Category Archives: English

The question is:
How not to fall in love with this film?

From its spellbinding story that solely focuses on the subject of romance itself, we are taken to the world of Hiroshima in 1950s, fresh from its still-open wound due to the unapologetic bombing.
Such a captivating backdrop would deem unthinkable by any conventional norms of making a regular love story, and in fact, it only suits for the making of documentary on world-peace.

This is when Alain Resnais does his playful duty at its best.

Transforming a work of art that was initially conceived as a documentary and turning it into a fictional narrative drama would be a no easy feat. The gritty look of real life is hard to justify to match the aloof look of drama, yet, as magic as the film itself, the two are juxtaposed nicely so as to give the romance theme a stronger, more harsh look, yet it is still based on the lovelorn story of unrequited relationship.

Subtle and demanding our full attention, the film follows the story of a French actress who embarks on a brief affair with a Japanese architect during filming of her latest film in Hiroshima. Both are happily married with their own spouses, yet as the time draws near for the woman’s flight to return to her native land, the lovebirds have to face that one question clouding over their heads: who’s to stay and who’s to leave?

After the anonymosity of name and time, never before such a simple, one word answer, would be so captivating.

Why do we love this film?

Because “… you have such an abundance desire to love“.

… you won’t be able to enjoy and accept the film wholeheartedly.

Put the mild controversy on historical content aside, Ridley Scott gives us an important lesson: how to make a satisfying epic?

Simply by making the epic as something to enrich the mind, without forgetting to create a crisp cinematography look that will enthrall us to our seats. And by enriching the mind, the epic needs to tackle something as sensitive as religious matters and handle the subject in such a way that it tries to please a wide range of people.

The result will inescapably be something considered as ‘politically-correct’, but for once, in the midst of big-bang epic that dwells on glorifying gory scenes, Kingdom of Heaven leaves us believing, once again, that peace is as sacred as religion itself. An overrated theme as it may be, but peacefulness, according to Scott, goes beyond understandings of religions.

And this is what the film manages to capture.

Yet, perhaps Orlando Bloom‘s blundered performance that fails to carry the film on his shoulder may disrupt the intensity of the film, and we choose to rely on the strong ensemble of supporting cast. Set aside this unfortunate fact, then Scott’s bait for Oscar next year may be considered as one of his under-appreciated works, following the trail of Matchstick Men and others.

For once, being polite seems to be a distance in the increasingly brainless crowd.

fatigue.
tired.
exhausted.
bloated, in a certain way.

some common symptoms occur when a journey has been completed, and if it is film-related, then there’ll be no better cure than basking ourselves in watching any films which are not part of a film festival.

as much as rejuvenation is needed, i cannot help noting that there are quite a number of ‘smaller’ scale film-festivals around at the moment, exactly entailing siffest.
i know that getting a slot time for exhibiting films under an umbrella of a film festival is quite a challenging task here in singapore, for the insufficient number of cinema screens available to accomodate such events.
but then, dear organizers, if you really wanted your intended niche-market audience to attend the festivals, then give us a little time to catch our breath. it doesn’t take long to settle ourselves, a mere week or two will do.

and isn’t it time to indulge in summer blockbusters?

coming soon! meanwhile, i settled myself with the following selections below, which may not be a total redemption of self-fulfillment, instead, some of them turn out to be a burder. let’s see …

on tentang dia:

i can’t believe that my intelligence was insulted. enough said.

on the interpreter:

if it’s meant to be an old-fashioned, mild hollywood political thriller, then it serves its purpose well. although to achieve that particular intention, sydney pollack certainly wasted a lot of resources, particularly the set itself.

on forgotten silver (from new zealand film festival):

i wish i had not known earlier about the surprise of the film! peter jackson is one lunatic film-maker who always has fun in making all of his films.

on two cars, one night (from new zealand film festival):

the almost-impossibly gorgeous black-and-white cinematography done in quick-cut editing does the film’s Academy Award nomination more than a justice. its 11-minute duration seems to short for, ahem, a short film worth repeated viewings.

on in my father’s den (from new zealand film festival):

what started as seemingly a promo-material for ‘visit new zealand campaign’ or the likes of it, thanks to the country’s breathtaking scenery perfectly captured in the film, turned out to be a powerful drama with smart plot twists that makes the audience glued to the seat until the credit ends.
a nuanced film with a right dose of emotional punches shown in the actors’ performances, the film carried us deeper into examining a family’s life that leaves us thinking, this is not just another dsyfunctional families as shown in any other films.

the only one that is worth watching for the past week.

(Siffest will definitely return for its 19th year, and beyond!)

And with Tropical Malady, I heartily close another chapter of the annual film-fest pilgrimage.

Surely I wish for a bang to end my journey with, not with a bewilderment and puzzlement over watching a gay-themed flick turning into a fable where real animals do talk like human beings (and couldn’t stop thinking how one part of the film is actually going to be a waste).

But then, not every journey is a fulfilling one, or a displeasant one.

It is best to think that once a journey is completed, then we feel rich with another added experience, and like it or not, some knowledge.

Over films.
Over life.
Over people.

And over the fact that …

I just need to go abroad this time to properly enjoy a film festival!

😉

(Siffest, when it comes towards its end, pretty much has nothing left to offer. Good ones are shown in the beginning, so unless you’ve got yourself a ticket to watch the Closing Film, it’s very seldom the joy will spark in the last 2-3 days.)

But worry not, the socializing process still continues.

I once wrote here on how Shaw Towers building comes to live during the Film Fest, resulting in a good business for the shops and stalls scattered around there.
When it comes to food stalls, of course this translates to getting hard time finding a seat to have our meals, for most of them are taken by festival-goers who decide to grab a bite before or after screenings.

Such a thing really tested our patience, until we manage to get a seat, be seated and begin talking to a stranger sitting in front of you whom you can be assured that she has her meal there because she’s about to catch a screening.

We don’t even have to mention our names, occupation or other silly and unnecessary details for what bonds us together is the same passion towards basking ourselves in a festive glory.
Raving and cursing about the same object of affection has never been fruitful, if you do it with other people who share this same liking.

But then, I do not have anyone to share my disappointment towards Bow Barracks Forever, an ambitious project that works like a mediocre public-service announcement.

Dwelling on the story about diminishing traces of Anglo-Indian heritage in Calcutta, the film revolves around the stories of supposedly several different characters leading different kinds of lives.
Why only ‘supposedly’?
Because what we see is the same harsh life that do not unite the characters, but distract them to be on their own … film?!
That’s more like it.

Surely Anjay Dutt has put an effort in executing the story, turning it into a film, directing or composing the ensemble cast, but does it show enough heart? Hardly. The film only manages to scratch the surface of a deep topic on minority lives, distancing us from getting to the core of the problem. It may only be noted as being different from other typical Bollywood films, but then, we’ve seen quite a number of that in the annual Indian Film Festival.

The barracks may be something worth fighting for, but not on films.

(Siffest has often proved itself to be a festival of surprises, and in terms of films, that refers to many things that may go beyond expectation of any expected feeling. Confused? Read on!)

One of the advantages of attending screenings during a film festival is that a rare chance of meeting creative minds behind a film, be them directors, actors, producers, screenwriters or cinematographers. The latter may apply if they carry household names like Christopher Doyle or Anne V. Coates, for example.

How do you feel when you get to see those remarkably talented people in the screening of their films that we’re about to see?
Anxious?
Curious?
Surprised?
Or simply indifferent?

Whatever our feeling that may reflect our perception towards the film itself, be thankful for this rare chance we may not likely often encounter in the first place. And wouldn’t it be cool if the director himself said something like,

“Relax. If you fall asleep during the film, please do so!”

Oh! Can anything get any greater than that?

So I salute you, Hou Hsiao Hsien.

First, for being what you are, a respected, honored director. May your recent The Best of Times will bring its best at Cannes this year.

Second, for being humble and honest in seeing your own works objectively. You even persuaded us to be ourselves on how to treat your film, Cafe Lumiere.

And I did what you had, erm, suggested, Maestro.

I fell asleep throughout the entire film.

No, no, no. Of course not the entire per se, but apparently, closing your senses in some parts of the film means losing the core essence of the film. So, no matter that I managed to wake up and tried to decipher the series of images appearing on the screen, I lost the main thread of the story.

And so I lost the film.

Too bad.

But then, it’s worth a second viewing. 😉

(Siffest has its own ability to lure everyone, or rather, some serious film-afficionado like me, to cash out their piggybanks in this annual pilgrimage. Hey, haven’t we heard this before? Oh c’mon, I can’t think of any “proper” introduction).

Or rather, juggling your work and doing something that has become your main source of feeling alive has never been easy. That leads to having tremenduous lack of time to indulge in our interests, and in this case, doing breadwinning work, watching films and review them has surely taken up most of my time.

Sacrifice is Freakingly Fabulous! That’s how SIFF should stand for.

And for the faithful followers of this so-called journey, you may notice how I’d to sacrifice some confirmed populist films on the list of the fest this year.

Resting time may be substituted, financial constraints can be solved by worshipping loan shark, but meeting your old friends and current ones who are not into films crazily like us is something worth doing, eventhough *deep sigh* we may have to be taken aback when people say something like,

“Hey, I love Garin Nugroho’s Rindu Kami Pada-Mu!”
“Really? I missed that :(“

But gladly, despite the hectic social hopping here and there, I decided not to miss another fabulous film which is more than qualified to be considered as another hidden treasure in the fest.
I was blown away, literally hopeful in fact, to the Far Side of the Moon.

So much so that it never fails to drift my attention away despite its cosmic subject playfully treated to become comical, yet touching.
On top of that, in a rare achievement of artistry, Robert Lepage manages to spread his artistic comandeering evenly, making the film a pleasant journey of viewing without any hints of watching a work of egoism.

As a director, he turns this film into one imaginative film that still sets its foot deep down to the earth.

As a screenwriter, he turns his own play into a series of quirky and witty utterances that invite genuine laughter.

As an actor, he slips into the dual roles easily, believing contrast characters among the sibling.

As a moviegoer myself, this is a film worth repeated viewings which deserve greater number of audience.

However, the same feeling is hardly the same as when I went to catch a documentary flick on Monday nite.
Common assumption sets that the fest is the best time when we can cram as many genres as possible. Therefore, a fest will not be complete without diversity of genres, and how can one resist new emergences of watchable documentaries?

But this time, as the title itself suggests, I was kidnapped by the terror haunting me when I watched Guerrilla: The Taking of Patty Hearst.

Arguably one of the most controversial kidnappings in the ’70s happening at the height of mass hysteria over Vietnam war that leads to rebellious movements from some underground organizations, which contrasted with the lives of the rich, the film presents the fact as is, without taking bravery on making its own opinion.

Whereas such action might be seen as an objective move, the film itself becomes lack of emotional attachment to the audience. Robert Stone presents the film in a straight-forward narrative structure, outlining the story in an organized manner of daily-come-weekly-come-monthly basis, as if to make us feel like observing the whole events as news, and nothing more than that.

Yet, the constructed structure takes its blow when the film abrupts its ending by presenting a footage of Patty Hearst a few years later transforming herself as a celebrity. As if to make an ironic comparison to her younger days being with the the Symbionese Liberation Army (that infamous SLA), the footage does not give any weight to the story as it blatantly is presented there for the sake of continuation of the story, to make it as chronological as possible.

And chronologically, this festival journey should continue, despite hiccups and bumpy roads here and there.

(Siffest means that we won’t hear usual buzz of mobile’s ringtones like what we may usually experience in any other cinemas for any other screenings. Thanks to who? Us. Audience. C’mon, give a credit to ourselves, shall we?)

Indeed, so niche the market for Siffest is that we tend to see the same people patronizing Shaw Towers’ cinemas over and over again. Considering that these cinephiles would be willing to spend their piggy bank savings to lure themselves into film-indulgence session like this, chances are that we may see them again in any other festivals, be it the country-themed festivals in Singapore, or even within region. After all, my Bangkok Film Festival journey that I did a few months back wouldn’t be fruitful had Zefri been not around.

Yet, tonight I missed my chance to politely scrutinize the faces of audience, thanks to my stressed-out day I had had at work earlier. This means that I would crave for a nice, not necessarily healthy dinner, and that would take quite significant amount of time as a dinner would not be complete without chatterings with people that you care for.

But then, this is not Psycho or any Hitchcock’s films where you can’t afford losing the first few minutes. The film that slightly suffered from my unapologetic lateness happens to be a straight-forward drama from Argentina, and it’s about one Live-In Maid in Buenos Aires.

Now, we’ve often decided to watch a film because of its actor in the film, right?

Exactly. The main reason why the film got selected in my list, not to mention that I bought the ticket at a very last minute, was simply because of one name: Norma Aleandro.

I fell in love with her immediately after seeing her performance in Son of the Bride as an amnesiac woman who was introduced to experience love at first sight again to her husband of 40 years. Looking at her tiny figure in that film, I was taken by surprise to see her voluptuous hair style that transformed her as a demanding matriarch at the brink of bankruptcy in Live-In Maid. She dominates every scene she is in with her sharp facial expression that does not require any words to tell what her character is thinking of.

Her uncanny portrayal of a woman basking in good old days of her height to be crashed with current harsh reality of aging life seems to steal the spotlight from the main actress herself who carries the title role, Norma Argentina as Dora, the maid. Even if Argentina has to share the screentime equally with the more popular Aleandro, yet together they form a duet of class-act performance that elevates the already smart script to be a film so enjoyable, that eclipses the disturbing rough look of digital format the film reels in.

And now, if only I could’ve finished my dinner any sooner …

(Siffest is the time when you’ve got to make sacrifice of your social life. Provided that your cliques are not film-buff like you. But if they are? Be prepared to get bored! You see them every day, you bump into them on every screenings, c’est la vie.)

Seriously I don’t feel like updating today, for some reason that is non-SIFFest related.

So, you notice that my shoutmix box is gone, and there was my brief history of life. But come to think of it, change is good, change is refreshing, so I welcome shouthuns, thanks to the rotten, outdated blog of my housemate.

Anyway, back to business.

There will come a day during your journey when you can’t help feeling a little bit exhausted, yet the quest has to go on, simply because we already paid a good fortune for it.
Or it could be that you’re just too tired after a day’s work, and this one goes out to 9-to-6 desk-bound office slave who happens to be cinephiles, like me. We just can’t help yawning, and no matter how good the film is, tiredness remains. Add the breezing, comforting sound of air conditioner and darkened hall of cinema, chances of us dozing off is still high.

There’s no film to blame, for the film like Whisky deserves more attention from audience, worldwide perhaps.

After all, the film does its reminiscence of human behavior at its best. You see, some of us here might lead a life with usual, boring routine, like we go to work in the morning, waiting for the owner of the factory to open the door, do routine check among employees, go home at night to find an empty bed. Or worse, empty house.
Throw in a surprise visit of our relatives whom we haven’t seen for quite some time, then we’ve got the urge to present the best in us, no matter how we’ve got to create fakeness in the life we’ve comfortably had.

The result? Unexpectedly subtle.

Through the silence, we can feel the two main characters’ chemistry that is about to burst anytime. Their understanding, or rather misunderstanding, is so beautifully constructed through their detailed, delicate gesture that takes our utmost concentration to see.
They might not do much, but what is not spoken reveals much of their longingness and loneliness.

And what is not spoken tells me that I should get enough of proper rest, so as to not fall asleep during the screening again.

(Siffest means abundance of hidden treasure awaiting to be discovered upon going to the cinemas and watch them yourself. Post-watching feelings, which can range from being satisfied to dumbfounded, is subject to our own’s perception, and pretty much our current state of mind.)
And to think that Siffest never attempts to be glossy and glitzy is pretty much justified by this conversation:

Jer : “Sorry for not returning your call last time. What’s up?”
Nov : “Huh? When?”
J : “Think it was Saturday lor …”
N : “Ooohhh! Oh! Yes, yes! It was over anyway. Got this extra ticket for one screening last Saturday. Eastern Sugar.”
J : “Aiyah, I couldn’t make it anyway. I’m not gonna watch any films in Siffest this year.”
N : (puzzled) “Whhhyyyy?”
J : “The film selections are sucks, man! What a crap! Don’t feel like watching any. Not as good as last year’s one, rite?”
N : “Eerrr .. Not really, though. You’ve got to keep on digging to find out the good ones.” *grin*
J : “Haiyah, dunno leh. How’s the attendance, not as many as last year’s, rite?”
N : “Surprisingly some shows are still sold-out, mah. Just now also.” (gue tau Bahasa Inggris gue ancur dah dari 5 taun yang lalu, stralah!)
J : “…”
N : “…”

There goes Jeremy, another F-buddy of mine who bid his much-regretted goodbye at this year’s fest.
And he’s not the only one.
I myself couldn’t stop questioning this year’s fest committee over their choices of films. As if adding salt to the wound, the rise of the ticket price heightened the curiosity on the matter.

However, at the end of the day, film fest experience is like an adventure to an uncharted territory. You might be taken aback at what the map shows you for its full of uncertainties. Surely Godard is the master of avant-garde cinema, but is he still up to the hype? Garin Nugroho goes mainstream this time, is it any good?
Dare to make choices, that’s the key to lure yourself into the free-falling experience of film festival.
You may dismiss Mike Figgis’s Hotel last time, or you may joy over Since Otar Left, perhaps. Whatever your mixed-feelings tells you, you will not just experience either side of emotional state upon completing your whole journey.

It might be too early to tell, but tonight, I had the best of both extremes.

Let’s start from the low-side, being dumbfounded and puzzled in confusion, thanks to Primer.

The first glance of its sephia-tone look revokes the memory of watching 70’s B-grade thriller, yet the premise turns in an unexpected way. The film tells about two engineers who work on (something) that will enable (the thing) to achieve (another thing).
The thing, that’s something I wasn’t able to figure out.

Yet, for a smart, slick thriller that is filled with too many scientific jargons, it is surprising to see how the film manages to keep its audience glued to the seat from the beginning to the very end. One or two old folks walked out, but that’s about it, and the rest of the audience, sadly that includes me, tried too hard to decipher the content of the film. Yet, in the end, I could only remember the look of the film, but nothing much. And that’s too much for an indie flick generating good buzz anywhere.

There’s nothing wrong with good buzz, though. Certainly the other film is worth every penny of good buzz it has currently enjoyed, and the enjoyment of this film (and in this film) is surely something that the whole audience will flock to see it over and over again.

Ladies and gentleman, the first film from the fest worth all the praises: Millions.

Imagine a colorful film filled with sharp-cutting editing, resulting in rich images similar to those you usually find in pop-up books.

Imagine a story drawn from the innocent child’s point of view, told with sincerity and honesty at their fullest.

Imagine a fairytale where imaginary characters come true in real life.

Imagine that being good in cynical world is still possible and rewarding.

And imagine.

The wholesome cuteness is a brain result from the direction of Danny Boyle who did, ahem, Trainspotting and 28 Days Later …, and the magical writing of Frank Cottrell Boyce who penned, ahem, 24 Hour Party People.

No matter how imaginative Millions might be, its charm appeals widely and strikes us, adults, who can’t help but crying in joyful over the lost innocence we have left long time ago.

Imagine, a film that leaves you feeling rich, as rich as Millions itself.

Imagine that such a treasured grace is found here in the dreary land of SIFFest.

(Siffest means perfection, where lateness in the screening time does not happen and abrupt electrical failure is a big no-no during the screening.)

Oh really?

Tonite marked the rare occurence of sudden interruption due to the technical failure that happened exactly in the middle of the screening. Whereas such disturbance usually takes place in the beginning, luckily this jolt did not interrupt our viewing digestion.

You know exactly if this kind of thing is felt, then the film is surely something special to talk about.

Or perhaps we should personify this film as it carries the name that speaks of beauty and fragility.

Her name is Yasmin.

She is a Pakistani (Paki) woman, living a working-class life in UK whose self-esteem life was shaken to the core due to the unfortunate event of 9’11”. Her family is torn apart, her shelter of love life shatters, her breadwinning job dismisses her, and she begins questioning the faith she believes in.

So much of paranoia is shown vividly throughout the entire film, some might be a good dose of humor, at times turning this film to a dark comedy territory.
Yet, most of the time, the film speaks to the hearts of minorities everywhere, what it’s like to be seen and treated differently while what you’ve got, is only yourself to stand up tall and straight.

Simon Beaufoy‘s tight script allows the film to move flawlessly for us to see what it’s like to be a part of society being the object of hatred from the bigger cliques.
Kenneth Glenaan‘s marvellous direction swifts nicely for us to feel like being inside the film.
And carrying the titular role, Archie Panjabi couldn’t be more believable in portraying her well-drawn character.

The way she whisks her husband to obey her.

The way she surrenders to reality.

The way she laughs at hedonism.

Finally, a film that is worth standing ovation for its bravery and independent spirit in showing the real world as it is.

But, what about that failure disruption?

Well, what failure disruption?

(Siffest is annual pilgrimage for film-enthusiasts in Singapore where suddenly Shaw Towers building feels alive, thanks to the flock of people who seem to have lack of choices except to roam around the almost-dead building while waiting for their screenings.)

It may be best to get yourself feeling full, but not bloated, after taking lunch, for it helps you survive through the afternoon-session of film screenings, be them for 2 pm or 4 pm show.

In fact, heavy lunch will not knock you down to sleep, you’ve got enough energy to sustain and to keep you awake throughout art-y flicks which are initially made solely based on ideas, without any intention for the makers to put themselves in audience’s shoes. Any audience intended, and that means their own group of niche market.

Yet, there is still quite a number of audience who are willing to take the risk of bracing themselves in fronting these self-ego work of arts. The ocean of 12 people in Singapore History Museum this afternoon who gathered to see Faozan Rizal‘s labor of love film, Aries, is the pool of people with different background united in the spirit of Zen: peacefulness.

Which translates nicely into dozing off.

Whether these audience had a big lunch like what I had had is beyond my knowledge, but their ability to stay throughout the real surrealist film amazed me, eventhough it had to be paid off with missing a few scenes, thanks to the sleep.

On the other hand, having too much of your meal for dinner did not serve well if you watch Notre Musique afterwards. The latest from one of the icons in French New-Wave movement, Jean-Luc Godard, the film starts with horrifying images of living in the world as one helluva hell on earth. Move forward, we begin to unravel the film as interrogative proclamation on bridging endless philosophic question of life/death, hell/heaven, and subtly, freedom/restriction.

Gone was the signatural off-beat and hip style of Godard, certainly the major reason among most of the audience why they chose to attend this screening instead of more popular Tarnation. Depending on how one sees this part-documentary, part-narrative film, I find Godard sings his film a little off-key, and the false note might be a little too much for some audience who decided to walk out when the film has not even reached its half point.

Just like one’s feeling after eating what he craves for, so much of the anticipation yet you don’t get enough satisfaction.

(Siffest stands for Singapore International Film Festival which turns 18 this year. A little above being under-age, but can’t be considered mature enough. Nice!)

This year supposed to be my, what, fifth or sixth year of experiencing Siffest? Yet there’s one thing keeps being repeated every year and you may accuse me of being ignorant or never learned from the past mistake:

extra rest or enough sleep for the next day’s 11 am show.

Because staying up late the night before would only result in waking up late the next day, and you’ve got to rush to the inaccessible Shaw Towers which takes about 30-45 minutes to reach from your place of stay. Add the mulling of Aki’s inability to find anyone up to the extra ticket he had, an anxiety over being late, the unforgivably dark cinema hall of Jade 2 that made us have to head almost blindly in searching for our seats, my first film of the fest this year turned out to be quite a mediocre, not as bad as last year’s bumpy start of Little Men though, if we talk about ‘watchable’.

Eastern Sugar (Szezon), the entry from Hungary, is being placed under time schedule that surely left its intended audience scratching their heads. An R21 (only 21 years old and above are permitted) film shown at the hour when most adults are still on the bed having hangover from the euphoria of Friday nite’s out? And the question is justified by the presence of its impossibly gorgeous cast of actors that seem to be taken out directly from any porn films.
Yet, those quality prevail in making people still turn their head and glued to the film until the end, although the film may have nothing much to boast about, except the overtly done homo-erotic tones which overlaps its half-baked story.

On the other hand, a film with quite an apparent corny title like When Beckham Met Owen made a delightful passing time activity.
Shot in digital format, the film presents an unpolished look of suburban life in Hong Kong, and this time it centers around rite passage of manhood from two school boys who embark on the quest of figuring out their sexual orientation, effortlessly.
Throw in the usual element of a girl in between the two, harsh life of lower-middle class neighborhood, the film has its charms as shown through many inside jokes that never fail to crack the audiences up. Too many of the jokes may seem to fill in the screntime of the film, leaving a forgettable abrupt ending that does not serve to be in synch with the comic potential of the film.

Still a great start after all, a fabulous encounter with an old friend who is truly a survivor of the region’s film festivals, and he’s none other than Zefri, my F-buddy whom I’m sure we’ll get to see each other more often the next days onwards.

That’s just one, more to come.