Laos' Rocket Festival

First written : May 2006. I might as well get this out of the way first.

The Lao celebrate a festival known as Bung Bangfai aka rocket festival. It is usually in May and it is basically a fertility rite held to celebrate the coming of the rainy season. I let that sink in for a while. A fertility rite for farmers to ask for bountiful rain. Singapore is not a farming society and we probably won't ever understand how important rain is for the farmers all around the world. Every ancient farming culture has its own fertility rites to make sure that they will have a good harvest. Farmers in Europe throw oats, blessed by their priests, at each other. In medieval England, the farmers had this ceremony called "wassling". Basically, the farmers ate wheat cakes dipped in cider and then offered a piece to an apple tree. The farmers then banged pots and fired guns into the sky in order to scare the bad apples spirits away. To call for rain, ancient celtic farmers walked the fields barefooted for a day and offered prayers and offerings. And if that failed, they offered a human sacrifice. Ouch.

Lao farmers have roughly the same concept (no, they don't kill people). Their interesting theory is that God of Rain is a lazy bastard and once every year, they must arouse him from his lazy slumber (maybe God of Rain is busy playing Playstation and carousing with other ladies immortals) by doing the following things:

(a) shoot rockets into the sky to prick at all those f_ckers in heaven to wake up and start doing their job of bringing rain down;
(b) sing, dance and make as much noise as possible to wake up those said f_ckers in heaven;
(c) men to cross dress as women (the usual bras and skirts) and parade around so that the f_ckers in heaven will get offended at their impropriety and summon lashing rain to wash out their unholy parade;
(d) just be a annoying dumbass.

I am not making the above up by the way. They really do such things every year designed to try to piss the God of Rain off every year.

Pictures.

(procession of dumbasses with bamboo rockets)

The whole village turned out at this padi field to watch the rockets being launched into the air. Small rickety bridge which the village built to cross the canal to the field.

Dumbass in skirt making last minute alteration to his homemade rocket.

Rocket festival is a big thing in Laos. Every village has a competition to see whose rocket can fly the highest with the most beautiful trajectory. I have seen drunken fights broke out when contestants dispute the judges' decision. Rockets are homemade using some fertilisers (usually some cowdung if one couldn't afford chemical fertiliser) and some battery acid. The guy shoving in shit (not joking, real cow dung) into the rocket above is apparently the resident rocket maker. He commands great respect (see all the attentive men looking at him shoving shit) in the village.

Successful take-off of a home made rocket. Over the years, the Rocket Festival develops another custom. You build a rocket, made a wish and the higher it lies, the more likely that your wish will be fulfilled.

As you can see, these rockets are not exactly up to ISO standards or made with industry safety in mind. What do you expect from bullshit and battery acid in a plastic container? For every rocket that took off, there is one that exploded prematurely. I present to you some pics of homemade rockets exploding and almost killing Lao dumbasses who just loved to stand close to the action.

(Must be a cheaply made cow dung rocket. Couldn't even hold it together)

(Exploded even before take off)

(This one flopped onto the padi field and exploded among the people in a fury of smoke and sparks)

Yet another strange and quirky festival from Laos. The funny thing is that it actually rained the day after.

People I met in this region - Part 1

I met loads of interesting people in this region. By interesting, I meant insane.

I met an American woman called . . .hmm, let's call her River (you will know in a minute why). A year ago, I used to frequent this cafe named Kung's Cafe for breakfast on weekend mornings. This cafe is located in a back alley of an isolated street. It is actually a little too pretentious to call it a cafe. It is basically two tables placed outside someone's house with a parasol blocking out the sun. The alley is as dilapited as those streets in Cairo and New Delhi which I walked during my travels. The cafe is only known to a few foreigners working in Laos and run by a Lao woman named Kung (hence the name Kung's cafe). Kung served up tasty pan-fried eggs and white bread spread with butter and jam. The highlight of Kung's breakfast is the Lao coffee. For those who don't know what is Lao coffee, it is basically local Lao coffee with half the glass filled with condensed milk. That's right, boys and girls. Half the glass is filled condensed milk. It is basically enough to give anyone a massive sugar rush and kill any diabetic patients on the spot. Suicide by sugar. First time drinkers will be bouncing off walls after their first glass. If you like your coffee super strong and ultra sweet, come to Laos. Diabetes is a problem here by the way.

I always meet River when I frequented Kung's cafe in the past. River was an American from Chicago and comes to Laos about the same time I did. She stayed next door to Kung's cafe and helped a local run a library for the kids. The library was absolutely crummy and I doubt that she was paid at all - merely just a place to stay. She is the typical foreigner who comes to Laos with no money and just do whatever jobs available to get by. River was fair-skinned and a wispy woman. She was good friend with Kung and Kung always provide her with free meals. She didn't eat much anyway. River was softspoken and as you might guess by now, a little loony. How loony? Well, I asked her once why she came to Laos with no money and ended up manning a crummy library for Lao kids. This is River's story. Remember, she was a university graduate.

"Before I graduated from my university in Chicago, I had a dream. I was standing in a field and the sun was shinning. I was peaceful. A man with the most beautiful face I have ever seen was standing by a sparkling river filled with trouts. He was smiling at me and beckoning me to come to him. I woke up before I could go but I instinctly knew that the river was in Laos. Where is the river located in Laos, I do not know. But I do know that my destiny is to come to Laos and find the river. When I find the river, I will find the man and the answer I seek. And you know what is the strangest thing? I have never heard of Laos before my dream." She said this in a dream-like trance with a smile on her face. No BS, she meant what she said.

Ladies and gentleman, we have a winner of the CO's Mad Woman Award 2005! When I finished listening, my jaw must had dropped to the floor and Kung had to sweep it up for me. I could hear loony tunes playing in the background and almost see Roadrunner doing the "pip, pip!" as it zoomed past this loony woman from Chicago who dropped everything, career and family, to go find a river in a strange foreign land simply because she dreamt it. I am betting that she was either on drugs or had an abusive childhood. Which dumbass drop everything in life to pursue a figment of his dream? Hey, I dreamt of fighting Superman once but that doesn't mean I have to go fufil my "destiny of fighting Superman"? Crazy American woman.

And they always ask me why I didn't get a girlfriend in Laos. Between nasty, fat bitches and mad woman looking for a river, I am really spoilt for choice here.

Bangkok's routine Part III - Food

"Food, Glorious Food!" - Vultures' song from Ice Age 2

Bangkok = wonderful and affordable food. I have been to Bangkok enough times to get a set eating routine in place now. This time, I took advantage of the newly established night flight (about 9.30 pm) to fly to Bangkok. I was rubbing my hand in glee when I thought about the glorious food which I would be getting my grubby hands on.

Then this shit came along.

Pardon my hokkien but wah lah eh!!! Salmon fillet with rhye bread on Thai Airways flights again! I can't believe that Thai Airlines actually served this shit for breakfast, lunch and even supper! Who eat this for supper? Do I look like a Franciscian Monk?

So the next morning, I hit my favourite eating spot in Bangkok. Does the below picture look familiar?

It is familiar because it is Crystal Jade. Crystal Jade has some branches in Bangkok. The one which I usually frequent is the branch in Amarin Plaza - near BTS Chidlom. I am so in love with Crystal Jade. The place is clean and its food, affordable and awesome. Service is fast and efficient. I tried the noodles and chicken soup (pic above) which almost have me giving thanks on my knees. I finished it so fast that the waitress couldn't believe her eyes when I started waving my hands asking to see the menu again, just minutes after she put the noodles infront of me. She eyed me suspiciously as if I just got out of prison. I placed my visa card on the table just in case she starts calling security. What's up next is of course, the xia long baos.

(The reason why I work)

But these xia long baos are not just the typically xia long baos which are awesome in its own right. These xia long baos are filled with pork and foie gras!! Xiaxue will totally dig this stuff. I know I do. Sometimes, I think my only objective in working is to get enough money to afford baskets of xia long baos.

So I just spent hours at Crystal Jade eating basket after basket of xia long baos, reading a book and drinking hot tea. It was therapeutic and the most enjoyable use of time since . . . the last time I was here. I never have the time to do all this when i was working and living in Singapore. Somehow there just wasn't enough time to just kick back and relax with a book in a restaurant. Singaporeans look at you (eating alone and reading a book carefreely in Crystal Jade) will think you are either gay or good for nothing who is living off rich parents.

This is also one reason that I usually travel alone. There is no irritiating girl pulling your sleeves asking you to hurry up and finish eating so that they could shop for clothes or God forbids, LV bags. I don't know why so many men and women feel so sad, needy and unwanted when they eat alone. I feel liberated.

Another well-kept secret in Bangkok is the German restaurant / pub called "Bei Otto" located in in Sukhomwit Soi 20. I found out recently that this place was actually recommended in some guidebooks. This is another one of my favourite eating joint where I can park my ass for hours just reading a book. The interior:

Some hot round bread with butter to start with. And then . . . .

(Paradise on a plate)

OMG. OMG. OMG. There is a God afterall and He is just and merciful. German Pork Knuckle!!! The Germans called it Schweinshaxe. Look at the size of the pork knuckle, encased in an awesome layer of crispy skin and bubbling fat. (I need to lay down after writing the last line). Check out how much meat and crispy fat/skin it got on it. The whole knuckle is cooked to perfection. This whole plate comes up to less than S$15 or 320 baht. Lawrys and other arty-farty western restaurants from Singapore can take its S$100 steak and shove it up its ass.

(Hallelujah!)

I always wanted to try other things on the menu (like the German sausages) but everytime I see Schweinshaxe on the menu, I just have to order it. Damn. It is days like these where I pity people who are vegetarians. Those dumbasses have no clue what they are missing. Pork knuckle rules.

I also discovered that Sukhumwit Soi 16 is absolutely crawling with Arabs and Middle-Easterners. There is even a Uzbekistan restaurant (I know that Uzbekistan isn't exactly in the middle-east) which I did not have the opportunity to try (note to self : must try their couscous and kebabs). I did notice lots of kebab stalls along the road. Look:

(Vegetarians can go to a corner and sulk)

Ahh . . takes me back to the days when I was walking around in Istanbul, Turkey in 2003. I recalled eating a doner kebab along the shores of the Bosphorous after meeting a Singaporean couple who asked me to take a picture for them on the Galata Bridge during sunset. So I couldn't resist and order one.

After buying it and taking a bite, I decided that I was wrong and it wasn't a Turkish doner kebab. It was actually closer to a felafel (Egyptian food). They used a pitalike bread to stuff all sort of things in it, together with the kebab meat, and then roll it up. It wasn't completely a felafel also because it had no fava beans. Anyways, it wasn't bad and only costs S$2.

On my flight back, they served duck with noodles. Thank God, salmon on bread did not make an appearance. Still tasted horrible though.

Things everyone hear once in their life and wants to kill the speaker with a fork - Part II

I had dinner with a couple of ladies a few weeks ago. The ladies were single, plump and in their forties. When I say plump, I mean fat. It wasn't a pleasant dinner because it was actually work for me. Anything that takes me away from my playstation and involves me eating dinner with fat ladies, trust me, we could safely classify it as work. Backbreaking coolie work, no less.

Still, I thought it wouldn't be so bad if the ladies were nice. Sure, they were not exactly Fann Wong level of eye-candy but if these bunch of old hog ladies are good conversationalist and nice people, the evening wouldn't be a total write-off. These ladies had the reputation to be very, intelligent, successful and each of them has an awesome career that clearly dwarfs mine. If we are playing Warcraft, I will be the peasant which is always sent to mine gold and build toilets while these ladies are the powerful elves and witches which can cast lightning and summon . . err. . other peasants. Pardon the nerdspeak.

So I opened the dinner conversation with a one liner towards one of the woman," You look quite nice tonight." It was 100% lie of course since we all know fat women don't look nice in anything. CO is mean? Of course, but that doesn't mean it is not true.

So what do you normally do when a guy compliment that you look nice? Most women will just mumble "thank you" or a more enthusiastic "really? thanks!" or the sweet ones will say "you look really good too!" Of course, most women probably know that the men are just making polite dinner conversation aka a white lie, and just go along with it. The men are trying to break the ice. Work with them.

But of course some bitches will turn their nose up at you, give a smirk and smartly reply with the following Things Everyone Hears Once in Their Life and Wants Kill the Speaker with a Fork (TEHOTLWKSF) (copyrighted) one liner:

"So you are saying that I only look good tonight? But not other nights?"

Hey, you know what, bitch? This is why you are still single in your 40's despite spending the last 2 decades desperately looking for a husband all over the world. Stop whining that your well-paid job takes up too much of your time, Singaporean men are not good/smart/sensitive enough for you and it is hard to settle down in Singapore. You are single and fat, and will die lonely and morbidly obese, because of one reason and just one reason only:

YOU ARE A FAT, NASTY BITCH.

I met so many Singaporean women in their 40s bitching about their inability to get a husband and settle down. They blame their jobs, Singaporean men and society. Of course, these are just smokescreens. The real problem is they themselves and they know it. They can't get married simply because everyone can sense her natural arrogance, bitchiness and skankiness radiating 10 feet from her spores - sort of like a circle of evil. Plants die in the wake of her royal bitchiness' footsteps. Even if some fat bitches can disguise it (and some women in their 40's can really disguise it until they look like demure, successful women), the minute they say "Are you saying I don't look good on other days?" is a dead giveaway and exposes their awesome nastiness. It is like Gotham City illuminating the night sky with the Bat sign looking for Batman. No one can miss the Bitch's sign.

A woman's mind is a nasty piece of work. Let me give an example:

Woman : You look nice today.

Man (mind) : She is complimenting you. Say something nice back, stupid.

Man (mouth): Thanks. You look great too.

Now let's reverse the roles . . . . .

Man : You look nice today.

Woman (mind) : Is he hitting on me? Who does he think he is? Does he mean I only look good today? Is he saying that I look fat almost everyday? Even if he is sincere in his compliment, he is beneath me. He is a peasant, poor like a church mice and looks like he just got out of bed. What does he know about fashion and looks? On what basis? He can't even tell a white lie effectively. There is an English logic flaw in his statement. He should say something to the effect that I am stunning and look good every minute of my life.

Woman (conscience) : Hmm . . . I am in my mid 40's and fat.I am so fat that the weighing machine asked the washing machine for help when I park my fat ass on to be weighed. I couldn't get a man to be interested in me for the last two decades since the MRT is built. Maybe I should be a little nicer?

Woman (mind) : Shut up, conscience. I am woman, hear me roar!!

Woman (mouth) : So you mean I only look good tonight and not other nights?

I was gripping my fork tightly for the whole dinner. Death to fat, nasty bitches.

Wedding in my dreams

I intended to spend 20 minutes of my precious lunch time writing about something else but I really need to write this down before I forget. Sometimes, you have dreams which are so fantastically bizzare that if you don't pen it down immediately, you will gradually forget parts of it until the entire dream is but a . . .well, dream.

I slept early last night as I felt slightly unwell and after watching Superman Returns on DVD. Come to think of it, maybe I became unwell because of the movie since the movie is nothing but a pile of unadulterated (meaning : pure) bullshit which just about killed the Superman franchise for good. More about the Man of Steel wearing his underwear outside later.

I dreamt that I was attending a wedding in a chapel. This was rare for me since I hate attending weddings. For me, weddings are occasions in which every boy and girl turns up in their most splendid suits and dresses. The guys pretend that they are someone important in life (Oooh, I am Assistant Vice Acting Deputy Senior Associate designate - WTF is that?) and girls pretend that they have a happy family life with high-flying kids/ successful career with loving boyfriend sweeping them off the feet for a romantic weekend in Paris/ not sluts trolling the nightclubs for men prey. Grrr. Boys wear the best Armani suit they can find (Armani suits blow ass by the way) and girls try to show cleavage where they clearly have none (sort of like Zhang Ziyi in the Banquet). Everyone tries to top one and another in terms of successes in life. For me, weddings are hell since almost everyone is more successful or good looking than me. Not to mention I have to repeat for the infinite time where is Laos, how's the food, what I do for entertainment in that sort of place blah blah . . . .etc etc to death.

The wedding in my dream was for one of my better friends in NUS. The wedding was held in a chapel. It was strange since my friend is not a christian. I know him well and he is honest to goodness and a good man who in real life, is serving the Army. Everyone from my faculty in NUS was there. Do you ever have this sort of dream where it was so real that you can smell and touch things in your dream? This was one of them. I saw everyone from my faculty. It was amazing how vivid and concise a dream can be. A few friends I like, some I hate and most I will stab them with a fork given a chance. Everyone was smiling or whispering. I saw a good friend smiled at me as he passed me by with his girlfriend from the faculty - now wife. Someone I dislike nodded quietly at me when I noticed him standing alone in a corner. Some bitches were discussing hairstyles in a corner of the chapel. I can still hear onesays, "But many guys like this straight hair style for their girls!"

Another amazing thing was that everyone was dressed as if they were not attending a wedding but a lecture at NUS. Everyone looked exactly the same as I remember. Everything. Some were in slippers, some have messy hair and butt ugly t-shirts. A couple I know of was still together, clasping hands even though they had long gone their seperate ways after graduation. There were flowers on the floor and the air somehow smelled like baked bread. Pleasant.

The chapel was quite dark and only parts of the chapel were lited by daylight streaming in from the stained windows. I saw a group of girls I recongnised - old classmates. I approached them, they giggled and then the door opened. My friend, the groom, walked in with someone presumably the bride. As if on cue, someone started playing Canon in D by Pachelbel. Everyone rushed forward to take a look. I got left behind. Suddenly there were lots of food in the chapel especially mimosas and popiahs. Don't ask me why there were popiahs and mimosas in the chapel -I was working on dream physics. If it was my wedding, it will be chicken wings and mashed potatoes. Hmm. A glass of beer (I think) appeared in my hand and I looked around for things to eat. Everyone was clapping and cheering for some reasons. Some priest in white robes and red sash suddenly appeared and starting intoning the usual "death do us part" routine. My friend looked happy.

At this point, I kept thinking something was wrong with the picture but I couldn't put my finger on it. I wanted to yell that something was wrong so stop cheering and let me think for a minute.

Then I was at a bar in a posh hotel. Everyone was now in their finest suits and dresses. They were standing around drinking and laughing. Somebody I know (and intensely dislike) asked me whether he can buy me a drink. I said no. He asked me whether he can buy me a drink later. That's an interesting idea. Here's another one - NO. MUWAHAHAHAA. Even in dream, I own his ass!

And then, my friend-the groom, was sitting next to me by the bar; away from his bride and all the smiling and cheering crowd who were all spilling beer on the floor. He smiled at me while passing me a mug of beer. He asked me whether I recalled the days of studying in the faculty, holing up in some classrooms all night and over the weekend. I sure do. He asked whether I recalled having no money and instead; only have white rice and some gravy (from the chinese food stall) from the canteen for lunch. Oh yeah, I do. He also asked whether I recalled washing our cars in the NUS carpark and then use the hose to wash ourselves (like farmer spraying mud off their pigs)? I said sorry, but you got the wrong friend there since I didn't own a car during NUS.

Then I realised what was wrong earlier. My friend was already married. I attended his wedding in real life. I asked him casually; wasn't he already married? Who was then the bride? He took out his wallet (a black one) and showed me the picture of his bride and their two kids. The bride wasn't the woman he married in real life. This bride was butt ugly. It looked like she got into a fight with a bus and lost. She looked old and viscious, sort of like the witch that wanted to eat Hansel and Greta. The two kids looked happy and alright though. I opened my mouth and wanted to ask what the hell was he doing marrying such an ugly woman - where was his real-life wife? Whose kids were those?

I guess the minute I started to ask where was his real-life wife, my brain knew that it could not keep up the dream any longer. My friend opened his mouth to say something important and I woke up. It was 6.50 am.

I woke up, realising I missed some of my friends from NUS. And strangely, even some people I dislike. I wonder how they are all getting on. Are they married? Good jobs, fulfilled lives, happy? Are some wandering alone in distant lands like me? Are they still the unmitigated sluts and dumbasses they were in NUS or have they changed and now trying quietly to make ends meet just like the rest of us? Sometimes, I have this strange feeling that despite all the differences between everyone at NUS (upbringing, wealth, hypocrisy, dumbassness and sheer sluttiness), all of us initially came from the same flock of scared sheeps cowering behind a rock and unwilling to step into the thunder or lightning of life outside. Some of us were better at pretending to be cool, that's all. Maybe I will make an effort to attend some weddings when I am back in Singapore afterall. Or at least some funerals.

My Bangkok's rountine - Sex DVD sellers and pimps

I have been to Bangkok countless times since 1999 but one thing which never fails to irritate the bejesus out of me is the horde of sex dvds sellers or pimps standing on the streets of Silom and Sukhomwit plying their wares.

It is not because that there are so many of them clogging up the pedestrian traffic on the narrow Bangkokian pavements. Indeed, you meet one every 10 metres and guys often have to walk onto the main road to brave incoming traffic so as to to avoid being accosted and ambushed. It is also not because of the irritating way that they try to get your attention; tugging your sleeves and waving their porno pamphlet infront of your face as you desperately try to dodge them as if you are playing human dodgeball.

It is neither of those reasons although they are irritating enough by its own merits (or demerits). What I am most displeased about is that after so many years of visiting Bangkok, these idiots sex dvds peddlars and pimps still can't pronounce "sex". You would think after a decade of trying to sell sex in the prostitution and gay capital of Asia, you would be able to at least pronounce S-E-X. But nooooo . . . dumbass pimps in Bangkok still can't say that one important word right.

All peddlars/pimps always say the same thing when they wave their sex dvd pamphet in your face while you are walking on Silom or Sukhomwit minding your own business:

"Mister, CDs, DVDs, Sex?".

Except the Thai sex peddlars can't pronounce the X in sex so they always pronounce it as:

"Mister, CDs, DVDs, Sack?"

So everytime I walk on Silom or Sukhomwit, I get bombarded by a torrent of bad English from sex peddlars. It is as if I walked into porn kindergarten with bad English.

"Sir, massage, Sack?

"Mister, CDs, DVDs, Sack?"

"Sack very cheap here. Come in, Sir!"

"We got sack girls!"

I remember once in 2003, I lost my temper after being accosted like 5 times in 5 minutes with the same line "Mister, CDs, DVDs, Sack" and decided to take a stand for good, old fashioned Queen's English by telling off a peddlar on the spot.

Peddlar : "Mister, CDs, DVDs, Sack?"

CO : "Look, it is pronounce as Sex. S-E-X. X is the 22nd letter in the alphabet. For God's sake, use it. You should pronounce X like a S but with a shorter enunciation. You don't pronunce it like a K. You people need to stop pronuncing S-E-X as S-A-C-K. It is embarrasing for you, the girls you represent and your profession. Do you understand?

Peddlar : . . . . . . . .

CO : "Look, pronounce it after me. S-E-X? For God's sake, it is not difficult. Just try it?"

Peddlar : (Walks away muttering in Thai).

That was the first time a Thai sex peddlar actually walked away from me instead of the other way around. When I think back, it was actually quite funny. Several tourists were looking at me as if I was mad; giving English lessons to a Thai sex peddlar in the middle of Patpong street.

Sex peddlars nowadays : absolutely no pride in their profession.

My Bangkok's Routine - Movies

I am currently writing this in an internet cafe outside Ambassador's Hotel in Bangkok. I go to Bangkok about once every two months just to "soak in the civilisation". Walking the streets, see throngs of people in all their clothes, sample food of all international cuisines, witness the legions of beggars and prostitutes along Sukhomwit Road and all its small lanes and of course, watching movies. Yay.


I already said I like movies. It is so cheap going to the movies in Bangkok. It is about 120 baht (S$5.50) and you get a really wonderful seat with great leg space. Armrests are wide and comfy. Theatres are modern and in many cases, even more sophisticated than Singapore's. There are just two drawbacks. One, you are obliged to stand and pay respect to the royal anthemn which will be played before every movie. Even foreigners; so don't try to pretend to ignore the anthemn. Second, movies rarely start on time. The Thais love bombarding the audience with enough commericals to make a marketing executive weep in joy. They also like dishing out lots of movie previews which isn't too bad. I saw previews for 300 and Spiderman 3.


The reason why I am writing this enty around midnight is that I just watched three movies within 2 days and felt that I would be remiss in my duty if I do not warn the world. I watched the Banquet, the Prestige and Monster House.


I will keep this simple. Watch the Banquet only if you feel like committing suicide by headbutting the cinema wall repeatedly till you bleed to death. Because that is exactly how you feel just 10 minutes into the movie.






This is the 2nd worst big budget production from China. The worst Chinese movie is the recent movie called "The Promise" which is so bad I am not going to talk about it tonight lest I get nightmares. The Promise is so frighteningly and awesomely bad it make the Ring look like happy comedy and Ju-On/the Grudge resemble a romantic story.

The Banquet costs China millions and millions of dollars to produce and starred Zhang Ziyi, their national and most recognisable treasure since the Great Wall. Before producing the movie. Chinese director Feng Xiaogan must have had the following creative meeting with his staff:

Feng : Right, we just cheated and swindled millions of money from the Chinese Government to make another pointless movie with no plot, corny dialogue and self-indulgent costume play from the Tang Dynasty. Yay! What should we do to make the movie sell?

Smartass 1 : Uh . . . . . Cast Gong Li because she can act?

Feng : Please, Gong Li is fat. We will cast Zhang Ziyi instead since she acts in anything that will increase her standing in Hollywood such as Memoirs of a F-kng Geisha in which she just walked around slowly, smiled inanely a lot and bumped into things. Not to mention have a fetish for way older man.

Dumbass 1 : That's brilliant boss! (Massive bootlicking ensues). How about we use the opportunity to constantly zoom the camera at Zhang Ziyi's breasts, even though she has no breasts, as well as her butt, even though she has ugly, bony butt?

Feng : OMG. What an orgasmic idea! Featuring Zhang Ziyi half-naked and constantly zooming on her flat breasts and bony ass is totally going to sell! I agree!

Smartass 1 : (Hand waving in the air!) Boss! Boss! Wouldn't that turn the audience off ?

Feng : What do you know? Keep quiet. Anything with Zhang Ziyi will sell. A movie with half-naked Zhang Ziyi will sell twice harder. Heh Heh. Just look at Memoirs of Geisha. Everyone says they like it even though it is plainly crap simply because of the presence of ZZY. You know what's even better? Make the movie 2 hours long, with rambling dialogue, zero plot and constantly making Zhang Ziyi appear naked or dress in all sorts of crazy costumes with Thai prostitute-like make up. YEAH!!!!

That, Ladies and Gentlemen, is how the Banquet was decided and made. The movie is supposedly 2 hours long. Trust me, it felt like 2 days. Without food and water. And sharks circling around you. There is supposed to be a plot somewhere in the movie. Something about a prince trying to avenge the death of his father who married his son's maid who is now the prince's stepmother and couldn't decide whether to like the murderer of her husband, the prince or just usurped the throne for herself. Confused? It got much worse. Every segment in the movie is filled with meaningless scenes and the worst dialogue in the movie history. And they keep zooming up Zhang Ziyi's breasts and ass as if she is Pamela Anderson. The whole Thai audience is mystified. Why bother? If I want to see skiny ass, I would have stayed home and look at mine. I have also heard better dialogue in a cheap porn movie. Check out this "gem" of a typical dialogue in the Banquet:

Usurper Emperor (after he discovered ZZY is trying to poison him) : But I thought I am warming your heart?

Empress ZZY : My heart is already heated to the point of melting.

WHAT SORT OF CRAZY DIALOGUE IS THIS SHIT? Warming up my heart? Multiply this sort of self-indulgent dialogue for two hours and you get the idea why I feel like throwing up just 30 minutes into the movie. I walked into the theatre happy and energetic and emerged two hours later as if I am 100 hundreds old and feeling impotent.

Don't watch the Banquet. Drink rat poison if you girlfriend or boyfriend wanted to bring you to watch. Death is preferable and faster.