“Crazy Rich Asians” and the Problem of the ‘Real’ Singapore
I watched Crazy Rich Asians on the day it opened in Singapore, the tiny island nation where the story is mainly set. To be honest, I hadn’t expected anything. To say I was surprised to find myself with a lump in my throat would be an understatement. I don’t even like romantic comedies as a rule (apart from the marvellously witty work of Nora Ephron, that is) and you would normally have to put a revolver against my head to make me go and see a non-satirical film about the filthy rich.
Thinking about the movie afterwards, though, I realised it wasn’t the romantic story at all which had affected me. It was the background, the glimpses of Singapore which had touched me. After 28 years living here, it was moving to see the famous landmarks, the colourful shophouses of Chinatown with spiky durians being unloaded from trucks, the fast-disappearing food centres where locals “chope”, or reserve, tables by putting a tissue packet on them and then order dishes in the local version of English called ‘Singlish’, Chinese dialect and Malay. And what food it was! Singaporeans are obsessed with food and the film was full of it: skewers of satay to be dipped in peanut sauce, light, browned carrot cake, explosive chilli crab, thin, crispy roti prata with firey curry, plump dumplings, rich mooncakes and colorful Nonya kuehs. These are delicacies we can eat every…
