Tekkonkinkreet was the opening film of Animation Nation 2007. I watched it last night at the National Museum and was bowled over by how good it was. The animation was seamless as silk, smooth as butter. The characters were endearing and convincing. The artwork was amazing (check out the link for examples). And the most important thing, it was a damn good story.
There are two main characters in this story: Black and White, both orphans who live in the street. Black is strong and smart; White is naive and imaginative. The film opens to White with mucous running from his nose. He pulls on a roll of toilet paper attached to his waist, and the audience is sold, immediately. And we're not even five minutes into the film.
But the admirable thing about this film that it doesn't build only on the natural sympathy audiences have for young orphans, it also manages to make the audience feel empathy for every character in the film. Seriously, I felt for all of them: Gramps the hobo, Fujimura the detective, Sawada the frigid young policeman, Suzuki the Yakuza, Kimura the father-to-be... All of them seemed real and believable to me.
This film is about the demise of a city. It is a swan song, sung by delinquents, hobos, gangsters and policemen. At the heart is the yin-yang philosophy, that black needs white, and white needs black. This film is replete with religious symbols. The fundamental philosophy is the Taoist yin-yang, yet it includes the Hindu god Ganesh, the symbolism of the wounds in the hands, to the statement by Black that he does not believe in anything, to even a quote of faith being the "evidence of things unseen".
I teared up watching this film. I'm not sure what it was that got to me. Perhaps it was the emptiness of the city. Perhaps it was when White lay on the floor in a pool of blood. Or perhaps it was when White said, "God made us broken. With missing screws....... I've got all the screws that Black needs. Every single one."
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Tekkonkinkreet
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Soft like the yolk of a Japanese egg
I've become soft. I'm actually tired from sitting here and listening to lectures all day. Like that how to start work next year? Sure die one. Sigh.
I'm tossed about like a sampan without an anchor.
My similes are nonsensical. But it doesn't matter.
Tonight I will meet a few old friends to buy a pendant for the-girl-who-is-going-to-work-in-Shanghai.
First time doing live blogging...
.....and getting paid for it!
:)
Today's my second day doing live blogging at a conference. I'm still feeling my way around—not too sure if I'm writing with the right tone, if I should do a podcast, etc — but what the hey, I'm getting paid!
(It's cold here. My Macbook Keeps Me Warm.)
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
My Rubber Chicken
I have a rubber chicken that makes me laugh. I took it from my friend's two and a half year-old daughter. My friend asked her daughter if Aunty Mis_nomer could have the chicken. She looked at the me, looked at the chicken, hesitated for a split second, and said, "Yes. It's gross." Hahaha!
Rubber Chicken Against a Wall
Rubber Chicken Roadkill
Rubber Chicken Laying an Egg
My Rubber Chicken and I have hours of fun together. ;)
Monday, November 19, 2007
What I'm having for breakfast
I love the red bowls, cup, spoon and chopsticks, don't you?
Fish ball kway tiao (noodles) : $2
Coffee : $0.40
Friday, November 16, 2007
iDream
Last night I dreamt of a huge swimming pool. It was enclosed in a
cavernous hall, so large that I couldn't see the end of it; so deep
that I couldn't see the floor. The swimming pool belonged to my
College roommate Jill. She told me that the pool had been disused
for the longest time, and they had to spend a lot of time and effort
in cleaning it up and getting it ready. I asked her how deep it was,
but she looked at me and shrugged.
Then, because the water looked cool and clear and there were people
frolicking in the water, I asked her if I could swim in it, but she
said that I couldn't, because I was of the wrong race, and that
having me in the pool would "dirty" it for others. So I walked about
the pool instead and joined a group of boys training by running among
the flowers.
Then I stopped because I was tired.
Read More!Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
The idea of a coffee
Friday, November 09, 2007
Fire-walking ceremony
It was strange stepping into a Hindu temple. I'd walked by this temple many times before; I'd looked at the piles of dusty slippers and shoes at the pavement by the door of the temple; but the other evening was the first time I dared to slip my sandals off, feel the clammy cement on the bare soles of my feet, and walk into the temple among the devotees.
It was the annual fire-walking festival.
The colours, smells, atmosphere was overwhelming. It was thick with religion. The courtyard throbbed with religious fervour; the white ash coal in the pit a visible symbol of the longing for penance, for a connection with the sacred. It was out of this world.
Seriously, it was hot. I could feel the heat of the pit from 100 metres away. The heat hit me in waves, and made me perspire. It made my toes clam up just thinking about exactly how hot it would be to walk on those coals barefoot.
Every year, devotees would walk through the pit of fire. I suppose they do it for various reasons—for penance, or supplication, or vow. They stoke the fire from evening and start walking at 1am. It lasts all night.
There is something universal about white hot coals as a symbol for purification. Remember when Isaiah was standing in front of the throne of God and he is devastated because he realises how sinful he is? And the angel flies to him with a live coal in his hand, and touches Isaiah's lips with the coal, and says, "See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for." (Isaiah 6)
I know that God has forgiven, but I don't always feel it. So I understand the irrational craving for the pain of purification.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
The Motive for Metaphor, by Northrop Frye
"The Motive for Metaphor" is the first essay in Northrop Frye's collection "The Educated Imagination". Metaphor is the basic building block of all literary work, hence "The Motive for Metaphor" is an essay justifying the place Literature has in society. As Frye says, “Every child realises that literature is taking him in a different direction from the immediately useful, and a good many children complain loudly this.” (15) Haha! Adults complain loudly too.
In this essay, Frye proposes that there are three levels of the mind, and three languages for each of them. There is the level of consciousness and awareness. The English of this level is that of ordinary conversation, full of adjectives and nouns, the language of self-expression. Then there is the level of social participation, and the English of this level is the working language of teachers and preachers and politicians and advertisers and lawyers and journalists and scientists. Then, there is the level of the imagination, which produces the literary language of poems and plays and novels. (22-23)
Science starts with the world we live in, and moves towards the imagination. Art, on the other hand, begins with the world we construct in our minds, and moves towards reality. The closer they get to the middle, the more alike they are: "A highly developed science and a highly developed art are very close together, psychologically and otherwise." (24) Just think about the quark and you will see what I mean.
However, this different starting point means that while science is constantly evolving and discovering new and wonderful things about the world we live in — an average scientist today knows more than Isaac Newton; it is different from art because art begins in the imagination, and so nothing is ever completely new. As far as tragedy is concerned, Oedipus Rex is it. It can't get any better than that.
This collection is really quite good. I'm tempted to buy it.
