The reality of addiction

Requiem for a Dream (2000)
Director: Darren Aronofsky

The President of India, a rocket scientist and an overall good soul, once told his audience, "Dream is not that which you see while you sleep, but is that something that does not allow you to sleep." Don't jump about it; put it in action!

They also discuss the American dream, which states everyone has equal opportunity to achieve success and prosperity through hard work, determination, and initiative.

Yes, we can convince ourselves that we can do it. We should go for it, putting our minds and souls into it. However, the fact is that people win and people lose. Only some people are cut for it. A thin line exists between having the mojo to do it and not. One should recognise their shortcomings and jump on to Plan B, not forever flogging a dead horse.

Worse still, when one fails to pick up the telltale signs, one buries oneself deeper and deeper into a cesspool of self-defeating habits, hoping for a miracle to happen. When the going gets tough, one should know when it is time to get the tough going, when to retreat and live to fight another day. Failure to discern will spell disaster.

But how do we know our capability if we do not know ourselves to the limit? How do we know our breaking point unless we are stretched to the limit? The telltale sign must be when pharmacological agents get involved. Where does the concoction of ayahuasca with active ingredients like DMT (Dimethyltryptamine) and MAOIs (Monoamine oxidase inhibitors) fit in? Ayahuasca is a potent hallucinogen used to open portals inaccessible to human minds to explore one's true potential. Many ultra-marathoners in the desert of Mexico consume it to push their bodies to the possible human limits. 

Some have labelled this movie as one of the most disturbing films ever produced. It is not so much of the gore factor at play here; it is much the depiction of hopelessness one experiences when one is trapped in an addiction.

Loneliness, depersonalisation and self-prescribing are the greatest bane of modern living. Human interaction is so superficial. 

A widow, Sara, lives alone in her apartment. Her young adult son, a drug addict, occasionally goes AWOL, only to sell off his mother's goods for a bit of cash and a quick fix. The mother's constant companion is a TV, and her fixation with a particular game show keeps her going. Her only other human contact is when her neighbours sunbathe along the walkway.

One day, Sara receives a call that she will be a guest in a game show. She and her friends are all so excited. Sara plans to appear in a dashing red dress that she appeared in during her prom. For that, she goes on a diet spree and later gets prescription drugs. Sara loses weight, albeit slowly. So, she increases her dosage on her own, causing hallucinations and insomnia. She is finally institutionalised. 

Sara's son, Harry, tries to make money by reselling heroin at an inflated cost. He and his girlfriend have big plans of starting a boutique. Things do not go as planned. Harry, his girlfriend and his business partner are all heroin addicts. They decided to test out the merchandise that they sell. Things go spiralling down from then on. Harry even pimps his girlfriend to make ends meet.

A compelling story on the reality of addiction. 

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The Elusive Utopia

© Borderless Journal

When I was growing up, the radio was the musical score constantly playing in the background. Blaring between Tamil movie songs and radio dramas were news of the hour and current issue discussions. The things that got imprinted on my impressionable mind as I was transforming from a teenager to a young adult were about violence, wars and bombings. I remember about the war in Vietnam as it was close to home. For every peace talk and the end of war announcement, there would pop up another bombing and a barrage of casualties. My simple mind wondered when the war would end, but it never did. It went on for so long that they had a Tamil film in 1970 named Vietnam Veedu (House of Vietnam), referring to a household forever in family feuds and turmoil....

https://borderlessjournal.com/2024/03/14/the-elusive-utopia/

One World, One Love, One Vision?

Dedicated to a follower, HS, who enjoyed the post on Lotus and asked whether a 'one world' can ever exist where we do things for the greater good of mankind and where the need of the collective supersedes that of an individual.

We are told that race is healthy. The human race is moving forward from cave-dwelling nomads to space-exploring nations by this very trait, the race to be better than the other.

Nature is hostile. It does not care two hoots for the weak and the slow. It shows its mighty fury to those who cross its path. Only the fittest survive. Biology transmits this survival trait to the next generation so that the memory of how to thwart that adversity is implanted in their DNA.
But we are told we have six senses, unlike members of the animal kingdom. We have developed empathy and compassion for the weak and the downtrodden. Still, the only thing keeping us from killing each other is the law, fear of retribution for our actions in this life, the next, or the afterlife if rebirth is not on the menu. Communal living with rules ensured that even the weaker of its people would be taken care of, barring which nothing is going to stop from punching another blue-black or kicking away the walking stick of the invalid and laughing his eyes out. Lurking deep in the crevices of the grey matter is the dormant reptilian brain, which is triggered whenever the gatekeepers take a break. The desire to dominate is there. The carefree attitude of surrounding to the pleasures of the physical body can easily be bargained for.

The world has all the resources to meet human needs, but not its greed. The idea of universal equality is only a utopian dream which is as common as a flying pink elephant. When we are poor, we demand equality, fair play and a level playing field. The idea of socialism and communism fascinates us. As we climb the ladder of prosperity, our desire never to part with our hard-earned money declines exponentially. We realise that our wealth is worth every drop of sweat that comes through our pores. Parting was not just sentimental but unnecessary as we reminisced the hungry nights we endured in pursuit of prosperity. We tell ourselves life is very fickle and we must prepare for a rainy day. Some call it greed; others call it wise planning. Empathy knocks in a different form. We do not want our offspring to endure the hardship we had to experience. Also, leaving a legacy behind is nice! We are often told the need for one is only as important as the collective! It has been ingrained in us the idea that Lady Justice is blind to external interferences. She only metes justice as it is, irrespective of the offender's status, race, creed and intellectual prowess. What we are not told is justice is all about how deep-pocketed the suspect is. If favourable sentences are not obtained, one can go on and on higher on the levels of courts available in the legal system. Justice can be bought with all the money one can pay. For political offences, as judges have political affiliations, one wonders how impartial they are.

Even the treatment of various accused is glaringly different. A leader who foolishly (or wilfully) siphoned off the nation's coffers saunters to the court with his flashy designer suits, whereas a couple of mischievous motorcyclists who decided to film their dangerous motorcycle stunts get dragged to the courts in orange police-lockup overalls handcuffed under the flashes journalists' flash camera. And do not get me started on selective prosecution of political and even civil cases by the Attorney General Chambers. Those who followed the path of communism/socialism soon realised the longer it stayed in power, the more it looked like the systems it wanted to eradicate. It believed it wanted to replace the hegemony of Romanov over the peasant land. Fast forward, we see Russia being run by oligarchs. The short-lived satiety came to be replaced with hyperinflation and Kafkaian governmental squeeze. The distribution of wealth has a funny way of redistribution even if all the world's wealth is divided equally amongst its population. Experiences from COVID-19, slum population and national calamity are testimony to this.

All the things that we wanted the world to be - One World, One Vision, One Way of Thinking- are just piped dreams. Listening to Oprah and her talk show, we thought we could change the world with a rational Western way of thinking. Bob Marley tried to change the world with 'One Love' and his message to get together and feel alright. And Beatles with 'All You Need is Love'. Then we grew up. We realise that the economy has to trickle down. We cannot expect society to benefit solely from a 'trickle-up' economy. The world is chaotic; it will always be, and within that churning sea of chaos, there will be a constant flow that moves things forward. The little eddy currents happen, but the essential thing is the forward propulsion of the human race. Along the way, there are bound to be casualties of civilisations and people not acclimatised to change.

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Just passing through...

 Nanpakal Nerathu Mayakkam (Stupor of the afternoon, Malayalam-Tamil; 2023)
Story, Direction: Lijo Jose Pellisary

It may take a little background on Tamil movies (a lot actually) with some knowledge of Hindu teachings to fully appreciate the cryptic messages the director/storyteller is trying to tell his audience. A person not immersed or having lived in this environment may find it draggy. Since this is a 'Malayalam' movie made by one famed in the Malayalam film industry, I wonder if a person from Kerala will find the same connection to the film as one who hails from a Tamil background. The story's backstory is hidden in the numerous Tamil songs, including devotional ones and classic Tamil movies playing in the background almost throughout. The overhanging theme throughout is God, the purpose of life and the role we play in it.

We walk into life thinking we know everything that needs to be known. We make our own rules and are convinced it is correct. We admonish others for deviating from what we perceive as the right path. We all think we know the true way; all roads actually lead to Rome.

The movie starts with a small busload of Malayalam-speaking worshippers returning home after their pilgrimage to the revered Annai Vellangkanni Church in Tamil Nadu. The protagonist James is quite set in his ways of doing things. He believes one should be well-behaved even after the pilgrimage - like one should avoid alcohol and practice restraint on the way back.

The movie starts with a hint of what is in store via two nuggets. At the cashier, while paying his hotel bill, James discusses a poster on the wall bearing Thirukkal's quote. "Death is sinking into slumbers deep. Birth again is waking out of sleep." As the opening credit rolls in, a Sirgazhi Sundarajan song is introduced. It hints that we all leave our abodes searching for a place that is not there... not knowing that the truth lies in our hearts...

Like that, in the background, something is heard all the time. Be it in 1954, MR Radha's 'Ratha Kaneer', where the dialogue seems to hint that we are ashamed of our heritage and spoon over Western civilisation or in 1973 'Gauravam', where Sivaji Ganesan's dual roles argue whether a lawyer should game the system or fight for the truth. All these little vignettes will only make sense if the audience understands the context.

James, a strict Christian who takes pride in his Kerala background and Malayalam, gets up from a slumber on the journey in the middle of nowhere and walks out of the bus. Almost like an automaton, he enters a random Tamil household and assumes the role of a man who had walked out on his family. James transforms into Sundaram, a Tamil-speaking Hindu villager. Sundaram's family is puzzled, as James is not Sundaram. They are angry, but at the same time, Sundaram's wife thinks her prayers are answered. (In the background plays a Tamil song with lyrics 'Is there God?') James mingles with the villagers like he knows them forever. Sadly, nobody knows him, but they join him in revelry because he is fun.

The last journey. Nobody follows you to the very end.
Only your deeds and misdeeds do.

Meanwhile, James' wife and teenage son are trying to figure out what is happening.

The only beings who accept James' new role as Sundaram are Sundaram's blind mother (devoid of senses that sway her concentration), who spends all her time watching T.V. and Sundaram's dog (devoid of the sixth sense), which is quite happy with Sundaram.

After all the confusion, after another afternoon siesta, James resumes his previous role and continues his bus journey with his wife and son. In the background, the melodious voice of TM Soundarajan is heard belting the 1962 'Paadha Kaanikai' song 'Veedu Varai Manaivi' with all his pregnant meanings of life, put a connection to the whole direction to the story of the film.

We all come walking into life with nothing. We assume roles like we know what is expected of us. We accumulate wealth, sins, baggage, and relationships, making rules and regulations like we know all of life's secrets. Ultimately, we return to where we came from with only the deeds and misdeeds we did in this life. To play another role, like an actor, in another play, in another realm or universe, not knowing our past.

Interestingly, everybody in the film, the Tamil villages and the Malayalee guests, only speak their own mother tongues. Yet, they can understand each other. A staunch Christian of James can morph into a diety-prostrating Hindu with ease. It only shows we, as humans, understand each other perfectly well, only to be confused by these other hindrances, like language and religion.

Like a playful indulgence, the director must have thrown the movie's last scene when the pilgrims leave for their home in Kerala. It is reminiscent of King Yudhiistra and the Pandavas' last journey in the Mahabharata. A faithful dog was an excellent companion to them all the way to Meru Hills.

(P.S. Not at all a logical explanation was given at the end to James' peculiar behaviour, be it a medical or spiritual one. Also, I wonder how foreign film critics, e.g. Roger Egbert, could hail this film with a 4.5/5 ★ without appreciating the nuances that come with the language, culture and nostalgia of the heydays of Tamil silver screen.)

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Which is real and unreal?

Bliss (2021)

Director: Mike Cahill

This is one of the movies that one will either love or hate; get it, or it just passes by! I thought it was good. It helps the rest of the population not be affected by the complexities of a confused mind. 

Quite often than that, to the lucky ones unaffected by the hardship of modern living, it is sometimes how certain decisions should be made. And we cannot understand why the mentally ill repeatedly make wrong life decisions. They plunge continually into states of helplessness and hopelessness. 

Greg (Owen Wilson) is a staff in a call centre-like office. Even though his superior keeps calling him to the office, Greg is immersed in his own pencil drawing of his dream holiday villa. We gather that he is divorced. Even though everybody else is huffing and puffing, busy answering calls, Greg is in bliss, adding details to his drawing. 

When Greg finally meets his boss, he is shocked to find out he has been fired. Greg shoves his boss aside, and in a freak accident, the boss hits his head and dies. That is, everything became a blur. Greg finds his life going into a tailspin. He is confused. He does not know what is real, what is drug-induced, and what is hallucination. Who is that mysterious lady who keeps appearing and disappearing with yet another concoction to try? Why is the Universe keeps changing? At one moment, they are homeless and hunted like dogs in one instance and, in another, feted as great scientists.

To the uninitiated, this whole exercise is too confusing. If we scrutinise keenly, this entire imbroglio of severe mental illness could be akin to one floating around in a dream. Just like we become the leading player in our dreams and tend to do invincible outlandish feats, the sufferer is convinced that he writes the script of his role. There are no rules there; no holds barred. The trouble is that the audience and co-players do not share the same script. Hence, the clash.

Mental illness causes distortions of the mind. And the modalities to treat the sickness also bring in the same distortion to the mind, sometimes worse, bringing in disastrous outcomes. Sometimes, it makes us wonder. Is the illness worse, or is the treatment worse?

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All I can do is dream?

Exit (엑시트, Korean; 2019)
Director: Lee Sang-geun

Every time I see Koreans in action, be it in sports, movies or showcasing yet another new car, I get depressed. Koreans used to be our whipping boys in the Merdeka Tournament but look at them now, playing the same level of football with the big boys now. Kia started making automobiles in baby steps about the same time as us, but now, Korean cars are making Japanese cars sweat. Ours, on the other hand, is a national embarrassment.

With the innovation of P Ramlee and his friends at Jalan Ampas studio, they churned out hits after hits and even won cinematic awards at the Asian level. But now, all we can do is reminisce, brood about lost opportunities and imagine a country that we could have been.

Twenty years' master plan to learn, copy and innovate storytelling and moviemaking now sees Korean cinema and miniseries sweeping the world by storm. Korean culture is no longer alien to the people the world over. 

This movie is living proof of what the Koreans have achieved while we were napping, dreaming about Vision 2020 and Malay Supremacy. 'Exit' is a disaster film infused with traditional Asian family dynamics, light comedy, love interests and excellent computer graphic imaging. Just when I thought that disaster in movies would just mean run and run, here they have become imaginative. The storytellers have introduced rock climbing as a way to escape rising toxic fumes.

Yong-nam gets no respect. As far as his family is concerned, he is a loser. Even his nephew, an early teenager, does not think much of him. He is labelled a failure with no permanent job, not on his path to success any time soon, and no girlfriend to show around. He only has his rock-climbing skills to show.

The turning point comes during his mother's 70th birthday party. The girl he fancies works as a captain at the restaurant the party is held. A disillusioned scientist releases a toxic gas near the vicinity, and mayhem ensues. Everybody has to make it to the top of the buildings to be rescued by rescue helicopters. As the exit to the top is locked from the outside, our hero has to get his rock-climbing skills to good use. Of course, things get complicated, and our hero and the love of his life go through a whirlwind of adventures to win the day.

The way how emergency services are seen to be devised to combat disaster gave me another low. It reminded me how dismally our emergency disasters relief plans were executed during the recent Shah Alam and Hulu Langat floods. People were left to fend for themselves whilst leaders made cursory publicity visits. It was as if there were no contingency plans for emergencies. Surprisingly, when citizens wanted to vent their dissatisfaction over the case of the fox guarding the chicken coop, i.e. the Anti-Corruption Commission's alleged corruption, the whole civil service was at German precision to squash demonstrations with anti-riot gear and even court orders to make it illegal.

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Don't judge a book by its cover!

Green Book (2018)

The moment you see the protagonist of the film, Tony Vallelonga, an out-of-job New York Italian nightclub bouncer, chuck a pair of drinking glasses into the bin all because two black plumbers drank from it, you know what the story is all about and which direction the movie would progress. Sure enough, it turned out just like what you predicted. What keeps you glued to the screen, however, is the dialogue between Tony and his new employer, Doc Don Shirley, an accomplished musician, who turned of to be black. The sort of coming-of-age film turns out to be an eye-opener for both parties. For Tony, to accept people of colour for their character and for Doc,  a realisation that even the whites go through hardship like the blacks. It was set in the heady times of 1962 when racial tension was a heated topic. There are numerous leg tapping songs of the era to transform viewers to a time when life was not (it never had been) had its own problems. Being politically correct was not one of them. 

Tony's job was to drive Doc around the notorious Deep South for his private concerts. Doc was a classical pianist performing at various public performances and exclusive private gigs. He played with two accompanying musicians. This forms the basis of the movie. Just before they embark on the life-changing journey, somebody hands Tony the 'Green Book' to ease his travel. 

A little bit info on the Green Book. A few years ago, its existence came to my knowledge via a podcast, ‘99% Invisible’. 

Ever since the Negroes were liberated after the 1860s, they started going places. With the building of roads in the 20th century and the discrimination against black travellers in public transportations, the drive was there for Blacks to drive and own cars. This, they soon realised, had its own problems. They could not check-in into any motels at will. Not all diners were willing to serve them. Using washrooms were also an issue. Even, getting the proper service station was a problem. Blacks had to travel with prepared food and portable potty. They could face physical harm in specific locations called 'sundown town'.

The 'Green Book' was the brainchild of a Victor H Green, a WW1 veteran mailman, who wanted  "to give the Negro traveller information that will keep him from running into difficulties, embarrassments and to make his trip more enjoyable." Esso, a gas station of the Standard Oil, owned by the Rockefellers, decided to tap on this market. They franchised black Americans to run their stations and sold the ‘Green Book’.

A feel-good movie that drives home the message of how wrong is it to stereotype someone. A person of a particular race is expected to act in a specific way. That person, if not responding in a pre-set manner is considered a sell-out by his own race. We cannot a person's educational level, socio-economic strata or social standing merely by his outward appearance.

https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson 

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Land of Confusion!

Perched on a collection of rocks amidst the hostile winds and seas of the South China Sea, Macao may seem like a morose land with a grey skyline. Without fertile agricultural land, it had to depend on other source of economical dependence.
What other way to make money than to deal with money itself, like use money to beget money, like gambling. Hey wait, the Jesuit forefathers who set sail to spread the good word of the God, established this land of the foundation of Godliness, gambling being one of the cardinal sins.
The sin would be halved if all the remnants of the ruins are conserved and shown to the world to lure heritage status and to lure divine help needing tourists from whom we will suck their money. Not to forget our pre-Portuguese seafaring ancestors and Ah-Ma temple with the sea protecting goddess. The mysticism just makes Macao more mysterious. Even its name was erroneously derived when the visitors landed at the local Fujian tribes were seen pacifying their newborns (probably after seeing the hirsute large white apparitions alighting the vessels) saying 'Mah Hau' 'Mah Hau' which later became Macao to the tone deaf sea faring drunken sailors!
Realising the need to make money, Macaoans lure their guests with aesthetics. Filling the city with lots of eyes pleasing blooming flowers all year round with high maintenance culture and a typical communist era infused discipline and artistry, the city is clean, modern and spick and span. Workers are seen wiping single leaf on the landscaping area to make it appeasing to the eyes of the beholder. Everything seem to be working like clock work, making the need for technicians to hang around redundant, all works on auto pilot.
Tourists come here to live their dream, to relax. Others live in a dream,building sand castles in the air, gamblers come to City of Dreams Casino hoping to hit their first million bucks just to go awoken back to reality to live back in their usual nightmare...

I had a dream, then I grew up!

Pussycat Dolls (PCD) once sang... "When I grow up, I wanna be famous, I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies! When I grow up, I wanna see the world, drive nice cars, I wanna have groupies!"

At least his dream materialized two over

scores years later! 

Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream that one day over the rose hills of Georgia, sons of former slaves and former slave owners will be able to sit together in the table of Brotherhood and that his four children would not be judged by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character!
Dream merchants like Walt Disney gave people a form of escapism through his Mickey Mouse, Goofy and Donald Duck characters. Soichiro Honda managed to pull his war torn bankrupt and defeated nation to be at par with its victors till of recent. From a humble bicycle repair shop, his company is now venturing into artificial intelligence and robotics!
I too had a dream... which remains a dream.

Growing up in the post May 13 era, what was fed on the mass media to us was pure propaganda and we were all made to accept it as the gospel truth. We were made to understand that everything was hunky dory and the Government was serious in their zest to eradicate poverty and foster muhibbah (interracial understanding) via their 5 year plans, paving the way to make this country a developed nation by 2020. Soaked in that kind of hope day in and day out, I actually envisaged Malaysia to be clean, mild weathered,  modern, its courteous mild mannered smiling educated citizens in impeccable designer clothes talking to each other without malice and suspicion, with skyscrapers, shiny expensive vehicles streaming the seamless highway to everywhere. Then the bubble burst and there was a reality thud on my head!

Asimo

Fast forward to the 21st century and a decade later... What do we have now?

Poverty eradicated? I think it is far from it. Over the years, a new set of obnoxiously nouveau rich have emerged. They have no qualms about throwing their orange peels out of their chauffeur driven imported cars. The poor rich are still aplenty in the form of some who were displaced off their homes in the name of development. There are also many illegal immigrants who either ran away from their legal employers to become illegals or came via trawler boats under cover of darkness of the night to occupy strips of land (settlements) in the edge of city where even police fear to enter. Thanks to the lax or non-existent enforcements, these settlements prosper. They may appear poor but they have loads of cash stashed away to be sent home. Just wait for a mishap to happen, either in the form of disease outbreak (the children do not complete the mandatory vaccinations) or violence to happen before heads will roll. But, will they?

Malaysians, generally have improved by giant strides from an economic stance but there will always be a small recalcitrant group who would forever indulge in self pity and escapism. There are still people wondering around town with no identification papers. And they say, "We are Malaysians, yeah, just that my Malay is not so good. Isn't Mahathir the Prime Minister?" And I say, "Sure and I am Rajnikanth!"

Communication between Malaysians is still an issue as it was in the newly independent Malaya. Young adults, in spite of completing Malaysian education system still need interpreters when dealing with civil servants just like their grandparents 50 years previously.

Skyscrapers we have but its maintenance leaves much to be desired. We employ security guards who are too old, too sick, too incompetent to hold any other job or foreigners.

Wearing short pants, singlet and Japanese slippers could get you anywhere in the 60s and 70s. Fashion sense has not changed much since. Throngs of visitors to malls, clinics, offices are still dressed like this; just that the fashion police would say it is cool, trendy and metro-sexual. Anyway, their idols on Hollywood and Californians also dress like that and we are both in hot climates! Well, the 'holier-than-thou' Government offices have strict guidelines on dressing at their premises. They have set their air-conditioners way down low to be dressed down.

People are still suspicious of each other. In those days, it was whether you were a communist; now it is general stereotyping and that the other is going to cheat them blind. It is compounded by many Nigerian 'students' promising to convert white paper to green back (USD)! Just see how many Malaysians drug mule girls are counting bars caged in foreign gaols from Japan to Peru. Why is the word 'students' is in inverted commas? That is because these so called students do not act like students. They wear branded clothes smelling of expensive perfumes splashed all over the body liberally, sporting buff muscular physique, forever with female company and drinking alcoholic beverage like a fish drinking water. They pay their bills from a stash of RM50 bills. These 'scholarly students' do not speak very good English for a start. Can you imagine students of English courses describing their predicament as, "My stomach is paining me, Doctor!"? And what is this with their frequent treatments for sexually related ailments? Have you the local girls going hand and glove with them? 

I better stop before this becomes a nightmare.... 

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-432551007277565829#docid=296921882672273931