Now Here’s The Ultimate Indy Film!

When I saw the following trailer at Galleria, I felt like a kid again—in a good way.



When Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) was first shown, I saw it a total of 5 or 6 times on the big screen. Yes, I loved it that much. I was in high school and by that time my parents allowed me to watch movies on my own. I especially got a kick out of the scene when they opened the Ark of the Covenant and the angels of death came out. The face-melting scene alone was worth the price of admission.



The second movie in the trilogy was also the weakest for me. Sure, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984) featured a great opening song number and an opening sequence (stealing the diamond while drugged) that’s a tour-de-force example of Spielberg’s directorial skills.


(Unfortunately the only clip I can find on YouTube has several guys annotating, so you don’t see the whole opening number. But you’ll get the drift.)

But what made the movie weak for me was the general morbid darkness permeating the whole movie (in the DVD documentary, George Lucas confesses that he was going through his divorce at that time, which may have influenced the script; in an ironic counterpoint, Doom was where Spielberg met his future wife Kate Capshaw). That, and the presence of that irritating kid.

The third movie had an additional character that helped deepen Indy’s character. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989) had Sean Connery playing Henry Jones, Sr.



It was a fine return to form for Spielberg, Lucas and company, combining whip-smart action sequences with snappy dialogue and a welcome sense of humor throughout the film. However, the third movie did not have the element of surprise and wonder that the first movie had, so it remains my second best of the trilogy.

Wait, what trilogy? There’s the fourth one, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, and the cast alone is making my nose bleed. Aside from Harrison Ford (who was hilarious in the Jimmy Kimmel’s “I’m Fucking Ben Affleck” video), Karen Allen reprises her role from Raiders, Marion Ravenwood (for me, still the best and strongest female role in the trilogy). Then there’s the new Hollywood IT Boy, Shia LaBeouf (who’s my vote for Actor Most In Need Of A New Screen Name). And—gasp! gasp! gasp!—the inimitable Cate Blanchett plays the bad guy, er, girl (heck, she could be playing a guy here; after all, she’s already played Bob Dylan and Jon Stewart!), Russian agent Irina Spalko. Yes, she’s the girl with the black wig in the trailer.

Can’t wait for May 2008.

Honk My Horn If I Like McVie

I received an email from an online friend from Jakarta, and he wrote: “i met up a filipino guy in jakarta who is a photographer. U might know him. When i ask him about u... he actually told me that u r someone who is quite famous in town and ur blog is quite well-known amongst the gay society”

What the—?!

Alright, whoever you are, fess up! Have you been talking about me? Huh? I personally know only two (professional) photographers; neither is in Jakarta, as far as I know. My gosh, I’m just an ordinary bloke from a small town (okay, okay, city na nga pala) of Marikina. I don’t quite mingle with gay society (is there a gay society here?). My blog has much, much less traffic than Gibbs or Mig’s MGG. It’s never been nominated to any of the blog awards, big or small. I don’t get invitations to any of the blogger activities and events. And I have so much less detractors than some of my colleagues (you know you’ve got it made when you have detractors wasting their time and effort on you when they could have spent it on something more constructive, like world peace or something). I prefer a niche profile, if you don’t mind.

Then again, that’s Jakarta. Oh all right, blab about me in Jakarta then.

A Whole Lotta Fuckin’ Going On

It started with comedienne Sarah Silverman making a hilarious music video “I’m Fucking Matt Damon” with—gasp!—Matt Damon himself. That clip debuted on her boyfriend Jimmy Kimmel’s talk show when she was a guest there.


Of course Jimmy Kimmel couldn’t let an opportunity pass. But he had to find a way to top the 8-million-and-counting views of his girlfriend’s video on YouTube. How? Watch the clip below and see for yourself if he succeeded:

Oscar Go!

As a kid I always loved watching the Oscars. Back when I first started watching Oscar telecasts on Philippine TV, they were shown months afterwards—back then a live via satellite hook-up was too costly for any local TV station to mount. So I’d watch it not to be surprised by the winners but to enjoy the show. I took particular delight in watching the film clips of the different nominations, especially in the major categories. For a time I also looked forward to the live performances of the nominees for best song, until the production numbers got too tedious and overblown (the “For Your Eyes Only” set reached heights of silliness with tacky laser gun fire and onstage explosions). During Billy Crystal’s reign as host, I dared not miss the opening movie montage of him spoofing the nominated films of that year.

But what I particularly enjoyed were the speeches. My favorite types of speeches are: [1] heartfelt speeches, with the winner often genuinely moved to tears and consequently, me too; [2] sharp, funny and witty speeches; it’s especially exciting when the speech is done extemporaneously (or looks like it); [3] a combination of both.

You cannot imagine the number of times when, right after watching the Oscars, I’d imagine receiving one. Yes, that’s one of my secret guilty pleasures—imagining receiving an Oscar. The scene in my head often opens with me hearing the announcement while seated in the audience area; what would my reaction shot be when the camera zooms in on me? Usually it’s disbelief (“What?! Did they really call me?”) mixed with “Good lord, I didn’t prepare a speech!” and a huge dose of “OmigodIwonanOscarIwonanOscarIwonanOscar!”

What category will I be nominated in? I’ve already imagined receiving an award for acting (I always imagine being the supporting role category; lead role seemed too arrogant, even in daydreams), direction, best screenplay and best picture (with me as the producer accepting the award).

And what would my speech be like? I wanted it to be genuinely moving yet witty and memorable enough to be quoted and used as soundbite in a future Oscar montage. Oh, and I would insist on wearing a barong instead of a tuxedo. I’d also have a shout-out to Filipinos everywhere. Have I an actual prepared speech already? Of course not! I don’t know yet for which film and in which category I’ll be nominated in. Heller?

I have also fantasized being a presenter. I have also imagined being the host, although I often get bored with that fantasy easily because the job seems too thankless.

That’s why I still get a kick out of watching the very long and at times very boring Academy Awards. I watch it for those unexpected moments of genuine emotion and wit coming together to form a perfect television soundbite.

And I get to fantasize once again hearing my name called, kissing whoever is beside me (I hope it’s Colin Farrell), receiving that bald, golden man… and accidentally dropping him on my (left) foot just as I’m about to launch into my speech.

If My Life Were A McMusical

Let’s take a trip down my musical memory lane.

The earliest piece of melody that I can remember (or it feels like the earliest) is The Beatles’ “Obla-di, Obla-da”. My memory of it is not really the recorded song but its melody—maybe when I was a kid I heard a cover version of it (during the 60s it was commonplace to find several covers of one song). Even before any nursery rhyme or bedtime lullaby, it was a song by John, Paul, George and Ringo which stuck in my mind first. So I’m not surprised why I instantly took to The Beatles, and they still remain up to this day my all-time favorite act. Back then it took months, maybe even a year, for a song from overseas (namely, the U.S.) to make its way here in the Philippines; that was pre-satellite and Internet days, kids. We were still living in an apartment in Cubao, so that must have been 1967-68.

The next oldest song/s I remember is the soundtrack of the movie The Sound of Music. Back then my dad had an open-reel tape player and a copy of the soundtrack on tape. He playing it every Sunday morning; I’d wake up to the sound of the overture swelling then Julie Andrews’ golden voice riding on top of it with a triumphant, “The hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiills are a-liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive! With the sound of muuuuuuuuuuu-siiiiiiiiiiiic…!” I really liked “My Favorite Things” and “Do-Re-Mi”; I found “I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen” and “Edelweiss” gently melancholic. I know my mom loved the movie and my dad’s not a big fan of movies, so I guess he played the soundtrack every weekend for her. My dad was more into Latin dance music (the samba and rumba music of Prez Prado and the like) plus a lot of Matovanni, James Last and his favorite, Ray Coniff. Those three did nothing but cover songs by other artists in a “big band” style—full brass and rhythm sections with lots of snazzy drumming; they insisted on calling them an “orchestra”—and had their own group of singers. Growing up I enjoyed listening to them, until that fateful day when I realized that I was listening to “fakes”; by that time I was also moving into rock and roll via The Beatles.
(This is what an open-reel tape recorder and player looks like.)

Obviously after the Fab Four broke up, I followed their individual careers. Ringo didn’t do much. George was still into sitars and spiritual blah-blah with “My Sweet Lord” (which I first heard as a Ray Coniff version) so that turned me off. John was becoming more militant, which also was a turn off. So that meant Sir Paul with his silly and very accessible love songs. After The Beatles the next set of albums I collected (back then I could only afford cassette tapes) were by Paul McCartney and Wings (later on shortened to Wings).

Also around that time my uncle brought home a long-playing vinyl album that still remains to this day a classic favorite of mine. It was “Rhythm of the Rain” by The Cascades, and I swear for a time it seems like every Filipino household had a copy of that album, whether in LP or cassette form. No wonder a second incarnation of The Cascades still managed to draw in sizeable crowds in several (!) concerts here in Manila.

By the early 70s I had discovered the American Top 40 with Casey Kasem on radio (first on AM, then it moved to FM) and with it—disco! I liked every song KC and The Sunshine Band released, from “Shake Your Booty” to “I’m Your Boogie Man”.

I also was a huge fan of the songs of The Village People, though at that time I really thought that the song “Macho Man” was an ode to working out, “In The Navy” a tribute to the naval forces, and “Y.M.C.A.” a paean to a youth gym/hostel and male companionship (“You can hang out with all the boys!”). Boy, was I so naïve—and closeted—then.

Also in the 70s was an album that stayed at number one for the longest time (then) and generated several top 40 hits. “Rumours” was my introduction to Fleetwood Mac, which to this day remains one of my favorite bands.

But it’s no surprise that the next band whose albums I started collecting was another rock and roll band that copied heavily from The Beatles. Electric Light Orchestra, or E.L.O., was a traditional rock and roll band with an additional string and wind section of an orchestra thrown in (plus an occasional operatic aria or two by a back-up choir). But its chief founder and singer-songwriter Jeff Lynne cribbed a lot from the Fab Four (“Mr. Blue Sky” sounds like the interlude of “A Day In The Life” while the drums of “Don’t Bring Me Down” is lifted from the reprise of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”). It’s fitting that years later he would produce an album for George Harrison and, with the death of John Lennon, the last two official Beatles releases, “Free As A Bird” and “Real Love”.

By the time the 80s rolled in, I was also into a lot of dance music as well. And with the second British invasion in the 80s, I started collecting albums by Duran Duran, The Pet Shop Boys, Depeche Mode, The Police, Culture Club. Madonna was my very first female artist whose albums I started collecting. I began to notice Michael Jackson with his “Off The Wall” album, but I became an instant fan with “Thriller” his mega-monster hit. I already bought the re-mastered Special Edition released in 2001 so I’m not too keen on getting the recently released 25th anniversary edition (with matching bonus tracks and DVD).

With the emergence of the Internet and the further segmentation of music, it’s very difficult to find artists whose appeal can cut across different groups of people. So more and more I find people’s taste in music to be highly individualized and very specific. Still, “music makes the people come together,” according to Madonna.

So what was your music when you were growing up?

Have A Break

I was supposed to go to the bathhouse last night, but due to a change of plans I ended up watching Daybreak at Robinson’s Galleria. When I entered the foyer leading into the cinema, I saw around 7-8 guys standing around, looking furtively at one another and at me; one of the guys was busy fumbling at his unzipped fly. Eh di parang nag-bathhouse na rin pala ako.

Directed by Adolf Alix, Jr. and starring Coco Martin and Paolo Rivero, “Daybreak” is a simple, straightforward story of a break-up (hello, this is not a spoiler; see trailer and title), interspersed with numerous shots that we’ll conveniently label as “The Many Beautiful Scenes Of Tagaytay”. In fact, Tagaytay seems to be a central character of the movie, with more screen time than either of the two pretty-to-look-at leads. Omigosh my gulay, Coco Martin is sooo delicious in this movie! Beside him, Paolo—who’s also good looking and exudes a yuppie appeal in this movie—pales in comparison. Did I say pale? When the two are naked, Paolo looks pasty beside Coco’s golden brown, smooth skin. But wait, I was talking about Tagaytay.

The alternative summer capital of the Philippines when Baguio was still reeling from the 1990 earthquake, Tagaytay is populated by summer vacation homes, inns and hotels. This transient nature of the place echoes in the relationship William (Paolo) has with JP (Coco), since the former is a married doctor whose wife is on the family way. The backdrop of the still-active Taal Volcano also acts as a metaphor for the “explosive” revelation that William intends to spring on JP that night (and no, it’s more than just having a pregnant wife). It’s quite telling that as JP showers, William goes to the sink beside the shower and washes his hands. Oh my gulay, grabeng ang sarap ni Coco! Butt shot kung butt shot! Tapos ang sarap pa niya tumawa, parang little kid. Ang cuuuuuuute! Ay teka, back to the movie.

The setting of two men alone in an almost empty house is supposed to be claustrophobic, to further force them to confront the issues in their relationship. But the director kept cutting away to wide shots of mountains, the lake and the vast open skies. And he did it way too often. So instead of being pulled into the main story, I was always pulled away into appreciating the beauty of Tagaytay. Heck, I wanna see Coco’s beauty! Playing the proverbial provincial lad, Coco’s JP has that simple appeal that’s catnip to urban, closeted yuppies. In other words, he’s infuriatingly cute—and I really mean that in a good way. As in, you want to bottle him up and bring him home. In one scene, he refuses to eat the spaghetti carbonara because he doesn’t like the taste—JP is used to the banana catsup-type of spaghetti served only during special occasions. But there was no other food there except the spaghetti. I wanted to jump onto the screen and into the scene, plop myself up on the dining table, and tell JP, “Eat me!” And JP’s wearing sleeveless shirts the whole time! Argh! Back to the movie.

In fairness to the two straight actors (don’t they all claim to be?) they attack their kissing/love scenes with determined effort. There has been a recent explosion of indie films that are blatantly gay-themed, but I have yet to see a sex scene between two men that actually sizzles. As in, ka-level nina William Hurt and Kathleen Turner in 1981’s Body Heat. But I guess that’s asking too much for our straight actors.

Still, on opening day the theater was packed (“packed” being a very relative term; here I’m referring to the usual number of indie film viewers per showing). I guess it’s because of Coco, who may be on his way to inheriting from Alan Paule the crown of Go-To Actor For Sodomy Scenes (Giving And Receiving) In A Non-Porno Film. I forgive you if you go loco over Coco after watching this movie.

And thank god they used a tripod.

Quote Of The Week

Nay, of the century!

“This is the tyranny of marriage: the vows which bind us allow us to become our worst selves. Thrown dishes, slammed doors, faces contorted like an infant’s—all part of the contract. No one tells us this. No one tells us that the only unconditional love in this world is between parent and child…. But passion between a man and a woman is finite. If it lasts a thousand days, count yourself among the lucky….

There [is] no loneliness like marriage.”

—Dani Shapiro, Picturing The Wreck

* * * * *

The above was quoted by Gordon Livingston, M.D., in his excellent book, And Never Stop Dancing. The book is a collection of thirty truths “about life and how best to live it.” The quote appears in the chapter entitled, “Marriage ruins a lot of good relationships”. And the point of the chapter is simple: Dr. Livingstone refutes the idea that marriage or any intimate relationship is hard work and that there are endless compromises. He says that at the heart of a meaningful relationship is an astute choice of partner who’s “got ample reserves of kindness and a willingness to place us in the center of his or her life” plus cultivating in ourselves the same virtues. And the irony there is that if the choice is astute, then a relationship is an endless, effortless renewal of joy.

It’s so deceptively simple. Jumping into a relationship because of a need to be in one is a mistake most people commit (the younger the person, the more likely). We have to remind ourselves that this need to connect with others is something we all can achieve easily, but committing to an exclusive arrangement is something only fools rush in.

I especially so agree with the line, “No one tells us that the only unconditional love in this world is between parent and child”. Give your parents a hug tonight.

And since I started on a quote, let me end by quoting the Carpenters’ song “I Need To Be In Love”, a song so full of melancholy and irony. Enjoy.

The hardest thing I’ve ever done is keep believing
there’s someone in this crazy world for me.
The way that people come and go through temporary lives,
my chance could come and I might never know.

I used to say, “No promises, let’s keep it simple”,
but freedom only helps you say goodbye.
It took a while for me to learn that nothing comes for free.
The price I paid is high enough for me.

I know I need to be in love.
I know I’ve wasted too much time.
I know I ask perfection of a quite imperfect world,
and fool enough to think that’s what I’ll find.

So here I am with pockets full of good intentions,
but none of them will comfort me tonight.
I’m wide awake at 4 a.m. without a friend in sight—
I’m hanging on a hope, but I’m all right.

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