August 2026 has been a revealing month for the region’s movie industry, especially in its use of technology, particularly artificial intelligence (AI). In Singapore, a purely AI‑generated movie called Trace Project screened once on National Day. Just four days earlier, a very different film, Niu Lai, premiered in China across 245 theatres.
The AI-Powered Trace Project
The 64-minute Trace Project is produced by FizzDragon, which describes itself as an “AI-powered creative platform” based in Singapore. The movie was touted to “represent a new kind of resource and a new competitive advantage” using AI-generated content, or AIGC.
Yet the reception was anything but enthusiastic. Reviews were scathing, with critics and audiences alike dismissing the film as soulless, gimmicky, and emotionally hollow. While FizzDragon acknowledged that the “technology is far from perfect”, and that it was produced “with a small team of about 10 people across three countries, using AIGC tools to keep costs low”, the main criticism seems to be
This isn’t FizzDragon’s first attempt at such a scale. In 2025, they released Pirate Queen: Zheng Yi Sao, which they claim is “the world’s first AIGC feature film”, in a collaboration with Malaysia’s Future Studios.
FizzDragon is headed by Chen Zhuo, also known as Pax Chen, who claims to be “a well-known science fiction writer” who “even won Singapore’s National Golden Point Award”. (A quick scan of the Golden Point Award website reveals that a Chen Zhuo received an “Honourable Mention” in the Chinese Short Story category in 2023).
The Very Imperfect Niu Lai
Earlier that same week, China witnessed the premiere of Niu Lai, a film that could not have been more different. Produced over five years by a mother‑son duo on a reported budget of less than $200, it was derided online for its crude graphics and awkward sound. The mother-and-son team were the sole crew members, voice actors, and even produced the music. At first, it only earned 7,168 yuan (about $1,457) in the first nine days of its release, from just 236 tickets sold. Less than two weeks after its release, the number of theatres showing it were reduced to 4.
But ironically, as clips of the low-quality animation began to go viral on social media, it captured the imagination as an example of “so bad it’s good” filmmaking. Within weeks of release, Niu Lai had grossed more than 36.9 million yuan, about $7.5 million, outperforming Hollywood blockbusters in Chinese theatres.
The numbers reflect a return on investment exceeding 100,000 times its cost, especially noteworthy considering it was achieved without any studio backing or paid marketing campaigns.
Audiences flocked to cinemas out of morbid curiosity, turning what started out as ridicule into revenue. The irony is that the very qualities which drew derision, the jerky animation, uneven sound, awkward pacing, confusing plot, became the film’s selling points. Viewers wanted to see for themselves what the fuss was about, and in doing so, they transformed a micro‑budget oddity into a cultural phenomenon.
Imperfection As Proof Of Humanity
Niu Lai‘s triumph is not only financial. It arrives at a moment when the entertainment industry is increasingly shaped by generative AI. Against this backdrop, its flaws became evidence of human effort. The sincerity of its sometimes-confusing narrative, of a timid calf embarking on a surreal dream journey with a skylark, shone through its rough edges, reminding audiences that some imperfections are a form of authenticity.
By contrast, Trace Project demonstrated the opposite. For all its appearance of technical polish, its flaws became proof of how generic and soulless products cannot ensure audience engagement. Its lack of AI-generated precision was exacerbated by the absence of human warmth, and the backlash underscored how audiences still value the time and effort that goes into human storytelling. Where Niu Lai’s imperfections became endearing proof of human grit, Trace Project’s perfection became alienating.
Lessons For Singapore’s Creative Economy
Singapore’s creative industries operate within a structured ecosystem of grants and subsidies, often favouring polished, export‑ready productions. Niu Lai challenges this orthodoxy. It demonstrates that originality and authenticity often matter more than presumed polish.
It also underscores virality as capital. In Singapore, where social media penetration is among the highest globally, irony and meme culture can be unexpectedly viable strategies for indie filmmakers seeking visibility. Of course, no creative individual should try to create something meme-worthy and expect success. There is often no consistent formula for virality, and clearly overt attempts are often rejected.
As Singapore invests heavily in AI innovation, the contrasting fortunes of Trace Project and Niu Lai remind us that audiences may still crave the raw and imperfect over a technically perfect attempt. The juxtaposition is striking. Singapore’s AI experiment was designed to impress with its novelty but ended up alienating viewers. China’s flawed, human‑made film was expected to fail, but instead captured imaginations.
The lessons of Niu Lai are not prescriptive. Its success is lightning in a bottle, unlikely to be replicated. But as we head towards an AI-generated future, it is a reminder that human imperfection is still valued over AI-generated inaccuracies.
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