By Maia Engelbrecht
The film exemplifying the innovation of Singaporean youth had made the impact it set out to for a new generation. A fundraiser to restore the film and all of its glory. An almost unheard-of staple of Singaporean cinema. No, It was not the legendary ‘They Call Her… Cleopatra Wong’.
The Singaporean art scene is nebulous because it is not a region that fosters creativity in its entirety. However, its various restrictions cannot push something out of existence. Such acceptance that it does only allows one to remain ignorant to the possibility of a flourishing underground. The independent film scene, for example, exists as an anomaly because there has never been an emphasis placed on this part of the culture. Dragged away into the depths of obscurity because it failed to comply with the carefully crafted narrative that Singapore existed as an ex-pat friendly rest-stop; it was (and is) naturally defiant in the way it embraced the idiosyncratic individuals living in an uncompromising society. However, it does exist, and films such as ‘Eating Air’ are essential to let the world know that fallibility is not abnormal but a concomitant of adolescence, especially if that life is in Singapore.
As ‘Eating Air’ was released in 1999, the fundraiser to cover the cost of its digital restoration was initially decided on the date of the film’s 20th anniversary but was pushed back until eventually showing screenings in 2022. The result was a lively event, that, despite social distancing measures limiting ticket sales, still felt as if the theatre had been overflowing with its patrons. This suggested the impact this film had on a Singaporean audience had been rather substantial, likely more than many would have expected.
The film might’ve been a marvel of Singaporean cinema when it was released. The film managed to surpass several obstacles indie filmmakers were likely to face at the time; Jasmine Ng mentioned when filming she could “feel her stomach in her throat” when thinking about the potential cost. The independent and immature nature of the film was apparent. It might have been a film with minor deficiencies here and there, however, what saw the movie through was its endearing passion accentuated through every ambitious venture in its cinematography and story.
The film has no restraints in terms of its creativity. Classified as a “Kung-Fu Motorcycle love story”. The film’s appearance might initially convince one of an asinine sense of humour with little substance to engage. However, throughout the watch, you realise that amongst the juvenile gags and jokes, the film never takes itself so seriously that it isn’t funny. The humour, while generally being slapstick, works to re-establish the characters by highlighting their egocentrism and grounds itself in moments of vulnerability. The film does this as it portrays a desire within its characters, demonstrated through their novelised aspirations until they eventually become disenchanted through their fault. The inevitability of the story; a bleak ending with a disillusioned entourage of characters after enduring such ordeals that remind them of their vulnerability, a coming of age narrative many might be familiar with.
Within The story of ‘Ah Boy’, his view of the world is largely influenced by the stories he’s seen in film and other media, antagonising those who fit the role of evil and romanticizing those who don’t. His inflated sense of self-importance eventually led to his undoing.
Co-director, Kelvin Tong even expressed in an interview with Singaporean Newspaper TODAY that ‘Eating Air’ was about “Bored kids trying to make a boring place just a bit more magical”.
The importance of this film may very well be to represent those who refuse to fit a mould.
As with most indie cult classics, it’s a film that many can’t help but love, or at the very least, be in awe of. An inspiration for all of indie cinema, because what does the term ‘eating air’ mean if not making the best out of a bad situation.
Eating Air is currently streaming on Netflix