Six crazy hours in the chaotic, loud and gloriously tacky world of Cambodian cosplay
The big guns are coming up front for the finale. Flown in from Bangkok are three of Thailand’s top cosplayers and, from the crowd’s reaction, you know these guys are rock stars. Did I say guys? Because I ain’t so sure. Determining gender isn’t straightforward here. There’s a liquid sort of androgyny, but it’s females dressed as males, full circle from Shakespeare’s boys dressed as girls.
First up is ‘Irvy’. She twirls, jabs and punches through a curiously sexy-unsexy dance routine. S/he’s a fighter, Lara Croft in the flesh, her whole body girdled in leather straps on top of sober white jodhpurs and a chemise. Every inch of flesh is covered up. Singing and dancing to electro-metal, the other Thais ‘Seiz’ and ‘Heyleydia’ are all in black. It’s a look somewhere between Michael Jackson in his Bad phase and the Gestapo in platform jackboots.I have no idea what’s going on.
This is the Phnom Penh Cosplay Convention. For the uninitiated, ‘cosplayers’ imitate heroes and villains from anime films or manga comics: quintessentially Japanese cartoon dramas set in virtual fantasy worlds of sword, sorcery and science fiction. The word ‘cosplay’ is a portmanteau of ‘costume’ and ‘play.’ Simply put, it’s dressing up. Yet these kids are not affirming some cyber-punk-gothic concept of individuality. They’re in character, someone else, someone other, someone fantastic.
There’s clearly been a raid on the central market wig store, for example. Bobbing among the gaggle of heads in the university hall, there’s orange wigs, purple wigs and a nasty shade of fluorescent pink. They are feathered, fringed and otherwise customised: one badass has turquoise ponytails down to her waist, a pair of waterfalls gushing from her ears. A few more have a gastric shade of yellow, flared like sunrays.
And it’s not just the nylon hairpieces. It’s gym slips, stockings and garters; kimonos, leather straps and stiletto heels; swords, battleaxes and cardboard laser guns galore. A lot of thigh is on show. Inexplicably, there’s a boy in a shell suit and a tennis racket, looking for all the world like a Khmer Noel Gallagher. I spot a girl with an eye patch, too. But by the way people are poking at it I think she’s actually down with that conjunctivitis that’s been going around.
I’m at the Cambodia-Japan Cooperation Centre at the Royal University of Phnom Penh. Since 1992 the Land of the Rising Sun has lavished over $2 billion on the Kingdom of Wonder, but I’m not sure cosplay is exactly the result the Japanese had in mind. Call it, if you will, ‘cultural exchange’.
There’s a sign outside that says ‘stay quiet please’, but the hallowed groves of academe be damned. Today this joint is rocking to a J-pop soundtrack and the yelps of 500 cosplay fans. I approach ‘Krisna’ and ‘Nita’, two second-year economics students decked out as saucy French maids: they assure me they’re playing “café shop assistants”.
It seems a pricey hobby. ‘Krisna’ corrects me: “Actually I got the costume for two dollars and made the hat by hand.” She continues, after posing for photos with an eager series of young chaps. “We do it to be creative. My family thinks it’s kind of foreign, but I don’t care.” Good for you! Go, girl! “Though we’ve had some strange looks from boys,” she adds conspiratorially, before I get too comfortable with this.
In a conservative culture, the nicknames and the costumes are a way to momentarily shed your identity. But there is undoubtedly a sexuality about cosplay, too. At best it’s baby-doll innocence. At worst, it’s a Riverside sexpat fantasy come true. There’s significantly more people here in civvies watching the show than taking part and wearing the gear. Inevitably a lot of the voyeurs are sporting zits and bum fluff: harmless nerds having a day off from masturbation and World of Warcraft. But I’m very glad to see almost no one over the age of 22. The sexpats are thankfully notable for their absence.
Chanrithy is an IT student, of all things. Why are there far more girls in costume? “There’s not many boys in cosplay,” he confirms. “Maybe because the boys are embarrassed; maybe because many anime characters look like boys, but if you’re brave enough to wear the costume, the characters you play can show off your true personality.”
The live show gets started and the performances on stage are varied, to say the least. A couple of girls waggle about halfheartedly in a representation of what I take to be marionettes. Another group enters stage right, shambolically. “That is what I call ART!” shouts one of the performers. A play fight breaks out and shirts are ripped off (hysterical whoops from the audience) to reveal enviously perfect sets of abs.
Alex Meister, a web and graphic designer from Switzerland, couldn’t come in costume (“The tailor said it would ready in three days, it’s now eight…”) but at least he’s honest about his motivations. “Mainly I’m here because there’s a lot of cute girls, but on the other hand it’s nice to have superheroes – and to dress up as one you like.”
Now there’s a boy in a pink kimono on stage, who whips out what I’m horrified to observe is a real samurai sword. He proceeds to chop up a cucumber in some profound kind of innuendo. Or so I reckon. It looks bloody dangerous, but there’s not a St John’s Ambulance van to be seen anywhere. The crowd is having a ball.
Alex doesn’t believe that cosplay is about sexuality, though in the darker recesses of the Internet, of course, there’s enough anime porn to melt your manga. But check out any of the Facebook pages and groups that bring the cosplayers together and the chat is as innocent as can be.
The three Thai stars come on. Not only are ‘Irvy’, ‘Seiz’ and ‘Heyleydia’ dressed in character, but for each of them there’s four or five Cambodian lookalikes in cheaper variations of the exact same outfits. You have to wonder if they’re based on the original anime cartoons or the real-life cosplay idols.So there’s even a kind of fandom within the fandom. Talk about subculture.
After they’re done, the local cosplayers are called onto the stage for their 15 seconds of fame and a quick jaunt down the mini-catwalk. Catwalk is the word: kitten ears and kitten heels are prevalent.
Some cosplayers on the red carpet can’t conceal their natural shyness, but most seize their moment, striking anime poses and strutting their stuff to an increasingly lively crowd. Hemmed in tight between the stage and the audience, I’m hoping there’s no mosh pit malarkey. I don’t want one of those high heels through my eye. Especially from that girl with a polystyrene axe. I’m also concerned about the plus-size ninjas and their baking-foil swords.
The highlights of the day are over, but everyone still wants their photo taken with the Thai trio. There’s a bit of lighthearted shoving going on and promoter Negibose Kondo is stressing. Part manager, part presenter, part bodyguard, he and his interpreter are doing a sterling job keeping some electrified kids in check, but everyone still gets 30 seconds for an Instagram snap with the best-dressed chicks in town today. Negibose has taken the cosplay convention around Southeast Asia and this is his third time in Cambodia. “We’re hoping the number of fans will increase in Cambodia,” he says. “In Thailand, there’s maybe 10,000 cosplayers now.”
Fear not. Cosplay won’t be taking over just yet. There’s only a few hundred members of the handful of Cambodian anime Facebook groups and this is only the second such convention in the country. “But they’ll need to find a bigger place next time,” notes Meister. “This one’s full and it’s basically just like my high-school gym.”
Cosplay superstar Heleydia takes a break from the groupies to talk to me. Like most of the cosplay fans here, she – she really is a she; I’ve figured it out – is a student too, but by night she’s an anime God. Goddess?
Having been to Myanmar, Laos and the cradle of cosplay in Japan, what does she think of the crowd here in Phnom Penh? “It’s amazing! This event has been really fun and there’s not a big difference between the Thai scene and Cambodia: it’s same same.” The Nazi-cum-prince-of-pop outfit (complete with the white gloves) is from “Akira, a character in a game” which solves that mystery once and for all. Sort of.
And what’s it like to be a Southeast Asian cosplay star? “It’s just my hobby, but I love it!” she bubbles. “Do whatever you want to do! When I get old, I’ll still be doing this.”
Heyleydia giggles, runs her fingers through her silver wig, and teeters back on platform boots to the waiting fans.