Producing this film may be Piolo Pascual’s smartest career move so far. Eugene Domingo is BRILLIANT.
And what’s better than watching Kimmy Dora? Watching it with Eugene Domingo sitting IN THE ROW IN FRONT OF US!
This picture was taken in Glorietta 4, outside Cinema 6. Ms Domingo was very nice.
Watch the film. I command you.
My right eye is a traitor. So in order to prevent its inevitable deterioration, doc says I have to wear glasses whenever I’m in front of a computer.
Fine. (Sigh.)
* * *
District 9 is absolutely brilliant. I will not say anything more. I deliberately avoided reading the summary or any blog entries or film reviews discussing this, so maybe you should too.
* * *
Meanwhile, at the Philippines Free Press Literary Awards
When our names weren’t called, Dean Alfar turned to me and sang, Don’t cry out louuuuud. But I wasn’t crying. I didn’t even expect to be shortlisted!
But the night became so much fun because –
Okay, later. Look at this list first:
Judges (Poetry) Ricardo de Ungria chairman, Danton Remoto, Neil Garcia
Judges (Short Story) Charlson Ong chairman, Timothy Montes, Dr. Paraluman Giron
Finalists (Short Story) Sunboy by Dean Francis Alfar, Bad Heart by John Bengan, Outlaws, by Mary Jessel B. Duque, Big Yellow by Jean Claire Dy, The Death of Roy by Sharmaine Galve, Photo Sessions by Joy Anne Icayan, Catherine Theory by Sasha Martinez, Epic Life by Rhea Politado, Marita Pangan by Mechu Aquino Sarmiento, Wishes Do Come True by Mia Tijam, An Abduction by Mermaids by Eliza Victoria
Finalists (Poetry) Infinite Mondays by Mads Bajarias, Mebuyen by Mikael de Lara Co, Textbook Statistics by Arkaye Kierulf, Slowness by Marie La Vina, Instructions by Marie La Vina, Meals Without You by Arvin Mangohig, It Is 1980 by Natasha Gamalinda, Poet Looks at Satellite Picture of Home by Sid Gomez Hildawa, Poet Talks to an Old Movie by Sid Gomez Hildawa, The Little Things by Rafael Antonio C. San Diego
Winners (Fiction): 3rd Place: Catherine Theory/Bad Heart (tie), 2nd Place: Marita Pangan, 1st Place: Epic Life
Winners (Poetry): 3rd Place: Mebuyen, 2nd Place: (one of Hildawa’s poem, sorry I can’t remember), 1st Place: Textbook Statistics
Congrats to the winners!
* * *
As I was saying: the night became so much fun because I was finally able to attach a face and a voice to the names in my email Inbox, and my Plurk/Twitter pages.
I am still reeling: Before the program began, crazy crazy talk with Dean and Nikki Alfar, Alex, Kate, and Vin Simbulan, and EK. Always a pleasure.
When Sarge Lacuesta read the names of the finalists in Fiction, some people behind me cheered and applauded. I knew there were people behind me but I also knew that I do not know them. Why are they cheering? Who are these people?
Then a voice asking Dean, “Kilala mo?” and Dean saying, “Ito, ito.”
I turned and there was Mikael de Lara Co, who said he loved my poems (the ones that won the Palanca). When he said his name I couldn’t stop myself, I felt the need to clutch his arms and blurt out: I LOVE YOUR POEMS OMGZ. Yes. Like a crazy fangirl. Ew.
Mookie Katigbak, Sarge’s lovely wife, even actually said they are “big fans”. Or maybe she meant, some people she knew are “big fans”. Fuck it, I heard big fans and my brain didn’t even want to accept it.
Mookie: It is a big win. It is such a big win. We were saying Who is this? Who is this? And you look so young!
When she asked my age and I said 22, EK turned to me and said, “No way you’re 22.”
Very 22, sister. So sorry.
I finally met Sarge and Carl. Yay!
Philbert was also there, but I didn’t get the chance to talk to him. Anyway, he probably wouldn’t remember me.
Crazy Sharmaine kept saying Palanca Award! Palanca Award! Like she couldn’t believe it. Well, I couldn’t believe it, so there.
When I approached Charlson Ong and introduced myself, he said, Maganda ‘yung istorya mo.
Love it.
Can’t wait to see these guys again at the Palanca awarding ceremonies, eeh.
* * *
So I didn’t win, but I win Best Title, sabi nga ng mga Alfars, hahaha.
* * *
Special thanks to EK for the pictures (photos are over here) and the company. Enjoyed the chika. <3
* * *
When I got home, Nina and Tere, the girls from the flat, stepped out of the elevator, saw me, and said they have been looking for me, and oh, do you drink?
All in all, lovely night. (It’s one in the morning and I am typing this intoxicated.)
and fifth
Okaaaaaaaay, go!
Up
I hate the people at Pixar because they’re sickening geniuses. They can make anything work, anything at all. An old man who flies off with his entire house? Using balloons? Done, they say, and guess what? We’ll make you cry, too. Damn them. Amazing how they are able to hide the real story of this animated masterpiece and still be able to show an effective film trailer. The opening montage, sans dialogue, is very poetic, a beauty. Even Partly Cloudy, the short film that precedes it, is a treat!
I hate the people at Pixar, oh I really do. I abhor them.
Bedtime Stories – I knew that was Lucy Lawless! I knew it! I love you, Xena!
Nice, warm, family film. I love it, except for the overload of cheesiness in the end. Eh, it’s a Disney film, what did I expect right.
I Love You, Man – Jason Segel nails it as the sunshiny Sydney. Awkwardness on top of awkwardness on top of awkwardness. The “You’re a whore, Peter” confrontation scene made me laugh. Fun.
Akane-iro Ni Somaru Saka – Funny enough adult animated Japanese series, but feels to me as if it simply ran out of time. On to Skip Beat!, then, which seems more promising.
* * *
A Really Random Life Share – Last night I was in Greenbelt with a female friend. We were sitting near the glass wall inside Starbucks. Outside was a foreigner, a male Caucasian. While my friend and I were talking, this guy knocked on the glass, pointed at the two of us, and gave us a thumb’s-up. He did it twice, maybe just in case we didn’t see him the first time. What the fuck.
(Unless he’s a proud gay man who was just showing his approval of what he thought was a loving, lesbian relationship. Then I suppose the interruption was cool.)
(Nah, I didn’t think so, too.)
Confession time: Usually after reading a book, I review it immediately, but I had a hard time reviewing The Time Traveler’s Wife because I couldn’t figure out then (I read it last year I think) whether I liked it or not. I couldn’t match my friends’ crazy worship of the book, and I thought it might be necessary to do a bit of reevaluation.
I admire it, that’s for sure. It’s a very well-constructed story, and the language is gorgeous. However, the narrative style felt inconsistent to me. Inconsistent in the way that at times Henry sounds like Clare (the book is divided into segments, with two perspectives – Clare’s and Henry’s). There is an entire block of description about a dance that did nothing to me. At that point where Henry tells Clare about how his mother died, I cringed. Not because it is gruesome, but because it is too gruesome to be believed. My reaction was not, How awful; it was Oh really? It did not help me some that the melodrama reaches a high at that point in the book. Drama, yes. Melodrama, no. Gomez and his wife are interesting characters, but their communist posturing gets old after several chapters.
Just my opinion. I only read the book once, so perhaps I may have to read it again. Don’t shoot me.
* * *
Photo from scifiwire.com
Bottom line is, it’s a damn good premise. Good enough for a film? Why of course. The film itself has high production values, everything looks pretty. Rachel McAdams has a lovely smile, and Ron Livingston is a joy to watch. (Not too much of an Eric Bana fan, haha.)
It can, however, use more pauses, more silences. And with a running time of only 108 minutes, it can actually use another hour.
Most effective scene for me: When Henry meets his mother on the subway. Heartbreaking.
Grave of the Fireflies
An air raid. A boy carries his baby sister on his back and sits in the shelter, away from the bombs. Their house is no more. Later, their mother dies. In the midst of the carnage, the fire, the charred remains of his neighbors, a man in a soldier’s uniform stands tall and screams, Long live the Emperor!
This is World War II through the eyes of two Japanese children trying to survive motherless, perhaps fatherless (their father fights in the Navy, under the flag of the Empire), months before their country’s unconditional surrender. How easy it is to forget that there are also victims on the side of the “enemy”. Grave of the Fireflies forces us to become witnesses, to mourn the unmourned. Brother and sister comfort each other, play as children play, in scenes tender and heartbreaking. Even the happy scenes – Seita and Setsuko playing in the beach, catching fireflies in their aunt’s backyard, cooking their own dinner – become unbearable in their sweetness. What consolation can one expect from a film that begins with the line, September 21, 1945 – this was the night I died? There is consolation, perhaps, in the fact that this story is told, that we are made to remember.
I watched it twice in one day – alone the first time, with my brothers the second time. The film rendered my brothers silent, stunning them. It was my second viewing, and yet I did not think that the intensity of the film was diminished. One of my favorite scenes: Seita tells Setsuko about a naval review he saw when he was still an only child; he remembers seeing his father’s ship, the Maya, in formation with the rest of the fleet. He says, in a soft voice, I wonder where Dad’s fighting now. Setsuko is silent. Seita turns and sees that she has fallen asleep, on the far side of their bed. Seita rolls over twice, puts his hand over his sleeping sister, pulls her close.
I believe my siblings and I agree that this has got to be the most powerful war film we’ve ever seen in our entire lives.
The Hangover
Setup: Doug is getting married, so his friends and his future brother-in-law take him to Vegas. They climb to the rooftop of Caesar’s Palace, make a toast, drink. They wake up the next morning. One of the recliners is burnt. Doug’s dentist friend is missing an incisor. There is a tiger in the bathroom. And oh, Doug is missing.
This film is fun. No, FUN – from beginning to end. Oh yes.
The Ocean Waves
What is it about certain Japanese animated films that make the cheesy palatable and bearable? If this were a live-action film, I’d definitely be gagging.
Simple and sweet, with nostalgia effectively conveyed. But during the first half of the film –
Me: I think this is yaoi.
Brother: Stop it. There’s a girl and a boy on the DVD cover.
Me: [Onscreen, Boy 1 says, “So why did you call me here? Didn’t you want to tell me something?” Boy 2 replies, “No. I just wanted to see you, that’s all.”] Did you hear that?
Brother: (worried) If this is yaoi we’d better watch something else.
Me: [Onscreen, a flashback.] Look at this, they’re alone in the room together, there’s a pretty piano piece on the soundtrack, a breeze just blew through the curtains.
Brother: Magtigil ka nga ano.
Me: [Onscreen, Boy 1 narrates, I began thinking of Boy 2, different from the way I think of my other friends] (to myself) Either I’m over-reading, or there’s something completely wrong with the subtitles.
It was not yaoi.
Me: *facepalm*
Me, later: It’s like the writers started out with yaoi and then lost their nerve. Seriously, the girl’s like an ornament.
Brother: …
Akane-iro ni Somaru Saka
I don’t know what the title means, but it’s a Japanese animated series, very short, less than 15 episodes. A brother and a sister come to realize that they may be in love with each other. Taboo what? I’m on episode 6, and my head is already aching.
In conclusion,
I want to learn Japanese. I have this rather silly notion that maybe just maybe it’ll be much easier to learn than French. Then maybe I’ll be able to watch Princess Mononoke and Grave of the Fireflies sans the dubbing and the English subtitles. Won’t that be grand.
Public Enemies
Ah, the 1930’s. The curly hair, the cigarette smoke, the jazz singer, the slow dance, the red, red lips. The outlaw, the girl that has to be got, the agent of the law. The stuff film noir is made of. The 1930’s meant all these things, and also the Great Depression, economic poverty so awful it actually required a name in uppercase. But in the cinema we don’t smell the dirty clothes, the stale breath, we don’t feel the heat. So even here, the Great Depression is beautiful. How cool John Dillinger and the rest of his men look in trenchcoats, with those hats, how stylish, how slick. This is not the History of John Dillinger; in the film, we learn nothing more than what he tells Billie. My father beat me up when I was a kid, and I’m into you. The film is about the chase, and the power of Dillinger’s mere presence. And why learn about his past? Why care? Dillinger says It’s not about where we came from, it’s where we’re going. The lines in the film are very calculated, very Hollywood. You’re toast, etc. Much like Clark Gable’s lines in Manhattan Melodrama, the last film Dillinger sees before he is shot to death. He’s living in a film, the people outside the police car shouting at him are fans, and so he waves. He has the right to say It’s not about where we came from, it’s where we’re going, and not be called cheesy.
G.I. Joe
What the world needs now is another film based on Hasbro toys. So sayeth Hollywood and here we are. I watched it just two days ago and I can’t recall much of anything, except Hot brunette Sienna Miller is hot. It’s okay, the special FX in some of the earlier scenes made me cringe (I mean seriously, can’t the producers spend more money?), but it’s, erm, well it’s an action film featuring the military, so it’s loud and it’s nuts. I thought the chase in Paris was fun.
It’s bearable. More bearable than the craptastic Transfomers 2, but far less fun than, let’s say, Star Trek, or even the first Transformers.
Channing Tatum can’t act. Watching his facial expressions not change is painful. Sienna Miller is so hot it’s painful.
Who Stole the Funny? by Robby Benson
Benson has directed episodes of shows like Ellen and Friends, so he knows his stuff. In this novel, he writes about director J.T. Baker, who has a son in need of a kidney transplant. Baker, who has moved away from Hollywood to teach and has vowed never to enter a soundstage again, is called forth to guest-direct the hit show My Urban Buddies (which is Friends, only on liquid Vicodin). If he succeeds in directing three episodes, he gets to renew his Directors’ Guild insurance and pay for whatever medical procedure his son needs. Who Stole the Funny? tells the story of a single week on and off the set of the Buddies show. On almost every page is a box, a word, and a definition for that word, in case you don’t speak Hollywood. For example, Baker is believed to be a passionate director.
The Passionate: Troublemakers. Loose cannons. Delusional shmucks who believe they can elevate the quality of the show. Passion in television is bad – very bad!
I had fun reading it. I’d like to see it on the big screen.
I swear, they’re following me. Usually it’s the other way around.
* * *
Trinoma. July 31. I went straight to Fully Booked because I was meaning to buy either Little Brother or House of Leaves. Both were not available, so I finally picked up a (cheaper) copy of French’s The Likeness.
Powerbooks. I entered the store just for the heck of it. (Normally I try to avoid entering another bookstore after a purchase; budget budget budget.) The word budget flew out the window. It’s a sale! There were two tables full of books at 80 % off!
I got:
Who Stole The Funny? P105 (orig. P500+)
The Society of Others P79 (orig P400?)
* * *
August 1. At Market! Market! with Eula. It took us perhaps half an hour before we realized that it was National Book Store that was having this utterly ridiculous sale. Ridiculous, I tell you. I was able to grab a book that went for P5. Even the cashier looked stunned.
I also got my first DeLillo book whee. :D
dot.bomb P5 (this looks like a P400+ kind of book)
Falling Man P35 (P500+?)
* * *
Enough. Broke. Way too many unread books already. Enough.
* * *
Oh, we peeked in at the Fully Booked Book Grab. Not during the actual contest, though. We saw the cordoned-off area, the books up er for grabs. I saw only one book worth grabbing: Specimen Days by Michael Cunningham. There were mostly travel books. No thanks.
(It’s highly possible that I’m just being bitter here.)
* * *
Quick, Quick Movie Reviews
Ice Age 3 is fun, similar to those animated films that children today will enjoy, and which years later will probably make them go, Listen to all these sexual innuendos!
I saw it in 3D with my brother, and having done that I now have serious doubts about viewing anything in 3D. The whole time my eyes ached and I could only think sore eyes sore eyes sore eyes.
Wearing glasses inside a cinema felt like wearing a cap inside a church for me.
AND 3D’s expensive.
Meanwhile, I found Orphan surprisingly effective as a thriller. It’s entertaining. I enjoyed watching it. I won’t discourage anyone from watching it. ;)
And yes, Cyril, I won’t judge anyone’s film tastes ever again LOL.
(Nah. I probably still will.)
I didn’t know Peter Sarsgaard is in this film. He is love. <3
And did you see Leo DiCaprio’s name in the list of producers? Strange.
Eliza Victoria 