Contagia

It wasn’t my plan to see Contagion when it screened in Manila because it looked like a highbrow-fest what with all the Academy Award winners and losers in it. I watch the occasional Oscary films but I don’t feel like watching those since I’m kind of not wanting to engage in too much brain activity lately. But a friend badmouthed the film and went to great lengths trying to strip the movie of any worth. Great lengths being an FB group message warning of its garbageness. Then he sort of launched an anti-Contagion campaign as if the movie isn’t such a huge flop enough and posted a flat out ‘Contagion sucks’ post of sort which though I wasn’t designated protector of the Steven Soderbergh filmography I thought was a bit much.

What’s striking was not that someone would express dismay over a seemingly difficult movie; it’s that the person expressing it is someone who I know is a fan of highly intellectual things, who would argue with anyone about politics, religion, sex, art, film, underwear, literature, etc. So the friend, who I’m mostly okay with – ok as in outside of our circle we don’t care enough about each other to ask about how each other’s families are doing, etc, so you know this is certainly not personal – raped Contagion in front of a relatively sizeable Facebook crowd (and where else can a larger crowd be had? Where else can a captive audience be easier to snatch) and that is all the reason I needed to want to see the film for myself. I saw it not because I felt strongly for Steven Soderbergh’s works but because sometimes truly awful word-of-mouth is irresistible.

I know that no one takes my takes on social networking behaviour seriously and the only person who thinks I’m such an expert on psychology is myself but the criticism ambience is becoming alarming. There are people who don’t care for critics, people who even think critics are funny (whatever that means), and then there are the critic-dependents who wouldn’t watch a film unless it’s rated with a 65%+ freshness in Rottentomatoes.com.

Contagion is the perfect film with which to observe people’s behaviors towards criticism, says the expert. People who could think for themselves naturally do not subscribe to critics’ opinions to form their own but there always will be the ‘thinkers’, the supposed intelligent ones who would purposely shun sorta brainy stuff just to show how certain widely perceived culturati things are beneath them.What it could be is a ploy to monopolize and keep all discussions of intellectual merit to those which these same people (ie aforementioned friend) find worthy. Or maybe Steven Soderbergh molested friend’s (and similar people’s) puppies in their youth and/or their drug addict sensibilities were seriously scarred by the Soderbergh film, Traffic. Just wild-guessing!

To illustrate, suppose you’re a smartypant and a film like Inception is showing and people are actively campaigning for its greatness and enjoyability. You  will shut it out of your life and maybe throw in a nasty comment or two about its great potential to bore, and then express your own preference for lowbrow flicks like Hot Chicks, and feel good about yourself. That sucks! If you think you’ve got such a hot pair of brains, you will not let your bias affect your right to enjoy a truly remarkably made Christopher Nolan film, or in this case, a good Soderbergh film. But for the record I didn’t care for Inception too because it was so boring. What makes me special is that I hated Inception because it was so boring and I have extremely high tolerance for boring. And unlike Inception, Contagion is really not pa-intellectual. That’s just his style! It scatters details and characters in a way that can be alienating but everything is so urgent and focused, you don’t forget for a moment that you’re watching a film about an illness. And it’s called ‘Contagion’.

To make a point I could have gone on living without saying, I could say that contrary to his opinion, Contagion is quite good. But point or no point, the movie is not worthy of a peer pressure-motivated censorship. I also like very much the music and the dryness of it, and the terrificality of the acting. I liked Gwyneth, Matt Damon, Kate Winslet, Jennifer Ehle and Marion Cotillard, and I like the dry, sandpapery look of it. See, it has a market! In the old days, as in around 3 months ago, I would have attempted to do a review thingy of it, probably, but considering how inept I actually am at doing that, I reduce my thoughts on films and things in the most uncriticy way because already, my eyes have been opened and I now realize how ignorant I appear every time I try to opine on something I don’t fully understand and appreciate.

But, whatever! Someone spreading contagious remarks about Contagion is delicious. Har! Maybe the friend is just aiming for a punch line. He is probably waiting for someone to challenge his probable perception of the film’s ending as a kind of a ridiculous surprise. Maybe he hates Steven Soderbergh. He’s free to hate. The trouble with this particular hate is that if people take heed and ignore Contagion, they will never experience its alleged awfulness by themselves. The admonition to not consume something is detrimental to everyone’s right to criticize. Criticism is fine. It’s fun. It’s just not for everyone.

Family Movie (Bisperas, Jeffrey Jeturian)

Bisperas takes place during Christmas Eve, a time when people are at their most materialistic and greedy and needy. The Aguinaldo family has just been burglarized and the sense of danger that the crooks are still lurking is so effectively set up, you fear for the life of the father (Tirso Cruz III) as he walks through the dim, just-robbed home, and it took all your will not to scream, if and when the burglar jumps out. Conveniently appearing golf club aside, that scene was effectively horror-filled, if horror were ever the intent. After the scare, the father calls everyone in to safety and what the foolish family goes to check first are the most inconsequential things: a Macbook, a land title, and a cellphone. The robber has wreaked unrest within this affluent, thoroughly riches and material wealth-caring family and it’s not for reasons that have to do with their safety. Bisperas is not a thriller after all.

The film smells faintly of anti-Catholic propaganda. It drops obvious hints of anti-Catholic sentiments judging from the random bits of inconsequential, venial sins exhibited by the evidently devout Catholics who participate in ceremonial Catholic things observed during Christmas. But then the sins are too venial to create a lasting, heavy impression. Highly doubtful that if it were about that, the really fat guy buying ten puto bumbongs for himself, the woman screaming mean things to random fatties, the hunky baby daddy checking out a street skank, and the policemen dicking around for PX goods, would hardly serve as instruments of judgment. Taken collectively, the point is well made. It’s nice if it actually wasn’t trying to pass judgment although it most certainly is. If it were trying to say that Catholics or any organized religion’s most devout followers all converge in one church, receive the same body of Christ, it doesn’t provide many clues. The knocked down Catholic figurines might be saying something. But just maybe. It could be a super subtle symbolic symbolism that robbers’ knocking them over is the faith that should and ought to be… knocked over. See also the ‘God Bless Our Home’ decor hanging at the door.

What it’s not about is the exploration of a confused young man’s sexuality although it isn’t so far out a subject for such a film to broach, being an Indie-mindie film shot in the predictable shaky, handheld style that is the turf of gay, Sexuality Exploration films. Just when you think it’s about to go that route, it completely abandons it. The film’s gay is thankfully not raging inside himself about how Awful It Is To Be In This Gay Situation. Rather, the gay is beside himself with the loss of an Ateneo jacket. How very refreshing.

What it also is not is a comedy although a lot of it is very funny, although mostly, it is a cringefest. I see too much of my own family that I often got confused whether a laugh is more appropriate or a tear.

I see myself in both Mio (Edgar Allan Guzman) and Ara (Julia Clarete). I have no trouble identifying with the porn stash-hiding and the hysterics-throwing antics of the two and some of their conversations (‘Putang-INA mo!’ ‘Pareho lang tayo ng ina!’) were had by me and my loving family. Doing superb impersonation of me is Julia Clarete who articulates every word of profanity and spite with relish, rolling every ‘Puta’ and ‘Etong magaling nyong anak!’s super naturally. Edgar Allan Guzman does equally natural performance as the recipient of Ara’s poison. Raquel Villavicencio, the distraught mother, keeps the quiet moments as tension-filled as she does the inevitable, but still cringe-resistant confrontation-at-the-dinner-table scene whereupon she sets off her nursed rage through the smashing of a salad bowl, while the erring father sets off  his own at the unkind words and accusations of the self-righteous daughter.

The film’s hyper realistic portrayal of a Filipino family makes it an easy target for being called a patience-tester. It’s so realistic it makes other Filipino family dramas look like cartoons and/or exaggerated recreations of families created by people who have never known a family issue in their lives. It’s the kind of family movie that does not attempt to nicely patch things up in the end because some family issues are for life. Bisperas could have done more with its tiny, seemingly insignificant characters, but after being subjected to the Aguinaldos’ gamut of issues, five people, one family, seemed enough. As a piece of entertainment, it is a bit of a struggle to enjoy but as a reflection of the typical family in a familiar society, intent on not being easy, in its quiet, tense nature, was it most affecting and effective.

Temptation Island and the people responsible for its potential for greatness/ruin

I live for queer, silly pieces of entertainment such as Temptation Island. I’m also a Chris Martinez fan and I truly like his film things. I don’t care what he makes; as long as it’s sold in the mall, I will buy ticket and swallow it up like a good boy. As much as I want to analyze to death the New Chris Martinez Movie, I have very little opinion of it, but I will never pass up an opportunity to talk about Marian Rivera, in however nice a light I have to put her in, or Aljur Abrenica’s existence in the world of showbiz.

1. Heart Evangelista –I read up on the pre-release bits and found out that she was supposed to play Lovi Poe’s character, which, after seeing this, neither intrigues nor annoys me. Every time Heart is on screen, I first admire her face then proceed at guffawing inside myself about superstarmarian’s imaginary beef with her, which for me is so much more exciting and funnier than anything she (Heart) does here, except for that fleeting moment in the stick-fight scene, which isn’t memorable because of her either. Heart is very pretty but she’s incapable of being remarkable. Who should have taken her place is Angelica Panganiban. Because of the ABS-CBN GMA 7 war, we lost the chance to see some more of that fully developed, virginal/loudmouth Angelica does so well.
2. Solenn Heusaff – Model-turned-actors really tell you about the state of the local showbiz scene. It’s for whoever’s responsible for these celebrity-imports’ casting in wrong roles that we keep hearing awkward foreigner accent spoken by mannequins (hello, Sam Milby, Akihiro, Anne Curtis and friends!) in average Pedro roles.
3. Marian Rivera – is one of the most irritating personalities in existence today. I find her really, really annoying, but her talent is undeniable. She’s one of the better performers here but that’s mostly because she’s playing the Chris Martinez Temptation Island remake version of herself so there was just no way she’s going to come off as phony. She was very much in character. I experience really profound internal conflict as I laugh at her performance, and the ability to elicit laughter when doing comedy is very good indication of effective, even great acting. She puts her inner palengkera to good use. But it’s best to appreciate her loud persona with caution since we don’t want to give her the notion that it’s a good idea to be loud all the time.
4. Tom Rodriguez – looks great in red briefs. He should have stayed in them for the duration of the film so all of us stay happy. But this is a not-that-raunchy sort of sexy comedy and SM won’t screen R-rated films with guys perpetually in red briefs in them, blah, blah, blah. Inside those red briefs, lie huge talent. It’s too bad MTRCB exists.
5. Aljur Abrenica – is such a terrible actor. He is such a terrible actor. He is. Dear GMA 7, why do you keep casting him in very prominent roles? His character is supposed to be an intellectual-dork-hunk who occasionally speaks English, the kind that Sam Milby can do in his sleep. This is a silly movie about silliness but Aljur’s character doesn’t make any sense. I know that this is based from a campy movie and it’s supposed to be super silly so I’m not sure if they cast him because he does great job as an englishero-sosyal person precisely because he can’t do a credible englishero-sosyal and that’s supposed to be the joke and I just didn’t get it, or he’s cast in the role because GMA Films produced the film and he has to meet a quota before they (hopefully) kick him out of their talent pool. But this being a remake of an ‘unintentionally funny’ film, every joke pulled is intentional and obvious. Perhaps, the performance is unintentionally genius and the joke is on us, and Aljur knew that the essence of his character is in the inside-jokey nature of the film. But who are we kidding. Which is it, GMA? Either way, I still think he is a lousy actor. Even in TV, he is as expressionless and as personality-free as a statue. Aljur Abrenica just can’t make anything out of that no talent face and voice of his. It’s for people like Aljur that theatre people think they’re so oppressed by the local entertainment system, whatever that is. ‘If untalented people like Aljur Abrenica are getting prestigious Tuna product endorsement deals, how come we are still being paid in cat food?‘
6. Rufa Mae Quinto – could have been replaced by Eugene Domingo in my version of the movie, but she’s fine. She was very much in her Rufa Mae self in a yaya role to Lovi Poe’s bitch, doing Rufa Maey things that are weird and funny. Whatever she does and says is funny. She’s a happy-making actress through and through. She should stretch her talent some more, though, and play a smaller-boobed bobita bombshell in her next film or do a less shrill vixen, maybe. The four girls awarding her with an imaginary Miss Manila Sunshine crown is one of the truest and charming moments of the film. She almost owned the movie. Rufa Mae’s eyebrows or boobs convey more feelings than the whole of Aljur Abrenica.
7. Lovi Poe – could have been replaced with Alessandra De Rossi in my version of the movie, but I still sort of adored her among all girls. I don’t know what it is in her acting but something about her prompted me to make a mental note to pursue her other stuff. You know how when you’re gay and you meet a girl and you automatically develop a fondness for her because she seems like she’d make a good hag, and you want to become really good friends with her, in probably the same way that a straight guy would want to bang the exact same girl? Lovi Poe exudes that aura so much.
8. Mikael Daez – plays up the ‘Joswa’ joke one time too many and relied on that throughout. He is able to put on a really intense expression when ordered to do so but he doesn’t show briefs, not even a garter-glimpse, so you have to look at his Albrenica-like depth.
9. John Lapuz – wishes to tell every gay actor in the Philippine film industry to go fuck themselves because for as long as he’s working (and work hard he does), no minor gay role will be filled by anyone else except him. That said, he does good work here, doing John Lapuzy stuff to his John Lapuzy character which you know Vice Ganda is shaking his fist in frustration, wishing the role had been his. All nastiness aside, I think John Lapuz, if given the opportunity to stretch, will stretch.  He was terrific in Here Comes the Bride. He is an exciting actor; you’ll never know when he’s going to turn up a great performance and when he’s going to do his typical hysterical parlorista schtick.
10. Big Film Studio people. In a perfect world, our local film industry will not depend on the dubious studio system. Cristy Fermin says it best: ‘Maliit lang ang industriya’, which is why depending on a studio’s exclusive and restrictive pool of talents is such a recipe for ugly movie-making with major participation of such dubious talents as Aljur Abrenica. If our film people had to depend less in the Kapuso/Kapamailya actors, the local film world will be a much better place.
    

3 Idiots

3 Idiots is a movie I would not have bothered with had a film like Slumdog Millionaire never won an Oscar. I would have only ever attempted to see World Cinema such as it (3 Idiots) if equally entertaining English speaking movies cease to be available to humankind. Never fancied Indian cinema so much; never had, never will. But 3 Idiots’ silly morality play worked for me somehow, as in I eventually found it’s initially annoying and simplistic ideas too appealing to dismiss and be indifferent about. At almost 3 hours, there’s plenty of time to actively hate it for various, often personal reasons, including its inherent weirdness, and the many, many times all three lead guys had to weep in moments where terrific revelation of great dramatic tensions, of which there are a lot, are ushered in by sweeping, overbearing, dramatic musical score. It was just really too much crying for 3 guys in one film. The titular 3 idiots aren’t actually idiots but drama queens.

Also, I don’t very much adore precociousness so the Ranchoddas “Rancho” Shamaldas Chanchad character, with his constant wiseassery have had to reach a tolerance apex. And it reached mine so hard. Although Ahmir Khan is too great to invest that much annoyance on. But I was won over because in spite of the plenty, corny follow-your-dream-while-in-college oversentimentalization, I find it hard to resist the fantasy lives it presents: mainly, the choose the right path Life Lessons, the idealization of the unorthodox approach to studying and learning, the Take A Chance On Life preachery, etc, etc. Its ‘pursue an engineering course and ruin your life forever’ twist is obnoxious in its simplicity but within that statement is a truth that movies with ridiculous but sometimes cute dancing one is not supposed to take from, at least not too seriously. Because it’s a Bollywood film! But every time I stare at an alienating Income Statement or Balance Sheet for an indifferent and totally filthy rich company, and find myself groping for a right equation, I remember 3 Idiots because it was right! People should really not take engineering and other difficult, soul-sucking courses, because if you do, you will stare at an alienating Income Statement for an indifferent and totally filthy rich company, and find yourself groping for a right equation, possibly for all eternity. Scary!

Glitterific

I’m secretly fascinated by Christina Aguilera. She’s the kind of putrid I can’t take my eyes off of. I am both amazed and annoyed by her huge voice. But more annoyed than amazed. What is said of her penchant for big, showy belting, that she’s doing it to impress not express, I wholeheartedly agree. The fascination is due to the most obvious fact of all time: Christina Aguilera’s career trajectory is a drag queen impersonation of Mariah Carey’s. Guess which singer had the same criticism about her huge voice being all about impressing than expressing? That’s right, it’s not Britney.

But Christina fails so constantly and I almost feel sorry for her. Burlesque was her shot at making the expensive, explosive bomb of her career and she nixed it with a decent but still unremarkable performance. She had the benefit of precedents for pop star movie disasterpiece: Madonna’s Swept Away, Britney’s Crossroads, and the one and only Glitter, which should explain why she turned out okay in this. And through no fault of her own, she was backed by interesting supporting actors to anchor what should have been the Christina Aguilera addition to the Big Fat Flop cannon. It shatters me even that Express is so much better sounding than Loverboy could ever hope to be.

You can smell the desperation of some critics to declare this movie as the second coming of Glitter or Showgirls, two movies which should be offended for being associated with this limp dick. Burlesque just isn’t bad enough. It’s very trashy but also highly enjoyable. I find it difficult to find fault in a movie that has about 8 Cell Block Tangos in it. The Express number alone is worthy of the price of admission. Kirsten Bell in a bitcherrific role who gets to speak the movie’s outstanding contribution to film bitchery, ‘I will not be upstaged by a bitch with mutant lungs!’ is just a bonus. For lack of a Rob Marshall dance flick to satiate my basest desire for movie musicals, Burlesque comes as a gift from baby Jesus.

That Glitter was a huge flop is a distinction I’m actually fine with because its alleged awfulness at least had character. It flopped tremendously and so it belonged to history. It will not be forgotten. Christina and Burlesque is sadly not of the caliber of the Truly Awful which is a pity. She could have had her very own Glitter but she failed by doing just fine. She didn’t even get a Razzie nomination. She failed to fail spectacularly but at least she failed with Cher.

The Mariah parallel is really not so bad. Look no further than the bestsellingest album of 2005 for proof that great artists can transcend Glittery career setbacks. Christina Aquilera is a good singer. She’s one of the most beltingest hence one of the most well regarded singers, and if she is seriously devoted to following the footsteps of her most obvious predecessor, she will make her own The Emancipation of Mimi. And if she’s really, really serious, she will find her own Lee Daniels and make him cast her in a dowdy social worker role, and star in her own Precious. She may not get an Oscar nomination for it but it will get her back on track. But the way things are going, she will probably star in a comedy with Adam Sandler and do okay and that will be it. She has a way of watering down things to her disadvantage. She is half-assed through and through. But I won’t lose hope just yet. There’s a tiny part of me that roots for the lately underdogging Christina. She long ago launched an alter ego – Xtina. She’s getting there. But in terms of on-screen persona (alleged) awfulness, Ali is no Billie.

Anti-Social Network

The Social Network tells me again why I feel/nurse contempt for intelligent and successful people, especially those who really deserve their success, and I’m not sure why. Erica Albright, Mark Zuckerberg’s ex-’girlfriend’, has the best things to say to Zuckerberg which is best summed up by the basic Suck it, geek. She’s the voice of reason.

I usually have predictable reactions to things that are supposed to provoke or say something about things I feel something for and a movie about Facebook is naturally not an exception because I have feelings for it, mostly ill will and a see-sawing love-hate sentiment. One such reaction would be revulsion to the idea that people are very much into something as corrupt and manipulative as FB. Here is this movie, trying to tell us that we are Mark Zuckerberg’s sheep that he has effortlessly been shepherding into a life of inactivity, subjecting us to an all-consuming leisure, and not a significant number of us think to quit it. It could also be trying to say that Zuckerberg truly deserves the billions, for he, too, is just like us, and geniuses like him are perfect magnifications of the belief that people who are smart and cunning are the ones most likely to become billionaires no matter how sarcastic, plastic and morally bankrupt they are. After all, it shows how easily he’s beaten his former partners and would have been business associates, Eduardo Saverin and the beautiful Winklevoss twin in the battle for billions. It gets the idea of greed and cunning so precisely and with such perfect soundtrack.

What triumphs though is the idea that Facebook is a product of a devious mind the powers of which are felt the world over. Someone says in the film, perhaps meant as a joke, that even Indonesia or some such less progressive country, has Facebook, which of course doesn’t make sense as a joke since Indonesia is fine, it’s a country that wouldn’t look like they’d treat Facebook as a disease or A Product of the West. The Earth is already past caring. So strong and so alluring is Facebook’s charisma that attempts to get out of it by people who may have had ‘I will quit FB’ reactions to the film may as well have been saying equally false pronouncements as ‘I will lessen my Facebook face time as a form of protest’. There is simply no quitting it.

People who never felt compelled to join Facebook, those who never thought to be herded into any social networking site, those who even go so far as to vow not to watch the film because they’re not into Facebook (which is like saying I won’t watch disaster films because I’m not into disasters), however, will be even harder to coerce to shift dispositions, ie sign up for it, thanks to Jesse Eisenberg’s hateful geek portrayal of Zuckerberg. But the rest will remain in its stead because such is the power of our intellectual superiors that we gladly consume products of their greed and contempt. Actually look no further than in our very own country where the intellectuals, the cum laudes, and the many-medalled graduates of our top schools are leading us into our early graves (I yearned for so long to say this I just didn’t have the proper context!). Obviously not every single intelligent person is responsible for the world’s ills, obviously. In the case of the work productivity-reducing, social interaction bastardizing force of nature that is Facebook, it only took one mind, maybe along with three or four others, but just only one that altered the way we make people rich nowadays. Henry Sy, Imelda Marcos, Tim Yap and friends, say hello to your North American counterpart. Thanks to the Social Network, I feel like there’s finally an explanation for the intelligent/successful people-contempt I’ve been harboring.

Delicious-smelling, oven-baked suicidal’s head is funny

The comedy is everywhere but it hits a high when the boys are trading barbs, lifting barbells, making riddles, making up names for each other, when 2 boys shout obscenities at each other while working out, when Kornspan says to Freer things like the barbell raped his sister and killed his mother.

Probably the best way to enjoy this is this. Don’t trouble yourself with the narrative because great passages are scattered and when you get to them, you momentarily do not mind the Incandenzas. Tiny Ewell’s fascination for tattooed patients is a fun section. You take the fun where you can get them.

And then the lessons. The really amazing part where he gets preachy and wise. That somewhere in here, all you needed to know about some things are really like that, just how he says it is. That you do not have to like a person in order to learn from him/her/it. That loneliness is not a function of solitude. Things like these.

In the realm of cute, witty siblings in movies and books, there are a few that are so cute and unforgettable among which are made by people whose works I tend to like and look out for: the Glasses, the Tenenbaums and the Incandenzas just now. Some fictional siblings are too cute to be true, chief of which are the aforementioned, but it’s not hard to imagine that people who make them are not so eager to create middle-class, surfacely boring brothers and sisters since these tend to not be like super smart, super goodlooking and super good in tennis and chemistry, hence boring. But wait til you read about the Lisbons because you will surely ‘Incandenza who?’.

In the Darjeeling Limited, I’m amazed again by Wes Anderson’s ensemble which was unsurprisingly greatly aided by the so good when she’s playing this type of role of the stern mother Angelica Huston. Some of the things he does to the characters are almost always looking like like they were employed to achieve some comic effect but the kids in the family in his movies tend to always appear to have that quality among the kids, disdain, distrust, love and aloofness. I will concede that Wes Anderson and company are not the only masters of sibling relationships, that they’re not the only ones who’re so great at making brothers look funny and authentic but the Darjeeling Limited has Adrien Brody whose chest looked fine, whose cheekbones are divine.

Achieved

There’s a gag in 100 where Eugene Dominggo and the dying Mylene Dizon was having an Ate Vi movie marathon, being one of the 100-something things the best friends would do before Mylene dies. Someday, there would be a film, a comedy maybe, that would have the same gag, a remake of 100 why not, that would have the characters do a Eugene Dominggo movie marathon which will definitely include her latest, the Chris Martinez-written and directed Here Comes the Bride. Bride will be special and memorable because in one of those surprising and pleasant instances of scene stealership, somebody in the same film as Eugene D gets to steal the show and this one time, it’s Angelica Panganiban, who does one of the funniest, most convincing babaeng bakla roles ever.

In the 90s a daring acting career move would involve shedding a starlet’s clothes off for major Seiko Films/OctoArts film project. Seiko Films don’t do films now, sadly, which meant that starlets now only have FHM as a means to announce their Daring Career Move. It’s much different though for smarter artistas, Angelica Panganiban being one of those smart ones. In the film, she’s daring alright but not in the way that Abby Viduya was when she did major vaginal flashing in Sutla. Angelica Panganiban did a lighter version of that sort of role in Santa Santita where she did a much ballyhooed, major torrid smoochfest with Jericho Rosales. And that was mostly it. In Here, she’s still ‘daring’ and so game, she uses her assets to great comedic effect, unafraid to make fun of herself as as she should. Her gayspeak is so flawless and so natural. What makes her so special  I think is that she’s always been a careful articulator of words, something the likes of Kim Chiu would maybe want to learn. She’s not too mannered a performer that when she says spluk, epek, wit and aura, immortal entries in the gay webster, it’s never hindered by self-consciousness, that they might come off too exaggerated because aren’t gays who speak these always exaggerated. And if her TV show Rubi is any indication, Angelica has an all natural fag hag aura. Not that that’s effortless (maybe it is) but she’s always been the type of performer who examines her roles that certain tics and mannerisms never seem phoned in.

But it’s not just The Angelica Panganiban Show. Eugene is stellar as usual. Her spastic attorney is too broad to be really funny but that’s never been a detriment to what she can do to make any role laugh out loud funny. The bonggang-bonggang bougainvillea and scramble is yummy scenes are enough to meet her funny quota but her top billage in this assures she gets to do more, the major one being those parts where she does the pa-girl bride to be whose softiness fits well with her as usual unmatched comedic gift, one that lets her pull off any character, that lets her switch seamlessly from being a spaz to a softy. In a thankfully restrained role, John Lapus is able to throw in a performance that never for a moment seemed cartoonish, having to do a dirty old man role, something that is a stretch for his usually shrill gay roles. The veteran Jaime Fabregas, who you always see as a weak, rich old man, puts a twist on the sickly DOM role and so funnily pulls of all the other personas, all 4 of them. The underrated Tuesday Vargas gets to shine too, and with this cast at that, equally impressive as a yaya-turned-feisty lawyer. Her reciting the  labor laws to her erstwhile bosses is one of the film’s funniest scenes and it is for roles like this that stars are sometimes made of.

Chris Martinez does it again with this film which will rank among his best, all 3 of them, what with his cutely executed character introductions in the beginning, Angelica as the pa-tweetums bride to be, John Lapus as the just heartbroken ‘image-stylist’, Jaime Fabregas as the horny-frail wedding financier, Tuesday Vargas as the oppressed and bullied Bisaya yaya, and Eugene Dominggo as the Miriam Defensor Santiago-like, old maid attorney, an impeccably assembled ensemble cast who worked off of each others’ roles, as the story demanded, a body-switch tale that will go down in history as one of the best body-switch movies ever made. Bride will be known as one of the best comedies ever made period. But isn’t it a little too obvious already to pronounce Chris Martinez films, Chris Martinez things as one of the best ever whatever when they’re made available for public consumption? He’s only made 3, all of which I personally consider masterpieces and that’s certainly not enough.

Don’t you just love how Martinez treats his audience as a thinking audience, one that shouldn’t have to be pounded over the head with a gag and be made to understand that that was joke, now laugh, such as in the scene where a beautician sees his fellow beautician having sex with a girl, runs away from the horrific scene and pukes real looking puke. No fancy sped-up effect and no goofy soundtrack to cue us in on the funny thing that just happened. He trusts that we will get it. And how can we not.

Style is the new substance

Rob Marshall’s Nine finally arrives. In the stalls of Makati Cinema Square. I’ve been youtubing Kate Hudson’s Cinema Italiano since last year and it’s twice as gorgeous in pirated DVD. I loved the black and white, I loved the play of light. I loved the lingerie display, the slutty Penelope, even the fat cheeks of Kate Hudson who I have newfound respect for. The cabana beats, the sassy singing, all the sashaying made me want to become a dancer like Kate Hudson and the guys in suits and shades and to some extent, Penelope, who vamps the hell out of Call from the Vatican. Rob Marshall gets a beating for being too flashy, too stylish, too out there, because really, what good are Oscar winning actors in a musical if they can’t sing. Apparently, they mean a lot. Cinema Italiano is no Cell Block Tango but what a gorgeous, gorgeous movie this is.

The Talented Mr. Ripley by the talented Ms. Highsmith

The brilliance of Patricia Highsmith’s story is that she so smoothly sets things up with the simplest and most innocent of actions, such that the borrowing of a college jacket equals a trip to Europe ultimately leading to murder, forgery and some more killings. I’ve only ever read one PH book (Strangers on a Train) and I think that Mr. Ripley in book form is probably twice as engaging as the Anthony Minghella adaptation but no matter, The Talented Mr. Ripley is as satisfying as any thriller I’ve seen.

And so it all starts with the borrowing of a jacket. Dickie Greenleaf’s dad sees a Princeton jacket on Tom Ripley and immediately assumes he went there too. Mr. Greenleaf requests Tom to fetch his son for him in an all expense paid trip to Italy and he goes. He prepares himself a little, studies a little jazz and some Italian so he can be chummy with the free-spirited Dickie and his all too American and similarly preppy wife, Marge. And he succeeds just as he should since he really is talented. He gets to be friends with the couple and more.

Tom Ripley is probably Patricia Highsmith’s most famous hero probably because of this movie and Matt Damon’s portrayal which ushered the story into people’s consciousness. His is one of the slickest performance of an actor I’ve seen doing a character doing impressions of characters. Staring at Matt Damon as Tom Ripley, you can sense the motivation bleed into determination from the way he practices contorting his face in the mirror as he tries to mimic his victims Dickie and Marge, to the way he steals glances at a bathing Dickie, and eventually as he becomes the new Dickie. And also anyone who can sneak in a clueing in of a character’s gayness in a disconcertingly diluted gay role is by itself worthy of a did-you-see-that? type of after-viewing fawning session.

Watching Tom Ripley force his way in and out of Dickie’s crazy life is both amazing and cringe-inducing. You’re both embarrassed of his dicking around for  Dickie’s affections but you’re also cheering him on to get what he wants, and on a grimmer level, cheering him on to silence those who are close to finding out about his nasty plans. It’s horrifying to see him prancing around in Dickie’s trousers and yet at the same time relieving when he offs Dickie and the very shrewd and matapobre friend, Freddie (Philip Seymour Hoffman). Freddie himself is sort of an interesting character. He reminds you of socialites who’ve been affluent all their lives and who represent all of those who turn their rich noses on social climbing nobodies like Tom, you and me. Incidentally I think of Tim Yap and I was extra cheerful when Tom smacks Freddie the Tim Yap character with a head sculpture.

Tom Ripley gets his comeuppance in the end, sort of. Just when his life was about to take a gorgeous turn as he earns the good graces of Dickie’s father who believes in his perverted version of events and consequently gets away with everything plus cash, with the pretty Peter Smith-Kingsley, an unassuming man clueless of Tom’s deeds about to get on board Ripley’s charades, in a totally shitty (for Tom) but quite well established coincidence, the talented Tom is spotted by Meredith, that annoying girl who just wouldn’t get a clue. This leaves him with no choice but to get attached with the woman since she somehow holds the key to his keeping up with his fake identity. In the end he gets stuck in a situation where one of his talents, slipping in and out of a scene like a practiced eel, is of no use since he’s trapped in a ship. And staying in the cabin for the rest of the trip wasn’t going to help either so naturally, he resorts to doing what he’s naturally good at and you know he’ll do just fine.

‘Well, whatever you do, however terrible, however hurtful, it all makes sense, doesn’t it, in your head? You never meet anybody who thinks that they’re a bad person.’ Oh, but you do. Admitting and concealing one’s meanness has become quite fashionable since I don’t know when but with Tom Ripley, it’s always been a way of life.