On Paper

I don't know how many times I've crossed paths with graphic novels and illustrations, either on the internet or in local bookstores (Fully Booked and Booksale). They're all so pleasing to the eyes, with the right colors on the right places and just the right amount of humor and sadness in the stories that come with them. Some are calmly shaded but is portrayed by a violent story, and vice-versa. I don't know when my penchant for graphic novels and comics actually started, but I'm pretty sure Winx Club and Archie cradled my initiation as an avid follower. I don't know why I ever stopped reading them, when I used to have so many issues. Eleven years after, I could no longer find them, not even in the deepest trenches of my grandfather's house. 

Now, like an emergency call from the past, I've once again immersed myself deep in the throes of the internet to find these gems.

1. Adrian Tomine

I first saw Adrian Tomine's art a year ago, when I was randomly scanning through Fully Booked's art section. His New York Postcards caught my eye with its seemingly bubblegum-esque mood. It features a girl sitting on train, looking over the window while holding her book across her face. He has also collaborated with The New Yorker, showcasing fifteen of his illustrations. 

Hi ongoing comic series, Optic Nerve, has been on my wishlist for so long now, alongside Killing and Dying. 

Published by Drawn and Quarterly in 1995, the Optic Nerve series has come a long way over the years, featuring different stories of people. Romantic, identity, and even familial crises are present in these mini stories, and it's pretty neat. 

His most recent work, Killing and Dying, which deals with heartache and the unabashed exploration of loss, was critically acclaimed last year. Its ambitiously creative plot instantly pulls that tiny string that somehow brings me back to the Dark Times I used to (desperately) crawl through just to get to the other side. Drama aside, it's exponentially great to think that I have this in my possession.

      

What really is amazing about his work is his explicit description of fixation in his illustrations. These portraits of girls fixated over their points of preference is somehow parallel to how I move around foreign environments, or even in my room.They remind me so much of those train rides I would take; I would stare out the window and I imagine someone doing a sketch of my figure. (I know I'm not the only one who does this.) I love how these portraits directly imply how Tomine pays close attention to his surroundings. 

2. Nick Drnaso

I found this from Drawn and Quarterly, which features mostly teenagers from a local suburb. It's a satirical take on lost souls, with the bleak representation of being an outcast in your own town. another artist who's not a big fan of violent reds and blues, Nick Drnaso especially caught my taste. Beverly's cover itself is speaking so much about what it tells you, and I can't help but feel that this is a slightly comical version of the Coen brothers' film, Fargo. 

There are some elements of quiet violence within each panel, and you might just agree with me; the adolescents in this feature are normally just repressed bodies of brutality.

The barren look of the setting, funny how it is, perfectly represents how I feel about my life as a college student, and how dry I've been feeling lately. Drnaso completely impressed me with his shrewd language that resembles a David Lynch film. His art itself, without any dialogue, sends you to an almost extreme preciseness, without ever being ambiguous. I mean, that's how everyone should be like, right? Sugarcoating is not his forte, and I've never read such atrocious and relentless honesty. I would absolutely die to have this.

3. Craig Thompson

I remember loosing my shit when I first saw this at Fully Booked, almost two years ago. as per usual, I did not have enough money to get it, and promised myself I would come back for it the next week. I came back and and it was nowhere to be found. It was sold out, obviously. After that, I never saw it again. So it's kind of an impossible hunt for me, close two years and I still don't have it. It's shameful, really, because it has such a rich story about Craig, a young man, in the search for his true self, while simultaneously falling in love with a girl named Raina.

                  

The usual revealing-oneself-to-the-other, it still screams unconventionality, with its imaginative visualization through Thompson's wild brushstrokes. I'm still longing to see how the characters' inner demons resurfaced through the gentle-to-turbulent transition of the doodles that surrounded them. Familiarity to heartbreak was never this graphic, as D&Q would like to put it. 

I'm not always a big fan of love stories on comics or graphic novels, but when I am, I make sure that it's this compelling, even though I haven't read it yet. It's also VERY nice to know that the writer wrote the novel as away of coming out to his parents, and no longer being a Christian. Imagine how gratifying it is to read something about redemption--which I need(!!!).

4. Shigeru Mizuki

Japanese history was never this exciting for me, and as an ardent believer in the power of history and its study (Ma'am De Castro taught me well), I find this absolutely, tremendously, appealing both to the eyes and the mind. I've been following documentaries on National Geographic (thanks to my dad) and accidentally finding these is such a great feeling!!! 

I don't like Hitler at all, and I don't support any of the things he's done, and to read this would categorically help me fuel my hate more. Especially now that we, in the Philippines, have a potential Trump and/or Hitler as presidential candidate. 

This book centers on the life of Hitler as a starving art student in Austria, to building Germany only to leave it in ruins. With cartoony characters circling around the enigma that is Adolf, everything seems so entertaining, when it's really a despairing tale. Which is rad, because 1) it's from a Japanese writer; and 2) Japanese writers are the best in juxtaposing stories through their art!!!

This other novel by the same author, Mizuki, on the other hand, serves as a semi-autobiography. As a Japanese army veteran, he tells the story of what was then a militant Japan and United States.

I saw some previews, and it somehow resembles the air that surrounded Hitler. Tense yet full of life because of the funny-looking characters on scenes that depict everyday humor. As an historical account of Japan during the Showa period, it sends the reader some kind of motivation to learn more about Japan. (Because Asian studies are, for me, the best. Sonorous, violent, and very cultural.)

Economy and trade were also tackled, with friendly illustrations that won't confuse the readers. It's such a joy to read an account of what used to be a bulwark of communism.

Definitely a must HAVE.

5. Jillian Tamaki

First started as a webcomic, SuperMutant Magic Academy recites the antics and adventures of lizard-headed Trixie with her fellow mutant classmates.

Brilliantly told through the eyes of a writer whose affinity for young adult stories never seems to go away, it gently reminds us of the woes we used to have as small children, or even as pre-adolescents. Life in the Academy could sometimes be so dull, and it naturally feels like death. As a girl whose middle school life verges from Unbearable to Actual Death, I find this very interesting. It's supplemental to go back and reminisce for one to actually grow up.

Filled with the usual angst everyone used to feel back then, it's a miraculous work from Tamaki. She just saved us all and we don't even know it yet.

I just wish I had enough credit on my card...

Films Weekly (Week 9)

No Country for Old Men (2007) dir. Coen Brothers

No Country serves as the limbo between the squeamish and the relaxed. Set in this grimy, old town in Texas, the quiet lives of the people are not particularly disturbed, but is still mismatched with how turbulent the protagonists' (and the antagonist's) decisions distressed the the sleepy mood. Much can also be said about the relentless violence that perfectly matches the humor. The sudden drop of temperature you feel when greeted by the deafening silence signals the arrival of the enigma that is Anton Chigurh, the captive bolt pistol-wielding hitman. A "psychopathic killer," he is described as a man with no remorse or compassion--but does every killing with deliberation, using a coin to decide the fate of his victims. This archetype of a villain almost seems perfect, with his almost-silent character as the main protagonist in his own antagonist world. The main protagonist, on the other hand, seized the idea that he could be the hero. Before falling to the hands of Chigurh, we see the inextricable tragedy he is setting himself upon. The progressive underlining of the antagonist's drives at lonely motels and bereft-looking gas stations almost conceives the idea that he is close, and the sudden uncertainty of who should we root for comes into mind. No other movie has played with my morals as ferociously as this one. 

Spectre (2015) dir. Sam Mendes

I can't fully express my disappointment for this last Bond feature with Daniel Craig without highlighting the bad quality of acting, the patronizing portrayal of women, and the poor character development. Yes, we've known Bond for centuries now, but they could have done added a little spice to Craig's character, as this would be his last one. There was no sense of thrill, making it look like a recycled bowl of Just Make the Goddamn Movie. It was tired and I found no motivation to watch it again in the near future. Unlike Skyfall and Casino Royale, the calamity perfectly dogged along with the enjoyment. 

Gangs of New York (2002) dir. Martin Scorsese

The America shown in this film was not the bright land we all envisioned. Instead, it was seething with fear, neurosis, and flawed governance. Graft, corruption, and larceny were expressed in a manner so great that it tops any of Mr. Scorsese's past character and story debauchery. He rapaciously recreated something from the twentieth century that it sends the notion that someone watching this in the twenty-first century surely felt agitated. His penchant for street-style mobs were elegantly wed with the Old New York--something that fits perfectly, with the unruly crowds and loud music. A man of genius in the acts of lawlessness, Mr. Scorsese addressed the ethnographic sensibility of the characters, making it an important movie. It wasn't polite in the sense that it shouldn't be, and the misfortunes were not stylized. Mr. Scorsese doesn't ever push his motives, but it does leave something for our eyes and mind alike to feast on. 

Ex Machina (2015) dir. Alex Garland

With the turn of the century, the innovation of technology is very unlikely to cease. It's a fast-paced corroborative act done by humans and, true enough, it's become smarter and more conscious than the normal human mind. A machine outdoing a human is not impossible, and it's such a shame. They are becoming aware, and it's scary to think of a world localized by machines, and Ex Machina proves it to be that disturbing. It's a philosophical movement, in a way that man is God, and the robot is the creation; man treats himself as the messiah of a dying breed when he created a thinking machine--so strong it challenged (and defeated) him. It was an unexpected turn of events, with the gentle reminder at the end that we, too, were fooled. Certainly not a shallow play, it has no room for conventionality: modernity is played out with the helpful guidance of the olden teachings, bowing to the Greek idea that revolves around the deus ex machina doctrine. Somewhat a shameful ode to the fall of humans to decompartmentalization, this wit-wrenching gem will surely live on as a harsh reminder that we can be gods, but only for a little while.

Fargo (1996) dir. Coen Brothers

Set in a mundane town, the Coen brothers are at their height of exploration when the focus on murder and calamities that hit the characters was swerved away by the gentle remarks of awkwardness among the protagonists--therefore adding lightness to the mood. The most prominent hero in the film, however overshadowed by the occasional panning of the camera to the statue of Paul Bunyan, is the very pregnant Marge. This factor shed some light on the darkness that looms around the characters as it redeems the noir-esque atmosphere. The remoteness of the setting makes up for the thick plot line, a sharp contrast so eerily portrayed. The torridness of violence in this movie runs so fast it appears to be comical. Dreamlike, the Coen brothers envisioned a turbulence that masked itself as a calm wave. 

the wee hours are my favorite hours of the day

Last Sunday, we went to Mow's for Care's birthday party. It was rad, as expected. She had five bands to perform that night. Here are some of my favorite shots. I only have a few because the rest were videos I shot for this music video I am planning to produce.

Anyway, the ride home was my favorite part of the day (next to the time spent at Mow's, of course). It was past one in the morning, with only a few cars roaming the streets of Quezon City. We rode a cab on the way to Dapitan, and all I could think about was how I really admired the night and the look of neon against dark surfaces. Eventually it boiled down to how much I loved being alone, in the dark, and totally unharmed by next day's horrors.

I asked the driver to drop me in front of the McDonald's in Lacson so he could take Julia straight to her home (which was nearby). I was really excited to eat alone and write subpar poetry, but then I was reminded of the picture of my 1,000 pesos in Julia's wallet. So McDonald's would be an out-of-the-question choice for me. I wanted to take pictures of the streets instead but I can't bring myself to bravely take out my camera, as it was very dark, this suspicious young man looking at my bag. So I walked straight to my dorm, took a shower, and watched The Office. Before I went to sleep, I gave myself a quick run-over of the events that happened that night: the bands, the violent hum of the music, the people I was with, the ride home, the quiet berating of the radio in the taxi, the low lights on the road, the wind against my skin, the darkness inside fast food chains that close down by nine in the evening.

It was a simple night, but it would be one of my favorites nights. 

Films weekly (week 8)

Before Sunrise (1995) dir. Richard Linklater

Conversations and intimacy were happily wed in this film, and nothing has beat it ever since. The natural freshness of the characters and their approach towards life in general is very bright yet off-putting at times--it was as if listening to two people who have lived enough to know and not know everything. You are suddenly so clueless about everything yet full of facts and feelings when you know you're on the verge of vowing your love for someone. That stage in a budding relationship was thoroughly discussed in this film, through poetry, casual communication, and physical contact. It was altogether an ergonomically directed film, for it has proven its position as a reference for some who are dying to know what being with someone is (at least for me). Capturing the unrelenting beauty of Vienna, all the fast get-acquainted scenes between Jesse and Celine are easily forgotten with the sharp use of words that smoothen the surface of the plot. Somehow the fast-paced chemistry between two people won't matter as soon as they start conversing.

Ocean's Eleven (2001) dir. Steven Soderbergh

The drab, carpeted humor in this film is equivalent to the enigmatic movement of story. The dialogue is not as economical as the flow, but it did embellish the boredom of the main character, Danny Ocean. The overt charisma of the actors is obviously an alas for the story, but it did not show much of its use as a card to provoke and fascinate the audience. Perhaps the cultivated identity—the celebrity aura—of the actors were treated as if it’s of great significance, which appeals to me as something off-putting. It’s as if its roster of people were the only factors that pronounced the film. The candy-glazed look of the scenes, however, blew a bit of life into the disturbingly senseless purpose of the plot. It was alive, playing with your eyes with what it wants and doesn’t want to see. Despite the detached morality and goals of the film in general, which left me confused the whole time, it did exhibit the smooth ways it passed through to reach the height of its ending.

Ocean's Twelve (2004) dir. Steven Soderbergh

Not as sugarcoated as the first installment, but still stands to be as lackadaisical. Still an artificial attempt to portray an old man's bore, it deems itself to be a failure in showing the illegal-yet-lawful caper that occurred. It turned out to be a talent showcase on how to get away with robbing millions, but it did not show much of the anticipated thrill you get when you're on the run on a gambol with men you barely even show enthusiasm to talk with. The unbridled humor and the smart movement of the actors with the story were in perfect harmony, but would eventually be interrupted by the deflection of any fun by the unabashed exhibition of cocky dialogue and pushy wordplay. Ocean's Twelve gives off the idea that's it's the most fluid genius of its era, but is really just another greased-up tool. 

Ocean's Thirteen (2007) dir. Steven Soderbergh 

As enchanted as it may look like at first glance, the director still forgets to flog his own flair for the dramatic. Though as similarly over-emphasized as the first two installments, the third could be identified for its excessive use of reds and sudden booms of blue to move along with the characters' moods. It was scene-wise, but still as ludicrous as Al Pacino's fake tan. The fabricated disaster (the fake earthquake) was the last straw for me; it wasn't realistic, and is very self-indulgent in all its forms, with its know-it-all and forced wisdom attitude. The hunger for power and greed were over-glorified, and creatively speaking, it wasn't very wise.

Up in the Air (2009) dir. Jason Reitman

Closed up on the affairs of your loved ones and greatly bashed by the popping of your ears once in a while could be the best and worst things one could imagine. In the era of a barely-breathing America with its economy digging up its own grave, one is expected to expect the unexpected. It's a hard place to live in, and this film perfectly proved that there are great things out there, only to be disappointed in the end by impassable heartaches. To have this rough job smoothly played out by Clooney is a pleasure; seeing him disconnected from his George Clooney identity and see Mr. Bingham could be a feast for one's eyes. The story was built up to have a bumpy ending (yet still acceptable). It was carefully thought of, with the heartbreaks at the right places. The traditional setting wherein a woman is merely just a prop was stashed away, with Anna Kendrick acting as Clooney's equal, not as his inferior.  The dialogue was simple yet affecting, a mouthful yet still economical, and permanent yet transcending. It used up all its strengths to show that the film isn't one simple plot that ends with a single conclusion. It also shows just how agonizing and relaxing it is,at the same time, to live and move.