Tragicomic

Watched a French film, Moliere, with my friend at his office. In the DVD cover it was billed as “the French Shakespeare In Love” and it’s a very convenient marketing one-liner. French historians and biographers have long noted that the celebrated playwright Moliere “disappeared” for almost a year; no records can be found of what he did or where he was during that time. This movie imagines what happened in Moliere’s missing years. And much like the Oscar winner film starring Gwyneth Paltrow, this one also asks, “What events could have inspired this great playwright to come up great characters, plots and themes?” Or as the director noted in the behind-the-scenes, they were intrigued by the idea of having the playwright interact with characters from his plays.

The movie is quite entertaining and engaging even if one isn’t familiar with Moliere’s works (most notably “Tartuffe”). But for the artists, students and fans of the theater, watching the film is an even richer treat. I will not bore you with a review; instead, let me share my reaction to a couple of points raised.

The film portrays Moliere as instinctively adept at comedy but amusingly inept at tragedy; his theater group has earned a reputation for their farces that audiences have come to expect. Yet ironically he views comedy as a lower form of theater, a study of mechanical mannerisms unlike tragedy, which mines the depths of the human condition. In one scene Mme. Jourdain insists that Moliere’s comic abilities touched her more than his skills in drama that, alas, are tragic to watch; when he complains that there are no comedies that explore the human condition, she rebukes him, “Then invent one!”

Much later on she requests Moliere to make her laugh during a time of grave sadness. When he complains that her condition was no laughing matter, she utters my most favorite line in the movie: “Unhappiness has comic aspects one should never underestimate.”

I have often heard the following sentiment uttered regarding some of the greatest comedians: They who can make us the laugh the most often have had the saddest of lives. To an extent I agree with it, for often it is laughter that saves them from utter despair. It is said that comedy is an indication of a sharp mind; comedy helps the mind make sense of senselessness.

Which makes the laughing/crying mask of the theater a great symbol for comedians—behind every laughing façade is a face filled with tears.

Nampitcha!

He was chinky-eyed, wearing glasses that made him look nerdy and more appealing. While we were cuddling afterwards, I found out he loved kissing—long, deep, passionate. In between he kept tracing his finger over my eyebrows and the bridge of my nose—I couldn’t help but smile when he did that.

“I like your eyes sir,” he said.

What did he just call me? I pretended I didn’t understand what he said and went, “Huh?”

“I like your eyes sir,” he repeated. Yup, he actually called me ‘sir’. I should have recognized red flag number one.

He kept insisting, “You have very handsome eyes. They’re kinda chinky.”

“Wha—? Of course not,” I retorted with a laugh. He had taken off his glasses and placed it on top of the bedside locker before we went at it, so he had to be pulling my leg. But what for? Unfortunately red flag number two also went unnoticed.

A while later he said, “You look like you’re in a good line of work.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You look like you have a decent job,” he clarified. “You know? You don’t look like someone who is tambay sa kanto, hahaha.”

That was the third red flag that I didn’t recognize.

After chatting for a while I said, “Okay, time to wash up.” It was already past 12:30am, and I had work in a few hours. As he was arranging his towel around his waist, he suddenly looked up as if an important thought struck him. “What?” I asked. He was wrestling with himself; in the end, he said it anyway: “Hey, maybe you have some extra income and you want to invest or something,” his words tumbling over each other in a rush before he could lose his nerve.

Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech to a halt.

What.

The.

Fuck?!

“I’m sorry…?” I pretended once again.

And he asked me once more, this time with less stammering. I don’t remember much the full details because they sounded irrelevant to me, but I heard stuff like: “not some pyramid scheme,” “added income” and “only if you’re interested.”

Good lord, I was being given an honest-to-goodness sales pitch inside a bathhouse right after hot and heavy sex. A sales pitch, for cryin’ out loud! Are times really that hard? It took all of my will power to keep a smile plastered on my face, but I folded my hands in front of me. “Ahhh… nah,” I said and stood up to usher him out of my room.

He tried one last attempt. “Okay, so you’re not interested,” he conceded. “But maybe you have friends whom you can refer?”

I wanted to end this as quickly as possible. “Okay, I’ll ask them.”

“But it’s going to be awkward if I get in touch with them without your endorsement,” he said. Oh boy, he wasn’t going to fade out quietly.

“Look,” I said, more firmly, “I’m not interested, even to recommend.” And I took his arm and led him to the door. If he still insists, I’m going to take off the gloves.

“Oh, okay. Thank you sir,” he said on the way out. Sir, he said again. That should have tipped me off from the start.

* * * * *

On my way home I wondered, do I look like the Mother Teresa of the Bathhouses? Which gave me an idea: what if I actually come up with an Order of The Bathhouse Acolytes, or OBA? Our mission: to bring comfort to the sexually needy. And instead of Spiritual Exercises like the Jesuits, we’ll have the Sexual Exercises—an updated, M2M version of the Kama Sutra.

Who will want to join?

New Trailers

Harry Potter & The Half-Blood Prince


Watchmen


2012

She’s A-Live!

Kairita lola mo ha. Hataw kung hataw—with matching ramp on the side pa!

Fare Thee Well, MGG

Manila Gay Guy Dot Com is now formally closed. But Migs is still very much alive—he’s in the U.S. reinventing himself. Up to now I still don’t know his reasons for closing down one of the more popular Pinoy GLBT blogs, but whatever they may be, I support him in whatever future plans he’s cooking up.

Leave when you’re on top, Migs.

“Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.” – Lazurus Long

‘Tis The Season To Beyonce

I wonder how many groups of three gay guys or three girls or any permutation in between will attempt to perform “Single Ladies” for their company/barkada/organization Christmas party this year? Let the rehearsals begin!

Will they pull off this move?

How about this one?

Can they go as low as Beyonce?

Or will they be slapping themselves silly afterwards and asking themselves, “What were we thinking?!”

Meowrrr!

Okay, okay, it’s a chick flick. So sue me. But there is something primal about seeing two talented actresses go on an all-out comedic catfight. And I really love movies that make fun of weddings—there really is such a thin line between sincere and schmaltzy.