Star Awards 2025: A Glittering Tribute That Missed the Deeper Mark

The Star Awards 2025 was nothing short of grand. As Singapore’s most iconic television awards ceremony turned 30, it had every reason to bask in nostalgia, star power, and emotional throwbacks. Christopher Lee swept the night. Chow Yun Fat and Sean Lau flew in. Kit Chan sang. Tears flowed. Cameras flashed.

But beneath the polished sheen of pageantry, a critical question remains: Did Star Awards 2025 truly elevate the cultural and creative standards of Singapore's media industry—or did it merely reflect a longing for the past, unable to project a meaningful vision for the future?

Nostalgia As Safe Territory

This year’s theme, “Walking Through Time Together,” leaned heavily into nostalgia. The orchestra played old drama themes. Veteran stars were trotted out like museum pieces. And the most celebrated productions—like Kill Sera Sera and Unforgivable—relied on proven formulas: crime thrillers, melodrama, and familiar archetypes.

Yes, it was a warm hug to long-time fans. But it also showed a worrying reluctance to champion new artistic directions. Where were the daring experimental works? The bold narratives reflecting the complexities of modern Singapore? The voices of the next generation?

Celebrating Stars, Not Storytelling

Christopher Lee’s quadruple win (Best Actor, Host, Programme, and Special Achievement) is well-deserved—he remains a pillar of charisma and discipline. But his dominance also highlights a deeper issue: Singapore's industry is still heavily reliant on a handful of aging stars.

Jessica Hsuan’s Best Actress win—while a commendable performance—also exposed a paradox. She isn’t a Singaporean. She was barely on local screens. Why then, was the highest acting accolade not given to a homegrown talent? In rewarding a foreign actress at the country’s top media awards, are we admitting that our own talent pool lacks depth?

Hosting Woes & Production Missteps

The biggest talking point post-show? Not the awards. Not the performances. But how poorly the show was run. Reddit and social media lit up with complaints—awkward transitions, technical gaffes, missed mic cues, and most of all, inexperienced hosting. Chantalle Ng’s debut as co-host was harshly judged, and while one could argue she deserves grace, the criticisms weren’t unfounded.

Singapore is more than capable of professional-grade productions. So why do we keep seeing national-level shows fall apart live? It’s not just about embarrassment—it’s about the signal we’re sending: that mediocrity is acceptable as long as the celebrities show up.

Cultural Responsibility: The Missing Link

The Star Awards carries immense symbolic weight. It is Mediacorp’s flagship event, a rare moment when the media industry gets to look in the mirror. But instead of asking “What stories are we telling?” or “Whose voices are we empowering?”, the show still asks, “Who’s the most popular?” and “What makes for good ratings?”

There was little space for indie creators, documentary storytellers, bilingual experimentation, or content that truly reflects the multicultural, rapidly evolving reality of Singapore. The content that wins awards shapes what producers greenlight. If all we reward are nostalgic soap operas and glitzy variety shows, we cannot be surprised when creative stagnation sets in.

A Missed Opportunity for Cultural Growth

In its 30th year, Star Awards 2025 should have been a moment of cultural reckoning—an opportunity to shift from glitz to substance, to showcase Singapore’s evolution not just in fame, but in form.

Instead, it stayed safe. Reverent. Predictable.

And while fans were treated to touching moments and teary speeches, the show ultimately did little to push the boundaries of what Singaporean media can—and should—aspire to be.

As we move into the next decade of Singapore’s cultural development, we must ask:

Do we want to be known as a city that throws great parties for its past heroes, or one that actively nurtures daring, diverse, and dynamic creators?

Until the Star Awards—and the system it represents—chooses the latter, the event may remain a beautiful relic of nostalgia, rather than a bold platform of artistic progress.