Comment: My Teochew grandmother was excited to watch ‘Dear You’. It would’ve been nicer if she understood the dialogue.

My grandmother is a second-generation Teochew Singaporean.

Her family hailed from Jieyang, one of three major Teochew cities in China's Eastern Guangdong Province.

Like many her age, being a girl in pre-war Singapore meant not having much of an education, if any at all.

We speak exclusively in dialect – her in her native Teochew and me in my half-baked imitation, but we get by.

Lost in translation

To my grandma, Teochew forms a huge part of her identity.

I often hear about her early life in Singapore – how kampungs sorted themselves by dialect groups, how they supported each other in a language only they knew.

Things get lost in translation, though. Since the 1979 Speak Mandarin Campaign, which restricted the use of dialects in favour of Mandarin, communicating with younger generations of Singaporeans became limited to her tiny arsenal of about 10 Mandarin words.

And so when Chinese Indie film "Dear You" landed in Singapore's cinemas on Jun. 18 to much fanfare, I found the plot all too familiar.

The story centres around a Chinese man's search for his "billionaire grandfather" in Thailand, before discovering that the one who has been corresponding with his grandmother for years is not her husband.

Like the male protagonist, my grandmother's father was among the influx of Chinese immigrants who moved to Southeast Asia in the 1930s to find work amidst social and political turmoil back home.

"Teochews must look out for each other" is frequently mentioned by characters in the film. Like them, my great-grandfather relied heavily on those who arrived before him to build a life in a foreign land.

According to my grandma, he would send letters and money to relatives back home, relying on a handful of neighbours who could read and write in Mandarin.

The Teochew community banded together through their common dialect, much like how some Singaporeans abroad might find familiarity in hearing Singlish.

Dubbing a dialect movie

Despite its modest budget of 14 million yuan (S$2.66 million) and a largely unknown cast, the film was a sleeper hit, poised to become the third Chinese film to break a million dollars at the box office this year.

But it wasn't just the heartfelt dialogue or nostalgic scenes of 1950s Siam, or Thailand, that sparked conversation, but the fact that, except for limited screenings, the Teochew film was dubbed over in Mandarin here.

Calls were made by members of the public, filmmakers and even members of parliament to reconsider the restriction.

In a Facebook post, Workers' Party's Hougang MP Dennis Tan called for the preservation of the nation's dialect heritage, citing dialects like Teochew and Hokkien as the language of communication among many of his residents at Hougang.

"I have come to believe that our dialect group heritage is as much a part of our Singaporean Chinese cultural heritage as any of the customs we more readily celebrate."

PAP's Bishan-Toa Payoh MP Cai Yinzhou wrote in a Facebook post that, in light of many residents' disappointment about the dubbing choice, he had filed parliamentary questions to the Ministry of Digital Development and Information (MDDI) to clarify the decision.

"I ask this as language carries culture. Dialects and language nuances are part of how stories are told and remembered," he said.

In a Straits Times forum, local filmmakers Eric Khoo and Jack Neo called for a relaxation of the policy altogether, calling it "outdated".

MDDI attributed the decision to dub the movie on Jun. 22 as part of the government's longstanding policy to promote Mandarin as one of the nation's four official languages.

"This has helped to strengthen Mandarin proficiency across generations and facilitate communication among Chinese Singaporeans from different dialect backgrounds," the statement said.

That is very true.

But 'facilitating communication' takes on different meanings depending on who you ask. For my grandma, who was much too poor to have an education and much too old to learn a new language in 1979, restricting her dialect meant taking away her ability to use the only form of communication she knew.

This continues even today.

A Teochew watching a Teochew film...in Mandarin

My grandma watched the Mandarin-dubbed version of "Dear You" on its opening day on Jun. 18 after failing to secure tickets from the first slate of Teochew releases.

When I asked for her thoughts on it, it was not to my surprise that she said she failed to understand a majority of the dialogue.

The most memorable parts of the film to her were its visual aspects, including the architecture of the share house where the protagonist lived and the streets of Siam.

It dawned on me that without her familiar language, images became the only way she could form an emotional connection with the story, much like the characters' practice of sending photographs alongside letters they couldn't read.

Asked what would have made the film better, my grandma's response was: "I think the Teochew version would have been much clearer."

Nuances and sentiments

The irony was not lost on me that a film intended to celebrate the contributions of early Chinese settlers in Southeast Asia had excluded that very group, all because of a language barrier.

It was not just words that had been lost in translation, but the sentiments that came with them.

Being fortunate enough to catch both versions of the film, I found an unassuming 30-second scene in the second half of the film that best illustrated this imbalance.

As the male protagonist set off on sea in his new fishing business alongside other Teochews, the group began reciting a once-famous Chinese nursery rhyme.

It loosely translates as such:

One whorl sits neatly.

Two whorls walk on foot.

Three whorls have rice to cook.

Four whorls no rice to cook.

Five whorls have five fields.

Six whorls split their hearts,

Seven whorls bring seven benefits.

Eight whorls bring begging.

Nine whorls, nine peace and safety.

Ten whorls can make you a high-ranking official.

The rhyme was a superstition that a person's whorls (fingerprints) can determine their fates.

Originating in Chaoshan, Guangdong, it also captured a familiarity with the hardship faced by immigrants in that generation, like the protagonist, my grandma and her father.

Yet it flew over my grandma's head when recited in Mandarin, arguably for sounding too literal.

To me, it was also much less poetic.

A policy that needs an update?

As Cai said, dialects and language nuances are part of how stories are told and remembered. It might also capture emotions that mainstream languages cannot convey.

Take for example Manpower Minister Tan See Leng's quotation of a Cantonese movie phrase during a parliamentary Committee of Supply debate on Mar. 7, 2025:

@mothershipsg Manpower minister Tan See Leng used a Cantonese movie quote to describe his interactions with NCMP Leong Mun Wai in Parliament #singapore #sgnews #tiktoksg #fypsg #parliament ♬ original sound - Mothership

The moment became a debated point about the use of dialects in parliament, but it remains arguably true that there was no more transparent way to convey Tan's message.

Much like how "delicious" doesn't begin to capture the essence of "shiok", or how I wouldn't share the same closeness to my grandma if I had never learnt to speak in Teochew.

The Infocomm Media Development Authority (IMDA) announced on Jun. 22 that it would take a "more flexible approach" to the screening of dialect films in Singapore in light of recent calls from the onset of "Dear You".

Judging from the two slates of Teochew ticket sell-outs so far, that flexibility will hopefully bear fruit.

I, for one, say go for it.

Or as my grandmother would say, "Ga Ga Kia".