If you happen to have about an hour to spare this Saturday, September 25, why not spend it on YouTube watching some Malaysian short films while supporting a great cause. In conjunction with World Suicide Prevention Day and World Mental Health Day, Nyawa, a Malaysian NGO that is focused on increasing awareness about mental health, is co-hosting Layar Perak: Let There Be Light, a virtual short film festival in collaboration with My Mind on Film. The festival will feature short films by Feisal Azizuddin, Zahir Omar, Farihin Ufiya, Sharifah Aleysha, and Jason Lee.
Layar Perak: Let There Be Light will also be raising funds for three Malaysian organisations that provide mental health services and support, AloeMind, BefriendersKL, and HumanKind. Viewers will be able to donate funds throughout the screening, and a lucky draw will be held where five donors will stand a chance to win an annual subscription to Mubi.
We were given the chance to watch a couple of the short films showcased at the festival and here is a quick preview of two of the five films that will be screened.
Diri (Sharifah Aleysha)
Sharifah Aleysha’s directorial debut, Diri, follows Sharifah Aryana’s character as she tries to deal with the repercussions of a tragedy. Sharifah Aryana’s portrayal of a sister dealing with loss and the memories of times past is wonderfully understated but never underserved. Sharifah Aleysha has a deft directorial hand. The way she employs different scene colours and camera cuts, from signaling memories, to taking the audience from past to present, is executed with great thought and understanding. Aside from featuring her sister Sharifah Aryana, Sharifah Aleysha’s Diri also stars her elder sister Sharifah Amani, and mother, Fatimah Abu Bakar.
Guilt (Jason Lee)
Jason Lee’s Guilt is the perfect interpretation of the short film form. Told by way of four voice messages and one phone call, this is a story of heartbreak and pain that, while not specific to a pandemic, feels all the more prescient during COVID. Listening in on the phone messages also feels voyeuristic and uncomfortable as the viewer slowly learns of Wai Kit’s situation, all without ever hearing from Wai Kit himself.
Jason Lee’s writing is tight and wonderfully restrained, dolling out little tidbits of information that moves the story along while filling slowly filling in the gaps. We hear from a heartbroken sister, a furious brother, and a mother in pain, as we begin to piece together the full story of Wai Kit and his family. Guilt is heartbreaking, and painful, and fits a little too well into these times we have found ourselves in.
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