opinion

It has been quite some time since I last went to the movies. "Rahman!" my former boss Zulkifli Sulong, fresh from losing yet another defamation lawsuit, shouted into the phone. "Go to the cinema ... Jemapoh ... They say it's always full ... why don't you write a review?"

Instructions from a former boss notwithstanding, I had been rather excited even days earlier after reading reviews on the Internet about a film directed by none other than a political detainee.

I thought nothing could be more exciting than watching Malaysia's first 'unconventional' film, directed by a 'trendy rebel', with a cast of fresh faces, in Bahasa Melayu. Most encouraging of all, the film is not directed by one of those local third-rate film directors (you know who you are) nor has it any of the artistes who all too often are seen masquerading in their selebriti pretensions at the food stalls.

In fact - and I say this without any regret - I am one Malaysian who is patriotic enough not to waste money on a locally-produced film at the cinema - so Dari Jemapoh Ke Manchestee was to be my first ever experience watching a Malay movie at the cinemas.

Even before watching it, I thought: Here at last a quality local production by an educated, 'reading-type' director, a break from the typical nerve-racking blockbuster Malay movies - you know, the Sembilu-I, II, III, IV, V-type that unthinking fans of Yusuf Haslam would flock to watch despite stale acting and superficial storylines.

On the contrary, we all know Hishamuddin Rais, read his articles and found most of them to be well-thought out, at least showing that the writer is a literate person. His play Tok Ampoo received positive feedback, in fact, it was a hit despite the shoe- string budget.

Admittedly, I have been somewhat captivated by his adventurous life as a dissident who sought years of refuge in Europe before finally coming back home to be arrested, and now to have his film shown while he is incarcerated for his views. Now what can be more glamourous than that?

Stuck in time capsule

So naturally, I got very excited when I read that Hisham has come out with a movie of his own. So excited that I began SMS-ing friends to go and watch the movie, spreading the rumour that 'you better watch it before they ban it!'

Eager not to be disappointed myself, I jogged half-a- kilometre from the car park to the cinema at Mid-Valley Megamall, and got myself a seat. The hall was quite packed as was rumoured. I presume that unlike other Malay films, I saw many non-Malay faces. What is even more interesting, they did not look like the average movie-goer type.

Somehow, one could sense a hollowness of reformasi in the hall. Perhaps Hishamuddin and the ISA were at the back of their minds and had motivated them to come and watch this movie (I was to find out later how true my guess was).

And so the movie of the decade finally began. The starting clip has one of my favourite songs as its background sound. But alas, I was to find out later that my first experience of watching a Malay film at the cinema was to be my final one for a long time to come; not unless some wise guy again comes out with deceiving reviews! Cheated is what I would describe myself that day.

To be frank, I have almost forgotten what the movie was all about. The storyline has been subdued by the deafening dullness of the movie, murky acting that will put even our good old TV Pendidikan programmes to shame and not to mention a script which has been stuck in a time capsule as old as Hishamuddin's jacket.

No woman, no movie

The plot goes something like this (at least as far as I remained on my seat to follow it): two youths who have had enough of boredom in Jemapoh, a village in Negri Sembilan, steal a red Volvo and embark on a dream journey to Manches- tay (the way Malays in Jemapoh pronounce it, I presume).

Don't ask how they would go there. We were to be subtly told later, that youths in Jemapoh are so stupid that they do not even know that one needs a passport to go to Manchester. Along this ridiculous journey, they meet a rocker who had earlier performed at an underground gig concert in the city (or is he a punk?) and who joins them after being attacked by some batik-clad thugs (how ridiculous!).

They are later joined by a girl (yes, no woman no movie) who was rescued from a pimp by one of the kampung boys. It boggles the mind: two very kampung -ish boys from Jemapoh not feeling out of place at a beer-strewn punk hideaway or dancing away in a pub which serves alcohol? Don't ask - that's rule No 1 when you waste money watching a local movie.

It is amazing that I managed to follow the plot despite the awful acting. I spent a good one hour into the film, all the time giving it the benefit of doubt, reminding myself, "Look, this is no Sembilu , it's Hishamuddin Rais, so don't be ashamed of watching it".

When soon I found out that the whole story was beginning to lead the audience nowhere, I walked out of the cinema, made sure that no cinema staff was watching, and quickly slipped into the neighbouring cinema to watch Jacky Chan's Rush Hour II . What a break!

Lowly product

Perhaps they weren't even planning to go to the UK. Perhaps there's a catch at the end of the movie. Some may say: Never mind about the acting, but if you are a patron of the arts, you will appreciate such an illogical plot. To such persons, I can only challenge them to prove to me that Dari Jemapoh Ke Manchestee is a fine work of art.

I met one of Hisham's friends later and gave him a piece of my mind about the movie. He nodded his head, and said it could be due to the film being overrated, so naturally the disappointment would spiral accordingly. True, I was not expecting any special effects or expensive stunts or Braveheart material.

I could even have tolerated the plot even if it was plagiarised from Bollywood or Hongkong. The greatest disappointment, however, has to do with the overall directorship, or the absence of it, of the movie.

Emotions are missing from the cast that I sometimes wonder what our trendy rebel has been doing all along in the 'advanced' West for him to come back and fool us with such a lowly product. Perhaps Hishamuddin should have lived his life of exile in post-Islamic revolution Iran.

The number of quality Iranian movies since its emancipation, not least the awards they have been receiving at international film festivals, is an indication of how advanced Iranian producers are. And I do not think they need RM500,000 - the sum Hishamuddin spent on this rubbish.

This 'review', if I could call that, is done at the risk of being branded a cynic. I admit being a bit personal when it comes to attacking the film's director - but how could I not be when it is his personality which motivated me, and I am sure a lot of others, to go?

All said, I do not regret at all paying for it. At least I did not contribute to our silly mainstream local film industry whose coffin has been resting together with P Ramlee's. My advice: unless you want to be charitable to a man who has been denied his rights and jailed for his views, then don't spend your money on this movie. I suggest Rush Hour II .

ABDUL RAHMAN KOYA is the former English editor of the PAS organ, Harakah .