In the vibrant and complex cultural landscape of Malaysia, filmmaker Mickey Lai boldly explores themes of identity, connection, and societal taboos in her latest short film, WAShhh. Set against the backdrop of a Malaysia National Service Camp, the film follows the harrowing experience of a Chinese female trainee who is tasked with leading her multiracial comrades in a midnight ritual to wash stained sanitary pads. This poignant narrative sheds light on the difficulties surrounding menstruation – a topic often shrouded in silence and shame – while also reflecting on the underlying racial tensions that exist within Malaysian society.

Lai’s approach to storytelling is deeply personal; the incident depicted in WAShhh is rooted in her own traumatic experience at 18 during her National Service. The order to cleanse the stained pads was not only physically challenging but also highlighted the fractures in her friendships, pushed apart by the very constructs – education, cultural beliefs, and legalism – that were meant to unite them. Through this film, Lai invites audiences to reconsider their place and responsibilities within their communities, particularly in navigating the complexities of race and gender.

An emerging voice in filmmaking, Lai graduated with a Master of Film and TV Production from Met Film School in London. Celebrated for her ability to convey culturally rich narratives, her directorial debut, The Cloud Is Still There (2020), earned selections at prestigious festivals including Busan and Clermont-Ferrand. Her documentary short, A Worm, Whatever Will Be, Will Be (2022), also garnered acclaim, winning the Jury Award at the SeaShorts Film Festival.

With WAShhh, which premiered at the 77th Locarno Film Festival’s Pardi di Domani section and won the Pardino d’Oro for Best International Short Film, Lai continues to push boundaries and spark necessary conversations. Anuradha Kodagoda had the opportunity to interview Lai, and among other things discussed the inspirations and timing behind her impactful film.

AK: What inspired you to tell this particular story set in the Malaysia National Service Camp? Why did you choose this place to talk about the taboo subject of menstruation?

ML: I came up with the idea for WAShhh during the pandemic. At that time, the political situation in our country was quite unstable because our prime minister kept changing during the pandemic itself. Reflecting on that made me feel it was a bit ridiculous, as it seemed like kids were playing games in a serious situation. Out of this frustration and my reflection on my position in this country, I recalled an incident I experienced when I was 18 years old.

In the context of Malaysia, regardless of gender, all selected individuals must serve in the National Service. I was selected and participated in it. On the first day of our camp, our instructor welcomed us and told us to remember that we were out of the city, in a camp located in the middle of nowhere – essentially, a forest. She emphasized that we needed to take care of our hygiene, and regardless of whether one was Chinese, Malay, or Indian, we had to wash our sanitary pads.

I learned about the practice of washing sanitary pads before disposal while I was at the camp. This habit is part of the tradition among Malays in our country. However, after conducting further research, I found that not all Malays practice it. It is not based on religion or race, but rather on a cultural tradition that has been passed down through generations; it resembles a myth.

Regarding the incident, I served in the camp for around two months. One night our instructor called us out and gathered everyone. She informed us that there had been a possession incident in the camp, and the spirit expressed that our toilet was dirty because some of us hadn’t cleaned our sanitary pads before disposal. The spirit communicated this to the religious teacher, who relayed the message to our instructor. Consequently, we were all instructed to wash our stained sanitary pads and clean the toilet before midnight, or else the situation could worsen.

I wrote myself into the story as the main character, essentially taking on the role of a leader. I led my friends to the toilet, but when we arrived, no one was willing to make the first move. It was heartbreaking to see how our friendships began to suffer due to this myth, and we didn’t even know if it was true. As the leader at the time, I felt compelled to act. I went to the toilet, retrieved all the pads from the bin, checked them one by one with a few of my friends, and started cleaning.

However, during the rehearsal with my cast there was a moment that struck me deeply. One of the Malay cast members expressed that she felt bad because the beliefs she held seemed to hurt her Chinese friend in the film. At that moment, I began to reflect on my own feelings of anger. What if my Malay friend felt sad or guilty about the situation, just as my Malay cast did? Initially, I had seen the incident only through the lens of my anger and misunderstandings, but working with my cast allowed me to see the situation from multiple perspectives, making it feel more personal to me. What began as a narrative driven by political frustration and anger gradually transformed, becoming more intimate and relatable.

AK: The Chinese girl seems to be the rebellious one in the group, and as you said, the character appears to be constructed based on you. Can you elaborate on the socio-political choices that you have observed in creating this character?

ML: I’m Chinese, and in Malaysia we have Chinese, Malay, and Indian communities. My ancestors, including my father and grandfather, migrated from China to Malaysia in the past. I wouldn’t say that my background has any social advantages at this stage of my craft. I can only write about things that are very close to me. If you were to ask me to write from a Malay perspective, I could do so, but I feel it would be less authentic and less honest.

That’s why I started everything from my own experience, trying to understand the questions that I have struggled with. By making this film from a Chinese perspective, I am also attempting to answer the many questions I’ve had. There is a conflict among the Chinese, Malay, and Indian communities in our country. The Malay population is the largest and, as Malaysia is an Islamic country, the rules and laws usually reflect the majority’s culture. Consequently, we often have to adhere to the standards set by Islamic teachings.

AK: It is evident that you wanted to highlight specific cultural beliefs and practices related to menstruation in the context of Malaysia. Can you explain how conscious society is regarding these social taboos and how they deal with them in their day-to-day lives? Do you have sort of a conversation about these beliefs in your society?

ML: There is a conscious discussion regarding menstruation, but I wouldn’t say it specifically highlights Malay cultural practices. Menstruation doesn’t categorize people by race; it’s a natural process that we all experience as females. However, due to our diverse cultural backgrounds, there tends to be a tendency to hide or avoid discussing menstruation, which can be seen as a form of taboo.

In my country, there is no outright conflict between the races, but subtle racial tensions do exist. This isn’t necessarily because we have stereotypes or negative views towards our multi-racial friends; that’s not it at all. Based on my observations, I believe that whenever racial tension arises, it often results from something originating from the system, such as news released or actions taken by authorities.

For example, if a politician makes a statement targeting a particular racial group, that can trigger tension and lead to people developing stereotypes against one another. It’s often the case that when the system oppresses one race or group, those feelings of oppression can manifest in how individuals treat each other within different races.

In my film, for instance, nothing happens until the teacher investigates and tries to determine who among the girls – Malay, Chinese, or Indian – didn’t wash their sanitary pads. This action creates suspicion among the girls, leading them to question one another, such as, “Oh, the Chinese girl must be the one who didn’t wash it.” I have a strong feeling that this kind of dynamic always occurs in our country.

AK: It is an important choice that you have made to shoot the film in black and white to avoid diluting its content, and I find that this artistic decision is very feminine. Can you talk about this cinematic choice?

ML: We decided to use black and white from the very beginning for several reasons. The primary reason was our understanding that the color red and blood can be very shocking elements in the film. If we shot it in color, it could come off as too graphic. So we asked ourselves, is that what we want? Is that what I envision? No, because I wanted to deliver the story from a human perspective.

I always focus on the characters and try to humanize the situation. I wanted the audience to focus more on the dynamics between the characters rather than on the blood. We didn’t feel the need to show color since the audience already knows what blood looks like.

Another reason for the black-and-white choice is the theme of racial conflict. I aimed to create a sense of equality among the characters, represented by the black-and-white aesthetic. No one race is more prominent than the others. Friendship is about the personal connection we have, not about ethnicity.

Additionally, regarding cinematic choices, I should also mention the filming technique we used for the toilet scene, which involves an argument that continues until the protagonist finishes washing everything clean. This scene is captured in one long take.

From the start of the argument to the end of the scene, it’s all done in a single continuous shot. We follow each protagonist through their actions in that long take, which lasts about 24 minutes. We give the Chinese character three takes, the Malay character three takes, and the Indian character three takes. During the editing stage, we merge these performances together.

The reason for this approach is that all the cast members in our film are actually non-professional actors. We rehearsed shot by shot, but when I tried to piece the shots together in editing, it felt inauthentic, especially regarding the characters’ emotions. Thus, we decided to let the protagonists and the actresses flow and do whatever they wanted in the toilet scene. The filming style was more about following the character naturally, which is why we used the one-shot technique.

AK: How is the experience in Locarno?

ML: It’s my first time here, and personally, I found it to be eye-opening. The storytelling is deeply rooted in culture, and sharing this with audiences, especially those from the West, is interesting. Some may not fully understand the context, but I discovered that it’s amazing how people from both the West and the East can connect with the story on an emotional level. Many told me they could feel for the character and the emotions conveyed, even without understanding the context completely.

I really enjoyed learning more about how they perceive the film. Although they might not grasp every detail, most viewers sensed that oppression is a universal experience happening worldwide. They felt empathy for the character and recognized that the issues depicted are not unique to Malaysia; oppression occurs everywhere. I completely accept that some viewers may not understand the film in its entirety.

AK: What would be your next steps with the film and your new projects?

ML: As for the short films, I have a few ready to be shot, but my main focus right now is writing my first feature. In Malaysia, censorship is significant, especially when trying to create a film that addresses factual realities or truths, like the incident I experienced that inspired my short film. However, there is pressure regarding this work, as the authorities may perceive my intentions as trying to convey negative values regarding Islamic teachings or affect how people view Islam and other particular religions or races.

That was not my intention at all. There have been cases in Malaysia, and similar issues are still happening today. The freedom of expression is greatly challenged in our part of the world, which makes filmmaking difficult. Nevertheless, as artists, this is our only way forward.

(c) Image copyright: Locarno Film Festival