Most cultures, both past and current have some sort of rite of passage, some ritual, for those of the age we call teenagers. Perhaps it's not as formal as it was in years passed, since those teenage times tend to be in a school environment rather than a fairly firm line between childhood and adulthood. And maybe there is something lost in that lack of formality: we expect children to act as adults but then when they do, and not in the way we want, we admonish them. So these children want their rebellion, want their freedom, and will take it even if we try to refuse it.
Singaporean writer/director Siyou Tan, having had success with short films screening at prestigious festivals, has made her first feature, and like all strong debuts, she delves into her own experience to present signs and symbols of the life of teenagers in a society where even something as seemingly mundane as chewing gum is outlawed. Amoeba mines the often lost rites and rituals of necessary rebellion, of girls who have a life they want that adults are not allowing them.
16-year-old Choo (Ranice Tay) is the new girl at an exclusive Chinese school, where she and her classmates are in their final year before junior college. It's clear from the start that she's something of the odd girl out, making it clear that she hasn't much time for the formalities of school or the pressure imposed on her for academic excellence and deference to authority. This immediately endears her to her new group of friends, Nessa (Nicole Lee Wen), Gina (Genevieve Tan), and Sofia (Lim Shi-An), who appreciate her rebellious spirit.
They spend their lunch hours exploring construction sites where they find the figurine of a God; with Nessa's camcorder, they record their exploits trying kung fu and karaoke. As their bond grows, Choo shares with them a secret: a ghost spends every night with her, pressing through the mosquito net that surrounds her bed, sitting on the bed's edge likely watching her. As a result, Choo doesn't get much sleep. Choo, like so many teenagers (arguably especially girls) feels a lack of power in her life: she goes to school where she is told, she and the other students must never question their parents or teachers, they are told they must pick a junior college to attend; in other words, they must conform and obey.
There is some luck to Choo and her friends being in the camcorder era; they are able to not only explore their identity through their actions, but seeing how those actions look to others. This might seem at first like frivolity or vanity, but it offers them both their own control, and a chance at exploration in a way they can remember. They will know that these moments were not as the adults want to label them, as rude and silly and disrespectful, but as when they explored what they could say, what they could be, and what they want to be.
Tan takes her time with the story, allowing us to be a part of the girls' world in this detail that feels uncanny; both in the ghostly sense, as both Choo's ghost, and we, prowl around them, as if wanting to embody them; and as the adults who know that there will be compromises, ones that are perhaps necessary, but ones we wish they would continue to rebel against.
Teenagers often think and feel like they are gods; rebellious and daring as they explore new ideas and feelings. At the same time, their vulnerability makes us ache for how the world will treat them. Amoeba shows us that world of strength and sensitivity, the rites of passage these girls make for themselves in a society than denies them.