The Moving picture world (May 1922)

May 13, 1922 MOVING PICTURE WORLD 159 Even Malaya Has Its Eagle-Eyed Censor to Ban What Might Flutter Dovecotes Go where one will, north, south, east and west, one can be certain of seeing "the pictures." It therefore is not surprising that in the Malay Peninsula the cinema has a strong hold upon the affections of the natives. In Singapore, and in each of the other large towns, there are from two to three " picture palaces," while in the small villages films are shown. Indeed, no matter how insignificant the hamlet, it is almost certain to run to an occasional performance, even if it is only a makeshift affair. A rat-ridden barn may be used as a theatre, but it serves the purpose. For the Malay is a practical fellow, he does not worry about comfort when it is a question of choosing between a show and a hard seat in a shed. He sets his heart on an evening's amusement, and he means to have it. So determined. The Malay, by the way, never seems to have any money, or, at all events, any change. When, however, he reaches the ticket-office the wherewithal invariably is forthcoming. "Chock-Lites" or — In the important towns the buildings used for "movie" purposes are of concrete, the frontage being lavishly decorated with concrete figures. A feature of the establishment is a refreshment garden, in which the heated audience disports itself during the waits. The village " picture palace " is a less pretentious concern, the house being a wooden structure, with a few flags stuck about it, and there is no refreshment garden. But ice-creams, sweets, lemonade and cigarettes are sold by little Chinese boys, who call out the name of their wares in strangely pronounced English. The Peninsula, it should be noted, teems with Chinese. So while the " Chink " parents enjoy the performance at their ease, young Ah-Foo and diminutive, AhLi work hard at earning a living. Nor, at the end of the evening, is there much remaining unsold. The heat, you see, makes every one thirsty, and cigarettes are " grateful and comforting." Punkahs, of course, are obsolete, their place having been taken by electric fans. The Malays are a go-ahead race. Swank and Other Things The Europeans, including the haughty officials, the business men and those engaged in agricultural pursuits and trading, put in an appearance. The audience, however, chiefly consists of the Malay motorcar drivers, the already mentioned Chinese, and, on a Sunday night, the Portuguese element. The last-named occupy the middle-priced seats, the young women wearing evening dress of gaudy hue, which is set oflF with much imitation jewelry. Each is accompanied by a swain, whose heavily oiled hair (and still more By GEORGE CECIL heavily scented person) makes a deep impression on the lady of his choice. Although the cavaliers are poorly paid shop assistants, they cut a truly dashing figure in striped suits and ties of vivid tint, in which all the colors of the rainbow mingle. Brilliantly yellow shoes also have a great attraction for them. Sometimes a couple of Portuguese "bloods," having set out to impress the same lady, loudly dispute the right to her favor. For a moment they are the centre of all eyes. Only for a moment, though. The audience has paid to see " the pictures," and they prefer to have their money's worth. Wise people. The Play's The Thing The story of each film is followed most intelligently by the Asiatics, the funny man being loudly applauded and the villain most cruelly hissed. The explanation of the coming scene is thrown on the screen, the children reading it out loud — and without any self-consciousness. Occasionally some official event is reproduced, such as the arrival of the governor, a very important person in the eyes of his subordinates. Other local happenings occasionally are screened. These make but a trifling appeal to the colored critics, who much prefer " The Mysteries of Myra " and other mysteries. A play with a "punch," in short, is what they want, with plenty of villainy and low comedy thrown in. To cater for Malayan tastes about £70,000 of cinematographic materials found their way to the Peninsula last year, the greater part of which was dispatched from England. American imports came next, closely followed by Siam, who, having exploited her films, handed them over to the F. M. S., as the Federated Malay States are known. France exported about £1,600 worth, while Japan did considerably better. Japan as film exporter, is a power to be reckoned with. The Japanese match may be a cheap abomination, but the moderately priced Japanese " picture " is a very different thing. Music Hath Charms In the more important theatres the orchestra consists of English instruments played by Filipinos, "no natives need apply" being a stringent rule. Certainly, the Malayan equivalent for the fiddle leaves something to be desired, and the "tum-tum" (described by untravelled scribes as the "tom-tom") is both monotonous and maddening. Still they please the Malay, whose musical standpoint is a thing apart. Consequently, upon a traveling operator arriving in a village, his first care is to hire three or four performers, who thrum, scrape, and bang — much to the joy of the audience. It must, however, be admitted that the tune seldom varies, and that " The Mysteries of New York" and " My Four Years in Germany" gain nothing from being accompanied by the same inappropriate strains. At the superior establishments the proceedings are often enlivened by a musichall turn, which is furnished by wandering European performers. When a show is given in aid of charity, the program invariably is embellished in this manner. An Eagle-Eyed Censor The morals of the inhabitants are most carefully safe-guarded by a censor of films, who is "stationed" at Singapore. As straightlaced as a Y. M. C. A. layreader, his eagle eye and nimble mind are quick to seize upon any trifle which he considers likely to flutter a Malayan dovecote. When, in 1908, the first "wayong glap" (literally "dark house") was opened, government interference was undreamed of. A little later, the "imco' guid" being prompted, no doubt, by Satan, who has ever found mischief for idle hands to do, busied themselves. Result, a full-blown censor. The names allotted to the various "picture palaces" are distinctly high sounding. What, for example, could be more distinguished than "The Marlborough"? "Harmonia Hall" also has an agreeable and euphonious sound, while "The Gaiety," "The Palladium," "The Alhambra" and "The Empire" remind the exiled white man of pleasant nights in London. He has another reminder, for a certain number of well-known London films are projected on the screen, the Chinese. Filipino, and Japanese proprietors being ready to study his tastes. The Malays, it may be added, do not enter into competition with above mentioned commercial magnates. They prefer to play the passive spectator. Nor do the Indian capitalists, of whom there are a number in the Straits, invest money in this direction. What it Costs The lowest priced seat costs the equivalent of 7d., and a 4s. 8d. chair in a box is as high as one can go, except in the palatial establishments of Singapore, where 7s. is charged. The boxes are often used by Malay ladies of the upper class, such as the wives of chieftains and other "notables." Coyly veiling themselves, they bashfully avert their slanting eyes when stared at by admiring strangers. Modest creatures, they do not care to face the impious gaze of a Malay gentleman who has not been formally presented to them. Meanwhile, if a seat at the Singapore "picture palace" costs 7s., it at least affords value for money, since the entertainment commences at half-past seven and lasts till eleven.