It should be a moment of celebration for Malaysian cinema. Amanda Nell Eu’s Tiger Stripes became the country’s first film to win the prize for best feature at Cannes’ critics week this year, was selected as the country’s official entry to the next Academy Awards and praised by ministers.
But, if you’re in Malaysia, you won’t be able to watch the real version.
Tiger Stripes – a body-horror, coming-of-age film about an adolescent girl – has been so heavily censored that Eu, its director, said the version recently released in cinemas in her home country is not one she stands behind. “The very essence of why I made this film [has been] removed,” she said.
The past year has been a strong one for Malaysian cinema, with Michelle Yeoh winning best actress at the Oscars and several Malaysian independent films touring the world. “We have had a presence in almost all of the main festivals this year,” said Eu, who added that this is a rare thing. But it’s unlikely most will be shown in Malaysian cinemas, she said: “The strange thing is that most of these films don’t get theatrically released here because they are dealing with topics that maybe will be censored or will be deemed difficult to release here.”
While prime minister Anwar Ibrahim in the past campaigned on a promise of greater civil liberties, there had been no change, added Eu. “Right now, that hasn’t moved.”
Eu’s Tiger Stripes, her debut feature film, follows Zaffan, played by Zafreen Zairizal, a carefree 12-year-old who becomes the first of her friends (played by Piqa and Deena Ezral) to get her period. As she hits puberty, she finds her body is undergoing dramatic, terrifying changes, and she becomes isolated from her peers and village. Eu plays with tropes and monsters from Malaysian folklore to explore universal themes – the nuances of female friendship, bullying and body image.
Various sections of the film have been cut from the Malaysian release – including a scene showing blood on a period pad, a girl trying on her friend’s bra over her uniform as they mess around in the school toilets, and Zaffan doing a joyous TikTok dance in a waterfall, her hair flowing.
It removes the heart of the film, which aims to capture the reality of teenage girls, said Eu. “They’re allowed to be free, they’re allowed to do things in secret and that’s the reality. To censor that made me realise: OK, this is why I told the story.”
Eu grew up in Malaysia, but moved to the UK aged 11 and attended a boarding school in High Wycombe, in Buckinghamshire, before studying at Central Saint Martins and London Film School. As a child in Kuala Lumpur, her mother would often thrill her with folk tales. There were stories of the Pontianak, a beautiful woman who lives in a banana tree, who, if you get close, will attack or eat you, says Eu – especially if you’re a man.
“That was always really terrifying because there are banana trees everywhere here,” she recalled. There were warnings not to go to the nearby lake because there were chopped-up bodies there; not to open an umbrella at home in case you empty out spirits it had collected outside. Such influences – from the Pontianak to were-tigers – are mixed together and inverted in the film.
Eu decided to make a story about a girl going through puberty, and turning into a monster, because this was how she had felt she was viewed – or how she had viewed herself, she said. “I absolutely detested my body … I also didn’t like that people were kind of commenting on these changes.”
When developing the film, Eu held workshops with teenage girls, where they discussed issues such as body image and bullying, and held anonymous Q&A sessions with sex educators. The same universal issues arose: feeling ashamed of their bodies, worrying about boys or sex.
She was unsurprised by the responses of girls involved, especially given recent scandals relating to the treatment of girls in Malaysian schools – including the intense backlash faced by a student who called out a teacher for joking about rape and media coverage exposing “period spot checks”.
Prior to filming, risk assessments were made with regard to protecting the lead actors. There has not been any negative backlash, she said.
Other film-makers who have offended religious conservatives have received significant harassment. Earlier this year, rights groups condemned the treatment of those involved in Mentega Terbang, a film that portrays a young woman exploring the idea of the afterlife in different religions. The director, producer and actors were questioned by police, while the screenwriter’s car was splashed with a corrosive substance. The film was pulled from streaming service Viu.
Self-censorship is a big problem, said Eu. It is harder to get funding from studios if you’re working on projects that push boundaries. She puts the recent successes of Malaysian films down to availability of regional grants, but added that limitations on expression and funding will stifle future growth.
It’s ironic that her film is about a character, and a were-tiger, that isn’t allowed to exist, she said. “That’s what happening to the film as well. It’s been celebrated, but it’s not allowed to be [shown] in full.”
