THE STORY – A precocious 7-year-old girl navigates her parents’ separation in 1994 Singapore.
THE CAST – Ong Xuan Jing, Sydney Wong, Doreen Toh, James Seah, & Carrie Wong
THE TEAM – Ang Geck Geck Priscilla (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 99 Minutes
In Ang Geck Geck Priscilla’s feature film debut, “Ah Girl,” the worlds of two young children turn upside down when asked one question. Would they prefer to live with their mother or their father? Trying to make sense of an unimaginable separation, seven-year-old Ah Girl (Ong Xuan Jing) and her five-year-old sister Ah Tian (Sydney Wong) challenge what it means to be an adult. Ah Girl’s curious, wishful perspective becomes our emotional anchor, driving the story’s momentum through her uncertainty towards the future. The film shows a household that crumbles over a short period of time, and a thematic point that dwindles along with it. What surfaces is an undeveloped family portrait that feels rough around the edges, muddling a new creative voice at the center.
Set in 1990s Singapore, Ah Girl’s quirky personality shines through a seemingly ordinary childhood, with a hint of defiance. She tries to achieve good grades, has a crush on a classmate, and starts a chewing gum business at school. Her rebellious spirit and wild imagination speak to a boldly outspoken character. Ah Girl uses this boldness in conversation with her separated parents, whose self-centered lifestyles have disrupted the family routine. Ah Girl’s father (James Seah) works nights and casually dates, while her mother (Carrie Wong) tries to make amends on weekends. All the while, Ah Girl’s well-intentioned grandmother (Doreen Toh) suffers silently in the background. Through the lens of childhood innocence, the film explores coming of age during an especially vulnerable time. Taking on adult-like responsibilities at seven years old, Ah Girl spends less time on the playground and more time navigating her parents’ petty behavior, while also looking after her younger sister.
To immerse the audience in Ah Girl’s point of view, the film underplays getting to the heart of why her parents are separating. Ang Geck Geck Priscilla’s direction explores the conflict through Ah Girl’s experience. The camera moves with a disorienting energy, interspersed with some oddly framed angles and surreal dream sequences. The surreal moments convey Ah Girl’s imagined joy amid her family conflict, serving as a creative visual expression of herself. There’s a vintage home-video quality to how the scenes come together, vaguely recalling fragmented childhood memories and not necessarily remembering all the details. Through subtly crafted costumes and production design, the film also recreates 1990s Singapore. However, some of the textured crafts feel at odds with the over-polished cinematography, making the film resemble a television commercial at times.
“Ah Girl” also fluctuates with narrative momentum. The story unfolds in a stop-and-go structure that ultimately undercuts the potential for a deeper character study. While the film excels at capturing the family’s day-to-day behaviors, it dedicates too little time to unpacking the brewing tension and developing the characters’ internal worlds. The film approaches sensitive subject matter with stilted writing, and tends to focus heavily on literal action without leaning more into the subtext underneath. Some melodramatic storytelling, while it certainly evokes strong emotions, also makes for overtly manipulative scenes and on-the-nose dialogue.
Despite these shortcomings, Ah Girl stands out as an intriguing character to anchor the story. She confidently challenges the infallibility of adults, marking a key shift from childhood naiveté to independence and scrutiny about her surroundings. She begins to test her parents’ boundaries and notices hypocrisies along the way, as echoed in her resonant line, “Adults are all cheaters and liars.” In more perceptive hands, her character could have been portrayed with more introspection and nuance. And yet, however stilted the writing, there’s something liberating about how boldly she expresses her rebellious spirit through such uninhibited energy. Ah Girl’s relationship with her sister also strikes a heartfelt chord, as the siblings are torn between homes and faced with the threat of being separated for an unknown period of time.
The film effectively maintains a child’s perspective throughout, intentionally leaving Ah Girl in the dark about her parents’ decisions. The film places us directly into the experience of a child caught in the middle of family conflict, pushed to imagine her own idyllic world. However, foundational character development gets lost in the fragmented memories and abstract dream scenarios, leading to an underwhelming conclusion. Some compelling material surfaces along the way, especially Ah Girl reclaiming her name from the English version (Eileen) to a Singaporean one (Swee Swee) and wanting to embrace her roots. Ah Girl and her sister occasionally reflect on their identities and a shared sense of isolation, stressed further by the threat of separation. Such moments are glossed over, begging for more intentional and focused exploration. Ultimately, “Ah Girl” settles into a character study that wrestles between melodramatic and restrained, falling short of making a cohesive mark.
