My parents were both widowed before they married each other so I had lots of step-brothers and step-sisters.

I moved out of home when I was only eight to live with my brother in Nakhon Si Thammarat. Then I moved to Bangkok when my father died three years later.

I lived at Wat Bowonniwet where one of my brothers was a monk. I had the opportunity to attend a vocational school where I studied to become a building contractor.

My life was quite trashy during my years in vocational school. I got drunk and fought with other school’s students all the time. I needed to stop and find things in my life to help me regain my focus.

I became a volunteer teacher in a mountainous region near Chiangmai. It was really remote. All the teachers had to sleep in a cave because there was no house to stay in. We later built a little house where we could live.

I originally planned to stay around 5-6 months but ended up being there for three years. I was so happy, even though I didn’t get paid.

Being a volunteer taught me so much. It helped change me to become more calm and aware, to better understand myself and others. It taught me that if you want to sacrifice your time, you can’t think that you’re sacrificing anything.

I came back to Bangkok to continue my education. I decided to study political science at Ramkhamhaeng University because I had been bound up in politics since I was I kid. I always went to listen to political activists speaking in public in Bangkok and the South. Many were famous like M.R. Kukrit Pramoj, Samak Sundaravej, Uthai Pimjaichon or Chuan Leekpai.

I became well known after the Black May in 1992. I was the last speaker on the stage before Major General Chamlong Srimuang was arrested and the king had to intervene to stop the violence.

I didn’t think about being a politician. I was happy to keep helping my politician friends plan their campaigns instead.

I changed my mind because I realized it was easier to get things to happen as a politician instead of passing it on to someone else and expecting them to make it happen. I joined Palangtham before becoming part of Thaksin Shinawatra’s Thai Rak Thai.

The key to being a good speaker is to say what you truly believe. People have come so far, they now know as much as the politicians.

I have to use three phones because I know my main number is bugged. So I have two other numbers to secretly talk with my colleagues and supporters.

My life hasn’t been normal for so long. I can’t walk in public like I used to. It’s about safety, not just for me but also my friends and family as well.

If they want to kill me, just kill me. Don’t drag others into this.

I try to protect my family, my wife and three daughters. I try and ensure they stay away from what I am doing with the redshirts as much as possible. I don’t want to make trouble for their lives, so I try to keep them out of the public eye.

Since Seh Daeng was shot dead, I knew it could also happen to me any day. My feeling is beyond fear. You have no time to think about fear when you are shot. You have no feeling when you are dead.

I wasn’t paid by Thaksin. Death and freedom can’t be traded with money. Money is nothing if you’re dead or in a cage. I can find money on my own.

I told Thaksin, “Don’t start the movement with money.” If they come with money, they will run away when the first bullets start to fly. There wouldn’t have been 91 deaths during the 2010 protest if the protesters had been paid to be there.

I never considered toppling the royal institution. I used to live in Wat Bowon where the king and royal members often visited. I feel good about and respect the royal family.

We were framed with this allegation by those who want to destroy us. I even named my oldest daughter, 11, Porpiang [Sufficiency, after the King’s teachings]. How could I harbor the idea of trying to bring down the royal family?

My biggest achievement and happiest moment would be when I was a teacher. Teaching is all about giving.

If I can’t be a MP any more, I will drive the Red Shirt movement as I always have.

You don’t need to act as an enemy to those who have a different political standpoint. We can talk like friends who just have a different way of thinking.

BK: How did the Apple Girls Band get started?
Saitip “Walnut” Wiwatnapattapee: A friend wanted to make some music for the Fat Music Festival. We recorded his song in three versions: full band, acoustic, and eight-bit sound. For the video, we decided to use applications on the iPhone. But my friends who are all male thought they didn’t fit with the “Apple style” so I recruited my friends, Fern, Vas, Tookta, and Pac, from Chulalongkorn University’s CU Band. Wan-Yen and Mint later joined the band while I was studying in Canada.

BK: What was it like the first time you played together?
Pimprapa “Fern” Chalermwongwiwat: It was quite intense, we only had two hours to practice and we’d never played the song before—and we had to play it on Apple gadgets!
Walnut: The power in the studio went out, so we were only able to record half of what was intended, it was a hectic day. After editing, the video was posted on YouTube and the feedback was unbelievable: we hit 50,000 views in a couple days. [Nearly 250,000 now.]

BK: What’s the hardest thing about these electronic instruments?
Fern: It’s frustrating because everything is so small. It’s hard to play certain chords or keys because of the limited space. However, it’s also more fun since there are so many different sounds.
Walnut: It’s like playing with a toy; you just press and have fun with the different sounds.

BK: Any incidents during the shows?
Fern: Yes, sometimes the program will just freeze or malfunction and certain sounds will play by themselves. You can’t always rely on electronic gadgets.
Walnut: Mistakes can happen at any time, what’s important is to know that the show must go on.

BK: Besides the Apple Girls Band, what do you do?
Fern: I’m studying computer engineering. I also teach the piano and singing; and I sing at The Wave, Route 66, and The Den.
Pac: I’m a third year student. I sing at private events and also do a bit of modeling for Lots Hop and Thiranon clothing.
Walnut: I’ve done a lot of work. I’m so hyper. I’ve worked for advertising agencies, night clubs and I was a barista in a coffee shop. I just came back from Canada after studying there for six months.

BK: What’s the feedback so far?
Pac: There are good and bad comments. Some people say that we’re just copying bands from abroad by using electronic gadgets; some say we should stick to real instruments. But they don’t know that we can also play real instruments.

Also in the Apple girls Boonyavat “Vas” Thanasomboon, Jamaporn “Tookta” Saengtong, Nichamon “Wan-Yen” Pongsuwun and Nissara “Mint” Sitthathikarnvet. See them at http://ow.ly/8177f.

If an eskimo was freezing his ass off, what’s the first thing you would do?
Remind him that thanks to global warming, there’s light at the end of the tunnel, so hang in there!

What are some similarities with stand-up and drumming?
Many people are disappointed to find rockers in metal bands to be boring and quiet off stage because they’re probably stuck in their own little world of ringing-ears and whiplash. The same is often the case with comedians, many are quite boring off stage.

Folks tend to undermine the role of boredom, how influential is it in your life?
It’s one of the reasons I got into comedy. Because talking about life in general was too boring, I needed a twist. I got bored about saying the same thing in the same way so I started making jokes about it just to keep myself entertained. A laughing crowd is really a by-product of entertaining my boredom.

Like detectives, comics are noted for their observational skills, what’s your latest obsession?
The different ways McDonalds is cutting costs these days. From not giving you ketchup packets if you don’t ask, to realizing they only give you half-a-slice of cheese for your Filet-O-Fish!

What’s the biggest myth about Indian comedians you’d like to bust?
That we only can make fun of our body hair, odor and cheapness. We make fun of everyone’s body hair, odor and cheapness. The prerequisite is for them to have lots of body hair, odor and cheapness, and those are things we excel at.

Any surprises in store for Karma Komedians?
Karma Komedians? I thought this was the Bachelor for Arranged Marriages? I had all these jokes written to impress the dads and daughters.

Karma Komedians is on December 16-17 at The Arts House Chamber.

It’s been almost seven years since the release of your last album, any heads up to the next one?
We’re finally done with recording after a hard disk crash caused us to lose all our songs. The album is shaping up very nicely—we don’t want to disclose too much, but expect it to be fun.

Any plans to reach out to folks who might not be into ska?
We keep an open mind when it comes to reaching out to the masses—we don’t restrict ourselves to playing for underground gigs. So far we’ve been invited to play for weddings, corporate and festive events.

It’s never easy to have day jobs and write music—what’s your secret?
MCs, urgent leave and skiving. Who says men can’t multi-task?

If Cesspit could cover two local songs, what would they be?
Two songs by the legendary Malaysian filmmaker P.Ramlee, “Ubat” and “Sua Sue Kemuning.” We wouldn’t change the essence of the tunes, but we will most probably add a little bit of Cesspit to the fun that already exists in the songs.

Your greatest non-musical influence?
It’s not easy to come to a consensus but we have to agree—we are all mommy’s boys. Our mothers are our biggest influence.

What kind of set can we expect for The Tribal Gathering of Jaw Benders?
Pyrotechnics and fire breathers, with male strippers and pole dancers. Don’t believe us? There’s only one way to find out, you have to be there.

Catch Cesspit and a host of other local music acts at the Tribal Gathering of Jaw Benders on December 17 at The Substation.

What inspired the exhibition?
Myanmar has long been a closed society. That’s why the outside world doesn’t know if there is contemporary art in Myanmar or not. Some people think the art scene in Myanmar is still traditional. That’s not true. While we have a strong traditional art community, some artists are practicing contemporary art. But for those contemporary artists, the opportunity to exhibit their works outside the country is scarce.

What can we expect to see in this experimental showcase?
You can see how Myanmar’s artists practice contemporary art under scrutiny. It’s an introduction of Myanmar contemporary art to the world. 

How has the the art scene in Burma evolved since the 90s?
In those days, less than five artists practiced contemporary art. But now we have around 20 contemporary artists in Myanmar whose works are becoming more conceptual and reflective with an experimental edge.

How is the new generation of Burmese artists different from the older generation?
Outburst, escapology and emotionalism are popular themes amongst the early generations of Myanmar artists. The younger generation has become more and more conceptual: calm, simple, concrete and interactive. This new generation emerged after 2000.

What is life like for progressive Burmese artists who live in Burma?
An artist’s life is the same everywhere—not very sustainable economically. They have to do other jobs. So far we haven’t got a strong market for contemporary art. Space is also an issue. There is no art museum in Myanmar, no art center or art space. But a few so-called art centers or art spaces have appeared over recent years.

You’ve done showcases in many countries. What distinguishes Burmese art?
In Myanmar, we don’t really have community-based art projects. Myanmar artists are more into general issues than handling specific issues like politics, or economy. One reason for not being focused on issues like politics is that there are risks, threats and insecurity—you can be arrested. You can’t even criticize society in some cases.

Can these art pieces be exhibited in Burma? Or do they face censorship from the authorities?
Some have already been shown inside Myanmar. These pieces talk about more than politics—there are many themes or subject matters in them. But you never know what the authorities will read into art pieces.

Why do an exhibition?
It’s always related to the films or short films I’m doing. It’s a kind of rough sketch, or an opportunity to do something abstract that I can’t do in a movie. For Primitive, there’s Uncle Boonmee [the movie], a book, short films—many fragments. And sometimes it’s almost a performance when I collaborate with the people [in Nabua]. But since there’s less money here, this exhibition is more intimate [than the Primitive exhibitions abroad].

You’re dealing with the memory of people killed by the Thai army. Do you ever self-censor?
Even though the work is political, I don’t feel a need to censor myself. I don’t want to make a heavy political film. The installation should represent yourself, your take, your shared memories of the people there, with the hope that afterwards people can go back and talk about what happened or look it up on the internet.

Still, it is very political.
It’s impossible not to talk politics. The education system is just an illusion in Thailand. The way I grew up, the education I received, the history books of my nephew, they’re full of lies, full of propaganda. What Thailand has been going through is lies, many lies. We went to listen firsthand and record many hours of conversation with the older generations [in Nabua], to reeducate ourselves, even if it’s rather late. There are certain key institutions involved, like the army and... Something is still there. It’s about the fear, the cultural fear. Faith and fear. You worship something and, at the same time, you can’t step out of line.

You don’t worry about getting in trouble?
This exhibition is very mild. It’s not political at all. It’s very personal. It’s a journey with these kids to a spaceship. It’s about escape and all that. It has a reason behind it but living in this country, I know what I can say and what I cannot. I don’t want to be too direct anyway.

Is that the goal, though? Do people have to dig deeper to figure it out?
It’s like my film. When I make it, it’s for me, my curiosity for the place. When it’s shown, it has a life of its own. So it depends on the individual viewer, whether he or she wants to dig, how much you want to know about the background. If you don’t care about it, take it all in visually, it’s OK. For me, I have my own references but again, like other artists, I don’t mind other interpretations. That’s what art is supposed to be.

Why Nabua? Why is its past so important?
I want to know myself. Like when I make movies, I always select actors that have a lot of experience that I don’t have. People say, they are not professional. But for me they are very professional, professional at being human beings. They’ve gone through so much. But for me, my life is so simple, so I want to learn. Making movies is a pretext, a path to that. Being in Nabua has really allowed me to share and understand better, through new friends, how as a country we became what we are now. Communism was a big turning point for Thailand, how the Americans came, how people felt left out until now.

Has your art changed Nabua?
I don’t know. I’ve sent them DVDs but I haven’t gone back. I’m going back next year with the Jim Thompson Foundation, when we plan to host the exhibition in the village. I didn’t want to change their lives. I wanted to be there, not as a tourist, but not as an inhabitant. It is sensitive. Sometimes you treat them simply as subjects, and it’s like taking advantage of them.

Has funding for your art improved since you won in Cannes?
In Thailand, it’s always on and off that you don’t really have much hope in the government. Sometimes it’s coming, sometimes not. I tend to be cautious about government funding. They want you to do certain things. If I have a choice, I prefer not to have funding from them. If you look at art from countries with funding, it’s very academic and boring. Maybe the artwork would be more interesting with less money.

What’s next?
I’m finishing one very romantic film of a hotel on the Mekong, in Nongkai. It’s a one-hour film called Mekong Hotel. My crew go there and my friend, who is a guitar teacher improvises and plays guitar for an hour. My crew is trying to rehearse a movie about this ghost who goes around eating innards. It’s like a documentary but every scene is shot in a hotel room.

And will the movie in the movie ever exist?
I hope so. This is almost to find out, what is this movie? The fun part is shooting it in a hotel. It’s full of melancholia. And then I’m doing a film festival in March with Tilda Swinton, in Yao Noi, next to Phuket. It’s very snobbish and by invitation only but we’ll do a more public one in Bangkok. Then I’m doing a short film with her and writing a feature film, hopefully to be shot in 2013.

My family life wasn’t perfect. My dad died when I was ten years old and I had conflicts with my step dad. I left home when I was in grade 12 because I felt my mom didn’t believe in me. She thought I was a wayward kid.

I decided I would take care of myself and cut off all support from my family. I earned a living by tutoring in French and social studies. I spent only B100 a day.

What kept me out of trouble were my friends and school [Triamudom and Chulalongkorn University]. They were the twin pillars of my life.

School was like my golden age. I got to do all my beloved activities, like stage plays.

I first started DJ’ing [music shows] in 2003 but I felt really blessed as a DJ when I first hosted JudgeJudd [a news variety radio program] in 2010. I felt it was so me. I love talking about and critiquing current events. I wanted that kind of work much more than just talking about music and commercials.

The radio station closed down seven months later and I had to go back to DJ’ing [music] at FM90. It was really frustrating.

I posted clips on YouTube criticizing the Flood Relief Operation Center (FROC) officers. I just wanted to say what I felt. The first one didn’t get much attention so I did a second without any expectations, but it got massive hits and went viral really fast. It’s got more than 600,000 views now.

I was suspended from my DJ job at FM90 and got fired over the phone a month later. I wasn’t angry but I felt bad that they did it without any proper explanation.

I didn’t feel guilty after posting those clips. It’s just a door closing. Another will open. I had enough of being a DJ who just does music. And I will preserve the JudgeJudd channel on YouTube as my sacred space that commercials and politics can’t reach.

I do feel sorry for scolding members of the government too rudely. I should respect that they are senior officers in our country.

I felt angry when I was threatened. I got this call and then my car was vandalized. It’s like a dog biting at your back. If they don’t like what I say, why don’t they come to talk me in person?

The entertainment industry has this curse—people in it can’t talk about politics. They will get in trouble if they do, and have no idea who ordered it.

I want to make politics like entertainment, like it happens in the US. I want to produce TV news that’s not just reporting. I don’t want to sit in the newsroom without changing anything. My style is about critique and expressing my attitude.

There is no media in this world that is neutral, despite what textbooks say. Every reporter has a viewpoint. It depends on them to make it explicit.

I’ve stopped looking for new friends now. I am pleased with the quantity and quality of friends that I have. They’re real friends who are ready to be with me when I have troubles.

I’m afraid of money and business because these things can change people. I don’t want to be all that rich. I just want to take care of my family.

I brought my mom and my elder sister to live with me after I bought a house. I told my mom to choose me or my stepdad. She chose me.

I am proud that I can take care of my mom now. She has worked hard as a food vendor her whole life. I was quite happy when she sighed and said, “Now my life is comfortable and I’m only dying of old age.” That means she feels her life is good now.

I am not being dramatic. I don’t use politics to get people’s attention. Everyone needs to find a core in life that will make you feel balanced.

My biggest dream is to act in stage plays. They always light a fire in my heart.

Some dreams in life can only be just a dream and you have to move on with something that you like second-best.

http://www.youtube.com/user/TheJudgeJudd

BK: What’s your background?
My mom and dad met in Chiang Mai before moving to work in New York, where I was born. I am their only child. My dad worked as a cook while my mom worked as a seamstress at a clothing company. I also regularly visited my relatives in Thailand.

BK: When did you think about becoming a stuntman?
When I was 13, I first saw Jackie Chan in a trailer for Rumble in the Bronx. It was only two minutes long, but I was like, “Wow.” He’s so amazing. I never thought humans could do things like this before, and I wanted to do them too. I finally had a chance to study at a martial arts school where I learned kung-fu from Shaolin masters. It’s tough and not fun at all. But what kept driving me was the will to be better. I stopped when I got into college. My parents wanted me to get a proper education before chasing my dream.

BK: When did your first stunt job happen?
After graduation, I decided I would join Jackie Chan’s action team in China so I went to Beijing to study Chinese. While I was there, Ong Bak came out in 2003, and Tony Ja was the new action star. So I came back to Thailand and got in touch with stunt people including Tony. I landed my first job, an M150 commercial, then some lakorn and movies both in Thailand and abroad. Now I am an assistant in the Jaika Stunt Team.

BK: What is your favorite action stunt?
Sky diving from a building with a sling.

BK: How much do you earn?
For me, its starts from B8,000 to B20,000 per day, depending on what the job is. I’m now doing only commercials and movies, not lakorn because I don’t like the way they work. Sometimes they told me to be there at 5am but I wasn’t needed until 3pm. That’s ridiculous.

BK: What you don’t like about being a stuntman?
If you compare stunt work in the US, there’s a huge difference in terms of both money and work conditions. Here, stuntmen, who all are so talented, have to fight for work because producers need the lowest price. Some even accept as little as B1,000. That’s wrong. They should realize that doing this will not help upgrade the quality of work here. I want all stuntmen to form a group so we can have better conditions.

BK: So why do you still love to do it?
I don’t want to be old and start thinking “Why didn’t I do this when I was younger?” I don’t want to be sorry later, so I will do it until I’m bored with it. Anyway, I also decided that if I can’t make it, or when I’m getting older, I might go to work in something that involves languages. Now I can speak Thai, English, Korean and Chinese. I will study Japanese too.

BK: What is your biggest dream?
I want to be an action actor where people can recognize my face, not just my back.
 

I was a very happy child, smiley and confident—well at least until my mid teens!

Our drama teacher was a bit of a ‘70s hippie but he was my favorite! I reckon my interest in theater stems from that.

I just loved being back stage, the smell, the adrenaline, it was such a buzz.

I stopped wanting to be onstage by my late teens. I couldn’t sing and I found that very inhibiting.

Now that I’m directing, I enjoy the creative process I go through, being involved from conception to last night is so fulfilling and I’m so proud and nervous on opening night—it’s almost like giving birth!

It’s important for local artists to have a voice and to have the opportunity to work on some of the fabulous plays available worldwide.

It’s only become acceptable in the last decade to actually make a career in theater here.

Funding is always an issue. Theatre is expensive to put on and our ticket sales only cover the costs of producing the play. We’re totally reliant on sponsorship as we have no funding. That means that much of our daily hours are spent courting sponsors.

There is no such thing as a “sure thing”!

We have to constantly strive to be better.

My husband Adrian and I are very different beings, he’s a “micro” manager and I’m a “macro” manager, so although some days we frustrate each other we actually complement each other well.

When I first met Adrian he was wearing black leather trousers. These things you don’t forget!

Singapore is home to me now, my kids know no other place to call home and we’re safe, happy and very lucky to lead the life that we do. Who could want for more?

I just want to get better at what I do. I believe we never stop learning.

Love what you do, you only have one life.

Fourteen of the most gorgeous and talented girls take centre stage in a beauty pageant. Only one will become the ultimate Malaysian Girls. And with any beauty pageants, there is drama, suspense, back-stabbing and of course, lots of smiles. That is the premise of the new musical by The Kuala Lumpur Performing Arts Centre (klpac), at klpac’s Pentas 1 from 20-30, December 2011. Led by director Joe Hasham, producer Dato’ Faridah Merican and with a script written by Mark Beau de Silva, you should expect catchy songs, explosive dance moves, and glitzy costumes. Ahead of the opening night we catch up with three of the cast members to get a sneak peek of what to expect.

Aananthan, a radio DJ at THR, plays the flashy Ray Sanjay.

Tell us about your character.
He is mysterious, confident, a ladies’ man, focused but not without his flaws. He also has a softer side to him.

In your own words, what is Malaysian Girls all about?
It’s a feel-good musical! Expect a lot of original songs, dances, laughter and tears!

The best thing about being part of this production?
It has always been a dream to work at klpac and with the likes of Joe Hasham and Dato’. We have a fantastic team and we get along wonderfully. Sometimes, they even think I am one of the girls. Hmmm….

The hardest part?
Rehearsals are very engaging physically and mentally. Also, as it finishes at 10:30pm every day, I have to then think about my radio work that starts at 6am!

Opening night is just around the corner. Thoughts?
Really excited! It’s going to be a lovely journey. Tell your friends and family!

Your definition of a true Malaysian Girl?
She is beautiful, has a lovely heart, is your closest friend and your confidante. She is constantly searching for herself but she doesn’t need to, for all she needs is inside her. She needs to trust herself more.

Anything to tell the public?
There are a lot of hot single ladies in this production! If you want, I can introduce you to them!

Beauty pageants are…
A test of a woman’s capabilities and a rush in a man’s capillaries!

Min’z, one of the five songwriters for the production.

In your own words, what is Malaysian Girls all about?
If you are glued to the TV when it is the finals for a beauty pageant or when America’s Next Top Model is on, well, this is the super local version of that. The best thing about it is that you get to watch it live, onstage! You can’t get anymore Malaysian than this.

You wrote some of the songs. Which is your favourite?
Definitely ‘Death of Beauty.’ Anything that is dark is lyrically satisfying for me. Just like how dark chocolates are so satisfying and feed the craving one can have. But don’t worry – I am a happy well-rounded child in person.

The best thing about being part of this production?
Like car drifting, you are out of control but in control at the same time. The best thing is that we are free to do whatever we want and yet we still have to stick to what we do.

The hardest part?
How to say no to Joe Hasham! It is my first attempt at writing songs for a musical. I was a little worried at first because I was afraid my lyrics would not fit into the storyline.

Opening night is just around the corner. Thoughts?
I am really excited to see everything come alive. It’s a great honour for a singer songwriter like myself to have my music up on stage and performed by the very talented cast.

Anything to tell the public?
If you had a good time laughing at the ‘Booms’ and the ‘Prings’ (yeah, you know what I am talking about), believe me, Malaysian Girls can pull any ‘Prings’ and ‘Booms’ better!

A Malaysian Girl is…
All-you-can-have buffet dinner.

Tabitha Kong, plays Serenity Billion, she has also acted in ADAM The Musical and The Last Five Years.

Serenity Billion sounds like an interesting name. Does it mean anything?
I’d love to tell you but maybe I shouldn’t. Watch the musical and find out!

In your own words, what is Malaysian Girls all about?
It is about Malaysian Girl Power. It is about knowing your identity and believing you can be who you are and make a difference without trying to be someone else. It is about being proud of whatever has made you who you are today.

The best thing about being part of this production?
We all have at some point in our lives wondered what it is like to be a beauty queen. This is the closest thing we can get to actually experiencing that feeling!

The hardest part?
Wearing heels the whole time throughout rehearsal and performances. Kills my feet! I am a ‘love-walking-in-flats’ sort of girl.

Which is harder – the singing or the acting?
They both have their challenges, depending on the role or the song. But because this is a musical, you are expected to excel in both. I strive to give the best I can in both areas.

Your definition of a true Malaysian Girl?
She is proud of her heritage, of where she comes from, of who she is, and unafraid to use the best of who she is to give her best to everything she does.

Everyone should come and see Malaysian Girls because…
We have the hottest, truly Malaysian Girls in town. The real stuff!

Catch the glamorous Malaysian Girls from 10th to 30th December 2011 at klpac, and 10th to 15th January 2012 at penangpac. Tickets are sold for RM32 to RM110. Weekday promotions are available. For more details, call 03-4047 9000 or visit mgirls.klpac.org.