Why Singapore isn’t boring: its gritty underbelly explored by online series ‘Living in SIN’

For a pair of young television rebels, Singapore is more than just an uptight, squeaky-clean, conservative state. “People have this impression that Singapore is boring,” says 25-year-old Tan Hui Er, co-founder of the Not Safe For TV online channel. “The interesting parts of our country are there, but we just have to look for them in the right places.” For the channel’s new “Living in SIN” micro-documentary series, Tan and her collaborators did just that. Episodes in the series cover a range of topics, including the city state’s vibrant underground hip-hop scene; nonconformist advertising veteran Pann Lim, known for his offbeat style; two hardcore motorsports enthusiasts who defied the odds to pursue the thrill of fast cars in a city where racing opportunities are limited; and the chequered past of Singapore’s most wanted gangster, Roland Tan, linked to one of the world’s largest drug syndicates. The series is not just about “subverting the whole Crazy Rich Asians glitz and glamour paradigm” but providing another layer to the narrative, says Not Safe For TV’s social and digital media strategist Jerrell Chow. “We want to show a grittier, uncompromising, unheard side of Singapore’s underbelly and a snapshot of what living in our city is like,” Chow, 25, says. “It’s not perfect, but these people embrace it anyway.” Boldly shedding light on difficult issues using lush visuals and an eclectic editing style, Not Safe For TV is the voice of young, emerging local filmmakers and their hunger to push the envelope of online content in the Southeast Asian country. The idea for the channel began to bud in 2018, when Tan and her school friend Benedict Yeo, both communications graduates, pitched an independent web series based on the existential worries of young adults like themselves to several local production companies. Called “One Take”, the series told a fictional coming-of-age story of Singaporean youths over a period of 10 years that was picked up by home-grown video agency The Hummingbird Co. That became the launch pad for the pair to breathe new life into the Not Safe channel, which had been treading water since it was launched by Hummingbird earlier that year. Over the past year the Not Safe channel has steadily grown in popularity, moving from a small cult following to having more than 10,000 Facebook followers and 19,000 on Instagram. Millennials in their 20s and people who are “socially conscious and intellectually curious” are drawn to the alternative perspective the channel provides, Chow says. The content includes a mix of lovingly told dramas and documentaries shot in Singapore and around the region. Popular series include Girls Girls Girls on the lives of four convent schoolgirls navigating the perils of being 16, with themes around same-sex attraction, disparities in social backgrounds, and religious expectations. Through alternative cinematography approaches, the team seeks to push the boundaries of storytelling. For the channel’s “One Take” series, entire episodes are filmed in a single take to show how dramas unfold in real-time, just like real life. The team also used CCTV footage and placed a 360-degree camera between two characters so viewers could decide who they wanted to look at. “We wanted to tell the story with a sense of voyeurism,” Tan says. “That’s the power of social media and how people consume media nowadays. The feel of hand-held content, like you are like a fly on the wall taking a peek through someone’s life through your phone.” The team came up with the five-episode Living in SIN series late last year, which was among five winning projects funded by the Singapore Tourism Board’s Fast Forward fund. The profiles we featured are fully aware of the limitations within Singapore, but they willingly embrace their dreams. It made me think differently about the issue Not Safe For TV’s Jerrell Chow Tan says working on the series has even overturned some of their own misconceptions. She and her colleagues realised, for instance, that the hip-hop scene was about more than just rapping, gold chains, fame and anti-establishment sentiment, but also dedication to the music. “What struck me was how earnest they are about their craft and how they are making a space in Singapore where there was none for themselves – from creating in each other’s homes to pop-up, intimate one-man sets,” she says. For Chow, the series provided a chance to explore Singapore’s local motor-racing scene, which remains a niche sport even though the city state has hosted Formula One races since 2008. Without a proper racetrack or facility for training, and with space constraints, limited racing talent, and a general lack of support from corporations or other backers, the nation’s motorsports fan base remains small. “The profiles we featured are fully aware of the limitations within Singapore, but they willingly embrace their dreams,” Chow says. “It made me think differently about the issue. Instead of always being critical of the state, it’s more about how we adapt and work within those limitations.” A controversial issue was tackled in an episode that follows the journey of visual artist Samantha Lo (dubbed “Sticker Lady”), who was arrested in 2012 for vandalism after pasting “Singlish” satirical stickers on traffic light buttons and spray-painting public roads with typically Singaporean slang. Her arrest catapulted the unknown street artist to overnight fame, with some comparing her to British graffiti artist-provocateur Banksy and others seeing her arrest as a restriction of creative freedom. They argued that if Singapore wanted to progress as a culturally vibrant, creative city, it should tolerate organic activities that may challenge the rules. Lo says the understanding of street art, especially in Singapore, has become “diluted in comparison to the craft anywhere else”. Echoing her views, the Not Safe team say their work is less about making deliberately provocative films and more about sparking thoughtful conversations in society. “It’s naive to think that a video can change a person’s stance on a social issue, but if the content we put out can offer another perspective and sow a small seed to make them want to find out more, then I think we’ve done our job,” Tan says. Chow adds that the Not Safe team wants to provide “nuanced perspectives”. The team is now looking for other ways to interact with audiences on a deeper level, which could mean exploring new social issues, crowdsourcing stories from viewers via Instagram and trying new formats. Everything had to be filmed remotely during Singapore’s pandemic control measures, which offered new and unexpected perspectives, Chow says. One episode investigates how a couple from Malaysia and Singapore coped with a relationship that suddenly became long-distance when borders closed. The director used Zoom to call the protagonists and ducked out of the frame to make it seem like they were on a video call with only each other. Singapore has seen a proliferation of alternative storytelling forms in recent years, along with the growth of new digital video outlets such as Our Grandfather Story. In March, the city state’s National Council Against Drug Abuse launched an anti-drug campaign featuring Singapore’s first interactive short film, High, by award-winning local director Royston Tan. The bold choice to use an interactive approach was viewed by the authorities as a more effective way to engage young people who could be susceptible to methamphetamine abuse. Not Safe’s Tan says pioneer directors such as Eric Khoo, Jasmine Ng and Anthony Chen paved the way for young filmmakers like her. “It frees us creatively,” she says. “They give us space to play, to express that creativity and experiment.” Chow says the new approach is an emerging trend, and he and Tan are just “riding the wave”. “We hone in on that sweet spot between art-house film and readily available online content, so we can bring that curated approach to new audiences and connect with them on a deeper level.”