An amusement park that’s closing. A man that’s dying. A choir director who’s hiding. Loke has just sold his house to finance his daughter’s education in America and moved into government housing, where he meets a group of older oddballs.



The housing is fine, actually. Just...there is a sense that the characters won’t have much of a future here. But that does not mean the place is barren. Lies, for instance, flourish in WONDERLAND. Loke is lying to his daughter. His daughter lies to him. Tan, the choir director, lies to Loke (and his own daughter...). But when Loke needs help translating correspondence with his daughter and vice versa, Tan and Loke form a reluctant friendship. This puts Tan in the unfortunate position of deciding how, or even if, he should relay bad news from abroad. For lies in a place without much of a future are not cowardly nor malicious. They are, in fact, an offering of love, a way to create a version of a world that’s just a little nicer.



As the film progresses, Tan recruits the elderly oddballs to help create an elaborate lie for Loke. And in the process, these people, these forgotten relics, come to life, their skills on display like the amusement park - lit up, colourful, happy to offer some fleeting alternative to reality.