Mark Lee shows off an emotional, career-best performance in this nostalgic independent film about the ties that bind.

The idea of an amusement park is a rarity in Singapore today, often relegated to pop-ups during big events, or simply a relic of the past. Imagining it evokes nostalgia, for a simpler time when it was all families had to look forward to, a symbol of joy and coming together, yet knowing their eventual, inescapable fate and unsustainability, there is a pang of sadness that haunts these thoughts, that they will one day be torn down and disappear.

Set in 1989, the final operating year of Singapore’ Wonderland amusement park, Wonderland creates precisely that sense of loss for a place and time we can no longer go back to, and the relationships that fray along the way. At its heart is a story about family and friendship, where Mark Lee plays Loke, a father whose own family is falling apart, when his daughter Eileen (Xenia Tan) receives an acceptance letter to Columbia University in America. On the other hand, Loke also strikes up an unexpected friendship with Tan (Peter Yu), a choir director through a series of mishaps. All three of them begin to lie to each other in their own way, forging a strange foundation for their relationships, and as more recruits and friends come on board to help Loke achieve an elaborate plan, resulting in a fleeting form of joy amidst the pain.

Much of Wonderland relies on careful balance of emotions without becoming overwrought with the feelings of loss. The film manages this by constantly building up the strength of its emotions and characterisation, often punctuated with silence to drive home the weight of all that’s burdening these characters. In its opening scene, we already see an overhead view of Wonderland, hitting out with nostalgia, before Loke plays the harmonica within the park, the sound edited out. It is a bleak, heartbreaking start to the show, as we see him coughing up blood, making it clear that he’s a ticking time bomb, with death somewhere on the horizon.

Conversations with his daughter feel genuine, the dialogue well-written and creating natural chemistry between both Mark and Xenia – little pauses and silence often fill the space to reflect them thinking about the implications the future bring and their own private fears as they hide the truth from each other. It is clear they both want the best for each other and show immense care, and knowing how distant they’ll become, they dedicate themselves to spending more time with each other. The resulting scene in Wonderland is glorious – a game of ring toss sees Loke triumphantly winning a bear for Eileen, no words needed, just joy in her eyes as she looks at her father with love and admiration, and you fully believe that Mark and Xenia are family. It is these big moments, along with little ones, such as sharing a cigarette, or Loke passing her a family heirloom, that make you think about your own relationship with your parents or children, and how it’s been built up over the years.

On the other hand, we also have Tan, quickly established as the polar opposite of Loke – the former a staunch Christian due to a dark past involving heavy gambling and drinking that led to the loss of his family, and the latter a Buddhist who even owns a kimzua (offerings) store. A clever juxtaposition of Loke at the temple and Tan at the church showcases this contrast, yet we see that they are united in their love for their daughters. While Mark Lee is given the bulk of the heavy emotional performance in this film, Peter Yu also gets to show off his acting chops in his interactions with Loke, or how his face lights up during a particularly uplifting rendition of ‘dayung sampan’ during an audition for the choir.

The two men’s unlikely friendship forms over a miscommunication by Loke at the post office, where his letters to Eileen accidentally end up at Tan’s home address instead. Meeting at the old letter boxes, yet another relic of Singapore’s past, there is a glint of hope and camaraderie we feel between the two middle-aged men, so rarely depicted on screen, as they bond with each other; later on, when Peter plays a song on his keyboard, Mark recognises the tune and joins in with his harmonica, and how close they’ve become. It’s a scene that shows the close proximity of neighbours and that kampung spirit we’ve been missing for so long – looking out for each other in small ways, and how tight-knit the community is.

Still, life is a rollercoaster, and tragedy strikes. Just as everything seems to be going well, it all goes up in flames, all at once. There’s a bitter irony to how it all plays out, and we can’t help but mourn the absurdity of life, while Loke’s time continues to run out, a new one begins. The buddies he’s gathered along the way understand this, and they help prepare for one last hurrah together, working towards this final elaborate performance to ensure that things don’t end on a sad note. A dramatic downpour, constant coughing from Loke, and the tension of whether the lie would be found out all build up to an intense emotional climax, before Loke finally reaches his end, and we prepare to witness a sobering funeral for him.

Yet, the film is not yet over, and as Tan discovers a tape left behind in Loke’s flat, it is revealed that Loke knew all along the truth of it all. As much as there is pain and loss, there is the realisation that one cannot always dwell on the past, and must learn to move on and help the living while we still can. In a final act of kindness, Loke has decided to help the new friends he’s made, to help them mend their lives and relationships, and make them aware of how much they can and should treasure their loved ones while they still can. Loke’s funeral ends up a celebration of his life rather than purely the mourning of loss, as the friends look back on all they’ve gone through and what still lies ahead. The rainbow lights are turned off, and we are left with an empty, darkened void deck, each of the friends having gone on their own journeys. These people who were once lonely individuals have found solace in each other as kindred spirits, and are finally ready to return and reunite with their own families.

In its final sequence, we segue into a scene where we see Loke’s entire family reunited in Wonderland amusement park. While certainly not a real place anymore, it is perhaps their own version of the afterlife, representing a kind of paradise where nothing changes, and there is some kind of eternity captured in a place that holds so many fond memories. Life goes on, but if we make memories worth holding on to, then change isn’t so hard, as long as we remember that there will always be good times, when you find the right people to spend them with. Uplifting against the tragic, buoyed by powerful performances by both Mark Lee and Peter Yu, Wonderland is local cinema at its best, championing finding joy and helping others to do the same, instead of looking back with regret.

Wonderland is now playing in Singapore cinemas, including Golden Village.