Coming-of-age tales are a genre with little recent innovation. Yet Singaporean-American filmmaker Siyou Tan finds remarkable specificity and novelty in her Singapore-set “girl-gang” story. Singapore is not an oft-portrayed location or culture in movies that reach North American screens; Amoeba‘s setting and exploration provide the primary interest in Tan’s debut feature, which deals explicitly with the cosmopolitan identity of Singapore, and what it means to the young people in the city-state.
Amoeba finds four 16-year-old girls––Choo (Ranice Tay), Vanessa (Nicole Lee Wen), Sofia (Lim Shi-An) and Gina (Genevieve Tan)––at a turning point. They are in an elite girls’ Chinese school, roughly in the equivalent of grade 10. At the end of the term they will transition to new schools (Junior College) based on their performance, charting decisive new courses for their lives and careers. Tan brings to the fore the distinctly Asian experience of school kids, especially concerning the expectation of academic excellence and economic disparity between classmates.
Asian schools often put kids of modest means and immense privilege side-by-side, with the opportunity to form deep friendships in a manner simply impossible in any other sphere of life. These friendships often survive into adulthood but are strained by differences in economic outcomes, even the ability to plan leisure together. While not the driving force of conflict within Amoeba, Sofia’s wealth, more refined English accent, and expectation of greater success in life bring her into opposition with fellow girl-gang members, who seek to pick a common school to continue their sisterhood.
For most of its runtime, though, Amoeba is a hangout film that charts the mores of teenage girls as they blossom into adulthood. In a welcome direction for such stories, especially with female filmmakers assuming the reins, Amoeba is entirely stripped of boy concerns or troubles that, even 20 years ago, would have occupied the majority of a film like this. Instead our protagonists work on class assignments, perform a school play, discuss Singapore’s cultural and political heritage, and just goof around.
In a major narrative thread, they form a “girl gang,” though in its tameness it is more akin to a girls’ club than a gangster gang, however they brand themselves. Their activities are limited to a little bit of smoking and drinking, exploring city landmarks (Singapore’s famous Merlion makes a customary appearance), and hanging about in a cave performing mock rituals. “Gang members” in American schools would be sooner involved in felony shoplifting and drugs, if not worse.
Sofia has a camcorder (Amoeba is set in a pre-smartphone era), and the girls often film exploits––cursing-out teachers, discussing “gang activities.” The plentiful camcorder footage is not just illustrative, but contributes to the storyline: the camcorder’s interception by the faculty puts the girls in jeopardy and contributes to their inter-personal conflict.
Tan also weaves in a supernatural story. Choo believes a ghost is haunting her room, and there’s frequent discussion of gods and spirits within Singaporean culture alongside the aforementioned “rituals.” However, this element doesn’t really contribute to our understanding of the characters, instead functioning more as a cultural gloss applied by Tan in a nod to Asian modes of storytelling.
Amoeba rests firmly on the shoulders of young protagonists who carry this film like seasoned pros, bringing their charisma and personality to bear. Choo is a particularly spirited, fierce presence, especially in the early scenes where she has to break the ice with the other girls as a new entrant to their class. The cast performs in English and Chinese; it’s interesting (and telling) when they use each language, freely switching mid-conversation or even mid-sentence. Typically, the westernized kids speak English on their own but speak Chinese with adults and formally in class.
Tan clearly wanted her protagonists to be modern, smart young women, and they come across that way, freely debating the founding of Singapore and what it means to them. It’s the director’s own grappling with her heritage and a note of freedom that the girls aren’t afraid to disparage propaganda, question half-truths, and cultivate their own version of national identity. In a poignant conclusion, Rashomon-style, each girl illustrates her own point of view, leaving the audience with the multiplicity of perspectives in a non-monolithic Singapore as the young people assume the reins and charge forward.
Amoeba premiered at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival.