Films Weekly (Week 7)

About Time (2013) dir. Richard Curtis

The trademark of a British love story is the slight enhancement of charm, excellent articulation of feelings, and of course, hopelessly hopeful representations of the lead. Tim, a boy who always did things on a whim after learning that he could travel through time, was this smart, yet uncomfortable in knowing that he could do things. Domnhall Gleason played his part perfectly, with his frail decision over life's staggering storm, and a poor understanding of love. It's quite a jump from his previous job as Bill Weasley--his most brooding role yet, for me--and there's pleasure in knowing that he's this versatile man who has a thousand identities through the characters he cultivated from acting. The rest of the cast was, obviously, as gallant as Gleason himself. They hyped the story, and fluidly moved along the mood of the story. However, what saddens me was the flow of the story, and how it was structured into something so perfect. There was a climax, yes, but it wasn't represented as much as it did justice to the lead's time travel feats. It felt like there should be a strong reminder about the consequences of incoherent decisions and how it's deluding you with an easy way out, but I saw nothing; it was completely all about Tim's journey through life, through the eyes of time. But what redeems the lapse in the story was the careful impression of life as this sometimes comic, sometimes heartbreaking, and sometimes flimsy game. Richard Curtis must be this romanticist whose genius immaculately collaborates life and love into this strange-looking concoction of pain and pleasure. And you would always want to have a little taste.

Chef (2014) dir.l Jon Favreau

I consider this as one of Favreau's weakest peojects yet. It was enlightening (and mouth-watering), yes, but it did seem like there was something missing. His films from my childhood (like Zathura) that still wowed me to this day will always be a reminder of how good he is as a man with a penchant to the cinematic simplicity of adventure, but this one is a weak proof that he is still the same man. The actors, however, were in good shape, with their well-exhibited exuberance. But the female protagonists looked like accessories to this film, and no one wants that. It looked as if they were only there to feed the male lead's ego, and to fulfill the ending everybody wants: a wedding. Considering the fact that this was inspired by Jiro Dreams of Sushi and Eat Drink Man Woman, it would be a misguiding statement if we were to attribute this to few of this century's greatest food epics. The storyline was weak as the Cuban sandwiches were strong.

Films Weekly (Week 6)

Inside Llewyn Davis (2013) dir. Coen Brothers

The darkness that looms through this film is somewhat contrasting to what it tries to convey. It's nothing short of a masterpiece, another one from the Coens. They were big names from my childhood and it's truly a blessing that I reached this age to finally understand their language as filmmakers. The film had that similar film to their past projects: dark and harrowing, with stories from the past too complex to wrap your head around. The actors, as gracefully and as gallant as they can be, emitted something strangely good, as they take parts into these characters' life--clearly blurring the lines between actor and character. I did not for one second see the faces and auras of these people as personalities from the hollywood industry. They earmarked the start of a new standard of acting,and this story is too lucky to have these people act out the parts.

Tracks (2013) dir. John Curran

This film won't even make it to my list of cinematic projects, but it speaks so much to the people who are looking for something untroubled yet so drastic. The film takes on a low-energized stream of the story; it was lazy but you stay anyway because you need to know what happens next. What it lacks in cinematic magic, it makes up for the marvelous storytelling.

Architecture 101 (2012) dir. Yong-Joo Lee

this movie made me feel nothing but sadness to the core. It was simple, without the unnecessary shit. The story takes a turn on the right edges, and it was delightfully portrayed by the actors who seemed like the characters themselves, as they live through the words with pure, burgeoning emotion. This literally sent me to tears, with the director's genius popping out at the right places.

Leon (The Professional) 1994 dir. Luc Besson

It doesn't do so much about being the touchstone movie that reincarnated the amoral soul in everybody else, because the character himself a true-blue sentimental man of his own. He doesn't know it at first, but he is later on reminded of his true forms when he met a little girl who lived in this sordid apartment she shared with her dysfunctional "family". He is later on reminded of the struggles of having emotional attachment to something or someone, and the scenes that show us his slow act of giving in to emotions, no matter how he kept his face blank, is one of the most irrevocable sights in film. The innocence of the girl, which was violently snatched away from her, was awe-striking in a way that it was synonymized by her savage actions, relentlessly dictated by her vitriolic words. The film paved the way, I believe, for the new face of morality, deceit and the ferocious truth about killers: with judgment comes the actions you will eventually act out.

5 Centimeters Per Second (2007) dir. Makoto Shinkai

It's a simplistic way to remind us that impermanence will always cause us to be somewhere. It was short-lived, the movie, but it perfectly stated its one true goal and that is to show us the beauty of separation and indifference towards distance and the future. It was pure, heartbreaking yet refreshing in a way that it takes the audience. The cinematography brought the movie back to life in times of dead scenes; the sadness you may feel when you see the pain on the screen was redeemed by the extravagant colors. It makes the movie look as if it's picked up from a garden, once glorious with its colors but killed by the time that passed by but still have the glory reminiscent of the past.

Bridge of Spies (2015) dir. Steven Spielberg

Another film that glorifies the achievements of the whites when all the main character ever did was two bring back two Americans back to their country. It's a tiresome plot, believe me, and I still can't believe why no one is screaming of exhaustion. I do loved Tom Hanks acting here; it was logically put together, and he was well-meaning than ever. But to put this film on an artistic pedestal would mistreat other worthy films; it's a turn from Spielberg, yes, but it didn't so much than to compel me of the struggles of the ones living in Germany. I wasn't so much disheartened by the scenes that were supposed to make me feel something--it was trying hard, Spielberg was clearly pushing his belief that this would be of cultural value, when it wouldn't be so much as a showing off of privileges and its fake ability to earn attention. Perhaps the historical context would send the audience to a patriotic daze, but it was also disregarded in a sense that you can only see false adoration. I do respect the people involved in this story--the real ones--but the film was poorly produced that it seemed like a rushed work, gently reminding us that whites could easily earn respect by doing the simplest things.

consumerism on galentine's day

Chelsey and i decided to roam around the school for Galentine's day, and spend money on food. Earlier that day we hung out at Amo Yamie and it was FUN. We watched SNL skits from my phone while we drank overpriced mocha shakes. Then we went to library for 3 hours and did our thing. It was such a relaxing day, but still kind of sad because Julia wasn't around. We were supposed to go to Makati and spend Galentine's there; we even had our own master plan for the day! But nevertheless, we still had loads of fun while exchanging intellectual jokes with each other. 

I really can't wait to go to Makati with them and act like rich aunts from Europe, while simultaneously following a strict budget. 

Today is Valentine's Day and I'm going to be home alone all day, because my dad asked me to receive the couch set that's set to be delivered today. VERY UPSETTING.  

c. the time I was so scared of absolutely everything

Tethering yourself away from what you grew accustomed with could be the hardest and most impossible job to do, with the unwavering force of distraction holding us back like a deranged mother. It's an incalculable feat, perhaps a scary one, if we may add. Probably a misleading statement, but a very obvious one if we look closely. We are so scared to go away and look on the other side, always playing it safe because we are unsure of what might happen next. We often forget that it's a perpetually bound situation; no one knows what happens next. No one knew that single bullet through the Austrian Archduke's neck would be the most immediate cause of the war.

To be completely blunt, it shames me to belong in this generation. There is so much potential yet we choose to hide behind our fears and eventually fall to the fiery pits of forced conformity. Our choices scream mediocrity, and it's our fault. We question ourselves and each other so much we forget to pay attention and listen to what we want to say. We let what others say matter that it propels us to hide. When did we decide that a slight exposure to risks is an impossible duty?

This is Robyn Davidson. She was twenty-seven when she went on a nine-month journey from Alice Springs to the Indian Ocean, a 1,700-mile trek across the Australian outback, along with four camels and a dog. National Geographic agreed to fund the expedition, in exchange for sending in a photographer to take pictures of the journey. 

It's extremely an understatement if we were to categorize her as fearless. She's so much more than that: she's spirited, ferocious, and independently rapacious for new designs that she will use to provide for herself. She's her own hero, and that's that. 

She was aware of the inevitable harm she will encounter while traveling, like dehydration and shortage of goods, but she went for the trip, anyway. What makes her so different from us was her appetite for the exploits the world around her will offer. Certainly the complete opposite of what our generation might choose to do. It's an unfortunate disposition, but I'm hoping for everyone's openness to the idea of adopting change.

What amazes me about this woman was her undying drive to embrace new ideas. Something once strange to her--like teaching herself the Pintjantjara, the local aboriginal dialect--would eventually turn to something so close to her it will begin to look as if she's had it within her all her life. Why can't we be more like her?

This movie, Tracks, tells the story about her trek. I found out out about her there, and I will be forever grateful for the opportunity of seeing it. It wasn't that cinematic, but I figured that she, in all her adventurous glory and beauty, is beyond the movie. Her story deserved to be adapted but caging her journey in that sense would negate the fall and the risks she bravely took. She suffered multiple hazards and romanticizing that kind of experience was an insult for her part. She even found the photos taken by National Geographic photographer, Rick Smolan, to be extremely offensive because it looked like it was his experience, not hers. She was furious at first, but eventually warmed up to the pictures. They were beautiful, but let's not forget the processes that had to be made in order for these photographs to reach our eyes. 

Her self-reliance admired me, and it's a pleasure to know that she built the Camel Lady identity all by herself, greatly insisting that she is her own companion. Putting herself there without anyone's permission and not letting the scorn of the others stop her was another thing, dragging herself up without anyone's help. And this was all due to the unforgiving acceptance of what might happen in the future. 

Why I'm relentlessly spitting out my adoration for this woman can be blamed to my previous plans of being a travel journalist for National Geographic. Before seeing the film, I actually had plans of being a National Geographic Magazine writer. It has been on my mind for so long now, but I only had the chance now of concluding that I really want it, alongside my other plans of writing film reviews for the New York Times. An ambitious feat, but I'm proud to say, finally, who knows? 

I was reluctant at first, to establish this within myself, but reading her story made me change my mind as a dreamer. What am I so afraid of? Why does it matter? They're dreams; they had to be fed. I later on realized that repressing myself is not healthy, unless I want to stay where I was: completely lost, and self-loathing. It took me an impossibly long time to get over myself and just go out there. I had a falling out last year, and I guess it (partially) helped in my self-deprecation as a person (and as a writer). It was hell, but it was worth it, in all its tragic forms. 

Seeing the film sends me the notion that this might be it. This might get me somewhere I don't know, and it's scary and exciting and downright risky. For the first time ever, I validated myself with my aspirations to become what I want to be, and its refreshing. Finally, something to look forward to. I'm not sure if I'll ever arrive at my desired destination, but who is, anyway? No one is sure, and that is a fact no one can alter. I've had enough people degrade me to something I'm not, and I guess this is where I begin to shut it off, and just live.

Robyn got to where she wanted to be, finishing the long walk, but the tracks she walked in and the dangers she encountered were the most remarkable of all. My life might take the same road as hers: tough and verging between dilemmas and insisting decisions. But that's what makes it important.

Sometimes empowering each other--and yourself, most importantly--can create something this beautiful and timeless. Embrace your inner weird. You're beautiful, and I think it's about time to shut off anyone who tells you otherwise. Your journey might not make it to the National Geographic Magazine (but then again, who knows?!) but what's more important is the way you managed it yourself, and how you climbed your way up. 

Our generation is deemed to be the worst by everyone, and it's true. But this might change, if only we were more courageous.

Films Weekly - (Week 5)

Moulin Rouge (2001) dir. Baz Luhrman

Fine couture and exceptional stage play may not be the only eye-catching factors of this film. It may be deemed as the tragic story of the century--true, in many forms--but it does have a heart, red and blue and beating on its own purpose: to tug at our expectations and throw it along with the characters we grew up seeing on TV. It's brutally annihilating in the sense that it's all lovey-dovey and fairytale-like; the wild reds and blues is a ferocious juxtaposition of the story. It was fast-paced, almost too hard to keep up with, but we can only agree with how it should naturally seem like it, because the two doomed lovers were bound to be caged. The thrilling scenes were perfectly formulated, speaking to the olden Parisian film tradition. Love-donned, painful, and lip-parting. 

Obvious Child (2014) dir. Gillian Robespierre

This is the livid representation of female empowerment. Its raw, undulated yet sharp humor takes action in the character's lives. Faithfully following the feminist manifesto, it tries to be the bible of what it takes to be a damsel in distress, helped by former damsels in distress but most of the time, she's got herself all figured out. The film itself is a quiet revolution, soaking in its own noisy war cry. The monologue may be too surprising for some, for it portrays women the way it should be, and that's arguably the best thing about this. It may have some lapses on some scenes, but the story redeems all empty spaces that were left out, either consciously or unconsciously. 

Scarface (1983) dir. Brian de Palma

this may have been Brian de Palma's reply to Coppola's The Godfather, in all its greedy and tragic forms. The main player, played by the brooding man that is Al Pacino, smelled absolutely like the Mafia don, reminiscent of the former glory of the Ring. Although we are introduced with a seemingly identical hallmark that is Vito Corleone, we are constantly reminded that they are two different people with similar fateful lives. Godfather plays on the sentimental status as Scarface replies in a brutal, no-holds-barred vengeance. It doesn't for one second take part in sentimentality, a fact quite too heartbreaking to accept. The perversion of tragedy was too greedy, and there was no consideration for emotion at all. It was boldly admitted on the first scene, but it wasn't what we all expected. It's busy, self-identified, and satirical.

Gummo (1997) dir. Harmony Korine

The grime this film showed was unforgivable in all its senses, for it didn't do so much for me. Exhibited by loose-handed cameras, it shows the tragedies of people in a sleepy town. It tried so hard to evoke something, but it didn't. Its criminally honest storytelling is of no emotional value, and the actors bore no motivation to digress. It's a total waste of time, and regretfully unfortunate for it to come from Korine. Talk about the effortless drive to be important, and the wrong usage of aestheticism.

Rear Window (1954) dir. Alfred Hitchcock

For the movie to be branded as a sullen, and typical pastime would be too premature if you judged it within the first several minutes. It might seem like it, but it doesn't bow down to the audience's expectations. Especially because it's a sin for Hitchcock to drift away from his style. The shrewdness of the detective may be symbolized as the New York apartment dwellers' stubborn act of being observant to their neighbors' lives. Distance is the only thing that identifies the dichotomy between these people, and it's such a comical stunt, a surprising one from the thriller genius. It's an amusing play between routinely acts and eventful capers, and Hitchcock, once again, genuinely and willfully played it out. The careful transition between ease and irk was bearable enough for me to understand, yet still sent me to a complete stupor.

Sisters (2015) dir. Jason Moore

Comedies progressed backwards for us, and it's undeniably heartbreaking. This feature may be one of them but it does compensate for the fact that merriment comes alive still when you grow old. The film itself is not quite what I expected, coming from Poehler and Fey, but it does somehow tickle the high school mentality that never seems to go away, as it looks like an ode to the past. It was funny and raunchy, something I've always admired from Paula Pell. The actors were restless, thank god. 

Working Girl (1988) dir. Mike Nichols

The sudden belting of the song in the beginning sent me the conclusion that this would end up how I wanted it to, which was disappointing. But it still did something that indulges in the female intuition, and it's not so bad after all. The bleak colors and the sudden pink of this particular scene sends you the vibe that something is happening, and true enough, something did. Fulfillment of dreams for the protagonist was a bright possibility, and it didn't do the job of keeping the audience at the edge of their seats. The future was too possible it didn't intrigue me as much. But the script was smart and straight-to-the-point badass, which compensates for the inevitability of the plot I unfortunately experienced.

Films Weekly - (Week 3 & 4)

I want to be dead honest: school is getting in the way of my actual goals. One week of pure academic hell is enough for me to say that it would probably ruin my film streak. Anyway, it doesn't really affect that much. It's tiring, that's all. But dealing with school and my dreams is kinda hard, especially when I've just recently (early 2014) discovered my penchant for films and Wes Anderson. (More on that, later [hopefully].)

I'm trying my best to not talk about myself around here as much as I did before, so here are some insights I so carefully produced for these gems: (quite hurried, because I'm using the library internet, and people are starting to take notice of the clattering keys in the keyboard and I. Find. It. Unsettling.)

Eyes Wide Shut (1999) dir. Stanley Kubrick

Not really what I was expecting from Kubrick, but definitely left a mark in me and changed the way I viewed film. It appealed to me so much that I would much rather spend my life in celibacy. The harrowing flights this movie took set me at an alarmed state, with the story taking turns at such unexpected times. Essentially constructive and evocative, the film shows the audience their roles as mere viewers of the film, and that is the participation they are bound to execute themselves, either espoused or celibate.

Gravity (2013) dir. Alfonso Cuarón

As an avid enthusiast of space and time, it begets me to not appreciate the entirety of this film. The first act is begging for a little amount of ferocity, as this was the starting point of the characters' impending fate, but the character development truly speaks for itself. It was slow but cultivated, immaculately paying homage to the lethargic vibe space offers. The script, quite monotonous in the beginning, does its own job at making a stand for itself, as the actors unconsciously arouse the words to activity and put them at work.

Kill bill Vol. I (2003) and Kill Bill Vol. II (2004) dir. Quentin Tarantino

The obsessions we all share--bloodshed, revenge, and wordplay--are all present here. The epic, a two-part revenge movie, pays its own debt: reflecting on the vengeance that set The Bride ablaze. The director may be known for his own genius, but the characters built their own empires as the newly polished product of Tarantino's scape of imagination. Although the English subtitles may come off as an air of awkwardness whenever the characters speak in Japanese, it must be known that this must be the director's way of exercising his style, and the audience will never know, for they have created a mental image of what a Tarantino film looks like. This may be not be as great as his past and future productions, but Tarantino, in this film, relentlessly made a cordial invite in his off-putting world.

L'Avventura (1960) dir. Michelangelo Antonioni

This doesn't struck me half as much as the films I've seen from this era. But this would be an assumption too premature for me to formulate because this is the first Antonioni feature I've seen. Although possessing a well curated script, with the usually smart banter between the characters, some scenes are unfocused. The casual rendezvous between the main protagonists were gently portrayed, but lacking in the chemistry and alert mindfulness; it was bland, but sometimes engaging, with the help of the wordplay that pranced between wit and casual cruelty.

Lust, Caution (2007) dir. Ang Lee

Unexpectedly  engaging, Ang Lee once again proved himself to be the master of culture and cinematic thrill. The movie shined with a small sizzle at the beginning, and ended with still sparkling remnants of the hallmarks it established as it climaxed its way to the conclusion. The ill-fated characters, all doomed to live in leisure but eventually fall miserably to the hands of the enemy, authenticated their own integrity as the plot thickened its way to a perfect texture. The rigorous portrayal of eroticism was harsh, yet blatant in all its forms. The juxtaposition that took place within these scenes were slightly unsettling, as it really gets to you and the way you were expecting to see it as an expectant activist. 

Mean Streets (1973) dir. Martin Scorsese

Italian drollery is one of Scorsese's trademark as a filmmaker, and this film would serve as the pioneer of the wisecracked humor firmly built upon his films. This must be the most challenging De Niro film I have seen, as he plays the character of a lost, confused man. He is gracefully aged, judging from his looks, but ideal- and culture-wise, he isn't. He's downright impulsive and plays on the loser tag, but is still a deadpan I-am-a-hero hero throughout the whole movie. He didn't prove anything by the end, but it's impressive to know that he admittedly confessed his own faults as a modern madman. Scorsese, a small man of style and equitable talent, showed his trues form as a filmmaker in this feature, as it exhibits the misfortunes the plot befell, the complexities it took the characters to finally realize they are at violent seas.