Wednesday, January 31, 2024
7:00 AM |
Poetry Wednesday, No. 172.
Labels: philippine literature, poetry
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Tuesday, January 30, 2024
4:42 PM |
Do Not Find Me
I am finally
done reading this. I struggled! Have you ever read a book that is so
excruciating to read, but still mean to finish regardless of your fraying sanity because the memory of the book it is a sequel to is sacred to you? I loved
Call Me By Your Name when I read it years ago, even way before the movie came out in 2017. I devoured it within a day, and my copy still occupies a singular place in my bookshelves. There really shouldn't have been a sequel.
But Andre Aciman, perhaps to satisfy a commercial demand brought on by the success of the movie, returns to tell more of Elio's and Oliver's tales. But this time, the language that was so ravishing in the first book — I remember it occasionally made me breathless, and I often stopped reading between paragraphs in sheer writerly jealousy — became so plodding and overwrought in this book.
And Aciman knows it.
I've highlighted this passage from
Find Me that shows him knowing full well that the tenor of his language was off. [It's the usual excuse by writers who cannot pen meaningfully realistic dialogues.]
And then to begin this book with a loooong section focusing on Elio's
father meeting, in a train, a woman he would eventually seduce and marry. That section ["Tempo"] took me months to finish, because I certainly was not interested to read about the sexual escapades and cringy flirtations of Elio's FATHER. It is the longest section, too, significantly eclipsing Elio's section ["Cadenza"], which inexplicably devolved into a strange and unnecessary mystery involving a long-dead composer. Oliver's section ["Capriccio"] was the shortest of all, just a few pages of him trying to get it on with a man and a woman at his farewell party, while day-dreaming about love lost in Elio. The coda ["Da Capo"], when Elio and Oliver finally get together, is so short and so anti-climactic, it is a let-down of extreme proportions -- because we simply have come not to care anymore about Elio and Oliver after all that.
If you love
Call Me By Your Name, avoid
Find Me at all cost.
Labels: books, queer
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Wednesday, January 24, 2024
7:00 AM |
Poetry Wednesday, No. 171.
Labels: poetry
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Wednesday, January 17, 2024
7:00 AM |
Poetry Wednesday, No. 170.
Labels: philippine literature, poetry
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Wednesday, January 10, 2024
7:00 AM |
Poetry Wednesday, No. 169.
Labels: poetry
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Wednesday, January 03, 2024
7:00 AM |
Poetry Wednesday, No. 168.
Labels: poetry
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Wednesday, December 27, 2023
7:00 AM |
Poetry Wednesday, No. 167.
Labels: new year, poetry
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Tuesday, December 26, 2023
12:09 AM |
The Time Traveling Serial Killer
There is a point somewhere in the fuzzy third act of Mallari where a character named Agnes confronts one of the Piolos [there are four] in this movie, where she tells him: “I knew you before as a doctor. Now you’re telling me you’re a fortuneteller.” I felt her confusion so hard. Because this movie is exactly like that: it does not know what it wants to be.
Because what is this? A movie about a historical serial killer? A movie about a crusading documentarian during the American colonial period? A movie about a lovelorn doctor? A movie about aswangs or manananggals? A movie about American military propaganda against the Huks? A movie about rural beliefs? A movie about social justice? A movie about the servant class eating the rich [or at least the sinful]? A movie about proto-TikTokers? [See Felicity’s final filmed confession.]
A movie about ... time travel?
When the time travel element was introduced, that was when I finally decided to just suspend all my longing for this movie to make sense, and just surrender to the horrendous absurdity of it all.
Fact was, I was so ready to do that already the first instant Mallari wanted to underline its horror elements [mostly through cheap jump scares] by announcing them with screeching music that bludgeons the viewer to pay attention and be scared. [Screeching music. A ghost!] But it doesn’t help that they mostly announce ghouls who just stand there — and do absolutely nothing of consequence. The movie does this ad infinitum that by the time we reach the 999th jump scare, you’re just ... numb with boredom.
Which is sad, because the story of Fr. Severino Mallari — the 18th century Filipino priest who is marked in our history as the country’s first recorded serial killer — is already so rich with narrative possibilities. Just following that story, even if the filmmakers have to embellish it to make up for the lack of concrete historical data, would have sufficed. But screenwriter Enrico Santos, perhaps fearful that he didn't have enough material to constitute a screenplay, opted to fictionalize by making this a story about a curse transcending generations, threading it all with the very hoary device of ... time travel. That’s what you call a choice.
A lot of the narrative elements of the film was certainly a CHOICE: killing off Mylene Dizon in the first few moments was a choice [hello, Drew Barrymore in Scream!], and then bringing in her cowering boy to the last few minutes to round off this story with an arrest was a choice; a priest spouting off “woke knowingness” and then the film proceeding to demonstrate the “kill the gays” trope was a choice; having exactly three paintings of distant ancestors hanging in an old house as shorthand for character introductions was a choice [the other ancestors don’t matter to this family?]; Elisse Joson’s acting as a bitchy Felicity was a choice; the predictability of JC Santos’ character arc from the moment he encounters Didi was a choice; the lack of serial killing was a choice; the humanizing of the serial killer was a choice; demonizing St. Bartholomew [and then making a post-script to deny this] was a choice; Piolo’s bad wig and fake beard were a choice; having characters do mouthful expository dumps as dialogue at crucial moments of high drama [to explain away gnarly narratives] was a choice — but that one with Gloria Diaz explaining the existence of a time-traveling descendant with a knife to her throat was icing on the cake; the fact that there’s only one kind of moon — a full moon always bathed in red — was a choice.
I was so excited to watch this film, and purposefully made it the first MMFF entry I would watch for 2023. I left the theater wondering what could have been if the screenplay was better. Sayang.Labels: philippine cinema
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Monday, December 25, 2023
4:43 PM |
Carol and the End of the World
So what's my Christmas Day watch? Carol and the End of the World. Nothing like an apocalyptic animated series to make me feel oh so Christmassy. Not many people know this about me but my favorite genre of movies is the apocalyptic film — because generally I just love to see the world burn or plunge to existential chaos with its imminent ending, cinematically. They’re generally of the dramatic sort, a nightmare of dystopic proportions. But Carol and the End of the World upends all of that, because it is actually quite utopic in its take of the world ending. Sure, a rogue planet called Keppler 9C is hurtling towards Earth in the course of seven months, and almost everyone is suddenly in hedonistic mode while awaiting the end of the world. And sure, it follows a sad, closed-up, seemingly purposeless woman who feels unanchored in that new world and just yearns to find a life where the old routines are respected and followed. [She finally finds it in The Distraction, a floor in an office building somewhere in an abandoned business district, which has gradually attracted people like Carol to do the old routines of going to work.] But what this Netflix series ultimately becomes is a chronicle of purpose, of community, even in the face of impeding doom — and getting there is such a journey of existentialist joy, if that makes sense. Above all, nothing of it is cloying or saccharine, which is reflective of the strengths of this series’ writers and creators. I'm glad this was my Christmas Day watch. I expected despair, I encountered hope instead.Labels: life, television
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Wednesday, December 20, 2023
7:00 AM |
Poetry Wednesday, No. 166.
Labels: christmas, poetry
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Monday, December 18, 2023
1:12 AM |
FellowTravelers
“I’ve spent most of my life waiting for God to love me. And then I realized the only thing that matters is I love God. It’s the same with you. I have loved you my whole life. I’ve never loved anyone but you. You were my great, consuming love. And most people don't get one of those. I did. I have no regrets.”
Labels: life, love, queer, television
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Wednesday, December 13, 2023
7:00 AM |
Poetry Wednesday, No. 165.
Labels: poetry
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Tuesday, December 12, 2023
4:45 PM |
Don't Follow Me, I Don't Even Know Where I'm Going
My short story “Don’t Follow Me, I Don't Even Know Where I’m Going” [Second Prize for the Short Story in English, Palanca Awards 2023] is finally out on
Philippines Graphic Reader! It’s available on Shopee at this
link.
Labels: fiction, life, philippine literature, writing
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Wednesday, December 06, 2023
7:00 AM |
Poetry Wednesday, No. 164.
Labels: poetry
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Friday, December 01, 2023
2:35 PM |
Human Bones, Literary Awards, and Afterparties
Kate Torralba brought her father’s bones to Palanca night. It was the first thing she told me as we settled into our seats on Table 24, where the winners for the Short Story in English were assigned, which was very conveniently located near the buffet tables inside the Francisco Dagohoy Reception Hall at the Philippine International Convention Center. And true enough, I saw what looked like shards of bones sealed in a plastic bag, and deposited deep in Kate’s purse; she showed them to all of us at the table, announced its presence with that deeply excited voice she would display all throughout the ceremonies. Later I told her, “You are probably the most excited Palanca winner tonight.” Of course, she told me: she considered the night to be the equivalent of her wedding, and she even had two photographers in tow to record everything. “Oh wow, you may be the first one to bring along a photo crew for Palanca night!” I said to her. Exie Abola, first prize winner in our category, corrected me: “Last year, Atom Araullo brought along an entire camera crew.” Kate laughed at that. But she was indeed excited to win her first Palanca, for a short story she penned in four hours while cooking Binisaya pochero for her late father for a deadline in Jing Hidalgo’s fiction workshop. “This story has taken me places,” she said. “It brought me to the UP Workshop, and now it has won me a Palanca!” I was not immune to Kate’s excitement, and her overwhelming charm. But that excited spirit was also evident all throughout the 71st Palanca Awards: this was the most fun I’ve had since I’ve been privileged to attend the ceremony in the past two decades. You could see it on the faces of the winners, many of whom were first-timers, like Vince Agcaoili, John Dante, John Patrick Solano, Ross Manicad, and fellow Sillimanian Keisiah Dawn Tiaoson. You could feel it in the stride of writing veterans, who took the night as a chance to have a reunion with writer fiends they have not seen in ages, because of the pandemic. It was good to see good friends and mentors alike, like Edgar Calabaia Samar, Susan S. Lara, Krip Yuson, the National Artist for Literature Gemino Abad, Neni Sta. Romana Cruz, Rody Vera, Russell Molina, Joel Pablo Salud, Nicholas Pichay, Jose Y. Dalisay, Marne Kilates, Trish Shishikura, Mikael Co, Charles Lee, David Corpuz, Jeffrey Jeturian, Joshua Lim So, Russell Stanley Geronimo, CD Borden, and Luis Gatmaitan, who gave a fantastic keynote speech. But the epitome of that excited spirit was Peter Solis Nery, who came clad in a dress made entirely of feathers. The Hall of Famer won first prize once more, this time for the Short Story in Filipino — something he worked on for almost a decade, and considered the prize just rewards for that labor of many years. He looked gorgeous in his gown — and on the way to the afterparty later that night, he would proclaim: “Dugyot talaga ako for the rest of the 364 days in a given year. Pero sa Palanca, just for one night, dapat bongga!”Yes, there was an afterparty, hosted by Kate. Perhaps the first Palanca afterparty I’ve ever attended, this time in the intimate confines of an upstairs room in Rafael’s Tapas Bar in Resorts World — where I got to meet friends I have not seen since the pandemic, like Yvette Tan, Moira Lang, and Myrza Sison, and I got to meet for the first time Sherad Anthony Sanchez, BJ Crisostomo, and Ed Cruz! In all the excitement, I don’t even remember eating. I came home to my hotel tired and happy, and hungry, at 2 AM. Early the next day, Renz and I flew home to Dumaguete.
Labels: awards, palanca, philippine literature, writers
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Wednesday, November 29, 2023
7:00 AM |
Poetry Wednesday, No. 163.
Labels: poetry
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Tuesday, November 28, 2023
Got back to the hotel very late last night after the Palancas, and didn't bother getting any sleep because I had an early flight. Which meant that as soon as I got back home to Dumaguete, I went straight to bed to grab sleep till late afternoon, waking only to do my 4 PM class. Then I grabbed a foot massage because my feet were aching from the Manila trip, then I attended a birthday dinner for Renz's Aunt Mitzie. And now it's 9 PM. There's a whole mountain of to-do's to tackle! I'm on it.
Labels: life, travel
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Thursday, November 23, 2023
11:47 PM |
Doing 'Dyamante'
It's Thanksgiving, an American holiday, but I'll take this chance to be thankful for today. Today, we finally pulled off doing the Opening Salvo for the 75th Charter Anniversary and Diamond Jubilee Year of Dumaguete City. A few months ago, someone who was part of the diamond jubilee team gave us several options to do an opening salvo: a cultural program of songs and dances, or a political program of speeches, or a dramatic program of historical reenactment, or a military program with a pass and view and a Philippine Airforce flyby. As the designated scriptwriter for the program we were soon going to call
Dyamante, I replied: "Why choose? Why not all? This is after all, the 75th anniversary. This will never happen again."
So began our adventure, with the date set on November 19, a Sunday. It was going to be a grand program never before attempted in Dumaguete, using for a stage all the iconic sites around the heritage area of Dumaguete: the Presidencia, the Campanario, the M.L. Quezon Park, Calle Burgos, and the Pantawan at the Rizal Boulevard. Yes, we were going to utilize all areas for the program! The logistics was immense, but why quiver from the challenge? In my vision while writing the script, I saw Wowie Remata Villanueva starting the program by singing Katong Villariza's iconic "Dumaguete [Do You Hear Me Calling?]" at the Campanario, singing to the adapted score composed by Levi Alaban, while dancers trained by Angelo Sayson would start dancing at the Presidencia Grounds, for all the elements to meet at the kiosk of M.L. Quezon Park, the traditional stage of the Dumaguete community, where the audience will be seated. There, a full reenactment of Dumaguete's story — the legends of how it got its name and the history of how it gained its charter in 1948 — will be done. At the end, the performers will usher all the guests to a grand parade led by the Silliman Band dressed in American colonial regalia. The parade will go around the park in the style of a Flores de Mayo, with the VIPs aboard all six present-day Dumaguete tartanillas, then through Calle Burgos, then ending at the Rizal Boulevard, where a red carpet would meet them and become their pathway towards the stage area at the Pantawan. At the Pantawan, we would have a pass and review and a flyby with the Philippine Air Force, where the formal opening ceremony would take place. That was the plan! And we were ready to pull it all off.
Until news of a coming superstorm forced us to reconsider everything: What do we do? Do we go ahead on the 19th, and just donate eggs to the Carmelite sisters, and hope for the best? [PAG-ASA said no.] Do we see December as an option? [Definitely no.] Do we postpone until the 24th, and incorporate the show during the Civic Military Parade? [Doable but it will make a long program even longer!] Compromises had to be embraced. Before last weekend came on in the wake of a storm that did not really touch us, all the stakeholders came to a decision: do everything on the 23rd instead, and retool the show so that it will all be staged at the Pantawan. There was some disappointment in my part, of course, since I believed in the initial grand, and once-in-a-lifetime, vision: but I also know compromises must be honored. It's just the way life goes. And I do believe an artistic vision can often become even better when saddled with challenges.
And so we finally staged
Diyamante today, with changes made all throughout [e.g., a music video stand in for Wowie, because she had travel plans and could not be present; a new sound system, because initial plans of sharing a sound system plan with the also-postponed Ben & Ben concert was no longer feasible; a last minute cancellation of the flyby because the air force was needed in storm-affected areas, etc.]. But I am still very happy with the result, because I felt every ounce of talent and sincerity from everyone involved. And I love that we all pushed on despite all the compromises and the whiplash of many changes — but with a vision of using all of these challenges now as a chance to learn, because we are now aiming for a fuller realization of the original vision for the culmination program next year.
And because it's Thanksgiving, I would like to express my gratefulness to everyone involved: to our director
Fionabelle Marie Cabe for giving my script a shape; to our choreographer
Angelo Sayson for the robust dances that filled out the story; to
Levi Alaban for a musical score that organically gave life to the narrative; to
Tyrone Tejam, who did not hesitate when asked to be our narrator, even if he was so geographically removed in the United States [his recording was impeccable, and when I was writing the script, it was really his voice I heard]; to
Louise Remata Villanueva, for being our songbird, game to do everything for the sake of perfecting good music; to
Mathilda Limbaga Erojo and
Orkestra Sin Arco for providing the music for the rigodon; to
Joseph Albert Basa and the
Silliman Marching Band for providing the cadence to the pass and review; to
Elizabeth Susan Vista-Suarez for being our voice of reason, and for that rousing finale with the
Campus Choristers; to
Juni Jay Tinambacan, who took on the daunting task of managing our sound requirements; to
Mayumi Maghuyop for taking the vast challenge of costuming everyone with no time at her disposal; to
Jansen Tan for dressing our stage; to
Aj Maloy who took the challenge of making a music video in three days; to
Janna Sylvester Lavestre for assisting everyone, and for generally being our muse; to everyone at the
Dumaguete City Tourism Office for the support; to
Jack Repollo for being our captain of production; and finally to
Katherine Aguilar whose heart is huge, and who tirelessly facilitated all our ideas and requests with no sign of fatigue, and always with a positive push. And to
Mayor Ipe Remollo who granted us a stage for all our crazy ideas in the name of love for our beautiful city.
Labels: art and culture, dumaguete, fiesta, life
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Wednesday, November 22, 2023
7:00 AM |
Poetry Wednesday, No. 162.
Labels: poetry
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Thursday, November 16, 2023
11:48 PM |
Compromises Will Make Me Stronger
I don't know what's happening to me but I'm actually eager to tackle logistics challenges now, of course with the help of very supportive people. Because of my undiagnosed ADHD before, I used to feel frustrated over compromises to my "artistic vision," but now that I know who I am mentally, I'm like: the challenges will make me a better artist. Of course I prefer the ideal: the artistic vision fully fleshed out, unhampered, undiluted. But that's not how the world works. Acknowledging this has made doing things less stressful, to be honest.
Labels: life
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