Anthony Chen's 'We Are All Strangers': A Reflection on the Evolving Singapore Dream

Singapore, Singapore Aug 13, 2026 ALN: [SINGAPORE] Local film-makers have been worrying about the Singapore Dream for almost as long as there has been a modern Singapore film industry. This concern reflects broader societal anxieties regarding economic mobility, social status, and the evolving aspirations of Singaporeans in a rapidly changing landscape.

When the film industry stirred back to life in the late 1990s after decades of being in a coma, the film that kick-started its commercial revival was Money No Enough (1998), the Jack Neo blockbuster, the title of which distilled a national anxiety into three words. This film resonated with audiences, as it encapsulated the struggles of ordinary Singaporeans who were hustling for the high life while discovering, repeatedly, that the high life remained firmly out of reach for most. The film struck a chord because it portrayed the challenges of economic survival in a society that had long championed meritocracy and the notion that hard work would lead to success.

In the decades that followed, local film-makers kept returning to essentially the same question: What does it mean to achieve the Singapore Dream? Colin Goh and Woo Yen Yen’s Singapore Dreaming (2006) explored the middle-class hunger for the condominium, car, and other badges of arrival, revealing the emotional toll that such aspirations could take. Wee Li Lin’s Gone Shopping (2007) found loneliness beneath the pleasures of conspicuous consumption, suggesting that material wealth does not necessarily equate to happiness or fulfillment.

Anthony Chen’s Ilo Ilo (2013), Ken Kwek’s Unlucky Plaza (2014), and Yeo Siew Hua’s A Land Imagined (2018) looked even further down the economic ladder towards the migrant worker, highlighting the often-overlooked struggles of those who contribute to Singapore's economy yet remain marginalized in society. These films collectively reflect a critical examination of the Singapore Dream, questioning who gets to partake in its benefits and at what cost.

Nearly three decades after Money No Enough, Chen returns to the question of the Singapore Dream with his latest film, We Are All Strangers. The difference is that the dream itself has changed. The context within which young Singaporeans aspire to succeed has shifted dramatically, influenced by both local and global factors.

A changed Singapore

In Money No Enough, the characters were scrambling to get ahead in a country that still believed upward mobility was very possible. The film captured a sense of hope and determination among its characters, who were willing to work hard to achieve their dreams. In contrast, We Are All Strangers presents a more complex narrative. The younger characters are growing up in a vastly richer Singapore, the global cinematic image of which is unrealistically defined by the extravagant wealth in Crazy Rich Asians (2018). This film, while celebrating Singapore’s multiculturalism and success, also inadvertently highlights the stark economic disparities that exist within the nation.

In today’s Singapore, the high life is more conspicuous than ever, but still inaccessible to many. The gap between the affluent and the less fortunate is increasingly pronounced, and this social divide has become a prominent theme in contemporary discourse. At the centre of We Are All Strangers is Junyang (Koh Jia Ler), a young man living with his widowed father Boon Kiat (Andi Lim), a hawker who works long hours in a kopitiam. Junyang’s aspirations reflect the pressures and expectations faced by many young Singaporeans today. He wants no part of his father’s life, which he views as a struggle for survival rather than a pathway to success. Like many of his peers, he desires to move faster and further to make money, buy private property, and build a life more comfortable than the one his father has known.

And so, he hustles. Junyang becomes a property agent, renaming himself Steve, and learns to sell luxurious apartments to people several rungs above him on the economic ladder. This desire to ascend the social hierarchy is a common narrative among Singaporean youth, who often feel compelled to pursue high-paying careers and material success as markers of achievement. Later on, other schemes and opportunities beckon, each offering another possible shortcut into the life he believes he should be living. This relentless pursuit of wealth and status raises important questions about the nature of ambition and the societal values that shape it.

What makes We Are All Strangers interesting is that writer-director Chen does not ridicule that desire. Nor does he turn Junyang into a simple cautionary tale about youthful impulse. Instead, he presents a nuanced exploration of aspiration and its implications. He understands that in Singapore, wanting the high life has become a natural-born instinct for many. However, this instinct is often accompanied by a sense of disillusionment, as the stark reality of economic inequality becomes increasingly apparent.

A smaller ambition

In contrast to Junyang’s ambitions, Chen creates a foil in Bee Hwa (Yeo Yann Yann), a Malaysian “beer auntie” working in the same kopitiam as Junyang’s father. She is older, an immigrant, and unlike Junyang, has little interest in reinventing herself. Her aspirations are modest; she wants companionship and a place she can call home. As a Malaysian living in Singapore, even these things are not entirely secure, reflecting the precarious existence faced by many migrant workers in the country. Bee Hwa’s character highlights the complexities of identity and belonging in a society that often prioritizes economic success over social inclusion.

Junyang, who was born into Singapore’s success story, cannot stop looking upwards. In contrast, Bee Hwa, arriving from outside it, is simply looking for somewhere to belong. This juxtaposition serves to illustrate the diverse experiences of individuals within Singapore’s socio-economic landscape. Yeo plays her character with tremendous honesty and an absence of self-pity, delivering a performance that resonates deeply with audiences. It is the kind of beautifully inhabited performance that has become her speciality, and she gradually becomes the emotional ballast of the film.

Around Yeo and Koh, Chen constructs a rare portrait of working-class Singapore that couldn’t be further removed from the polished cityscape sold to tourists and investors. His Singapore is one of hawker stalls, cramped flats, precarious work, and people constantly calculating what they can afford. This depiction challenges the dominant narratives often associated with Singapore’s rapid economic growth and development, shedding light on the struggles faced by those who are often overlooked in the pursuit of progress.

At 157 minutes, We Are All Strangers is looser and more melodramatic than Ilo Ilo and Wet Season (2019) – the two earlier films of his Growing Up trilogy – and its accumulation of family crises can occasionally feel overextended. However, its sprawl also gives the film the texture of ordinary life: messy, repetitive, and resistant to neat conclusions. Chen’s storytelling reflects the complexities of human experiences, where aspirations and realities often collide in unexpected ways.

Chen’s point is not that aspiration itself is foolish. Rather, the old promise that hard work will reliably produce upward mobility is beginning to look increasingly fragile. In a society where economic disparities are widening, the belief that anyone can achieve the Singapore Dream through sheer determination is being called into question. We Are All Strangers invites audiences to reflect on the evolving nature of the Singapore Dream and the diverse experiences that shape it, ultimately challenging the notion of what it means to succeed in contemporary Singapore.