Joon Goh’s ‘MOP’ Is An Unfiltered Look At Power, Submission & Survival

With MOP making waves internationally, Goh proves that Malaysian cinema is capable of being raw, unflinching, and boundary-pushing.

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After sweeping up major accolades at Fantastic Fest and QCinema, Malaysian filmmaker Joon Goh’s short film MOP is now making its online premiere via Short of the Week.

A nine-minute gut-punch of power struggles, manipulation, and toxic intimacy between Ayu, a young employee of a furniture store, and her boss, Cecilia, during a routine lunch break, MOP has captivated audiences with its unflinching portrayal of human relationships.

We sat down with Goh to talk about the inspiration behind the film, his thoughts on Malaysian cinema, and why, sometimes, you just have to “scare yourself” as a filmmaker.

“Every relationship is sadomasochistic.”

TRP: What was the personal or societal trigger that made you want to tell this story?

Joon Goh: It was a personal trigger. During lockdown, my kids used to play with me in a way that felt… less innocent than it probably was. It felt like something malicious was going on. Later, when I was thinking about making a short film on human relationships, that memory came back to me.

Lockdown changed how we looked at human beings. You’re trapped, suffocated—it brings out the worst in people. That’s why the film has quite a bleak view.

Preface: it’s not about children. It’s about adult relationships. But that was the spark.

You’ve said that “every relationship is sadomasochistic.” What shaped that perspective?

JG: I’ve always felt that. I think human beings come from a place of trying to satisfy our own needs. This film is just one perspective on that—one of many ways to look at human relationships. It happens to be the perspective I had on that particular day, and it can be a perspective any one of us can have on any day.

It’s not like I hate people! (laughs)

I never got that impression watching the film.

JG: Yeah, and if anything, by the end, the power play flips. There’s a moment of compassion towards Cecilia (Mei Fen’s character) when she realizes where she’s been and what she’s doing.

Do you find that audiences respond differently to MOP?

JG: It really connects with younger women. I don’t know why, but in every Q&A, it’s always women in their 20s and 30s who come up to me and say, “I love how unflinching it is.”

I think it’s because you didn’t hold back. Power struggles between women are usually silent. MOP just puts it all out there.

JG: Yeah. And I think that’s why it resonates.

Casting, Cinematography, and a Malaysia in Transition

The film has a raw, naturalistic style. How did you develop the setting and atmosphere to support the film’s themes?

JG: Well, the story itself is quite abstract, so we had to ground it. I also wanted to move away from the LGBTQ+ angle—some producers wanted to frame it that way, but I didn’t.

I thought about what kind of jobs these women would have. A furniture store felt right—deadpan, a little funny. I also wanted a racial element—Mia’s character, Ayu, is Malay, and Cecilia is Chinese. I just traced it backwards, and it all came together step-by-step.

The discount furniture store is such an unexpected but fitting choice. What inspired it?

JG: Malaysia, to me, is a country in transition. The store reflects that—it’s not making top-of-the-line products. It’s holding on to the past rather than pushing forward. The whole setting mirrors that sense of stagnation and being at a crossroads.

“You don’t really stop once you have a hold on someone.”

The psychological battle in MOP is intense. What was it like directing your actors?

JG: I’d worked with Mia (Ayu) and Mei Fen (Cecilia) before, so I knew they were right for the roles. Mei Fen is great with psychological horror. Mia’s a dark horse—her performance even surprised me. But I knew she had kinship with the character.

We blocked everything in rehearsals with Butoh movement choreographer Din Sabah. The actors had to literally act things out—like being a table and sitting on someone. Once you do something like that, the subtext is already there. You don’t need to over analyse it. It almost felt like experimental theatre.

You push boundaries in MOP—both physically and emotionally. How do you decide how far to go?

JG: We had to go all the way. That’s why Ayu eats glass at the end. It starts almost like a joke, but then turns dark. And that’s how power dynamics work in real life. Once you have control over someone, you don’t just stop. You push it further.

But the glass was fake, right?

JG: It was, but it was made wrong, so it was actually as sharp as real glass. So she had to be very careful.

“You need to scare yourself.”

Is there anything you would change about MOP?

JG: (long pause) Nothing. (laughs)

Honestly, it turned out better than I expected. When you’re shooting, you don’t always see how good the performances are. But when I saw the rushes, it felt like Christmas.

How has the international reception shaped your view of your own work?

JG: I wasn’t sure how it would be received—whether it was genre or arthouse. But Fantastic Fest took it first, and it was seen as a genre film, which I’m happy with. It did way better than I expected, especially for something made with almost no money.

It made me realize that Malaysian shorts are too domestically focused. You have to not give a sh** and express your deepest, darkest desires. That’s what makes stories resonate beyond borders. When you fully commit to your vision, it speaks for itself.

Your advice for new filmmakers?

JG: Don’t self-censor. You need to scare yourself. Do something that makes you feel like you might get in trouble (laughs). Malaysians are conditioned to self-censor, and that’s our biggest problem.

The Future of Malaysian Cinema

What kind of stories excite you right now?

JG: Stories that are brutally honest about how we live today. Malaysia has changed—we’re ready for more complex representations of our identity.

If you had to describe your filmmaking voice in three words?

JG: (long pause)

“Raw, honest, authentic”?

JG: Raw, yes… but with the other two words, it sounds like a jeans ad. (laughs)

Any filmmakers or artists that influenced MOP?

Egon Schiele’s works. (Google Arts & Culture)

JG: Austrian painter Egon Schiele. It might not be obvious in the film, but his work was a starting point.

Do you think Malaysian cinema is evolving in how it portrays power and relationships?

JG: There are outliers—like Amanda Nell Eu’s and Mickey Lai’s films—but overall, no. Malaysians are still quite conservative and safe.

If MOP became a feature film, what would you explore further?

JG: Ayu and Cecilia’s backstories. In the short film, it’s abstract, but a feature could still be abstract while making their psychology more layered.

“Just go all out.”

What do you hope online viewers take away from MOP?

JG: I hope it shows that Malaysian and Southeast Asian films don’t have to be quiet or appropriate. They can be loud, brash, and still valid. That’s who we are, too.

Just go all out. Don’t be scared to be ridiculed.