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.

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.