2. Mythology, Climate Control, and the AC Double Bind

Natalie Khoo:

It is interesting to think about how you are sampling the actual sound of the environment. There are many affinities between these films. From a practical filmmaking standpoint, you shared crew members, including the DP and the producer. It feels like you are constructing a shared tropical multiverse together. Another major element that appears in both films is mythology. Could you speak a little bit about how you deal with mythology in your respective works?

Elizabeth G Lee:

In my work, there is a goddess of air. I wanted to portray her as a disembodied presence that enters through modern cooling devices, like air purifiers and air conditioners. The voice you hear is Jace, an AI, omniscient being who rules over this fictional universe. He is trying to connect with a character tied to the past, because the present world in the film has become entirely disconnected from the natural goddess of air. Instead, we rely completely on air conditioning and heavy machinery just to breathe, live, and avoid sweating.

When writing the script, we were interested in exploring the desire to shut out the sun in a pursuit to return to a cold, temperate environment. Even though the characters talk about embracing non-human worlds and the natural heat, we remain trapped in a double bind—we are essentially slaves to the machines that regulate our climate. The film does not present a utopian dream where we can simply abandon technology and live in extreme heat, especially when that heat is exacerbated by climate change. Rather, we have to find a healthier way to coexist with these devices—perhaps by setting the AC to 26°C on eco mode instead of blasting it at 18°C, which just dumps more heat outside. It is about reckoning with this double bind rather than adopting a purely Luddite way of living.

Kent Chan:

For me, it always comes back to stories. These stories explain how landscapes used to be. In certain places, there are narratives about things disappearing, or about fictional, archaeological landscapes. I have always been drawn to how stories help us make sense of climate change. The reality of global warming is that we are not going to completely fix or stop it, so these narratives help us process how we deal with the changing tropic.

3.  Microclimates and Art Installations

Natalie Khoo:

You are exploring the ghosts left in the wake of bioengineering—both its successes and its failures. Formally, I know one of these projects was originally developed as an art installation involving a physical microclimate. Could you share how that was first presented to create a palpable feeling of heat?

Kent Chan:

I did a show at Gasworks in London. The gallery space featured two distinct chambers. I didn't want to just lock the audience in a standard room, so we introduced a physical intervention using a series of water barrels. In both chambers, these barrels pumped out intense heat and moisture. Every 33 minutes, the microclimates would swap: one room would get the heat, while the other would shift.

In the tropics, we do not have distinct seasons like summer or winter; instead, we have wet and dry seasons. What I appreciate about this system is how moisture connects everything together, acting as a larger weather system that physically affects the audience as they watch the work.

Elizabeth G Lee:

Continuing that theme of moisture, we chose to embody it through two characters framed as water nymphs. They are human, but act as spirits attracted to pools of energy. One nymph is placed in front of a former oil refinery located in the remaining 4% of our original mangrove systems. The other nymph is drawn to a karaoke lounge, which serves as a different kind of energy pool. I wanted to look at moisture in two ways: the literal sense of a mangrove ecosystem, and the metaphorical moisture shared body-to-body via proximity in a crowded lounge.

Regarding the music, we began by exchanging playlists containing tracks I would frequently Shazam in these local lounges, mixed with electronic music. The sound designer took those concepts and evolved them into a completely different kind of sonic monster. I have always been a consumer of liminal spaces and old malls, drawing inspiration from creators like Adam Curtis who piece together archival footage with subcultural electronic music. Scoring the karaoke venue sequence was easily the most enjoyable part of the process.