Seeing red

Red has the most visceral impact amongst all colors.  You stop when you see its sign on the road. It sends chills down your spine when you see blood.  It indicates danger: the red button is what you push to start a nuclear war, and it’s the Commies’ favorite color.  For the alarm it brings, red somehow isn’t a popular choice for home interiors.

Yet, red had been on my mind when I was designing my place.  For me, it represents energy and vibrance.  But somehow it had never figured in the whole set-up until yesterday.  Bought these two Chinese pieces at Justin’s Treasures in White Plains, Q.C. They’ve livened up my place which had had too much gray and black.

Now, let’s bring it back to the movies.  Zhang Yimou’s greatest film, Raise The Red Lantern (1991) is an obvious inspiration.

But the single most memorable use of red in the movies must be Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining (1980).  Also, one of the best trailers ever.  Local movies should learn from Kubrick -- how to make trailers intriguing and spoilier-free.

American muscle

I just spent Sunday at a motor show in Pampanga.  It was also an excuse to have a hearty lunch in the best resto in Central Luzon (Everybody’s Café), and pitchers of margarita at Zapata’s, Angeles City’s famous Mexican place.  But it was David’s ’68 Mustang that was the highlight of the day.  We were there when we first saw it, looking like it was pushed down the slopes of Pinatubo during the great eruption.  

It now looks like this after more than 18 months of restorative motor works.

It’s good enough to be featured in an American movie.  The muscle car has been a consistent presence in mainstream American cinema.  It’s been as big a star as its human co-stars.  

Transformers wouldn’t be as interesting without Bumblebee.  

Steve Mcqueen had to have his potent accessory in Bullitt, also a Mustang. 

Thelma and Louise’s final act wouldn’t have been as dramatic with a Toyota.  

Christine, Stephen King’s killing machine, was scarier as vintage.

One of my fave muscles cars as a kid was Cleopatra Jones’ Corvette.  You’re a child of the 70s if you knew the 6-foot-2 machine gun-toting, karate-chopping Tamara Dobson who played Cleopata.  She was the inspiration for Beyonce’s character in Austin Powers.  No other action heroine in the 70s was a cool as Cleopatra.  She wore the sexist outfits (furs, short shorts, pantsuits, ponchos) and drove a sleek Corvette that had a personalized “CLEO’ plate. 

The muscle car:  one of America’s greatest contributions to pop culture.  No other accessory represented masculinity, power, youth, freedom and excess.  The Philippine equivalent was the lowly Minica which was in many a comedy film.  It even upstaged Vilma Santos in Vilma and the Beep Beep Minica (it could climb walls!). 

The most consistently exciting Pinoy director in the last 13 years.

Yet again, it’s been one stressful day at the office.  I don’t usually complain about work because I always have the construction workers across the street, who’ve just demolished a whole huge building and are now cleaning up the rubble to put up a new and bigger structure, to remind me that what I do “ain’t really working”, to borrow from Dire Straits.  But I’m tired nonetheless even if I don’t get blisters on my thumb.

Then I just have to remind myself that my work in the agency has blessed me with great, great friendships.   It ain’t so bad after all.  Would I have had as many interesting friends if I finished law school?  Naah.

I’d like to boast that one of those friends is Jeffrey Jeturian the director.  I knew him since 1994 when we first worked with a then introverted Angel Aquino for a shampoo commercial.  He was her manager.  Jeffrey was the easiest talent manager to deal with.  He agreed to everything I offered.   I kinda sensed he was distracted, that talent management was a springboard to bigger showbiz goals.   It didn’t take long for him to direct his first movie in 1998 – Sana Pagibig Na, starring Angel.  He’s only done about 7 movies after that very auspicious debut, but his filmography is the most consistent since Mike de Leon’s.

Tuhog is a favorite.  Before the Cinemalaya winner Jay (which I love) there was Jeffrey’s take on media ethics, how reel exploits the real.  Two filmmakers buy the rights to the story of a mother and daughter who've been victims of incest.  The film version turns out to be hilarious and defamatory against them.   It only gets more sordid and doubly painful for the victims.  

It takes an intelligent director to understand the intricacies of juxtaposition, without being corny and preachy.  And Jeffrey is always like that in his movies – smart, subtle, and entertaining.   Hey, he’s my friend! ☺  But I didn't get to see his award-winning film in the last Cinemalaya.  Bad, bad friend.

Moonbeams

The movie's just okay.  The two lead actors prove they're not miscast (the popular stage version had regular-looking actors, like Kathy Bates).  The writing is inspired, at times hilarious.  But the ending is the best part for me.   The most beautiful piano suite, Clair de Lune, plays.   A perfect score to show moonbeams, New York, love, loneliness and toothbrushing.

Traveling through cinema

Many years ago, in preparation for my first trip to Western Europe, I read a lot of travel books and searched the Web like any eager tourist.  But nothing excited me more than travelling and learning through cinema.

I didn’t turn to jetsetting James Bond because explosions in piazzas and gunfights in museums were least inspiring and appetizing.  The movies I researched on were mostly guilty pleasures.  A lot of romance and chocolate box-photography.  There had to be magical moments that were worth recreating, like eating gelato on the Spanish Steps a la Audrey in Roman Holiday. 

Cruising through the Seine like Goldie and Woody in Everybody Says I Love You.  

Riding the gondola through Venetian canals like those lovestruck kids in A Little Romance.

Booking a room that has a view of the Duomo in Firenze like Bonham-Carter’s in A Room With A View.

Reading a book in a London park like Hugh and Julia in Notting Hill (actually there was nothing there).

I dream of going to that part of the world again, soon!  Must save up and take a break from the worrying world of advertising.  While I love my new place, it’s only a few blocks from my place of work, and that’s claustrophobia 24/7.

The most I could do now is to take that trip without getting off the couch.  From my bedroom in Makati, the best way to see the Paris that I love most is through Before Sunrise (1995), Before Sunset (2004), and Paris, Je T'Aime (2006).

I want to see Prague, too.  But I can only think of a James Bond movie - Casino Royale - that had Prague as a backdrop.  Oh, well.  Bond also does romance; so that will do.

Louboutin and Marc Jacobs for Miss Piggy

It's one of the biggest movie events of the year -- the return of the Muppets in November.  Stars like George Clooney, Amy Adams, Chris Cooper, Lady Gaga, Neil Patrick Harris, Ricky Gervais, Whoopi Goldberg, Katy Perry, Ben Stiller are part of it.  In the movie, Kermit, Miss Piggy, Fozzie, Scooter, the Swedish Chef, Statler & Waldorf from the peanut gallery, and the rest of the gang have gone their separate ways.  Walter the biggest Muppet fan is out to reunite them so they could save their old theatre from demolition.

I hope it'll be fun. It's been awhile since I've seen the Muppets.  My generation grew up with the The Muppet Show in the 70s.  It was on Saturday nights on Channel 7, and I remember my dad scolding me for watching a silly show.  At that time, till today, the show's strange.  The canned laughter was awful. Something was exploding every 5 minutes.  Bad puns were all over.  But they kept at it, as if pushing the limits of silliness.  That's why I loved it.

I read that Miss Piggy commissioned the legendary shoemaker Louboutin for stilettos and pumps, and Marc Jacobs for her outfits.  There'll be a fashionisita showdown with Lady Gaga.  That surely will be worth the ticket.

Here's a clip from Season 4:

The Worst Dog in the World and Other Cute Little Things

Those are Bruno and Pippa, two-month-old offspring of my teacup Pomeranian Chloe and Pascal, half-Chihuahua and half-poodle.  Sweetest little things.  They were kissers like Chloe, and got the smarts of a poodle.   I had to find the pups new homes last week since five dogs in a condo would mean hell (besides my grumpy Shih Tzu Bilbo wasn’t happy to have them around).

On the day I gave my two two-month-old puppies away, Hachiko: A Dog’s Story (2009) was playing on HBO.  Couldn’t the timing be more manipulative? 

Like all the canine movies I saw as a kid (Benji, Lassie, Beethoven, Digby, 101 Dalmatians), Hachiko has a very thin and predictable plot.  Dog gets lost, dog finds a master, dog is up for adoption, master gets attached to the dog, dog stays with master till the very end, dog waits for dead master to come home for nine years, dog dies and gets iconic status.  But do I mind?  I don’t.  I watch it every time it’s on. 

Dog movies, other than Spielberg’s, are the most emotionally manipulative movies.  Some do work at a more respectable level, like Marley & Me (family milestones with the world’s worst dog as a conspicuous footnote).   We lap them up, find them excusable, and embrace the cuteness and sentimentality, just once in a while.  Life’s too stressful for too much arthouse.  Or crime, conflict, even Cujo.

From John Malkovich's Portal to the Septic Tank

If you'd let people in an ad agency re-do their work every time you'd experience déjà vu, nothing would ever get done.  It seems like everything’s been done before.  The best they could do is take Jim Jarmusch’s advice:

“Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul.  If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic.  Authenticity is invaluable; originality is nonexistent.  And don’t bother concealing your thievery.  Celebrate it if you feel like it.”

But is it really the same with the movies where Jarmusch comes from?  In Europe, I don’t think originality is a problem.  There’s nothing like an Almodovar film.  The Cannes winner The White Ribbon was also unfamiliar territory.  In Hollywood, it gets harder.  I can only think of two wildly original U.S. releases, and they came out in the 90s: There’s Something About Mary (1998) and Being John Malkovich (1999).  Mary was gross, raunchy, infantile, politically incorrect, romantic, musical, physical and very, very funny.  Have you ever seen a movie before where a whole sequence was devoted to wad on the hair?

Being John Malkovich – tell me if you’ve even remotely heard of this idea.  A jobless puppeteer (John Cusack) is married to an ugly pet-store employee (Cameron Diaz) who wants to go transgender.  Cusack eventually gets a job as a clerk and develops a crush on a hot co-worker (Catherine Keener).  Their office is on the 7 ½ floor that has a very low ceiling. On the same floor, Cusack discovers a portal that leads to the mind of John Malkovich the actor.  For 15 minutes he can see and sense whatever Malkovich does before he suddenly gets thrown into a ditch.  He and Keener then sell the 15-minute Malkovich trip for $200.  Things get crazier when Cameron goes into Malkovich’s head and woos Cusack’s crush.  The portal goes to an unborn child.  Old people use it to prolong their life.  Even Charlie Sheen as Charlie Sheen joins in.

Interestingly, Malkovich was done by a first-time director, Spike Jonze.  He’s done two other movies since – Adaptation and Where the Wild Things Are.  The first remains his best.  What is it about first-time directors creating memorable debuts?  Is it the passion and the excitement spent on a long-time pet project?  Maybe it’s the desire to stand out by being original.

In the Philippines, we’ve found our Spike Jonze.  It’s Marlon Rivera.  His first film, Babae sa Septic Tank, is on its second weekend.  Catch it.  Just when other Pinoy directors are desperately trying to be authentic with their thievery of the theme of poverty, Rivera mocks it.

We hope to see more original stuff from Rivera soon.

Movie Moment: Purple Rose of Cairo

Is it “Crazy, Stupid, Love”, “Crazy Stupid Love” or “Crazy, Stupid Love”?

If there’s one organization that I want to establish in the Philippines, it’s the “Apostrophe Protection Society”, or the “Preservation of the Semi-colon”, or the “Hey, Use a Comma When Not Tweeting”.  It’s punctuation that I find worth fighting for -- not animal rights, environment protection, or use-the-fast-lane-only-for-overtaking.  Multitudes have joined those causes.  Nobody seems to fight for the lowly comma.

Like Lynne Truss, the author of the world’s most significant book in the last century, “Eats, Shoots & Leaves” (I die a little when I hear a friend saying “huh?”), I was appalled by Warner Bros.’ omission of the apostrophe in Two Weeks Notice.  Now, here comes Crazy, Stupid, Love.  News reports have all those commas.  While it’s commendable that film’s producers have not forgotten to comma, it’s disturbing that there’s one comma too many. 

The poster doesn’t help either.  Where is it?

Do I hear get a life drop it face it dude da web has subverted the rules of grammar theres more to life than punctuation your so old school

Medeo Cruz is today's Scorsese.

The last time I checked it was 2011, and we were living in a democracy where the freedom of expression was a sacred right. It still isn’t the dark ages and fundamentalist clerics do not rule the land. Yet, it seems like it in the wake of the CCP “Kulo” controversy.

According to reports, artist Medio Cruz’s work “shows a wooden replica of the male genital protruding toward Jesus Christ’s face. The male genital replica is draped with the rosary hanging by the base and top of the replica. To a crucifix is attached a red male organ. A similar image of Christ where his eyes are darkened by black ink which appears to flow out from his eyes; a crucifix and cross draped with a pink stretched out condom; various religious images and pictures of Christ, Mary the Mother of Christ, Holy family, saints, and the rosary are all closely surrounded by and placed beside pictures of women who appear to be modeling for underwear or a skin product; a picture of Christ’s disciples surrounding a dark silhouette. Right in the facial expression is a drawing resembling Mickey Mouse; a seated statue of Christ where the tip of his nose is a red ball, above his head is an imposed pair of red ears ala Mickey Mouse”.

Yesterday, the government closed down the exhibit after bishops cried 'blasphemy!'  And suddenly, everyone's an art critic.  I'm pretty sure those who found it objectionable didn't even see the exhibit.  So, wala silang karapatang manghusga.  I have not seen it myself but judging from the pics I've seen, I thought it was a cool installation.  It was buong-buo, hitik na hitik or full of rich kitsch.  It's meant to mock the Pinoy's penchant for idolatry.  It made its point well.  Triumphant art it was.

The Kulo uproar is reminiscent of what happened in the late 1980s.  Cinema's living legend Martin Scorsese adapted the Greek writer Nikos Kazantzakis The Last Temptation of Christ.  It was an exercise in theology, not an episodic staging of one of the gospels.  Christ was believed to be both god and man.  Kazantzakis offered this treatise: what if his godly nature failed him on the cross?  What if he refused his destiny and chose to embrace the simple pains and joys of a regular life?   

Manoling Morato, then Censors chief, banned the film, and he even admitted that he did so without even seeing it.  Knowing that Jesus had sex with Magdalene was enough cause for censorship, he said.  Well, he should have.  I thought it was inspiring, and made me understand Christ's divinity more.  Christ was all flesh and blood when he roamed Israel.  Christ as man struggled, questioned, was in constant anguish over his pre-ordained role as savior.  Yet he conquered all that to fulfill that role.  How could that be offensive?

As I've said again and  again, any form of censorship is unacceptable in a free society like ours.  It's downright baduy. I'm aware of its limits (libel, slander, risk to public safety, real and not imagine pornography, and all).  Tumigil kayo, mga obispo kayo.  Isn't it ironic that the herd of fundamentalists that stalk the billboard-ridden highways of the Metro and the halls of the Cultural Center are turning out to be very un-Christian in their ways?  Idiocy, art illiteracy, prevarication and moral arrogance are exactly what Medeo Cruz's art was all about.

Marvel fatigue

This decade is turning out to be the decade of the comic book hero.  Marvel dominates the theatres, like almost every month.  It could get tiresome.  Should I see Captain America?  Isn’t it as silly as the TV jingle?  I do like watching a hero struggle against incredible odds and battle a really mean villain.  But too much CGI reminds me of work.

The late Brandon Lee

I prefer my action sequences raw, almost CGI-free.  Think French Connection, still the best car chase in film history (Ronin takes second honors).   My hero conflicted, not one-dimensional, an anti-hero in fact – there’s Mel Gibson in Mad Max and Road Warrior, Brandon Lee in The Crow, and the great Jean Reno in Leon: The Professional.  Yeah, I’m a sucker for heroes with a dark side.  They’re dangerous, unscrupulous, arrogant, self-centered.  You’ll never know what’ll happen to them.  Will they die fighting for their cause, you'd wonder.

Noble is boring.  And predictable.  They’re not gonna die.  Because the Avengers team-up has to happen.

How not to pick up a date.

At the art gallery Felix (Allen), a sex-starved film critic, is visiting an art gallery to try to pick up girls. Here's the conversation he has with one likely lady.

Felix: That's quite a lovely Jackson Pollock, isn't it?

Girl: Yes it is.

Felix: What does it say to you?

Girl: It restates the negativeness of the universe, the hideous, lonely emptiness of existence. Nothingness. The predicament of man forced to live in a barren, godless eternity like a tiny flame flickering in an immense void with nothing but waste, horror and degradation forming a useless, bleak straitjacket in a black, absurd cosmos.

Felix: What are you doing Saturday night?

Girl: Committing suicide.

Felix: What about Friday night?

The sexier Lord of the Rings

Game of Thrones had been a hot topic in my agency for some time.  I thought it was a video game.  I had not read the George Martin books.   So I just had to see what all the fuss was about.  It turned out to be the best epic feature since Lord of the Rings.  It’s as big and bold, and sexier.  Not because of all the nudity that HBO has come to be known for.  The key theme of the lust for power has been a major turn-on.  It never ends.  It consumes a multitude of characters.  And you can never be sure if the motives are right or justifiable.  The moral lines are blurred.   You’ll never know for sure if you ought to be rooting for a certain character.   It really is complicated.

The first few episodes are just as difficult to follow.  Spare yourself the extra effort to know what’s going on.   You’ll soon fall into a rhythm of understanding, as one critic puts it. 

It’s impossible to give a synopsis that’s spoiler-free.   Just imagine four fractious families (the Baratheons, Lassiters, Starks and Targaryens) all plotting, intriguing, backstabbing, whacking, with the Iron Throne as the coveted prize.  Then, there are mythical threats – medieval zombies and dragons – looming, while all sword-slaying is happening. 

I’ve seen all 10 episodes of season 1.  I heard it’d take 8 months before the next season premieres.  Paano na ‘ko?   Everything else on television could not come close to the abundant pleasures that the Game of Thrones has given.   But then again, it could do me good.   I can relax now and not continually be on the edge of my seat after every episode.   I can take a break now from hating and strangling the delightfully evil Joffrey and her mom.   I had felt like joining Khal Drogo and Daenerys Targaryen so we could get the heads of the hateful Lassiters.  Tsk, tsk, I’ve gotten just as primal. 

The Iron Throne alone is worth the cable subscription.  A supreme achievement in art direction.