This is what happens when unfortunate choice of copy and art direction meets bad timing. The first time I saw this Independence Day ad, I honestly thought mahal meant “expensive” given the recent increase in gas prices and other costs. And it doesn’t help that they highlighted the word “mahal” in the layout.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Flagged As “Confusing”
This is what happens when unfortunate choice of copy and art direction meets bad timing. The first time I saw this Independence Day ad, I honestly thought mahal meant “expensive” given the recent increase in gas prices and other costs. And it doesn’t help that they highlighted the word “mahal” in the layout.
Bathhouse Debate
One evening in the bathhouse, this guy made the mistake of engaging me—right after our one-on-one engagement—in a discussion that quickly turned into a one-sided debate. And all because he insisted on impressing on me the importance of “having a special someone in your life.”
Groan. Of all topics, of all places!
It started out simple enough. He asked me why I was still single by choice. And I told him that sometimes there is no choice. It takes two to tango but while there’s no one who wants to dance with me, then I dance alone—or join a dance group.
The initial friction started when I told him I was open to the possibility that after 10 or 15 years with one partner, if it becomes clear to both of us that we’ve grown our separate ways, I am willing for us to break up and remain friends rather than stay in the confines of couplehood.
“Whaaat?!” he practically screeched, despite a valiant effort to keep his voice down. “Why are you so negative?”
“Huh?” For a moment I was flummoxed. “Negative?”
“Yes!” This time he didn’t make an effort to lower his voice, for emphasis I guess. “Bakit mo pinangungunahan ng break-up?! Hindi pa nga kayo, bini-break up mo na. Bakit ang negative mo naman?”
Ting! Something in my brain clicked and went into overdrive. Negative ba kamo, ha?!
“Bakit ang negative mo?” I immediately countered before he could add anything more. “Bakit iniisip mo na ang break-up ay automatically negative? Sometimes breaking up is the best course for both parties.”
Slap! Yan, i-negative mo mukha mo.
Then the next throw-down happened when we went into the whole singe vs. couple issue.
“Man was not meant to be alone,” he said.
“Well, I’m not alone,” I said. “I’ve family, friends, officemates, casual acquaintances….”
He threw me an exasperated look. “It’s different when you wake up and your partner has prepared breakfast for you.”
“And I love how my mom prepares breakfast for me,” I said.
“She’s a mom,” he said.
“Not all moms do that,” I said. “You know what? Your problem is two-fold. First, you assume that everyone in the whole wide world values couplehood the same way you do—not everyone does. Second, comparing singlehood versus couplehood is comparing apples and oranges. You can’t say one is better than the other. It’s not that simple. Some people may thrive on being single and unattached to one person. Besides, you speak of single life as if it’s something bad; it’s not.”
“Okay,” he interrupted. “I will challenge you on that.”
I paused, looked him in the eye and said, “Good! While you’re at it, why don’t you also challenge the late Mother Teresa? Or the late Pope John Paul II? Or how about Jesus Himself? Don’t tell me they lived lesser lives because they had no partner in life!”
“But that’s different,” he said. “They’re religious.”
“And I’m not?” I shot back. “I could actually be a cult leader—you just didn’t know. But seriously, I could actually end up with a particular vocation, you know? Like counseling gay couples.”
“But wouldn’t you want to grow old with someone?” he asked. “Wouldn’t it be great to wake up every morning and see a face beside you in bed?”
“At least I avoid morning breath,” I said. And I know one face I wouldn’t want to see beside me when I wake up.
Slap! Slap!
Groan. Of all topics, of all places!
It started out simple enough. He asked me why I was still single by choice. And I told him that sometimes there is no choice. It takes two to tango but while there’s no one who wants to dance with me, then I dance alone—or join a dance group.
The initial friction started when I told him I was open to the possibility that after 10 or 15 years with one partner, if it becomes clear to both of us that we’ve grown our separate ways, I am willing for us to break up and remain friends rather than stay in the confines of couplehood.
“Whaaat?!” he practically screeched, despite a valiant effort to keep his voice down. “Why are you so negative?”
“Huh?” For a moment I was flummoxed. “Negative?”
“Yes!” This time he didn’t make an effort to lower his voice, for emphasis I guess. “Bakit mo pinangungunahan ng break-up?! Hindi pa nga kayo, bini-break up mo na. Bakit ang negative mo naman?”
Ting! Something in my brain clicked and went into overdrive. Negative ba kamo, ha?!
“Bakit ang negative mo?” I immediately countered before he could add anything more. “Bakit iniisip mo na ang break-up ay automatically negative? Sometimes breaking up is the best course for both parties.”
Slap! Yan, i-negative mo mukha mo.
Then the next throw-down happened when we went into the whole singe vs. couple issue.
“Man was not meant to be alone,” he said.
“Well, I’m not alone,” I said. “I’ve family, friends, officemates, casual acquaintances….”
He threw me an exasperated look. “It’s different when you wake up and your partner has prepared breakfast for you.”
“And I love how my mom prepares breakfast for me,” I said.
“She’s a mom,” he said.
“Not all moms do that,” I said. “You know what? Your problem is two-fold. First, you assume that everyone in the whole wide world values couplehood the same way you do—not everyone does. Second, comparing singlehood versus couplehood is comparing apples and oranges. You can’t say one is better than the other. It’s not that simple. Some people may thrive on being single and unattached to one person. Besides, you speak of single life as if it’s something bad; it’s not.”
“Okay,” he interrupted. “I will challenge you on that.”
I paused, looked him in the eye and said, “Good! While you’re at it, why don’t you also challenge the late Mother Teresa? Or the late Pope John Paul II? Or how about Jesus Himself? Don’t tell me they lived lesser lives because they had no partner in life!”
“But that’s different,” he said. “They’re religious.”
“And I’m not?” I shot back. “I could actually be a cult leader—you just didn’t know. But seriously, I could actually end up with a particular vocation, you know? Like counseling gay couples.”
“But wouldn’t you want to grow old with someone?” he asked. “Wouldn’t it be great to wake up every morning and see a face beside you in bed?”
“At least I avoid morning breath,” I said. And I know one face I wouldn’t want to see beside me when I wake up.
Slap! Slap!
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Commercial Muna!
Tanghalang Ateneo Goes Absurd with “?” Two by Ionesco
Tanghalang Ateneo jumpstarts its 30th Season, Echoes, this July with two modern classics by Eugène Ionesco—Ang Sopranong Kalbo (translated by Rolando S. Tinio) and The Lesson. The double bill of absurd plays, wildly funny on the surface but sinister in its implications, comes together under the name “?” Two by Ionesco.
Ang Sopranong Kalbo introduces “non-characters” who engage in silly banter, storytelling and poetry recitation in attempts to relate with one another. The Lesson is a frustrating attempt by a seemingly harmless professor to teach mathematics and philology to a bright, young girl, an effort that results in violence. Common to both plays is the horror of miscommunication.
“?” showcases the talents of an all-student ensemble. Kalbo has Exzell Macomb and Peanuts Valerio play Mr. and Mrs. Santos while Gelo Brillantes and Ia Solis play the Martins. Regina de Vera portrays the maid, Marie, alongside Mel Pante who portrays the fireman. The Lesson features Mikey Panopio as the Professor, Bea Gulinao as the Pupil and Mon Querubin as the Maid.
Ricardo Abad and BJ Crisostomo co-direct the plays. Set design is by Monica Sebial with Peanuts Valerio and Sam Quizon handling the costume design.
“?” Two by Ionesco runs from July 2 to 5 and 9 to 12 at 7pm, with additional 3pm shows on July 5 and 12 at the Communication Studio of the Ateneo de Manila University. For inquiries, contact Ia Solis at 0916-5415165. For interested teachers, the plays are excellent material for classes in the humanities and the social sciences.
Tanghalang Ateneo jumpstarts its 30th Season, Echoes, this July with two modern classics by Eugène Ionesco—Ang Sopranong Kalbo (translated by Rolando S. Tinio) and The Lesson. The double bill of absurd plays, wildly funny on the surface but sinister in its implications, comes together under the name “?” Two by Ionesco. Ang Sopranong Kalbo introduces “non-characters” who engage in silly banter, storytelling and poetry recitation in attempts to relate with one another. The Lesson is a frustrating attempt by a seemingly harmless professor to teach mathematics and philology to a bright, young girl, an effort that results in violence. Common to both plays is the horror of miscommunication.
“?” showcases the talents of an all-student ensemble. Kalbo has Exzell Macomb and Peanuts Valerio play Mr. and Mrs. Santos while Gelo Brillantes and Ia Solis play the Martins. Regina de Vera portrays the maid, Marie, alongside Mel Pante who portrays the fireman. The Lesson features Mikey Panopio as the Professor, Bea Gulinao as the Pupil and Mon Querubin as the Maid.
Ricardo Abad and BJ Crisostomo co-direct the plays. Set design is by Monica Sebial with Peanuts Valerio and Sam Quizon handling the costume design.
“?” Two by Ionesco runs from July 2 to 5 and 9 to 12 at 7pm, with additional 3pm shows on July 5 and 12 at the Communication Studio of the Ateneo de Manila University. For inquiries, contact Ia Solis at 0916-5415165. For interested teachers, the plays are excellent material for classes in the humanities and the social sciences.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Advice Squad
One morning I got a text message from Gibbs Cadiz. Two of our blogger-friends, Coy (CokskiBlue) and Joe (JoeBreaker), just recently graduated and Gibbs was planning a surprise blog entry for them. It’s an “Advice for the recent graduates” type of entry, and Gibbs wondered if I could contribute something. I immediately said yes, but asked if I can submit mine in the evening since my workload was pretty toxic that day. End day, I quickly typed my piece and immediately emailed it to Gibbs.
And then I checked out Gibb’s blog.
OMG! Gibbs had already posted an entry for Coy and Joe, featuring a speech delivered by the great Alan Alda. After reading it, I SMS’ed Gibbs: “Are you nuts? Alan Alda’s speech as an opening act? How the hell can we top that?!”
In fairness to Gibbs, he actually asked several of his friends to give their two-cents worth. And I loved the way he collated and put into context the various voices of his friends (not to mention his adroit editing of my piece). So while we may not have topped Alda, at least we gave our own Pinoy take on life after graduation (click here to read part 2 of Gibb’s series). It was generous of Gibbs to come up with those blog entries for Coy, Joe and other fresh graduates. And I enjoyed writing for it as much as I enjoyed reading the entries.
Meanwhile, I’m reposting here what I wrote for Coy and Joe.
* * * * *
TO THE CLASS OF 2008:
I’m no Baz Luhrmann, so pardon the crude facsimile.
To those entering the workforce, if there’s one advice I can offer you, it is this: Moisturize.
Make lots of mistakes when you’re young. You can still make mistakes when you’re older, but they’ll be more costly. But always make sure you learn from your mistakes.
Scratch your itches—as much as you can, as early as possible. When responsibilities are fewer and your movements freer, go and pursue as many different pursuits that interest you. If you have a lot, start earlier. If you’ve zoomed in on just several or a few, then you’ll have your whole life to pursue them longer. Or you’ll have the time and energy to discover new pursuits.
While you still have no idea of your monetary worth, choose that which interests you rather than what pays you more. When you’re older and you need the money more, then you will have the right to price yourself.
Learn to allot some me-time for yourself during the day. You can spend part of lunchtime reading a book, or taking a walk, or eating your lunch in the park. 15 to 20 minutes is enough—you’re not yet entitled to hour-long lunches.
Prove yourself always. Employers will only value you if you value yourself and you value your work. Prove to yourself what you are capable of; and then you prove to others that they need you.
No one is indispensable. That’s why proving oneself is a lifelong task, even if only to yourself.
Never ask anyone how much his salary is, and never tell anyone how much you’re getting. (Although starting salaries are usually standard, when a fellow new hire asks you how much you’re getting, just say, “Starting salary.”)
Have fun. The job will take up most of your waking hours. If you’re not having fun, then where’s the fun in that?
This too shall pass. There are good days; there are bad days. There will be days when you’re crowned king of the world. Be humble; this too shall pass. There will be days when you just want the earth to open up and swallow you whole. Chin up; this too shall pass.
Never stop learning.
Learn how to shrug your shoulders. At the end of the day, it’s just a job. There are more important things in life; they’re the ones you leave behind in the morning and go home to at night during weekdays (and some weekends). Unless you join a call center and they put you in the graveyard shift. In either case—day job or night shift—the ravages of age will take its toll on your skin. So always moisturize.
* * * * *
Inspired by Baz Luhrmann’s “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)”
And then I checked out Gibb’s blog.
OMG! Gibbs had already posted an entry for Coy and Joe, featuring a speech delivered by the great Alan Alda. After reading it, I SMS’ed Gibbs: “Are you nuts? Alan Alda’s speech as an opening act? How the hell can we top that?!”
In fairness to Gibbs, he actually asked several of his friends to give their two-cents worth. And I loved the way he collated and put into context the various voices of his friends (not to mention his adroit editing of my piece). So while we may not have topped Alda, at least we gave our own Pinoy take on life after graduation (click here to read part 2 of Gibb’s series). It was generous of Gibbs to come up with those blog entries for Coy, Joe and other fresh graduates. And I enjoyed writing for it as much as I enjoyed reading the entries.
Meanwhile, I’m reposting here what I wrote for Coy and Joe.
* * * * *
TO THE CLASS OF 2008:
I’m no Baz Luhrmann, so pardon the crude facsimile. To those entering the workforce, if there’s one advice I can offer you, it is this: Moisturize.
Make lots of mistakes when you’re young. You can still make mistakes when you’re older, but they’ll be more costly. But always make sure you learn from your mistakes.
Scratch your itches—as much as you can, as early as possible. When responsibilities are fewer and your movements freer, go and pursue as many different pursuits that interest you. If you have a lot, start earlier. If you’ve zoomed in on just several or a few, then you’ll have your whole life to pursue them longer. Or you’ll have the time and energy to discover new pursuits.
While you still have no idea of your monetary worth, choose that which interests you rather than what pays you more. When you’re older and you need the money more, then you will have the right to price yourself.
Learn to allot some me-time for yourself during the day. You can spend part of lunchtime reading a book, or taking a walk, or eating your lunch in the park. 15 to 20 minutes is enough—you’re not yet entitled to hour-long lunches.
Prove yourself always. Employers will only value you if you value yourself and you value your work. Prove to yourself what you are capable of; and then you prove to others that they need you.
No one is indispensable. That’s why proving oneself is a lifelong task, even if only to yourself.
Never ask anyone how much his salary is, and never tell anyone how much you’re getting. (Although starting salaries are usually standard, when a fellow new hire asks you how much you’re getting, just say, “Starting salary.”)
Have fun. The job will take up most of your waking hours. If you’re not having fun, then where’s the fun in that?
This too shall pass. There are good days; there are bad days. There will be days when you’re crowned king of the world. Be humble; this too shall pass. There will be days when you just want the earth to open up and swallow you whole. Chin up; this too shall pass.
Never stop learning.
Learn how to shrug your shoulders. At the end of the day, it’s just a job. There are more important things in life; they’re the ones you leave behind in the morning and go home to at night during weekdays (and some weekends). Unless you join a call center and they put you in the graveyard shift. In either case—day job or night shift—the ravages of age will take its toll on your skin. So always moisturize.
* * * * *
Inspired by Baz Luhrmann’s “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)”
Monday, June 02, 2008
Don’t Cha Wish…
…these girl friends were replaced by hot hunks?Saturday evening in Bed: it was a night sponsored by some alcho-pop brand. Because it has several flavor variants, they decided to introduce the variants via a dance number featuring performances by individuals representing each variant. Unfortunately these individuals were all girls—as in, anatomically correct females since birth. And they each performed sexy dances in front of a crowd of gay men. So while there were cheers and whistles (one girl did impressive splits and shook her tush with a magnitude of 7.8 on the Richter scale), I for one had a bemused and slightly shocked expression on my face. Why real girls? Why not hire impersonators? Better yet, why didn’t they hire sexy men? What was the brand manager thinking? Was he on drugs? Was he drunk on his own product?
Towards the end of their act, the girls brought out chairs and lined them up onstage. Then they proceeded to bump and grind and shoot supposedly seductive looks into the audience. At one point they were all seated, looking like they were in a classroom. Sorry girls, but this class is dismissed.
A Puzzle
Imagine you have a crush on this guy. You’re attracted to him physically and—perhaps at that time—emotionally. After going out with him several times (coffee and movie only, no hanky-panky), you tell him you’re interested in him. But he turns you down, saying the immortal line: Let’s just be friends.
Excuse me. I have more than enough friends already. And they are great people so I don’t see any need to replace any one of them.
How can you be friends at that point? Hellerrrrrrr?! So you tell him, sorry but you can’t be friends until you get over him. As in, the sight of him doesn’t make you wish you and he are together. As in, you don’t get jealous when he tells you about his gym crushes who stare back at him while working out. As in, over and done with, period, no erase, pass your papers. And only after then, maybe, just maybe, when there are no more ulterior motives on your part, you may meet up with him and maybe, just maybe, the two of you may hit it off—as just friends. But that is one big maybe.
So when after several weeks he starts YM-ing you, asking “Are we friends again?”, part of you gets really suspicious. What’s the hurry? Can’t wait? Can’t find anybody else to be your friend? Part of you wants to tell him: If you really want us to be friends, you’d just let me be. Because friendship cannot be forced—it happens or it doesn’t.
And so you wonder, what’s his motivation for wanting to be friends ASAP? And you start to consider different reasons: Genuine feelings on his part? Desperately lacking friends? User-friendly ulterior motives? But since you’re no mind-reader, you end up just that—wondering.
And since he isn’t even interested in reading your blog, you just blog about it instead.
Excuse me. I have more than enough friends already. And they are great people so I don’t see any need to replace any one of them.
How can you be friends at that point? Hellerrrrrrr?! So you tell him, sorry but you can’t be friends until you get over him. As in, the sight of him doesn’t make you wish you and he are together. As in, you don’t get jealous when he tells you about his gym crushes who stare back at him while working out. As in, over and done with, period, no erase, pass your papers. And only after then, maybe, just maybe, when there are no more ulterior motives on your part, you may meet up with him and maybe, just maybe, the two of you may hit it off—as just friends. But that is one big maybe.
So when after several weeks he starts YM-ing you, asking “Are we friends again?”, part of you gets really suspicious. What’s the hurry? Can’t wait? Can’t find anybody else to be your friend? Part of you wants to tell him: If you really want us to be friends, you’d just let me be. Because friendship cannot be forced—it happens or it doesn’t.
And so you wonder, what’s his motivation for wanting to be friends ASAP? And you start to consider different reasons: Genuine feelings on his part? Desperately lacking friends? User-friendly ulterior motives? But since you’re no mind-reader, you end up just that—wondering.
And since he isn’t even interested in reading your blog, you just blog about it instead.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Quickies
(PLUS: An additional reaction to the movie Sa Pagdapo Ng Mariposa at the end.)
* * * * *
Movies, not sex. Sorry to disappoint.
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. For months I’ve been stoked on the trailer. After all, the last movie was released almost 20 years ago. But I couldn’t watch it on the first day it opened, so I waited for the weekend to watch it with the rest of the family. The absence of buzz around it on its first few days was an ominous sign that the Spielberg/Lucas fan in me conveniently ignored.
The opening sequence re-introducing Indy and introducing new baddie (played by Cate Blanchett) plays out beautifully, at once reminding us of the sheer joys of popcorn movies and the giddy propulsion of a great action sequence pumped up by a master director. And when Indy blasts out of the hangar, a partially-wrecked crate reveals the Ark of the Covenant from Raiders of the Lost Ark, a wonderful nod to the movie that started it all.
After that, unfortunately, is when the movie started to flatline. And this despite a literally atomic scene, the introduction of Mutt (played by It-Boy-of-the-moment Shia LaBeouf), the re-introduction of Marion (welcome back, Karen Allen—where have you been?), lots of nods to former characters now gone, lots of sword-fighting, lots more ants and an extra-terrestrial mystery that I felt should have been more mystery and less extra-terrestrial. Maybe the script spent so much time trying to explain the whos and the whats of the plot. Maybe over-the-top is not as fun when it’s not propelled by sheer kinetic energy that sweeps logic aside. (Really now, Indy in a refrigerator with nary a broken bone? Three times falling off huge waterfalls and no one goes missing or drowning?)
And what do we get in the end? It was X-Files: The Movie all over again. Maybe the joys of the franchise are as old as Harrison Ford. Maybe it’s time for new blood to kick the franchise into high gear again. Indiana Jones by way of Jason Bourne. Maybe that would be something.
Boy Culture. As co-adapted and directed by Q. Allan Brocka based on a novel by Matthew Rettenmund, this movie zips by efficiently and entertainingly. And he knows how to maximize his actors, from their talents to their torsos and tushes. The movie is an interesting take on commitment and taking chances. And it does have interesting insights on the gay culture, especially regarding hook ups and the bar scenes. But as often with these kinds of movies, you get the oh-it’s-so-difficult-to-be-with-him beginning, the complicated dance in the middle, the seemingly sad deal breaker, the last-minute revelation, the wonderful kiss and the fade out in the end. Not all of them are predictable, but you could feel the hand of Fiction in the twists and turns. Nothing about the difficult, boring, messy, tedious every day Reality that happens in between scenes and, more importantly, after the fade-out. I guess that’s why writer/director Broka’s screenplay calls it for what it is: folks, this is just a movie.
Once. On the other hand, this small Academy-award winning movie (for Best Song, “Falling Slowly”) is surprisingly real. The performances (by real musicians and first-time actors) are real. The hand-held camera work feels real (as opposed to jittery-distracting). And the songs are genuinely moving. What’s more, the relationship that develops between the two lead characters feels real. While I was watching their closeness unfold, I was ready to jerk back at any moment, wary of the cliché falling-in-love moments that a million Hollywood movies have done before. But the movie would teeter towards it—and then surprisingly it shifts, like well-placed chord progressions in any one of the magnificent tunes (I gotta get me the soundtrack!) featured in the film. And most importantly, the resolution in the end feels real. Unlike Boy Culture, this movie kept me wondering what will happen next. As unexpected as it is moving, this movie is worth watching, even only once.
And then I watched Sa Pagdapo Ng Mariposa.
The movie was too episodic, but I suppose that helped lull the audience from anticipating and predicting the movie. There were too many peripheral characters, though in fairness the director was able to juggle all of them without confusing the audience much. And there was too much music that a lot of times sounded inappropriate for their scenes and called too much attention to themselves.
But this movie earns major brownie points for going off into unexpected directions and eventually pulling the rug from under my feet. Throughout the movie I was going: So this is a gay film. No, wait; this is not a gay film, this is a seriously-fucked-up-guy film. Hold it—oh, it is a gay film. Wait a minute—it’s a murder mystery?! And then: WTF?!
When the revelation of crying game proportions occurred, my jaw fell on the floor. Suddenly it was, where the fuck is this movie going? And I mean that as a compliment. In one fell swoop this film turns the recent gay-indie mini-trend on its head.
* * * * *
Movies, not sex. Sorry to disappoint.
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. For months I’ve been stoked on the trailer. After all, the last movie was released almost 20 years ago. But I couldn’t watch it on the first day it opened, so I waited for the weekend to watch it with the rest of the family. The absence of buzz around it on its first few days was an ominous sign that the Spielberg/Lucas fan in me conveniently ignored.The opening sequence re-introducing Indy and introducing new baddie (played by Cate Blanchett) plays out beautifully, at once reminding us of the sheer joys of popcorn movies and the giddy propulsion of a great action sequence pumped up by a master director. And when Indy blasts out of the hangar, a partially-wrecked crate reveals the Ark of the Covenant from Raiders of the Lost Ark, a wonderful nod to the movie that started it all.
After that, unfortunately, is when the movie started to flatline. And this despite a literally atomic scene, the introduction of Mutt (played by It-Boy-of-the-moment Shia LaBeouf), the re-introduction of Marion (welcome back, Karen Allen—where have you been?), lots of nods to former characters now gone, lots of sword-fighting, lots more ants and an extra-terrestrial mystery that I felt should have been more mystery and less extra-terrestrial. Maybe the script spent so much time trying to explain the whos and the whats of the plot. Maybe over-the-top is not as fun when it’s not propelled by sheer kinetic energy that sweeps logic aside. (Really now, Indy in a refrigerator with nary a broken bone? Three times falling off huge waterfalls and no one goes missing or drowning?)
And what do we get in the end? It was X-Files: The Movie all over again. Maybe the joys of the franchise are as old as Harrison Ford. Maybe it’s time for new blood to kick the franchise into high gear again. Indiana Jones by way of Jason Bourne. Maybe that would be something.
Boy Culture. As co-adapted and directed by Q. Allan Brocka based on a novel by Matthew Rettenmund, this movie zips by efficiently and entertainingly. And he knows how to maximize his actors, from their talents to their torsos and tushes. The movie is an interesting take on commitment and taking chances. And it does have interesting insights on the gay culture, especially regarding hook ups and the bar scenes. But as often with these kinds of movies, you get the oh-it’s-so-difficult-to-be-with-him beginning, the complicated dance in the middle, the seemingly sad deal breaker, the last-minute revelation, the wonderful kiss and the fade out in the end. Not all of them are predictable, but you could feel the hand of Fiction in the twists and turns. Nothing about the difficult, boring, messy, tedious every day Reality that happens in between scenes and, more importantly, after the fade-out. I guess that’s why writer/director Broka’s screenplay calls it for what it is: folks, this is just a movie. 
Once. On the other hand, this small Academy-award winning movie (for Best Song, “Falling Slowly”) is surprisingly real. The performances (by real musicians and first-time actors) are real. The hand-held camera work feels real (as opposed to jittery-distracting). And the songs are genuinely moving. What’s more, the relationship that develops between the two lead characters feels real. While I was watching their closeness unfold, I was ready to jerk back at any moment, wary of the cliché falling-in-love moments that a million Hollywood movies have done before. But the movie would teeter towards it—and then surprisingly it shifts, like well-placed chord progressions in any one of the magnificent tunes (I gotta get me the soundtrack!) featured in the film. And most importantly, the resolution in the end feels real. Unlike Boy Culture, this movie kept me wondering what will happen next. As unexpected as it is moving, this movie is worth watching, even only once.And then I watched Sa Pagdapo Ng Mariposa.
The movie was too episodic, but I suppose that helped lull the audience from anticipating and predicting the movie. There were too many peripheral characters, though in fairness the director was able to juggle all of them without confusing the audience much. And there was too much music that a lot of times sounded inappropriate for their scenes and called too much attention to themselves. But this movie earns major brownie points for going off into unexpected directions and eventually pulling the rug from under my feet. Throughout the movie I was going: So this is a gay film. No, wait; this is not a gay film, this is a seriously-fucked-up-guy film. Hold it—oh, it is a gay film. Wait a minute—it’s a murder mystery?! And then: WTF?!
When the revelation of crying game proportions occurred, my jaw fell on the floor. Suddenly it was, where the fuck is this movie going? And I mean that as a compliment. In one fell swoop this film turns the recent gay-indie mini-trend on its head.
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