Christ and the Anti-Christ

If I'd seen either of these movies as a child, I wouldn’t have lived long enough to blog.   In 1973, in my very Catholic town of San Fernando, word got around that you’d die in 5 years if you went to see the heretical Jesus Christ Superstar or The Exorcist, the work of William Friedkin and the devil.   I wondered then, if I'd see both, would my end come in 2.5 years? 

The few joys of adulthood include rebelling against what you were taught as a child, and doing them over and over again.  I only mustered enough courage to see both films in my 20s, away from all the priests and Kapampangans of my youth, and would then revisit them one after the other.   Christ and the Anti-Christ in one sitting. 

Both films remain groovy, long after people have stopped saying groovy.   I like how the contrasting styles of these films redefine the paradigms associated with their respective genres:  the Jesus material is not slow and somber, treated with sickly sweet deference and piety.   It’s meant to provoke the viewer, and make him understand what made Him the original superstar, and the price he had to pay for being one.

One of the most iconic images in film history

The Exorcist is more than just a terrific acting ensemble (with the great Ellen Burstyn, Max Von Sydow and Linda Blair).  It’s beautiful terror.   Like Kubrick’s The Shining, it takes awhile before the scarefest happens.  It starts out slow and eerie.   The atmosphere unsettles you before Regan the possessed girl frightens you with vomit, levitation, head-turning and that gravelly old woman’s voice.   It just stays with you. 

Would rather call it a night by singing along with the awesome Ted Neely.

Haay, Majayjay! (Part 2)

(The Majayjay river runs through it.)

Long before Meryl Streep showed off her rowing skills in River Wild, and just about the time when Angelina Jolie’s dad, a then 20something Jon Voight took his friends to a tragic canoe trip down the rivers of Georgia in Deliverance, Filipino filmmakers were shooting a lot of films in rivers.  Clean, rubbish-free rivers.  There were simple, Amorsolo-esque women bathing and doing their laundry in rivers, happily singing, and shyly wooing the men.   If it weren’t a musical, the women would still be bathing and washing, and the tulisan baddies would suddenly enter frame, chase after the women to rape them until FPJ or Erap comes to the rescue. 

The river in Oro Plata Mata where Mitch Valdes bathed topless was a memorable backdrop.  So was the river where Nora flirted with Bembol, and where Bembol flirted with Vilma.  Two different movies, same river: the river in Majayjay.

Those who lament the death of natural tributaries should visit Majayjay.  Its river is as clean as it was when Nora held the batya’t palu-palo 35 years ago.  The Laguna folk have long been ecologically conscious.  They’ve disallowed pig and chicken farms near the river.  Residents do not treat it as their one big toilet.  Tourists who swim in the river are told to preserve its beauty as well.  


It’s the Majayjay river that’s attracted a friend to build his weekend retreat.  He bought a 1700 square meter property a few years back for a pittance, designed it himself even if he had no architectural background.  He's turned it into the most magical and cinematic home I’ve ever seen in the country.   And the best part is, he’s yet to see a tulisan trespasser.

The façade

The first structure: receiving area/living room.  Check out the roof.  The owner didn't want the usual stiff angle.  He wanted it curved, graceful; so he had the metal that held the roof bent.

Different textures working together.

Hardly any chairs in the sala.  The owner figured guests come to laze around.

The second structure: dining

Exquisite detail: cogon grass as sturdy roofing material and the original artpiece/lightsource on the wall. 

The third structure on the right is the guest room.  

Next time, I want to sleep here.  The mirrors reflect the river and all the flora.

The door that opens to the other side.

You could now see it flowing and hear it rambling.

A peek into the pièce de résistance

Yup, the river is right in his backyard.

The other side of the stream that flows into a bigger one.

You'd have to step on the rocks and get your feet wet to get to the main structure.

The main house on the right

Picnic/Breakfast area

The fourth structure: bedroom

Behind the bedroom 

It's super clean and very cold.

Haay, Majayjay! (Part 1)

(Or, retracing Ate Guy's steps where she had a Vidal Sassoon makeover in 1976)

Filled with Catholic guilt (the uppercase ‘C’ is proof of such guilt) every time Easter Week comes, I choose to stay home and not indulge in worldly pleasures like a four-day weekend at the beach or overseas.   As kids, we were taught not be cheery until Christ has risen.  The most I’d do since would be day-long trips somewhere close to Manila, places that I’ve never visited.  Last year it was Pila, Laguna, arguably the most picturesque little town in the Philippines.  The other day it was Majayjay, Laguna.


I thought it would be a long drive so I almost flaked when friends suggested Majayjay.  The only reason that really made me go was the fact that the town was the location of some of the most memorable movies I saw as a kid:  Ganito Kami Noon Paano Kayo Ngayon (1976); Pagputi ng Uwak, Pagitim ng Tagak (1978); Gumising Ka, Maruja (1978); and Tatlong Taong Diyos (1976).   In the last film mentioned, the town was as important as its star, Nora Aunor.   

Tatlong Taong Diyos tells the story of Rosario (Aunor), a sensible and feisty schoolteacher who gets raped by a Japanese officer (Christopher de Leon), whose troops overrun a quiet town in Luzon for three years.   Rosario then gets pregnant and falls for the Japanese.   The townspeople are shocked and ostracize the collaborator.   In the end, the women exact revenge on Rosario but cutting off her hair (Sounds familiar?  That was how the 2000 Italian film, Malena, ended as well.   But Nora did it 25 years ahead of Monica Bellucci. )

The film was significant because it started Nora’s career as a serious actress and producer.  But if you’d see it now, the results are quite laughable.   Christopher couldn’t be Japanese.   The staging of key scenes was theatrical.  The haircutting scene had women, all dressed in black like a Greek chorus, unnaturally encircling Rosario.  When she emerged from the ring, Nora actually looked better, when she was supposed to look shamed and ugly.  What a fab makeover!

Before

After

Unlike the film, the church remains beautiful though. 

J-Lo glows.

Jennifer Lopez is the reason why American Idol remains a guilty pleasure for me. I don’t care much about the singing (or screaming) and the judging (much too kind).  It’s J-Lo’s glow that I love to see two nights in a week.  She’s more lovable now, warmer, more real. Even prettier than the time since burst into Hollywood.  Some say she puts on too much blush.  I dare them to be just as adventurous and put on green make-up.  Hindi nila kaya.  Only J-Lo can get away with it.

Before AI though, I had forgotten about J-Lo.  I think she laid low after marrying Latin superstar Marc Anthony.  Before marrying Marc Anthony, I had grown to dislike her.  Call it the umay factor, like having too much of halayang ube (jam made from purple yam).  She seemed too much in a hurry to reach iconic status.  She did awful films (Gigli, Enough, Monster-in-Law, Maid in Manhattan).  She was always on the red carpet in hideous Donatellas.  She’d be shaking her booty all the time on MTV.

But some of you may not know that she started out as a great actress, way before shacking up with Ben and P. Diddy.  The greatest onscreen chemistry from the 90s belongs to J-Lo and George Clooney, playing a marshall and a fugitive, respectively, in Steven Soderbergh’s Out of Sight (1998).  It’s a crime/action film that’s different from the usual that’d star Bruce Willis or Jason Statham.  The plot is not as important as what goes on between the two main players.  J-Lo and George get in on so believably.

Now that I like you again J-Lo, you must consider doing another film with George, who isn’t so bad himself at 50something.

Mourning Nina

With every passing of an icon, the world pauses dramatically, some reacting with greater emotion.  I remember a friend weeping when Jim Henson, the creator of Sesame Street and The Muppets, died in 1990.  I remember seeing fans of John Lennon going wild on TV when he was killed outside his New York apartment.  The hysteria that followed Michael Jackson’s untimely death is still fresh.  A gay friend predicts rainbow flags hanging half-mast, or even national flags in countries with huge gay populations, when Madonna’s time will come.

Nina Simone’s death in 2003 was the one that had an impact on me.   The ‘High Priestess of Soul’ was honest, vulnerable and passionate in every song she sang.  She sang the truth, sometimes quite indignantly since she was a black civil rights advocate at time when it was unpopular to be one.  She sang like she was channeling every part of her spirit to touch the listener.   

Listen to “I loves you Porgy”, her cover of “Here Comes The Sun”, "Ne me quitte pas", and be enthralled. 

The movies loved Nina! My fave Nina moment was in the pivotal heist in The Thomas Crown Affair remake.  Nina wails “Sinnerman” as dozens of men all dressed alike, like Magritte’s man in a bowler hat, red tie and black suit, scatter through the halls of MOMA to confuse the cops.

Nina the icon and Nina’s music figure prominently in Point of No Return, the La Femme Nikita remake where the troubled Bridget Fonda character would turn to Nina’s music for comfort; and in the underrated Before Sunset’s final scene between Julie Delphy and Ethan Hawke.  In both movies, art imitates a life full of love for Nina.

Here’s the Before Sunset link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMqePx7Kp3A&feature=related

Hitchcock the chic

Dug up this boxed set of Alfred Hitchcock’s radio broadcasts while I was sorting out my junk.  It’s quite interesting but it mustn’t be played while driving.   The suspense adds to the stress of city driving. 

Hitchcock’s longer film versions are more satisfactory.  I mustn’t write about the filmmaking legacy of one of the greatest filmmakers in history.   What is there to say about his style that hasn’t been said before?  So, if you love the movies, you must at least have Vertigo, Psycho, Rear Window and The Birds in your library.

What fascinates me as much as Hitchcock’s directing style is the styling in his movies.   His vivid aesthetic is evident in casting, set design and costumes.  The visuals are delicious to look at.  Yet always, you’d know that something ominous and perverse lurks behind all the elegant details.

Tippi Hedren in 'Marnie': beautiful and sophisticated, yet treacherous.

Tippi Hedren's look in 'The Birds' was so iconic that Mattel had to pay homage.
You must look as chic as Tippi when a flock of crows swoops down on you.

The coiff and Kim Novak in 'Vertigo'.

Hitchcock loved icy blondes, like Grace Kelly in 'Rear Window'.

The gorgeous bachelor's pad in 'Rear Window'

The house in 'North by Northwest'

Suffering from Thia Megia

Is there a term for engaging in certain things repeatedly that actually cause you pain and suffering?  It’s not exactly masochism because an essential feature of that condition is gratification.

That condition which has yet to be named afflicts me.  I read Carmen Pedrosa’s column even if it’s predictably full of hate. I watch this award-winning weekly local docu on cable which is self-indulgent and unnecessarily theatrical.  Anything with Jada Pinkett-Smith and Sarah Michelle-Gellar.  CNN newscaster Kristie Lu-Stout.  Books with vampires.  And, American Idol.

AI’s show last Thursday had 12 contestants sing songs that were hits on the year they were born.  Thia Megia, born of Filipino immigrants, sang Colors of the Wind, the theme from Disney’s Pocahontas.  Hers is a most beautiful voice.  Her tone reminds me of Joanna Ampil’s. Joanna did Miss Saigon and several West End shows and played Mary Magdalene in a Jesus Christ Superstar revival.  Her performance was way superior to the original, Yvonne Elliman’s.  There was nothing colorful about Thia’s Colors of the Wind.  

Thia was born in 1995, the same year Alanis Morrisette’s Jagged Little Pill, Annie Lennox’s No More I Love Yous, Natalie Merchant’s Tigerlily, Brownstone’s If You Love Me, Madonna’s Bedtime Stories, and Janet Jackson’s Runaway came out.  I’m sure there were a lot more interesting '95 songs that AI had rights to.  But it had to be the boring Vanessa Williams song for Thia.

Thia, ano ba?  Please don’t make me suffer even more.  If you really have to do Disney next time, sing Belle’s song.  It’s more challenging for your vocal chops.