One was the army training exercise for the footballers in which they fly above the mountains in a helicopter. Together, the footballers and the soldiers sing a patriotic song. The camera then moves out of the window, travelling over beautifully-photographed scenes of mountains, rivers, paddy fields and waterfalls (all of which define the rural landscape, the real heart of Malaysia).
The other scene is when after half-time, the Malaysian football team runs out to enter Stadium Merdeka for the final play. In the background, can be seen fans waving the Malaysian flag. It is all done in slow motion, a cinematic device to create affection images, one that is frequently used to play on audience sentiments to evoke emotion.
Both these scenes are accompanied by stirring music (I found out later that the music composer, Onn San, had actually inserted four notes from Negaraku into it). Both scenes made me remember the first five lines of Negaraku, our
National Anthem:
My country, (Negaraku),
Where my blood was spilt (Tanah tumpahnya darahku).
The people live, united and progressive (Rakyat hidup, bersatu dan maju),
With the grace and happiness (Rahmat bahagia),
That God has conferred… (Tuhan kurniakan…)
(My translation)
We all stand respectfully to attention during the playing of the Negaraku, perhaps with some among us given to reflecting upon the meaning of the words or contemplating our place in the scheme of things, to the individual dictates of our conscience. I recalled to mind our first Prime Minister, Tunku Abdul Rahman and his fervent words in the Declaration of Independence in 1957, in the very same stadium where the original football game was played:
But while we think of the past, we look forward in faith and hope to the future; from henceforth we are masters of our destiny and the welfare of this beloved land is our own responsibility… High confidence has been reposed in us; let us unitedly face the challenge of the years. And so with remembrance for the past and with confidence in the future, under the providence of God, we shall succeed.
No matter what we are, we are all Malaysians.
Again, as in his earlier film, The Journey (2014), Chiu has a 'message' for all Malaysians in OlaBola. It is one that does not differ very much as seen from the words of the Tunku. The only difference is that Chiu accompanies the lyrics in the patriotic song with meaningful visuals. We see the 'nation' and 'the motherland' as if in their primordial essence, before the coming of any migrant. It is as if this was how it looked when God first created it – pristine, serene and calm. In the language of film, it is, of course, meant to be associated with the footballers who come from various backgrounds and ethnicities. It is meant to represent their journey and is associated, in the words of Sri Ramana Maharshi, with their self-realisation before the final 'battle' on the football field.
READ: OlaBola: Acting as goalkeeper was tough but worth it - Saran Kumar
READ: 'OlaBola brought back memories of being at Merdeka Stadium' - Nazir Razak
While the song in the helicopter is a patriotic song sung by soldiers who are stoic and ready to die for the country, it takes on a deeper meaning in relation to the footballers: that they, too, are also warriors. Their attaining to self-realisation leads to their sacrifice where they set aside their personal feelings. In doing so, they gain victory and render a service to the nation and to the world:
We are in the front line (Inilah barisan kita),
Steadfast in our resolve (Yang ikhlas berjuang),
Ever ready to sacrifice (Siap sedia berkorban),
For the beloved motherland… (Untuk ibu pertiwi…)
(My translation)
This is the reason for the inclusion in the screenplay of army-style training for the footballers and it is meaningfully shot by Chiu, especially in the scene of the footballers crawling through mud under barbed wire. Each one is photographed separately in a close shot, heading directly for the camera and juxtaposed through editing one after the other. (This technique has been earlier utilized by Akira Kurosawa in his epic, Seven Samurai. The samurai are seen running fast in individual shots. The editing 'sutures' them, making them look as if they were one). The gestalt that emerges is due to the arrangement of the various parts as seen through the shot size (close shots), through their action of crawling (similarity) and through the editing (proximity). This is carried on later through the words of Rahman (taking the name of Tunku), the sports commentator, towards the end of the film in the final broadcast, when he likens them to perwira (warriors).
And so, in the words of the Tunku: ...with remembrance for the past and with confidence in the future, under the providence of God…, the footballers work together as a team and they succeed.
For Chiu, OlaBola is a creative act of citizenship. For him, the graffiti on Malaysia's wall is very clear (Yasmin Ahmad literally depicted this in the opening title sequence of her first cinema feature in 2004, Sepet). We need to read the signs of destruction that are tearing the nation apart. We need to go beyond our personal problems, we need to set aside our differences and work together as a united nation for the country to succeed. That is the way; it is the only way. As is enshrined in the National Anthem, God has conferred this land to us. How we shape it is left to us.
OlaBola begins with a negative image (in film language) of a 16mm recording of the 1980 football game. This black and white image signifies the present state of affairs in the country. Towards the end of OlaBola, Soh Chin Aun (Tauke), one of the original real-life footballers, appears in the television studio. The broadcast of the game is now behind him, signifying the overcoming of problems. The final image is another slow-motion shot of the film’s footballers in a victory run around the stadium carrying the Malaysian flag, over which we hear Chin Aun’s voice. It is almost like a plea. It is, in reality, Chiu's exhortation to us:
Kami bercakap lainan bahasa, tapi menyanyi lagu yang sama.
Kita kalah sama-sama, kita menang sama-sama.
(We speak different languages, but we sing the same song.
We will lose together, we will also win together).
(My translation)
Chin Aun's voice carries over to an aerial shot of a bright, greenery-dominated mountainous landscape. The train, seen early in the film, carries Marianne, the television producer, who had plans to leave the country. She now leans out of the window, smiling, flying the Malaysian flag in the wind. Her face beams, full of hope. She has not given up on the country. She is going to stay. She, too, has attained to self-realisation and has rediscovered her homeland. This, if you have attained to realisation, is the real subject of OlaBola. It is the background story.
READ: 'Football was once played for the nation' - Rafidah Aziz
READ: No need to blow up dispute over 'OlaBola' - KJ
Chiu is telling us that the graffiti on the wall of present-day Malaysia, with all it trials and tribulations, is more than legible. Shall we not understand and react to it? Or shall we be like those, as Matthew Henry has noted: None so blind as those that will not see. Tunku Abdul Rahman was confident, that we are masters of our destiny and that the welfare of this beloved land is our own responsibility…
Ah Chai, the gawky reserve footballer who was always the butt of jokes in OlaBola, says that he is like a small screw in a big machine but that he, too, was important. No one is irrelevant. Everybody has a part to play in the affairs of the nation. Ah Chai knew this. The people know this. They have known it all along. The ball (pun intended) is now in the court of the leaders and the politicians. Can we hope for self-realisation infusing their venerable selves? Can they, too, make a sacrifice for the sake of the nation?
Tunku Abdul Rahman's words in the Declaration of Independence provide a beacon for us: High confidence has been reposed in us; let us unitedly face the challenge of the years. And so with remembrance for the past and with confidence in the future, under the providence of God, we shall succeed.
No matter what we are, we are all Malaysians.
The opinions expressed in this article are strictly those of the author's and do not necessarily reflect Astro AWANI's.
