running on empty. how far can you go?
Hello, Lovine.com
Wherever you go, there you are.
couldn't sleep and woke up at 8am. thoughts rushing in with freight train momentum, a concave ceiling dotted with stars of people that i've met over the years, slowly descending but coming in all at once. i can feel the butt on my chair, but am transient in substance as the back of my mind is awash with faces of old acquaintances that greet me in a neverending stream of recollection. i wonder how they're doing. are you out there?
in the strange morning silence comes a brief moment where i'm a passerby in my own life, a stranger to my own comforts.
wow! i am allergic to chicken, those filthy little animals. birds are dirty. if i had it my way, i'd eat sushi all the time. mmm, hamatchi and uni..
everyone's trying to break the mold and jump out of a pidgeon hole, while vesting enough slack to wade in the pool with everyone else. hey, look at me! i'm just like you. there are some people that drown themselves in 'me' talk, while the rare few do nothing but listen as you crack open your defenses and expose yourself. you crown them friend by virtue of their open ear, without even really knowing who they are. this allows unfiltered assumptions take hold, and i really don't know what the shnizzle i'm talking about right now. quite a dumping ground for that urge to figuratively stick your neck out a little bit more, stretch a few noodles and be silly only because you can afford to be, without endangering anyone's space.
apparently, ants are resilient to microwaves. might be my imagination, but after a healthy dosage of high powered zapping, their antennae seem tightly bristled and pace frantically around the cubic interior. the musings of a guy with the curiosity of a cat. too bad i'm not evil enough to microwave my sister's goldfish. hehe.. oh, hello elmo.
heaven as a splendid plethora of spiritual zen. of all good things eternal, of salvation and contentment. heaven, what it boils down to, is having alicia keys sitting on my left thigh.. and jennifer love hewitt on my right... and throw in brooke burke massaging my back for good measure. whew.
back up a little bit, have a little space to stretch arms. look up at the stars and take a breathe of silver sky, close eyes slowly and sink right back into consciousness. to be aware of the grass between the toes, warm body taut against the cold night shimmer. on top of a lonely hill, a dance against hazy uncertainties but dreams remain afloat.
maybe the stars aren't exactly aligned right now, and who really knows for certain what tomorrow brings? the sandman gives the gift of slumber, but fortunes and dreams are gifts bourne of your own wings.
for the past two nights, i've been spending some time going through personal tsunami encounters, pictures, and video before i go to bed. it's a reminder of nature's unwavering control and power. however, what bothers me is not the force of nature, but the tragedy of thousands of lives that are changed in an instant.
when i finally decide to call it a night, i try to count my blessings. for each life that was lost, is a friend, brother, sister, parent, a loved one lost. 160,000 is just a number, but the implications of that are staggering. man, this is absurdly horrid. i feel.. unreal. at what point in our lives do we really wake up? hopefully, not when one of it ends.
our christmas tree sits idly, a scatters of shed leaves testament to the passing seasons. it's weird knowing that the 'christmas smell' of a live douglas fir tree comes at the price of its life. an icon of the yuletide season denied the fact that it is slowly dying, forever masked by the bright lights, shiny balls and the avalanche of gifts it holds in its slumber. but when the wrapping has been torn, and the days turn into weeks, the leaves begin to wilt and fall.
it's that time of passing seasons that pave the way to new beginnings.
something that was sent my way, origins unknown: To kinder gods and fiercer loves, to wild abandonments and gentle moments, to wine, to sunsets and to passion, to new beginnings and revolutions. Cheers.
have a great new year, everybody. :)
my mind has been quite a blank lately, almost as if i've said everything i've wanted to say. and with good timing i guess, as the year wraps up. it might be time to look for bigger adventures as the new year rolls along. wait, you know what, i'm so sick of talking about adventures. dude, i'm sick of talking period. or maybe, i'm just sick. or maybe i'm just bored. in the middle of the morning. again. blah blah blah, yadda.
( jingle balls )
and so i quote snoop do-double-g, from the t-mobile commercial. "everybody needs a sidekick."
( Boycott Metro Manila Film Festival )
It has long been said that Philippine Cinema is on its death-bed. This statement is incorrect. The Philippine film industry, not Cinema as a whole, is; and rightly so. Hundreds of millions of pesos are wasted by the Film Industry investing in works that can not hold a candle to smaller, independent productions, both long (Lav Diaz's towering achievements: the 5-hour "Batang West Side" and the 11-hour "Ebolusyon ng Isang Pamilyang Pilipino," which has screened in New York and Toronto, and will also be travelling to Rotterdam and Goteborg) and short (Sherad Anthony Sanchez's 11-minute "Apple," a powerful, moving elegy on the loss of youth and innocence through child-prostitution, premiering in Rotterdam this January alongside "Ebolusyon" and works by Khavn Dela Cruz and Rox Lee) that are invested with passion and made with purpose.
Earlier this year I wrote I an article about the Metro Manila Film Festival for Indiefilipino.com (http://film.indiefilipino.com/item.php?id=118), lamenting not just the lack of desire to show quality films, but also the ridiculous selection process of the "festival". Said article can be read at the end of this email.
This year's festival is an even bigger mockery than the last, with 4 of the 8 participating films being produced or co-produced by Regal Films head Mother Lily and 3 films being directed by Joel Lamangan.
How is that for pushing for a progressive diverse cinema?
The Philippine Film Industry is on its death-bed...the Metro Manila Film Festival is holding the last nail to seal its coffin. The audience holds the hammer.
If you want to see the best of what Philippine Cinema has to offer, if you want stand up for the choice of better movies, better values, and a better cinema, do not watch any of the films in the Metro Manila Film Festival. I certainly won't.
P.S.
The Breakfast Show on Studio 23 will be airing a special episode dedicated to Philippine Independent Cinema in 2004, 6:30-8:00am this Friday December 31.
If you would like to see and hear from the filmmakers behind some of the best and most interesting works in Philippine Cinema in 2004, tune-in. Featured guests are Khavn Dela Cruz ("Ang Pamilyang Kumakain ng Lupa"), John Torres ("Salat" and "Tawid Gutom"), Pam Miras ("Blood Bank"), Lav Diaz ("Ebolusyon ng Isang Pamilyang Pilipino"), Rox Lee ("Romeo Must Rock"), "Bunso" by Ditsi Carolino (film discussed, filmmaker not present), Mes De Guzman ("Diliman") and Raya Martin ("The Island at the End of the World").
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REINVIGORATING PHILIPPINE CINEMA
The Possibilities of the Metro Manila Film Festival
by Alexis Tioseco
Alexis Tioseco writes about the inanity that is the Metro Manila Film Festival, and suggests ways in which to improve the farce
Audiences and industry folk alike have long been preaching the death of Philippine cinema. We gaze back fondly through sepia shades and smile at the glory of our past, shake and scratch our heads lamenting over our pathetic present, and blink and miss opportunities to improve our future.
The Metro Manila Film Festival is a great idea to support the local film industry. It reserves the time of year when most people are able to enjoy days of leisure, and allows only locally-produced films to be shown in commercial theaters. At the same time, it stages a "Film Festival," a term that carries with it the connotation of presenting films of a higher-than-normal quality, and supposedly highlights our best works, bestowing them with awards and showcasing them: allowing the films to humor, move, teach, challenge, identify with and unite the county in a celebration of art and the best of what the Filipino is capable of.
The Metro Manila Film Festival is a great idea to support the local film industry.
Unfortunately, it is only an idea.
As it exists today, the Metro Manila Film Festival accomplishes all of the above-- reserves the Christmas season for a display of local works, stages a "Film Festival," and gives out awards. What is lacking, however-- sorely, painfully, sadly-- is the driving desire to show quality films.
The decision of whether a film will or will not be accepted into the Metro Manila Film Festival is made all the way back in July, usually before even a single frame of film for ANY of the projects to be considered has been shot.
If shooting of the film has not yet begun, how then, one might ask, are the films chosen? Based on the script?
If the script has been written, yes.
But what if, as of July, there is no script-- as was the case with Regal Films entry Mano Po 2?
Why, no matter, simply submit an outline of the plot.
And if there is no plot yet?
Umm... a list of the cast will be fine.
And if the entire cast has not yet been confirmed?
A proposed list will do just as well.
Are you beginning to see the inanity of it all?
What would happen, if, say, the announced director of a project drops out, and the submitted script; the script that the selection committee read and was the basis for the film's inclusion (and ranking) in the festival, is completely re-written? This was the case with one of 2003's MMFF entries, Captain Barbell: Quark Henares dropped out as director, and the original script written by Lyndon Santos and Ramon De Veyra that was approved by the Metro Manila Film Fest was re-written by RJ Nuevas beyond any semblance of its former self.
Would not this illicit a second look by the selection committee? Would it not warrant an investigation into whether the film still merited its slot (and ranking) in the festival?
As this year's festival's selection committee made apparent: No. Captain Barbell stayed in the festival without so much as a peep or raised eyebrow from the selection committee, nor, heaven forbid, a read-through of the new script or preview of the film beforehand.
What exactly is the criterion for the selection of films into the MMFF? Director Joey Romero, a member of the screening committee, broke it down in a December 13 article that appeared in the Philippine Daily Inquirer: creativity and style, 50 %; commercial viability, 30%; and exemplifying Filipino culture and history, 20%.
EXCUSE ME?!
Before anything else, let us remember that the selection committee makes their choices, at most, based on the script. Sometimes, as has been outlined above, the decision is made based on much less than that. Disregarding the idiocy of the film's script being the final arbiter of its inclusion in a Film Festival, let alone a script that is often radically changed before, during, and after shooting, but to judge a film's CREATIVITY AND STYLE, or COMMERCIAL VIABILITY, based on its script?! A film is not the equivalent of a book of prose-- audiences don't read it; they see and hear it, and creativity and style in the written form don't necessarily translate to creativity and style on the big screen.
The MMFF is a great idea to support the local film industry. But in order to turn that idea into a reality, some serious changes need to be made.
Imagine a December festival done properly: one that, for example, chose to bring back the best films of the past year, chosen after viewing the finished film, not the cast list, not the plot, not the first draft of the script. Imagine a festival that awarded the acclaimed but overlooked films of the past year, such as Maryo J. Delos Reyes's Magnifico, Quark Henares's Keka, Mario O'Hara's Babae sa Breakwater, or even Lav Diaz's Singapore and Brussels Film Festival Best Film awardee Batang West Side of 2 years ago (a film that has received awards and been screened in numerous prestigious film festivals abroad, but which until now has never seen a commercial release in the Philippines), and re-released and re-introduced them to local audiences.
Imagine a festival that dared to do something as radical yet practical as encourage and promote our young and courageous independent filmmakers, artists like Khavn Dela Cruz, RA Rivera, Ditsi Carolino, Ramona Diaz, Sari and Kiri Dalena, and Raymond and Jon Red (to name but a few), by showing their works theatrically, either before a film or in combination as a feature in itself, introducing them to Philippine audiences.
What if, perhaps, 2 or 3 classic films were chosen each year to be shown during the festival, to re-introduce to Philippine audiences young and old the important works of our cultural history?
What we would have, then, is a breeding ground for the education of our audience towards our cinema's past, a display of the absolute best of its present, and a harvest of the seeds of its future.
Having a festival where a prime consideration for a film's acceptance or rejection is its "commercial viability," is utterly ridiculous. Without getting into the argument over the selection committee's mystical methodology for determining a work's "commercial viability" (based simply on the reading of a cast list, plot, or even script) it is safe to say that this should not even be of concern to the festival organizers. Choosing the best possible films should be their main concern, as making the best possible films should be the concern of the filmmakers. The audience is there-- the responsibility in a festival such as this does not lie in showing them what we believe they want to see, but simply showing the absolute best of what we have to offer.
The Metro Manila Festival is a good idea for a way to support the local film industry. But without a drastic overhaul in regard to its implementation, it will remain simply an idea.
merry christmas, kids! wherever in the world you may be, chances are i'm missing you :)
i'm still feeling a bit detached lately, almost as if i'm an outsider to my own life. and although it shouldn't really bother me, i've been thinking about how i'm supposed to fit in other people's lives as well. most of the time i wouldn't really care, but i just felt like writing that. perhaps i'm having too many idle moments and allow myself to downplay my life as a sham? idle moments not necessarily brought about by my unemployment (which seems like will end soon), but by the lack of general excitement. intrepid explorers, we are! now i just need to find my hobbes. i guess i'll save that for the new year. :)
my eyes are open but can hardly see, i listen to music in the middle of the night and its the only thing that seems to make sense in a deep entanglement of numb emotion. heavy dosage of winston and the telescreen whom i saw last saturday, and listening to this band called phoenix right now. good stuff.
how much faster is the speed of light in comparison to the electrical nervous wirings in our bodies? random musings that might have some drunken philosophical meaning. too bad i'm sober.
i've had this blog since '02. funny how it changes month per month, and i really don't know what direction its headed. babbling idiot one moment, drunken kung fu master the next. elevator girl flop-sided anti-romance, secret messages between the lines. happy, sad, down and out and high up and about, i'll still be around i guess. it's just weird thinking that someone's reading this. almost as if its some sort of sick twisted voyeourism. but for what it's worth, i still try to tread across as much of the world i can sink my toes into. literally, and figuratively. as the wonderful japanese would proclaim.. all your base are belong to us.
while the rest of the world drown themselves in their petty problems, and seek in vain to quantify and validate their existence, mine has been reduced to being the recipient of your smiling eyes. you probably don't know how much that means to me, while the world disappears in your embrace. it's funny how you don't even know how much it's worth.