Back To IMAX

These are my three cousins during their first IMAX experience. We watched 'T-Rex Back To The Cretaceous.'

Rockista Princess

Please support our good friend,
PRINCESS
one of the 11 finalists in COLT45's ROCKISTA search on MTV.

Watch it on MTV, Mondays, 8PM. Starting October 23.
Replays on Wednesdays, 12 Noon and Tuesdays, 11PM.

Here's a behind the scenes clip from the last taping:

You Are The One

Watch the (original) full trailer of Star Cinema's
"You Are The One"
Starring Sam Milby & Toni Gonzaga
Showing on August 30, 2006

Love can't be denied...




You can also support the movie by voting for its theme song's video on MYX!

Simply type:
myx(space)vote(space)songtitle and send to 2366!

Thanks!

See Me Malaya

Today is officially the start of the Cinemalaya Independent Film Festival.

I used to dread the length of time I was made to wait for the results to come out, and now, it's actually here, and I'm part of it.

During the Sinetaktakan last week, when all the film makers involved were asked to discuss their films and the peripheral issues attached to independent filmmaking, I mentioned how nervous (nerbyous, ika nga, to better underscore my emotions) I felt about the coming week. We were asked to rate our films. I gave my own film a 9, saying that I subtracted a point because I was forced to edit out some of the scenes and sequences in order to meet the 20-minute maximum running time the competition rules imposed.

However, I clarified that how I rated "Labada" shouldn't be confused with an objective evaluation of my film. Most people would agree that any creative work can never be evaluated objectively. It's just not possible to quantify the merits of a creative output. I told the audience that with only a week left before the festival, the jitters are worse than ever.

The moderator told us first-timers that based on last year's festival, we'd probably be on automatic pilot mode once the festival starts. The deluge of emotions and the flurry of the events almost guarantee we won't even know what hit us.

It was a welcome thought.

Now that the day has come, I'm not sure how to describe what I'm feeling. There's a part of me that's excited about the good things that may be in store for me and my film. And there's another part that can't wait to see all of this over and done with.

Cinemalaya seems to imply a liberation of sorts. I've yet to see what it will do for me.

Wash And Learn

Watch the trailer of
Raz de la Torre's "LABADA"

The Cinemalaya 2006 Schedule for the Short Feature Finalists

SHORTS PROGRAM A:
1. 10:25 ng Gabi
2. Gee-Gee at Waterina
3. Kwarto
4. Labada by Raz de la Torre
5. No Passport Needed

SCHEDULE FOR PROGRAM A: (which includes Labada)

Tues, July 18 – 12:45pm (CCP Main Theater)
Weds, July 19 – 9:00pm (CCP Main Theater)
Thurs, July 20 – 9:00pm (Multi-Purpose Hall)
Fri, July 21 – 6:15pm (CCP Little Theater)
Sat, July 22 – 12:45pm (CCP Little Theater)


SHORTS PROGRAM B:
1. Orasyon
2. Parang Pelikula
3. Putot
4. Puwang by Anna Isabelle Matutina
5. Sa Silaw

SCHEDULE FOR SHORTS PROGRAM B: (which includes Puwang)

Tues, July 18 – 3:30pm (CCP Main Theatre)
Weds, July 19 – 6:15pm (CCP Little Theatre)
Fri, July 21 – 9:00pm (Multi-Purpose Hall)
Sat, July 22 – 9:00pm (CCP Main Theatre)
Sun, July 23 – 12:45pm (CCP Little Theatre)

Hung Out To Dry

Originally written on 11 April of this year.

I’m still reeling from the excitement.

A few hours ago, I was in the process of reading and cleaning my email inbox. After deleting countless egroup digests, an email that started this way, popped up:



April 11, 2006

MR. RAZ DE LA TORRE
# 38 Kalye Emerald, Tierra Pura VI
Tandang Sora, Quezon City

Dear Mr. de la Torre,



I was instantly curious about the formal salutation and eerily precise address...


In behalf of the Cinemalaya 2006 Organizing Committee, I would like to inform you that your entry to the Short Feature category…



I called out to the high heavens even before I reached the end of the email. I was ecstatic. I didn’t need to finish the email, and it wasn’t after jumping up and down for a good ten minutes did I actually finish reading it. I was hugging Sherlyn, a close friend who happened to be reading my email over my shoulder at that time (a pet peeve I managed to let slide this one time). The email, as it turns out, came from the Competition Director of this year’s Cinemalaya. It bore the news of my short film “Labada” making it to the Cinemalaya’s Short Feature category’s finalists.

It is such an unbelievable feeling.

You wish it would happen. You pray for it to happen. You go over and over the circumstances that could make it happen... but when it does, you still can't believe it’s happening. Being a finalist makes me feel like I’ve already won. I used to think that when Oscar nominees say that during the red carpet interviews, it's just a load of bull. Now I realize they probably mean it, if my own incredulity is any indication.

When I submitted “Labada” as an entry to the Cinemalaya short feature category at the beginning of the year, I kept it to myself and a few members of the crew who worked with me. I’m terribly insecure about things like this and I wanted to shield myself from the potential disappointment of not making it as a finalist. After all, my fears were founded. Last year’s Cinemalaya festival, which produced wonderful works like Mansyon (short feature best picture), Pepot Artista (full-length feature best picture), Big Time and Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros, was groundbreaking. It opened the eyes of many film buffs to the local independent cinema. As a result, more aspiring filmmakers were inspired to venture in independent film making. Myself included. I figured this year’s competition would lure more films. It’s like opening the floodgates.

The truth is, I had confidence in my short digital film. I always tell my friends that as long as I am entertained by my own work, I consider myself accomplished. I usually think this way about the storylines I submit to Star Cinema. Nevermind if the core group (the elite circle of power-wielders in the company) doesn't find my storyline good enough. Long as I'm happy with it, the pain of rejection becomes more bearable.

That's also true for “Labada.” However, I felt that in Cinemalaya, it’s just not enough that you like your work. The competition committee must like it too. And considering the subjective nature of film viewing, and the number of entries they must have received (36 short films this year, I heard, unless I'm mistaken), I couldn’t help but think there’s bound to be 10 other films better than mine. I believe in the wealth of undiscovered, unrecognized talent out there, and despite my desire to be included in their ranks, as most struggling artists are usually predisposed, I just didn't believe in myself enough.

Thus my reaction to the email that I just received.


* * *

Almost three months after receiving that email, I'm still reeling from the excitement.

In an effort not to preempt the news and jinx my good fortune, I put the publication of this entry on the back burner. I finally managed to write about it after the press conference last July 5. That, and a few newspaper articles that featured my name as finalist, finally legitimized the deal. I just submitted the miniDV copies for the Jury. Prior to that, I kept going back to the 'cutting board,' desperately figuring out other ways to improve the film before finally leaving it at the mercy of the viewing public. I'm done with the washing, it's time to hang it out to dry.

The excitement has been laced with an anxiety borne by the thought that no one might watch it, or conversely, that people might and wonder why Labada was included. God knows I've felt that way about a lot of films featured in various festivals (last year's Cinemalaya included). Anticipating being at the receiving end of all those criticisms scares the hell out of me. I can't help but feel personal about it. Like my film, I feel like I, too, have been hung out to dry.

It's a realm of emotions I'm willing to tread, however frightening it might be. I just comfort myself that if all else fails, I at least have my own sense of fulfillment to retreat to.

Ságada, Ságada't Su Dóku

Su Doku is my latest obsession. It is a game that involves filling in a 9x9 grid with numbers so that every row, column and 3x3 box contains numbers 1-9.

I was first introduced to it last December by my Singaporean friend Ben when we went on a trip to Sagada with Richard and Gerald, another friend from Singapore. As we were about to leave the Dangwa terminal, Ben whipped out his copy of the Straits Times (a Singaporean newspaper) and started working on the Su Doku. I was curious. He told me it's the latest craze in Singapore. Gerald got a piece of paper, copied the puzzle from the Straits, and started working on it as well. Both figured it'll be a great way to kill time during the long drive to Mountain Province. I wasn't instantly interested. I would much rather take in the sceneries. Later on, they couldn't take anymore of the puzzle and decided to sleep through the rest of the bus ride.

We got to Sagada late into the afternoon. We spent the first night resting in preparation for the hectic day that followed. After breakfast, we immediately headed to the big falls, known as Bumod'oc to the locals. I started getting cramps on our trek back from the falls. I fell behind the others just to keep my legs from giving out and collapsing altogether. I wanted to beg off the Sumaguing adventure but I didn't want the group to feel like I was being a kill joy so I sucked it up and went with them anyway. The cramps started acting up again, but I managed. As if the first wasn't torture enough, they insisted in going to the Sumaguing caves that same day. I originally scheduled a more relaxed, scenic trip to a spot overlooking the Sagada Rice Terraces. That meant we only had to sit, chill, take pictures and enjoy the view. But they wanted the caves, so I caved in. We barely made the cut off time for the cave excursions (sayang). That's no mean feat, considering we had to descend from from the top of a mountain to get to Bumod'oc, hike back up again going home (the whole episode was like reverse mountain climbing, which was much harder!), go back down again, this time for the caves, then finally climb back up from underground.

After our dinner at The Yoghurt House (where we had lunch earlier, and where we were to have breakfast the next day), we went back home. The inexistent night life, languid pace and distance of the inn from the town center kept us indoors as early as 7PM. With nothing much to do (the television was being hogged by another group of people who outnumbered us), Richard and I looked for clean sheets of paper and started working on the Su Doku as well.

The fulfillment brought about by filling the boxes with the right numbers is very addictive. I never finished the puzzle (we had to leave the following day), but I've always been curious if I could.

A month or so ago, I saw in Newsbreak (the magazine) a notice saying they were going to feature Su Doku in their bimonthly issue. Sometime at the beginning of June, I saw a similar notice in the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

It wasn't until this week that I decided to check out the Su Doku puzzles. Now, it's one of the first things I look for when I read the papers. I'm proud to say that since I started answering the puzzles four days ago, I haven't failed at completing the boxes correctly. The Newsbreak Su Doku's are much harder though. I tried two of them and both times, I've been stumped. But I haven't given up.

I just feel so accomplished cause I never, ever, complete crossword puzzles. (I've to cut me self some slack though, crosswords are harder). Finally, I've succeeded in finishing a puzzle featured in a daily. For a difficulty rating of three stars, I'm now able to solve a puzzle in as quick as five minutes. Pretty good, I think.

Security

Last week, after watching "The Lakehouse" (starring Sandra and the ageing Keanu) and dropping off Che, I met up with my friend Jarell and decided to have a round of beers in Kalye Juan (Tomas Morato). We were sharing work angsts. He was contemplating leaving his job in Maalaala Mo Kaya (MMK), and he wanted to unload on someone lest he commit to a decision with nary a thought and end up regretting it. I gladly obliged, and took the opportunity to unload some of the work baggage that's been weighing down my shoulders. Indeed, misery loves company. And San Mig Light.

Jarell has been working for MMK for almost as long as I've been with Star Cinema. He started as a researcher, and now works as the show's head researcher. It doesn't sound like it's a big step up, but it actually is. For weeks now, he's been feeling a little stifled by the work load and the erratic and unstable income. He tried consoling himself by looking ahead, by exploring the possibilities in store for him, only to be disappointed cause there might be none. He looked at his seniors who, in Jarell's words, blew off their youth in this same job he's holding. It took them years to get where they are now, resident writers for MMK. He looks at them and sees how sucked out and wasted they are, and Jarell's suddenly not too sure if all this is truly worth it.

I asked him what his options are if he was to leave MMK. He's thinking about leaving for the Middle East to work in a hotel. His relatives tell him that he only needs to train for six months after which they are sure to find a job for him. It's not like Jarell has been dying to get into the hotel industry, but the hefty pay check the job promises to reward him will at least provide him the security he's been looking for. Being passionate about your job just isn't enough. He'd love to stick around as a writer, but right now, it's just not sensible to do so.

Our conversation corroborated the prevalent restlessness symptomatic of kids my age. Even friends with fatter salaries in other jobs don't feel like they're getting enough. Imagine how much worse it is for us who try to live off creative writing. Jarell thinks I'm lucky cause my mom's well-to-do and there to supplement the unbelievably low compensation writers like me in the Philippines get. But what of the future, when my life's completely my own and there isn't my mom's wealth to rely on anymore?

In writing, there isn't a ladder you can climb up, unlike in corporations. There are no rungs to step or hold on to to pull yourself higher. We're not assured of salary increases every X number of months of service. Rarely are we given the statutory benefits most employees get.

In writing, it's just about you and your work. Years of writing can improve one's craft, but it doesn't guarantee an increase in one's value. Companies (in this case, TV stations or film outfits) may hold you in a particular esteem, but in the end, it's still about your work. If they don't like what you hand to them on your deadline, you're asked to revise or put out of commission altogether. It takes a lot of laborious years to build on a good name, but it only takes one bad draft to be of ill-repute.

In writing, there are no tangible standards for excellence. One cannot be guaranteed a promotion after writing for a certain number of years, or after being published, or after a film you wrote grosses over a hundred million in the box office. For starters, there isn't a higher position to promote a writer to. But more importantly, excellence can't be measured because the whole business of writing, of creation, is subjective.

I feel restless because of the uncertainty. Or perhaps because I've always thought that good things come to those who are patient, to those who deserve it. This epiphany about the nature of writing as a profession tells me that you don't always get what you deserve. I want to do everything I can so I can remain in the industry, scribbling and imagining and creating until my dying breath. But it isn't all up to me, much as I want to be the one in complete control.

On top of that, I want to feel secure. I want to be assured that pursuing this passion will yield to a bright and fulfilled future. That I'll be okay for as long as I work hard and believe in my capabilities. But it isn't all up to me, much as I want it to be.

Jarell admitted that even if he ended up leaving his job, he would still want to return to it. There is still nothing he would rather do than write. He just wants to earn enough so he can focus on what he loves doing in the future.

All of a sudden, our conversation was interrupted by this commotion. A guy whose mouth was bleeding came running down from the bar above Kalye Juan. He was shouting for help, asking the men on the ground floor to block the door and not let his pursuers out. In a few seconds, four other guys appeared. Apparently, they were in an altercation upstairs. Something about the guy with the bleeding mouth being maangas. The ladies from both groups desperately tried to keep them off each other, but the four guys were too inebriated to listen to reason. The girls asked the security guard from the bar we were in to intervene, but the guard said,

"Di po sa amin yan, di ako pwedeng basta makialam."

The customers on the other table immediately fled the scene, afraid they might get involved. I told Jarell to stay put, sure that they wouldn't involve us unless we did anything stupid to call attention to ourselves. So Jarell and I just sat there to watch the ongoing ruckus.

The bleeding guy, in a major blunder, decided to take refuge inside Kalye Juan, where we were drinking (I was thinking, kundi ka ba naman tanga, e di lalo kang na-corner. Dapat nagtatatakbo ka na lang o nag-taxi paalis.) Naturally, the drunken quartet tried to follow him inside. All the Kalye Juan waiters retreated to their kitchen. The girl who was with the bleeding guy stayed outside Kalye Juan, inserted her arm through the door handles to keep it shut, and tearfully begged the drunken quartet to have mercy on her friend. The drunken quartet was relentless. It was a glass door, so they could see their target with his tail between his legs, wailing,

"Tama na, please! Sorry na nga e..."

(comment to self: "Ang yabang yabang kanina, titiklop din pala.")

They were less than a meter away from Jarell and me, who were still lounging on our chairs.

At this point, some of the other original customers from Kalye Juan had started goading the bar's security guard (the same one who washed his hands off of any obligation to get involved) to do something about the disturbance. His earlier excuse had been rendered inadmissible since they were actually inside Kalye Juan already. He was duty bound to protect the bars customers and employees. The guard reluctantly took his gun from its holster. But one of the guys saw him and started shouting at the guard,

"Ano, ipuputok mo yan? Ipuputok mo yan!? Sige nga! Sige, iputok mo!"

The guard just backed off. Obviously, the guard wasn't a believer of sticks and stones hurting the quartet's bones, cause words were enough to hurt him. I then noticed one of the guys pick up an empty glass from the table nearest to them. That's when I finally asked Jarell that we better steer clear of any flying shards or ricocheting bullets. Things were getting out of hand.

The exchange of shouts lasted for a few more minutes before being capped by one of the quartet throwing the glass at the guy when glass doors opened wide enough to allow his hand inside. The glass shattered to pieces, but fortunately hurt no one. And then, the quartet was gone.

The bleeding guy lingered inside the bar for a few more minutes before emerging. By then, the rest of the customers who witnessed the hoopla (us included) were just already talking about how the policemen are always too late the hero. And then there was the security guard! Talk about being useless! We rarely see security guards in action, but I've always had faith in them. This would've been the best time to show his wares, to finally get some piece of the action, to live up to his sworn duty. But he just backed off. Probably more afraid of hurting the our tormentors than potentially getting their innocent patrons hurt.

Which only proves my point that there is no real security in this world. Whether it be in our careers, our future, or in bar brawls. We can only do so much, and the rest, faith will have to account for.

For Take Out

Don't you wish there was a counter
where you could do just that?

Breaking New Ground

A new ranch to park my thoughts in.