We drove past a road accident the other night.

One car slightly smashed, one motorcycle standing on its handlebars (wheels facing the sky), one motorcyclist lying on the road, barely conscious, one person holding him.

It was causing a bit of a traffic jam. Vehicles were slowly moving around it.

Seeing this from further away, I had whipped my camera out instinctively. But, almost at once, I asked myself: Why the hell do I want to photograph someone’s misfortune?

I tried to find justification. Newspapers do it all the time. Blogs do it all the time. CNN and CNA and BBC and whatever, they’re full of it. It’s about sharing. People want to know what’s happening around the world, around them.

But it made me feel evil. Like I was capitalising on someone else’s misery. And to what end? To show off that I witnessed an accident? To have an interesting blog post?

When we inched nearer the scene and I saw the hurt motorcyclist looking like he was in pain, I felt terrible. I couldn’t bring myself to start snapping away. It just felt wrong, for reasons that eluded me.

I made a half-hearted attempt to snap a quick picture, telling myself to stop being a prude, but I didn’t take the time to focus and hold the camera steady. The picture turned out too blurry to see anything. I deleted it.

I put my camera back into its pouch.

I guess I could never be a journalist.

Well, I think it’s not entirely wrong to take photographs of and report on disasters. Sometimes it’s for a good cause. Publicity could help people in trouble. Or, perhaps, people need to see such things to remind them to appreciate their lives more.

I suppose it disturbs me that accidents or tragedies might be used purely to sell more copies of a newspaper or to attract more visitors to a blog. It makes voyeurs of readers.

Not that I claim to be a saint of any sort. If, one day, I were to witness a four-car-pileup on a highway, I would take a picture because it’s not every day you see a four-car-pileup.

What I can’t do is take a photograph of a human in pain. It just feels like a terrible, terrible thing to do, unless doing so could actually help the suffering person.

I guess I’ll just have to stick to blogging about cute kittens and other inane things.

Categories: Regular Blogs
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I said yesterday I would post a video of my co-actors goofing around on the set.

But before you play the video, here’s a bit of background in case you didn’t actually read yesterday’s blog.

We were filming a scene for a comedy skit. The mood was happy and lighthearted. I was taking photographs with my co-actors and we were generally joking around with each other.

And then Sani deadpanned that “motivation” question.

“Director, what’s my motivation for this scene?”

If you’re an actor and know method acting, you’ll get the joke.

If not, well, it’s very funny because we were doing a very simple scene for a comedy skit. For corporate clients. To invoke method acting for such a situation would be like using a fire extinguisher to put out a lit matchstick.

So, while we were all reeling with laughter, Sani decided to take it further and improvise an Acting 101 lecture. He put on this silly instructional video accent and rattled off.

Unfortunately, I didn’t think to videotape him until the funniest parts were all gone. We were all laughing too hard.

But I did eventually think of it and started recording. I took over a minute of footage, laughed my ass off, and then proclaimed, “This is so going on YouTube!”

Sani turned to me in shock. “You got that on video??!!”

“Yes. Hahahaa roflmao.”

“Noooooooooooooo!!”

But then, Sani sportingly played along and launched into more lectures, with the help of Judy. This time, I got a better angle because I wasn’t doing it illicitly anymore.

And here’s what transpired:

.YouTube link.

Categories: Acting Journal
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The other day, I received a call inviting me to audition for the role of an office slut.

“Office slut? Hahaha…” I said.

“We have three roles, actually,” the producer said quickly. “The office slut is the leading role. Well, she’s not really an office slut. More like a sexy bombshell who attracts all the guys. There’s also a pretty bimbo and a smart accountant.”

When I got to the production office, I was given scripts and asked to read for all three roles. Although they had initially invited me to audition for the office slut aka hot mama role, both director and producer thought I was more suitable for pretty bimbo upon meeting me. They also considered me for smart accountant because they needed someone with good diction for that role.

A few days later, I got a call telling me I’ve got the leading role of the Hot Mama.

Huh?

I don’t have a sexy bone in my body, wat? I don’t even have cleavage. But I happily accepted the role. A job’s a job, y’know?

It was a three-day shoot for a corporate video. We were supposed to act out several funny skits to showcase a well-known company’s office equipment products. The video would be shown at an event for business associates.

Corporate videos are usually boring jobs. But this job was just awesome. The script was funny and fun to act in. The crew was friendly and jovial, the director had a great sense of humour and kidded around with us, the cast got along well. I was quite sorry when the three days ended.

Two of the actors were people i’ve worked with before.

There’s Peer, who was Master Chief at my Halo 3 jobs. He played the boss of this dysfunctional company we work at, and he was damn funny at it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t take a photo of him because I only took out my camera on the third day and Peer wasn’t on set on that day. Sheesh.

There’s Fish, with whom I’ve worked countless times. Including the Halo 3 job! Yeah, he was there, too, as one of the marines.

Fish played the role of Handsome Guy. Isn’t he handsome? Incidentally, you can catch Fish in the latest Singaporean movie, Truth Be Told, starring Yvonne Lim. Go watch! Support local productions!

We rested in this room whenever we weren’t needed.

This meeting room had been turned into a holding area, makeup unit, dining room and rest lounge. We spent the time here joking with each other when it wasn’t our turn to be filmed.

Fish pretended to be a job interviewee.

I camwhored.

How fun.

One of my scenes involved a photoshoot in corporate clothes where I had to flirt with Fish’s character.

The role was really quite a stretch for me. Really lah! I look nothing like a hot mama and my clothes are wrong. But it was a rush job and we had to make do.

The result of the mock photoshoot:

Group shot! Me and Fish with the crew:

The other actors weren’t involved in this scene so they were resting in the holding area.

Here’s Judy (with Fish), who played the Pretty Bimbo:

And Janna (right), who played the Smart Accountant:

This was when they just arrived and haven’t gotten into costume yet.

We did this funny scene where we were all talking on the phone at the same time.

It was hilarious. In fact, the whole three days were hilarious. Comedy is so fun!

Director Zul is a superman. Apart from being the director and scriptwriter, he is also the DOP and cameraman.

For this scene, he took on one more role: soundman.

This is the first time I’ve seen anyone operate a camera and boom mike at the same time on a panning shot! It was amazing but so funny!

There was a lot of lighthearted banter between takes.

When the crew was busy setting up, Sani (who played the Office Secretary and my character’s main love interest) put on a straight face and asked the director, “Director, what’s my motivation for this scene?”

Which was funny because it’s a bit redundant to use motivations (an acting technique) for a short comic corporate video.

Laughter all around.

“Your motivation is to do a good take so I won’t fire your ass,” said Zul.

More laughter.

I’m paraphrasing the director, of course. I don’t remember his exact answer but it was funny like that.

Inspired thus, Sani decided to give an impromptu Acting 101 lecture. He put on this stupid accent and launched into his lecture to no one in particular.

Of course, he didn’t expect me to switch my camera to video-capturing mode. I captured a minute of his silliness before he realised that someone was videotaping him.

Hahaha!

Will post the video tomorrow. Watch out for it!

Categories: Acting Journal
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Many of my readers apparently still don’t know who the Goonfather is. So, today, I’m going to explain.

He’s my partner, my other half, my significant other. Not my father or godfather or anything like that.

He’s called The Goonfather because he likes to do goondu things. There’s a small story behind the name, but I’ll post that in a new About page when I have time.

So. A few weeks ago, the Goonfather’s elder sister invited us over to her new place for dinner. (She’s married with two kids.) The dinner was to be today, to celebrate Oktoberfest.

When we received the invitation, I had this conversation with the Goonfather.

“Should we bring something?” I asked.

“For?”

He looked surprised, even though we’d gone through this conversation countless times.

“When people invite you over for dinner, it’s good etiquette to bring something,” I said mechanically, because I’ve said it so many times.

“Like?”

“Wine, chocolates… I dunno.”

“Ok lor we bring wine.”

Now, fast forward to today.

Afternoon time, the Goonfather was SMS-ing with his brother-in-law about the dinner tonight. Brother-in-law was picking up pork knuckles, sister was baking a cake for us. They’ve got German beer and good wine and I don’t know what other goodies and yummies.

The Goonfather turned to me and said…

“Wah, they preparing so many things for us. I feel damn paiseh.”

“Then we bring something lor,” I said, about to go into my practiced speech.

“Bring what? Washing machine?”

“…”

“Bring washing machine for ****?!!” I sputtered.

“Housewarming mah.”

Tell me he isn’t the gooniest person you’ve met.

Anyway, I gotta go. Just popped home from auditions and errands, resting a bit before going for dinner.

Er… Selamat Hari Raya!

(Funny we’re celebrating Oktoberfest today.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dictionary:
Goondu = Malay for idiot, moron (used affectionately and without malice sometimes)
Paiseh = Hokkien for embarrassed, ashamed, shy

Update:
The Goonfather wishes to state for the record that the word “goon” actually means “A thug hired to intimidate or harm opponents“.

Right. Ok.

Categories: Regular Blogs
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Should I do it?

I know everyone’s first reaction will be a resounding “NO”. But I see smoking as a “skill” that I’d need to learn, sooner or later.

Once in a while, I get a role which requires me to smoke. I’ve tried to fake it twice… without much success. I look so goddarn fake on TV that I want to bayonet myself.

I thought I could pull it off, you know. I observed smokers. I got smoker friends to coach me. I practised with an unlit cigarette. I learned how to draw the “smoke” into my lungs and blow it out, without the smoke, of course. Easy peasy.

What I didn’t, couldn’t, prepare myself for was the moment of impact. Cigarette smoke does not agree with virgin lung.

Who would have thought smoking could be such an excruciatingly painful experience?

I mean, I take in second-hand smoke all the time, everywhere (before the new smoking law was passed). I hang out with smokers. I live with a smoker. I don’t like it, but I can deal with it.

I really thought I had it nailed.

But when the camera started rolling and they popped a lit cigarette in my mouth, my lungs screamed bloody murder. Before I could even fully inhale my first puff, my protesting lungs tried to kill me by forcing me to cough a kidney out.

Disaster.

It took several takes for me to master the pain of the smoke slicing into my lungs. I made like I was inhaling smoke but I actually kept it all in my mouth. Of course, some errant smoke would invariably sneak its way into my lungs, making me cough and spoiling the take, but it was easier to manage than the full onslaught of wilful inhalation.

I survived my first smoking scene. Barely.

Second time I had to smoke in a scene was four months later, I thought I could do better already. After all, my lungs weren’t virgin anymore. They could jolly well take the abuse.

I practised for the scene, again with an unlit cigarette. I practised looking like I was inhaling without actually inhaling. I was good to go!

Wrong again.

My lungs, my stupid lungs, went into mutiny at the first lick of errant smoke wisping south. This time, they made me cough my liver out.

Disappointing show.

Having to control the coughing, my performance became strained. Not good.

That’s why I told myself: The next time I get a smoking role, I will learn to smoke for real. If I have to become a smoker, so be it.

Nothing wrong with being a smoker, is there? Like, half the population of the world smokes.

So now, I got my third smoking role.

Problem is that it’s a four-minute short film. The smoking scene will run for as long as is needed for me to light a cigarette and take one puff. Is it worth it becoming a smoker for this?

The artist in me says yes. I must do it well this time. In the film, I want to look like I’ve been smoking my whole life. I owe it to the director and to my integrity as an actress to do the best I possibly can, even if it’s just for a five-second shot in a four-minute film that will possibly only be seen by a handful of people.

After all, I have to start sometime. This will probably not be the last smoking role I’ll get.

The worrier in me says hold it.

The director, finding out that I don’t smoke, had offered to think of an alternative that might achieve the mood he wants for that shot.

I said I didn’t mind picking up smoking just to do that shot well.

He said we’ll discuss it further down the road. Maybe do a test to see how I look smoking. If I really can’t handle it, he’ll rewrite the shot.

But I don’t want a director’s work to be compromised on account of me, so I want to do the smoking scene and do it well.

Only I worry about the consequences. I worry about addiction. I have zero willpower when it comes to addiction, as can be attested to by the inordinate amount of time I spend on computer gaming and by the terrifying amount of fried chicken I eat.

If I really get addicted, I will have a hard time kicking the addiction because half my regular hangout friends are smokers.

I worry about the cost of supporting a smoking habit.

I worry about the damage to my lungs and hair and teeth and complexion.

I worry about becoming like one of those disgusting bloody plctures on cigarette packets I’m forced to look at every time a friend whips out a packet.

Everything just points to a huge neon sign saying “Don’t do it.”

But I must. If I can’t give my best shot to something I’m really passionate about, then what the hell am I doing alive?

Maybe I won’t get addicted. Maybe I can practise just enough to pass off convincingly as a smoker but not get addicted.

Maybe it’s the mindset. If I refuse to get addicted, maybe I won’t?

There are people who are social smokers, aren’t there? I don’t understand them, though. I’ve studied substance abuse and addiction in psychology class. I learnt that tobacco causes a physical addiction that is hard to fight because of the bodily demands inflicted by the addiction. So you either just smoke your lungs dead or you quit and never look back.

How do social smokers smoke only once in a while without craving to smoke all the time?

That’s what this blog entry is about, actually. I’m wondering if people who have smoked could share your experiences. Tell me what it’s like. Whether you’re a chain smoker or social smoker or only tried it once in your life, I’d like to hear your views.

When does the addiction kick in, in the first place? I mean, I’ve tried to smoke twice and both times I nearly died doing it. No way in hell would I ever want to do it again without good reason.

So why would people continue smoking despite the trauma of the first puff, and how many sticks does it take for an average person to get used to it and start enjoying it?

Do I have a chance of just doing it for a couple of weeks and then stopping?

All comments will be much appreciated.

Categories: Acting Journal
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