Paalam

I am giving up Elias for 1981.
I was born in 1981.
See you there.

Another Idol

American Idol season 4 begins on the 18th. Listen to what Randy, Paula and Simon (yes, same old faces, despite last season's rumors that there would be a new set of judges) have to say about this season's finalists. (Randy said that with this batch's talent, last season's final twelve wouldn't even make it to the finals.) Did I say I'm excited? I hope ABC-5 telecasts this again. Please, please, please. I can't afford a cable connection right now.

Almario Reacts

With regard to my post last December 31, Jema lent me a copy of Bulawan 10: Journal of Philippine Arts & Culture, which Virgilio S. Almario edits. In his editorial, Almario (Sir Rio, on more personal occasions) was obviously reacting to Garcia's arguments against him, and called the latter "anghel ng katarungan sa pagsusuring pampanitikan." In effect, Almario wanted to justify his being "nativist," especially because he believed that Garcia misread him. In several instances in his book, Garcia was asking for Almario to be ironic in his position on language and Philippine literature for it could be the older critic's final refuge. I'm wondering if Almario's sarcasm with the way he ended his article was irony enough:

E, "self-righteous" din nga siguro ako dahil hindi naghihintay ng biyaya mula sa sinumang banyaga. Maaari pang idagdag na isa akong "oportunista" dahil hindi naghahanap ng kaganapan sa pamamagitan ng basbas mulang Kanluran. Karapat-dapat lamang akong isumpa bilang nakadidiring "Nativist" ng mga Hybridist.

Results

Happy new year! Classes will begin again in two days so I had to check the remaining long test the whole afternoon. It’s new year but nothing has changed: many students failed the exams. How do I discuss the result to them on Wednesday and still not spoil our first meeting for this year?

Anyway, I finally saw Mano Po III: My Love and Sigaw yesterday, and until now I’m wondering why the former got the best picture award, with its very sloppy script filled with characters without character. So despite the predictability of Sigaw’s first half (the "subtlety" concerning rooms 6 & 9, especially), I definitely like it better than Joel Lamangan’s. Okay, I’ll have to say I’m quite biased for suspense films, but without Vilma Santos (I must admit, she deserved the award) and Eddie Garcia (not Christopher de Leon), Mano Po would have been the filmfest disaster of the year. The shallow characters of Judith, Stephen, and especially Bernadette were equaled by the horrific performances of Karylle (it’s good she can sing), Patrick Garcia (what happened to his Batang PX potential?), and Sheryl Cruz (she doesn’t seem to age, even her acting). I give Mano Po III a C+ (2.50) and Yam Laranas’ a B- (2.75).

My personal ranking of the filmfest entries:

1. Aishite Masu: Mahal Kita, 1941 (disclaimer: best in the entries, not necessarily an excellent one; it would have been better if Lee got rid of the older Inya as the present-day narrator, I think)
   
2. Panaghoy sa Suba
   
3. Sigaw
   
4. Mano Po III: My Love
   
5. So... Happy Together
   
6. Spirit of the Glass
   
7. Mars Ravelo’s Lastikman
   
8. Enteng Kabisote: Okay ka, Fairy Ko... The Legend

Unfortunately for what I think are the better films in this year’s festival, box-office turnout seems to be inversely proportional with my personal taste.

On Criticism

Tomorrow begins another year. For today, I began reading J. Neil Garcia’s Postcolonialism and Filipino Poetics (University of the Philippines Press, 2004), and made some marginal notes. I wonder how Rio Alma reacted to this book (which was actually Garcia’s introduction to his dissertation in UP). Did Almario respond to this in writing? Please let me know!

Meanwhile, here are some of the most intriguing and controversial excerpts on Almario from Garcia’s book (because they are taken from particular contexts, you may want to read the whole book and so we can discuss this):

1. Indeed, by not providing a convincing or even just a slightly more substantial argument for just why and how such nationalist “availings” can and should take place, all that Almario would seem to be doing is advocating a kind of cultural opportunism, about which the Filipino opportunist ought to feel the utmost temerity and absolutely no sense of responsibility. (p. 27)
   
   
2. Of course, being the consistent and incisive critic that he is, [Gelacio] Guillermo [in his essay on Almario published in Philippine Collegian] doesn’t mince words when he attempts to account for just how and why Almario has come to believe in what he believes, in the process carefully reminding the reader of the striking congruence between Almario’s literary thoughts and the trajectory of his own poetic careerism that bore exceptional fruit while most of the country was being hit by a rifle-butt and going under the boot of the unstoppably marching, Marcosian times. (p. 46)
   
   
3. Reading his many books on Tagalog poetry, we somehow sense that the contradictions in Almario aspire to a species of subtlety, dissimulated by and buried as they would seem to be in the florid prose of his nationalist rhetoric. But to be perfectly honest about it, such contradictions appear to be most unselfconsciously committed—and egregiously so—as when he, right after condeming all forms of “colonial mentality” (kaisipang sungyaw), acknowledges the insuperability of Western colonialist theories. (p. 46)
   
   
4. As we have seen, unless Almario begins from the premise of cultural hybridity—that the colonial power is always “uncertain” and therefore vulnerable from the very moment of its arrival in the colonies—then his theory remains unconvincing (because naively triumphalistic, linguistically deterministic and mechanical), and incomplete. (p. 47)
   
   
5. If nowhere else, these convenient and completely uncorroborated claims concerning [Alejandro G.] Abadilla’s so-called “Filipino ego” reveals Almario to be a polemicist rather than a serious scholar or thinker. (p. 49)
   
   
6. Perhaps all this means is it would do Almario good to reconsider his brusque dismissal of postcolonial—and yes, even postmodernist—discourse, and to read up on the admirable critical projects of his many counterparts in the different places of the post- and/or neocolonial world. This is merely another way of saying that Almario might conceivably benefit from a healthy dose of self-awareness—and indeed, self-effacement—within his own theoretical endeavors. (p. 53)

Among other things, such a critique proves to me that the Philippine critical arena is being ventured upon by new voices (with new critical tools) brave enough to offer re-readings/revaluations of past critical endeavors, which is a good thing, despite their own limitations.


(A funeral scene from Panaghoy sa Suba.)
Saw Panaghoy sa Suba and Aishite Imasu: Mahal Kita, 1941 the other day. Both locate their narratives during the Japanese occupation, the former in the Visayas, and the latter in (a fictional?) San Nicolas. I was the first to enter the moviehouse for Panaghoy, and when the houselights opened after the first screening, I counted ten other people with me (and one of them was asleep). I give Cesar Montano’s a B- (2.75) for its beautiful cinematography, but I’m giving Joel Lamangan’s a B (3.00) for its script (Ricky Lee’s) which was awarded by Quezon City as the most gender sensitive film among the festival entries (gutong-guto ko ito, not just because Domeng Landicho has a cameo role in the film). The surprise is still Dennis Trillo’s portrayal of a transvestite who had a romantic relationship with a Japanese captain (played by Jay Manalo). His character, Ignacio Basa/Inya, uttered for me the best filmfest movie line, beating Vilma’s “Walang batas na nagsasabing bawal magmahal ng dalawa”: “Pasensiya ka na, hindi makabayan ang ari ko.” Yahoo! Trillo eventually won the best supporting actor trophy, which was a good thing (his role is bigger than Raymart’s, I think). Nobody seemed surprised when Christopher de Leon and Vilma Santos got the best actor and best actress trophies, respectively, but I wouldn’t have felt bad if Jay Manalo got de Leon’s instead. I was convinced: he can act.

Two more films to watch: Mano Po III: My Love (which won the Best Picture) and Sigaw (by Yam Laranas, whose earlier films I enjoyed).

Ads

Saw Spirit of the Glass and Lastikman with Nikka earlier. I give Jose Javier Reyes’s a C/C+ (2.25) and Mac Alejandre’s a D/C (1.50). Nothing was really notable in any of the two films, except for the latter’s excessive (and very blatant) product advertisements: PLDT touch card, Philam Plans, Jollibee, Skechers, Milo and Nescafe. I am slowly becoming disappointed with this year’s filmfest. My only consolation: the films I still have to see are the critics’ bets for Best Picture. I heard Panaghoy sa Suba is rated A by the FRB. Let’s see.

Books and Movies

This day had been productive. Was able to finish reading two books: Simone Weil’s Letter to a Priest (Allan’s gift to me for Christmas) early this morning, and Herman Hesse’s The Journey to the East (on sale at Dating Kundiman soon) while on a bus ride going back here in QC. Both deal with varied faces (and phases?) of faith; Weil’s nonetheless began with doubts, while Hesse’s with affirmation. I went back to Allan’s “Mga Liham ni Simone Weil” (I first read in The Varsitarian’s Montage, if I remember it correctly) in his latest poetry collection, Kundi Akala, and found salvation and suffering in its first five lines:

Na mayroong dalita. Na ang bawat hapdi
At dusang tinitiis ng sangkatauhan
Sa katawan ay kasal sa Dakilang Sugat
Na hindi naghihilom upang magbigay-lalim
Sa ating pag-iral. ...

Upon arriving here in the dorm, I immediately went to Metro East and watched two (of eight, my earlier goal for today was three; I need to watch all eight, because I required my students to watch and make a review on any of the entries) Metro Manila Film Festival movies: So... Happy Together and Enteng Kabisote: Okay Ka, Fairy Ko... The Legend (what’s with the ellipses?). If I’d give a grade (Ateneo system) to the films, the former will get a C/C+ (2.25) and the latter a D (1.00). But (unfortunately?) Enteng Kabisote seemed to top the box office over Happy Together or even any of the other films. I was actually excited to see Enteng Kabisote, in memory of my childhood Thursday evenings, but the Engkantasya in my memory is far better than the one I saw on widescreen earlier. G. Toengi failed to capture the charm of Charito Solis as Ina Magenta. Instead of Luka (Luz Fernandez)—what happened to her?, the Reyna ng Kadiliman was Satana (Bing Loyzaga), who was not evil and frightening enough. The faces (definitely, not the acting) of Kristine Hermosa and Nadine Samonte saved the film, I guess. Generally, it made me feel like watching a (bad) tv series season finale than a movie.

Meanwhile, Happy Together was feel-good on its first half but failed to sustain the comedy and gave way to drama in its remaining sequences, which were choppy, at the least. Eric Quizon’s acting is the most commendable in the film, mukhang natural. But still have to see Cesar (Panaghoy sa Suba), Christopher (Mano Po III: My Love), and Raymart (Aishite Imasu: Mahal Kita, 1941) in their respective films for my Best Actor forecast.

Seven

The seven best things that made my Christmas day complete:

1. A number of friends remembered to greet me (even if I could hardly have a signal here in San Gregorio), but I ran out of credits and wasn’t able to text back; I reserved my last few pesos, of course, for Nikka’s.
   
2. I got to meet ALL my younger cousins (especially my favorite, Aiel) and all my godchildren, and they all seemed to like my gifts.
   
3. Tita Ayen checked out of the SPC Medical Center, three days after her operation.
   
4. I went to see Lola Mama, Lola Lisa and Lola Ate, and gave them some presents (they used to give me the best gifts when I was very, very young).
   
5. Kuya Budz, Dondon (he called me on my cellphone earlier) and One visited me at home (we used to spend Christmas evenings at Kuya Budz’s).
   
6. Phillip texted me (future Father Phillip!), and I was very glad to know that he was okay, after the typhoons that devastated Infanta, where he now stays.
   
7. Kuya Topher (a second cousin—his lola and Inay are sisters, and classmate when we were in kindergarten) passed by our house with his daughter (they’re all getting married!); it’s been almost a decade since I last saw him.

(Aiel, who lost some of his teeth before Christmas.)

(Kate, my inaanak and youngest cousin.)

(Janine, second in Uncle Jeff's three daughters.)

Sanity

Tried to continue reading Artaud, but found that it was not very difficult to enter into his insanity. I had to stop at the verge of fright. I cannot go back to him, at least not for now. More than three years ago, my body was less than an inch close to several lunatics (clinically), while in my mind I initially tried hard to go far from them. However, after surviving my first five practicum hours, the next 95 seemed to come so fast. Before I knew it, two months passed by, and I was already submitting my report on the case I handled (of someone with paranoid schizophrenia).

Not a few poets/writers are known to be insane. At the least, they were called eccentric. In the Philippines, I’ve heard (also from the hospital where I had my practicum) that Federico Licsi-Espino was diagnosed for having a mental disorder, and had moved from hospital to hospital until he was finally confined to the National Institute for Mental Health. For now, it’s still hearsay; I don’t know whether there’s a reason to pursue this kind of truth.

For those who saw Brandy Ayala (a former bold star; still, an artist) at The Buzz yesterday, you knew that she hadn’t fully recovered yet. An insane individual’s smile was the saddest I saw ever (not Brandy’s). Probably because I felt pain in realizing how a person may not be fully aware of her/his own happiness. But can I be happy knowing that s/he may not also be capable of feeling pain? Is it enough consolation?

Is it really only this—awareness—that separates our “sanity” from theirs?

Valery on Poetry

Just finished Paul Valery’s The Art of Poetry (finally!). And these are the three things that remained in me after closing that 345-page book:

1. Poetry as sound and sense.
2. Poetry is to dancing as prose is to walking.
3. Poets work on their art.

Did anyone know that Paul Valery’s full name is Ambroise Paul Toussaint Jules Valery? Wala lang.

BJ

Done checking ALL the student papers (Kris Aquino’s yahoo—not Bearwin Meilly’s—echoes in my mind). Only a set of Fil 12 group/seat work and their long test were left. Last Thursday, I spoke with my student who plagiarized in his first paper. The problem with students is that they don’t take proper citation seriously. I couldn’t tell if it was done with malice or not, whichever way the fact remains: what he did was not right. He told me that he interviewed Paolo Manalo (paging Paolo!) for his paper, but again, it does not alter the fact: it was plain and simple plagiarism. In the first page of his paper, just before he began to cut and paste from various sources (while he was still enjoying his topic, it seems), he used the words “tsupa” and “chupa” (at least he was conscious of spelling variations!) and wrote the following footnote (one of the two footnotes in the whole essay!) for that Pinoy word for blowjob: “ang pagbibigay ng kaluguran sa ari ng lalaki sa pamamagitan ng bibig.” Beat that.

Anyways, “tsupa” is the UP Diksiyonaryong Filipino entry, a word that comes from the English “fellatio” (Latin fellare) meaning “oral stimulation of the penis” (Brittanica Dictionary) or “pagdila o pagsupsop ng uten” (UP Diksiyonaryong Filipino). There. No delight (“kaluguran?”) necessary.

Presents

If thou shall give, I shall happily receive. The following people gave me some early Christmas gifts: Loyola Schools (courtesy of the VP and the deans), Heights, Ted, students Bettina and Ramon, a certain student by Ambeth Ocampo who borrowed Jema’s baybayin, friends and colleagues Christine, QT, Vim, Jema, Kristine, Claudette, Boyet, Jethro, Sir DM, Ma’am Coralu, Ma’am April, JB, Ma’am Beni, Sir Je, and Allan. The number one present of the year is food, but some friends still think of me as a bibliophile. Anyway, here’s the list of gifts I received as of today:

1. PhP 500.00 Aeon Books gift certificate
2. Kristov Vodka Ice
3. Purefoods Fiesta Cooked Ham
4. Tumbler (for badminton)
5. Butterscotch (2 packs)
6. Kayumanggi Coconut Sport Balls
7. Cookies (2 packs)
8. Chocolates
9. Wind chimes
10. Chopsticks and mini-cup
11. Picture frame
12. Cup and saucer
13. Pencil (or cellphone?) holder
14. Shorts (again, for badminton)
15. Tape measure (5.0m/16 ft.)
16. Altoids
17. Olive groove: Smoked Bangus
18. Letter to a Priest by Simone Weil
19. Backpack
20. The Ballad of the Five Battles by Nick Joaquin
21. Santa Claus keychain
22. (Did I forget anything?)

By next year, I’ll have an Amazon.com wishlist. I hope friends will find time to take a look at that, hehehe. Anyway, a Merry Christmas to all! Yes, this season is not all about gifts, but it’s not bad to buy me one.

Treasures

Saw National Treasure earlier (was supposed to watch Birth but Metro East must have pulled it from their cinemas after only a few days’ run). Three weeks ago, I decided to watch Alexander over it; now I know that it was good decision, though they’re both not-so-good movies. The thing about the templar, masons, and series of riddles to be solved (“it will just lead you to another clue,” cried the older Gates to Benjamin, played by Nicolas Cage) made me felt like watching a harbinger to The Da Vinci Code, and it got me excited. It’s definitely one thing to look forward to—even just for seeing the Musée du Louvre in widescreen (I promise myself to go there before I turn forty, for whatever reason)—for 2005 (along with Batman Begins and Star Wars Episode III). But yes, I still can’t imagine Tom Hanks as Robert Langdon.

Songs and Parties

The Christmas Party last Friday was both fun and unnerving. Why, we had the annual Pamaskong Koryo Awards (where I won the best new recipe of the year for my sinigang na hotdog with okra)! As expected, there were the not-so-surprise winners—like Jonathan Chua (for Quotably Quotable of the Year, which I will not quote here) and Gary Devilles (for the Most Missed Award, besting Rolando Tinio, among others)—but we laughed all the same. Then we had some videoke session in the afternoon, thanks to Bong who brought her Magic Mic (with its 10,000-peso chip) with her. Four got 100 (excellent singing!): Morny (a “Bakit Ngayon Ka Lang” duet with himself, a la Doble Kara), Vim (I forgot, but probably a boyband song), Jayson (back to back diva classics), and Sir Mike (an immemorial Ric Manrique). The highest I could get (and this was already performance level) was a 95 (still an A, hah!) for Rivermaya’s “Kisapmata.” The real videoke party began at eight p.m. in the Taverna Marquina (but Vim, Jema and I arrived at 9 p.m. because we wouldn’t want to miss an episode of Spirits). No scores, but more fun. Of course, we ended with Sir Je’s undying “Punch and Judy.”

Paw is IN!

Told you. She deserves to be in. And she's in. Now she's back in the game. Now I have a reason to watch SCQ again.

Wasn't able to see the wild card special last night (we were in Taverna Marquina for our Christmas videoke party from 9 pm to 2 am), but here are some pictures I got from the net.

(Franz and Paw were the ones left on stage as top questors, but...)

(... only Paw was declared IN, with almost 7,000 votes more than Franz's. 24 of those 95,661 votes came from me! Yahoo!)