succumbing to what is known in psychology and related discipline circle as a narcissistic personality disorder (NPD).

Some of the symptoms (taken from the above link) include the following:

• sense of entitlement
• denial
• delusions of grandeur
• grandiosity
• Projection
• need for control
• narcissistic rage
• low empathy

Most of us can tick all the boxes, but let us flesh it out a little bit more on...

NPD and Activism

Some of the most successful activism has its impact all over the world. For example, one of the most important of recent years: “Black Lives Matters”.

The George Zimmerman case in the US, where he was charged for the murder of Trayvon Martin but acquitted, started the peat fire of Black Lives Matter (BLM) hashtag, went on to become a raging online forest fire so much so that it was rewarded with millions of signatures, and even endorsement from celebrities who need to have themselves to be in the public eye radar anyway. Zimmerman was then charged with second-degree murder, instead. BLM collected around US$90 million last year (there's also news about the co-founder of the movement who bought a US$1.4 million house, but that's a tale for a different day).

The same activism was played a big part in the rise of the Occupy Wall Street and Arab Spring movements that relied heavily on social media for the organisation of the rallies, and ballooning up to the size of imposing headlines.

Alas, it is very noticeable that there is clearly the presence of emotional blackmail involved: you are with us or, well, you better be with us, you oppressing, suppressing scumbag. Of course, the "us" is really "me", The whole shebang leads to what is referred to as Performative Activism, which according to the wiki is defined as “referring to activism done to increase one's social capital rather than because of one's devotion to a cause. It is often associated with surface-level activism, referred to as slacktivism.”

Social capital here refers to the network of people we have in our circle, the relationship, work, an interest group, etc. Note how activism now had evolved to selfishness, how many are in our circle, with us.... what cause?

Slactivism and the left-outs

There is a tendency to think that what is trending is the most important stuff going on now, and it will be lost on those who don't give two hoots about it. We can accept that users across the generations who spend up to 99%, if time permits, of their waking hours staring into the screen (including yours truly) will find it endearing to dedicate their seat-burning hours to various causes.

Still, this may not exactly be the case with older generations who are less likely to make their opinions heard. And according to this article, a study by the US Pew Research Center, noted that Americans aged between 18 and 49 are more likely than those aged 50 and over to have used hashtags related to a political or social issue; 20 per cent compared with 8 per cent, respectively.

But not only does online activism tend to engage younger generations more, but it's also naturally attracting a more educated crowd. And those with the communication and technological skills to get their point across would actually able to win the online arguments. All it takes is highlight the "loser's" spelling and grammatical errors and you win the argument.  

The older generation though, many without the savviness or patience, tend to gloss over these issues... If wisdom comes with age, then wisdom may also be taking a break during this supposed life-altering choices and decision-making process. One wonders why.

So, are the older folks sidelined? Or does it matter after all, when the voices of the younger generations are going to determine the future... which will be questioned by the latter-day younger punks using the tech of the future to do their own version of activism.

My old fart-ism aside, the Millenials especially are indeed a lot more discerning than what we can give them the credit for. According to this piece, millennials “tend to place less value on the acquisition of things, including the traditional settling down purchases of cars and houses, and more on the acquisition of experiences. When millennials do buy things, they care more about where they came from and what the companies that produce them are like,”

Ethics is a concern, and activism is the best place for the young 'uns to express their concern. But would that do?

Not too far a time ago, a study found that “75% of the Millennial generation uses social media platforms to discuss issues that matter to them. It also found that 58% of Americans think using a hashtag related to an issue is an effective form of support. The problem critics see is that online support isn’t typically backed by actions that make a difference.”

But as sceptical as I am, let's recall one hashtag campaign that was a huge success: remember the #ALSIceBucketChallenge? The ALS stands for Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis and the draw was sch that almost nobody knew what ALS exactly was, when they were busy funnelling money to see wet bodies... or, am I being negative? People genuinely cared for the cause, didn't they? Hmm?

Well, it seems half of those who were polled in the UK, for example, never really donated, as reported by The Independent. Yeah, they were in it for the err.. titillation and that's about it, so much for hashtag activism. Let's not forget that there are far more serious diseases, but the funding was directed only at ALS. Perhaps #stripforcancer can generate gazillions, some of which will be siphoned off anyway.

And this sort of hashtag activism also may lead to what the psychologists call Moral Licensing: a form of bargaining to whitewash current bad behaviour with past good ones. In other words, as mentioned here, "...when we are confident we have behaved well in the past, and our actions demonstrate compassion and generosity, we are more likely to explain away acts that are selfish, bigoted, or thoughtless." So, what if I killed a bunch of teens, I participated in the ice bucket challenge. Therefore does it really.....

Help or who cares anymore?

At most, all these activities aim to mainly just raise awareness. That alone does not help. There is more to just collecting a handful of money and shoving it into the safe of a medical facility... On the other hand, the activism of similar nature is just as good in collecting hates and malicious intent, just as fast.

And it also clearly indicates the nature of excitability, where the attention span of an average user is getting shorter and shorter. In turn, hashtag campaigns usually have a lifespan of a housefly. Take, for instance the campaign to save 200 Nigerian girls kidnapped by the Boko Haram group (#BringBackOurGirls) in 2014, millions have been contributed but after seven years, while some have escaped and were released, more than 100 of them are still missing. Most of those who participated must have forgotten the whole fiasco in the following year.

It doesn't help that the ones rescued became some sort of celebrities and their lives just got worst, they had to be protected, and in military or government control all the time.

While these form of activism had in the past also been used for defamation and condemnation, it can affect the leading activists themselves. Noted Internet savant, Aaron Swartz, 26, who at a very young age helped to shape the online stratosphere through his co-founding of RSS ( news feed) and Reddit (social news aggregation)... later committed suicide.

It is a well-known fact that at that time he was plagued by legal problems arising from his aggressive activism. Slactivism does not only has the capacity to hurt others, but also the initiators. Stigmatization, the break-up of relationship over misunderstanding and disagreement on the activism cause are some of the side effects.

Ultimately, everything evolves. There's a half-remembered quote from a film somewhere, where a character says, paraphrased, "governments change, the bullshit remains the same". Whereas, platforms for activism may move from the street to the palm of one's hand, and, in a near future, instructed from the mind itself – wanting a chorus of emotional participation to lift a finger (or press) for something someone thought is important can be both selfless and selfish.

As usual, history will be the best judge. Then, again, history used to be determined by victors... but that would be passe, history will also be determined by armchair cultural revisionist... and they will mostly be stuck at this rampant hashtag slactivism phase, and the sheer exhausting the number will perhaps have them themselves start their own hashtag campaign #stophashtagactivism.

Moving...pictures?

 

Note: Originally I wrote this piece for the Malaysia Box Office Facebook site on 20th November, 2020.. Plenty more cinemas have closed down after this piece, notably Golden Screen Cinema which shut down its theatres at Berjaya Times Square and Cheras Leisure Mall, I've added an emotional quote from Spielberg to conclude this err... plea?

The Covid 19/Coronavirus pandemic is not a local phenomenon (no, not like the immortal Selangor water woes), it had hit global community left, right and centre, yes, including the political leanings. No one is spared. Young, old, teens, or supporters of Manchester United... the virus is like the Terminator, only with Punk-ish points.

Speaking of water woes, the film fans, movie buffs and cinema aficionados world over face the somewhat the same situation, we are now bereft of any flicks to watch on big screen.

In Malaysia, we were saddened by the closure of MBO, and again, this is not a local issue. Britain's second-biggest cinema chain has drawn the curtain too. And in the mightly US of A, the Regal cinema is temporarily shutting its door and that is going to impact 40,000 employee in the US and 5,000 in Britain.

Most of the films that started out big, promising to smash across the big screens world over, have now pocketed their smugness and humbled themselves to smaller screens, may it be Netflix, or other OTT platform (Over The Top – referring to content provision through internet, not that highly forgettable Stallone flick). Smaller screen is the new black for filmmakers. Sad, but true. Or is it so?

And, does it look like Edison has won. Why?

There has been conflict as to who invented cinema. Well, like most stuff, it has always evolved from something. Cinema definitely had a very humble (probably smelly) beginning in dank caves where the men and women of neolithic age used shadow to tell stories. It's the same old concept today, except the audiences has grown from own family members, neighbours to the irreprehensible members from Star Trek conventions.

Most of the time, credit goes to the master inventor/thief, Tomas Alva Edison who invented the kinetoscope, a device where you can screw your eyes into a viewfinder and watch the reels. Of course, it feels voyeuristic, with the keyhole approach, but sitting with a the large crowd as enabled by the big screen innovation through the Frenchmen Lumiere brothers' invention of camera and projector.

With the cinemas industries lifespan uncertainties, we are back at watching small screens ala Edison who personalised watching moving images. Or will this be the future of cinema?

Take the case of The Irishmen, for example. Directed by Oscar-winning, possibly one of the greatest filmmaker in Hollywood, Martin Scorcese, it has the magnitude of a huge Hollywood epic, bringing in a team of brilliant casts, and genius crews (I can't vouch that for, say, the Key Grip, but hey...).

Apparently, the main reason why it went to Netflix, instead of letting screen bloods out for wider audience, is simply Scorcese wanted it to be so. He didn't want it to be on big screen where it was infested (my word, not his) with comic book heroes, and there is no place for more artistic presentations such as his. Apparently the studios have passed The Irishmen, a costly production, thinking that it will not be able to make back the dough enough for them to laugh their way to the bank like The Joker.

In addition to Scorcese, Guillermo del Toro, Alfonso Cuarón, Paul Greengrass, and the great David Fincher found second home there. This is just the beginning and it doesn't look good for big screen trade. And now the goddam virus is looking to end it all, or would it?

What is the next step of cinematic evolution as far as the silver screen is concerned? One of the possibilities are that it will still be kept alive as one of the profit centre arms by the non-traditional studio. In fact, the very Netflix has bought a cinema last year, somewhat saving the “ailing industry” as the linked article pointed out...It also could be that to qualify for Oscar nominations, films have to have run in an LA theatre for seven days.

Will the big studios give up on cinemas then, thus ensuring the death of the dear dream theatre of darkness and light? Not so, if the Scorcese's nightmares are to be kept alive. In fact, it is argued that low to mid-budget films may enjoy their run on small screen, but not so the biggies. Franchise flicks like Avengers and Tom Cruise's Mission Impossible (7 on the way), need the cash cow in form of mass ticket buying.

Right now, everyone is tied up at home, and the four walls is going to bore the heck out of them one day. There is a possibility that this is just suppressing the audience, and when the time comes for all to come out be in masses, there might be mass cinema door opening, in fact as mentioned by Tim Richards, founder and chief executive of cinema chain Vue International, in this piece:

“....Families, couples, individuals are being tied up at home for weeks or months now...When it is over there will be a demand to get out like we have never seen in history. There is no scenario after lockdown [where] people will say ‘I’m not going out, I’m staying in to watch Netflix’.....”

Post lockdown, will the audience, fed-up with claustrophobic smaller screen (no matter how big their TV screens are, they are not going to match the big screen... the ACTUAL big screen), push their way out to the cinemas? Or will they be consumed with post-Covid 19 paranoia and eschew anything involving crowd? Did Edison win this round, with personal film viewing snatching the trophy from mass gawking at the big screen?

Not too fast, Thomas... in addition to the content, its quality, its shape, size, taste whatever...what's missing is the experience. Sure, you can cook a gourmet meal at home, dim the light, light candle, and do the double role as a waiter with fake French accent and the “customer”... but will that be the same as in actual, proper, restaurant and saying (like in When Harry Met Sally, 1989, in case you are missing the reference) “I'll have what she's having”? In the theatre, everyone has the same thing.

Let us not even get started with the concessions, burn as much popcorn as you want at home, you are not going to get the same texture, aroma...most importantly, the taste you are going to get in the movie theatres. In fact, that is where the theatres really push their profit margin... Yes, its the goddam popcorn you are, err, popping that has been keeping the theatres alive, where the concessions contributes 85% to the profit.

Eating popcorn from that humongous tub, sucking carbonated drinks, heads stretched upwards staring at the screen, losing yourself amidst the caramel taste in your mouth is not an experience you are going to get at home, where you don't turn your mobile phones in silent mode, and your fellow audiences has too close a personal relationship with you.

And have opinions while watching the show.

Watching movies in a theatre is not a pastime. Its an experience. Its a ride for the audience to getaway from reality, a safe haven instead of alcohol and drugs, to be in the shadow, watching the light, being transported into a different world, now that the sound system and other innovations have been making the experience more visceral.

Let the OTTs be, but note that quality of the streaming will be questionable. Why? Well, here, it noted that the main players announced that they are reducing the picture quality in order to cut the data going to homes by 25% so that the Internet doesn't get bottlenecked.

Sounds familiar? Sounds like how the products' quality become less awesome as they become mass-produced? Soon, the produced films for OTT will be offered in inferior packages so the service providers don't have to do the quality reduction themselves. You don't get this just because this movie theatre screen is slightly smaller than the other. Edison's Kinetoscope didn't make it, Lumierre's invention did. Big screen is here to stay, it just has to evolve into something more awesome as half a century ago it went into widescreen and started stereo sounds that got audiences to start coming back in drove despite the wars, and the invasion of television at homes.

Cinemas in Malaysia is going through just that, some sort of continental drift, a big evolution that is going to make it much more awesome with newer innovations and most importantly, better experience for audiences, who are weary of indoor life, and are ready for that dark hall escapades.

Additional notes: 1^st March 2020

It is good to add this quote from a piece by Spielberg who wrote eloquently and emotionally for Empire Magazine:

... In a movie theatre, you watch movies with the significant others in your life, but also in the company of strangers. That’s the magic we experience when we go out to see a movie or a play or a concert or a comedy act. We don’t know who all these people are sitting around us, but when the experience makes us laugh or cry or cheer or contemplate, and then when the lights come up and we leave our seats, the people with whom we head out into the real world don’t feel like complete strangers anymore. We’ve become a community, alike in heart and spirit, or at any rate alike in having shared for a couple of hours a powerful experience. That brief interval in a theatre doesn’t erase the many things that divide us: race or class or belief or gender or politics. But our country and our world feel less divided, less fractured, after a congregation of strangers have laughed, cried, jumped out their seats together, all at the same time. Art asks us to be aware of the particular and the universal, both at once. And that’s why, of all the things that have the potential to unite us, none is more powerful than the communal experience of the arts.....

I almost cried... 

Radio Goo-Goo....

In revisiting the first James Bond flick the other day, DR. NO (1962), there was a scene in the opening where a pretty gal tries to communicate with the British MI6 from Jamaica using a two-way radio. There were dials to turn till she got the connection correctly, and had to end her part of the ongoing conversation with “over” to let the other person speaking. It was a great way of talking, could have solved many marital woes if couples quarrelled over these devices, as I imagine it: 

Husband: Dear, I can't eat the breakfast. Over

Wife: What's wrong? Over.

Husbdand: Nothing, but..but...Over

Wife: But what???...Over

Husband: But the toast was burnt. Over 

Wife: I didn't do it on purpose, it was the cat that did it. It was after a mouse, the mouse was after the cheese, the cheese melted and …. 

Now, Imagine, the husband cannot interfere till she's done and says “over”. Less he packs up anticipating it and and leaves saying, “...you did say it was over...” But I digress. 

You see, February the 13th was International Radio day (two days ago). Unfortunately, it was overshadowed by February 14, the Impress Gals With Flowers and Chocolate day. It also happens to be my son's birthday, and what a terrible purpose-filled life his would be. Now, it's hard to tell, but has radio become less or more relevant today? It is still around, despite the fact that everything is audiovisual, plus effects.

Like this piece from the UN, nevertheless, that states: “....As the world changes, so too does radio – evolving as it records humanity’s history by following and adapting to societal developments. This has been extremely clear during the coronavirus crisis, where, among other things, the medium has made it possible to ensure the continuity of learning and fight against misinformation....” 

Growing up in the plantation, the radio was integral for us, indeed, it was almost soundtrack of our life in retrospect. The station may, perhaps, be playing a beautiful song about a girl's pretty face, which is compared compared to flower; and imagine at that time your mom found out that you finished the pastries she made for tea slightly after lunch, and all hell broke loose. 

Which means, when you are a forty-year-old overworked accountant listening to mp3s in your iPod on with an urgent rendevous with a commode (iPoop?), this song pops up and that scary memory overwhelms you, and suddenly everything shrinks to the point of requiring a pincer for extrication. Thank you, radio. But forget about music, there were plenty of dramas. 

No, I don't mean interviews with people you don't know and don't care where the most drama is when someone tries to find the right word. This is the high point of listening to radio, where searching for words the DJ lets music play while a monkey winds his key. 

Back then, there were plays on the radio. In case of Tamil language stations which we were listning to, the voice actors would be belting out their best imitation of Sivaji Ganesan or Savithiri which can be nauseating at some point, though as kids we are not actually listening to them, we were just hearing them in the background possibly because we are probably studying, or playing, or in my younger brother's case, having another encounter with a goddam snake. 

Yes, take any generations from now to back in most decades last century, radio became the chief most nostalgia-sentiment maker. The radio of these days are mostly driving companions. When I was driving Grab (e-hailing) for six months recently, I'd switch on Bernama radio, a news station with lots and lotsa interviews, some interesting, some boring...but keeps my mind active and most to let the passenger know that they have a driver who's awake.. 

Occasionally, I gathered up enough guts to foray into other stations only to be blown to smithereens of guilt particles. The same “I gotta rush to the loo” hurried presentation, or deejay-ing, and jokes by the DJs that are about as hilarious as watching grapes in the process of becoming raisins.

 

Things actually got worst at the other stations compared to what I wrote almost two frickin' decades ago here (VCD was big, back then): “...The shows in the station is becoming the marketing tool of many companies. Marketing is a far too sophisticated and polite a word to these self-inflated, smart-as-a-pirated-VCD-vendor promoters, who are usually the founder or the chairman. The presenter and the promoter take turn in rephrasing their one sentence structure, into various versions of praises and boasts.

At times I would wonder who the real presenter, I mean the promoter, is. Hell, who cares anymore....” 

How dumb I was those days. I was wrong to think of radio stations as a marketing tool for many companies. Stupid prophecy. Actually, radio stations have now become is a marketing weapon, and sex toy for many companies – by which I mean, the companies throwing PR assaults on us and pleasuring self using the broadcasting tool. 

But I believe in evolution. Everything evolves, to stay constant is to stay irrelevant. Radio is evolving into a beast that I am no longer familiar with. It will not exist the same way, now that online radio stations and free podcasts are becoming equally popular. Unlike back in days where you had too few stations to choose from, these days of radio-sphere is filled with millions of stations online, on-air, in your car, bursting out from your mobile devices, barking in echo from shopping malls... and yet, they are not crystalised enough for one to bring to the grave with those sentiments and nostalgia attached.

I am wrong of course, and I am not even mourning over the fact that what was once integral, is now just something we integrate. It's like, we still have James Bond and Batman, who are no longer event makers, but just plain contents. 

Speaking of James Bond, remember the girl with the radio communication device from Dr. No I was mentioning at the opening of this article? Yeah, she got shot immediately in the scene. Bullet through the right boobs. There's something symbolic about radio being no longer about communications, and something dying in the heart of the entertainment business. Or maybe I am just sad that a cute gal got her boobies shot on screen.

Sean Connery: Shaking And Stirring The Film Fans' Hearts.

Towards the third quarter of 1990, us students of Form Five sat for a trial exam to prepare ourselves for the biggie at the end of the year (then, called Sijil Peperiksaan Malaysia, or Malaysian Examination Certificate). As usual, I sucked at Additional Mathematics and Chemistry, and usually, I would end up not answering most questions.

This time, after finishing not answering the chemistry paper, I flipped the question paper, on the blank sheet at the back and started sketching. Very intensive sketching. I was about to finish when one of the invigilators, a teacher from our school of course, from behind me, proclaimed: “Mrs. Sukeshini (another teacher) have you seen any Seen Connery films?”

Yes, I was sketching a still of Sean Connery posing for, I believe, From Russia With Love. The teacher pronounced the “Sean” wrongly, and I answered all the papers' question equally wrong.

Such was the impact of Connery and James Bond in my teen life. If I were to blame anyone, it would be my Acha (father), who allowed us brothers to watch Dr. No on TV, when the world was celebrating the film Bond's 25^th anniversary in 1987.

The first time we see James Bond, was from the back...sitting by a round table, gambling, Baccarat. There would be an exchanged with a very pretty gal, and when she prompts, “....Mr...?” We see, him, lighting his cigarette and responds. I was hooked from the moment Connery uttered, “Bond, James Bond”.

I still have goosebumps when I recall that.

When I was the school English Club president and the teacher in charge decided to publish a magazine, I became the editor and used my dictatorial power to wrote my own piece on James Bond, mainly praising Connery's take on the character. A teacher who saw the piece asked if I had done the research, I arrogantly said, no no need research it is all in here (pointing to my head). I kid you not. I am writing this without referring to IMDB or Wikipedia. Its all in my goddam head, though my family and friends can testify that I have memory issues with regards to the stuff. And that was the genesis of my career in both feature article writing and scriptwriting.

Coming back to the man....to me and many other fans, Connery is James Bond. Not favourite James Bond. My favourite is Timothy Dalton who did his best to bring the Bond from the books. Connery's was the prototype Bond that was MEANT for films. He became the yardstick that the following actors playing Bond were measured against, so much so that the first one, George Lazenby, who did a decent job considering the film itself had a fantastic script and is now considered one of the best, unfortunately, was heavily compared to Connery and was dismissed by most fans back then.

When I asked Acha who is his favourite Bond, his answer is simple: “Sean”. I know, we all say “Connery”, but to Acha there is only one Sean, and the way he says the name, it sounds as if both of them played Sepak Takraw together.

Ah, Connery. What style, one would exclaim. What presence, the other would praise. But as I start looking at his non-Bond films, I say, what a fantastic actor.

He belongs to the category of “limited actor”.... which means, he plays with his limitation. He isn't Brando, nor is he the latter generation of Method actors, like Pacino or de Niro. He is one of those classic stars like Humprey Bogart, Gregory Peck, Cary Grant, or Spencer Tracy, coming from “read the lines and mean it” school of onscreen performers.

Yes, Connery, in a Mr. Universe competition
pre-acting career. When asked about it,
Connery said that in comparison to the current
Mr. Universe contestant, he "looked like a little girl".

When he had done three Bond films, director Sydney Lumet (very underrated, please go and watch the films he directed, he is awesome... I have read his memoirs, which is sort of a guide book in filmmaking and its awesome...dammit, HE is awesome).... cast him in a very tough film called The Hill (1965). Connery, a certain critic described, played a caged animal effectively. He did another film, A Fine Madness, playing of course, an off-balance poet. A rebelling miner in Molly Maguires, an ex-con, ex-prisoner looking for that one last score in The Anderson Tapes, and post Bond, the brilliant psychological crime thriller, The Offence (the last two also directed by Lumet).

These were testimony that he was more than the suave, sophisticated types. In fact, he never was. Apparently, he had to learn the accent for James Bond (despite his Scottish brogue leaking here and there) and reportedly slept with his tuxedo 

so that it will be like his second skin.

Because... he was from a blue-collar neighbourhood... the world of James Bond was alien to him, and that is why he set the tone, he gave additional ruggedness to the supposedly Upper Class-ish character created by Fleming who came from the same background. Fleming himself was often described as snobbish, a label applied to his books as well. When, at first, he saw Connery playing his famous creation, he dismissed the latter as “overgrown stuntman” because Bond in the book was six feet and athletic. Connery was six feet two, and once competed for Mr Universe.

But the “stuntman” label could have been correct. Bond was brutal when it comes to violence in the books... and you can notice immediately that during the tensed scene, when Connery's Bond is in the room...you know that glasses are going to break, the furniture will be in pieces, and there will definitely be broken bones.

That's Robert Shaw Connery is strangling in 

From Russia With Lovev(1963)... Years Later 

Shaw will lose a fight with a shark (Jaws, 1976),

 poor guy.

Moving away from Bond, as Connery got increasingly tired (it showed in the last two Bond films he did, though they were still interesting flicks), he went on experimental mode. Gone were the wigs, in came the facial hairs.

The most notable film he did in the 70s was The Man Who Would be King. Directed by the brilliant John Houston, he was paired with his close friend, Michael Caine. Both were amazing, and Connery especially was most un-Bond, balding, with handlebar moustache and brutish mannerism enhanced by his more pronounced Scottish accent more, he played an ex-British soldier who was mistaken for Alexander The Great's descendant, and he played along, and he started to believe it himself. And then, there was the exciting The Great Train Robbery, borrowing a bit of Bond's mannerism as a gentleman thief alongside the amiable Donald Sutherland (Kiefer's dad), the Lumet films that further stretched him as a character actor.

Michael Caine gave up and just went for clean
shave look... who can compete with that moustache?

The eighties were a slower decade, though once he was nominated for a Best Actor Oscar for the brilliant atmospheric The Name Of The Rose (1986), playing an eccentric Holmes-ish detective monk in the Middle Ages, before landing the role of an Irish cop who inspires Elliot Ness (Kevin Costner) who recruits him and others to nail Al Capone (Robert de Niro) in The Untouchables (1987)...finally landing the role of Indiana Jones father in Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade (1989). Spielberg, who openly declared that Indy was inspired by James Bond, said in the making of that film a documentary that “who else can play Indy's dad but the original James Bond himself”. Without overshadowing the star himself, Connery was a perfect foil for Harrison Ford and the film benefited largely from his casting.

Speaking of which, his films henceforth added quality from merely having Connery on board. Connery is now a legend, all that is required is his presence to give the films a touch of class. No one complained about him even if most of the films sucked a great deal. Critics loved him and had mixed feeling about the films.

It was an open secret that Connery never cared much about acting as he was collecting remuneration from the films. He was the first to ever be paid a million dollars (for the Bond film he returned to, Diamonds Are Forever, after four years of gap... he came back only if he was paid that much and the money was to go to his Scottish Education Fund). He inspired many other actors. As mentioned, he became the yardstick all the other Bond actors were measured against, and only Craig comes close to the embodiment of his charm, sophistication and penchant for violence.

T

Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade (1989). 

True story: Apparently it was so hot filming in Egypt, 

that Connery wore just shorts during the mid to 

close-up scenes.Harrison Ford was annoyed...at first.. 

then, he felt it was a brilliant idea and did the same.

The last film he did, The League Of Extraordinary Gentleman became the nail to his list of acting resume because he hated the experience of making it. He called it a day and only appeared to lend his voice for a Scottish animation as a favour, and the Bond video games for money.

Later he was knighted, because of his generosity (the fun), but who are they kidding... it was for Bond, for making England recover from the nasty reputation of the English as colonising bastards as Connery's Bond made them look good. Really good.

And now, he is gone, at the ripe age of 90... and what a legacy he has left behind. I wanted to become him. Many early Bond fans wanted to become him. He even made balding men sexy, who can beat that?  

Alas, he is no more. But the strings of wonderful performances are there for us to enjoy. Connery is more than that superspy who fought the baddies and bedded the beauties. He re-invented strong screen presence... the presence that will always be felt in the annals of film history, because of the way he had shaken AND stirred the hearts of many fans. Rest In Peace, Sir Sean Connery.... this fan from Malaysia owes you his career.

F*** The Rock.... this was where "the eyebrow" came from...
which I have shamelessly been copying ever since.
Goodbye Sir Sean... I will miss you, terribly....

An Open Letter To Every Woman Who Gave Too Much Of Herself To The Wrong Guy – Redux

This is a response piece to the excellent article, the title I stole from, posted by gal pal of mine on Facebook, which I felt sort of fizzled out in the end. It says:

“...Just continue to love the way that you always have, and you’re going to eventually find the same kind of love for yourself....”

I suggested that it should have ended like this, though:

: "Pick yourself up, dust yourself, in fact, clean your heart with Dettol. Start your life with new vigour, (a) brilliant addition to the heaping mount of your wisdom and roar while kicking ass your way to the top. They will come chasing after you and you will have the luxury to evaluate and make wise choices".

My friend challenged me to write a piece that affirms what I had stated. I shall. I took that challenge.

Now, I forgot which film character that says he is an expert in women because he had relationships with too many of them (I suspect its James Bond, either in book or film, I can't recall). I had two marriages, and perhaps a short affair in between that almost bloomed before I figured out that I am going to be goddam Michael Douglas to her Faye Dunaway (Fatal Attraction) or Sharon Stone (Basic Instinct)....poor guy. Am I an expert in women and related stuff? No way. I am very close to my mother, and I am still figuring her out after goddam 47 years.

But I would like to ask, how much of yourselves have you given out, girls? All of it? Physically, perhaps some has gone as far as their conscience has allowed. Let us not go in there, but more physical intimacy do let to stronger emotional bond erupting and growing, not climaxing. For men, mostly, it does.

Most men feel that accomplishment has been set once they have gone horizontal and physical deep with the woman. After that, perhaps some adventure and then, it becomes routine. And when things go south, they will hit the bar and tell their best friends on how they can never understand women. The best friends who probably didn't have much cash in them that day would go, “tell me about it, bro?” and pour alcohol into the furnace.

My question to all those wonderful, beautiful, lovely and easily hurt girls is this: why the quest for that Right guy? You will never get one. You know why?

Evolution.

I can't vouch for gals, but we men evolve every minute. Granted some sizes remain the same, our cultural inhibition, our absorption factor always and have mostly been changing. Sure, we stick to our favourite football team. Because that's a typical male ego. I have been supporting Tottenham since I was a kid because at that particular time they goddam won the league and it was cool to support them, and I will continue to do so because...dammit I support them.

But men do not get sexual pleasure from watching sweaty men going after one bloody ball. It's something else, involving endorphins, etc. but mostly, it's massaging their ego when the team wins. Maybe there was some sort of perverted pleasure derived from it watching 22 pair of balls going after a bigger one.

Ditto when it comes to politics. Of course, we men do switch camp, but most of the time we are fiercely loyal.

Alas, the same does not apply to sex. Men evolve in their tastes in sex and preference for partners.  Pornography and prostitution would not exist if a guy was faithful to his woman the same way he is faithful to the Brazil football team his entire life even he had never set his frickin' foot there, nor would he last more than a week living there.

Loyalty to women evolve when they find that the creatures they are attached to are way too complex and could not be understood. Many resort to violence because they are too dumb to reason, we know that. I was almost there many times because I was, pardon my French, dumb fuck and was under the influence of substance.

The point, my dear beautiful members of the fairer sex, loyalty is the stuff of legend. Sure, there are few exceptions, especially those who had given up their lives. That's because it borders on obsession, and that is an entirely different psychological predicament altogether.

My thoughts for the gals is this, to hell with Mr Right. If the entire nation can still struggle with finding the right leader, what pain would it take for one individual, one gal, to find Mr Right? One of the most beautiful actresses in Hollywood who also happened to be one of the greatest (Oscar-winning, twice) actress is Elizabeth Taylor and story about her series of relationship is a stuff of legend. She even married the same man (Richard Burton) twice, and that's openly admitting your mistake and doing it again and moving on, I tell you. And that didn't diminish her image as one of Tinseltown's legends.

Let relationships happen, trust your instinct. It's okay if you are wrong. Everyone can be wrong and have been including geniuses like Einstein. Take it by your stride and work towards becoming a contributor to your family, society, country and the entire world. You don't need sex for heirs, adopt, or go to the lab. Live the life how you want to live it and just don't hurt anyone in the process.

I mentioned this in that Facebook post and I repeat it here, as my humble, very pathetic advice especially to gals who had just had a break-up, "Pick yourself up, dust yourself, in fact, clean your heart with Dettol. Start a life with new vigour, a brilliant addition to the heaping mount of your wisdom and roar while kicking ass your way to the top. They will come chasing after you and you will have the luxury to evaluate and make wise choices".

I always tell this in my online media sharing, its time for women to be at the helm. We men had screwed up the environment, created a weapon of mass destruction and have twisted moral values according to our whims and fancies. And gave the world Rob Schneider. The world is dying. Indeed, we call it Mother Earth and rightfully, women should be in charge of it...

Political Crisis and F&B Marketing…

This morning, as I turn to Facebook, as online social media is where news items are faster than Sonic the Hedgehog and usually are as accurate as lottery number predictions, I noticed this news:

“Tun Dr Siti Hasmah distributing chocolates to members of the media outside the Perdana Putra building in Putrajaya. Just minutes earlier, the interim Prime Minister was seen leaving the office presumably headed towards Istana Negara where he was summoned.”

For non-Malaysians, Tun Dr. Siti Hasmah is the permanent wife of our interim Prime Minister. I think… I don’t know, that’s not what I am going to write about. Rather than detailing deep about the current political turmoil in our country, I am better off mud-wrestling with a porcupine.

These high profile handout, of course, started with the news that His Majesty the King himself was handing out fast food to the hungry pack of media gals and boys roving around the palace for news bites….eww, sorry about that cringe-worthy wordplay.

The Agung’s generosity extended to fast food products from McDonalds, Burger King and Pizza Hut among others. The members of the media are definitely grateful as heck.

Which brings me back to my days as a member of the media, where, apart from juicy news, the best things were sweet booze and tasty food.

I became fat and later went to Rehab.

Of course, being in media has nothing to do with the fact that I did not excel to become a great journalist, but a fat alcoholic instead. It was my attitude that gave me that slip and it is another tale, we’ll chat about it over a pint and greasy chicken wings….kidding. I am kidding. Please.

Now, I find the whole event interesting in a sense because the political turmoil overshadowed that cutesy, frenemival© (friend/Enemy/Rival) gestures that excited the foodies all over Malaysia. You may have been aware of how Pizza Hut “gave its heart to its rival”, where the romance was heating up to the point that one even felt left out.

All these happened recently during the Valentine’s day, an awesome date when my son was born, which also happened to be a day that helped to unite many lovers and massacred bunch of gangsters locked in power struggle, not unlike what’s happening in the country today.

Speaking of massacres, I actually feel for my old media buddies out there. Life is not easy for them now, with a drop of a pin in the palace where most have been hanging around could be news only no one is going to hear it. Though my stint in that thankless industry did not last more than two decades, I had my share of shitty experience. Most unforgettable one was in Karachi, Pakistan (duh!), where I was reprimanded by a military officer for walking into a wrong exhibition tent. I showed my media card, which was more the reason I shouldn’t be there. I don’t know, perhaps the military officers were engaging unnatural reproductive activities with the hoofed kind.

Looking aggressive, the offier pointed out to a rather malnourished looking soldier next to him and said, “see this man?”. I saw him. He could use some protein. “He will break your back”.

Despite the ludicrous notion of me getting beaten up by a Paki Buster Keaton, my valuable pairs did shrink. Then, I opened my eyes (wait, what else did you think got shrunk?), and smiled and allowed the anorexic back-breaker to escort me out.

That is the closest I got to sustaining casualty on duty as a precious member of the media. And so, yes, media life is tough, with all that change of pace and turn of events.  It’s heartening to note that King himself spent the time to take care of the media gals and blokes. That’s Malaysian hospitality folks... when they are not swearing or honking at you on the road, or taking down (registration plate) numbers of cars involved in accidents, creating traffic jams, the usual.

Coming back to the matter in hand, it occurs to me that, well, the whole “food offering” may have started from the time when there was that “friendly” exchanges of courtesies between fast food companies.

Look, things have long been looking bleak for them. Malaysians are becoming more aware of the health and fast-food is becoming the “pariahs” of the F&B industry. Look at this example of an exchange:

Bloke: Where whould we go for lunch?

Gal: McD?

Bloke: What, with all that cholesterol?

Gal: Are you saying I am fat?

Bloke: No, I mean, it’s not healthy.

Gal: Are you saying I am sick?

Bloke: Girl, I am not saying you are Punjabi, But_

So on, so forth. My point is this: fast food industry is heading for a big crisis. This is a quote from that Business Insider news (this was two years ago, I expect things to hit rock bottom crisis-wise):

Outside of fast food, IHOP president Darren Rebelez cautioned that the “highly competitive environment” meant that growing sales required stealing diners from rivals.

See that? Stealing from rivals.

Now, back to our crisis. Don’t you see what is happening? After the Valentine’s Day exchange, the fast-food mafiosos, err, I mean, marketing people saw that nothing much was happening to spike their sales. No word-of-mouth about how healthy they are actually with paid food scientist reverse-engineering the whole health fad and issuing statement such as Whopper Burger is good for piles, so on so forth. No, it is not, save your ass.

There was an opportunity for these folks. Now is the time. Seize the day, as Robin Williams once said. Grab the opportunity. Feed the media with as much of their product as possible. Who cares about the political struggle? Make use of the King’s benevolent heart and conduct this crisis marketing as indirectly as possible.

In fact, I would even go further as to say that they even made a pact with our Prime Minister to start the whole shebang in the first place for pure marketing purposes. Come on, how much of well-shot, brilliantly-edited, poorly acted commercials can actually get you to drop everything including knickers and rush out to the fast food joint of choice?

Hah! Now you see it, don’t you? Writing this makes me hungry as heck. I feel like having Ramli Burger. I love Ramli Burger. Remember, folks, Ramli Burger is the best for you and your family, satisfaction guaranteed, in addition to being better than Whopper for your biological refuse expulsion issues.

The Gentleman (2020)

Fans of Guy Ritchie must have missed his touch with regards to earlier gangster films as he was drifted off slightly to make bigger flicks. This would be his back to basics film, sort of reminding you the days of  Lock, Stock, Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch.

The stars are bigger this time than the earlier flicks that helped to launch the careers of many who will go on to enjoy tremendous success (especially Jason Statham).

The Gentleman may not offer anything fresh, we have seen it all before. The various regional English accents, as well as an American one courtesy of Matthew McConaughey, the tics and the eccentricities of typical English lads and ladies, and most importantly the British sense of humour.

The plot is not as convoluted as one would hope for something Tarantino-esque that one expects from Ritchie, though you might get lost in the flashbacks. The violence is surprisingly plenty sparse…and this is in comparison to Ritchie’s frequent sharing of bucketloads of blood with us. I don’t know, maybe Alladin mellowed him down a bit.

Here you have it, a slimy tabloid journalist, a quick drug dealer and his very smart and tough wife, his consiglieri, and various competitors wanting to take over a huge and secret marijuana plantation (I wonder what Malaysia’s home ministry think of this “inspiring” plot device).

There’s nothing in here that will set the film apart from his usual oeuvre. Bloodshed? Check. Hilarious repartees? Check. Longwinded but entertaining dialogues? Check. So on, so forth. Still, you get a feeling that Ritchie has used up all his arsenals and is just polishing his same old gardening tools and trying to repurpose them.

The characters are interesting, but you are not going to remember them much after the flick is over. Sure, they were entertaining, but who are they? I even can’t quite place McConaughey as to his redeeming quality is concerned. He is involved, but he can’t involve us.

But the film is entertaining where it need be, I suppose. The cast has fun where they should. The script offers some interesting but not surprising twist and turns, as it is wont with Ritchie’s earlier body of work. Still, I felt something lacked…perhaps the originality. Something fresh.

Maybe Ritchie is completing his first circle, going back to the genre that catapulted himself into the consciousness of the filmgoers all over the world (I was in Singapore in 1999, walking into a theatre that allowed R-rated films and was pleasantly shocked and entertained by the audacity and the surprise after surprise offered by Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, still Ritchie’s best in my book).

If you know what to expect from a Guy Ritchie film, you are not in for a surprise. If you do, it’s routine and you just finish your popcorn and forget about it till you see it in cable or something. Ritchie hopefully will be surprising us in his Phase 2.

In short, I suppose I have fallen into that “overgrown the genre” category. I certainly marvelled at Ritchie’s take on Sherlock Holmes, just like how I enjoyed Tarantino’s take on the western, but I felt that I got nothing else to look forward to as far as Ritchie’s bag of tricks is concerned. Maybe he needs to do a biopic or something. You know, the old “reinventing” trick. It kept Clint Eastwood busy into his ninth decade of life, and seventh decade of career….

The Call of The Wild (2020)

Let us not kid ourselves, Harrison Ford is not a stranger to partnering with a dog on screen. Look, I am not insulting Chewbacca…he was inspired by George Lucas’ Alaskan Mameluke, which was called Indiana, which was Ford’s name in The Raiders of The Ark.

To summarise that, Ford has now been paired again with a furry canine which was based on a dog that has the same name as Ford in Raiders Of The Lost Ark and the sequels. Get it? Are we clear? Can we move on? Wait…ah, fudge it!

That’s right, based on my curse word, you can safely assume that this is a very safe flick. It was produced by Disney and you are assured of the best cute, heart-warming, fuzzy, hot cocoa during cold night moments in this film. If you like a movie about a man and his relationship with a dog, in this case, a St Bernard collie.

There is no excessive violence, no curse words, no strong tension….and what will intrigue you if you haven’t been watching CGI creatures the last three decades is that the dog is entirely computer-generated.

Speaking of the three decades, if you are like me, there is a tendency for you to notice the slight unnatural movement or the overtly natural facial expressions on the big dog. You might be finicky, anal in the beginning, but like me, I hope, you will get along with the story and will love the big doggy.

I am not a dog lover by any chance, I am a cat person, which means I am evil naturally. But that’s a story for another day, and I tell you this: Ford works well with furry creatures. I mean, working with a “walking carpet”, reacting to it as humanely as possible is one thing, but spending shitload of time being intimate with a tennis ball at the end of the stick is another entirely.

There was easy chemistry between Ford and the doggy as it developed over time…as the furry one slowly melts the crusty old man’s heart. The dog itself starts to develop its character in front of us and manages to sit in well in our consciousness as a lovable creature that was lost in the beginning and was leading in the end.

I admit that being a non-dog lover (no, not a hater), I took some time to warm up to Buck, the dog. But the team behind its pixelated creation managed to pull off the most unbelievable thing, they actually made it have strong chemistry with Ford’s character so much so that you will get emotional at crucial moments.

I have not read Jack London’s novel, so I can’t quite talk about how faithful it is…that is beside the point. The film was lovingly shot, in a gold rush era winter, and is about how this dog, starting out meek like and later err…mans up to the point that it was able to lead a team of sledge-pulling fellow CGI dogs. You may form an attachment to the CGI dog as Ford has, but I couldn’t help but remind me that it was not real…that is not helpful information, or it would have made the experience much more fun and emotional as it was supposed to as the movie started to close in on Ford’s relationship with it.

And so, I have a mixed feeling about this film. It is a wonderfully warm film about the relationship between man and dog if you haven’t seen other wonderfully warm firm about the relationship between man and dog. And as a fan of Ford’s…. I felt he was okay but too iconic in our eyes to see him especially in vulnerable spots. But that’s my fault.

And so, the heart-warming aspect will tickle your fancy, especially kids though they may find some part boring. Otherwise, this is not an award-bait film, and neither is it going to be remembered when Ford gets his Lifetime Achievement Award…oh, he got it already. Damn.