By DEIRDRE CRIMMINS
Starring Zafreen Zairizal, Piqa and Deena Ezral
Directed by Amanda Nell Eu
Written by Amanda Nell Eu and Samm Haillay
Akanga Film Productions
Mythology, religion and traditions tend to divide cultures, rather than unite them. There are, however, common threads throughout human experiences that fight these imposed divisions to bring us closer together than we might think. The human body, and its inherent strangeness, is one of those things. Every single person and collective people need ways to understand our bodies and how they change. All of this is why it is oddly comforting to watch another culture’s coming-of-age story, and discomfiting to see that the toils young women go through are sadly universal.
TIGER STRIPES, which just played the Boston Underground Film Festival, has been collecting awards from film festivals all through 2023. Cannes, Sitges and Fantasia all recognized and awarded the film during its time at those fests. And it is clear why.
The film is a story of young girls on the cusp of puberty, in rural Malaysia. Their omnipresent headwraps and modest clothing convey their Muslim culture without them saying a word, and the corresponding expectations for their gender are not far behind. But the girls seem happy and find their joy in the hours after school when they can play and just be kids.
It would be reductive to call TIGER STRIPES the Malaysian Ginger Snaps, but that reduction does not mean the comparison is not apt. Zaffan (Zafreen Zairizal) is the first in her school to get her period, and she is as shocked as Carrie White in the shower when it happens. The rebellious and boisterous girl refuses to comply with her mother’s wishes, and she is not letting her bodily changes make any adjustment to who she is. However, her body has a different plan.
Digging into the Malaysian folklore tradition of weretigers or harimau jadian, TIGER STRIPES slowly transcends into horror as Zaffan begins changing in ways beyond what her menstruation can explain. The physical and behavioral alterations do seem to hinge on a certain degree of fluency in Malaysian mythology, but without that context, the film still sufficiently conveys some excellent unsettling creepiness.
To complement the transformation Zaffan is going through, TIGER STRIPES also explores the horror potential in tween female friendships. Often the veil between friend and enemy in that age is tissue-consortconcongroupgroupthin. Teasing and riffing can switch to bullying without much of a pivot, and with such a small cabal of classmates, that switch is quick enough to give whiplash.
There are some pacing issues in the film. Certain sequences seem to take more time than they should, and others would benefit from a bit more exposition as they take us through the grittier parts of the transformations.
One aspect of the film that deserves major celebration is the performances of the three young female leads. Zairizal, Deena Ezral and Piqa, the latter two playing Zaffan’s best friends Farah and Miriam, are all first-time actors, and it is truly difficult to believe that they have not been doing this their entire lives. There is little unintended awkwardness in front of the camera, and their shifting friendships read as clear as can be without much dialogue to overtly explain these changes. In the lead, Zairizal keeps up with the emotional and physical demands of the part and delivers a brilliant and uncanny portrayal of a girl who no longer knows herself.
There are a few small hiccups along the way, but TIGER STRIPES delivers puberty horror in a big way. It is unsettling and uncomfortable, and beautifully carried by its strong mythology and pristine performances.
