Sirius White

Every now and then, I like to use my blog to expound on some ridiculous issue that fills my time for the moment. I also like to use my blog to draw more attention to myself than I really deserve. This week, I promise to satisfy my readers by fulfilling both expectations.

 For your consideration this week, I would like to talk about race, particularly as it applies to the future of Singapore. Now, I know race is the touchiest of the touchy subjects in this city, but I promise to address it with enough wit and whimsy that it can’t be taken seriously enough to scandalize its audience.

Can anyone tell me what percentage of Singapore is white? I suspect it’s in the low single digits. If the population is 4 million (it’s actually a bit more than that, yah?), then 1 percent is 40,000. Even if we’re generous and say white people make up about 2% of the population at 80,000, that’s still not very many people. In fact, in the grand scheme of things, my people, be they PR or citizen, are a pretty insignificant population. We’re certainly not a target audience during election times, and I can’t imagine the guv’ment trying to go out there and get the Whites on board with the new GST hike. (for explanation on why I use the word white, please read http://misterryan.wordpress.com/2007/05/09/almost-famous/ )

So, if we make up such a small, tiny, insignificant percentage of the population of Singapore, why do we seem so ridiculously over-represented when it comes to arts events?

Let’s give some cases-in-points:

Sunday, 21 October, 4pm: There was a drum circle on the front lawn of the Arts House, because this Latin Band was in town for a festival, so they laid out their instuments and we all took turns jamming on them. I would estimate the audience of about 60 people was 50% white.

Saturday, 28 October, 7pm: I was having  a sunset picnic in the Botanic Gardens. We were going to be watching a evening screening that they set up on the symphony stage. Those of you who’ve read my ‘about’ page know I love Sundays at the botanic gardens, but good thing the friends I was eating with were Filipino and Japanese, because otherwise once again white people were far over-represented beyond our 2% allowance. I would estimate us as about 20% of the audience, but it was dark, and sometimes the Eurasians come out after dark when you can’t see them.

I could continue with this list, talking about a show I saw at the National Library, or a series of short plays performed at Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts. But I wanted to bring up the first two because it’s important to mention they were FREE. So it’s obviously not that the whites are loaded with money.

On a shallow level, where are all the Singaporeans for these events? I know the mindless criticism they were all at the mall isn’t true because beaches, pools and libraries are also jammed on weekends. It seems to be they’re consciously choosing not to go things which may be labelled as “high art.”

On the deeper level, all these events I go to (and there are always lots of things to go to in Singapore if you make a little effort), are subsidized by Singaporean tax dollars. The Singaporeans–ie your parents and sometimes even you–are paying for lots of arts events you actually have no interest in going to. Singapore’s tourism and economic development boards are marketing this country as an ‘arts hub.’ But does anyone here actually care?

Have I given up the movies?

Maybe it’s just a phase. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. I’ve checked my ears, and they’re not getting hairy. My back doesn’t hurt, nor do I feel the urge to complain about young people these days and how they don’t appreciate how good they’ve got it. Nonetheless, I must be getting old, because I’m finding myself absolutely riveted by documentaries.

Growing up, I always associated documentaries with old people. They’re what my grandpa would watch on TV. They were usually about WWII, and they were always dull. I felt like it was a requirement all documentaries must be dull. Now that I’ve been through film school and I’m a working writer, I’m willing to appreciate lots of different types of the film form, but the documentary still held out on me. 

 Yet over the past six months, I find my appetite for documentary movies has been satiable, maybe because one after another has been really, really good. I’m not talking about all the Discovery Channel/Animal Planet/History Channel stuff, where there are so many docs every week that most of them are mediocre. I’m talking about feature documentaries, the kind more exciting than Hollywood blockbusters, but also get swept under the rug.

I watched this documentary called Bus 174 about this Brazilian guy who held a bus hostage during rush hour. The movie showed almost the entire stand-off but offered incredible insights about what would lead someone to be so desperate as to hold hostages on a city bus. Even better it was never boring.

 I watched a movie called Capturing the Friedmans, which was supposed to be about New York City’s most successful clown, but ends up as a movie showing the emotional destruction of a family after the father goes to prison for being a child molestor. I checked out Hearts of Darkness, about how directing Apocalypse Now drove Francis Ford Copolla to the edge of madness, which is all the more amazing for any of you who know what Apocolypse Now is about.

I was feeling gutsy, so I decided to check out a documentary that surely must be boring, so I can be reminded some are definitely dull. That was how I came upon Spellbound, which is about primary and middle schoolers preparing for a national spelling bee. And it was incredible!! How can a movie about spelling be interesting? I can’t explain it. All I can tell is that not only did I care about many of these characters, I was on the edge of my seat by the time the spelling bee arrived. I wanted to know who was going to win. Maybe that was part of the difference. Because it was a real event, I knew the filmmakers couldn’t change the ending to please the audience. I always know Spiderman is going to win, and Shrek will be happy, and the Simpsons will remain a family, and good will defeat evil in Fantastic Four and Die Hard and Harry Potter. With these movies, there is genuine suspense and excitement. What a myth that I carried believing documentaries have to be dull.

I’ve also now watched Murderball, Super Size Me, Brother’s Keeper, Born Into Brothels, Keep the River on Your Right, Thoth, and Jesus Camp. The string of good movies doesn’t stop.  

Right now I’m watching a movie called Paradise Lost, about a horrific killing of three young boys in middle America. The murder is so awful and upsetting that the community comes to believe it must be the work of devil worshippers, and arrests three teenage boys because they wear black and listen to heavy metal. The whole community thinks they must be guilty (one woman I watched says “They must have done it; just look at ‘em”) even though there’s no evidence linking them to the crime. I was engrossed in this drama, and I bet my students would be too, many of whom also wear black and listen to heavy metal music and get teased and called “emo” because of it. I’m not at the end of this movie yet, but I’m already nervous because I know it’s not like Hollywood, that the true killer won’t appear out of nowhere and all the problems will be solved perfectly by the end so we can all go grab some dinner at Pastamania before we dance DDR.

I won’t spend too much time on a commercial here, but I will tell you it’s a tragedy we have so many documentaries at the library, and they’re hidden away up in the academic section when they’re better than so many of the lame movies in the lifestyle section. Please, if you have other documentaries you think I should see, respond to my post, because I’m insatiable right now.

I can’t believe I wasted all these years thinking they were boring.

Rah-Rah-Rah

 

I’ve never been much of a fan of patriotism. It’s hard for me to assemble in groups. I don’t like sing-alongs. When you’re in an audience and the host asks your half of the room to scream real loud, I’m always the one who screams just loud enough no one will get mad at me while carefully looking for the quickest exit.

 With all those things being said, it might surprise some of you I had no problem competitng in the FMS staff dragonboating competition. Call it exercise, call it comraderie, call it ridiculous, but there I was, pretending I wasn’t skinny while rowing a boat.

 For those of you unfamiliar to the sport, it involves 20 people (10 on each side) rowing their oars as hard as they can at the same time as everyone else. The less individuality you have– the more you conform to doing the same thing as those around you– the more likely you are to succeed. I scoff at myself for enjoying it so much.

I had two practises leading up to the big day. The first, at the NP pool, involved rowing with my oar upside down while people would come around and tell me to both straighten & bend my arms, and lift my arms up higher while relaxing. At least the second time I was allowed in the boat. It was then that I learned not only is dragonboating hard on the arms, it’s a nightmare on the butt! Those fiberglass seats were not designed for two hours of rowing. But if there was anything we were united in, it was the necessity of $5 IKEA seat cushions (please see the photo below for various uses of IKEA seat cushions)

 While I’m sure this all well and interesting, the question you’re surely wondering is, “Did you win or not?” The answer is most certainly….we did not. We really didn’t come in close. Actually, we may have sort of come in last. There’s something abou that which causes my independent heart to rejoice. Maybe if we had all rowed our own way at our own speed, or maybe if we had had a lovely picnic instead of rowing, we would have felt more successful.