Fresh News

Recently there was a rumor that the relationship between Sok Somavatey and her rich boyfriend is fragile becasue they are rarely seen to be together like before.

One of her co-workers told Angkor Tom magazine that Vatey’s boyfriend usually tended to spend time taking her to work, going to the provinces for her show, and having dinner with her at the restaurants in the evening. But, lately people never see her boyfriend escort her.

To clear this rumor, Vatey told Angkor Tom that she and her boyfriend are very busy that they don’t have time to meet each other. She also confirmed that her relationship with her boyfriend is still strong.

To see more pictures of Somavatey, you can visit her facebook.

Documentary screening at the French Cultural Centre celebrates the high-wire walk between New York’s Twin Towers in 1974, and the attitude that it takes to do it

By Dianne Janes

AFTER watching James Marsh’s 2008 Oscar-winning documentary Man on Wire, you may well think, as I did, “What the hell have I been doing with my life?”

The subject of the film, French tight-rope walker Philippe Petit, embraces his life and art with an infectious joie de vivre that inspires the viewer to get off the couch and do something a little unexpected.


Petit expresses a truly French artistic sensibility, and a desire to live each day to its fullest.

“To me, it’s really so simple, that life should be lived on the edge”, he says.

“You have to exercise rebellion. To refuse to tape yourself to the rules; to refuse your own success; to refuse to repeat yourself; to see every day, every year, every idea as a true challenge.

“Then you will live your life on the tightrope.”

Fortunately for us, the audience, many of his early tightrope exploits were filmed and photographed, providing a window into his life and the events that led up to his famed 1974 World Trade Center high-wire walk that has been described as “The artistic crime of the century”.

In 1971 Petit began his tight-rope act with an illegal stunt between the spires high above the Notre Dame Cathedral.

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Sky-high free spirit: Phillipe Petit. PHOTO SUPPLIED
Petit’s merry band of helpers was formed with girlfriend Annie Allix devoting herself to his efforts, along with long-time friend Jean-Louis Blondeau.
The team strung wires between trees, measuring distances, building scale models and simulating wind conditions so the artist could practice his act every day.


With a desire to try bigger and better things, their next stunt was a wire walk between the pylons of Sydney Harbour Bridge, which stopped traffic and caused chaos downtown.

Petit’s discovered his greatest ambition one day reading the newspaper, when he spotted a story announcing the construction of the World Trade Center towers in New York.

It would take some years for the buildings to be completed, and for Petit and his team to meticulously plan the technical aspects of such a dangerous walk.

Man on Wire goes into some detail looking at all the requirements of a tight-rope walk some 450 metres above the ground, from cabling and rigging to coping with the sway of the buildings.

The tight-rope act was of course illegal, although dodging security guards and police was part of the whole adventure.

The film captures the anticipation leading up to the event, as well as the tension and in-fighting among Petit’s group. Some of his helpers are shocked at seeing the height of the twin towers and, realising the danger, pull out.

Director James Marsh has tracked down everybody involved from Petit’s closest associates to the NYPD officer who eventually charged Petit when he came down, noting on his arrest sheet the criminal activity of “Man on Wire”.

(The coverage and public appreciation of Petit’s act resulted in all formal charges being dropped. The court did, however, sentence Petit to perform a show for the children of New York, which he transformed into another high-wire walk, in Central Park above Belvedere Lake (now Turtle Pond).

The film’s images are amazing, with views from all around and above the vertiginous World Trade Center, looking over the city.

The young, 25-year-old Petit is passionate about freedom of walking – and dancing – on a tightrope, balancing fear and joy simultaneously.
The film conveys the huge, life-threatening risk Petit took.

The final walk is more like a form of visual poetry than a mere stunt or acrobatic exercise, as Petit seems at one with the air, the sky and his beloved buildings.

Man on Wire screens as part of the French Cultural Centre’s September programme looking at architecture.

It is an unusual choice, as the film itself is not ostensibly about the physical structures of the twin towers or their design.

Yet as Petit steps out onto his wire, the film also conveys bravery and heroism, and inspiration itself; it celebrates the power of a creative vision, both as it is embodied in the design of the massive towers and also in the work of Petit and his team.

The shadow of September 11, 2001, when the towers were destroyed by terrorists, hangs over the film but is not discussed.

I would have appreciated a comment from the team as to how they felt watching the event, and what it meant to them. After all, for most of the people involved, Petit’s World Trade Center tightrope walk was the most important thing to happen in their life.

Sometimes buildings mean more to people than just a place to live and work. Petit’s walk is credited with bringing the then rather unpopular Twin Towers attention and even affection.

Man on Wire also adds another layer of meaning to the loss of the towers. Somewhere buried in the ash and the dust are the memories belonging to a group of people who were there on a fateful day in 1974 when one man floated and danced above the city.

Man on Wire screens with English subtitles on Saturday, September 26, at 7pm at the French Cultural Centre.

Cambodia (1992 – present)

Preap Sovath (ព្រាប​ សុវត្តិ) born February 27, 1972, in Kandal, Cambodia, is Cambodia/Khmer pop singer. Sovath started his singing career in 1992. He records for Rasmey Hang Meas (RHM), generally regarded as Cambodia’s most progressive recording label. Apart from being a singer, Preap Sovath is also an actor, restaurant owner and owner of a wedding boutique.

Preap Sovath performs the style of music known as “Khmer Karaoke”, the name derives from the fact that most sales are of VCDs rather than CDs and all VCD film clips come with karaoke-style subtitled lyrics.

Aki Ra’s Boys follows children injured by remnants of the war, as they live with a former Khmer Rouge soldier who disposes of the bombs he once planted

THE young boy points to a large metal object.
"This one is Bouncing Betty," he says.

The next one is tall, with ridges all around.
"This is a pineapple mine."

He could be talking about his favourite lollies, or rides at a fun fair - but he's not.
At just 12 years of age, Boreak has an encyclopaedic knowledge of land mines, and he's giving us a tour of the exhibits at the Cambodian Land-Mine Museum where he lives.

It's a scene from Aki Ra's Boys, an observational documentary made in 2007 by Singaporean filmmaking team James Leong and Lynn Lee of Lianain Films.

The film centres on the young Boreak, an impish boy from a large family in a poor, heavily mined village 100 kilometres from Siem Reap.
Boreak was 6 when he lost his arm in a land-mine explosion that also killed his grandfather.

He endured painful amputation surgery and a recovery without painkillers; an agonising memory that he clearly remembers all too well.
"They kept cutting it shorter and shorter," he says ruefully, rubbing the pointy, sore end of his stump.

Now, though, "it's just a pain".
Boreak has been offered a chance at a better life by Aki Ra, who houses and educates young mine victims at his land-mine museum just outside Siem Reap.

The dusty, makeshift assembly of old mines doesn't look like much, but it's a big step up from the remote poverty Boreak's family endures in the provinces.

A visit home to his family reveals how differently the child is perceived now that he has regular contact with foreigners and tourists.
"In this family, you have the best luck of all," declares his mother, with no trace of irony.

She constantly encourages him to study hard and make the most of his opportunity.

Other family members now see him as something of a cash cow, asking him to buy them televisions, CD players and mobile phones.
"I'm broken-hearted about it," says Boreak, who just wants to fit in like everyone else.

Boreak is different wherever he goes - at home with his family he is an outsider by virtue of his association with wealthy tourists; in the broader community he is disabled and just another victim.

Only at Aki Ra's is he one of the gang, just like the other kids.
"He doesn't look down on people with disabilities," he says of his benefactor, "He loves us all the same."

The documentary Aki Ra's Boys focuses on Boreak's day-to-day life a little too heavily, though, at the expense of the story that puts his experience into context: his relationship with Aki Ra.

Another documentary is being made about Aki Ra that could potentially delve further into his life and the various aspects of his work.
As a young man, Aki Ra served the Khmer Rouge as a soldier, becoming an expert at laying land mines all around western Cambodia.

As an adult, he has assumed responsibility for helping to rid his country of these evil devices, working every day with simple equipment to dig up and defuse old bombs and unexploded ordnance.

In Aki Ra's Boys, his method puts the audience on edge, grimacing as he drags heavy anti-tank mines out of the dirt with his hands and slowly, painstakingly, disassembles them.

It seems a miracle he has never been injured in an explosion, despite having removed more than a staggering 30,000 explosive devices.
It is a testament to his skill, dedication and in-depth knowledge of the composition of the mines that he has been able to work this way for so long.

Since the documentary was made, Aki Ra has received funding and training from the UK and, mercifully. has adopted conventional demining safety measures.

Aki Ra's Boys was shown at Meta House recently.

French Cultural Centre’s head says Khmer culture buffs have been packing Chenla Theatre

THE play is about to start. "Action!" yells a director from backstage. As he does so, drums roar, smoke hisses its way across the stage, and the narrator appears to begin telling the tale of The Girl Without Hands.

Something, however, is missing. A vital component of any play's performance by normal standards as well; ah yes, an audience!

There is, of course, a reason why no paying customers are here to witness the performance. Tonight, The Girl Without Hands is being acted out in front of television cameras, and nobody wanted to take the risk of audience interference during the recording.

Not that such a thing has occurred during the play's three performances at the Chenla Theatre as part of the Lakhaon Theatre Festival. But Alain Arnaudet, president of the French Cultural Centre who organised the performance in collaboration with Compagnie Parnas, says that, because television can present the play to an otherwise unreachable audience, it must be perfect.

"Unfortunately, there are many complicated aspects to our production, such as sounds and other effects, which make it difficult for the show to travel. There simply aren't enough theatres in Cambodia which are equipped to accommodate us," Alain said

The Girl Without Hands began as a German folk tale, one which was taken up by the Brothers Grimm and given their iconic spin. It is a tale told all over the world, in a variety of guises, and was originally adapted into a play by the French.

Now it has made its Cambodian debut. Local performers and traditional Khmer instruments tell this twisted fairy tale. It is firmly targeted at the local population, and although the story originated in Europe, it perhaps resonates more with contemporary Cambodian society than it ever has in the West. Indeed, Arnaudet describes the reception it was given as "wonderful".

The play tells the tale of a simple miller who is working in the forest near his mill one day when he is approached by an affable stranger. This mysterious visitor offers the miller great wealth in return for everything he finds behind the mill.

Believing there to be nothing more than an old tree behind the mill, the miller quickly accepts the outsider's deal, only to find that, as well as the tree, his daughter is there drying clothes. The wealthy charlatan is then revealed to be the devil, who warns that he will return to collect his prize in three years' time.

All of the actors for this production of The Girl Without Hands were recruited from in and around Cambodia, and their skilful performances masked the fact that they had only one-and-a-half months to learn their lines and rehearse before the first official show.

The play had a three-night run at Chenla Theatre in the past week, from Friday to Sunday, and Alain proudly describes the shows as complete sell-outs every night, estimating that most audiences consisted of up to 95 percent Khmers.

He also observed with glee just how affected the audience seemed to be, particularly by both the scenes of great horror and those of a happier nature.

"The audience were constantly caught somewhere between being frightened and laughing," he claimed. "When the miller cuts his daughter's hands off, I could see the reaction in the crowd; their minds were going 'Oh my god! What's going on?'"

The play lasts around an hour and 15 minutes, and it is expected the filmed production will run to the same length. There are no dates or times confirmed as yet for a television broadcast, although the French company that originated the project, Compagnie Parnas, is planning to release the play in book format in Cambodia. It will be translated into English, French and Khmer, and will also include a copy of the filmed performance on DVD.

Compagnie Parnas is a French drama company that have begun working on productions in Cambodia. It is responsible for choosing the subject material and working on all dramatic aspects of the performance.

The French Cultural Centre, on the other hand, organised the logistical side of the event, such as where and when it would be performed.

The two institutions have worked together before, putting on a play derived from a Cambodian legend called The Male Partridge and the Female

Partridge last year. That, allied with the recent success of The Girl Without Hands, has people over at Parnas scratching their heads, already thinking about next year's production.

Whether the play has its roots in Cambodian or Western culture, next time around, The Girl Without Hands will be certainly a tough act to follow.

Ongoing theatrics
In the meantime, those looking for a further theatrical fix can still catch the Lakhaon Theatre Festival's final two productions tonight and tomorrow.
Le Pouvoir du Maitre, or The Power of the Master, is an Opera Bassac which follows a man's murderous escape after he is accused of abusing a young girl. It can be seen tonight at 7pm at Chenla Theatre.

Following that, Ream Eyso et Moni Mekhala, a slice of classical Khmer theatre about the battle between a giant and a water goddess told through dance, will be performed Friday, also at 7pm at Chenla Theatre.

The teenagers packed into the cinema at Sorya on a weekday afternoon are so loud and excitable I think maybe they’ve had too much Coca-Cola.

As the tension rises just a few minutes into the film and the first shocking moment is revealed, audience members jump out of their seats and scream their collective heads off.

The film that has everybody queuing up to be frightened is Vanished, a modern-day thriller set in Phnom Penh.

British producer Matthew Robinson and his team at Khmer Mekong Films (KMF) have raised the bar for local film productions with this new effort, producing a stylish, contemporary film that keeps the audience guessing right to the end.

Not for KMF the familiar regional style of filmmaking, with its over-the-top use of video effects and hard-to-follow supernatural storylines; Robinson’s aim in creating Vanished was to “present Cambodia in a modern light; to make a contemporary film about Cambodians and wrap it up in a thriller”.

KMF has been building a solid team of local talent for the past six years since Robinson relocated to Phnom Penh to work on the BBC series Taste of Life.

Teaming experienced UK cinematographer Bill Broomfield with local director Tom Som on Vanished helped to blend local knowledge with international expertise.

The film is based on three young Cambodian women working at a hip radio station, Heart FM.
When two of the women mysteriously disappear, radio presenter Maly realises her life is in danger.

She joins forces with her co-workers and the local police detective to find out what happened to them, all the while being hunted by the mystery abductor.

Actress Savay Sakana plays the sweet, fragile lead character Maly with charm and grace.

Other standout performances include Nop Sophorn as her sassy best friend Chantha, and Cambodian TV star Pov Kisan as world-weary Detective Heng.

Vanished uses classic, Hitchcock-inspired thriller twists and turns to keep viewers on the edges of their seats.

Watching the film with a Cambodian audience is an entertaining delight, as they don’t hold back with their reactions.
“It’s been thrilling,” agrees Robinson. “They’re jumping at all the right moments.”

Writer Matt Baylis has come up with a well-crafted story - with input from KMF’s Cambodian writers - that is both universal and uniquely Cambodian.

The film touches on themes of independence, as the girls are trying to live independent lives and make their own way in the world.

It shows them challenging social hierarchies at work, standing up to their boss and to society’s narrow vision of how young women should behave.
Vanished also focuses on a central theme of who can be trusted - weaving a pervasive culture of suspicion.

“It’s old versus new, traditional versus modern thinking”, says Robinson.

“We’re trying to give a platform for young Cambodians to see that they can have an independent life.”
KMF has high hopes for the film, which cost “more than double” the typical US$20,000 budget for locally produced features.

If audiences keep coming back for more after producing high, first-week attendance figures, KMF looks set to recover much of that investment - so long as the pirates can be kept at bay.

If a DVD copy of the film hits the streets, the filmmakers know it’s all over.

“Once it’s out, it’s out,” says Robinson.
“If someone goes and pinches the DVD, then it’s got no value. It is literally theft.”

To prevent this sad, seemingly inevitable turn of events, a KMF staff member has to carry the screening copy by hand into the cinema each day - as well as supervise the projection to ensure that it is kept away from rapacious pirates.

The filmmakers hope to screen the film at international festivals and use its momentum to propel KMF into bigger and better projects.

The film screens with well-authored English subtitles and isn’t just aimed at locals - it also serves as a fantastic introduction to local culture for foreigners keen to sample Cambodian cinema. More, please!

Vanished is currently screening at the cinema on the fifth floor of Sorya mall in Phnom Penh.
It opens at the Baray Ondet Cinema in Siem Reap this Friday.