Woes: The Curse of Ciplak, Being Celup, Television and Corporate Prats

So, ‘Ciplak’ has been shown and all is done with it. Now, the only thing to worry about as far as that movie is concerned is the DVD, soundtrack (very overdue, I know) and perhaps a book on how I went about shooting the movie, since there are no reference books on the subject of getting a movie out in Malaysia (although the book will probably consist of pages from this blog, so I doubt you guys will be buying it).

Since then, I have been fielding offers to shoot things, no doubt stemming from the press I got from the movie as well as the Anugerah Skrin award I got last month. I am now an industry player.

And even though it’s my first month in the ‘industry’, I’m not enjoying it much.

With all the offers coming at the same time, I wanted to make sure I struck while the iron was still hot, even though it means having to come up with a lot of ideas - at least three telemovies, a tv series and plans for my next feature film, as well as writing other scripts that I’d already agreed to do a while back. Combine that with the studio, the record label, the current editing jobs, the music videos, and it makes for a very busy Khai.

But the workload isn’t really that much of an annoyance. I’ve had to deal with more than I can handle many, many times. No, what’s bugging me right now is doing things the proper way. Working with companies. As well as the stigma of making a 10k movie:

The Curse of Ciplak


Whilst the whole ‘10,000 ringgit to make a movie’ tidbit makes good press, it also brings up a question to producers: “if he can shoot a movie for 10k, why should we give him any more than that?”

This is annoying. Incredibly annoying. I’ve been working on super-low budgets for the past year and would like to have some financial breathing space where budgets are concerned so that I can at least pay my cast and crew, maybe rent a tripod and some lights, whatever.

Then there’s the flip-side, the result of the cheap production values of a 10k movie: “his production values are appaling! Can he do a ‘proper’ looking/sounding movie?”

This is doubly-annoying. For the record, 85% of the budget was used tobuy a camera, leaving about 2.5k to actually produce the fucker. What do you expect, De Palma dolly shots?

Being Celup


Then there’s the other stigma I’ve been noticing. I began to notice it at the after-party of the Anugerah Skrin and I’m noticing it even more now: people seem to think that, just because I wrote and directed a movie about urban, Westernized kids (or ‘Celup’s, as they’re sometimes referred to), people seem to think that celup-stories are all I have. And whilst it’s true that I still have some stories about this minor demographic rocking about in my head, there are other stories I want to do too, dammit! Genre stuff, horror, action, whatever, even straight up Malaysiana.

Television


Industry-wise, I’m still trying to understand television. I’ve only just understood the workings of the film industry, but it looks like television is a whole other ball game. The more I find out about things, the more it dissuades me, even though I really want to get into television because it’s a medium that interests me and there’s payment involved.

Yes, payment. I need to eat, dammit.

The lure of television has mainly been to keep my company afloat, more than anything. But the more I find out about how it works, the more I don’t want to touch it, even though I know I need to if I’m going to keep getting my name out there and get enough income to keep going. But the rules, good God, the rules! Language and content, that’s what’s sticking in my craw more than anything. Which is why I’ve made a rule to not do anything that’s too original or any idea that I care for too much when it comes to television because there’s a chance that the story could be warped by these rules. But I never realized how much they could be fucked with.

Corporate Prats


And finally, there’s the whole ‘corporate’ thing. The ding-dong-ing of approval through different levels of chains of command. The numerous comments that get filtered down to you after two weeks of waiting. Protocol? Fuck protocol! I’m sick and tired of protocol! I now find myself working with clients again, and especially on some more ‘corporate’ jobs, it feels like I’m in advertising again. Why? Because I can sense the cold, hard dick of the client thrusting up my rectum, that’s why. And the second he cums he’s gonna shoot a flurry of stupidity-semen up my ass and expect me to take it like a man.

Fuck that.

But I guess the main problem I’ve been having this month is an amalgamation of all this: the balance between wanting creative freedom and needing to balance the books. And whilst I know I have the ability to work out business strategies and documents and finances and accounts (but not actual accounting) I hate doing it because just thinking about it gives me huge migraines. I was working on a budget for a short film the other day and that alone gave me a killer headache that stuck with me the whole night, panadol be damned. I want to tell the stories I want to tell, but I need to figure out the money side.

Sigh… I need a sugar mommy.

Remember, Remember, The 22nd of December

It’s incredibly fucking rare, but sometimes, just sometimes, you get a perfect day.

The last time this happened I was too stupid to write down the date. All I know is that it was a Wednesday in my first year of Uni, as Spring was gradually turning into Summer. It was a day where nothing necesarily went incredibly well, but nothing shit happened, which was a rarity in itself. I chilled out with friends, shot some 8mm footage with my new camera, the sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, and later that night we got to see our friend dressed as drag on stage in a University Union ‘Blind Date’ event. Doesn’t sound like much, but it was a day of fun and frolics that will never be forgotten,It was a good day the way Ice Cube rapped about how ‘Today Was A Good Day’ in the hood, and just like the second xXx Man Method and I felt inclined to write a song about that day, Wednesday.

But Friday, 22nd of December, was a different kind of good day. It was one of those days where, by the end of it, you think to yourself “it’s never gonna be this good again. I might as well check in to an asylum now before the shit hits the fan and I go cuckoo for real”.

It started off with a brand new pair of Nike Dunk Lows, a Christmas gift from clients who shall remain anonymous for now, but a great start to the day. After that I took a seat at the Curve and surfed on-line for a bit when a middle aged American woman came up to me with many plastic bags of Christmas shopping.
“Excuse me,” she asked, slowly and clearly, ”do you speak English?”

I said yes (deep down a little bugged that she may have thought that I didn’t) and she explained to me that she’s been trying to call her daughter but can’t find a working pay phone (a problem I wholeheartedly understand in this country since not a single pay phone in KL works). She asked whether she could use my phone. No problem. I passed it to her, she made her fifteen second call, then passed it back to me, incredibly grateful.

“Can I buy you a drink?” she asked. I declined.

“How about some money?” I declined again. It was only 15 seconds and she looked like she really needed a phone. She thanked me again and went over to the counter to get her a drink.

A beat later a hand appeared on my table to quickly drop a little Starbucks gift box. I turned just in time to see the American smile as she quickly darted away before I had a chance to decline. I opened the box: RM20 Starbucks gift certificate.

Merry Christmas indeed. I could get used to this yuletide cheer.

So, two Christmas presents later and I’m driving over to Tony’s. The day before I bought myself a Topman suit which would have felt dirt cheap in England (the whole line was called ‘60 pound suits’) but once converted into ringgit became quite a painful little expenditure, but a required one. Friday night was Anugerah Skrin night, and none of my suits fit my portly figure anymore.

Once pimped out, Tony and I went over to the PWTC. The red carpet was out for celebrities whilst fans waited at the side with digital cameras. My parents arrived and we walked into the hall, unknowns in a world of glitz and glam (or, at the least, the Malaysian equivalent).

Looking for an empty seat, by lucky chance I ended up next to Chermaine Poo, the model/actress/PR consultant/chartered accountant (intimidating? Quite) who Eddy had known from back in the day and apparently wanted to meet up to discuss possible future projects. We chit-chatted for a bit as we waited for the ceremony to start.

The event itself was… odd. For me, at least. I didn’t know half the people here but knew they had a certain degree of fame. The actors and actresses that I did know were the ones I used to watch when I was a kid, and it was a bit of a shock to see how much time had passed.

It was also a shock to see how many fine looking Malay women there were in the entertainment industry. But a pleasant shock, nonetheless.

As the entertainers entertained, announcers announced and eulogies were eulogised, that feeling in my gut was there: would Ciplak win Best Alternative Cinema? I was told there was a good chance due to the publicity and press of the movie, but I didn’t know. In all honesty I’ve never really won anything in my life. Whilst most guys have at least one or two medals or trophies from their school years I have none. I tried in advertising and always failed. Why would this be any different? Besides, the more you don’t win these trinkets and trophies, the more you question their actual worth. Are they deserved? Are they really that important? All these thoughts were running through my head.

And then Erra Fazira, Umi Aida and (I can’t remember her full name but she was pretty hot too) announced the winner for ‘Sinema Alternatif’. The winner was ‘Ciplak’. And I was stunned.

So stunned was I that when Tony burst into the air screaming and Eddy yelled his lungs out in the distance I was still sat down thinking to myself “what the fuck are y’all motherfuckers doing?” before it sunk in. Ciplak won. I’ll be damned.

Everything after that was pretty much a blur: I got up, took the award, a big-ass grin on my face, stuck it out in the air, walked backstage, some PA came and grabbed me for an interview outside, I freaked out when I realized it was in Malay but they said I could answer in English, the PA then pulled me over to another room for press interviews, and finally I found myself in the makeshift cafe next to the hall drinking a teh ais and smoking like mad, a constant stream of congratulatory SMS’s coming in, a big-ass award next to me, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Eddy and his boss (who were both partly responsible for this Media Prima event) popped over after that to give me manly hugs and we chatted for a bit before going back to the event just in time to catch the end. My mom and dad gave me more hugs before making their way home and I made my way to the after party of finger foods and orange cordial (yes, I know…). Once there, I met a friend of mine’s girlfriend who was now in a reality show by one of the sponsors of the event and a bunch of producers and media big wigs that Eddy kept pimping me out too. At the side I saw Bernard Chauly and went over to thank him for the KSFM series and told him that if it wasn’t for those events screening my short films I wouldn’t have had the courage to keep on shooting stuff. I was still in a daze, though, and couldn’t eat due to the tight, tight suit trousers (36 my ass!).
Finally, as the night came to an end and I’d changed out of my suit at Tony’s and made my way home. Days don’t come any better than this. The shit’s gonna hit the fan before I know it. But Friday, 22nd of December 2006, is one for the books.

The Pimpage Pays In Spades

“…we’ll need you to e-mail your CV and send us a showreel as well. We know you’re famous, but unfortunately it’s required.”

Roughly translated quote from a phone conversation this morning with a production company. I’m famous? That’s weird. Incredibly weird. Then again, there’s been a lot of positive press coverage these past few weeks, so I guess my face is plastered about everywhere. No cover shoots yet, though. Then again, can’t imagine what magazine would possibly want me on the cover.

“So, our choices for this months cover are Daphne Iking, Chermaine Poo, Hanah Tan, Marion Counter, Tata Young and some local indie filmmaker.”

“Has the indie filmmaker got nice tits?”

“Well, it’s a he, not a she. But he is quite tubby. Maybe if we get him to squeeze them together…”

“…er. No.”

The press on Ciplak has been amazing, though it hasn’t pumped up ticket sales over the past week. Whilst Cicakman hits a record number of RM350,000 on its opening day, Ciplak is struggling. The extended run helped a bit, but for some reason people seemed to have thought that Ciplak was only running for one day. It’s still in cinemas, dammit! Diana brought up a good point, though: the movie was never supposed to be in cinemas, so the fact that it is and a few thousand people are watching it is a good thing.

It’s also a good thing because it’s turned into the best calling card a filmmaker could hope for. Since the movie’s release I’ve been getting calls from two production companies to come up with some stuff on TV and a well known international company that may or may not want me to do a short film for them with a budget that they call modest but I reckon is enough to make me go all Bruckheimer on your ass. Producers want to meet as well as potential actresses (‘nuff said).

Where do these people get my number, though? At a meeting, I kept asking the company where they got my number. They simply replied,

“We have ways.”

In a way it’s kinda freaky. It’s one short step from “hi, we’d like you to direct an episode of so-and-so” to “I can see you sleeping.”

Fear of stalkers aside, the offers are good. My only worry, though, is whether I can live up to them. I’ve proven I can do stuff on a budget, but with a buget? And a crew? And a time limit? The expectations are kinda scaring me a bit, as well as the question that I get asked time and time again:

“So what’s your next movie going to be about? Any plans?”

My honest response? Haven’t a fucking clue. It’s the damn expectations, they’re kinda freaking me out. And I honestly don’t know what to do next. Should I continue with the stories of Jo? ‘Ciplak’ is actually the second part of a loose trilogy of three scripts I wrote with the same character. Or should I do the horror/action film I’ve always wanted to do? Or just a flat out action film? Or something more serious? Or what?

All I know is there’s a lot of writing to be done. Lots and lots. And I haven’t had much time to sit down and write any scripts yet, just ideas. Plenty of ideas. None of them crystalized. Till one of them does, I’ll keep fielding these offers and figure something out.

One thing I do know, though: I really, really, really want to make a movie in Malaysia with an 18 rating.

Aaarghh!!!

Godammit! Godammitgodammitgodammitgodammit! Fuck! Shit! Ass! Bitch! Minge! Quim! And other such utterances! Loud noises!!! LOUD NOISES!!!!

No, that did not make me feel better.

I have just returned from trying to become a licensed film producer and distributor. And to do so is more infuriating than anything I have ever encountered.

Firstly, I have to fill in two forms, both RM$2 each. No biggie there.

Then, I have to start up a Sdn Bhd company (or PLC, as you english speaking people would say) with a minimum paid up capital of RM$50,000.

That’s right. RM$50,000. With a fucking company secretary and all that other bollocks. All this after I’ve just received my company, FYI Films, as sole proprietorship.

Fuck. Beans.

Then, I have to pay a deposit of RM$1000 for each license together with a total monthly fee of RM$500.
All this, for the privilege of legally producing and distributing my movie by myself. Bearing in mind the cost of the movie was roughly RM$10,000, including the purchase of a decent 3CCD camera.

Fuck. BEANS.

And they say they want to help the local film industry. How exactly doesthis make it easier for me to show my fucking movie!? How, in the name of all things bright and fucking beautiful does this insanely ludicrous form of registration aid me in any fucking way?!

(Although, it has to be said, the guy I talked to was really nice and helpful. But still not helpful enough to loan me RM$50,000).

Grunt. Grunt. Grunt.

Ok. Calm now.

…

NO. I’m not calm. I’m reaching the furthest depths of my sanity to stop me from going to the hardware store in Uptown and buying a crossbow to go all medieval on people’s asses. Add to this the fact that I’ve hadone hour of sleep so far because my mom wanted to drag me to some goddamn ‘free’ massage table bollocks (that, for some insane reason, involves singing) which was obviously a con to get people to buy these stupid RM$8,000 beds and I’ve got work to do till 2am tonight andCitibank’s legal department is on my fucking ass like a rash.

Yes. Citibank. You warned me, and it happened. Of course, it wouldn’t have happened if I was still in Grey, but since I left I’ve skipped my monthly payments seeing that I need every penny I can scrape, beg and borrow just to feed me, my car and my nicotine addiction. I’ve got the money coming soon, but not soon enough. Now their legal department is on my ass. Just great. And I tried to call back and I can’t get through.
Fuck. Beans. Indeed.

Tomorrow I meet with the GSC people about the screening. I fear this may turn into the non-screening. Keep your fingers crossed for me people. I am having a truly horrific day.

Bean-fuckery.

The Good, The Bad and The Show-Off

First, the bad:

”Thank you for your submission of Bootlegs to the 32nd Seattle International Film Festival. Regretfully, I must inform you that Bootlegs has not been selected for participation in this year¹s festival…”
Bugger.
The e-mail then goes on with their formal apology and so-and-so’s. Ah, well. I kinda expected this, to be honest. I always knew Seattle would be a long shot but I was really hoping for it. It’s the biggest film festival in the States and I kept thinking about how cool it would be to go to Seattle to check out my film on the big screen.
At least they sent me an e-mail to tell me I wasn’t in. Closure…
Then, the good:

”Greetings from Stockholm! I hope this e-mail finds you well. We are very interested in your film ”Ciplak” for the 17th annual Stockholm International Film Festival 16-26 November, 2006…”
Wow. Singapore International Film Festival says no (well, more likeignores my entry), Seattle International Film Festival says no and I get an e-mail from the Stockholm International Film Festival.
Three S.I.F.F.’s in a row. Third time lucky, I suppose.
And in case you’re wondering how this happened, I’ve got Amir Muhammad to thank for that. He passed my e-mail to them, which I think is the coolest thing ever. In comparison to the independent music scene here, the filmmaking scene appears to be a lot more… what’s the word… friendly? More community-like?
I dunno. But dig this: I’ve never said more than three or four words to James Lee, he e-mails me a huge e-mail on ways to go about getting my movie on screen. I’ve met Amir Muhammad only in passing, never really having a conversation, and this is the second time the dude’s given me an opening to get my immature films on screen (the first being ‘Shortcuts’). I’ve hung out with [name censored to preserve his on-line annonymity] only a couple of times and he hooks me up with GSC.
These guys are helping others out in the scene without even knowing them too well. Compare that to the music scene where, sorry to say, a lot more backstabbing and cocksmoking goes on.
Then again, I could be wrong. If I don’t write about how my back aches from knife wounds and my mouth tastes of salty balls and semen a year from now, I guess it’s safe to say the local indie movie scene is a lot nicer and helpful.
(Not that I’d ever turn my back away from the music scene. You’re prying this guitar off my cold, dead hands!)
And now, the show-off: Another write-up for Ciplak came out over the weekend, this time in the New Straits Times on Sunday (or do I use the ‘Sunday Times’ name when referring to their output on this day of the week?) which I’ll upload soon. My old CD from Grey also sent over an mpeg of the last thing I worked on, a TVC for a kids drink which looks pretty much like how I imagined it to be.
And the studio is going swimmingly. We’re now onto the duller part of the job: accounts. Bleurgh…

What’s To Cut?

…not much, actually, and that’s what’s weird.

I read the document from the censorship board yesterday. And all I can say is this: I don’t understand the criteria. I really don’t. I mean, I’m glad that the movie’s going to be released, I’m glad there aren’t any cuts where I thought there would be, but I just don’t get it.

For starters, the movie’s going to be rated ‘U’. That’s right. ‘U’. ‘Accepatable For All Ages’. That, already, is weird. And you’d think, with a ‘U’ rating, they’d snip a shit-load, right? Nope. Any Tom, Dick and Harry can happily bring their child in to watch my movie, whereupon the child will leave the cinema wondering what a dirty sanchez is and ask his or her parents, friends and family members for the rest of her life. They’ll be able to hear the words ‘shit’ and ‘tits’ uttered repeatedly, they’ll be privvy to the ways of piracy smuggling…

But they won’t see any suggestive sexual poses on calendars.

That’s what needs to be cut, apparently. Two shots where my character flips through a calendar of women (scantily clad but notnaked) in suggestive poses.

For my next film, I’m just gonna shoot whatever I want and see what happens. I may be able to make my gross-out exploitative horror movie yet…

A Ciplak-y Autumn

(Although the fact that the only two seasons in Malaysia are ‘hot’ and ‘wet’ makes that title a bit redundant…)

Got a call from GSC this morning. The good news? Ciplak has been passed by the censorship board with only two cuts! Noonch-ness indeed. All that needs to be done now is the aforementioned cuts, the tweaks to the animation, some color grading if possible and a couple of test runs.

But with all good news there is also the bad - Although the specific date is not confirmed, Ciplak will only be appearing at the international screens of GSC in August. Maybe even September.

Arse-nuggets. Looks like my plans to release a movie before my 26th birthday are no longer feasible. But on the bright side, the movie was finished way before my 26th, so that’s cool beans.

Now comes the tricky part of trying to figure out how to work the promotions and media to my advantage, given the late release. There’s already been press coverage of the movie, even a review. But there’s still a couple of months before the movie is released. How to go about it… hmmmm… I shall need to put on my thinking cap and refer back to old advertising tricks.

Albeit cheap ones.

I guess it’s also a good thing that Ciplak isn’t being released slap-bang during the summer season spectaculars. Seriously, if you only had enough money to see one movie a month and it was a choice between Pirates of the Carribean 2/Superman Returns/Mission Impossible 3 and my shitty-ass RM$10,000 movie, which would you pick? Trying to choose between me and Johnny Depp/Brandon Routh/Tom Cruise ain’t no choice at all, regardless your gender or sexual alliance.

So August it is. That should give me time to get all my other shit in gear.