Random Drivel from your Average Tosser

...with your host, Binty McShae - whether you like it or not!

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Cin-enema

Question: When a cultural form is imported (on both sides willingly) into another culture should the 'adopting' culture adapt itself to the etiquette of said form or should the form and its producers / promoters expect and accept behaviour which they might ordinarily find offensive or distracting?

Anyone who has read back far enough on this blog knows my feelings regarding cinema-heathens. Well, a heated discussion with Indian friends the other night led me to realise that there are cultural issues at play here... They understood the etiquette of not talking on the'phone and turning off the ringtone but the fact that I could get annoyed at people texting in a cinema caused them much mirth.

The way I look at it is simple - cinema is a visual medium. If someone flashed torches or turned on the lights it would be very distracting and piss most people off. When someone uses their 'phone to sms, or even just to look at the time, the light caused by their tiny screen is actually very noticeable in a darkened cinema. To me it would be like trying to listen to a string quartet with some arseholes watch alarm going of intermittently.

But then I forget that - aside from certain screenings of films like Rocky Horror or The Sound of Music - western audiences are very much brought up to silently immerse themselves in films whereas many other cultures, especially in the Bollywood sphere of influence, see films as a release, an arena to "let go" of themselves in. Whereas the social interaction of a film in the west tends to be in dissecting the film in the pub after the credits, in the east the social interaction seems to actually be the film itself.

And so I am brought back to my original question... as someone who can happily watch - nay, embrace - a piece of performance art (be it celluloid or whatever) in the environment and atmosphere it belongs, do I then have a right to expect to be able to watch films from my own cultural background in the manner that I would be able to were I back home? Likewise, should those enjoying their own eastern cultures in the west be made to conform to viewing them in a manner which follows western etiquette?


There is something akin to this in sport... very recently Sinless City hosted a Pro Golf tournament and today the papers were full of the western players who had complained that spectators were using flash-photography as they were taking their swings and that children too young to exercise noise discipline at crucial times had been allowed in. Was that a case of the stuffy colonial sportsmen being *ahem* bad sports? Or should the local populus, in their eagerness to embrace the international competition, have exercised more care in learning the etiquette of being a golf spectator? One local who attended commented that the players shouldn't have come if they didn't want to be photographed, but I think he misses the point here (there were countless photo opportunities that did not have the potential to upset the outcome of the game) and the attitude does smack of cutting off ones own nose to spite the face - what incentive is there for these sportsmen to come back and provide further entertainment or photo opportunities if that's how you feel?

But is this a cultural thing or is it just a selfishness? "I want it, so I will take it, etiquette be damned". That is an aspect of life in Sinless City I see every day, on public transport, in queues at foodstalls, on the street hailing cabs, on the escalators... there are a lot of people here who seem to exist in the 'bubble-of-one' (please note that I am not accusing my Indian friends of this - far from it!). The truth is that in this country there is an underlying sense of individual self-importance and self-righteousness and one way in which this could be seen to manifest itself is in the way people act in the cinema.

The worst examples of this behaviour, the most selfish that I have seen on a mass scale, were at the Night Safari. This is a one-of-a-kind zoo experience where you get to see nocturnal and semi-nocturnal animals in the near-wild, pretty much under natural moon-light with very little artificial lighting used. Everywhere you go there are signs pleading with people not to use flash photography as it can blind (or in extreme cases even kill) the animals concerned. Yet on my three visits to the Night Safari I saw flash after flash as the modern 'big-game hunters' regarded their trophy-photographs of higher value than animal welfare.

Okay, it seems like I am stretching my point a little - cinema irritation to maiming animals in two easy steps - and the Night Safari experience cannot really be equated with my original question. But, despite cultural differences undoubtedly playing a part in so many upsets and misunderstandings in this diverse country, I firmly believe that the root of all these problems is a lack of respect. Let me watch these films how I am meant to watch them. And I will happily watch films from other cultures the way that they are supposed to be watched as well. Let the sportsmen get on with what they are supposed to do without getting unnecessarily parochial about it (I am just imagining a Formula 1 car at next years Sinless City Grand Prix being confronted by a local cyclist going against the traffic flow...). And for fucks sake - let those animals keep their corneas.

Cheers m'dears!

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Thursday, May 24, 2007

Lost in Translation #03

Acronym-onious

In Sinless City they just love acronyms. You leave your HDB, drive down the PIE (or take the MRT), get cash from the ATM at the DBS or the POSB, use your HP to send an SMS and tell your friends to meet you in the CBD for a G'n'T before heading off to MOS to pick up an SPG*. It's ridiculously baffling, but I think I'm getting to grips with it. At least, I did until today...

Having spoken to my HOD, who wanted to report to the VP about my progress on the MT side of the IP here at [acronym removed so I don't get fired] I went for a coffee at the SAC and ended up chatting with some RBC's**. Mid-tedium one of my colleagues suddenly jumped up and announced that she had to rush because the P was expecting her. "That's a rather unusual way of excusing yourself to go to the bathroom" I said, gathering the finest set of blank stares ever assembled as a result. It took amoment to register but it eventually dawned that she was referring to the Principal... I mean, if the Vice Principal is the VP it stands to reason, right?

But really... how fucking lazy do you want to get?

Incidentally, you may have noticed the location of my morning coffee, the Student Activity Centre (fancy name for the school canteen). They are having a major drive at the moment to get the kids to clear up after themselves, something I fully support but doubt will catch on as adults in this country are just as bad in food courts. What caught my attention, however, was the way in which they decided to get this across to the students... a nice big sign bearing the legend "KEEP YOUR SAC CLEAN".

...and no-one had a clue why I was stifling that snigger!

Cheers m'dears!

*That's: "Housing Development Board" (state built flats); "Pan-Island Expressway"; "Mass Rapid Transportation"; "Automated Teller Machine"; DBS I'm not sure of... but it's a bank!; "Post Office Services Bank"; "Hand Phone"; again, not sure of the actual words but it's a text message...; "Central Business District"; "Gin 'n' Tonic"; "Ministry of Sound"; "Sarong Party Girl" (essentially a loose young woman)

**This lot are: "Head of Department"; "Vice Principal"; "Music Technology"; "Integrated Programme"; "Student Activity Centre"; "Ridiculously Boring Colleagues"

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Thursday, May 10, 2007

Lost in Translation #02

No Common Censor

Censorship in Sinless City takes a bit of getting used to. This is a country where cigarette packets bear pictorial health warnings with such graphic images as rotted feet and a dead foetus yet the London Financial Times has to place a little black square over the naughty bits on a photograph... of a statue. This is also a country where mindless violence is the order of the day on TV but they get scissor happy when BBC sitcom 'My Family' shows a husband cuddling his wife on a bed. Of course, I would opine that 'My Family' would benefit from several other cuts, but that's by the by.

Language, though - that's a whole other thing. Despite my initial shock at the word 'shit' being bandied around all over the place in a stage play for primary school kids I soon accepted that this word was not considered offensive here. It is, instead, purely descriptive, and the play was talking about bird faeces. On the other hand I will never, ever understand why the TV company decided it needs to bleep the word penis, a legitimate name of a body part... or (and I shit you not here) why they bleeped the first half of the accessory item "bum-bag" (that's a 'fanny-pack' in the States).

But these all register only mild surprise next to what I witnessed last night. Watching 'The Sopranos' on local TV is a very musical experience, with every other word bleeped. But you get used to it... it goes something like -

"Paulie, don't be a ****ing mother****er and pass me the ****ing gun before I **** **** you with my **** and pull your **** off. You ****!"

So you can imagine my disbelief when Tony uttered the phrase "She's a cunt"... completely uncensored.

Now, leaving aside the mirth that State-siders using that word always induces in me (I'm sorry, but there is something about US accents that just causes that word to lose some punch!), I was completely floored! Did I hear that correctly? Gosh-darn it, I think I did!

After an evening spent wondering how THAT word could have slipped past the censors and creating conspiracy theories in my head about some rebellious TV censor starting a cultural revolution I came in to work today and mentioned it to a colleague. "Oh, yeah" she said, with an air of disinterest. "That never gets censored. Pretty much no-one understands what that word means".

Cue me calling everyone a cunt all day...

Cheers m'cunts!

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Monday, February 05, 2007

Lost in Translation #01

Slice of Life

So, having eaten Asian food every meal so far this year (not actually that uncommon for me, as I live very close to a very good and ridiculously cheap place that does food from all over South-East Asia) I decided the other night to do something a little more... western. I was, after all, sitting in a bar that pretty much only served bog-standard western bar-fare. But having hummed and hawed at the weighty menu, consisting of the likes of burgers and macaroni cheese, I eventually decided that a nice light plate of cold cuts and salad would be just the ticket.

I'm sure you are all aware that cold cuts do exactly what they say on the tin. They are cuts of meat that are served cold. This, for me, sounded like a refreshing change - but then again, I had forgotten that this is Asia and things are often... well, different.

Five minutes after my dining partner's piping hot, freshly cooked meal had arrived I was beginning to wonder what the fuck was taking so long... were they slaughtering the animals, cooking them and then waiting for them to cool down? Being the kind of man I am - very reasonable up to a point, usually a point accompanied by intense hunger, at which time I become a scowling, growling pain in the arse - I was just about to make a rather sarcastic comment to the waitress when, all of a sudden, a plate appears before me. A plate that looked very like a plate of cold cuts on salad. Except that it was steaming.

Yep. That's right. They had heated up my cold cuts. Worse still, the ham was obviously pre-packaged reconstituted stuff which had probably never been hot in the first place. But the clincher for me, the worst of it all... they had heated it all up together, salad included! Limp warm lettuce leaves... delicious, I don't think!

It dawned on me later that I don't think I have ever seen a local meal in this country which hasn't been piping hot. I'll probably never understand why, in a country so damn warm, folk seem to have an aversion to eating cold dishes.

Cheers m'dears!

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