Sympathy for the Devil

Spotted outside Big O Cafe at Wheelock Place:


...since when has SPCA's charter expanded to include demonic creatures?

A Question of Lust

Three years into our relationship, and my girlfriend and I will soon be going for a marriage preparation course. Hopefully, it will help us to decide if we should take the plunge, or cut our losses and run. Whatever the outcome, one thing seems certain for now: given our differing religious persuasions, we are destined for a rather sexless marriage. How fortuitious, then, that the organisers of 19th Singapore International Film Festival decided to screen Toru Kamei's Question.

Exploring precisely the role of sex in marriage, Question revolves around the lives of Jun and Mari, a young couple who eke out a bizarre existence in a Japanese suburb. They sleep in separate beds and don't even touch each other, leave alone have sex. Despite this, their relationship is as tender and genuine as it gets. For the year they've been married, Jun has been finding sexual release through alternative means. By the time of the film's opening, he has reached breaking point. What ensues is a poignant, engaging psychological drama as Jun and Mari attempt to reconcile their differences.

I liked how Kamei amplified the isolation of his characters through the film's stark, mundane feel. It worked at every level: the functional sets; the clean lines and strong whites in the cinematography; the sparse dialogue; the use of only two musical motifs (a skittery acoustic guitar and a piano piece); the literal nature of the film's title; the linear plot with a simple but meaningful twist, and tidy resolution. If films are days, then Question is a lazy, subdued, yet thoughtful Sunday afternoon. I love this aesthetic because it's close enough to real life to resonate with me, yet that much neater.

Not that my girlfriend would understand any of this, though. Prior to Question, she'd never seen any movie with full-frontal nudity in it, leave alone explicit sex. She must've been reeling from the experience, as her first reaction to the film was acute pity for the actress who had to bare her entire body for the camera. Little did she know that the joke was on her: pretty female lead Yunna Mizumoto is an Adult Video actress. (warning: the link is not work-safe)

That said, the sex in Question has none of the gloss of Japanese pornography. If anything, it has a quality of vérité: Kamei devotes several minutes of screen time to an intensely silent, continuous shot of a blowjob from the point of insertion to ejaculation. Lovemaking, when it occurs, is in turns desperate, tentative and clumsy. Despite the generous amount of onscreen copulation, however, Question does not glamourise sex. In fact, it shows an empathy for people who abuse it because they are unable to realise its full potential in the context of a relationship.

How fully my girlfriend and I will realise this potential, if we do get married, remains to be seen. But Question has certainly given us--especially her--some food for thought, and in a way that no straightlaced, institution-based marriage preparation course will ever be able to. I'm glad for that.

Second Chance

I was right.

I couldn't be sure, until that moment in the conversation where you let slip that you were thinking of getting back together with him. But then he dropped the bomb, and there was no turning back.

I wonder if you'll turn back to the other thing you walked away from recently. To be honest, I was pleasantly surprised--the last time we met, it seemed every fibre in you was set on crossing a line that would irrevocably divide us. As it turns out, a series of incidents blocked your progress in the intervening months. You eventually arrived at the realisation that you had all you wanted all along.

But let's not dwell on such heavy-going things.

You looked fabulous tonight--did you dress up just for me? You didn't have to, if all you were doing was coming from home, on a bus, to a place which is nowhere near the kinds of places that people dress up for. But you did. And sitting there, framed by the wall and table, I couldn't help but notice the details in you. I marvelled at your immaculate dinner etiquette, and struggled to hide my own ignorance of which knife to use.

When you spoke, I heard ambition, sensibility and depth. As you drew in a breath to laugh, I felt drawn in as well, and all of a sudden I wondered what it means to completely give oneself to more than one person in one's life.

The night ended earlier, and with far less solidarity than when we first met up. But it ended with just as much promise.

I want to see you again.