Talkin' 'Bout My Generation: A Conversation With Eddie Romero

“We have a better crop of directors now than
we ever did in the past because most of
them studied filmmaking. In my generation,
we were just flying by the seat of our pants!”

- Eddie Romero

Edgar Sinco “Eddie” Romero has been making films for almost 60 years. His long career as both writer and director has produced some of the best-loved classic Filipino films. It can be said that he is the bridge between two generations of great filmmakers, two generations that gave birth to the First and Second Golden Ages of Philippine cinema: Lamberto Avellana and Gerardo de Leon in the 1950s and Lino Brocka, Ishmael Bernal, and Mike de Leon in the 1970s and 80s. He was around during the halcyon days of LVN and Sampaguita Pictures until they were replaced by today’s Regal and Viva Films.

Eddie Romero’s works are not only recognized here but in the United States as well. In the 1960s, a dull period in the local movie industry, Eddie collaborated with director Gerry de Leon to make films for U.S.-based independent movie companies like those of Roger Corman’s and came out with peculiar titles like Brides of Blood Island (1965), Mad Doctor of Blood Island (1968), and Beast of Blood (1969; later known as the “Blood Trilogy”). He also megged the cult favorite Black Mama, White Mama (1973) starring Pam Grier. Although classified as low-budget exploitation movies, these are now considered as some of the classics of American cult cinema and have been released in “Special Edition” packages on DVD. A testament to the underground cult status of Eddie’s work in the U.S. is when celebrated American filmmaker Quentin Tarantino cites Black Mama, White Mama as one of his influences.

Much has been written about Eddie Romero’s achievements during the Second Golden Age. His 1976 film Ganito Kami Noon, Paano Kayo Ngayon? is included in the Manunuri ng Pelikulang Pilipino’s list of Top Ten films from 1970-2000. The film has been featured and discussed in countless articles and essays in books, journals, magazines, and newspapers. Few really focused on his early years in the movie industry. How did he start his career as a filmmaker? Who were his influences? What can he say about the Filipino directors of the 40s and 50s?

Born on July 7, 1924 in Dumaguete City, Eddie Romero came from a wealthy and intellectual family. His father was the late Congressman and Ambassador to London Jose Romero and his uncle on his mother’s side was Vicente Sinco, the president of the University of the Philippines in the 1930s. At a very early age, Eddie already discovered a passion for writing. “I love writing,” he says. “As early as eight years old I was already writing short stories. I had no formal schooling. I was writing through instinct. I took no great pride in it, basta iyon ang gusto kong gawin. I can’t even call it talent. I wasn’t aware of it.” At age 12, Eddie wrote a short mystery story which was published in the Philippine Free Press, “But that was a fluke. It took another two years for me to sell the next one.” His Manila-based uncle, Vicente Sinco, then offered him a job to work in Panorama magazine, one of several publications his uncle owns. Panorama was like the local version of Reader’s Digest and Eddie’s task was to condense articles from various magazines. He was only 14 years old and was still in high school, “Working there was very good training for me and my Uncle Vicente was a very good coach. He had a great instinct for editing unnecessary words.” His uncle’s other publications also served as a venue for Eddie to publish more of his short stories.

Towards the end of 1940, Eddie received a call from director Gerardo “Gerry” de Leon asking him if he is interested in writing a screenplay. Gerry de Leon had read some of Eddie’s short stories and was impressed by the young man’s talent. At that time, Eddie has never heard of Gerry de Leon but he was willing to accept his offer. There was only one problem: he has yet to learn how to write and speak Tagalog. When told of his predicament, de Leon, according to Eddie, said to him, “It’s okay. Hindi problema na hindi ka nananagalog. Tagalog ako, I can translate it for you. I think you can write a screenplay.”

A year later, Eddie came out with the script of Ang Maestra. Directed by Gerry de Leon and produced under Filippine Films and Rogelio de la Rosa (RDR) Productions, the movie stars Rogelio de la Rosa and Rosa del Rosario. Ang Maestra became a tremendous box-office hit and de Leon prodded Eddie to write another screenplay. Eddie obliged and in early 1942 he finished writing Anong Ganda Mo. According to Eddie, that year was supposed to be the turning point in his career, “Pagkatapos ng shooting tinanong ako ni Gerry, ‘Kailan ka magi-eighteen?’ Sabi ko, ‘Next year.’ Sabi naman niya, ‘Next year direktor ka na.’ But I said, ‘I don’t know anything about directing,’ and he said to me, ‘Who does?’” Unfortunately, World War II broke out and all the movie studios closed down. Eddie, denied of a chance of directing his first movie, was forced to go back home to Dumaguete.

Anong Ganda Mo was eventually shown during the Japanese Occupation. It was in this period that Eddie became a big fan of Japanese filmmaker Abe Yutaka, who came to the Philippines as head of Guno Rabo, the Japanese propaganda organization, “Gerry de Leon became Abe Yutaka’s associate director and Gerry learned a lot from him. Abe Yutaka is one of the great Japanese filmmakers. Kanya ‘yung Dawn of Freedom. After that movie, Gerry made Tatlong Maria at tinulungan pa siya ni Yutaka doon.”

A few years after the war, Eddie went back to Manila and became the managing editor of The Manila Events Mirror. This gave him the opportunity to work with much-older and more-seasoned columnists like Doroy Valencia, Melchor Aquino, Joe Guevarra, and Manuel Salac. With the war over, movie companies started going back into production and Gerry de Leon, who was then with Sampaguita Pictures, called on Eddie to write the screenplay of two of his movies: So Long, America (1946) which stars Angel Esmeralda, Fely Vallejo, and Johnny Arville and Isumpa Mo Giliw (1947) starring Elsa Oria, Ely Ramos, Angel Esmeralda, and Fely Vallejo. After that Eddie started to help in the advertising department of Sampaguita Pictures under Pinggot Perez, the son-in-law of Sampaguita president Jose O. Vera. Pinggot and his wife, Nene, felt that it was time for Eddie to direct his own movie. The promise that Gerry de Leon made to Eddie in 1942 will finally come true. But there was the perennial problem of Eddie not being able to speak Tagalog. Pinggot and Nene assured Eddie that it will not be a hindrance, “Sabi ng mag-asawa, ‘Tingnan mo, the actors can speak English. Carmen Rosales speaks English. Leopoldo Salcedo speaks English…well, kind of. Puwede ka na rin.’ So they took a chance with me and that’s when I started as a director.” His first directorial assignment was Ang Kamay Ng Diyos (1947). Eddie eventually stayed with Sampaguita Pictures from 1947 to 1953. Most of his early movies were either melodramas or comedies. Always the prolific storyteller, he directed 17 movies in a span of 6 years, 6 of which he made in 1953 alone.

While at Sampaguita, Eddie’s father, Jose Romero, was appointed to be the Philippine Ambassador to London. In 1950, Eddie took one year off from Sampaguita to join his father in London. Ironically, it was in that foreign country where Eddie learned how to speak fluent Tagalog, “Doon ako natuto ng Tagalog dahil ‘yung staff ng father ko, homesick lahat, at karamihan Tagalog. Pati mga naging barkada ko ‘don Tagalog. Ang problema, komo Bisaya ako at wala kaming third person, napakabastos ng Tagalog ko. Walang ‘po’, walang ‘kayo’.” Eddie spent a lot of time in the museum of the British Film Institute, attending different film workshops and lectures. In one of those workshops he met David Lean and Gavin Lambert who, according to Eddie, were still young jobless writers writing film criticism.

Eddie also traveled to Italy where he got the chance to observe Roberto Rosellini at work. Italy was then in the middle of Neorealist filmmaking producing classic works such as Rosellini’s Rome: Open City (1945) and Vittorio de Sica’s The Bicycle Thief (1948), “Rosellini was very, very kind. He didn’t know me from Adam. He barely knew the Philippines but he allowed me to visit him in his cutting room.” On his way back, Eddie made a stopover in Hollywood where he was lucky enough to meet Vincente Minelli.

Eddie went back to Manila a year later and left Sampaguita in 1953. He spent the next several years working as an independent filmmaker. Eddie was very fond of watching cowboy movies from Hollywood and that gave him an idea, “I was thinking ‘yung mga cowboy na pinapanood ko, ‘yung mga Bob Steele, Hoot Gibson, Ken Maynard – kaya ko ‘yon. Pero I have to go to America to find out. I guess I didn’t know any better.” So every now and then, Eddie would fly to California and touch base with the people in the movie business. It took him a while until finally he met someone from Columbia Pictures who was interested in his concepts, “Hindi siya producer. He was a soundman, pero maraming kakilala. We got together. I suggested to him that I can raise the money to shoot it in the Philippines, kung meron tayo distribution dito. So we did that.” Eddie was able to get funding from Adela Santiago’s Premiere Productions. He asked his friend and former mentor, Gerry de Leon, to co-direct the movie with him. Thus came Eddie’s first American movie, The Day of the Trumpet (1958), a co-production of Premiere Productions and the U.S.-based Parade Productions. The movie was shot in the Philippines and was released under the title The Cavalry Command. “That started me with American films. I am eternally grateful to Mrs. Adela Santiago. She was the only one who had the guts to really go for it.” Since then, through his contacts in California and Premier Productions, Eddie would once in a while make American movies. The cast of these movies, most of which were shot in the Philippines, would always feature a mixture of American and Filipino actors. This period in his career would last until 1975.

Eddie’s early works, including his American movies, are nothing compared to the films he will eventually make in the late 70s and early 80s. One will notice that although he was already making films during the First Golden Age, none of his films from that era stood out. Eddie may have been a late bloomer, but he still has his favorites among his early films, “’Yung malapit sa puso ko walang koneksyon sa quality ng film…I’ve done a lot of really lousy films kasi hanapbuhay. One of my favorites was this musical film I made for Sampaguita with Pancho Magalona and Tita Duran. It was called Kasintahan Sa Pangarap. In that film, I was able to use for the first time the things I have learned in Europe. Another was Ang Prinsesa At Ang Pulubi which was based on Mark Twain’s The Prince And The Pauper. It won the first Maria Clara Award. Tinalo pa namin ang Sisa ni Gerry de Leon.”

Early in his career, Eddie considers filmmaking merely as a job and not as an art form. It was in his independent productions that Eddie cites one important film which he considers as a turning point in his work, “There’s this film which I did not even direct, my friend Cesar Amigo from Dumaguete directed it. But I wrote it, it was my production, I edited it. It was called Sa Atin Ang Daigdig. To me, that was a turning point. It had some kind of vision about the world I live in. That was really the point of commitment to film for me. Before that, filmmaking was only for entertainment, hanapbuhay lang. It started with that, followed by the films I did for Cirio Santiago, especially ‘yung Pitong Gabi Sa Paris. Then finally for the American market, ‘yung The Passionate Strangers with Mike Parsons.”

When Eddie stopped making American movies and concentrated on Filipino productions, he has already transformed himself into the film artist that we know today. After finishing Sudden Death in 1975, he quickly returned to the local movie industry with a vengeance. His 1976 production of Ganito Kami Noon, Paano Kayo Ngayon? won some of the top honors for that year. The 52 year-old filmmaker was put alongside the new, and much younger, generation of Lino Brocka, Ishmael Bernal, and Mike de Leon as one of the prime movers of this new wave of Filipino filmmaking. After Ganito Kami Noon, Eddie continued to produce a string of noteworthy films such as Sinong Kasiping, Sinong Kapiling? and Banta ng Kahapon (both in 1977), Aguila (1980), Kamakalawa (1981), and Hari Sa Hari, Lahi Sa Lahi (1987). In nearly all of his later works, Eddie shows his fascination for our country’s colorful past, “My interest in history is really a desire to understand what is happening now.” In the 90s, Eddie was tapped by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA) to write, direct, and produce a television series about our nation’s history.

When asked to talk about his colleagues from the ‘50s, it is quite obvious that Gerry de Leon is the one Eddie was closest to. He considers de Leon as a major influence. After all, it was de Leon who gave him his first big break as a writer and encouraged him to direct his own films. They even collaborated on some of Eddie’s American productions, “With him it was special because it was a personal relationship. It was a truthful relationship especially because we were complete opposites. ‘Yung style niya, ibang-iba sa style ko but we fed each other…Gerry de Leon was raised in the sarswela. He came from a family of sarswelistas. So his titles are very grand. ‘Yung sa akin naman, just the opposite. I was very laid back. He would always criticize me for that.”

Eddie sees one major difference from his generation of filmmakers in the ‘40s and ‘50s to the later generation, “We have a better crop of directors now than we ever did in the past because most of them studied filmmaking. In my generation, we were just flying by the seat of our pants! Starting with Lino Brocka’s generation. Chito Roño, Marilou Diaz-Abaya, Peque Gallaga, nag-aral sila lahat. Nevertheless, there were good directors during my time because they had the talent. Pero there’s nothing like formal education. It saves you from making a lot of mistakes.” Furthermore, according to Eddie, the times are also changing, “Iba na talaga ang panahon. Nagbago na ang values. Nagbago na ang pressures sa day-to-day existence. I straddle two generations. In those days, si Bert Avellana ang pinakabata. Sila Eduardo de Castro, Ramon Estella, Carlos Vander Tolosa – nabuhay sila sa panahon ng mga peasant, mga haciendero. Wala na yon. Now you have this huge diversity. Our directors today are far more disrespectful of authority which is a good thing.”

In 2003, by virtue of Proclamation No. 383, President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo declared Eddie Romero as one of the recipients of the 2003 National Artist Award (Film and Broadcast Arts). His citation reads: “Eddie Romero’s concepts are delivered in an utterly simple style – minimalist but never empty, always calculated, precise and functional, but never predicatable […] He is the quintessential Filipino filmmaker whose life is devoted to the art and commerce of cinema.”

Today, at 83 years old, Eddie Romero shows no sign of stopping, even though he would always claim that he is retired. He may be in his twilight years but his energy and his ideas are endless. His recent projects include the 2002 television series Diwa which he began developing in 1999 for the NCCA. He himself wrote the treatment for this 13-part series that traces the development of the Filipino race beginning with the Moro kingdoms of the 15th century, the Philippine Revolution of 1896, the Japanese Occupation, all the way to the First Quarter Storm of 1970. His 2007 full-length digital film Faces of Love (starring Christopher de Leon and Angel Aquino) puts him in the privileged position as the only filmmaker to straddle not just two but three important chapters in Philippine film history: the First Golden Age (1950s), the Second Golden Age (1970s-early 80s) and now the Digital Film Age.



REFERENCES

Books and Journal Articles:

Gronemeyer, Andrea. FILM: An Illustrated Historical Overview. New York: Barron’s Educational Series. 1998.

Lee, Ricardo. “1976: Isang Taon Ng Kadaldalan At Kabuluhan.” Si Tatang At Mga Himala Ng Ating Panahon. Manila: National Bookstore, Inc. 1988. 44-46.

Lumbera, Bienvenido. Revaluation 1997: Essays on Philippine Literature, Cinema, & Popular Culture. Manila: University of Santo Tomas Publishing House. 1997.

Mercado, Monina A., ed. Doña Sisang & Filipino Movies. Manila: A.R. Mercado Management, 1977.

Piano, Eduardo J. “Interview: Direk Eddie Romero.” Pelikula: A Journal of Philippine Cinema. Ed. Nicanor Tiongson. Quezon City: UP-CMC Foundation, Inc. and LRP Foundation, Inc. 2000. 44-54.

Newspaper Articles:

Tabanera, Jose P. “Eddie Romero’s Odyssey of Life.” Lifestyle Section, The Manila Times. 12 June 2003: 9

Torre, Nestor U. “Eddie Romero: National Artist.” Entertainment Section, Philippine Daily Inquirer. 27 June 2003: C7.

Online Sources:

Bengco, Regina. “National Artist Rites In Malacañang Tainted With Controversy.” Philippine Headline News Online. 26 June 2003. http://www.newsflash.org/2003

Holcomb, Mark. “Bargains In Blood.” The Village Voice Online. 8-14 January 2003. http://www.villagevoice.com/issues/0302/holcomb2.php

Eddie Romero Biography. MSN Entertainment. http://entertainment.msn.com/celebs. Presidential Proclamations. CDAsia.Com. 27 July 2003. http://www.cdasia.com.ph/pres_issue

Ibang Klase Ang Anggulo Mula Sa Itaas: Ang "Boso" at Mambobosong Pinoy sa Panahon ng Digital Revolution

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Halina't Tikman Ang "Ben's Burjer"

Ibang klase rin ang kapal ng mukha nitong si dating Comelec Chairman Benjamin Abalos. Matapos mangurakot sa ZTE deal, ngayon naman ay nagbukas ang pamilya niya ng isang hamburger joint na tinawag nilang "Ben's Burjer" (kung hindi mo alam kung bakit "burjer," eh sorry ka na lang). Nakakainsulto 'di ba? Parang pinagtatawanan niya tayo dahil mukhang nakalusot na siya sa gusot ng ZTE deal.

Bago na naman umiral ang memory gap nating mga Pinoy, narito ulit ang ilang korapsyon na kinasangkutan ni Abalos (source: http://www.gmanews.tv/):

1. Noong nasa Comelec pa siya, nadawit ang pangalan niya sa P6.5 billion Photokina deal, isang voter registration and identification system project ng Comelec noong 2002. May mga kaibigan kasi siya sa Photokina. Hanggang ngayon wala pang nangyayari sa kasong ito.

2. Habang chairman siya ng Comelec noong 2003, bumili ang Comelec ng P1.3 billion worth of computers mula sa Megapacific Consortium, isang baguhang kompanya na wala pang malinaw na track record, para sa computerization ng eleksiyon sa 2004. Dineklara ng Supreme Court na void ang kontrata sa Megapacific dahil sa iregularidad sa bidding. Kaibigan pala ni Abalos ang mga taga-Megapacific. Ngayon ay nakatambak na lang ang mga computers sa isang warehouse, binayaran gamit ang mga buwis natin pero hindi man lang natin napakinabangan. Hanggang ngayon wala pang nangyayari sa kasong ito.

3. Hello Garci. Si Abalos ang chairman ng Comelec noong nangyari ito. Golf buddy ni Abalos si Mike Arroyo. Asawa ni Mike Arroyo si Pangulong Gloria. Si Gloria ang nanalo sa eleksiyon. Connect the dots...

4. ZTE deal. Siguro naman naaalala pa ninyo ito. Milyon-milyon sana ang kickback ni Abalos at Mike Arroyo. Buti na lang at binuko sila ni Jun Lozada. Si Jun Lozada, isang bayani na unti-unti na nating nakakalimutan.

Paano pa kaya kung hahalungkatin natin pati iyong mga ginawa niya noong MMDA chair pa siya o noong mayor pa siya ng Mandaluyong? Baka kulangin ng space dito. Ganyan yata talaga 'pag ang backer mo eh si Mike Arroyo.

Transforming Propaganda Into Art

Film Review
Title: Triumph of the Will (1935)
Director: Leni Riefenstahl

“My Führer, you are Germany. When you act, the nation acts. When you judge, the people judge!” So says Rudolf Hess, Nazi Germany’s Deputy Führer, in his opening speech during the Reich Party Congress of 1934. His was also the first speech one will hear in Helene Bertha Amalie (a.k.a. Leni) Riefenstahl’s groundbreaking yet controversial documentary film Triumph of the Will. The film has been criticized as a use of spectacular filmmaking to promote a system that is widely seen as both evil and profoundly reprehensible. In her defense, Riefenstahl claimed that she was naïve about the Nazis when she made it and had no knowledge of Hitler's genocidal policies. She also pointed out that her film contains "not one single anti-semitic word," although it does contain a veiled comment by Julius Streicher that "A people that does not protect its racial purity will perish." The ideas behind the film may indeed seem despicable specially in today's context and yet no one can ever deny Riefenstahl’s brilliance in transforming a piece of propaganda into a staggering work of art.

Riefenstahl began her career as an actress before Adolf Hitler specifically chose her to be the Nazi Party’s official filmmaker. Such was Hitler’s faith in the young artist that he gave her total artistic control over the project. Triumph of the Will was even produced under her own company, Leni Riefenstahl Film Studio, and not the German Ministry of Propaganda. What Hitler envisioned was a film that would show to the German people, and the rest of Europe, the power and might of the Nazi Party and their politics of National Socialism.

To fully recognize the value of Triumph of the Will, we must again go back to John Grierson’s definition of the documentary as the “creative treatment of actuality." This can be seen in the way Riefenstahl placed the cameras especially when it comes to filming the Führer. By separating Hitler from his thousands of supporters, Riefenstahl was able to depict him as a forlorn and transcendent leader who hovers above the crowd in a plane or waives in an open-top car. This kind of composition effectively shows Hitler as a god-like leader, a mystical figure who is above everyone else and is worthy of the people’s near-religious adulation. Another example is when she places the camera below the stage, tilting up to show Hitler in one of his classic rhetoric, with the huge Nazi flag (the swastika) towering behind him. This symbolizes what Rudolf Hess said in his opening speech – that Hitler is Germany.

Riefenstahl’s use of close-ups is another effective propaganda device. By using a telephoto lens, she was able to capture emotional reactions of fanaticism from among the members of the crowd. This presents the idea that the German people look up to Hitler as the savior of Germany who will lead them into what he calls “The Thousand Year Reich." In this case, Riefenstahl used the close-ups more in an artistic style rather than for the sake of capturing the event.

Another display of Riefenstahl’s creativity is in the way she filmed the march of Hitler’s army. By using what seemed like a dozen or more cameras simultaneously, she was able to present the march using different angles. One very distinct image that stayed in my mind was the shot of the flags while the soldiers carry them as they march along, also known as the “forest of flags” scene. One cannot help but be transfixed with the sight of thousands of swastikas dominating the screen. In filming the march, Riefenstahl also used a crane to give the audience a sweeping panoramic view of the entire event.

These hundreds of shots were tied up by Riefenstahl exceptionally during editing. By masterfully combining together all the shots from different angles, she gives the soldiers’ march a very majestic look. By carefully choosing short but important parts of the speech by several Nazi officers including Hitler, she gives the film a cohesive flow. By cutting every now and then to the reactions of the people during the speeches, she avoids presenting a mere series of talking heads. In addition, her use of Wagner’s music – Hitler’s favorite as it turns out – together with the live ambient sound of the crowd, gives the film a more naturalistic feel.

Triumph of the Will is not the director's vision of the national socialist movement. It is the national socialist movement's vision of itself, as created, through the surrendered instrumentality of the film's creators. They are in essence mere technicians. Thus co-opted, the film's technicians, enthusiastically employ their talents on what National Socialism wants to program into the mind of the German film viewer. "Anyone who defends Riefenstahl's films as documentary", Susan Sontag once wrote, "if documentary is to be distinguished from propaganda, is being ingenuous. In Triumph of Will, the document (the image) is no longer simply the record of reality; 'reality' has been constructed to serve the image" That is the true propaganda nature of this film. And is at the heart of its power.

The Age of Entertainment

Film Review
Title: Aliwan Paradise (1992)
Director: Mike De Leon

In 1975, the late auteur filmmaker Lino Brocka once again placed the Philippines on the cinematic map with his film Maynila: Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag. Based on a novel by Edgardo M. Reyes, Maynila won 6 Famas Awards including Best Picture, Best Screenplay and Best Director and remains to be the only Filipino film that is consistently listed in the world’s top 100 films. Collaborating with two gifted young artists (screenwriter Doy Del Mundo and producer/cinematographer Mike De Leon), Brocka was able to produce a contemporary masterpiece unparalleled since the glory days of Lamberto Avellana and Gerardo De Leon. Seventeen years later in 1992, a year after Brocka’s untimely demise, Mike De Leon, now one of the country's most respected film master, and Doy Del Mundo resurrected the characters from Brocka’s opus with Aliwan Paradise – a film that satirizes the overwhelming influence of the entertainment media among the Filipino masses. This was released a few years before the political scene was actually flooded by showbiz personalities running for public office, chief among them Joseph Estrada.

In his essay Aliwan Paradise and the Work of Satire in the Age of Geopolitical Entertainment, Robert Silberman cites Aliwan as the most outstanding among the four films featured in the omnibus Southern Winds (the other three are from Japan, Thailand, and Indonesia) for two main reasons: first, because “it does not present a return to the rural past or traditional values as rejuvenating,” and second, because Aliwan is “reflexive and satirical and presents the vision of a rural past or moral reformation as a dream.” If I may add, among the other films, Aliwan is also the most cynical in its view of contemporary urban and country life.

As I mentioned earlier, Aliwan brings back the two main characters from Brocka’s Maynila, making it a sequel of sorts or a reworking, or, better yet, a re-imagination of the original. Aliwan’s setting is unknown, though it suggests that it is sometime in the near future. It opens with a promotional TV ad encouraging everyone to audition for the state-sponsored search for a radically new form of entertainment. Julio Madiaga (now played by Julio Diaz), down on his luck in the big city, joins the long queue of hopefuls. He accidentally runs into Ligaya Paraiso (now played by Lara Melissa De Leon), who is also there to audition. As in the first film, Julio goes to the city in search of his long-lost love Ligaya and when they finally reunite, they realize that the city has taken away their innocence. But that is where the similarity in the plot ends. Maynila is a tragedy, while Aliwan a farce.

Ligaya seduces the impresario (Johnny Delgado) and convinces him to send her abroad as a sexy singer so she could earn the much-needed dollars. Upon learning this, Julio, in front of all the judges and the impresario, begs Ligaya to come home with him to the province and start a new life together. As they embrace each other, the impresario claps his hands and declares to everyone that Julio and Ligaya’s suffering is the radically new form of entertainment they are looking for. “The agony of these two wretched creatures,” he tells the judges, “is our agony.” We next see Julio and Ligaya starring in a movie about the hardships of urban life. The impresario, now acting as a director, films them scavenging in Smokey Mountain, a garbage dump that perfectly symbolizes Third World poverty. Misery and poverty, as it turns out, are the new forms of entertainment, and the impresario is bent on exploiting that. It is this kind of farce that mocks the tragedy in Maynila. Everything in Aliwan is a fantasy, including the short scene in the countryside since it is only part of the film-within-the-film. Even the Smokey Mountain scene may use an actual site as location but is no less a cinematic construct. Julio and Ligaya are going home, but only in the make-believe world of entertainment.

Aliwan Paradise is unique not only because of its humor but also because it is the most honest in depicting, or maybe predicting, Filipino life in the years to come. At the end of the 1990s and the beginning of the 21st century, there has been a significant shift in the kind of entertainment we Filipinos watch. With programs like Wish Ko Lang and Wowowee, we have indeed come to enjoy watching misery and poverty on television. Even most of our soap operas in recent years typically revolve around the story of a poor girl who falls in love with a rich boy only to discover in the end that the poor girl is actually the daughter of a wealthy family.

Like in Aliwan, we now live in a society where the entertainment media is the strongest force that shape the way we think. It is the one telling us who we are. In that sense, Aliwan Paradise is way ahead of its time.

Ang Alamat ng Walang Kuwentang Pangulo ng Filipinas

(Tingnan n'yo naman ang mukha ni Arroyo dito? Nakakasuka! Talagang pinapalabas niya na siya ang lumulutas sa problema sa bigas at sa pagtaas ng mga pangunahing bilihin. Sinong niloko mo, Ate Glo?)

Totoo bang may krisis tayo sa bigas? Kung makikinig tayo sa sinasabi ng media, ang sagot ay "Oo." Ilang linggo nang laman ng diyaryo at TV ang tungkol sa isyung ito. Mismong si Mike Enriquez ang nagbalita nito, at dahil walang "kinikilingan" ang "imbestigador" kuno ng bayan, siguro nga ay totoo ito. Pero bago natin lunokin ang sinabi ni Mike, tayo naman ang mag-imbestiga at tingnan natin kung paano tayo nakarating sa sitwasyong ito.

Ano ba ang mainit na isyu na bukambibig nating lahat bago sabihin ng gobyerno na may rice shortage daw tayo? Hindi ba't iyong tungkol sa milyon-milyong kickback nina First Gentleman (gentleman daw?) Mike Arroyo, Benjamin Abalos, et.al. sa ZTE deal? Kaliwa't kanan ang pasasalamat natin kay Jun Lozada dahil sa walang takot niyang pagharap sa Senado para ibunyag lahat ng kawalanghiyaan nina Arroyo at Abalos. Nagkaroon ng sunod-sunod na rally sa lansangan upang muling ipanawagan ang pag-alis ni Gloria Arroyo at ng pamilya nito sa Malacañang. Hindi naman ito ang unang pagkakataon na nangyari ito. Matatandaang ilang beses na ring nadawit ang pamilya Arroyo sa iskandalo. Kung wala lang memory gap ang mga Filipino, sa Hello Garci issue pa lang ay napatalsik na sana ang pamilya Arroyo. Pero mukha yatang talagang magaling makaisip ng palusot ang PR team (a.k.a. spin doctors) ni Pangulong Arroyo.

Sa gitna ng panawagan na bumaba sa kanyang puwesto ang Pangulo, isang umaga'y biglang na lamang may nagsabi na may rice shortage daw tayo. Saan ba nanggaling ito? Hindi ba sa gobyerno? Biglang nagpa-presscon ang dating estudyante (and currently, isa sa mga tuta) ni Pangulong Arroyo na si Agriculture Secretary Arthur Yap and, with a dignified, elitist look, ay sinabi na may problema tayo sa bigas. Nagpa-uto naman ang media at dito na naka-sentro ang lahat ng kanilang binabalita. Sa isang iglap, nakalimutan natin ang ZTE at ang milyon-milyong kickback ni First Ungentleman, Abalos et.al. 'Yan ang nagagawa ng memory gap. Ang pobreng Jun Lozada - kung noon ay sinusundan ng media ang bawat galaw niya pati ang kanyang matagumpay na campus tour at photo op sa mga estudyante, ngayon ay halos limot na ng mga tao. Ngayon ay tayo naman ang humihingi ng tulong kay Pangulong Arroyo upang malutas ang problema sa bigas. Ang sagot ng Pangulo sa krisis kuno: mag-rasyon ng NFA rice! Bida na naman si Ate Glo. Tumaas na ang presyo ng mga pangunahing bilihin? Eh di magbukas ng "Bagsakan Center" kung saan mas mura lahat. Basta huwag kalilimutan ang malaking picture ni Ate Glo sa mga posters.

Balikan natin ang tanong: totoo bang may krisis tayo sa bigas? Ang sagot ay oo. Nagtaasan ang presyo ng lahat ng commercial rice. Hindi lamang bigas kundi lahat ng pangunahing bilihin. Pero huwag natin kalimutan na kagagawan din ito ni Ate Glo. Sino ba ang nagsabing mas matipid para sa gobyerno na mag-import na lang ng bigas kaysa suportahan ang lokal na agrikultura? Hindi ba't si Pangulong Arroyo din? Ang makitid na pangangatuwirang ito ay patunay lamang na wala sa agenda ng gobyernong ito ang food security. Lahat ng solusyon na ibinigay ni Pangulong Arroyo ay pawang panandalian lamang. Hindi nito malulutas ang problema. Samakatuwid, malinaw na ginagawa lamang ito ni Ate Glo upang magpa-pogi sa atin at para mapagtakpan ang kurakot na reputasyon ng kanyang pamilya. Hindi na ako magugulat kung isang araw ay bigla na lamang magdeklara ng martial law si Pangulong Arroyo para tugonan kunwari ang mga problemang kinakaharap natin (na iyon pala'y kagagawan rin niya).

Mukha yatang nakalusot na naman si Pangulong Arroyo at First Ungentleman. Kung magpapatuloy ang memory gap nating mga Filipino, magpapatuloy rin ang pananamantala ng pamilya Arroyo, Abalos, at ng mga politikong katulad nila. Umiiral na naman ang pagiging martir at gullible natin. Kailan kaya tayo muling mauuntog?

Men on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

Film Review
Title: Hable con Ella (Talk to Her, 2002)
Director: Pedro Almodovar

Hable con Ella (Talk to Her, 2002) is a movie that only Pedro Almodovar can make and get away with. The enfant terrible of Spanish cinema, Almodovar is known for his dark humor and for making films that deal with the complexities of being a woman (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, Tie Me Up Tie Me Down, All About My Mother, Volver, etc.). But on this rare occasion, Almodovar shifts his focus on the men but still in the most intricate and unexpected way. With its engaging story, superb characterization, rich cinematography, and wonderful use of music, Talk to Her may very well be Almodovar’s masterpiece.

The film opens with an intriguing dance concert, a rendition of Pina Bausch’s Café Müller. Two women dance on a stage filled with scattered chairs while a male dancer helplessly tries to clear the chairs for them. In the audience we see our two main characters sitting beside each other – Marco (Dario Grandinetti) and Benigno (Javier Cámara). Benigno notices Marco being moved to tears with the dancers’ performance. They do not know each other yet, but soon their lives will be intertwined.

On the surface the characters of the two men might seem typical, but there is more to them than meets the eye. Marco is a rugged yet handsome travel writer whose thoughts are still with his former girlfriend. Everything around him seems to remind him of her and this makes him prone to shedding tears every now and then. On the other hand, Benigno is an extremely shy and soft-spoken male nurse who never had a girlfriend. He spent all his life looking after his mother until the day she died. All of his co-workers in the hospital quickly assume that he is gay.

Marco then meets Lydia (Rosario Flores), a female bullfighter. The two fall in love even though Lydia is still recovering from a recent break-up with her boyfriend, a famous bullfighter like herself. In one bullfighting event, Lydia is seriously injured by a bull which renders her in a coma. In the hospital, Marco crosses paths once again with Benigno who is looking after another coma patient, Alicia (Leonor Watling). Alicia is a young and beautiful ballet student who is hit by a car four years earlier and has been in a coma ever since. With Marco’s frequent visits to the hospital, he and Benigno quickly become friends. Marco is fascinated with the way Benigno takes care of Alicia, the way he talks to her, bathes her, washes her hair, cuts her nails, and massages her whole body.

Through a series of flashbacks, we learn of the stories surrounding the two men. On the day of Lydia’s accident, Marco tells Lydia that he is ready to let go of his past only to find out later on that Lydia and her former lover have gotten back together. Benigno on the other hand has been obsessed with Alicia even before she was admitted to the hospital, having watched her everyday as she attends her ballet class. On the night before Marco leaves for a travel assignment, Benigno confides to Marco that he is in love with Alicia and plans to marry her. Things get complicated when the doctors discover that Alicia is pregnant and their main suspect is Benigno. The friendship of the two will be put to the test as Marco returns home to help his friend, bringing the film to its shattering climax.

Known as a woman’s director, Almodovar nevertheless proves that he can also direct men exceptionally well. In this film the men take center stage, but Almodovar paints an entirely different portrait of them. On the inside both men are effeminate, yet both find it hard to relate to women. Marco is emotionally cold and distant yet he often cries. Benigno is so shy that he falls in love with a woman who cannot physically and mentally love him in return. Clearly, these are not the very virile and macho type of men we are so used to seeing in local or even Hollywood movies. In effect, Almodovar is saying that our traditional notion of the male, and even the female, gender has changed in these modern times.

Ever the dark humorist, Almodovar displays his brilliance when Benigno tells the comatose Alicia of a silent film he recently saw, comically titled The Shrinking Lover. It is the story of a woman who invents a diet potion for her obese lover. The man drinks the yet-untested potion reducing his entire body size to that of a matchstick. On the night that they sleep together, the man enters her lover’s vagina while she’s sleeping and stays inside her forever. This utterly Freudian sequence, shot by Almodovar in black-and-white, is actually a front for what is really happening. It was on this night that Benigno raped Alicia while he is telling her the story of The Shrinking Lover.

Javier Aguirresarobe’s cinematography captures the beauty and surprising gracefulness of bullfighting. Through a series of close-ups of Lydia as she prepares for a bullfight, we see the details and the richness of the costume. In a slow motion sequence of Lydia challenging the bull, it is as if we are watching a ballet performance rather than a bullfight.

Almodovar also uses music in a masterful way, carefully choosing the songs that will comment, albeit in a very subtle way, on what the men are going through. In one moving scene, Marco and Lydia attend a concert where the band performs a very touching rendition of the Spanish song “Cucurucuccu Paloma”. As Marco hears the song, he begins to cry and walks away. The lyrics go, “How he suffered for her. Even on his deathbed he was calling for her. Oh how he sang, oh how he sighed. He was dying of mortal passion…” In Almodovar’s world, the men are what they are precisely because of their mortal passions.

Talk to Her swept almost all the major European awards the year it was released. It was also honored with two Oscar nominations – Best Screenplay and Best Director for Almodovar. What a fitting tribute to one of cinema’s most unique and thought-provoking artist.

Usapang Gen X (Part I)

Since the first decade of the new millennium is coming to a close, I decided it’s time to look back and write about my generation – the so-called Gen X (Generation X, para ‘dun sa mga may gatas pa sa labi) of the 1990s. I realize that by the next decade, say 2011, Nirvana’s groundbreaking album Nevermind (released in 1991) will be officially considered a classic, since it takes 20 years for something to be called “classic” or “old-school.” (By the way, the baby's name in the Nevermind cover is Spencer Elden. He's probably a teenager by now. It's amazing to think of the part he played in music history without ever having experienced it.) The same can be said for the Eraserheads' long lost demo tape Pop-U (made in 1991, the precursor to 1992's Ultraelectromagneticpop).

Ibig sabihin sa susunod na dekada magiging “retro fashion” na ang mga “in” noong 1990s. ‘Tangina, malapit na palang maging old-school at retro ang generation ko. Mauuso na naman kaya ang, Sperry Top-Sider, Bulldog shoes at DM’s (Doc Martens)? Eh ‘yung sobrang faded at tight na Levi’s 501 button fly jeans na naka-fold sa ibaba? Fashionista na naman ba ang lalakeng long hair (a la Steven Seagal o kinky a la Slash) at may hikaw sa magkabilang tenga? Teenagers would probably refer to the music of grunge bands like Pearl Jam and Soundgarden as classic rock. Old-school RnB na rin siguro ang Boyz II Men at siyempre old-school HipHop na si MC Hammer. Who knows, maybe the next generation of teenagers would look at the music of the Eraserheads the same way as the Apo Hiking Society? Parehong old-school, parehong pang-Standard section na lang sa Odyssey o Music One.

Anyway, going back to Gen X. People say that Gen X came from the fact that our generation is indefinable. We were living proof that the Post-Modern Age has finally reached mainstream consciousness. Almost simultaneously, all schools of thought failed. Christianity, or Catholicism (Filipinos’ concept of Christianity), has failed us. I mean, we’ve become more and more spiritually bankrupt. Our generation can still remember the mantra of corporate America in the 1980s: “greed is good,” or so Oliver Stones says in his 1986 film Wall Street. Ang resulta – globalization. ‘Di ba mas trip kainin ng mga Pinoy ang imported na SPAM kaysa Bentong Footlong? On the other hand, Communism has failed as well with the collapse of the Berlin Wall. Idol ko pa naman si Karl Marx at Mao Zedong. Pero ispatan mo ang Russia at China ngayon, free market economy na sila. Pati ‘yung mga naging presidente natin noong 1990s, mula kay Cory Aquino, Fidel Ramos hanggang kay Erap Estrada, eh wala namang nagawang matino. Jovito Salonga and Raul Roco could have been 2 of our greatest presidents after Cory but, unfortunately, majority of our countrymen chose a former martial law enforcer and coup plotter (Ramos) and a former movie actor (and if I may add, a terrible one at that) and perpetual womanizer and alcoholic (Estrada). Pati si Bill Clinton, na akala ng marami sa Amerika ay kasing husay ni John F. Kennedy, ay nakipag-sex sa intern niyang si Monica Lewinsky sa loob ng oval office, with matching props na tabako.

What I’m saying here is that we belong to a generation with no real heroes to look up to. After going through a very idealistic and anti-establishment period in the 1960s, our parents in their middle age became the very people they hated and fought with when they were young. As for us, the children of the Baby Boomers, we had no role models to emulate. Instead of trying to be like our parents, we turned to Kurt Cobain, Eddie Vedder, Bono, Kim Gordon, Courtney Love, Alanis Morissette, even Madonna and Axl Rose. At siyempre kay Ely Buendia, Dong Abay, Cooky Chua, Myra Ruaro, Basti Artadi, Rico Blanco, Chito Miranda at ang walang kamatayang si Pepe Smith. They became our heroes because they felt what we felt. We grew up with them and we understood each other. They became our voice. When Bono sang, “We’re one but we’re not the same. We got to carry each other,” we all wanted to live in that kind of world. When Alanis Morissette sang, "It was a slap in the face. How quickly I was replaced and are you thinking of me when you fuck her?," every woman of my generation felt her pain. At ‘taga-ibang planeta ka na lang siguro kapag hindi mo memorize ang lyrics ng Pare Ko. Lahat ng lalakeng sawi sa pag-ibig eh siguradong kinanta (o sinigaw) at one point in his life ang “Oh, Diyos ko, ano ba naman ito? ‘Di ba, ‘tangina. Nagmukha akong tanga. Pinaasa niya lang ako, letseng pag-ibig ‘to!” habang tumutungga ng either of the following: gin pomelo, Tanduay Rum ESQ, gin bulag, or your basic San Miguel beer.

OR… Is it possible that Gen X, like any other label for any generation, is actually a marketing tool in order to sell Levi’s, DM’s, Sperry Top-Siders, Coke, Pepsi, political correctness, Grunge Rock, Alternative Rock, etc? Similar to what they’re doing now with American Idol and Pinoy Big Brother Teen Edition. I guess the answer is yes. But nevertheless, I love my generation. I love the 90s. Our generation gave birth to the Internet and digital technology, to Kurt Cobain and Sonic Youth and Ely Buendia. We were the first to put environmental and ecological issues to the mainstream. The same goes for gay and lesbian issues. Like our parents in the 1960s, we were a generation of romantics who tried, and are still trying, our best to change the world.

As we enter our mid-30s, let’s just hope we don’t end up like our predecessors. After all, we now know that greed is NOT good.

Memories of Creation

Film Review
Title: Orbit 50
Director: Kidlat Tahimik

It is in the last part of his narration in the short film Orbit 50 (1992) that Kidlat Tahimik summarizes his life, “When I look back on all my films I can proudly say that I was a father first, and then a filmmaker.” Orbit 50 is Kidlat’s way of celebrating his 50th birthday, or, in his trademark humor, his 50th orbit around the sun. This fourth film of his marks his first foray into the medium of video – albeit analog – almost a decade before digital video made it easy for independent filmmakers to shoot their own personal films. While his previous films focus more on his politics and his search for the Filipino identity amidst Western hegemony, Orbit 50 is more personal and introspective. It also serves as a love letter to his three sons: Kidlat Sr., Kawayan, and Kabunyan. In the film, Kidlat addresses each of his son, sharing words of wisdom that he hopes would prove useful as they grow up.

If my introduction sounds too sentimental, let us not forget that I am writing about Kidlat Tahimik, probably the most radical filmmaker in Philippine cinema. His movies always defy our conventional notion of filmic narrative, often threading the line between documentary and experimental fiction. It can be said that Kidlat’s films all deal with memories of creation and destruction. Or as the critic E. San Juan, Jr. puts it, “They embody historical recollections of the past accompanied by a critical inventory of what is important and meaningful to be saved for the future.” Orbit 50 still shows the revisionist avant-garde style that the filmmaker is known for, but in a more gentle and reflective manner.

The film opens abruptly, with neither the usual opening credits nor even the appearance of the film’s title. After a series of rambling images showing rainfall, we hear Kidlat’s voice-over saying, “In a few more days, I will begin my 50th orbit around the sun.” He then begins his letter to his eldest son, Kidlat, “Dear Kidlat. Remember, your father was named after you […] You are the original Kidlat and your father is Kidlat Jr. […] Try to discover that cosmic dynamo throbbing within your name.” For his second son, Kawayan, who is about to go away and study at the Philippine High School for the Arts, he says, “Whatever they teach you, don’t forget to work with the quiet strength of bamboo.” Finally, for his youngest son, Kabunyan, Kidlat muses, “Dear Kabunyan, sometimes as an artist I take my filming seriously and I fail to hear your funny stories […] Your drawings point to me the lightness of spirit many artists have lost.”

The images in the film are mostly home video footage of his children shot by Kidlat over the years. While shot and edited in his usual crude manner, the presence of this home movies give the film a very personal feeling. Even the content of his poorly and unevenly recorded voice-over narration (another Kidlat Tahimik trademark) about his sons reveal a very loving, caring, and thoughtful father. In what for me is the most touching moment of the film, Kidlat asks his youngest son Kabunyan (who is probably around 10-12 years old at the time) to operate the video camera. Kidlat then stands in front of the camera and starts reminding Kabunyan that Kabunyan should love his art and that his work should always reflect his being Filipino.

Orbit 50 clearly shows that Kidlat Tahimik has successfully established himself as a filmmaker working away from the mainstream movie industry. Unlike the people working in the industry, Kidlat reminds us that there is more to life than just your work. He reminds us that an artist’s greatest masterpiece is not a piece of wonderful painting or a brilliant film; it is in how the artist nurtures the ties that bind his family together.

Hello Garci, O Kung Paano Nakipagtalik si Ate Glo kay Garci

(Here is an old article I wrote about the Hello Garci scandal. In light of the ZTE scandal and the countless scandals involving the First Family, I think we should always be reminded that the present occupant in Malacañang is, in the words of Conrado de Quiros, a squatter.)

Ang sex ay madalas nag-uumpisa sa lambingan. Kasama dito ang palitan ng mga matatamis at makahulugang salita. Ang paggamit ng ganitong uri ng pananalita ay mabisang sandata sa pagpapa-init ng imahinasyon ng sinumang kausap mo. Ito ang unang hakbang sa foreplay, na kung ikaw ay susuwertehin, ay mauuwi sa sex. Lalake ka man o babae, dapat kaya mong lambingan ang iyong pananalita upang hindi ka umuwing talunan.

Ganito ang maaari nating gawing pagbasa sa pagbati ni Pangulong Gloria Arroyo kay Comelec Commissioner Virgilio Garciliano nang tawagan niya ito sa telepono habang abala sa pagbibilang ang Comelec noong eleksiyon ng 2004. Dalawang salita lang ang ginamit ni Arroyo: “Hello, Garci.” Kung babasahin natin ito bilang texto, puwede nating sabihin na ito’y isang uri ng foreplay na mauuwi sa pagtatalik.

“All pleasure is ultimately sexual pleasure,” ayon kay Sigmund Freud. Suriin natin kung paano sinabi ni Arroyo ang mga salitang Hello, Garci. Kung pakikinggan itong mabuti, ito’y punong-puno ng paglalambing, na tulad nga ng nabanggit ko ay isang uri ng foreplay. Dagdag pa dito ang paggamit ni Arroyo ng “Garci” na siyang term of endearment kay Garciliano ng mga taong malapit sa kanya. Samakatuwid, malinaw na intimeyt ang pagkakakilala nila sa isa’t-isa. Malalim na ang kanilang pinagsamahan. Importante rin ang ginampanan ng paggamit ni Arroyo ng “celphone” upang makipag-usap (o makipaglambingan) kay Garciliano. Ang “celphone” ay maaaring tingnan bilang isang “phallic symbol” na kung saan kailangang idikit ni Arroyo ang kanyang bibig upang marinig ni Garciliano sa kabilang linya ang kanyang matamis na pagbati ng “Hello, Garci.”

Ngunit bakit ganoon na lang kalambing ang pagbati ni Arroyo kay Garciliano? Ito’y sapagkat may nais makuha si Arroyo kay Garciliano: ang pagkapanalo niya bilang presidente. Ang pagkapanalong ito ang magbibigay kay Arroyo ng “pleasure” na maaaring katumbas ng isang “orgasm.” Kilala si Arroyo bilang isang “hands-on manager” at madalas ay siya mismo ang personal na tumatawag sa mga opisyal ng kanyang pamahalaan upang siguraduhing tama ang pagkakaintindi nila sa kanyang mga direktiba. Ibig sabihin ay nakakakuha siya ng “pleasure” sa kaalamang nasusunod ang kanyang gusto. Ganito ang ginawa niya kay Garciliano. Natapos ang bilangan at tuluyan nang naiproklama ang pagkapanalo ni Arroyo. Si Arroyo ba talaga ang nanalo? Malinaw na hindi. Ang “pakikipagtalik” ni Arroyo kay Garciliano ay hindi lang kataksilan sa kanyang asawang si Jose Pidal ngunit kataksilan rin sa sambayanang Pilipino.

Lalo tuloy nalugmok sa paghihikahos ang kawawang si Juan de la Cruz. ‘Ika nga ni Francisco Balagtas, “Sa loob at labas ng bayan kong sawi, kaliluha’y siyang nangyayaring hari.”