The knives are falling at my feet and I’m supposed to catch them by the handles. I don’t succeed. This is a free “immersive Predator experience” at a Bangkok cinema complete with atmospheric sets, film props, and physical challenges to prove you’re predator not prey. I fail the blade catch but nail the laser rifle and poison plant maze. The whole setup probably cost more than most Singaporean theaters make in a week, which is why we’ll never see anything like it back home. Small markets can’t justify this kind of spectacle when nobody goes to movies anymore.
The market size thing keeps coming up. Sushiro here is cheaper with bigger portions — the mackerel and tuna noticeably better than Singapore’s. But a local friend sent me to Katsu Midori instead, which claims to be Japan’s “number-one” conveyor belt sushi brand. The quality and generosity made me understand why Singaporeans fantasize about moving to Thailand. It’s not only the cost arbitrage; it’s having enough customers to support real competition and excellence at every tier.
I saw Predator: Badlands before the knife-catching humiliation. It’s not like any other Predator film — a young Yautja (Predator) is the protagonist, Elle Fanning tags along being delightful, and if you’ve been watching Alien: Earth you’ll catch a Weyland-Yutani reference. It’s almost too much fun for this franchise but I had a good time.
Then Now You See Me, Now You Don’t: schlocky heist nonsense with too many characters and Magic Castle consultants providing magician’s jargon nobody asked for. The absolute best trick here is Rosamund Pike’s South African accent. Watching her joyfully inhabiting the villain squares the ticket price.
Then Bugonia. Yorgos Lanthimos and Emma Stone, remaking the Korean Save the Green Planet! Don’t look anything up, just watch it. I’ve avoided their recent work but Stone is so good here I felt like I was seeing her for the first time — not the competent actress I knew but someone operating on a completely different level. The film makes pretentious orchestral choices that annoyed me until the final sequence paired music and image so perfectly I forgave everything. That experience of an artist asking for your trust and then paying it back in spades is something special.
Which brings me to ROSALÍA.
I’ve never paid attention to Spanish-language music beyond casual exposure. Ricky Martin and Shakira. Didn’t even know how Latin American and European Spanish differed until this week. But her new album LUX kept appearing in my feeds and so I listened. Then I listened to MOTOMAMI. Both of them, over and over.
With this, I think she’s up there with Lorde, Billie Eilish, FKA twigs, Kendrick Lamar, Janelle Monáe — artists creating boundary-pushing work that questions everything while being unapologetically emotional. Maybe necessarily spiritual. LUX’s multilayered beauty and complexity feels like an impossible accomplishment. You don’t need to be a musician or watch her Zane Lowe interview to know it took years to create. You can hear it.
Then I found an angry essay calling her a colonizer. It claims she (and her fellow Spaniards) stole flamenco from Romani people, conveniently rebranded herself as Latina to enter the Latin Grammy awards, and now that ICE is deporting brown people, the evil ROSALÍA is finally revealing her true face: a White European plumbing the Christian-orchestral tradition with an album where she poses as a fair and chaste nun on the cover.
I found it very tiring, and wondered if policing cultural appropriation is just another form of gatekeeping. Because it turns out the Latin Grammys are open to all Spanish-language artists — more about language and tradition than ethnicity. But my real issue is this idea that curious minds have no right to explore and remix the world they encounter. It’s like saying Yo-Yo Ma shouldn’t play Bach because he’s Chinese-American, rather than celebrating how his contributions have enriched the canon. ROSALÍA’s reverence for these traditions is obvious in the music itself. I don’t need a sworn affidavit listing her inspirations to hear it.
When you discover something this good — something you should have found years ago — you don’t want to be told it’s problematic. You want to understand why it works, why it moves you, why someone else’s cultural exploration can become universal art. That’s what great artists do. They don’t stay in their lane. They take what they love from everywhere and make something new that can belong to everyone.
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