The bad side of Singaporean acting industry

Actors share their harrowing experiences in Singapore’s entertainment scene, highlighting unsafe working conditions and a culture of mistreatment.

“They said to me—fairly last minute—‘By the way, you’re going to be put naked into a pig cage, and you’re going to be in the water.’”

Neal Moore, a trained actor, is still incredulous as he recalls his recent experience on the set of a local historical drama. He remembers being baffled by the term “pig cage,” unsure of what he was about to face. It wasn’t until he made his way to the water, awkwardly covering his genitals, that he saw a bamboo cage, barely big enough for him to fit into.

“When I got there, all I could smell was dead fish. The water was absolutely vile,” Neal recalls.

Equally disturbing was the complete lack of safety protocols on set. “Nobody ever asked if I could swim—and I can barely swim. Nobody asked me if I had my Hepatitis A or Hepatitis B shots,” he says. With no rehearsal or backup plan in place, Neal found himself being unceremoniously pushed into the cage by the stunt coordinator, who, instead of offering help, became irritated with Neal’s questions.

“I’m standing there naked, having an argument in the water with this bloke who’s supposed to be there for my protection,” he shares.

For Neal, a business and communications coach who has dabbled in the acting scene for two years, this wasn’t an isolated incident. He says it seems almost every actor he’s spoken to has a horror story about Singapore’s entertainment industry.

Acting as If It’s Okay

According to Laura Kee, an actor and advocate for actor’s rights, the lack of official safety and welfare standards on sets in Singapore has led to increasingly punishing schedules and unprofessional environments. Actors, often the lowest on the totem pole, tend to accept mistreatment to avoid delaying production.

“There are no intimacy coordinators for intimate scenes, and actors are left to deal with these moments on their own,” Laura says. “We’re not even given proper time for breaks or enough safety measures.”

Laura shares one deeply troubling experience from her early career in 2008, during a rape scene in a short film. “When you’re not a trained actor, you end up doing things for real. The touching and everything—it’s real. You can say you’re playing a character, but it still happens to you.”

She’s not the only one. Alex*, another actor in his twenties, prefers to remain anonymous for fear of blacklisting. He describes a recent audition where no clear boundaries were set for intimate scenes. “They say, ‘Go as far as you’re comfortable with.’ But you feel the pressure to push your limits to impress the director. The power imbalance makes it hard to refuse,” he says.

Horror Stories from the Set

Neal and Laura’s experiences are far from isolated. Jerry Hoh, an actor with over 25 years of experience, recalls being suspended upside down from a tree branch for a scene, with no prior brief or safety preparation. After the shoot, Jerry faced stomach swelling—a psychosomatic reaction to the trauma his body experienced.

“I was hanging upside down with no safety net underneath. The rope could have snapped. There was no talk about insurance, and they rushed me to finish the scene,” Jerry recounts. “The next day, I felt the physical consequences. It was like my body had to process the danger.”

For actors like Laura, Neal, Alex, and Jerry, these incidents serve as harsh reminders of how actors are often treated as expendable resources in an industry driven by speed and budget constraints.

Unbalanced Pay and Poor Treatment

While the mistreatment of actors is rampant in local productions, the problem is compounded by the financial strain many actors face. As freelancers, they are constantly negotiating their pay, often in an environment where transparency is limited, and budget cuts are the norm.

Alex shares the anxiety of negotiating for fair pay: “You always fear that if you ask for more, you’ll price yourself out of the market. But as an actor, you’re essentially a product. It’s hard to balance your business interests with personal relationships.”

The lack of fair compensation is further compounded by the increasing trend of lowballing from production companies, who often offer minimal rates, especially to new actors eager to break into the industry.

International Standards vs Local Productions

The conditions on local sets starkly contrast with international productions. Alex, who has worked on both local and international sets, notes that US crews follow strict guidelines for actors’ welfare, including mandatory meal breaks and a safer working environment. However, in Singapore, actors are often expected to work 14 to 16-hour days, with minimal regard for their well-being.

“When you work on an international production, you feel taken care of. But on local sets, there’s a sense that they’re just trying to cut corners,” Alex says.

Jerry also shares his frustration with local productions: “I’ve worked in Cambodia, where I was treated like a professional. I had a trailer, and they checked on me when an animal nibbled me. But here, local productions barely treat you as a person.”

The Struggle for Fair Treatment

Laura, who founded The Actors’ Society (TAS) to support actors’ rights, emphasizes that the lack of union representation for freelance actors exacerbates the problem. She’s been fighting for better pay, safety standards, and overall treatment, but the lack of transparency and power dynamics make meaningful change difficult.

“The issue isn’t just about poor pay or long hours. It’s a systemic problem where actors are undervalued, and the industry encourages exploitation. Change has to come from the top, especially with government funding being a major part of the entertainment industry,” Laura says.

The Root of the Problem

At its core, the issue stems from the belief that creative professionals should suffer for their art. This mindset fuels the exploitation of actors, crew members, and all who work in the creative industry.

“The idea that we should just endure poor treatment because it’s our passion is toxic,” Laura concludes. “We need to advocate for better, more responsible budgets, and fairer treatment across the industry.”

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