Amir Muhammad’s Malaysian Gods (MG) offers an amalgam of two strands of Malaysian life. The first being a history of the genesis of Malaysian reformasi relayed in English text. The second is interviews in Tamil or Tamil creole with a variety of Tamil speakers. Like an amalgam these two strands have different properties but are nonetheless juxtaposed in the hopes of exerting a useful effect on each other. Street politics is matched with life from the streets. 

MGs choice of these two strands is informed by its execution in a post-March 8, post-Hindraf moment. The March 8, 2008 elections are the highest achievement thus far of the reformasi movement launched in 1998 and centred around the personality of Anwar Ibrahim. Hindraf (Hindu Rights Action Force) is a now banned movement devoted to reversing the marginalisation of Malaysian Indian Hindus and is credited with swinging away ethnic Indian support away from the Barisan Nasional to what is now Pakatan Rakyat. 

From the standpoint of the Barisan Nasional both these movements are viewed as adversaries. Given MGs favourable disposition towards them, it is probably on account of this that the movie was not given permission to be screened commercially in Malaysia. Thus, this writer found himself at a director’s screening to students at Aswara in order to catch the movie. My comments here are based on a single viewing. 

Although the film opens with establishing text stating that out of the three “races” of Malaysia Indians are the smallest group, the film breaks from race as a category by selecting Tamil speakers of various ethnicities. This opens the way for some stereotype smashing as we encounter a Malaysian Chinese fluent in Tamil as a consequence of her stepmother. The film itself opens to a quavering rendition of Search’s “Isabella” on an er hu by a Malaysian Indian. It’s all very truly Asia. 

The strategic privileging of Tamil speakers may reflect a liberal generosity found in urban West Malaysia. Yet, it is all too easy for West Malaysians to present the ‘Malaysian story’ as one of the “three races” dominant in Peninsular cities: Malays, Chinese, and Indians (in order of descending population and power).  

The bedside stories on “race” with their attendant stereotypical qualities and behaviour told to us by our political masters deserve to be unsettled. But this is not MGs main goal, and I remain unsure what is. 

The film is structured into chapters of reformasi history followed by Tamil interviews. The chapter titles are lifted from Face Off: A Malaysian Reformasi Diary (1998-99) by Sabri Zain, noted for his internet postings during that period. As far as I could tell there seemed to be little connection between the interview subjects and the chapter titles, which left me feeling the film’s two strands weren’t holding together. I struggled valiantly to retain the titles in my mind in order to fish for subtext in the interviews but failed. Perhaps this happened because I got caught up in the genuinely interesting interviews. 

The reformasi details offered are too well known to be of great interest to most Malaysian viewers. More novelty resides in the interviews. For the non-Malaysian viewer, or those absent or asleep during 1998-1999, MGs reformasi powerpoint briefing may be useful. However, the subtleties of privileging Tamil speakers in Malaysia may be lost on them. It is this Janus-faced quality that makes me wonder if it would have been better to make one of two films rather than this amalgam. 

Most of the interviewees are asked if they took part in Hindraf demonstrations, though none admit to it. Amir clearly likes the subversive frissance of political demonstrations, though probably not UMNO Youth ones. By placing studiously neutral Tamil speakers alongside a reformasi narrative is MG trying to say that being Tamil itself is subversive? Would the interviewees feel comfortable being embedded within a reformasi story, let alone the suggestion of affinity with Hindraf? 

Amir likes reformasi, likes Sabri’s book, likes the idea of all Tamil interviews. MG is an idiosyncratic work, the themes grouped within its 70 minutes were those that made a certain sense to its creator, or at least held a certain affinity. But I’m not sure what viewers can take away from it. MG doesn’t deliver anything new on interpreting reformasi or Hindraf. To merely tell of their existence is not enough.  

Its main appeal may lie in the pleasure of voyeurism standard to the moving image, to hear and see how unfamiliar others think and feel (particularly for the non-Tamil speaking viewer). If this is so, a more powerful statement might have been made if the slice of reformasi history were delivered in Tamil. English and Malay are the authoritative voices in Malaysian history, narrating it in a minority language might introduce some productive dissonance. But it would need still more to raise it above the level of a gimmick.  

There isn’t any substantive or critical engagement with Hindraf, which contains many claims and dynamics that don’t sit comfortably with leftists or liberals who otherwise support greater empowerment for Malaysian Indians, as they do for any other oppressed minority. Hindraf’s exclusive focus on Malaysian Hindus is problematic. Employing a puckish tone, Amir does little more than suggest a seductive dangerousness around it, one mostly directed towards the hegemonic power.  

The primal scream that was the early Hindraf generated much resonance within and outside the Malaysian Indian community, but it will take more subtlety and moderation to gain and sustain allies in the longer run. Malaysian Hindus are not alone in their subjugation.  

Political entertainment has been a staple of Amir Muhammad’s work, but his approach has been more of the wry essay rather than, say, controversial reinterpretation, penetrating analysis or showcasing subterranean histories. Politicised artists may have something to contribute by offering avenues for alienated Malaysians to develop more empathy with each other through the medium of the arts. Malaysian Gods is not a definitive or model statement in this regard, but I recognise it as an earnest attempt. 

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Malaysian Gods will be screened at the Selangor Chinese Assembly Hall (Jalan Maharajalela, KL) next Thursday, 7 May 2009 at 8.00 PM, followed by a panel discussion ‘Reformasi, Tsunami & Beyond’ with Elizabeth Wong (PKR), Arul (PSM) and (they are hoping) an UMNO Youth representative who has yet to confirm. The session will be chaired by Amir Muhammad.

The panel will put on their futuristic glasses. We all know what happened in 1998 and 2008, but what will the country be like in 2018? 

Admission is FREE.

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Image sourced from Da Huang Pictures.

YIN SHAO LOONG empathises with the er hu player, as he used to be the sole non-Indian to turn up for sitar classes. He also thinks Edward James Olmos is right to say that “there is only one race, the human race.”