I was very happy to learn from the producer that Hishamuddin Rais' movie Dari Jemapoh ke Manchestee will finally get shown in our cinemas early next month. In our record-hungry nation, this will certainly merit an entry for the 'First Malaysian film to be released while the director is being held under the Internal Security Act (ISA).' And to think that all it wanted to be was the 'First Malaysian road movie.'

Hishamuddin conceived of the story while he was under temporary confinement (for 'rehabilitation' purposes) when he came back to Malaysia in 1994. He would pass the screenplay-in-progress to his warder for helpful comments.

So it's curiously apposite that he will be similarly detained when his debut effort finally gets a chance to meet the Malaysian public.

Shot in 1996 and completed more than a year later, barely in time for its world premiere at the 1998 Singapore International Film Festival, Dari Jemapoh ke Manchestee is a fun, frisky, occasionally awkward, but undeniably charming film about the possibilities of freedom.

The on-screen dedication reads " Kepada anak muda - yang telah - yang sedang - yang akan " and it is this youthful exuberance that informs the whole quirky journey.

] Homoerotic sub-text

Two youths, Yadi and Mafiz, are bored out of their minds in their tiny village of Jemapoh, Negeri Sembilan, where there are more cows than people. Yadi dreams of meeting his idol George Best and watching Manchester United play - in Manchester, of course.

Mafiz wants to meet his long-lost father, currently believed to be in Liverpool. Opportunity arises in the form of a red Volvo which Yadi steals. He says he only means to 'borrow' it: How long could it take to drive to Manchester anyway?

The two boys are now on the road, hoping that one day the Manchester sign will pop up. Their friendship is put to the test when they are joined by a Singaporean rocker Lini and a girl named Mila, both on the run from trouble.

The two are worldlier than the Jemapoh boys as they seem to know things about passports and world maps, which would be helpful in getting them to Europe. But Yadi is also jealous of the attention that his old friend now pays to the newcomers.

The film craftily acknowledges the homoerotic sub-text of the buddy-movie genre. Yadi snaps petulantly at Mafiz, "Ever since she (Mila) came along, you don't even listen to me anymore." Sexual freedom, seen here as a metaphor or synecdoche for other types of freedom, is left open as a possibility.

Policeman's advice

A few pundits would no doubt have expected a more political film from Hishamuddin. But the political points are there albeit in a more subtle fashion than in his polemical writing. A scene in a punk-rock nightclub is disrupted by gun-toting, batik-wearing men who flaunt their official connections.

And the film's most bizarre character is a lecherous pervert who is the keeper of a dam - a most striking metaphor for corruption among those entrusted to keep us in order.

Hishamuddin came from a rather theoretical background in film, but is more interesting than the similarly over-educated Anuar Nor Arai or Mansor Puteh because he has a sense of humour. And it is the humour that malaysiakini readers will instantly recognise from his Dotmai column: pithy, earthy, digressive.

There is nothing bombastic in Dari Jemapoh ke Manchestee although any reasonably perceptive hedgehog will be able to discern at least one extra layer of meaning. When I did the subtitles three years ago, the one line I remember having trouble with was the policeman's advice to the kids just before the final sequence.

The Malay was ambiguous. I thought he meant "Once you leave the village, remember who you are." But it was actually closer to "Once you leave the village, remember that you're no longer the same person."

The cop is telling the kids to take risks. It would be difficult to find the sentiment in any other mainstream Malay story, which would likelier endorse 'cultural tempurung ism.'

But it is consistent with Hishamuddin's inherent adaptability - as long as accommodation to different surroundings comes with a right to sceptical enquiry and intellectual provocation. Recognising that these rights are never given easily is the first step to being comfortable with risks.

Malaysian English subtitles

I'm not thrilled by the subtitles - someone else had to type them onto the print so hastily just hours before the Singapore premiere that they now seem awash with mistakes and illiteracies.

But since there's no money to re-do them, I shall have to live with the fact that people will think I was responsible for lines like, 'She always get on my nerve.'

You might complain that the youth slang ('cool, brother, cool') is outdated, or that some scenes go on too long. But by the time you reach its surprisingly magical denouement and all the plot strands come together, you will be too busy grinning to quibble.

The Censorship Board has also been atypically lenient in asking for only two cuts of dialogue; perhaps it too has been joyously affected by the film's tribute to risk-taking.

The four leads are played by Indra Syahril, Zulkarnain Ibrahim, Azizul Akma and Fariza Azlina. Who? Hishamuddin would laughingly defend his casting decisions: "They are all well-known! They each have at least 10 family members who know them!"

Picking fresh talents rather than cookie-cutter pop icons was an act of liberation, a refusal to conform to the system. Even here, the possibilities of freedom are there - if only we are willing to take them.