Last Friday was the 3rd anniversary of Neva and I as a couple.

Wow.

3 years.

I can’t believe it’s been that long. And yet, at the same time, I can feel the weight of each day, and three years sounds about right.

My thanks to everyone who greeted and texted us. We ate and ate and ate, because it was also the day that Neva became a full-fledged director for Mary Kay, so aside from our lunch and dinner we had a small handaan at her dad’s in Marikina, where she played with her dog Mittens. And if you read her blog, she’s downplaying it a little. Her deadline to get the directorship was March, but since she reached her quota in February, she gets an all-expenses paid trip to Dallas this July. So go over and congratulate her on her blog, which she’s been updating like a madwoman.

We met up with Quark, Mich, and Chris later that night, and then went to a strip club/brothel named Pegasus. It’s fairly popular, the one on Quezon Avenue? I’d always wanted to go there in high school, but I guess it had to wait until after I graduated college. It was fairly interesting, but that’s for another post.

Also came up with this: if you’re in a relationship, can you imagine something worse than accidentally killing the one you love? Is it worse than hearing that they’ve been raped and murdered, for example? I mean, they’d both be events out of your control, but would it be worse if the death were by your hands, albeit inadvertently? If you can, post a comment. I’m curious what’s worse than that.

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Blogger’s been screwing up lately. Not that that’s a surprise to anyone. Neva said they’ve been bought by Google, so that may be one of the reasons. And if it’s not Blogger screwing up, it’s Haloscan. I blame Bush.

I also blame him for the fact that last Tuesday, me and Neva went to two malls looking for Hero only to find out that movies were changed a day early because it was a holiday. Damn, I really wanted to see it a second time. Now it’s only playing in far-away malls like SM City Fairview and Manila. When you’re all set for Hero it’s depressing to be confronted with Treasure Planet and Legend of the Crocodile.

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I’m disappointed with this year’s Eiga Sai. The annual free film fest is usually the best of the bunch (and one of the first), with actual themed programming (most of these festivals just get what films are available). Last year or so it was all animated films, etc. This year was intriguing: it’s focused on one director, Kiyoshi Kurosawa. I’d never heard of him prior to the festival, but was intrigued because he was called the “new face of Japanese horror.” And for the country that gave us Ringu, that’s not to be taken lightly. But the thing is, none of these films are horror. The closest is Cure, which made him famous, but it’s a serial killer film. And the rest of the films they selected just aren’t that good. So while he may be a celebrated director (he does about 3 films a year, and will be writing one for Takashi Miike to direct), the 6 movies showing at Eiga Sai this year don’t really cast him in a nice light. All the movies I’ve seen so far have been slow, boring, and with not much happening. Hopefully the last two will prove better, since they sound the most intriguing.

I’ve also been watching the movies alone, which is an experience I’m not used to as much anymore. I mean, I watch movies at home alone all the time, but I haven’t watched a movie in a theater alone in a while. But I used to, a lot, especially in the first 2 years of college, when these embassy-sponsored free film festivals started popping up (usually at Shangri-La Plaza), and the lines would stretch to the parking lot.

This year I’ve noticed some sad things: first, that because the screenings are free you sometimes attract people I’d rather were deterred from going. Like drivers killing time and use the theater as an airconditioned place to sleep in, and noisy squatter schoolkids cutting class who can’t shut the fuck up and giggle and laugh all the damn time. The absolute worst is loner creepy men and women (usually overweight, old, with gray long hair and slippers) who talk out loud when they’re all alone, and just repeat whatever’s happening onscreen. Makes my teeth gnash. I also hate it when gay men are noisy, because it’s obvious they just want the attention; they try so hard to come up with something witty to say, and it’s no accident that their voice is raised so that other people will hear their supposedly-priceless bon mots. The second sad thing I noticed is that if the film’s really quiet, like most Japanese films are, you can actually hear the buses’ horns on Shaw Blvd. Looks Sounds like Shangri-La’s theaters need a little renovating.

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If you have a chance, drop by the Cinema Paraiso exhibit at the NCCA building in Intramuros. There are a lot of interesting things on display, like the original Tiyanak doll, a couple of spooky busts and face masks (one of Dolphy, another of Christopher De Leon) that reminded me of Ring 2, the original handwritten script of Aguila by Eddie Romero, scripts of Ishmael Bernal’s Pagdating Sa Dulo (which won the FAMAS Award that year for best screenplay, I discovered), Peque Gallaga’s Orapronobis, Lino Brocka’s Maynila Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag, Jose Lacaba’s script for Segurista, a hilarious photo-essay on kissing in Philippine cinema, really cool promotional t-shirts for the movies City After Dark, Bagets, Sister Stella L, and Kisapmata, posters for Maynila and Raymond Red’s Pepe, which may be my favorite Pinoy film poster ever. Joey took some fantastic photos with his new camera, so I hope he gets to upload them soon.

It continues to sadden me that our Golden Age of cinema occurred 3 decades ago, and we haven’t come close since. Especially going through the exhibit, I kept thinking, how sad that we can’t even preserve the best films of our country’s history. They’re hardly on home video, and their existing prints are deteriorating. Where are the film restorers/preservation societies? I wish these films would get DVD releases, so that they could be sent to international schools and festivals. I wish that book I saw on Lino Brocka in the exhibit would be back in print, or at least online. I wish we had our version of the Newmarket Press publishing notable shooting scripts with supplementary material. Reprinting posters for schools and film enthusiasts.

What’s worse: that our Golden Age was 30 years ago or that we’re doing nothing to preserve what made it our Golden Age? I really want to see some of these films, but they’re inaccessible. And I live here! Imagine the frustration of people in other countries interested in Philippine movies of the 70s. The ones we could be proud of. Christ, and these are just the 70s! We can’t find clean copies of Pagdating Sa Dulo, for example, Ishmael Bernal’s first film, which was made in the same year as fucking STAR WARS!!! Sorry, I’m getting upset.

May I also note that it really fucking pissed me off to discover that Mike De Leon and Clodualdo Del Mundo’s script for Bayaning Third World was published by La Salle (De Leon’s an Atenean! Christ, he’s got relatives teaching there!).

Lia gave a nice talk at Quark’s class today, on editing. She’d prepared a lot of notes, but didn’t refer to them too often; maybe she just made them to ease her nervousness. But they’re good notes; I was reading them after her talk and there are things in there that I’d forgotten about, or didn’t think of. Sometimes you think you know things, but then there are always little things that make you go, “Ah. Interesting…” and then more possibilities emerge. I’m lucky to have friends like that. Take Gabby, for example. He just had a screening of In the Mood for Love tonight at Brash, a fundraising thing for Something I Forgot. He’s a go-getter, this Mr. Narciso. Active in a lot of things, not just his job. I remember that in our carpool in high school, he was the only other person who had more than a superficial interest and appreciation for stories and their telling. So I’d tell him story ideas and he’d tell me his and we’d share opinions, impressions, reactions. It helped to pass the time on ungodly trips home stuck in Edsa traffic, pre-C5. And in these conversations, I’d get ideas. For what we’re talking about, sometimes for something else, but the thing I’m getting to is that it’s nice to have other people who you can bounce ideas off of, or who can show you things you don’t know.

So anyway, 13 people showed up for the screening, which is good since an average Brash screening has about the same number, and this was all Gabby’s doing. And they liked the movie, and asked questions, and even went through some of the features, and two of them might even buy the DVD. And any money I can send Wong Kar Wai’s way, I’d be glad to assist.

Oh, and I have to mention this. Joey and I were outside talking, and he was taking a few pictures with his digital camera so the flash was going off every now and then. Later, after the screening and after Joey'd left, Gabby tells me that the flashes occurred right at the scene where Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung were caught in the rain, making for an unexpected, romantic, and possibly eerie "effect." Ahh, serendipity...

Saw Harvey, Carlo, and Ernan last Friday night, to talk about a possible project. The actual talking about the project was quick, we mostly had dinner, and caught up with each other. I was glad to finally meet She, and Harvey lent me some more Blade of the Immortal books, which I’m reading now and enjoying. Carlo’s project sounds interesting and insane at the same time: I haven’t quite got my head wrapped around it yet, but maybe things’ll be clearer when we get to talk about it at length. I just know it’s a relationship/romance between two monkeys that evolve through I think four different phases. You can’t say it’s been done before, that’s for sure. I’m interested in what possibilities he sees in it to make it a full-fledged project…

I also saw Justin of Ciudad wearing shorts in a mall last Sunday. In Rustans. I greet him now as he’s enjoying his action-filled job at Accenture. He was on his way to buy a book: the hardcover Illustrated A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. I remembered that I had it and recounted to him how I’d begun the book twice but still hadn’t finished it. Started the first time when I’d gotten it in high school, got derailed by a hell week, and then forgot about it. Unearthed it from being buried under other unread books in college, took another go at it, almost finised it this time (even took notes which are still in one of my notebooks), and then got derailed by another hell week. I hope I get to read that book before I die. (It’s a great book, by the way)

Neva’s been updating her blog, and even changed her template, so go take a look when you’ve got the time.

Mich sent me what now has to be one of my favorite text messages ever: “Quick help what happened in first lord of the rings i’m forced to watch second now with carol’s family.”

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Am currently going through a lovely retrospective called Peanuts: The Art of Charles M. Schulz. It’s edited and designed by one of my favorite graphic designers, Chip Kidd, and some of the archival strips contained in the book come from his personal collection as well as the collection of one of my favorite cartoonists, Chris Ware. It is, of course, beautifully designed, and I was lucky enough to get a brand-new copy for almost 50% off the cover price. I read a few pages every night before I go to sleep, and I’m falling in love with Peanuts all over again. Peanuts, Snoopy, Charlie Brown and the gang, I grew up reading them, but never really thought about them deeply. I’d laugh at a lot of the strips, enjoy myself, but I treated it as just another routine. It’s like background noise; it’s always there, we’re just so used to it that we don’t pay attention to it anymore. And we end up taking it for granted. So when Charles Schulz died, it was a shock to everyone. We all thought Peanuts would last forever (it will, don’t worry). Schulz was a consummate draftsman, and worked non-stop once he had syndication. His very last strip was published the day after his death.

The book really is amazing; there are pages from his sketchbook while he was in the war, and it’s a little surreal looking at his drawings of adults and “regular” people when none appeared in any Peanuts strips (or the TV specials). It contains also the only occasion that Charlie Brown flew a kite without it being eaten by the Kite-Eating Tree (unfortunately, it spontaneously combusts), the only occasion that Charlie Brown got to kick a football (because Lucy is nowhere in the vicinity), the only existing drawing of the Little Red-Headed Girl (based, apprarently, on a real-life unrequited love of Schulz’s), the first appearances of every character, and lots more. The only appearance of a character named Charlotte Braun. Early strips where the characters were shaped differently and had slightly different personalities. Charlie Brown, for example, was quite a prankster and ladies’ man. Snoopy’s head wasn’t disproportionate to his body, and he actually looked like a beagle. Lucy wasn’t mean. Snoopy was the first beagle on the moon. I’d completely forgotten that Charlie’s father’s occupation was a barber. I also got to see Schroeder, Lucy, Linus, and Sally as babies. The very first toys and licensed products. The cover of the first paperback book collecting the comic strips. The first few comic books (interiors not drawn by Schulz, I learned to my surprise). Characters who stopped appearing around the late 60s, like Violet, Shermy, and Patty (not Peppermint).

Going through the book you can slowly see his art style and sense of humor evolve. Not a few times have I laughed out loud, late in the evening, over a joke that might not seem so funny in others’ hands, but is dynamite when executed by Schulz’s deft timing and expressive line. His talent for facial expressions and body language is incredible.

One thing that takes me by surprise are the strips that aren’t just humorous, but have heart. One strip, for example, shows a young Lucy losing a balloon and ends with her almost in tears. The reader does as well. Charlie Brown probably has the most of these strips, what with his insecurities, his unprofessed love for the Little Red-Headed Girl, his seeming lack of skill at ANY sport, etc.

Around the time I was ending grade school, my mother gave me an old Peanuts paperback she had as a kid. This is a book that basically was published in the 50s, and still featured Schulz’s old style of drawing. It still had the old characters, and Snoopy still looked like a regular dog, no Woodstock in sight. I was amazed at the time, not just that my mom used to read comics as a kid, but because I never thought that Peanuts had looked anything unlike how I saw it in the newspaper everyday. To this day it’s one of my fondest gifts from her. It was probably the first time I realized that something like Peanuts had a history wholly separate from my existence.

I end with one of the sweetest, most profound statements ever to escape a child’s mouth:

“They say that opposites attract… She’s really something and I’m really nothing… How opposite can you get?” – Charlie Brown, 1963

Sorry, but Daredevil sucks. I really wanted to like it, because the book hasn't been this good in years, but it just disappointed me. It's certainly no Batman & Robin, but I don't know why they gave it to the director of Simon Birch. What's the point of admittedly good fight choreography if your shots don't show it, and your lighting's insufficient? And I know puns may sound alright in a script, but once you start speaking them out loud it just gets ridiculous. Michael Clarke Duncan's Kingpin doesn't come across as intellectually imposing at all, which is a shame because he's such a master strategist and tactician. Colin Farrell's Bullseye was the most consistently-entertaining character but even he, towards the end, started to disappoint with his, well, one-dimensionality. Elektra wasn't bad, but had none of the exotic mysterious qualities associated with the character. Ben Affleck played the same character he's been playing since forever. Favreau was comic relief. And it has the worst music cues of this year thus far. Can we make it any more obvious that we want this to be a franchise? From the schmaltzy Elektra-in-the-rain music to that hip-hop-song-whose-name-I-don't-know going "I'm an outlaw" upon Kingpin's first shot. Yes, we get the point, he's the bad guy.

6ixtynin9 surprisingly better than I expected. Some problems with the execution but overall interesting, with a good story. Even Thailand makes better movies than us. It also subscribes to this theory I have of what the future of cinema will be like, but I'm not telling.

Just saw Storytelling. Todd Solondz is a sick, sick man. I can't help but imagine that he really hates his characters (and thus, all people) sometimes.

Just spent the last half-hour or so looking like an idiot, laughing out loud at the hilarious online comic strip Get Your War On, which you must read. Go. Now. The bits with Voltron are my favorite ("Under God?").

Been busy with Pelikula at Lipunan, trying to watch as much as I can. Have so far seen El Crimen Del Padre Amaro, All About Lily Chou-Chou, Hush, Pagdating Sa Dulo, and parts of Titus. It's amazing that suddenly, there's back-to-back film festivals: practically right after Pelikula at Lipunan, Cinema Paraiso begins, also an NCCA event, and then eKsperimento around the 26th, at the same time as this year's Eiga Sai, which is focusing on one director. Unfortunately, Cinema Paraiso and eKsperimento both are in Intramuros. I don't even know how to get there, let alone how to traverse the maze that it is. Christ, I'm going to be destitute after this.

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Our helper has a better DVD player. It can play all regions, and PAL discs. Damn.

Last night's casualties included:

2 orders of Chicharon Bulaklak
1 Four Seasons
2 orders of Tuna Belly
1 Ripe Mango Shake
2 Garlic Rice
1 Sinigang Bangus
1 Chicken Fritters
1 glass of Red Wine
½ glass of Pale

Man was I full.

For some reason I am wondering how many couples broke up last night, and wish that I could have my own quick Amelie-montage of couples fighting, with me whispering the correct figure at the end.

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I have to admit that most of my Bush-hating comes from Steven Grant, and his column Master of the Obvious. It's at Comic Book Resources, and yes, deals with comics. However, it also deals with world politics, reviews, popular entertainment, etc. The man's well-informed. If you're curious, just check out his columns. There's been a section in each column on American politics for a long while now, so if that's all you're interested in reading give it a look-see. You'll find out all sorts of sordid things that Bush and Ashcroft have been pulling seemingly behind the scenes, because most of the American people are either ignorant (by which I mean not paying attention to how laws are literally being rewritten without their knowledge, which should never be the case in a democracy) or misguided. When I wrote one of my major papers in Political Science last year I pretty much used Master of the Obvious as my main source of info (it helps that Grant also notes his sources, some from Slate). Meanwhile I'll let you read this piece from the Onion, which as usual is funny but seems all too true:

Saddam Enrages Bush With Full Compliance
WASHINGTON, DC-President Bush expressed frustration and anger Monday over a U.N. report stating that Iraqi president Saddam Hussein is now fully complying with weapons inspections. "Enough is enough," a determined Bush told reporters. "We are not fooled by Saddam's devious attempts to sway world opinion by doing everything the U.N. asked him to do. We will not be intimidated into backing down and, if we have any say in the matter, neither will Saddam." Bush added that any further Iraqi attempt to meet the demands of the U.N. or U.S. will be regarded as "an act of war."

I sort of wish that Iraq would suddenly announce that they just ran out of all their oil. See how quickly Bush's hard-on for war disappears.

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Some interesting quotes from a Christopher Doyle interview I found:

"We break the record every year for film used in a Hong Kong film, and yet he discards 95% of it. And I don't care, because if the image doesn't hit the screen, it's still there. I had the visual, and the emotional, and the technical experience of having made that image, and I think that comes back on the screen."

I suppose I should explain this one a bit. See, Wong Kar-Wai doesn't really work with a script. He has a general plot, and basically comes up with scenes on a daily basis, and then allows improvisation and inspiration to affect the story's development. A lot of times he doesn't even know how they will end. In that sense his "filmmaking" is really done in post, the editing process, where he sculpts what will become his film. In other words, instead of building up, he removes what is extraneous. It's an expensive process, but his works are amazing, and very few people are allowed that liberty.

And here's one that made me laugh:

SAB - So in these movies- the guys have such incredible charm, like in Days of Being Wild, when Leslie says, "I'll remember this minute forever."

Chris - Yeah, "Give me one minute of your time... this is the beginning of the rest of your life' kind of thing.

SAB - Can you be that charming?

Chris - No, no, I wish. Those lines are all Wong Kar-Wai's lines. I don't know how he became so charming. (Laughter) That line was chosen by this film magazine as the line of the year, and you can imagine how many poor young girls in Hong Kong lost their virginity because of this line.

Happy Valentines to all lovers everywhere, young and old. You can get more of these heart-warming images here. For all you lovelorn types, and for those who just plain want a good laugh, please click here. It might take a while to load, but it's worth it. I particularly recommend it to Mich and Goldie. If you're not a lovelorn type, but still want to laugh, click here, especially if you hate Michael Jackson.

El Crimen De Padre Amaro kicked off the Pelikula at Lipunan film fest @ Megamall last Wednesday night. The fest is of course brought to you by Mowelfund, and this time they've tied up with the NCCA, which is celebrating National Arts Month. The film itself was just competent. I suspect that whatever acclaim/hype/buzz the film garnered is due mostly to the controversial subject matter, because I found the execution rather lacking. I don't see why it was nominated as Best Foreign Film (Mexico's representative). So I hope that Hero, deservingly nominated, kicks its ass. The screening was maddening, because first of all, things were ridiculously late. They only started letting people in (after "celebrities" and guests) 45 minutes AFTER the film was supposed to start. When Mowelfund savior Boots Anson-Roa gave a short introduction, she sort of mentioned that there would be some speeches from some guests (NCCA Undersecretary, Mexican Ambassador) and a lot of people audibly booed. The guests got the hint and kept all their speeches under a minute. More aggravating than that, however, was the fact that the airconditioning was turned off around halfway through the film. And by the last thirty minutes, it was really, uncomfortably hot. If you looked around you'd see almost everyone fanning themselves with some piece of paper. I really fucking got angry with that. What the fuck am I paying 100 pesos for?! And let's remember that 100 bucks is more expensive than the normal Megamall rate of 60. I really wanted to kick the shit out of someone after that screening. When we got out the first thing I wanted was a drink and a nice blast of airconditioning. Anyway, I calmed down some when we got some food and refreshment at Caltex, but I got a headache from the heat and headed home.

Just saw Volcano High again last night with Neva, who hadn't seen it yet. What a great film. And wonder of wonders, Neva's finally updated her blog.

On a more somber note, please read the recent nanotale of Richard Kadrey's, Crash Kiss. Wounds of Columbia aren't yet healed, but he handles it with his customary eye-opening insights, and gift for language. It's short, as are all his other nanotales, so you don't have any excuse.

Also, may I point you towards the Love Stories blog, which hasn't been updated in a while, but is still well worth a visit. Stories about love in whatever form (requited, familial, paternal, friendly, platonic, etc.), so long as they're true.

Great out-of-context quotes (some quite old):

Mich: Did you just spit?
Chris: I don’t swallow.

Mich: I’m so tired!
Me: Why?
Mich: I was supposed to do 150 guys, but they were so gay, so I just did mga 50.

(Me and Neva visit Mich at Fila, and see her driver, who has fever, in the lobby of the building)
Me: Manong, kamusta na sakit natin?
Mich’s driver: Ayan, nasa taas.

The only recent interesting things people have been searching for when accidentally visiting this blog are:

Billy Corgan + wife
Diva Plavalaguna porn

The rest are just Aubrey Miles nude, or variations thereof.

Happy birthday to Alexis, and belated happy birthday to Jenny de Dios.

Harvey says that Japanese anime has regularly outsourced some of its workload to Korean animation houses, which may account for how they were able to refine their methods and techniques. I also remembered that since Korea's where Rough Draft is housed, I probably shouldn't be as surprised as I am (see previous post). Rough Draft is one of the best animation houses in history, and their calling card seems to be not just fluid animation, but the ability to maintain the creator's specific style. They do The Simpsons, and the old Aeon Flux and Phantom 2040 series. So every frame of The Simpsons looks like it was hand-drawn by Matt Groening, but of course that's impossible, and every episode of Aeon Flux looks like it was hand-drawn by Peter Chung.

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And the Poveda Prom note is simply this: I never went to my prom (just the Senior Ball), Neva never went to hers, so it was our first prom. Unfortunately, it sucked. The emcees were charmless, and didn't realize their microphones were too far away from their mouths; the mobile sucked, so nobody was dancing; we didn't get the table we were promised, etc. But hell, we had a fairly good time. We danced. We talked. Good thing we were with friends. It was nice seeing all of us dressed up: all dresses and suits. I wish I had my camera but it was with my dad while he was in Baguio. Maybe Mich or Goldie will put up pics since they brought their camera. Lest I forget, Alexis and Hannah won Dancing King & Queen, and Goldie won Prom Princess. And Ciudad played a great set.

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The Managing The Arts Program at AIM Batch 4 is ongoing now. Students include Laurice Guillen and husband Johnny Delgado (Goin' Bananas!), Nestor Torre, and Marvyn Agustin (who's dorming for some reason). Star-studded! I'm going to see if I can sit in on some classes. Neva, Mich, and Chris are talking about attending Batch 5 in June.

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If you have nothing better to do, go here and vote for Newsradio, "full season" specs, please. It's one of my favorite shows of all time and I'd love it if the entire run were available on DVD.

What is it with Koreans? Why do they suddenly seem to have an influx of both money and insane creativity? Suddenly I’m aware that there even IS a Korean film industry, and that they’ve been coming out with some of the more interesting Asian films in recent memory. Normally I only hear about Hong Kong/China and Japan, but now you hear about Attack the Gas Station, My Wife Is A Gangster, and these two films I recently saw: My Beautiful Girl Mari and Volcano High. I saw My Beautiful Girl Mari about a week or two ago. It’s a lovely animated film about two boys who discover a portal into another fantastical world. Both the boys’ boring, lonely, troubled real-world life and the fantastic sequences in the other world are handled with equal amounts of imagination and sensitivity. The animation and art is beautiful. Far better than anything I would’ve expected from a country that wasn’t even on the map as far as animation goes. Volcano High I just saw Thursday night, and it’s amazing. It’s no Hero, certainly, but it’s a different kind of film anyway. It’s literally the best video game movie I’ve ever seen, except it isn’t based on any video game (as far as I know, anyway). It’s got some great wire work, interesting fight choreography, impressive cinematography, a ridiculously over-the-top, yet fun, story, even CG sequences. Where’d they get the money for all this? And the know-how? There’s some films here I haven’t gotten to yet, called Guns & Talks, which looks promising, kind of like an Ocean’s Eleven except they’re all young, good-looking, and assassins. And Phone, which looks like their answer to Ringu. And Christ, check out this trailer for a film called Wonderful Days. It looks amazing. Not just the animation, the matte paintings, but the character and vehicle design. The music’s terrific, too. I’ve been through it like 4 times already. Even in comics, though I know they have a rich history of manwah (the term for Korean comics, like the Japanese manga), the recently-concluded Angouleme festival had a special spotlight on Korea!

I am green with envy.

And since we’re on the topic of Korea, click here for a laugh.

My new wallpaper:



Last Wednesday night I watched Hero with Neva, Mich, Quark, and Lia, and all I can say is... Wow. WOW.

Actually, no, that's not all I can say. I can say a lot more. It's a fucking masterpiece. It's wonderful. It's the best film of the year so far, and I wouldn't be surprised if it stays that way, or at least in the top 5. You certainly won't find a more beautiful film this year, and though it's a bit early yet to say that, I daresay I'll still be right come December.

It's breathtaking. You can ask Neva, right after the introductory text, I already told her "I'm definitely watching this again." Once it started, I was just grinning from ear to ear like an idiot. I mean, I'd been waiting for this movie a long time. One of the best filmmakers, Zhang Yimou, working with my favorite cinematographer, Christopher Doyle, making a wuxia martial arts epic with a dream cast: Jet Li, Tony Leung, Maggie Cheung, Zhang Ziyi, and Donnie Yen. And, man, it was WORTH it. It's so rare for a film to live up to, and even exceed its hype, but Hero did it effortlessly. The first fight alone was worth the 160 pesos we paid (kind of expensive, yes, but Greenbelt 3 THX = P150 + P10 reservation fee is something I'm willing to pay for a film like this). It's operatic, it's grandiose, sweeping, epic, all the ridiculous adjectives you'd care to use. It's completely unlike anything I expected and yet I was satisfied on every level, and even some I didn't consider. The script, for example. I expected the great cinematography and the wonderful acting, but I didn't think the script would be that good. In a way, it has to be, because much of the film is silent. It's a film where what is said is just as important as what is unsaid. Where gestures are so important. And the structure of the film also took me by surprise: a series of stories within stories, somewhat Rashomon-like and yet not.

The visuals are just staggering. The colors are so alive, so vibrant, they just leap off the screen, and burn themselves in your retina. You could hang frames on your wall. The movement is fluid, graceful. The best wire work ever seen. The effects aren't distracting, and gladly aren't even that noticeable. I think it's a testament that the theater was mostly quiet throughout. No laughing at the wrong places. No talkative people, even in the many silences. Even us, as much as we make hirit sometimes, were just quiet, enjoying the spectacle.

Three scenes in the film brought tears to my eyes. Two involve Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung's doomed relationship, and one wasn't even about the story: the stunning fight between Maggie Cheung's Flying Snow and Zhang Ziyi's Moon in the forest. It's just so gorgeous, I found tears escaping my eyes, the kind that just appear out of nowhere without any preamble, the way they came out of Grima Wormtongue when he saw the army Saruman had amassed. Just by sheer, mindblowing AWE.

How many times do I have to tell you to watch this movie!? And I do mean in a theater. It's a theater movie. You'll miss so much if you just see it on video. I heard it's coming out in the US in November pa. Tough shit, folks. Here's one time I'm happy to be in the Philippines.

It's amusing to think about the connections among the cast and crew of Hero. Donnie Yen and Jet Li, for example, are both action superstars in Asia, though of course Li's more popular worldwide. They've both worked together before in the Once Upon a Time in China films. Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung were of course in In the Mood for Love, amongst other Wong Kar-Wai films, all shot by Christopher Doyle. And finally, Zhang Ziyi was discovered by Zhang Yimou when he cast her in The Road Home. And may I further add that I really liked Ziyi in this one, and am so glad she chose to accept the role despite its being relatively small and inessential. Then again, she'd have to be a fool to turn this down. Even on paper the project looked like a sure thing.

Going to the website, you can read a bit about the film. The part I remember most is the story behind the filming of the forest fight, where Zhang Yimou had a man in the forest to keep an eye on the changing colors of the leaves, sending videotapes to him, and when it was just the right color, the whole production rushed there. Crewmembers had to gather all the leaves after every take and arrange them according to three levels of brightness: A for in front of the actors, B for behind them, and C on the floor.

You can get wallpapers here.

Something is wrong with my mouse. The pointer only moves sideways, and not vertically. Which pisses me off. Terribly. It's quite difficult to use a computer using what few shortcut keystrokes you know. Somehow I was actually able to go online, but it was driving me mad. There's a post about being surrounded by prostitutes last Wednesday night that I owe, and a note about the Poveda Prom we attended last Saturday.

Anyway.

Finally saw 8 Mile last night, and just finished watching Catch Me If You Can. Both good films. I can see why people compare 8 Mile to Rocky, but it actually reminded me of The Karate Kid more than Rocky. Which, as Chris pointed out to me, were both directed by the same man. I enjoyed Catch Me If You Can a great deal, never once looked at the time or checked my phone through its 2 hour 18 minute running time. Loved the Saul Bass-inspired titles (which took 4 months to do), and as usual, terrific cinematography by Janusz Kaminsky. Also appreciated that the film had a lot of heart, that at its core it's actually about family.

Tomorrow: HERO! And The Eye.

Check out the reminders bar to the left, there’re a lot of new events coming up you may be interested in. Also added Wanda to the links box.

I sometimes forget about who reads this blog. A feeling of insularity becomes comfortable because it seems like the only people who read it are the ones who comment, or my close friends. So it still comes as a surprise to me when I get a nice email from my blockmate Criselle about the Ed being drunk post, or when Wanda chances upon the blog when we haven’t seen each other in months, probably since we were both technically students. Or when there’s an entry in the guestbook from someone I don’t know.

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As if the new Macarena, that “Ketchup” song, weren’t dumb enough (and remember, the lyrics to the chorus are literally gibberish), we now have a contender in the post-ketchup-success-race-to-cash-in-on-people’s-stupidity: a twin act named the Cheeky Girls. In the video, Monica and Gabriela wear a spaghetti-strap tight top and really short shorts (or as they are affectionately called by Dos, “pukeh shorts”: “Kita mo na kaluluwa niyan e!”) and they have their own childishly ridiculous dance move but by far the best thing is the lyrics. The chorus goes, and I shit you not: “Don’t be shy/Touch my bum/This is life”

You can’t make this stuff up.

--

I just saw Guillermo Del Toro’s The Devil’s Backbone. I liked the movie a lot; it wasn’t what I expected. I thought it would be a scare-fest, but it’s actually a bit of a coming-of-age drama, except with a vengeful ghost. I’m just so glad it’s completely unlike this idea I have for a horror film. Nice to see that it was produced by Pedro Almodovar, since this film is leagues away from the kinds of films he makes. Also don’t remember the last time I saw a film lensed by Guillermo Navarro. Was it Jackie Brown?

And all of a sudden, there are good movies out. I still haven't seen 8 Mile, and I plan to watch Femme Fatale and Catch Me If You Can, and The Two Towers at least one more time. Most of all, though, I cannot wait for next Wednesday, Feb. 5, when both Zhang Yimou's Hero AND the Pang Brothers' The Eye come out. Wooh!

Last Saturday I was able to attend two events: the Levi's launch of their Type 1 Jeans at Visual Workshop, and the SugarFree album launch at Freedom Bar. The SugarFree launch was fun, even if I didn't get to see the band perform at all. The reason was we came late, so when we got there the place was already so full it was impossible to get in. At the door were people standing, packed like hamsters c/o SBC. So we hung out outside where we got to see so many friends, some we haven't seen in a while. Jeline, who's got a hapon man now (half-Japanese boyfriend). Her sister Jenny, on vacation from Japan. The Itchyworms!. Ciudad and Quark. Echo and Akon. Ruby Ang. My Comm blockmate Genie Ranada, who did the beautiful art for the album, called Sa Wakas, and who happens to be lead singer Ebe's significant other. Cog's Yagi and Eric Perlas (also a blockmate). Katrice and Le Sexy Mark Lavin from the Flip Sweatshop. Alia. Doranne. Joey and Jason of Twisted Halo. Ciudad-monger Kathy, who gave me two cool buttons (danke ulit! :). Carlo Eustaquio of the defunct blog. Sigh Maano from Heights. The Fatal Posporos girls, and Earnest and Buddy, who showed off pictures of their baby girl Veda, who's grown but is still adorable. Two grade school classmates, Rody and Carlito. Dicta License and fellow C-man Kelley Mangahas, with another high school classmate and ex-Dicta drummer Bryan Makasiar. Also met Lala and (who I assume to be her) husband John, red as a beet from Boracay. I must be forgetting some people, I'm sorry. So it was a great big catching-up. And you go home with a great album, to boot. Caught up on some chismis, too.

As for the Levi's launch, well… it was apparently the first in a series of launch parties for the Type 1, each party serving a particular niche. In this case, Artists. The next one is for Stylists/Fashionistas, which Mich has been invited to also, and we speculate the next two are for Yuppie Fucks and the Boring Rest. Either that or Trekkies. Maybe People Good At Trigonometry? The party scheduled for 6 began slowly at around 9-ish, kicking off with Lyle Sacris's thesis short film. So we were treated to 3 screens playing simultaneously, beginning with a man masturbating to a mineral water bottle and culminating in a 20-foot close-up of a singing vagina and Lyle biting down on a razorblade, blood coming out his mouth while the camera circles him. Groans from some of the audience. The party took place in an empty studio, with artwork hanging on one side. I have to admit that some of them were pretty interesting, and Mich wanted to buy one but the price given her was, to me, extreme. I'm sure people like Carlo can do much better. Across the artwork was the stage, and betwixt the two, pillows and tables for people to sit and eat free food from Cibo and free alcoholic beverages from who knows. Honestly, who cares? Free anything always tastes good, as us C-Men always say. The crowd was mostly pretentious faux-artiste types, the comfortably rich, unemployed stoners who think procrastination is an art form, or something to be lauded. Not everyone was like that, though. There were some honest, sincere types. Just outnumbered. Occupying the table beside us was Mylene Dizon and Ryan Eigenman. It amused me to be near stars of Agimat and Lastikman.

I left to go to the SugarFree thing but when I came back Epy Quizon had joined his Lastikman buddy. Strider was in the house! So was John Sobrepena, who I wanted to catch but his set was too late for me. Quark's poppa Atom was there, and Hannah had joined Goldie and Mich. Oh, the things we do when we're drunk. By the time I got back Mich was hammered. Goldie had already done her pass out bit but had already woken up and actually seemed sober. Usually the interns are noisier than Mich but this time it was the other way around. Mich was so drunk she didn't realize she was screaming. Even before I got back I was receiving text messages saying "Kami na ni Epy!" and when I got there she'd tell me again and again as if it was late-breaking news. Actually, screamed is more appropriate. And then five minutes later: "I love him!" Two minutes more: "He's cheating on me!" and I look and he's sitting with a girl me and Mich both know. While they're within earshot she shouts "He's only using [name] for sex!" For once Hannah and Goldie are the docile ones, sitting on the floor watching the bands. Later, yet another spectacle: Mich takes 4 pictures of her crushboy. Back to back to back to back. And there's also a verbal exchange that is too precious, I think I'll let her blog about it instead. On Monday I quizzed her about what happened; she only got about 70% right.

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Saw Confessions of a Dangerous Mind recently, and loved it. Watch it. Surprisingly, George Clooney's is the best directorial debut of the year. The script by Charlie Kaufman is pitch perfect, though actually this kind of film I would have expected more from Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski, whose forte is biopic scripts (Ed Wood, Man on the Moon, The People Vs. Larry Flynt). Actors were all terrific, cinematography and colors were amazing, style is suited to the material, just a brilliant piece of cinema that came without too much expectation and blew me away. Awash in the post-viewing buzz, there is no better high than experiencing art that takes you by surprise, takes your breath away, sows seeds of thought and idea and concept that keep you up until the wee hours.

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Two important film people died recently. Kinji Fukasaku, director of Battle Royale, The Green Slime, and co-director of Tora! Tora! Tora!, died of prostate cancer on January 12 at the age of 72 while in the midst of prepping Battle Royale 2 (you can find a 15-second teaser here), and now the project is in the hands of his son (who wrote the screenplay for both films, and was I think 19 at the time of the first). Hope he does good by it. Fukasaku is a pretty old director, but he has 61 films to his credit, and is cited as an influence by people like John Woo and Quentin Tarantino. However, it was only with the Kubrickian Battle Royale that he became known all over the globe. At the same press conference where he announced he'd be pushing through with a sequel to Battle Royale, he revealed that his cancer, which had been in remission, had returned. He said, however, that he wanted to use his remaining time left continuing to make movies.

"I hope to be able to continue to find wonderful projects with great directors and go on forever." - Conrad L. Hall

Which he had in common with cinematographer extraordinaire Conrad L. Hall. A legend in his own lifetime, Hall also succumbed to cancer, dying last January 4. He lensed 35 films. Some of his more famous films include Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Cool Hand Luke, and In Cold Blood. Myself, I only really came to know him from his Oscar-winning work on American Beauty, but his best work in my opinion is his last: Road to Perdition. You could take every shot from that film and hang it on your wall. His son's also a cinematographer; he shot Panic Room with Darius Khondji. Of all people, Tom Cruise recommended him to Sam Mendes, who hired him for Beauty and didn't let him go for Road. I wonder who he'll get now that Connie's passed on. One of the great things about Hall is that he's just a nice guy. He enjoyed working with young and first-time directors, and kept abreast of new technology (though mostly eschewing effects-heavy stuff) and people in his field, particularly giving props to women cinematographers.

Raise a glass for both men.

Which Battle Royale Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

The only other test I was marginally interested in.

I do believe this is the first time I've ever answered one of these things.


Which Ringwraith are You?
By Lisa

Am in Iloilo right now. Been here since Wednesday afternoon. The trip began badly because I lost my ticket and had to pay twice what I was going (and ready) to. Damn. Still, it's been tremendous fun. I'm here with Neva and PJ, one of my best friends from high school. As soon as I arrived we went to the local SM. Wow. Anyway, played some really old high-school-era arcade games, and I got PJ to buy a book that I will probably buy myself when I have the time, Donna Tartt's The Secret History. We also checked out this exhibit of various tribal costumes, which wasn't too interesting. However I did enjoy the adjacent exhibit, which featured all sorts of Sto. Ninos. There was a black one, a fat one (the creepiest, he looked like he'd eaten another poor Sto. Nino), even a female! Then all of us had a monster dinner, watched the Blue Roast videos from our respective batches, and went to sleep.

The next morning we went to Neva's family's mango farm in Guimaras, then another monster lunch, shot pool, and hit the beach for a couple of hours. Beach was fantastic: strong wind, coffee-mate sand, strong waves, freezing cold water that becomes better after a minute or two. best of all, practically secluded. After that we went to the Trappist Monastery, the only one in the country. There a decidedly gay monk gave us a tour, and we kept asking typically ridiculous questions. They're vegetarians who only eat once a day (you can choose the time), cannot leave the compound unless it's urgent or necessary, and cannot speak when inside the grounds proper (which is off-limits to visitors). The gay priest was quite proud of his order, showing off their two chapels (one donated by a couple who lost their only child in an accident when he was aged 27), pointing out how the bricks were made from Guimaras's natural limestone, etc. After all that, we went back to Neva's farm, had another monster dinner, talked and drank 'til 11 PM.

It's good to see PJ again. I miss his jokes, unfunny or successful. He told us about the people he's met in San Diego, the things he misses about the Philippines, the fears and wants we have for our future. As he said, "I can't remember the last time I had an intelligent conversation!" Must've been the beer.

We slept at the farm. It was unexpectedly cold, Baguio-cold, and we were wearing nothing but shorts and flimsy excuses for shirts. So we slept in the fetal position, under blankets, scared of the wind which would snap tarps against the windows every now and again. Of course, this being the province I should mention that the moon was bright as hell, like a spotlight bright. You could see the craters. The stars were also out in force, since there's no light pollution, and especially past 9 PM, when pretty much everyone on the island is asleep, you could walk outside without bringing any light. And the wind was so strong, you could actually watch clouds zoom past. Amazing.

And I forgot to mention that we of course had the sweetest mangoes for dessert. Mine had a hint of tanginess to it, but that gave it personality. Personality goes a long way.

Next morning we visited the Trappist Monastery again and bought some pasalubongs to shut my family up. PJ had to leave early but I'll be here until tomorrow afternoon. Am at Neva's family's house in Iloilo, and will probably watch something stupid like The Tuxedo while I wait for them to get back from a meeting. Had batchoy for lunch. I think I might gain a few pounds while I'm here.

In the continuingly amusing referrals list of people who come here, the most recent noteworthy search words were:

pia guanio and mike (especially specific, aren’t we?)
lolita pics (is this some genre of cheesecake photography I am heretofore unaware of?)
erotic paperboy drawings (again, I’m curious)

And my personal favorite for this round, BLOGS WITH CHISMIS (yes, all in caps).

This time, though, a majority of my accidents are now from Aubrey Miles and Anna Shier fans, with two from Paz Lenchantin. Come on, where are all the legions that I know are out there who are in love with Melissa Auf der Maur? Show yourselves!

--

Googlism for: ramon

ramon is on island
ramon is helemaal niet lief
ramon is located on 11 square miles of the san ramon valley
ramon is a community where the quality of life is as important as the economic growth of the city
ramon is zonder twijfel de persoon die ik het vaakst bel
ramon is a brilliant mopey stroll through san francisco's slate gray streets (WHATTA DESCRIPTION)
ramon is usually referred to as a crater
ramon is another excursion into kozelek's brooding world
ramon is a young and prosperous city blessed with an idealic location
ramon is located in contra costa county on 11 square miles of the san
ramon is situated on 11 square miles of the san ramon valley
ramon is located in contra costa county on 11 square miles of the san ramon valley
ramon is sinuous and unhurried (A BIT ACCURATE)
ramon is tall (SOMEWHAT)
ramon is an extremely talented composer and musician (HOW I WISH)
ramon is an incredibly talented musician and composer with many great accomplishments yet ahead in his future
ramon is not the first jew to become an astronaut
ramon is adjacent to major freeways including #680 both north and south
ramon is not the filipino (HAHA)
ramon is not as delightful as it could be (UNFORTUNATELY)
ramon is a small town lying about halfway between jerusalem and the red sea resort of eilat
ramon is our future (THEN WE’RE DOOMED)
ramon is always on the run (SURE FEELS LIKE IT)
ramon is very good at predicting current events (YEAH?)
ramon is at the heart of the valley and is surrounded by the prosperous communities of alamo
ramon is extremely impressive; in fact (AGAIN, I CAN ONLY WISH)
ramon is unpopular even in labor
ramon is made up of single family homes
ramon is far and away the
ramon is always very calm (REALLY, NOW)
ramon is determined to convince mariah that their romance and friendship can peacefully co
ramon is clueless that delanie and lauren are sisters?
ramon is available in all eu languages
ramon is a dynamic young city
ramon is accomplished in many avenues of artistic expression (IN MY DREAMS, MAYBE)
ramon is like the little boy who believes so thoroughly in fairies and santa claus his family can not bear to disillusion him (BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA)
ramon is a complex presenting a rich collection of desert plants and animals
ramon is that the man is completely literal
ramon is working the afternoon shift at seven
ramon is a graduate of cornell university
ramon is approximately 41 (WHAT THE--?!)
ramon is a reminder that it is a lot more fun to train with a team as compared to training by yourself (HAHA THIS JUST SOUNDS GREAT)
ramon is ready to fight with him (YOU BET)
ramon is that the shuttle will orbit the earth every 90 minutes
ramon is a
ramon is god" on it in the picture
ramon is the breezy hillside of banawa is more than just a beauty to behold
ramon is a tall handsome man (FINALLY THE TRUTH!)
ramon is pretty much a story in itself (HMM…)
ramon is travelling around the world
ramon is too pleased with himself to notice that the ship is on "alarma"
ramon is a businessman (?!)
ramon is less worried by black widows than he is of the plight of the pronghorn
ramon is also a veteran amateur radio operator
ramon is 8 and his brain tumor is gone
ramon is a member of the plaintiff's executive committee in the now
ramon is expected to serve passengers from the livermore
ramon is a colt with great presence
ramon is taking out his anger on jeff hardy
ramon is not paying attention to him at all
ramon is an excellent worker and was employee of the year in 2000 (COOL SHIRT)
ramon is located in contra costa county
ramon is a growing and prosperous town
ramon is our version of jaime escalante of "stand and deliver"
ramon is committed to the advancement and awareness of the gay community
ramon is a transfer from mississippi state university who will contribute maturity and a work ethic to the chaparrals this season (THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK…)
ramon is an extended
ramon is confident that the service would be successful in this initiative
ramon is currently fishing with his hosts above the artic circle and contemplating world events but he will be leaving northern
ramon is a freelance illustrator who has worked in his industry since 1977 from his home in madrid
ramon is
ramon is ons tweede kind
ramon is that he was almost 200 years old before he even heard of amber
ramon is the latest in a string of new union organizing efforts statewide
ramon is pointing to
ramon is satisfied (UH, NO.)
ramon is one of ari's kids where there may be some doubt
ramon is badly injured by robert but he struggles up to fight on
ramon is in 1996 beginnen draaien op verschillende party's in nederland en
ramon is able to offer you the best and most reliable service in the areas listed below
ramon is a pretty weak park
ramon is south of walnut creek and the danville area in the diablo valley
ramon is due to begin his travel across the world on may 1
ramon is a surprisingly comfortable sounding album (COOL)
ramon is een zeer getalenteerde jonge musicus

Wednesday was such a fucking mess.

It was the day of the funeral. After the final mass at 930 AM, the coffin was brought by the hearse to Manila Memorial Park in Sucat, where my lola was to be buried beside my lolo. Final prayers, final viewing, and then finally the lid is closed, the casket is lowered into a cement case, we toss flowers down and watch as the cement lid is lowered into place. After this we’re supposed to have lunch. The food is prepared; plates, glasses and plastic utensils all laid out. But no. Because the stupid motherfucker of a driver, who among all the MMP staff is the only one wearing a sando, shorts, and slippers, backs up his mini-dump truck, and just drops all the soil into the hole. Except it ISN’T soil, it’s mud, wet earth, packed together and thus, falls into the hole as if it were one solid, heavy lump. And while people are already lining up to eat, curious me peers over the edge and sees that one end of the cement lid is raised. And that there are cracks crisscrossing, disappearing under the mud. Before Fucking Moron can dump his second load, I mention it to my parents, who are near the edge but not looking over it. They can’t see it from where they’re standing. So they see it, and my aunt sees it, and they tell the workers to halt. People stop eating, come over to the edge, look over, see the crack and the opening and murmur and my aunt and mom are really pissed. My dad is pissed, too, I can see, but he’s keeping quiet behind his sunglasses, since my tita and mom are already berating the driver and the other workers, asking for the officer-in-charge. Instructions are given to dig out the mud already in the hole to see the damage. Because we can see the cement lid is shattered. It’s broken. What no one wants to say out loud, but everyone is thinking, is what about the casket? We eat anyway because several of us are already hungry.

Later, when the mud is out, we see the damage: the cement lid has broken, caved in, and damaged the lid of the casket. Thankfully, because there are metal braces within the cement lid, it didn’t cave in all the way, otherwise the casket, glass, and my lola’s body may have been damaged. But still, due to the negligence of this moron driver, the casket we paid for is damaged, and at this point we don’t know about the inside. Trucks come to pull out the lid’s remains and the casket. Meanwhile I, who had been given the digital camera at the house before we left with instructions to take pictures of the mass and funeral, was now being told to take pictures of the damage, what the workers were doing, and the people present, particularly the driver. Behind me people are talking lawsuit.

The OIC arrives and tells us they’ll replace the casket free of charge. Thankfully there’s a PAZ funeral parlor within the memorial park, and the casket is brought to a truck, and taken there. I accompany the casket along with my dad’s eldest brother. We get to the parlor and suddenly I’m in the room where bodies are prepared. There are two steel slabs, slanted at a slight angle, with headrests. Hoses at their side. I wonder what it’s like to be lying naked on cold steel. Not that we’ll ever be conscious when we get there. They bring out an identical casket, though slightly longer and with less gildings. At this point, though, we can’t really be choosy. It’s more important that we get this over and done with, rather than prolong things because it’s not the exact same design. Finally comes the moment I’ve been dreading: after the opening of both caskets and the transfer of flowers, the transfer of my lola’s body. They take off the glass lid under the casket lid, and gently lift her up into the other casket. I was scared at first because I kept wondering about things that may sound ridiculous now: what if the body breaks? Will there be a sound like creaking wood? What if a part of her comes off? Thankfully, nothing happened, and apparently she was very light. The body was expectedly stiff, but it surprised me HOW stiff, as in she stayed perfectly straight even though she was only being lifted at her shoulders and legs, with no support under her back. Glass lid was placed, flowers transferred, lid closed. Into the truck and back to the burial lot where some people were still waiting, though most guests had already left. The casket is carried to the lot and there’s another last viewing, my dad and his siblings checking the casket. The casket is lowered, and someone makes a joke: “Take two.” We throw flowers in again. The cement lid is put in place again. This time, though, the soil (actual soil now) is shoveled in. We wait until it’s full, and I learn from my mom that while I was away my dad said something like, “She refuses to go.” It’s old-people humor. The OIC ordered a bunch of Jollibee hamburgers and drinks for us. So I don’t know if there’ll be a lawsuit or not.

What should’ve ended at 1230 ended at 4 PM.

I’m almost sorry I mentioned the smashed lid to my parents, because it became such a headache and caused all this trouble. But then, it was right, I think, to do so. We paid for the casket, after all, and I don’t think it would’ve been fair to keep her in the ground without knowing what happened. It’s just so damn ridiculous. I can only imagine what my dad and his siblings felt. How would I feel if my mom’s body was possibly damaged by the negligence of an overweight ignoramus? I probably would’ve clocked the guy. It’s a disgrace, an insult, disrespectful. If any of you are getting buried at Manila Memorial, be careful about how it’s done.

--

This is my first funeral since my maternal lolo back in around 87. I’d forgotten about the procedure. While everything was going on I just kept thinking about what other people must have been thinking. Old people in the crowd: were they contemplating their own funerals? Did the kids even realize what was happening? Did the workers appreciate the irony of making a living from tending to the dead? Or were they just numb and cold about it, seeing it only as a job? I wonder if my parents were thinking about what the view is like from the other side. It’s probably because I kept taking pictures, so I was just looking at people’s expressions.

I think I’d like my funeral to be kind of like a party.

--

On a lighter note, congratulations to Lia and Quark! The former for turning (only) 22, and latter for pulling off a sweet surprise party. And for giving Lia a lomo. Shee-it. Good food and company galore, plus some porn, which is always good.

My paternal grandmother died last night at around 720 PM. I'm not particularly a religious person but I'm not partial to asking that you think of her in your prayers. It's strange because she died one week after her 98th birthday. And also because Neva's maternal grandmother died around a week or two ago, too. Which is actually the main reason she's in Iloilo right now.

Have I ever mentioned that I’m allergic to alcohol? Not deathly allergic (otherwise I’d be dead now), but I get this kind of rash on my back whenever I drink. And if it’s severe it’ll reach up to around my neck and shoulders and creep around to the sides of my front chest area. This has been going on since I first tried drinking beer on a regular basis in high school. Which of course ended prematurely (the try). Anyway, I didn’t drink for a while after that, and still don’t, actually. I only drink when I’m with friends and they’re drinking. Because of the allergy, I usually become the designated driver, or the person who tries to keep everyone else from drowning in puddles of their own vomit.

I did get really drunk once (and only once) in 3rd Year High School. I woke up the next morning in a stranger’s bed (and house). It belonged to a friend of the classmate I was with, thankfully.

Last two years of high school, we’d have occasional inuman sessions at Mike Jalbuena’s house here in our village. His mom has a good philosophy about it: she’d rather we get drunk and lose our wits under her roof rather than in some seedy bar somewhere and get stabbed. We’d bring clothes, gather whatever drinks we could, and just get smashed. It was always fun. Lots of memorable moments and behavior. Ben speaks only in English when drunk. Eumir somehow manifests a British accent, which is hilarious. Arvy becomes violent and gets mad whenever people disagree with him (he almost broke Mike’s SuperNES controller one time because he kept losing to Sherman in WrestleMania). JC passes out after one shot of tequila. Mike becomes flamboyant in both speech and movement, speaking more in those nights than he does in a regular month. Arvy talking about having sex with his girlfriend and all the rest of us virgins listening intently. JP passed out in the bathroom, taking a crap with the door open. JC waking up to say one sentence and then falling back asleep. Ping-pong tournaments while pissed. JP vomiting Exorcist-style, the stream from his mouth leaping clear across the room to the sleeping bags. Ugh.

Ed Ibarra joined us one time. He’d always wanted to go before but his dad was strict and he wasn’t allowed a lot of the time. But he finally got to go once in senior year. And since he wasn’t really used to alcohol he got drunk. The stupid fucker didn’t tell us he’d taken medication that afternoon so we were as surprised as he was when he started vomiting and there were red flecks of blood in there. It didn’t worsen so we didn’t worry about it. But he was out of it, and he started crying. He started talking about how he hated his parents because they were so strict, how he always felt he couldn’t satisfy them, how he hated this English teacher of ours because she was giving him such a hard time and he was doing his best. He was crying, weeping, bawling, the kind of cry that uses up your whole body and you’re clenched like a fist in a fetal position. I was cradling his head in my lap because he was thrashing around too much and started banging his head on the metal frame of the bed and on the cement walls. Mike held his feet down and was ready with a bucket in case he needed to vomit some more. The both of us were crying with him. I don’t know about Mike, but I knew I had issues with my parents in those days (still do), and I could relate to some of what Ed was screaming/weeping in a drunken stupor. Even as I type this I have to stop tears from welling in my eyes from the memory.

When morning came we brought Ed to the hospital, where he was given Milk of Magnesia and a big-ass injection. He wore a towel, shorts, black socks and leather shoes. :) When we finally got to talking about that night I found out he had no recollection of what he’d said or done that night. He didn’t remember the crying fits or breaking Mike’s mom’s lamp in the hallway. He barely remembered the hospital, but that was after he’d woken up already. I felt weird, having gone through that with him and he not remembering any of it. I really hope it had some good effect on him, even if it was subconscious. A feeling of purgation, if you will. Of catharsis. But I don’t know. Sometimes it feels as if everything he spewed out was passed on to me.

I had my first-ever New Year’s gimmick yesterday, and it was a blast. Every New Year I spend with my relatives (Christmas is with immediate family). But this year, I got a pleasant surprise because I met up with Quark and Mich and the popettes and Joey and Margie. I thought we were only going to rescue Mich from “cigar-chomping old fogeys” and I’d get to greet my friends a Happy New Year. But we went to this party at the helipad of the Rizal building in Rockwell. First, the parking in Rockwell was horrible. The mall was closed, so their parking was too. Everyone had to park on the side of the street and it was pretty full already. I had to leave the compound and go back in, finally finding a spot beside the exit of an office building. Then I went to meet the kids at this waystation, where exclusive vans would bring us to the building. There was some other minor rave also in Rockwell that was the reason for all the traffic, I found out later. Then up to the 46th floor, then up another few flights of stairs before you get to the actual helipad. At first it was boring, but it started getting more crowded later on. The idea of a party on a helipad is certainly appealing to me: the view’s fantastic, and there’s a cool breeze. With free drinks, we crashed on a giant pillow and did the usual: make fun of people around us, shot the shit and traded tsismis and news. Joey got drunk fastest, I think, because he was telling the same pieces of news several times over. Margie and Quark and Mich all knew a lot of people at the event. Goldie got knocked out again, though she didn’t have any blue drinks this time around (to our knowledge, anyway). So she collapsed on the giant pillow and slept half the time. Whenever Mich and her popettes would start dancing these two skinny old bald men would approach and start dancing, until Mich would let out a piercing cry like a child lost in a mall and then the baldies would sheepishly slink back to their corner. There was a fire raging on the roof of another building that had me mesmerized for a few minutes. Food was served, including champorado, omelettes, tocino and tapa. None of it was good. Finally the whole thing was ended when we saw the sun rise. Cool. I don’t remember the last time I did that. It was fascinating to watch because while you could look down around you at the view, you couldn’t see the stars because of the smoke from all the fireworks that had gone off when it hit midnight. So gradually, everything just got brighter and brighter, the canopy of smoke above becoming more and more clear. And then the sun actually showed itself for a few minutes before disappearing into another bank of clouds, and then we went home.

So it was also the first time I’d ever partied ‘til dawn. Even if we did begin at around 3, 330.

One cry across the land unites the people: MANO PO SUCKS ASS!

This just goes to prove that you can spend however much you want, but if you start with a horrible story, it’s not going to save you. The only things decent in this film is the production design and the acting. And when I say acting, I mean decent, as in not exemplary. Certainly nothing worth an award. Hell, Maricel Soriano did a better job than Ara. But against Vilma in Dekada?! Who the fuck do you expect to swallow that? And I’m sorry, Eddie Garcia: you’re a fine actor with the right material, but winning for this role just means they all think you’re going to die soon.

Everything else is bollocks. You’ve got too many characters, and none of them are people, they’re all stereotypes. Some of them don’t even have an excuse to exist, like Tirso Cruz’s Daniel and Eric Quizon’s Joseph (not to mention the two kids who are supposed to be so important to Kris’s character, este, stereotype). The best actresses in the bunch, Amy Austria and Gina Alajar, are utterly wasted. The subtitles should be in Tagalog, not English. The accents are laughable, especially Eddie Garcia and that kid who played him (Cogie Domingo?). Why couldn’t they get even a few Chinoys in the cast? It’s not like we’ve a drought. Inconsistencies galore.

For one thing, they keep going back and forth between English, Tagalog, and Chinese, without reason. Second, director Joel Lamangan tries to employ these framing devices when obviously he doesn’t know what the hell he wants to say. The movie starts with a noirish non-linear intro, and you think the movie will be told in flashback. But no, it’s just a pa-cool intro. Beyond incidental flashbacks for certain characters (Daniel and his sister), nothing else is non-linear in the film. Then you have sequences where it’s obvious someone’s shooting a documentary, but it’s not on video, it’s on film, and the “handheldness” of these scenes is excruciating. It’s so obviously fake in its movement and look. That stuttering buffoon of a character should have been aborted upon pregnancy, because he serves no purpose other than to “chronicle” the family’s story, and this is laughable because he starts as a photographer, not a documentarian.

The transitions are all awful, abrupt and unwelcome. The one that interrupts the hospital scene is a particularly hated one. Most, if not all, add nothing to the story. Even my mom spotted this: since Boots Anson-Roa’s character is Filipino, that means they were never pure Chinese. So what’s the big fucking deal? Why do they feel they have to act all Chinese? And if Boots’s character had the strength of will to leave China for home, and the husband followed her, why is she such a complacent old bat in old age, to the point that she actually has to give a speech to Ara (in the church) that her fights are done with, and it’s their turn? Would you believe women paid to produce this? I’ll guess they’re not feminists. And what’s with all the interior monologues? One character’s fine, but everyone!? And in scenes that obviously don’t need it, like Richard Gomez staring at pictures of Ara Mina? Go ahead and insult your audience, why don’t you. We never expected anything more anyway. By all means, don’t show, TELL.

The ONLY thing that even resembled something interesting was the subplot where Amy Austria’s character found her missing husband. That scene alone held more promise than the rest of the film’s 95%.

Oh my God, and the score! What a horribly composed mess. Annoyingly bland and loud marches for China scenes, irritating muzak piano for drama scenes, and it’s as if he cues the entrance of music to the first tear in anyone’s eyes when it’s time for someone to fight/slap someone else/die (I was hoping it’d be Eddie’s character). Another thing that frustrated me is that Eddie’s character learned nothing from the death of his wife (oh sorry, was that a spoiler? Well TOUGH because this movie’s BULLSHIT!!!). He was still a hard-hearted son of a bitch. Worst of all, perhaps, the damn movie just WOULDN’T END! Way past the climax, I don’t know what they were thinking, since it didn’t do anything to save this train wreck.

And let’s not forget all the entertainment “press” that just fell over backwards trying to kiss this film’s ass, fawning over its “values” and “realism” and other words for “oh-I-don’t-know-anything-about-film-criticism.” Values my ass. I didn’t know it was a value to treat your family like shit and wait for the eventual life-threatening scene to remind you of the frailty of life. Hell, this territory was strip-mined already a few years ago by Tanging Yaman! Not that it was original, or any good either.

If I was of Chinese descent, I’d be offended. Thank God I didn’t pay for this shit.

Avoid this movie like you would HIV. One thing I remember is Mother Lily saying she’s so proud of the film she’s considering retiring after this, so that Mano Po can cap off her career as a milestone. All I can say to that is: please, PLEASE RETIRE!

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Read this for a laugh. It’s wicked funny.

It’s nice to find out about another cool person who reads comics. And it’s even better that Nick Hornby actually writes about them in the New York Times. And he’s a Tomine fan!

Also found out that Carrie Brownstein is a big fan of Erik Satie. Coolness.

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A while back I finished Summerland by Michael Chabon, which I got from Chris for Christmas. It's terrific. Obviously it can't stand up to The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, the former being a young adults fantasy and the latter being a Pulitzer Prize-winning epic that spans decades in two lives. It's imperfect; certain "requirements" of the Quest I feel are missing, the main character is sometimes frustrating and least interesting (he makes up for the second with a few amazing last paragraphs of the book), and the last few chapters are incredibly rushed, as if he suddenly realized that either A) his deadline was looming, or B) he promised a 500-page book, had gotten to page 400, realized he was only halfway through, and crammed the next 400 pages worth of story into 100 pages. However, his language is graceful and beautiful and poetic and lyrical; when it's there, it's THERE, and you sometimes can't help but stop reading, put down the book, and let what you just read seep in a little while longer. One chapter about the Sasquatch was one of the most achingly beautiful passages I've read all year. Which brings up another thing: the supporting characters are almost all wonderful. Some actually don't need to be there, some outlive their purpose 2/3s into the book (they're needed to fill positions on a baseball team). However, I didn't like the way he handled the vanquishing of the antagonist. It was a deus ex machina, and for something he'd been building for roughly 400 pages, was a bit of a cheat. His world-building is impressive, descriptions of the different areas and world lingering long after their chapters in question.

What I just finished was Neva's gift, The Jew of New York by Ben Katchor. It's full of eccentric, charming characters, the art's pleasing to the eye and is unique, the tone is whimsical. Fascinating interweaving of different characters. For some reason, though, I couldn't read it straight, I could only do at most 20 pages a day. That doesn't mean it wasn't good, though. On the contrary, it's such a unique book, the kind that surprises you with its existence, which I'm always thankful for. To think that it's a comic strip; a page a day appearing in the newspaper. Most comic strips now are nothing; just excuses for sad gags. Back in the day long stories could be told by publishing a page a day. Now it's still sort of continued by the like of Brenda Starr and The Phantom and Prince Valiant reprints.

I've finally started on Michael Crichton's Timeline.

Where art thou, Melissa Auf Der Maur?

Melissa Auf Der Maur used to be the bassist of Hole, filling in after Kristen Pfaff died of an overdose. Billy Corgan recommended her for the slot. But since Hole have pretty much been on hold because of Courtney Love's desperate attempts to become famous (and her long-standing disputes with Geffen Records), she left to go solo for a while, but was promptly picked up by Corgan to fill in as bassist in Smashing Pumpkins when D'Arcy Wretzky went off to pursue her up-to-now non-existent acting career. She was only their tour bassist, since D'Arcy played bass on the band's last album Machina. However, Auf Der Maur appeared in the videos post-D'Arcy: The Everlasting Gaze, and Stand Inside Your Love.

She is the sexiest woman in rock.

And thank God she was in the Hole videos, too. Whenever it wasn't a pure-Courtney thing, anyway. Let's see: Malibu, and Violet, which I just saw earlier and prompted this entry. With her fiery red hair and freckles, just the way she straddles her big-ass bass, she is one of my #1 Crushes. She sings back-up sometimes, and it's obviously much more interesting to watch her instead of Courtney Love (especially in Malibu), and I think I actually prefer her being a back-up singer/bassist than if she were to become the frontperson of a band. Part of her mystique, I guess, is in being in the background, but being more compelling than the foreground. Does that make sense? I remember once, Ric Ocasek played on Conan O'Brien, and I didn't give a shit, but when they started I noticed he'd gotten Auf Der Maur to play bass for him and I went apeshit, trying to hook up my VHS to record it (but, alas, failed; I was missing a few cables).

So here's the thing: where art thou, Melissa Auf Der Maur? Ever since Smashing Pumpkins dissolved, does anybody know what she's been up to? She's not in Corgan's new band Zwan, and she's not in the Virgins, either (James Iha's post-Pumpkins band with Evan Dando of the Lemonheads). She's one of rock's national treasures, a damn good bassist with a damn good voice and killer looks, to boot. Mikey and I are big fans of her in Everlasting Gaze, what with that dress, the angles, and her moves. There's one part where she stamps her foot on the floor as if dashing the hopes of all lovelorn rock-geeks. Interestingly, she looks cutest in that shot where she's obviously concentrating on playing.

*Sigh*…

I tried googling her and all I could find was that she's been doing odd projects, at one point doing a fashion show with a puppeteer, and then gigs with friends like Paz Lenchantin.

Paz is another fine bassist, and also a hot rock babe. I've only seen her in pictures and that beautiful A Perfect Circle video "Judith" directed by David Fincher. But I think she's left A Perfect Circle already (not too big a deal since it was a side band anyway) to join Billy Corgan's Zwan. Man, that Corgan sure has a fine eye for the fine ladies. I suppose it's to make up for his bald pate. I remember being very impressed in high school to find out that the bassist of the Smashing Pumpkins was a woman (D'Arcy Wretzky), and one that wasn't butt-ugly. She's quite cute, actually, but sometimes her make-up can make her look haggard (Ava Adore).

So that's three fine ladies of rock, all bassists. Who are the others? Among guitarists, Carrie Brownstein immediately comes to mind, though other people may disagree with me. However, after seeing Sleater-Kinney perform twice in Boston, I was smitten. She had a broken toe and still played like a whirling dervish, jumping and spinning and striking rock goddess poses and strutting her stuff. I emptied an entire roll of film on her one night. Whatta performer. Thinking about it, the way a woman moves with a guitar can be a beautiful thing. It probably says a lot about her personality, too. And if you think about it, the cable from the guitar to the amp is a kind of leash, so it has that restraint/wild thing going for it. Hoo-hah. Or am I just thinking about this too much? I still think Juliana Hatfield's a babe. Dolores O'Riordan, but I hesitate to mention her since the quality of the Cranberries' music has taken a sharp nosedive since To The Faithful Departed. Shirley Manson definitely knows how to move, but up close she's actually not that beautiful. We've got the Fatal Posporos, all fine ladies. Kitchie Nadal is filling out nicely. I'm still in love with Bjork but her age is now undeniable.

Who are your suggestions?

Ahh, Christmas. How you suck. The traffic just isn't worth it. That said, I'm glad it's over. We can all hopefully go back to our lives. You can always appreciate the break, but the traffic and aggravation are just hell. Plus, everything's been commercialized, commodified, compromised anyway. Got some nice gifts, and I'd like to think Neva and I gave some away, too. I got Neva Blue Monday: The Kids Are Alright by Chynna Clugston-Major.

It's a charming little book that reminds me of Archie, except with lots of swearing, and no delusions: they all know they want to get laid. And it's drawn in a cute manga style, except it's done by an American. I actually didn't want to like it when I first read it; I thought it just wasn't my thing, but I was utterly won over by the sheer syrupy-sweet charm of it all. We both liked the second book, Absolute Beginners, which I'd borrowed from Gio, so I thought I'd take a chance and get her the first book. Hope she likes it.

She, in turn, gave me Ben Katchor's The Jew of New York, a book I'd been looking at for a long time in Not Page One. I don't know how she did it, but she bought it while I was with her. While I was in the comics and film section, she got it from the Humor section (where it was wrongly placed by Not Page One) and paid for it, and then when I went over to check on it, and found it missing, I got depressed, which I'm sure cheered her up no end.

The Wednesday group had a small Christmas party in Brash last Sunday, and we exchanged gifts, those who'd remembered to bring theirs, anyway, and shot the usual shit and shared the tsismis and ate and drank. Chris gave me Summerland by Michael Chabon, a book I'd long been looking forward to reading and was actually already reserved for me at PowerBooks.

Both me and Chris are BIG fans of Chabon's Pulitzer Prize-winner The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, so he's going to borrow Summerland after I'm through (I'm about a quarter in). Quark & Lia gave me the Smashing Pumpkins' Earphoria, as well as a small Aquaman toy where he looks like he's in mortal fear of a crab for some reason. Another excellent gift; I was just eyeing it last Friday (Earphoria, not the Aquaman). Got some Batang West Side swag from Alexis: posters and a mug. Gave Joey Brotherhood of the Wolf and Charade. I regret not attacking the Cookies and Cream in the freezer, though. Saw Ernan and Le Sexy Mark Lavin and Ozzy, who finally returned all those things he stole back on my birthday! Of course, he forgot my Requiem for a Dream. Typical. Alia got a dolphin from Chris, and Mich got a Jolina doll which she honestly and sincerely cherishes. She listens to it sing every morning and when we visited her on Christmas Eve she'd already made clothes for the damn thing, and the batteries were beginning to wear out because she couldn't get enough of the song. Chris also gave Ernan 3 books on bodybuilding, all written by the same guy, a Cyrus something or other who apparently has an empire of bodybuilding paraphernalia. Ernan also showed up with his new haircut, for those of you who read his blog.

I also got a terrific shirt from Mich.

So Yahoo sucks, because Yahoo Photos won't allow remote linking anymore. And I haven't updated in a long time, partly because I've been busy, partly because when I am at home I'm lazy, or tired, or sleeping, before I have to be out again. And the two previous posts are a waste because they're mostly pictures and you can't see them, and it's a real pain to go through all that trouble with actually writing code and coming up with captions and alts and have no one see the final product. And yes everyone is bugging me about getting a PictureTrail account but as I've said, I'm lazy and it's the holidays. Who's in the mood for such things?

There's a lot of things I was supposed to talk about but didn't get the opportunity to, and a lot of them may just end up forgotten, but I have to mention some, like Quark's mom's Christmas party for the Belo Medical Group, which was a blast and probably the best company Christmas party I'll ever get to go to. Held at RCBC, not only were employees and guests and friends treated to a terrific dinner, there was a show where each branch would stage a production, and there were even guest celebrities who performed, like Aubrey Miles (who sat behind Chris and laughs kinda funny). Some of us got to judge the productions (all dance numbers) and it was really impressive, especially considering they're not professionals. Lavish costumes and some ingenious choreography, the winning group even used the song Diva Plavalaguna sang in The Fifth Element. There was also a lot of prizes raffled off. Host Ogie had a crush on Chris and I was called Ramon De Vegra.

Hmm... there are more, like the one-year anniversary of The Theft, and the C3 Con held just last weekend, but I'm tired again and will save those stories for later.

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Margie has a blog pala!

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Things you never think about: please read this when you have the time. It's not long. Mark Leyner used the idea of everything you see being the past in the introduction to one of his books, I think it was The Tetherballs of Bougainville. But Kadrey uses it to charming effect.

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I wanted to get this out of my "To Do" list so I submitted some suggestions to The Criterion Collection:

- the films of Wong Kar-Wai, especially the trio of Chungking Express, Fallen Angels, and Happy Together. The current DVD editions of these films are bare, and not particularly nice prints, at that. If they could give it the lavish treatment they did In the Mood for Love, that would be terrific.

- Hal Hartley's Amateur, which isn't even out yet on DVD, as far as I know. Perhaps his other films as well, such as Simple Men, Flirt, and Henry Fool. Flirt especially.

- Kinji Fukasaku's Battle Royale

- the films of David Lynch

- Tony Bui's Three Seasons

- Wayne Wang's Smoke and Blue in the Face (I understand these are to be released in March but knowing Miramax, there won't be any extras to look forward to)

- Mark Waters's The House of Yes

- Noah Baumbach's Kicking & Screaming

- Lino Brocka's Maynila sa Kuko ng Liwanag, as well as his other films such as Orapronobis

- Mike De Leon's Batch 81

- Mathieu Kassovitz's La Haine

- Jean-Pierre Jeunet's Delicatessen

- Anand Tucker's St. Ex

- David Fincher's The Game

- Takeshi Kitano's Hana-bi (Fireworks)

- Hideo Nakata's Ring

These are just off the top of my head. When I think of more I'll send them in.

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"Crocodile Hunter The Same Way In Bed"

Thank God there are some things that are still reliable. Like The Onion. How can you not love a newspaper with headlines like "Killer Kinda Cute" and an opinion article entitled "I Didn't Mean To Lead You On By Fucking You"?

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Oh, and please read this. It's short. Fucked-up, but beatiful.