The View from Saturday

Best of 2011

2011-12-31T11:35:00.001+08:00

I admit I almost didn't make a "Best of" list this year, not only because I haven't even been able to blog over the the past two months, but more so because 2011 started off so spectacularly shitty for me. During the first half of the year, I went through the toughest time in all my 30 years, and at one point, I honestly thought I'd never recover.

But thanks to the staggering outpouring of love and support from family and friends (and from some very unexpected people), I pulled through. And improbably enough, the latter half of the year turned out pretty well. In fact, I've had such a blast the last few months, that in spite of being super busy with work, I feel on top of the world, and looking forward to 2012 with an optimism I haven't had in quite a long while.

It's in this spirit that I drew up my "Best of 2011" list, and it's with profound gratitude that I dedicate this to all the wonderful, wonderful people in my life, for the incredible understanding, patience and kindness they've shown me during this year. I couldn't have made it without your advice, consolation, humor and loyalty. I am stronger, wiser, and happier thanks to everything that happened, and more importantly, thanks to everyone who stood by me. I love you all, so much.

Besides, I hate breaking with tradition! So here goes:

Best day: October 15 (exploring Angkor Wat with my sibs and Auntie Nene)
Best month: August (Tangsoc was in town!)
Best life-altering decision: no need to state the obvious, yes?
Best family vacation: Vietnam-Cambodia with the sibs and Auntie Nene
Best non-family vacation: it's a tie between Boracay with Raqs and Angge, and Singapore with the LM girls
Best traveling companion(s): Raqs and Angge
Best wedding date(s): my sibs
Best surprise: Serenitea Grapefruit Yakult from Danya and Gillian :)
Best gift given: my sister's 5th (and largest) Gund bear =D
Best gift received: a WD TV hub from my brother
Best party: Pia's surprise bridal shower
Best luxury item purchased: black patent Christian Louboutin pumps :D
Best investment: my Kindle with WiFi and free 3G
Best new TV show: Game of Thrones
Best show to share with shobe: Masterchef Australia
Best movie: The Help
Best actor: Stanley Tucci
Best actress: Emma Stone (new girl crush!)
Best book: A Clash of Kings
Best author: George R.R. Martin
Best CD: Glee presents The Warblers
Best song: "Details in the Fabric", Jason Mraz (not a 2011 release, but I only fell in love with it this year)
Best LSS (last song syndrome): "Moves Like Jagger" by Maroon 5 featuring Christina Aguilera
Best concert: Jason Mraz live in Manila
Best object of lust: Darren Criss =D
Best fictional object(s) of lust: the men of Game of Thrones (Robb Stark, Jon Snow, Jaime Lannister)
Best inspirational figure: Steve Jobs
Best miracle moment: winning the top prize in our Go clan mooncake dice game
Best fashion trend: blazers
Best fashion staple: platform heels
Best beauty aid: Body Shop Body Butter Duo in Vanilla
Best caffeine fix: FruiTea Mix
Best sweet tooth treat: salted caramels from Artisan du Chocolat
Best meal: dinner at Sojourn, Siem Reap
Best drink: ice cold San Mig Light at the Ateneo bonfire
Best 15 minutes of fame/infamy: (pinch-)sitting on a JGSOM Marketing benchmark panel
Best achievement: moving on
Best healthy past-time: early morning yoga classes at Bliss
Best unhealthy past-time: coupon sites!
Best new online preoccupation: 8tracks.com
Best blog post: "The real score"

And to close my year, these lines from Coldplay's "Charlie Brown":

In my scarecrow dream
When they smashed my heart into smithereens
I be a bright red rose come bursting the concrete
Be a cartoon heart
Light a fire, light a spark
Light a fire, a flame in my heart
We'll run wild
We'll be glowing in the dark...

Sojourn in Siem Reap

2011-10-29T11:34:00.001+08:00

I've stayed in many hotels in many countries across the globe, with Chateau Lake Louise in Canada and the W along Lexington in NYC among my favorites, but this is the first time I feel compelled to write a review of a hotel, simply because it surpassed all the establishments I've encountered.

When my siblings and I were planning our 5-day Vietnam-Cambodia vacation, we scoured the Internet for hotel recommendations. I came across glowing reviews for Sojourn Boutique Villas in Siem Reap, and I was immediately drawn to its attractive "Weekender 2-night Package". For US$190 per night (inclusive of airport transfers, daily breakfast, one lunch, one dinner, AND a guided tour of Angkor Wat) it seemed like an almost too-good-to-be-true deal. I booked 2 Terrace Rooms online, and just a day after I received a nice, friendly email from the Sojourn team asking for our flight details so that they may arrange our airport pickup service.

About a week before our scheduled arrival in Siem Reap, I emailed Sojourn again, requesting for assistance in making dinner reservations at some restaurants. Again they responded promptly, and cheerfully confirmed that they would help book tables for us. Even as early as then, I felt reassured we had chosen the right hotel.

When we walked out of the Siem Reap airport, our driver Sari was there to greet us with a Sojourn placard bearing my name, and a sunny smile. When we clambered into the hotel van, there was a cooler containing drinks for us. Between the warmth of Sari's welcome and the cool beverages, our first impression of Cambodian hospitality was definitely positive.

Sari drove slowly, so we got a good look at the Cambodian countryside on our way to Sojourn. The weather had been unkind to Southeast Asia lately, so many of the rice paddies were flooded, and as we'd later discover, so were many of the roads of Siem Reap town. We passed by some hotels along a wide boulevard, but I knew Sojourn was located some distance away from the rest of the herd. However, some minutes later when Sari turned onto a very narrow, bumpy dirt road, I got a bit nervous and wondered what kind of hotel would be located in the middle of nowhere.

My fears were allayed as soon as we entered Sojourn's gate. There was no mistaking we had arrived at a well-maintained establishment, even at first glance: torches lined the driveway, orchids floated in birdbaths in a tic-tac-toe grid meticulously created with leaves, and the facade of the building seemed impossibly white contrasted with the muddy pools of flood water we'd seen outside. Beaming staff chirruped their welcomes and efficiently whisked away our luggage. A Dutch (?) expat who was presumably the hotel manager met us at the reception counter and took us to the dining area to go over our 2-day itinerary. He also confirmed our dinner reservations, but helpfully suggested we eat at Sugar Palm instead of Angkor Palm (we would eventually go with his recommendation, and Sugar Palm was fantastic!). As we were talking, we were offered cold towels that smelled divinely of jasmine, and cute little jasmine garlands.

We were then showed our rooms, which were appointed in a style I like to call modern resort chic. Each room had a spacious balcony, one of which overlooked the pool and the surrounding villas. The twin beds were comfortable, the pillows plush.The bathrooms were spacious, with rain showers, and ours even had a skylight. There were the usual hotel amenities, but with boutique flair: bottled water housed in clever wicker covers, toiletries with local scents like jasmine, orchid, lime basil and orange blossom, a potpourri pouch hanging inside the closet where the bathrobes and slippers were. They even provided a stack of books that could be borrowed for leisure reading. Orchids were artfully placed in spots throughout the room and bathroom.

As we were getting settled in, we were served a welcome snack of rolled-up coconut crepes and some kind of iced tea. Both hit the spot, and at this point I was really, really happy we had gone with Sojourn. After unpacking a bit, we went down to the reception and met our local guide Naro. He and Sari took us into Siem Reap town, where we spent about an hour shopping for stuff at the Center Market. Afterward we were supposed to proceed to Angkor Wat to see the sun set over the temples (Sojourn had prepared a picnic basket for us, with wine and cheese and taro chips and salami) but the rain came pouring down, so we decided to go grab an early dinner at popular local restaurant Viroth's before returning to Sojourn.

We got back to the hotel to find the results of the turn-down service: our rooms had been tidied up, the window shades had been brought down, and there were thoughtful touches like chocolates on the bed and an aromatic oil burner on our dresser table. I thought to myself, Sojourn thinks of everything!

We decided to get in-room massages (Sojourn's "Origins" spa has yet to open). Our massage therapists were all great, soft-spoken but skilled, and obviously well-trained. We got the aromatherapy massages, which started with us sipping glasses of iced fruit juice as our feet were washed in tubs of hot water sprinkled with flower petals. Then we were allowed to choose among lavender, jasmine and frangipani oils (of course I went with my favorite, jasmine). The massage was pampering perfection from start to finish. I felt so good afterward, I actually wanted to hug my massage therapist.

We then went downstairs to use our dinner coupons, and had a veritable feast of Cambodian cuisine classics, like loc lac beef and chicken amok. It was the best meal not only of our trip, but the best meal we had in recent memory. We washed everything down with a surprisingly good bottle of red wine that had been in our sunset picnic basket.

The following morning, I opened our door and looked down on the floor to discover a tiny basket with an orchid and an orange wedge inside. That started my day with a smile. There was also a Sojourn newsletter, with helpful facts about Siem Reap, the day's weather forecast, news headlines and other activities guests could be interested in.

We had a hearty Sojourn breakfast (we could order anything and everything from the menu!) before heading out with Naro and Sari on our Angkor Wat adventure. Naro was very knowledgeable, was able to answer all our questions about not only Angkor Wat but Cambodian history and culture as well. At lunchtime, we unpacked the cooler Sojourn had prepared for us to find the custom-made sandwiches we had ordered, along with drinks AND more of those cold jasmine-scented towels (I think we were more happy to see the towels than the food!). I told my siblings we were being spoiled by this VIP treatment. After chowing down on the yummy sandwiches, we resumed our tour of the temples, with Naro alternately explaining their significance, pointing out vantage spots for photo ops, and patiently taking our photos repeatedly. It was a long, rainy but exhilarating day for us, and after the amazing experience that was Angkor Wat, it was wonderful to have Sojourn to return to for hot showers and a bit of rest before heading back to town for dinner at Sugar Palm.

On our last morning, we rose to find the sun was out, so we took advantage of the good weather and took a dip in Sojourn's pool. I liked the comfy poolside furniture, as well as the in-pool bar, which I always find cool. Too bad it was too early for drinks! After our swim, we had another delicious Sojourn breakfast (their lattes were European cafe-quality!), and lingered at the table soaking up the sunshine and savoring the sumptuous spread before us.

By the time we had to check out and leave for the airport, I was genuinely sad to go. I had so thoroughly enjoyed our stay at Sojourn that I would have wanted to extend for another day or 2 (or 10!). The facilities and amenities were lovely, the service was stellar), and the food was to die for. Sojourn exceeded all my expectations, and made our Cambodia vacation truly extra special and memorable. I cannot recommend this hotel highly enough to those who wish to take their Siem Reap stay to another level. Angkor Wat may be the main attraction, but Sojourn's the gem that will give your trip added value, and make your journey infinitely more significant than the destination.

Next to brilliant

2011-10-10T00:08:00.001+08:00

My former student Elfrida, a huge theater buff, had seen Atlantis' production of Next to Normal twice already and told me she still intended on watching it a third time. I was curious what it is exactly that she loves so much about the musical, and given that it's also a Pulitzer winner and a Tony Best Musical nominee, I decided to catch the "limited return engagement" this month. And I'm glad I did!

Next to Normal is not your typical song-and-dance musical, as it's about a family dealing with tragedy and mental illness. But in spite of the lack of choreography, it has all the other elements that make for a hit musical: a moving story, a beautiful score, and memorable lyrics. And though it's a drama, there are also well-placed nuggets of humor throughout that prevent it from getting too heavy.

There are only 6 characters in Next to Normal, but not for a moment did I miss the dynamic of a big ensemble cast. Stage vet Menchu Lauchengco plays Diana Goodman, a housewife battling bipolar disorder. Her vocals were predictably pitch-perfect, but it was her acting prowess that really wowed me. She was thoroughly convincing and compelling conveying Diana's various states of emotional upheaval: confusion, pain, elation, depression, rage, helplessness. Her fantastic range was best displayed in the songs "Didn't I See This Movie?" and "Maybe (Next to Normal)". Jett Pangan is Diana's devoted but weary husband Dan. His singing paled in comparison to Menchu's (particularly in their pre-intermission duet "A Light in the Dark"), but there was a lot of surprising depth and humanity in his portrayal of Dan's frayed patience and pained faithfulness.

Felix Rivera (by far my favorite Atlantis talent) and Bea Garcia fill the roles of Diana and Dan's kids, and both deftly delivered teenage angst and defiance in the face of their mother's condition, albeit in quite different ways. Felix had an almost menacing presence as the favored son, exuding resentment and a quiet rage while exercising a force over the rest of the family. His renditions of "I'm Alive" and "I'm Alive (Reprise)" were highlights for me. On the other hand, Bea (the lone standout in Atlantis' staging of Spring Awakening) seemed to channel s0me of Spring Awakening's rebellious energy into her part as the neglected daughter struggling to be little miss perfect. This sullen, uptight girl is offset nicely by Markki Stroem's Henry, an easygoing, good-natured stoner who becomes smitten with her. For a relative theater rookie, Markki's acting and singing were both pretty good; his duets with Bea (e.g. "Perfect for You") hit all the right sweet, tender notes. But I felt his voice could have used a bit more volume (and I also found it a bit distracting that it seemed I was looking at Chris and Charles' Tiu's long-lost brother, haha).

Rounding up the compact cast is Jake Macapagal as Dr. Madden, Diana's shrink. Jake was the least impressive of the 6, but he was engaging enough as the well-dressed, smooth-talking psychiatrist. Improved enunciation would help his future performances though.

All the characters (save for Dr. Madden, understandably) come off as achingly real in their imperfections, and their relationships all too relatable in their dysfunctions. I was moved to tears more than once-- "I Am the One (Reprise)" was the most heart-breaking scene for me, and showcased both Jett's and Felix's exceptional dramatic skills. It was at that moment I fully appreciated why Elfrida raves so much about Next to Normal. It's an entertaining musical, but more than that, it's a powerful play. And with the caliber of acting delivered by Atlantis' cast, it is a stirring, superb show.

In honor of an icon

2011-10-06T12:26:00.004+08:00

I'm not an Apple user. I don't own an iPhone nor an iPad, and I've never even used an iPod. But I have tremendous respect and admiration for Steve Jobs, and I was shocked and genuinely saddened to learn of his passing today. So I'm dedicating a bit of blog space to honor the memory of a visionary who revolutionized the world and changed a generation.

Out of thousands of Steve Jobs soundbites and quotable quotes, this is my favorite:

[Y]ou can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something-- your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

That bit of wisdom is made even more significant coming from a man who made such a difference in so many lives. And from someone best known as a proponent of modern technology, that kind of faith in the abstract, in the intangible, is almost poetic in its beauty.

Goodbye, Steve Jobs. iSalute you.

4 of 10: Le Bistro d'Agathe

2011-09-13T15:23:00.006+08:00

[This is the 4th restaurant review I'm doing for our binge bucket list series. Photos here.]

It was a small challenge finding Le Bistro d'Agathe, a hole-in-the-wall in Bangkal, Makati (former location of Fat Michael's). But the search was worth it, for the food turned out to be pretty darn good. Patrice Delobbe, the bistro's chef and proprietor, taking pity on us starving souls as we waited for our dining companions (who all had trouble finding the place), gave us a free sample of the meat terrine to tide us over. Spread on tasty slices of rye bread, the pork-and-liver terrine (described on the menu as "French meatloaf") was cold, crumbly and flavorful. I'm not a fan of creamy pates, so I actually enjoyed the rough texture of the terrine. Yang loved it so much she single-handedly polished off more than half before our friends arrived.

Everyone in our group opted for the set menu (choice of 1 appetizer, 1 entree, 1 dessert), price varying with the entree (range: P680-P890). Chef Patrice and the 2 efficient waitresses recommended some items from the deceptively simple menu. I say "deceptively" because while the dishes sound unimpressive in print, they are prepared and presented quite professionally. I went with the Soup of the Day (tomato basil), the Pepper Steak with Pan-fried Baby Potatoes, and the Apple Pie. Yang had the soup as well, the Tenderloin Steak with Blue Cheese Sauce, and the Chocolate Mousse.

I'm a sucker for a hearty tomato soup, and Chef Patrice's is chunky and comforting, fusing the mild tang of the tomatoes and the distinct aroma of basil to create a delicious, rustic potage. I don't think I should have emptied my bowl though, because I only had room left for half my steak, which was a crying shame as the meat was juicy and perfectly cooked (medium well is SO hard to achieve), and the pepper sauce was so good I could consume buckets of the stuff. Even the potatoes were good, and even though I was already full I still kept popping them in my mouth.

Yang also couldn't manage to finish her steak, in spite of enjoying it thoroughly, and when our plates got sent back to the kitchen the remnants alarmed Chef Patrice, who hurried out and asked what was wrong with the 2 unfinished steaks. I felt mortified, and we reassured him the steaks were fine, but we were just way too stuffed to take another bite.

But of course there's always room for dessert, and I left no trace of the apple pie on my plate. The pastry was flaky but firm, the apples crisp and the right balance of sweet and tart. I was so satisfied with it I didn't even find myself wishing it had come a la mode. I stole a small spoonful of Yang's chocolate mousse, which was smooth, dense and sweet, but not cloying. Tough call which was the superior dessert.

The only thing I found a bit off about Le Bistro d'Agathe was the location, which is not only hard to find but also felt unsafe. It's on a small street that's poorly lit at night, with no other commercial establishments nearby. The restaurant itself is small but cozy, and really looks like an authentic European bistro outside and inside. But it's very much out of place in Bangkal.

That said, we had a lovely time at Le Bistro d'Agathe-- we had the place to ourselves almost the entire evening, so it felt even more intimate and homey (although sometimes it was unnerving having Chef Patrice hovering around, probably checking if we were finishing our food, haha). Give it a try if you're looking for something besides the usual Makati joints. Le Bistro d'Agathe deserves at least one visit... but arm yourself with a map or GPS.

High marks for In the Heights

2011-09-05T16:50:00.002+08:00

After being let down by Atlantis' staging of Aida, I had my trepidations about their next production, the recent Broadway hit In the Heights. I'd heard so many raves about the musical during my last trip to New York that I was afraid it might not meet my expectations. In addition, I was watching on opening night, and I was worried there might be kinks that come with a first-time performance. Thankfully, Atlantis was in fine form this time around (they seem to do particularly well with large, boisterous ensemble casts), and I enjoyed the show from start to finish.

Most musicals, even the best ones, have parts where there's a slight dip in action, where things get a little bit slow, including the songs. But just like Avenue Q, In the Heights doesn't seem to have such a lull, even when the music slows down. From the rousing rap that kicks off the story to the joyful finale, the tempo of the play remains upbeat as the audience is given a glimpse into 3 eventful days in a lively Dominican neighborhood in Washington Heights, New York. The lead character is Usnavi (Nyoy Volante), an all-around nice guy who runs the corner bodega and dreams of someday returning to the Dominican Republic, his parents' homeland. He and his cousin Sonny (Bibbo Reyes) were raised in America by Abuela Claudia (Jay Glorioso), the kindly neighborhood matriarch. Usnavi is smitten with vivacious Vanessa (Ima Castro), who works in a beauty salon run by flamboyant gossip Daniela (Tex Ordonez). Meanwhile, Usnavi's buddy Benny (Felix Rivera), who works at the car service dispatch of Kevin and Camila Rosario (Calvin Millado and Jackie Lou Blanco, respectively), falls for the boss's daughter Nina (K-La Rivera), the pride of the barrio who made it into Stanford.

I've seen Nyoy Volante in 2 previous Atlantis musicals (Legally Blonde and Hairspray), but this performance in In the Heights eclipses them. I don't know if it's because his general look fit good-natured Usnavi to a T, but he made for a quite charming, loveable lead. Also, I was very impressed with his rapping skills, although sometimes I couldn't understand the lyrics because he was going machine-gun fast and "swallowing" some of the words. Ima Castro, who disappointed me in Aida, was pretty good as leading lady Vanessa, getting to show off both her solid singing and dancing skills. Ditto for my Atlantis favorite Felix Rivera, who is always a standout in any role. His chemistry with Nyoy, and more importantly with K-La Rivera, contributed to the great vibe of the show.

K-La was a revelation. My friends and I all agreed she was wonderful, with all the makings of a star. Her crystal-clear vocals had a purity to them similar to Lea Salonga's, her acting was very natural, and she's SO pretty (as Ria kept saying). But I thought the real scene-stealer was Bibbo Reyes, who earned the most laughs from the audience with his comedic portrayal of bumbling tough guy Sonny. I must also give props to Tex Ordonez for her seemingly effortless, flawless turn as Daniela, playing her like a sassier, Hispanic Fran Drescher.

Calvin Millado and Jackie Lou Blanco did all right in the roles of the protective parents, but I felt Jackie Lou's performance was a bit tentative and could have been more forceful, especially in the scenes where Camila lays down the law. But her singing voice was certainly pleasant enough (as Raqs pointed out, you wouldn't expect any less from Pilita Corales' daughter).

The music of In the Heights is more energetic than the usual Broadway soundtracks because it's infused with rap and salsa, and the choreography similarly features hiphop and Latin dances. Given that, I think younger audiences would better enjoy this musical, although more mature viewers might also appreciate the premise of immigrant culture and mentalities, plus the themes of home, belonging and self-actualization.

In the Heights is running until September 18, so you can still catch it at the Carlos P. Romulo Auditorium at the RCBC Plaza in Makati. It's a colorful, fun fiesta of a musical, and the spirit is deftly captured by this well-directed local production. It's nice to see Atlantis back at the top of their game with In the Heights.

3 of 10: Sweet Bella

2011-09-02T12:23:00.001+08:00

[This is the 3rd restaurant I'm reviewing from the "binge bucket list" my friend Yang and I drew up.]

I hate the color pink, but somehow the very pink interiors of Sweet Bella didn't repulse me as I entered the dining area on the second floor of the cute cafe in Burgos Circle. I actually chose a table with one of the fat pink couches and sank into it with the cozy feeling of having come home. Indeed, there's a very homey vibe to Sweet Bella, from the furniture down to the food. The menu is what I call simple chic, uncomplicated fare created with quality ingredients and presented prettily.

Yang suggested we try the Quatro Funghi pizza, a thin-crust pie with oyster, button, shitake, and winsu mushrooms. It turned out to be the best thing we ordered. The crust was crisp, the toppings generous, the cheese rich but not cloying. The combination of the 4 types of mushroom was earthy and tasty, leaving me half-wishing I hadn't ordered an entree so I could have had a second slice. Yang and Angelo split a seafood chowder, while I had the French onion soup. Yang said their soup was good, and was "light for a chowder". Mine was satisfying, but definitely not the best French onion soup I've had. The onions weren't caramelized enough, and the broth could have used a tad more onion flavor.

For entrees, Yang had the salpicao with garlic rice, Angelo had the "Cafe Monster Burger", and I, going on our server's recommendation, had the Spaghetti Amatriciana with Seafood. The salpicao was cooked perfectly, judging from the pink color inside each morsel of beef, and my carnivorous friend polished off everything on her plate. Angelo said his burger (which came with a poached egg instead of the usual fried) was ok, and I'm sorry I neglected to take a photo of its impressive size (we were so hungry I totally forgot to take photos until desserts). My pasta came in a big bowl, with the noodles cooked al dente, and adorned with 3 big mussels and lots of plump shrimp. I loved how the briny taste of the seafood mixed with the mild tomato sauce, and I didn't mind that as a whole the dish was a wee bit dry.

As if we hadn't stuffed ourselves silly yet by this point, we ordered 2 desserts to share: a lovely strawberry tart served with thick chocolate sauce, and Sweet Bella's famous creation, the Chocolata, described as "moist chocolate cake layered with rich ganache topped with chocolate glass". They were as divine as they looked, and we thoroughly enjoyed them paired with excellent coffee (a Nespresso latte for me) and tea (TWG Moroccan Mint for the Quimsons).

I only have 2 (minor) gripes about Sweet Bella. One is that the service was kinda... scattered. I guess it's understandable given that the waitresses have to keep going up and down the stairs, shuttling between the dining area and the kitchen. But oftentimes the dining area was left unmanned, and it would have been helpful if they had those little buzzers on the tables. Second complaint it that it's pretty pricey. The desserts especially are overpriced (P300+ for a small cake or pastry), and even with our 2 Cash Cash Pinoy coupons (good for P2,000), we still had to shell out a thousand bucks to cover our bill. Then again, considering we ate enough food to feed about 5 people, I guess it wasn't as exorbitant as it sounds. That's what we get for being gluttons!

Sweet Bella would be a nice place for an afternoon or evening hanging out with your girl friends, or for guys, it can be a cute place to bring a date for coffee and dessert (trust me, the cakes make a great impression!). It's everything you'd want in a cafe: cheery ambiance, comfy chairs, and of course, good food to share with good company.

Ice and Fire and insomnia

2011-08-31T17:36:00.000+08:00

I was severely sleep-deprived the whole month of June because I got insanely hooked on George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. I plowed through the first 3 books (A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords), downloaded and watched all 10 episodes of the HBO adaptation series Game of Thrones, and finished reading the 4th book, A Feast for Crows, in time for the July release of the 5th installment, A Dance with Dragons. I got to the epilogue about 2 weeks ago, and when I was done, I wanted to tear my hair out at the thought that it might take years until the 6th book comes out. I am so caught up in the story and so enamored of the characters, it's crazy. Not since Harry Potter have I been this emotionally invested in a literary series.

A Song of Ice and Fire is the sweeping saga of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, set in an ancient time of sorcery and mythical beasts: direwolves, snow zombies, mammoths, changelings, and of course, dragons. But above all, it's an epic tale of human foibles and failings, lusts and loves, faiths and feuds, ambitions and aberrations. Martin populates his universe with kings, queens, knights, warriors, squires, pages, maesters, septons, sellswords, eunuchs, whores, bastards-- highborn or low, everyone is flawed, but no one is beyond redemption either. Moreover, no one is SAFE from Martin's merciless pen, as he ruthlessly writes off characters, even important and beloved ones, with abrupt, shocking deaths. As a result, though part of a genre that's normally steeped in the abnormal, Ice and Fire has a brutal realism to it. There's that wonderful humanity yes, and it's easy to fall in love with the characters, but there's nothing sentimental about Martin's work.

People like comparing Martin's Ice and Fire with J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy, but with all due respect to the great Tolkien, I find Martin's work much more enjoyable, not only because it's infinitely more reader-friendly (Tolkien could cure an insomniac with a couple of pages), but also because it has far stronger characterization. While LOTR is quest-centric, Ice and Fire is egocentric in that it really focuses on the people in the story. Tolkien uses up paragraphs to describe every tree and rock and blade of grass the Fellowship of the Ring pass on their way to Mordor; Martin takes great pains to describe a knight's cloak in detail: the color, the material, the trim, the length, all the way down to the shape of the clasp and what metal it's made of (and sometimes it's not even a knight with a significant role). In this way, each player in the story comes alive through vividly painted verbal portraits, and it is so easy to not only identify, but identify WITH the characters.

At the heart of Ice and Fire are the major houses or families involved in the power struggle for the Iron Throne, the ruling seat of the Seven Kingdoms. The Starks of Winterfell are central figures throughout the series, and are generally perceived to be the good guys, while the Lannisters of Casterly Rock are the baddies. But I hesitate to label anyone as an outright villain, because as I mentioned already, no one is absolutely evil or purely good in Martin's universe (well, maybe except for a handful of truly deranged psychos). My favorites come from different houses, and some only grew on me after 2 or 3 books. I will not enumerate them here for fear of spoiling anyone's reading experience (i.e. revealing which characters are still alive by book 5), suffice it to say some have already been made to kick the bucket by their heartless creator (boo!).

Besides, the true enemy in Ice and Fire isn't a particular house, but "the Others", undead creatures that walk the wintery woods beyond the Wall, a formidably high structure erected to keep unwanted elements out of Westeros. However, since the humans are busy playing their game of thrones, the real threat to the kingdoms mounts unheeded as winter (and in Westeros winter can last years) draws nearer.

Even with this otherworldly touch, as well as some other supernatural/occult elements, Martin's landmark series is still firmly grounded in the harsh realities of humanity, and I often forget that I'm reading something from the fantasy genre. In spite of the medieval setting, the themes, particularly the politics, are very modern. Thus, the appeal to modern readers, even non-fans of fantasy lit, is understandable. And so damn irresistible.

I cannot rave enough about A Song of Ice and Fire, so I'd better stop myself here before I go on a full-blown fangirl gushfest. My parting shot would be that I strongly recommend people to read the books prior to watching the HBO series in order to get a better appreciation of Martin's creation, which translates so well into television but is infinitely richer in text. Then again, if you value your sleep, perhaps it would be wiser not to pick up any of Martin's books at all. I've still got the eyebags to prove it.

Heart of a hero

2011-08-08T00:21:00.001+08:00

I'll come right out and say it: Captain America: The First Avenger is my favorite of all the Avengers movies. Iron Man rocked, Thor kicked ass, but Captain America blew me away. In my opinion, it's the most well-rounded and well-made of the trio (I'm not counting Iron Man 2), and as much as the film critic-wannabe in me tried to find fault with it, I just found myself simply enjoying it.

And maybe it's precisely because in spite of the summer blockbuster treatment and all the Avengers hype, Captain America is at the core a simple movie-- and very much in a positive way. There's a wonderfully old-school feel to it, not only because it's set in the 40s, not only thanks to the gorgeous almost-sepia tones of the cinematography, but more vitally due to the smooth, straightforward storytelling. Scrappy, scrawny kid transforms into super soldier, socks it to the bad guys, and gets the girl-- who doesn't love a good ol' underdog tale (pun not intended)? This is the rare comic book film adaptation that doesn't use CGI and special effects as a crutch or diversionary tactic; in fact it's remarkably easy to overlook or even ignore the visual bells and whistles because the story by itself is so engaging.

Even the romantic angle of the plot is developed in a natural, non-cheesy manner. It helps that the character of Steve Rogers is so gosh-darn likeable, and it's easy to believe that any girl could fall for him... once he gets incredible pecs and abs. But of course the whole point is that it's what's inside that ripped bod that matters most, and Rogers' earnest determination, patriotism, and courage are conveyed surprisingly well by Chris Evans. I say "surprisingly" because before this, I strongly associated him with his role as the annoyingly smarmy Human Torch from the Fantastic Four films. As Captain America, Evans is subtle, sympathetic, and sincere-- quite different from Robert Downey Jr.'s wry Tony Stark and Chris Hemsworth's intense Thor (and the contrast bodes well for the upcoming Avengers movie).

But it's in the scenes where Evans plays the still-skinny, sickly Steve Rogers that he truly shines. Without spoiling anything for anyone who hasn't watched Captain America yet (although I saw it late enough as it is), I can say the best moment of the entire movie for me was the grenade scene, where Rogers is at boot camp under the command of gruff Col. Philips (Tommy Lee Jones). The scene is uncomplicated but smart, funny yet serious, and truly touching, all at the same time. It's brilliant, and exemplifies the spirit of not only the eponymous protagonist, but also the entire movie.

And may I just say how nice it is to see Tommy Lee Jones in action again? I've always thought of him as the quintessential supporting actor since The Fugitive, and in Captain America he is a welcome presence as the sarcastic, no-nonsense authority figure that is his bread and butter. Another talented actor tackling a tailor-made role is Hugo Weaving, as the villain Red Skull a.k.a. Johann Schmidt. It's hard to picture anyone else playing (and looking) the part as perfectly as he does. Props too to the ever-reliable Stanley Tucci for bringing a gentle humor and humanity to Dr. Erskine, who is instrumental in transforming Rogers into Cap. I loved Dominic Cooper as Howard Stark, looking every inch like Tony's dad, mustache and all, but I did expect more witty one-liners as befitting a Stark. But of all the supporting players, I was most impressed with leading lady Hayley Atwell. She was the pleasant surprise of the movie for me (second to Evans). As Peggy Carter, she treads the fine line between femme fatale and eye candy with the right amount of grace and self-awareness, and as a result I had no trouble swallowing the idea that someone who looks like a pin-up girl could be a strong, capable army officer (whereas I still snicker at the notion of Blake Lively flying a fighter plane and running an aeronautics corporation).

Captain America delivers on all fronts: casting, acting, cinematography, screenplay, special effects, costumes, props (how awesome does Cap's shield look with those realistic scratches on the surface?) and set design are all excellent. It's an entertaining movie, a solid "origins" film, and a respectable comic book adaptation. Above all, like its hero, Captain America has a whole lot of heart. And ultimately, that's what what makes a story-- and a hero-- simply super.

2 of 10: Korea Garden

2011-07-29T00:35:00.001+08:00

They say quality counts more than quantity. Tonight, Yang and I got both at Korea Garden. The second restaurant to be crossed off our binge bucket list, this establishment along Jupiter Street isn't much to look at from the outside, but the food served inside is a lot to be happy about-- in terms of portions and palatability.

We availed of the Deal Grocer coupon for a set dinner for two, comprised of Korea Garden's best-selling dishes. The coupon said up to 3 people could partake of the food, so Yang and I dragged Angelo with us to help consume everything. The spread included rice, soup, kalbi chim (Korean beef stew), beef bulgogi, chap chae (stir-fried glass noodles), nakchi bokum (spicy octopus), and mandu (Korean dumplings). Being the ravenous carnivores we are, we also got an additional order of barbequed beef ribs, which our effusive waiter declared as very good. When he put all our food on the table, starting with the traditional array of side dishes (ranging from kimchi to bean sprouts to dilis), and ending with the beef ribs, there was barely enough surface area left for the extra bowl of rice Angelo ordered (see photographic proof here).

And he needed that rice because everything was just SO good. My favorite was the kalbi chim. The sauce was that perfect balance of sweet and savory, the beef was fork-tender, and I would have been happy with just that and rice. The other 2 beef dishes were also great-- the ribs had a wonderful smoky flavor, and the bulgogi, which I initially found dry, was improved vastly when I remembered to spoon some sauce over it. The mandu was panfried to perfection, and stuffed with generous meat filling. I prefer my chap chae a bit sweeter, but the smooth, chewy noodles contrasted well with the crunchy veggies mixed in. I passed on the nakchi bokum, but based on Yang's ecstatic eye-rolling (yes, Yang, you roll your eyes when you're enjoying your food :p) as she and Angelo polished off the octopus, it was as good as everything else on our loaded table.

I don't know if it was because we had been starving, but Korea Garden really hit the spot. The interior is very plain, and strangely the ambiance has no Korean touches, but the food is authentic, and undeniably delicious. We were stuffed silly, and certainly satisfied with the second restaurant crossed off our binge bucket list.

Parting with Pulse

2011-07-24T00:01:00.000+08:00

I received a text message from Pulse Yoga yesterday morning informing me that their Greenhills studio will be closing at the end of July. Although I'd been forewarned about the impending closure, I still felt a twinge of sadness reading the official announcement. I've come to love Pulse in the year and a half I've been practicing yoga; it's become a peaceful haven for me away from the mad world that is my life, a place where I can still my mind and heart, and from where I always emerge feeling more relaxed and centered. I admit though that Pulse has never been the same since they moved from their lovely Florida Street studio with the high ceilings and ample parking to the noisy Intrawest Building on parking-problematic Annapolis Street. Regardless of that, I will really miss it.

I will especially miss my new favorite instructor Marc, who only started teaching a couple of months ago. Ever since I started attending his Hatha 2 class (I didn't even know it was Hatha 2 until I was several sessions in), I've progressed very quickly, thanks to his cheerful encouragement and guidance. I still consider myself a yoga newbie, but Marc has helped me improve my flexibility, balance and alignment. My downward-facing dog is deeper, my shoulder stand is straighter, my warriors are stronger, and I've learned advanced asanas (postures) like the crane, the reclining angle pose (supta konasana), and even the dreaded headstand.

And now I only have 2 sessions left with Marc before Pulse Greenhills closes its doors. I have a bad feeling whatever progress I've made in the past few months will be undone once I part ways with Marc, and I wish I could follow him to whatever studio he'll move to. Unfortunately, because I leave the office past 6:30 every evening, I can only transfer to a studio that offers evening classes within the Greenhills area.

The good news is, Bliss Yoga, the yoga studio my friend Yang goes to in Makati, will be opening a branch in Greenhills, RIGHT BEHIND OUR HOUSE (read: no need for parking!!!). But that won't be 'til September, so I shall be a shala-less yogi for at least a month, and I need to keep limber in the meantime. I am actually considering the lame (according to my sister) yoga classes at Fitness First just to tide me over. I'm also going to try practicing at home, assuming I can find a quiet, uninterrupted hour to do so. I just don't want to be all stiff (and fat) by the time Bliss opens.

I'm hoping the instructors at Bliss will be as good or even better than Marc (or maybe I should just tell him to apply to teach at Bliss). Yoga's become an important and beloved part of my life, my main source of physical exercise and mental relaxation, and as I say goodbye to the place where I discovered it, I look forward to developing and deepening my practice in a new haven.

Harry's last hurrah

2011-07-19T01:01:00.001+08:00

The final Harry Potter movie's out and making millions in Muggle currencies, and a generation who grew up with Harry and his friends is waxing sentimental over bidding goodbye to J.K. Rowling's well-loved characters. Indeed, the pervading HP separation anxiety seems even more overwhelming than the response 4 years ago to the book Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the latter half of which is the basis for the 8th HP film. I find it puzzling, really, since I was a hundred times more affected by the book, but I guess I have to take into account some people only watched the movies and never read the series. Also, whereas I regarded Book 7 to be the end of everything, there are Potterheads who consider the film adaptations an extended lease on life for Harry and company, so Movie 8 is the official end-of-everything for them.

Personally, Movie 8 was a wee bit of a letdown for me. Now, I'm treading carefully here, as I believe by virtue of its pop cultural significance Deathly Hallows Part 2 deserves to be reviewed with respect. But I was expecting more emotional impact from the conclusion to the story of the world's most recognizable boy wizard. After all, this movie features the epic battle at Hogwarts, so vividly narrated in Rowling's book it left this reader breathless and in tears. And it is the ultimate showdown between Harry and the Dark Lord Voldemort, which should be right up there with Luke versus Palpatine, or Frodo versus Sauron. However, DH2 just lacks that oomph. While I admit I got misty-eyed during certain scenes, there were no full waterworks. I think it was because the film doesn't linger enough on the more powerful moments, for the simple reason it couldn't afford to-- there is way too much material to cram into 2 hours and 10 minutes. That has always been the problem with the HP franchise, as I pointed out in my review of Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince: the books do not translate well into film, as their scope and detail are too vast.

That said, DH2 is actually a relatively adequate film adaptation, particularly as the last of a series, as it wraps things up rather neatly. No loose ends are left, even if many elements from the source material had to be sacrificed. All the key characters, even the baddies, are lovingly-- though some far too fleetingly-- portrayed, giving me the sense that I was being allowed to say a proper goodbye to each. And the actors, particularly the supporting cast, have never been better. With regard to the main trio, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson have obviously grown into and with their roles over the past decade (Hermione even shows some cleavage in this one). Radcliffe, perhaps benefiting from his stint on Broadway, shows marked improvement conveying Harry's heavier emotions like pain and fear. Grint's Ron does have one over-the-top hammy moment, but I can forgive him that because he pulls off the best ugly-cry in the whole movie. Watson as Hermione is wonderfully reliable (if a tad boring) as always, but unfortunately her most memorable scene is the one where she's taken on the form of the mad witch Bellatrix LeStrange, and it's actually Helena Bonham-Carter playing Hermione playing Bellatrix.

Which highlights all the more that as in the previous 7 movies, the really remarkable acting in DH2 is delivered by the veterans, a veritable who's who list of British thespians. And it's precisely these polished performances that have kept the film franchise credible on top of commercially viable. Ralph Fiennes is nothing but magnificent as Voldemort: evil oozed from every miniscule movement, every sibilant syllable, every lethal look. Forget the facial prosthetics and makeup, it's Fiennes' talent that makes He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named truly terrifying. As mentioned, Bonham-Carter is a fabulous scene-stealer as Bellatrix, while Michael Gambon is effortlessly flawless as the deceased Albus Dumbledore. Most reviewers tend to overlook Jason Isaacs, but I found him outstanding in his portrayal of Lucius Malfoy as diminished but still haughtily dignified, and scared shitless but too proud to show it. The regal Maggie Smith has an utterly adorable moment of levity as they usually stern Professor McGonagall ("I've always wanted to use that spell!"), and Julie Walters shines in one brief but badass scene as Mrs. Weasley.

But if I were handing out a Harry Potter Oscar, it would definitely go to Alan Rickman. Oh, Alan Rickman. I will forever adore this man, this sleazy/sexy man who has made Severus Snape the most Shakespearean of all of Rowling's characters, imbuing him with depth and soul. Rickman is so bloody perfect as Snape, I can't even say he was born for this role-- it seems as though the character was written with him in mind. Snape's most triumphant scenes in DH2 come in a sequence of flashbacks, and Rickman runs through several levels of anger and anguish in a matter of mere minutes. It is beautifully heart-breaking to watch, at once touching and tragic, and validates Snape as the most intriguing, and most achingly human figure in not only DH2, but the whole HP series.

DH2 will get positive reviews from pretty much everyone, not so much because it's a stellar movie, but because it achieves its primary purpose of providing closure. It's like a big warm farewell hug, and who doesn't like hugs? More critically though, DH2 will be appreciated as a final reminder of everything we loved about the Harry Potter universe from the beginning. For those of us who discovered the HP series as adults, we loved it so much because it made us kids all over again. Harry brought magic into our lives, and we regained that sense of wonder and enchantment we thought we'd already lost. Now, with this final film, everything has come to a close, and with Harry and his friends all grown up, we go back to being grown-ups. And maybe that's why there's so much sentimental reaction to Deathly Hallows Part 2. It's not that we can't let go-- we're just going to miss the magic.

Unelaborate, unenchanting

2011-07-14T17:12:00.002+08:00

Atlantis' staging of Elton John and Tim Rice's Aida was not the spectacle I was hoping it would be. Maybe it's because anything with Sir Elton's name attached to it evokes images of rhinestones and sequins and neon, but I expected more visual impact than what was rather starkly laid out on the Carlos P. Romulo auditorium stage. The sets failed to evoke the golden grandeur of ancient Egypt, the costumes were oddly too modern, and even the performances were lackluster.

The only bright light in an otherwise dim production was Rachel Alejandro, cast in the role of Amneris, the Egyptian princess whose betrothed, the dashing captain Rademes, falls in love with the Nubian princess-turned-slave and eponymous heroine Aida. Ima Castro played the latter, and while her impressive vocal prowess was more than capable of taking on all the big songs with the big notes (particularly in the rousing pre-intermission number "The Gods Love Nubia"), she was just not convincing as the strong-willed, fiery Aida. Perhaps she lacked the regal bearing of a Nubian princess, or was a tad too... chunky to portray one, but all throughout I saw nothing that would make me believe a handsome Egyptian officer would choose her over a beautiful Egyptian princess. Indeed, in spite of her ditziness, Amneris came off as the more interesting of the two women: what she lacked in brains she made up for in charm, as well as an innate goodness and surprisingly, character. That was largely thanks to Ms. Alejandro's verve and strong stage presence. Just as she shone in Avenue Q, she was a joy to watch in Aida.

As for Myke Salomon, who lent his pipes and pecs to Rademes, he had only one facial expression (see above photo) throughout the entire show. Whether he was conveying joy, shock, anger, or regret, it was all the same unblinking, constipated look. I know he was trying to go for smoldering or intense, but he only ended up appearing petrified and pinched. Dude can sing, but couldn't act his way out of his army jacket. This was most apparent in the more upbeat song "Fortune Favors the Brave", which he sang well, but could have elevated with more energy.

The supporting cast was not much better. I had been looking forward to seeing Rachel share the stage with her dad Hajji Alejandro, but Mr. Alejandro did not have his daughter's commanding presence, nor her powerful vocal ability. Playing Rademes' ambitious, scheming father, Hajji should have been forceful and intimidating. Sadly, he was rather mild, and almost mechanical. Also, his weak voice got swallowed up by the soaring music of his numbers ("Another Pyramid", "Like Father, Like Son"). On the other hand, Josh Santana gave a very raw, almost juvenile performance as Mereb, one of Rademes' Nubian servants. Mereb came off as an eager beaver rather than the street-smart go-to guy he's supposed to be. I spotted talented Atlantis regular Felix Rivera (whom I really liked in both Avenue Q and The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee) in the chorus (WTH was he doing in the CHORUS?) and wistfully wished he had been cast as Mereb instead.

All the disappointing performances, coupled with the poor art direction, led me to wondering what the original Broadway production must have been like. And that's very telling, because whenever I watch an excellent local production of a Broadway play, I don't feel compelled to compare with an "imported" version. Aida left me wanting.

What I did enjoy about Aida was the music. The whole sound and feel of the musical was very much Elton John; I could practically hear him singing and banging away on his piano in most of the songs, especially in "Elaborate Lives", "Written in the Stars" and "I Know the Truth" (the latter reminded me of Elton John's pop classic "Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word"). "The Gods Love Nubia" had both a gospel and African feel to it, reminiscent of The Lion King (music and lyrics also by Elton John and Tim Rice), and come to think of it, the jaunty "Another Pyramid" sounded suspiciously similar to "Hakuna Matata".

Aida's posters tout it as a "timeless love story", and it is very much that, with all the requisite elements (i.e. star-crossed lovers, a love triangle, difficult choices and tragic sacrifices). I guess it's nice that in an age of cynicism, there are still stories about passion that defies sociopolitical constructs, heroes man enough to fight for the women they love, and heroines strong enough to risk liberty (and life) to stay true to their hearts. Aida is just that kind of story-- if only Atlantis had done a better job of telling it.

1 of 10: 2nd's

2011-07-11T15:35:00.008+08:00

Last weekend, Yang and I got to try one of the 10 restaurants on our binge bucket list, 2nd's. We were in the High Street area (having come from the I'm Shoe in Love bazaar at the NBC Tent, & TGIFriday's where we watched the Ateneo-Adamson game), so we chose to stay in the neighborhood and have dinner at the restaurant that replaced Mag:net (beside Agave and across Cav).

The foyer on the ground floor is nondescript, almost shabby, as are the stairs and elevator leading up to the establishment. However, once one reaches the 2nd floor and pulls open the heavy wooden door to 2nd's, there's no mistaking it for anything but a "nice" restaurant, with an ambiance suitable for dates or intimate gatherings with friends. The interiors are streamlined and chic, but inviting and comfy at the same time. And the acoustics are fantastic, the usual cacophony of silverware, glassware, and dozens of conversations found in most restaurants is filtered and muted here.

2nd's servers give off an air of quiet competence (even in the way one waiter handled my camera as he took a group photo of us). You get the feeling these are servers who give reliable recommendations, so I asked ours if I should get the Truffled Mac N' Cheese or the Red Horse Fish and Chips, and he suggested I go with the latter. No regrets there, I thoroughly enjoyed my entree. I could distinctly taste the beer in the batter, but it didn't overpower the flavor of the tender barramundi fillet. The spiced fries were dangerously good, I could polish off a mountain of those things. I had to place the oversized cup in the center of the table to fight the temptation to finish the lot by myself.

Yang had the Three Little Pigs Kawali, a whimsical name for a sinful entree of crispy pork belly and foie gras nuggets. She was very happy with her food, but also happy enough to share with the rest of us, which was just as well since the pork belly and goose liver combination was so rich (and oozing with cholesterol!). We all also stole bites off her husband Angelo's plate of Mushroom Risotto, a delectable dish made with 3 kinds of mushrooms, truffle oil and balsamic vinegar. The generous serving portion was impressive too.

Our newly betrothed friends Ria and Carlo shared the Seabass Sinigang and Beef Rib Adobo. Ria declared both satisfactory, and she remarked on the novelty of using seabass in a sinigang, but she did say the vegetables used weren't well-suited for the sour soup. The adobo struck me as rather ordinary, if only because it was the most ignored dish on the table. Then again, Ria and Carlo's plates were clean at the end of the meal.

The desserts were a hit for everyone, particularly the Pinkerton ice cream Yangelo and I ordered. We got a scoop each of the available flavors: Red Velvet, S'mores, and Apple Pie. They were all yummy beyond belief. I didn't get to sample Ria and Carlo's Leche Flan Turon a la Mode, but the plate looked pretty as a picture. Speaking of which, for more photos of our dinner at 2nds, head on over here.

Overall, 2nd's was a delightful dining experience, and a great start to our binge bucket list. Everything from the atmosphere to the food to the service felt polished, and though the place touts itself as serving "comfort food", it's a refined kind of comfort, and I can't think of another restaurant that successfully pulls that off. In spite of its name, 2nd's is definitely first class.

Making light of Dark of the Moon

2011-07-03T00:32:00.000+08:00

The first thing you need to know about Transformers: Dark of the Moon is that it's long, and needlessly so. At 2 hours and 34 minutes (and given that I caught a 10PM screening), the third Transformers movie feels interminable, especially considering there's not much of a plot. The Decepticons attempt to take over Earth, the Autobots try to stop them. Almost 2 hours into the movie, I turned to my viewing companion and muttered, "For an intelligent, technologically advanced alien race, it sure is taking them a long time to destroy Earth."

However, the upside is that DOTM does not suck as much as its predecessor, ROTF (Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen). With big, loud action blockbusters like the Transformers movies, lack of a substantial plot is not only expected, but is sometimes preferable over TOO much plot, which ROTF suffered from. At times, DOTM plays out like a haphazard sequence of events, disjointed much like Green Lantern was. But to its credit, DOTM is more of a crowd-pleaser than GL (although maybe it's because it requires less IQ points to appreciate). Moreover, mercifully, compared to ROTF, Sam Witwicky's lameass loopy parents get far less screentime (really, they shouldn't even have been in this one).

I must give credit to Shia LeBeouf, whose third turn as Sam Witwicky is more animated and engaging than ever. The guy is definitely a character-- take note, I don't mean he HAS character, I'm saying he IS one. But I'm not knocking him for it; in fact, I admire how his expressiveness and natural comic talent are strong enough to anchor such a large-scale production as Transformers (he's like a white Will Smith). Also, LeBeouf's onscreen chemistry with new leading lady/substitute sexpot Rosie Huntington-Whitely is an improvement over his strained rapport with Megan Fox in ROTF, although at the start it's a bit hard to swallow that someone who looks like Huntington-Whitely would ever go for an unemployed loser like Sam.

Huntington-Whitely reminds me of a poutier Cameron Diaz, with an English accent. Playing Sam's girlfriend Carly, the Victoria's Secret supermodel is not as awful as critics have panned, and is marginally less annoying than Megan Fox, but is definitely not winning any Oscars in her lifetime. However, she fulfills the primary purpose of looking smokin' in skin-tight, cleavage-baring outfits. And I have mad respect for a girl who can run through armageddon in stilettos. As always, Michael Bay doesn't bother to tone down his sexist treatment of women; he's so unapologetic and in-your-face about it that it's almost too ridiculous to be offensive. In one scene, Carly, clad in a very short, very tight dress, unfolds her mile-long legs and climbs out of a car, and there is a tabloid-worthy upskirt shot that is so brazen, for a split-second I forgot to be scandalized.

I think I was more scandalized by the colossal waste of John Malkovich's talent. Playing Sam's eventual employer, Malkovich gets some cheap laughs treading that fine line between crazy and creepy. But it's sad how someone as awesome as Malkovich seems to be content being relegated to the role of lovable loon, just like the last role I saw him take on in the spy caper RED.

The other members of the supporting cast play their parts adequately, with few standouts. Josh Duhamel and Tyrese Gibson, reprising their roles as military men Lennox and Epps bring more testosterone to an already overly macho movie. Patrick Dempsey is serviceable but pretty bland as Carly's dashing, wealthy boss. Frances McDormand gives an effortless performance as the shrewish (Michael Bay's a sexist AND a misogynist) "National Intelligence Director". And John Turturro easily slips back into the character of kooky Agent Simmons (I don't even recall what happened to Simmons in ROTF so I was puzzled as to why he is depicted as ridiculously rich in DOTM). Oddly enough, the most engaging of the secondary characters is Simmons' right-hand man Dutch, brought to life by an enthusiastic Alan Tudyk. Dutch earned the most titters from the audience, and I enjoyed his comic presence more than any of the other supporting players'. But the most special human participation comes from a cameo by Buzz Aldrin (yes, the real astronaut Buzz Aldrin). It's a pleasantly surprising, classy touch in a movie that harbors no pretensions of having any class.

But as in the first 2 Transformers movies, the Autobots are the real stars, and rightfully so. The best action sequences of the movie are those involving Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Ironhide, et al. There's also a goosebump-inducing moment where the Autobots, in vehicle form, dramatically roll down a road, single-file, and it's the one instance that evoked fond childhood memories of the cartoon series. Sadly though, poor Megatron (not as menacing with half his face falling off) doesn't get sufficient screentime, in my opinion. You'd think the chief baddie who's masterminding the diabolical plan to take over the planet would get more exposure (and Hugo Weaving would get more lines). Thankfully, it's made up for with the introduction of Autobot Sentinel Prime, voiced by none other than Leonard Nimoy. As soon as I recognized the distinct voice, I decided there was no way I'd hate this movie no matter how flawed it is. The Nimoy factor will surely send Trekkers (like yours truly) into paroxysms of geek delight, and there's even the cheeky use of a famous Star Trek line that true Trekkers would catch at once, plus a quick glimpse of a Star Trek episode "where Spock goes nuts".

Aside from banking heavily on star power, special effects and (literally) explosive scenes, DOTM relies on obvious, occasionally cheap comedy to move things along (Ken Jeong of The Hangover fame contributes to this). But if you were to scrutinize the screenplay, the writing is what's truly laughable. I couldn't help but be amused by the unintentional hilarity of the implausible plot points and wannabe-witty one-liners. My favorite bit in the entire movie is when Lennox (Duhamel) commands his men to set their sights on the "cupola" housing the enemy's key weapon. The word "cupola" just seems absurdly incongruous in a film with more shrapnel than sense; I half-expected Lennox's troops to give him blank looks and ask what the hell a cupola is.

All things considered, Transformers: Dark of the Moon is entertaining in spite of the lengthy running time, and if you go in maintaining a sense of humor and willing suspension of disbelief (seriously, suspend it), AND bearing in mind this is a Michael Bay film, it can be a fun, brainless wild ride. With a really hot chick.

P.S. Was it just me, or is DOTM's opening sequence either an homage to or a rip-off of the climactic scene in the Battle of Yavin from Star Wars?

The binge bucket list

2011-06-29T17:35:00.003+08:00

My dear friend Yang and I have many common passions: we are both stalwart supporters of the Ateneo Blue Eagles, we have a shared love of bags and shoes, and we are enthusiastic foodies (especially where red meat is concerned!). Last week, we hatched a crazy/brilliant idea to come up with a "binge bucket list" of 10 restaurants we haven't been to, and to try them all before the year ends.

Here's our list (in no particular order):

As a record of our gastronomic odyssey, I shall write and post reviews of each establishment as we go down (or up) the list. Hopefully we manage to go to all 10, and hopefully we find good eats in all of them, because this endeavor shall require me to put in extra time at the yoga studio, and it better be worth the effort!

Tea-rrific

2011-06-27T00:23:00.005+08:00

Milk tea a.k.a. bubble tea is apparently the latest food craze to hit the Philippines, and just as frozen yogurt stalls mushroomed all over the metro in the last couple of years (Red Mango is still the one to beat in that category, IMHO), vacuum-sealed plastic cups punctured by fat straws are now seen everywhere. This is actually bubble tea's second coming, as it once took the country by storm in the late 90s, during the mad, glorious reign of Zagu and its successor Quickly (many of my college group projects were fueled by scary volumes of Quickly's mixed pudding). Now, over a decade later, there are more sophisticated milk tea drinks for more sophisticated palates-- fewer powder-based, food coloring-enhanced concoctions that cloy (or clog) the throat, and more (supposedly) healthier tea-based beverages with customizable sweetness levels and a variety of add-ons aside from the ubiquitous black tapioca pearls.

Foreign franchises like China's Happy Lemon and Taiwan's Cha Time are currently the darlings of the milk tea party, along with local concept Serenitea. A little over 2 years ago I wrote a review of Serenitea, when it was still fairly new and unknown; now it's practically a household name amongst milk tea junkies. While I love Happy Lemon's novelty drinks (Crispy Cocoa Milk Tea with Brown Sugar Jelly being my favorite), I find Serenitea superior in terms of tea quality (and really, it should be all about the tea), which is why I've always considered it the best milk tea chain around... until I discovered FruiTea Mix.

FruiTea Mix is located right beside Japanese convenience store and ramen joint Konbini along Connecticut in Greenhills. The first 2 times I bought drinks (Premium Milk Tea and Roasted Milk Tea) from FruiTea Mix, I was satisfied, but not blown away. I remember thinking the quality of the tea rivaled but didn't beat Serenitea's, and I preferred the latter's firmer, less gloopy pearls. But then last week, I tried FruiTea Mix's Jasmine Milk Tea, and with one sip, Serenitea slid to second place. The jasmine flavor was twice as intense as Serenitea's, with the milk enhancing but not overpowering the tea.At 50% sugar level, the pearls provided a touch of sweetness without compromising the taste of the tea. And like I said, it's really all about the tea.

I've also sampled FruiTea Mix's Royal Milk Tea, and the flavor of the earl grey was much more prominent than Serenitea's version. The latest drink I had was the Wintermelon Milk Tea, and though I found it way too sweet (the sugar level can't be adjusted since they use the wintermelon syrup to sweeten), again the tea was still stronger than what's used in Serenitea's own Wintermelon Milk Tea. Based on all the drinks I've sampled so far, I can only presume FruiTea Mix uses either better or more tea. Either way, they offer more value for money. The average prices of their milk teas are P95 for medium and P105 for large, which falls within the same price range as Serenitea's.

Serenitea does still beat FruiTea Mix in one aspect: Serenitea is more generous with their "sinkers" or add-ons (e.g. pearls, jelly, pudding, etc.), and they have more variety. As for quality, FruiTea Mix's pearls are ok, but they're smaller than and not as firm as Serenitea's. FruiTea Mix's "black bricks" (coffee jelly) are chewier than Serenitea's, but nowhere as good as Happy Lemon's brown sugar jelly. A complete list of their add-ons and drinks can be found on the City Delivery website.

I'm surprised FruiTea Mix is always empty whenever we pass by, and I hope it gets a larger following soon, because it would be a pity if it closes given that it's actually as good, if not better, than Serenitea. So to all you milk tea addicts out there, especially those who fancy themselves tea connoisseurs, give FruiTea Mix a try, and see how it matches up against the rest and the best of the milk tea shops.

Lowlights from the Lantern

2011-06-21T12:19:00.012+08:00

I confess I'm not familiar with the whole Green Lantern comic mythology, but I strongly suspect the recently released film adaptation didn't do it justice, considering the richness of the source material. Overall, it felt like Green Lantern was given a very shallow treatment, from the opening "once upon a time" voice narration all the way down to the fast and flimsy way in which the villain was dispatched. More critically, as an origins movie, it failed in its primary purpose to give a clear picture of not only how a superhero came to be, but also WHY.

Sadly, even after an hour and 45 minutes of Ryan Reynolds making puppy dog eyes at Blake Lively and the camera, the movie doesn't satisfactorily explain why of all the people on Earth, Hal Jordan was chosen to become a Green Lantern (because Bruce Wayne was already busy being Batman?). Hal's characterization follows the formula of reckless rogue with a heart of gold, but his mandatory moment of redemption isn't clearly defined. What exactly prompts his transformation from irresponsible lout to noble hero? There appears to be no trigger, no catalyst, even after he spends the first half of the film struggling with the psychological scars left by the death of his father, a hometown hero who perished in an accident. Not even his relationship with co-pilot and the boss' daughter Carol Ferris seems substantial enough to inspire the sudden change of heart. One minute Hal's telling the Green Lantern Corps he's not up to the task, the next he's already manned up and pleading the Guardians of the Universe to help him save his planet from the fear-feeding entity Parallax.

From start to finish, the whole plot feels disjointed, even choppy. There's a sweet but totally superfluous scene at Hal's nephew's birthday party. There's the obligatory too-short training sequence where Hal goes through GLC boot camp, supervised by Tomar-Re and Kilowog. There's the implied history-- and flimsy establishment of a love triangle-- among Hal, Carol and meek-turned-mad scientist Hector Hammond. There's Hammond's unshown abduction of Carol, and oh look, there's Hal just knowing to show up in the exact hangar where Hammond is keeping her hostage. There's Parallax wreaking the minimum required amount of havoc in downtown Coast City, before Hal quickly (too quickly) leads him away. Green Lantern is one of those movies that attempt to mask weak writing with flashy special effects, but just like a lame superhero disguise, it doesn't fool everyone.

Furthermore, the film suffers from the limited acting prowess of its two stars. Unlike Chris Hemsworth, whose blinding screen presence helped distract from some of Thor's flaws, Ryan Reynolds has the charisma but not the command to hold Green Lantern together. Strangely, I was more impressed by his turn as Deadpool in X-Men Origins: Wolverine-- there his douchey comicality was tempered by the sinister nature of his character, and he worked the wiseass role well. As Hal Jordan though, Reynolds lacks the grit and emotional depth to make the character believable or sympathetic. He's the buddy you want to knock back a few beers with, not the badass hero you look up to. Is he amusing? Yes. Amazing? Not by a long shot.

As for Reynolds' leading lady, for someone named Blake Lively, she strikes me as oddly... sedate. No question, she makes for a gorgeous damsel in distress, but this graduate of the Jessica Biel school of acting is certainly not credible as a skilled fighter pilot, nor a savvy business executive. I get the need to cast eye candy for the predominantly male target audience, but someone with a little more spunk would have been better suited as Carol Ferris, and might have been able to draw out a stronger performance from Reynolds.

So much more the pity that the rest of the cast is so damn talented. The always brilliant Peter Sarsgaard is a standout as Hector Hammond; an unrecognizable Mark Strong is perfection as Sinestro, a leading member of the GLC; Tim Robbins' prodigious range is wasted in the role of Senator Hammond, Hector's father; and the distinct voices of Geoffrey Rush and Michael Clarke Duncan bring life to the CGI characters of Tomar-Re and Kilowog, respectively. That Geoffrey Rush's mellifluous diction conveys more drama than Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively put together says a lot about the deficiencies of the 2 leads.

Green Lantern fell short in many aspects, but I welcome the prospect of a sequel (stay for a bit midway through the ending credits for the promise of a second GL movie) if only because I would love to see more of the other GLC members in action, as well as their dynamic with Hal Jordan. And now that the origins are out of the way, I can only hope the writers of the next film would be able to come up with a more coherent and interesting screenplay. Because I think it's too late to wish the casting director had gone with Bradley Cooper instead.

The real score

2011-06-08T17:32:00.004+08:00

Last weekend, our national basketball team dubbed Smart Gilas (are we the only country in the world whose team has a corporate sponsor's name attached?) lost their 2 final games in the FIBA Asia Champions Cup, winding up with a disappointing 4th place finish. During the same weekend, our national football team, the much-ballyhooed Azkals, was defeated by the UFL All-Stars in a friendly match, mere weeks before the Azkals are set to face Sri Lanka in the World Cup qualifiers. Needless to say, it was not a good weekend for Philippine sports.

On Tuesday, the Philippine Star put up an online poll asking "With its recent performance in the FIBA Asia Champions Cup, do you think Smart Gilas can make it to the 2012 London Olympics?" Seriously, should that even be asked? They didn't even place 3rd in a tournament featuring only minor Asian teams (powerhouse China did not compete, nor did Japan and Korea). Realistically, logically, based on empirical evidence, Gilas stands a snowball's chance in hell to qualify for the Olympics (sorry Chris Tiu). But of course the Philippine media, like a bunch of delusional sports fans, blithely refuses to admit it, or even consider it. Instead of doing their jobs as sports journalists to report objectively, analyze what went wrong, and provide constructive criticism, they pepper their pieces with plaudits (deserved or undeserved), make excuses for vanquished national athletes, and sour-grape when results don't go our country's way.

Perhaps these journalists think they are helping our players by being kind and supportive instead of kicking them when they're already down. I think this mentality is actually detrimental to the development of Philippine sports as a whole. It's one thing to be optimistic and encouraging, but it's quite another to be in denial and turn a blind eye to the shortcomings of not only our athletes and coaches, but also the sports programs and governing sports bodies of our country. Moreover, it does not help to set unrealistic expectations (the Olympics! the World Cup!) when our national teams are still struggling to get their act together in so many ways. But no, the media creates all this hype and lets the public believe that our teams are way better than they really are, practically invincible. This gets everyone's hopes up-- even the athletes themselves get carried away by the hype-- and when the rude awakening hits them, the media jumps to the defensive and comes up with alibis or commence finger-pointing.

It's a sad, destructive cycle, made sadder because some of our athletes do have the potential to excel in international competitions. But the "support" they're getting from the media is hampering them from maximizing their potential. It is not right to perpetually focus on the positives and gloss over the negatives. Sometimes a pat on the back won't work when what's really needed is a friendly shove in the right direction.

Joaquin "Quinito" Henson is a prime example of what's wrong with Philippine sports journalism. Heralded as "The Dean" of Philippine sports (read: he's an insufferable know-it-all), the man knows his stuff. But he also tends to spew BS that deviates from the meat of the matter. Take his column in the Philippine Star yesterday. Reviewing Gilas' performance in their last 2 FIBA Asia Champions Cup games, he pretty much blamed the first loss on bad officiating (always a favorite fallback of Filipino sports writers), and the second loss he attributed to Gilas' "lack of energy" (another favorite). However, it was his last line that made me really roll my eyes:

Gilas didn’t win the Champions Cup crown but it earned the respect of the Asian basketball community as a serious contender once more for regional supremacy.

The funny thing is, Henson's piece was titled, "Missing the point", and it seems he was the one who missed the point entirely. Earning the respect of our opponents is all well and good, but let's not kid ourselves, winning games is what counts. Manny Pangilinan isn't funding Gilas so they can be "respected" by other countries, he's investing in them so they can BEAT other countries. A sharp businessman like MVP doesn't just throw money down the drain; he believes this is a team that has the potential to win, and he and the rest of the country shouldn't be content with "respect". When our national teams don't win, when they FAIL, it should be regarded as exactly that, a LOSS. Full accountability and acknowledgment of failure are essential in order to move forward and grow-- no excuses, no sugarcoating. By touting Gilas as "a serious contender... for regional supremacy" after 2 losses, Henson is patronizing them, and pandering to a basketball-crazy nation with delusions of hoops grandeur.

Such is the state of sports journalism in our country today. Even relatively straightforward news pieces like this Inquirer article on the Azkals sneak in something for "pampalubag loob" like this absurd soundbite from the Azkals' coach:

“Some players in the defensive line didn’t have their best day,” Weiss said. “It may sound ridiculous but I think we clearly dominated the match.”

Clearly.

Let's not cushion the blow of defeat with all that "they gained experience" "they showed improvement" "they tried their best" crap. Both Gilas and the Azkals lost because they still lack experience. They lost because they need MORE improvement. They lost because their best isn't good enough. So we should stop coddling them with platitudes and consolations and start urging them to train harder, adjust their strategies, and hone their skills. Yes, we should cheer them on, we should be proud of their accomplishments, we should support them in their efforts. But loyalty should never be blind. Besides, these are grown men representing our country, not little boys playing in a Milo basketball or football clinic. They are tough enough to face defeat, and afterward they can handle the heat. The media who are so quick to help them lick their wounds actually diss them by NOT giving them a hard time. Treat them like warriors, not wusses, and we'll see how far they can really go.

It takes two

2011-06-07T10:34:00.000+08:00

There's something about a great guy duo that generates more power than even the most electric romantic pair. Maybe it's the intensity from the interplay between 2 male egos, or the comedic possibilities of a double dose of testosterone-- whatever the reason, it's why buddy flicks tend to do so well at the box office, and why we see even the most macho of audiences embracing the fairly recent phenomenon of the "bromance".

While X-Men: First Class shies away from a full-blown bromance between its two male protagonists, it is fueled and propelled by the terrific chemistry between Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) and Erik Magnus Lehnsherr (Michael Fassbender), better known as Professor X and Magneto, respectively. The movie tells the dramatic albeit inaccurate (purist comic geeks around the world are probably apoplectic with rage) back story of how the mutant superhero group the X-Men got started, centering on Charles and Erik's friendship and their eventual parting of ways. McAvoy and Fassbender inhabit their roles with an admirable commitment, almost an unnecessary solemnity, and infuse them with both pathos and humor. It also doesn't hurt that they're both easy on the eyes, and look awfully good decked out in suits, strutting around the country recruiting their fellow mutants. Any X-Men fan worth his salt could tell you Professor X and Magneto have always had a special relationship, always delicately teetering between comradeship and conflict, but firmly grounded on mutual respect and fondness. McAvoy and Fassbender successfully bring this interesting dynamic to life, and it is the most enjoyable aspect of an otherwise so-so film adaptation.

The screenplay is the biggest disappointment: the plot is overly ambitious yet underdeveloped (the X-Men averted the Cuban missile crisis, really?!?), the dialogue often felt stilted, there are too many lame cliches for comfort, and there is little material for tremendous acting talents like McAvoy and Fassbender to work with. The weak writing is most evident when delivered by equally weak actors, especially the vapid January Jones (whom I actually preferred in Emma Frost's diamond form so I wouldn't have to see her gorgeous but frustratingly vacant face). Actually the writing does work for someone: the wonderful Kevin Bacon, thoroughly having a blast playing the baddie and evidently relishing each trite one-liner his character, Sebastian Shaw/Schmidt, utters. What can I say, Bacon and cheese really do go together. All puns aside, Bacon makes a convincing villain, and makes the bad script work for him. He's THAT good.

Unfortunately the same can't be said of the rest of the cast. The actors who play the motley group of young mutants assembled by Charles and Erik are forgettable, and even Oscar-nominated Jennifer Lawrence is surprisingly blah as Mystique. Rose Byrne is a letdown as Moira MacTaggert-- not only is there no effort to essay a Scottish accent, she is totally not credible as a tough CIA agent. Moreover, there are no sparks between her and James McAvoy (c'mon, how hard can it be to look smitten by someone who looks like James McAvoy?), and more than once I found myself wishing they had either cast someone else, or done away with the character completely. I willingly overlooked the poor supporting cast though, not only due to the McAvoy-Fassbender tandem, but also because there are a couple of smartly placed cameos (no spoilers here) that more than made up for it.

As far as prequels go, X-Men: First Class does an adequate job of setting up the premise for the previous 3 X-Men films, although it fails to surpass them in terms of entertainment value (well, maybe not the third X-Men movie, that kinda sucked). But it's really the Charles and Erik show, and while I will stop short of saying McAvoy and Fassbender are better than the formidable combination of Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen, they certainly make an impressively powerful-- and damn good-looking-- pair.

Enter the panda, again

2011-05-31T18:02:00.000+08:00

I distinctly remember having a precious LOL moment watching the first Kung Fu Panda movie, the bit where Po, the rotund eponymous protagonist, has this exchange with his dad Mr. Ping, a scrawny goose:

Po: "I don't know, Dad. Honestly, sometimes I can't believe I'm actually your son."
Mr. Ping: "Po, I think it's time I told you something I should've told you a long time ago..."
Po: "Okay..."
Mr. Ping: "The secret ingredient of my Secret Ingredient Soup."

It was that kind of smart, subtle humor that made Kung Fu Panda such a fun and funny film. I was expecting the same from its sequel, but Kung Fu Panda 2 turned out to be more... philosophical than funny. Yes, it elicited its fair share of giggles from the audience, and I had another genuine LOL moment toward the end (the second half of the movie turned out to be more enjoyable). But with its theme of searching for identity and inner peace, KFP2 had me reflecting, and even sniffling, instead of snickering. It's not necessarily a bad thing-- in fact, I'm a sucker for movies that make me cry. I guess I was just expecting a movie that promised twice the awesomeness of the previous one to deliver the "awesome", not the "awws".

Don't get me wrong though, there is much to love about KFP2. For one thing, the animation is visually stunning-- cartoon China comes to life in bright colors, dramatic landscapes, and beautiful details. For another, the characters are cute and charismatic-- I especially loved Master Shifu (redundant name notwithstanding) and Mr. Ping, who get some of the best lines of the script. I even appreciated the mad villain Lord Shen, a white peacock hellbent on conquering China (and destroying kungfu) using gunpowder and cannons. Shen's personality is threshed out quite well for a cartoon bad guy, and his connection to Po's wanting to find out who his birth parents were fits in quite nicely within the whole plot.

KFP2 boasts what is perhaps the most star-studded cast of voice talents ever assembled: Jack Black, Dustin Hoffman, Angelina Jolie, Gary Oldman, Michelle Yeoh, Jackie Chan, Seth Rogen, et al. Problem is, there are so many stars that their talents are not maximized, or in the case of some, they're barely utilized. Personally I would have liked to hear more of Jean-Claude Van Damme (Master Croc) if only because there was so much potential for self-deprecating meta-references right there.

As far as animated film franchises go, Kung Fu Panda seems to have gotten the right formula for both commercial and critical success, much like Dreamworks' other notable cartoon hit Shrek. So perhaps unsurprisingly, KFP2 ends with an assurance of a third movie, and I for one think that's awesome.

Why courtesy counts

2011-05-30T08:29:00.000+08:00

At a time when NBA stars are hurling gay slurs and anti-RH Bill advocates are throwing punches, I am once more reminded that though we live in a supposedly enlightened modern age, people still show signs of being savages.

To me, it is staggering how many people don't seem to have even the most rudimentary grasp of common courtesy anymore. Most are so fixated on grand gestures and loud statements that they tend to overlook the little acts of decency that are actually more important. As I've written in this blog before, I firmly believe that respect-- that most basic acknowledgment of another person's human dignity-- should never be compromised. And respect is reflected in the simplest of ways that we often take for granted: switching our cellphones to silent mode inside a theater; wearing proper attire in a place of worship; speaking politely to elders or people in authority; returning a store clerk or security guard's greeting; saying "thank you" or "please" or "excuse me". All these are so ridiculously easy to do, yet for many it's easier to just not do them at all. Or worse, they are deemed insignificant, or inconvenient.

Those who do away with simple courtesies or throw etiquette out the window show a blatant disregard for others. The people around them are unimportant, undeserving of the effort it takes to be polite or proper. I can understand if they can't be nice to everyone all the time, but if they can't be nice, then at the very least be DECENT. No matter how intense the argument, how shitty the situation, how divided the loyalties, or how high emotions are running, there is no need to resort to fisticuffs, insults, mudslinging, or cussing. Classic examples are the boorish behavior one sees from rabid Ateneo fans, pro athletes or Philippine senators. There are countless cases of bad conduct from people who are inconsiderate of others' rights and insensitive to others' feelings, and it's dismaying to think that in an already fractured society, we can't even fall back on plain old decency.

In a world of varying values, contrasting beliefs, and clashing passions, it is unrealistic to expect everyone to get along. The only way we can all get by (even without getting along) is to behave like civilized human beings, and simply agree to disagree while still observing good manners. And perhaps, if it's not asking too much, a little compassion and kindness. Anyone incapable of that bare minimum shows either a sorry lack of breeding, or a sad deficiency in character. And people like that not only don't deserve to be heard, but they aren't worth any attention.

Jack's back

2011-05-25T11:20:00.001+08:00

In 2008, I drew up a list of my 25 greatest movie characters, and Captain Jack Sparrow made it to number 14. As seeming validation of Johnny Depp's colorful character being bigger than the entire movie franchise, four years after the third (and what was presumably the last) Pirates of the Caribbean movie, Jack's back, this time sans ship and crew, but still swashbuckling and swaggering through hi-jinks on the high seas.

Plot-wise, Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides stands independent of the first three films, with the only leftover premise being that Jack wants to take back his beloved ship The Black Pearl from Captain Hector Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush, reprising the role of rapscallion with relish), who commandeered the vessel at the end of the previous Pirates installment. Barbossa is one of the few original characters who reappear in this fourth film-- joining Jack this time is former flame Angelica (played by my girl crush Penelope Cruz), daughter of the infamous pirate Blackbeard (Ian McShane), who enlists Jack's help in looking for the legendary Fountain of Youth. Aboard Blackbeard's ship the Queen Anne's Revenge, they race against both Barbossa, who is now serving the King's Navy and looking to exact revenge against Blackbeard, and the Spanish armada, who want to get to the Fountain before the British.

The plot is surprisingly straightforward (perhaps too straightforward, bordering on simplistic) considering the convoluted, sometimes otherworldly twists taken by the preceding movies. While Jack still gets into the usual sticky situations, he never seems to be in any real danger throughout the story. Nothing poses much of a threat to him-- no Kraken or pirate zombies this time, just... mermaids. And though the mermaids resemble the Odyssey's more menacing Sirens rather than Disney's kid-friendly Ariel, they're not exactly terrifying, even if the script tries to convince the audience they are. That the mermaids are key to exploiting the Fountain of Youth even seems a stretch, and throwing in a love angle between one of the mermaids and an implausibly good-looking Christian missionary (why hello there, Sam Claflin) is almost silly, really.

In spite of the shortcomings of the plot, the acting is faultless, and that's what keeps the movie afloat. It's impossible to go wrong with a cast headlined by the likes of Depp, Rush, Cruz and McShane, and luckily for new Pirates director Rob Marshall (who took over from Gore Verbinski) his stars delivered. Above all of course, Depp is perfection as Jack Sparrow, and the charisma of the character definitely does not get old even after four movies. Part of the credit goes to Depp for creating that charisma-- there is just something compelling about Jack (is it the guyliner?). And here I go back to the reasons he's one of the greatest movie characters of all time: both clueless and crafty, selfish and compassionate, dishonorable and noble, Jack is as amusing, sympathetic and entertaining as the most memorable Disney cartoon characters who have been given forgettable TV series spinoffs (I'm talking to you, Timon and Pumbaa).

So even if On Stranger Tides is not the best Jack Sparrow movie of the lot, it is still very much Jack Sparrow's movie, and that by itself makes it worth watching. And as a bonus, there is a priceless cameo by Dame Judi Dench, and an appearance by Keith Richards as Jack's dad, which tickled me to no end. Go see this fourth Pirates film if you love Jack Sparrow as much as I do, and stay after the credits for assurance that this won't be the last adventure for our favorite pirate of the Caribbean.

Prep

2011-05-18T13:01:00.000+08:00

Begging my bloghounds' indulgence, but after months of letting my blog idle, my writing muscles have understandably atrophied, and I have only started flexing them again in the hopes of restoring their former fit condition. That said, I've decided to ease my way back into old blogging form gently and gradually, starting off with my review of Thor and now with a mostly cut-and-paste post. In the weeks to come there should be marked improvement (best effort), but should there be any complaints about the quality of my compositions, feel free to flood me with comments, if only to reassure me someone's still reading. :p

And now, on to my patchwork post.

Recently, I received an email from a former student who had just read an online article featuring an interview with Amy Chua, author of the controversial Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. One line in particular had struck my student:

Chua’s Chinese education had gotten her through an elite schooling, but it left her unprepared for the real world.

My student went on to say that she "totally felt that way":

I mean don't get me wrong, I have nothing but fond memories of both ICA and Ateneo days, but I can't help but feel that Ateneo was an extended trip to Ash Creek or Promenade. Maybe it was my choice of school. Maybe it was going to school in the city (but in Manila, where else can you go really? Unless I wanted to study fisheries in UP Visayas, Manila is really all there is, right?) Maybe it was my course, or maybe it's where I am now. In the end I can't help but feel that something was lacking.

Something about this earnest email stirred me to composing a pithy response. I wrote:

I can understand where [you're] coming from (believe me, I was shortchanged by my high school in terms of academic content and quality). But I also believe that it applies to ALL types of education. Nothing can ever really fully prepare one for the real world but, well, being immersed in the real world. Education-- whether it's attained at a sheltered Catholic academy or a public school or an Ivy League university-- only attempts to equip one with the skills needed to survive the rat race. A diploma doesn't come with a guarantee that the bearer shall succeed at everything s/he undertakes after graduation, or will be ready to face anything the real world throws at him/her. It's only proof that the person is at the very least ready to TRY. And it is through the process of trying where most of us get our REAL education in life, in the school of hard knocks.

Let's face it... you probably don't even remember 10% of the stuff I taught you in 4th year English. Hell, I don't remember half of the stuff I taught! But that's not to say what you learned in my class wasn't important or didn't help your individual development. And none of you would have passed my class if I didn't think you were ready to move on to bigger and tougher things. Some of you may sometimes feel you're "lacking" in certain skills or qualifications, but that doesn't mean you were thrown out there to flounder in uncharted waters-- you can all stay afloat, it's just a question of which [of you] will stick to dog-paddling, and which [of you] will start actually swimming.

When I finished my reply, I took a figurative step back to mull over what I had just written. My mind turned to my batchmates from both Jubilee and Ateneo (we're 10 years out of college now, eek), and how far we have all come since graduation. Certainly none of us had felt fully prepared to venture into the so-called real world after college, yet here we are today, flourishing in our respective industries and fields, making our mark in little or big ways. I don't know how much of a factor our education has been in helping us achieve what we have, and some of us may even claim they don't get to apply the knowledge acquired from their schooling, but I think it would be safe to say that our college degrees opened doors that would otherwise have been closed to us-- or made it easier for us to find any doors at all.

There is a lot left to be desired about the educational system in our country, that much is obvious. But even in the pathetic state it's in, the products of our academic institutions aren't all failures. Whether that speaks of the success of the school or the student is up for debate, but either way no one can dismiss the value of a decent education and how it helps one get by in life. As nice as the concept behind "all I reallly need to know I learned in kindergarten" is, we all know "nice" doesn't cut it in the real world.

Hunk with a hammer

2011-05-11T18:15:00.003+08:00

It's almost laughable, the idea of Kenneth Branagh directing a Marvel movie. After all, Branagh is more often associated with Shakespeare films, not action flicks, and certainly not action flicks featuring costumed, muscle-bound superheroes. But when the Marvel superhero in question is Thor, the god of thunder from Norse mythology, it can work. And forsooth, it does.

I don't know if it's the Branagh treatment, but there's something distinctly Macbethical (Macbethy?) about Thor, not just in the plot (conflict of royal succession, treachery within the palace, exile of rightful heir, etc.) but in the characterization as well. The protagonists are not completely virtuous and noble, and the antagonists are not absolutely evil and cruel. Thor himself is portrayed as arrogant, brash, and not extremely intelligent-- flaws offset by his bravery, loyalty, and strong sense of justice. But it is his arrogance that dissuades his father Odin, king of Asgard, from relinquishing the throne to him, and pushes the wise old ruler to banish his headstrong son from their realm.

Thor crash-lands on Midgard, a.k.a. Earth, stripped of his powers and his mighty hammer Mjolnir, and is promptly hit by a van conveying astrophysicist Jane Foster, her kooky assistant Darcy, and her mentor Dr. Erik Selvig. Thus begins Thor's journey of redemption, to prove himself worthy of wielding Mjolnir and ruling Asgard by learning humility and compassion amongst mere mortals. Meanwhile, back in Asgard, his devious brother Loki, the god of mischief, schemes to take over the kingdom in Thor's absence. Like I said, it's a Marvelized Macbeth-- less tragic, more macho; Shakespeare on steroids, if you will. And it's definitely packs a solid punch in terms of entertainment value.

For me (and undoubtedly legions of other female viewers), the real marvel (pun intended) of the movie was Aussie hottie (really, there should be a word hotter than "hottie" to describe this smokin' specimen of hunkhood) Chris Hemsworth. All twinkly blue eyes and rippling muscles, Hemsworth makes a breakthrough superstar turn as the eponymous hero. The guy whom we last remember playing James Kirk's dad in J.J. Abrams' Star Trek totally owns this far more high-profile role, oozing sex appeal, and more importantly charisma, whether he's bashing in the head of a Frost Giant or making eyes at Jane Foster (the loveliest and luckiest astrophysicist in Midgard). Thank Odin the right Hemsworth brother was cast (otherwise, as my student Jo said, "Thor's ex would've been HannaheffingMontana").

Not to be (too) distracted by Hemsworth's hotness, I must give due credit to the supporting cast as well. Tom Hiddleston, who oddly reminds me of both Alan Cumming and Alan Rickman, made a terrific Loki, wily and weasely, almost reptilian in his sly subversiveness. The always-reliable Stellan Skarsgard contributed a reassuringly sensible yet amusingly wry presence as Dr. Selvig, and the always-regal Anthony Hopkins delivered the goods as Odin, managing to be forceful and frail as called for. And it was refreshing to see Natalie Portman in a "light" role after her heavily emotional performance in Black Swan. When her Jane Foster giggles like a schoolgirl, charmed by Thor's old world... errr, charm, it is both delightful and believable (even of a supposed-to-be brilliant astrophysicist).

Props also to the quartet who played Thor's combat buddies: Ray Stevenson as Volstagg, Tadanobu Asano as Hogun, Josh Dallas as Fandral, and Jaimie Alexander as Sif. The posse never seemed like just the requisite sidekick element, nor were they utilized as mere comic relief. Alexander in particular stood out as the confident, capable warrior woman of the group. Indeed, the only real disappointment among the cast was Rene Russo, who not only seemed out of place, but superfluous, in her role as Frigga, Odin's wife.

All things considered, the first Iron Man movie is still the superior Avenger film, if only because the script was better, the dialogue wittier, and the star, well, bad-asser. However, it will be interesting to see how Hemsworth stacks up against the likes of Robert Downey, Jr. and Chris Evans in next year's Marvel mega-production The Avengers. As far as I can see now, he can definitely hold his own, if not as an actor then certainly as eye candy.

And as promised to my friend Yang, I cannot end my review of Thor without posting this gratuitous screen cap of a shirtless Chris Hemsworth:

Best of 2010

2010-12-28T00:14:00.001+08:00

The past year, I've been many things: a yoga buff, a Twitter addict, a negligent blogger, a burned-out C.O.O., a world traveler, and a smitten girlfriend. The thing that I didn't expect to be by the end of the year was someone's fiancee. That that someone is the love of my life makes it all the more incredible.

I've never been someone who leads a charmed life, who always gets happy endings. That's not to say I'm utterly miserable-- over the years, especially in my late 20s, I've learned to be sincerely grateful for how blessed I truly am. But this year, in spite of many hurdles and heartaches, I've also discovered a deep contentment, the kind of quiet, inner joy that reaches one's core. So even with all the madness around me (work, wedding preparations, business trips, social obligations, more work), it still feels like I've finally been given a happy ending, at least to 2010.

I usually close every year with a sense of hope, and anticipation for a fresh beginning at the threshold of a new year. This time, that hope takes on a whole new dimension, as does the anticipation for a fresh start... because in 2011, I really will be beginning a new life, together with the man I love.

And now, my last annual "Best of" list as a single woman:

Best day: June 12
Best life-altering decision: saying yes
Best family vacation (sort of): Mother's Day weekend at Makati Shangri-la
Best non-family vacation: Bali
Best traveling companion(s): Shirley and Elyse
Best wedding date: Jon
Best surprise: flowers sent to my hotel room in Hong Kong on my birthday
Best gift given: "500 Teapots" :)
Best gift received: my engagement ring
Best party: Family Thanksgiving/Christmas dinner at Jo and Sel's
Best luxury item purchased: Emirates business class tickets for the 'rents
Best new TV show: Modern Family
Best movie: Inception
Best actor: Joseph Gordon-Levitt
Best actress: Sofia Vergara
Best sports hero: Roger Federer
Best book: Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel
Best author: Gregory Maguire
Best CD: Glee Season 1 OST
Best song: "If It's Love" by Train
Best LSS (last song syndrome): "Teenage Dream", Katy Perry
Best concert: John Mayer live in Manila
Best object of lust: Roger Federer
Best fictional object(s) of lust: the boys of Glee (Puck, Mike Chang, Sam and Blaine)
Best inspirational figure: Mr. Schue! haha
Best miracle moment: September 16 :)
Best fashion trend: mini-dresses
Best fashion staple: Uniqlo bra tops
Best beauty aid: Bliss Ingrown Eliminating Pads
Best caffeine fix: iced soy lattes from Starbucks
Best sweet tooth treat: macarons
Best meal: lunch at Convivio
Best 15 minutes of fame: press photos from our Lancel relaunch
Best achievement: getting more exercise
Best healthy pasttime: yoga
Best new online preoccupation: www.TheKnot.com
Best blog post: slim pickings this year, so it's got to be the more substantial "Why Noy"

Just not write

2010-11-26T17:22:00.004+08:00

So it took indignation over atrocities committed against the English language to jar me out of blogging hibernation, which reassures me that the grammar Nazi in me is alive and well (and mad as hell).

During a rare slow day at work, I was searching online for restaurant recommendations, and I came across a review of a French restaurant, written by a very prominent Pinoy blogger. My friend Yang has jokingly dubbed this particular blogger my "favorite" because every time I read his posts, I get a migraine from his terrible grammar. In this instance, a line from his review goes, "the men's restroom is a bit cramp". And if you think that's just a typo, I'd like to point out that this is from the same guy who thinks "heartthrob" is spelled "heart rob". Seriously.

Skimming over the rest of my favorite blogger's recent posts (skimming is less painful as I don't spot ALL his glaring grammatical errors), I also glimpsed the title, "8 Most Admired and Upcoming Filipina Bloggers". Um, I believe it's "up AND coming", genius. It really rankles me how someone with such a deficient vocabulary and deplorable writing skills can be considered one of the best bloggers in our country. Are our literacy standards really that low? And am I the only one who notices his writing sucks? It's depressing.

To compound my frustration, the same day I was warding off an "upcoming" migraine, a former student of mine sent me a message over YM for a quick grammar check. She wanted to verify that the following sentence was off: "___ is not on Facebook for a couple of years." I told her that the grammar was indeed incorrect, and being familiar with her above-par English proficiency, I asked her who wrote the flawed line. To my surprise, she named a common acquaintance who used to teach English at an elite academic institution. My response was the emoticon :-|, I didn't have the words to express my incredulous exasperation.

I know I can be a snob when it comes to people's use (and abuse) of English, but dammit, if your profession is writing, or teaching the language for crying out loud, then I sure as hell am going to expect correct grammar and spelling from you. The occasional lapse is forgivable. But consistently churning out poorly constructed pieces and feeding them to an already linguistically handicapped public? Not Awesome. Oops, I mean, not cool.

Blog, interrupted

2010-09-14T15:25:00.002+08:00

Oh, look. It's been over a month since my last blog entry.

If anyone is still out there reading, you may take this latest post as proof of life, but don't expect my blogging output to return to normal anytime soon. Things at work have been crazy (so crazy that my dormant MVP has acted up again), and admittedly majority of my past blog posts have been composed during lonely lunch breaks or slow office hours. Without much time to spare during work, my output has dwindled significantly (see my pathetic lone post for August).

Outside of the hellish drudgery of being C.O.O., my time has been taken up by yoga, walks with my Wolf, and lunches and dinners with friends and the boyfriend. If I'm going to be perfectly honest, at this point in my life, I'd much rather spend my leisure hours doing sun salutations, or in the company of the people I love, than park my butt in front of my PC or netbook and write. Yikes, maybe my brain is atrophying.

I miss blogging, but not as much as I thought I would. It saddens me, but it's hard to stay sad when I've got so much other good stuff going on. So to my handful of bloghounds still reading (what, you've got nothing better to do? haha), thanks for sticking around, but I'm afraid this blog is going to be quiet (and possibly quieter) in the coming months. I'm not giving it up completely (yet), but with everything else clamoring for my attention, I need to put my posting on pause.

And now, back to bigger and better things.

Memorable, but not purrfect

2010-08-03T12:29:00.001+08:00

Perhaps it's because I've never been any good with poetry (both writing and reading it), but I didn't really get Cats, Andrew Lloyd Webber's acclaimed musical adaptation of T.S. Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats. Sure, it's mind-bogglingly impressive that ALW took a bunch of poems about cats, put them to music, and created a 2-hour song-and-dance spectacle out of it all. But either all of T.S. Eliot's poetry went clear over my head, or there really isn't a lot of substance in his verses. After all, it's a bunch of poems about cats.

My main issue with Cats was that there doesn't really seem to be much of a plot: the Jellicle Cats (an Eliot term, derived from "dear little cats") gather for the annual Jellicle Ball, where the most senior cat, Old Deuteronomy, makes the "Jellicle Choice", picking a cat to move on to "the Heaviside Layer" (i.e. heaven) and start a new life. Throughout the play, several cats present themselves as candidates for the honor, and the closest thing to a conflict is the shunning of Grizabella, an old "glamour cat" whose coat borders are "torn and stained with sand", making her an outcast from the Jellicle tribe. It's all very simple-- too simple. When I watch a play or movie or even TV show, I'm all about the story-- the more thought-provoking, the better-- and Cats just didn't do it for me.

However, where Cats falls flat in its narrative, it succeeds wildly in its delivery. The elaborate stage design, the gorgeous costumes, the meticulous makeup, the beautiful score and catchy arrangements (LSS guaranteed!)... though there isn't much of a story to be told, it sure is told splendidly. Oddly, Cats struck me as more ballet than musical-- the choreography is amazing, most notably the double windmill pulled off by twin troublemaker cats Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, and the awesome "Conjuring Turn" of the magical Mr. Mistoffelees. Indeed, the graceful, slinky, cat-like movements of the actors-- even when they aren't dancing, so subtle yet so spot-on-- contributes to the realism of the whole show, and helps the audience suspend imagination and believe they are actually watching a crew of cats perform for them. I was riveted to every little thing going on onstage: a lick of a paw, a flick of a tail, a smooth pirouette here, a nimble arabesque there, and stretches and poses that reminded me of the things I do in yoga class.

If anyone were to ask me if they should watch this Manila run of Cats, I'd have to say Lea Salonga alone is worth the price of admission. I confess I've never been a huge fan of Lea (I find her a superb singer but just an okay actress), and when I saw her in Miss Saigon some years back during its Manila run, I was underwhelmed by her performance of the role that shot her to international stardom. In Cats, I don't know if it was because she was the sole Filipino cast member, or because she got to sing the most popular song from the musical, but I really felt that Lea stood out and shone as Grizabella (and that's considering her character had the drabbest costume). I could feel the Pinoy pride swelling in the audience as we applauded her after each of her handful of brief appearances on stage, and the adulation was well-deserved. When she reached the crescendo of her solo in "Memory (Reprise)", I felt like yelling "You go girl!", and the tug on my heartstrings was from both the emotion conveyed by and with the song, and the proud recognition of Filipino talent at its finest. Ms. Salonga truly is a national treasure, and living proof of what can be achieved with dedication to one's craft, a solid work ethic, and a strong sense of identity (Botox not needed!).

One last thing before I wrap up my review. While this has nothing to do with the quality of the play, I just have to get this off my chest: WTH, CCP, get your damn A/C fixed! People in the audience were actually fanning themselves with programs, it was that warm. I can only imagine how oppressive the furry cat costumes and thick makeup were for the actors, and under the hot stage lights to boot. Our country isn't fit to host world-class acting troupes if our venues can't even provide adequate ventilation! Oh, and the occasional fumigation wouldn't hurt either-- mosquitoes were making a buffet out of my legs the whole night.

Cats is a classic for good reason, but I wouldn't say it's ALW's best work, and I certainly don't think it's "the greatest musical of all time" as the posters tout it. But it is still excellent entertainment, and the chance to watch Lea Salonga perform elevates the experience to enthrallment.

It's all in the mind

2010-07-25T22:30:00.006+08:00

It took me a while, but I finally saw Inception today, and I finally saw what all the fuss is about. It is by far the finest film I've seen all year, and it's going to be tough to top it. This is director/writer/producer Christopher Nolan doing what he does best: screwing with the audience's minds, in the most elegant, exquisite and highly entertaining way.

If you didn't take as long as I did to see Inception, you'd know by now that the title refers to the act of infiltrating a person's subconscious and planting an idea in it. This speculative fiction premise of the movie is intriguingly novel by itself, but in the deft hands of Nolan, it becomes utterly compelling. Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio, still trying painfully hard to be taken seriously) leads a team of thieves that specialize in "extraction", stealing secrets from sleeping people's dreams. Cobb is bribed by Japanese tycoon Saito (Ken Watanabe) into accepting an inception job, the objective of which is to take down the empire of Saito's business competitor, Maurice Fischer, who is on his deathbed. Cobb and his cohorts are tasked to enter the subconscious of Fischer's son and sole heir Robert (Cillian Murphy), and plant the idea of dissolving his father's corporation.

Simple enough plot? So it would seem, but then it thickens into the consistency of almost-dry cement. Cobb's own subconscious is so messed up he endangers his team during their missions, as he battles his personal demons who keep showing up in the form of his two children and his dead wife (Marion Cotillard). I can't go into further detail without revealing too much, in case someone reading this hasn't seen the movie, but suffice it to say it requires one's full concentration to follow the crafty and convoluted twists and turns of the story. And even then, in the end you'll be left befuddled, as evidenced by the audible collective groan that rose from the audience when the lights went up inside the cinema-- just like waking up from a bizarre dream you can't wrap your head around.

Anchored by an interesting and arresting plot, Inception is buoyed by amazing CGI and special effects. Most kick-ass was the scene where Cobb's trusted point man Arthur (a very grown-up and very fine Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is in a hotel hallway, fighting off some guys in zero gravity. Excellent casting and flawless performances give Inception added credibility and character-- and prove that you don't need 3D when good acting already gives a film extra dimension. Special mention goes to relative unknown Tom Hardy, who is a scene-stealer (and quite easy on the eyes) as Eames, the team's "forger", and young Ellen Page, who plays Ariadne, the gifted rookie "architect" Cobb enlists to assist them. Page failed to impress me in her claim-to-fame titular role in Juno, but I was more than suitably impressed with her in this one.

Reminiscent of Nolan's brilliant breakthrough movie Memento, Inception is one big mindf*ck that has viewers debating and discussing days after they've watched it. I don't have the words to adequately encapsulate how awesome this film is in its complexity, its originality, its artistry. This is one of those films you have to see for yourself in order to perhaps not fully comprehend, but definitely appreciate. The Dark Knight may have elevated Chris Nolan to superstar status, but Inception firmly establishes him as a genius.

Legally bland

2010-07-15T12:17:00.000+08:00

Since watching last Sunday's matinee of Atlantis Productions' staging of Legally Blonde: The Musical, the chorus of "Omigod You Guys" has been stuck in my non-blonde head. However, this case of Last Song Syndrome is not exactly proof of how much I appreciated the theatrical adaptation of the much-loved movie starring Reese Witherspoon, who immortalized the quintessential undumb blonde Elle Woods. Aforementioned song may be catchy, but apart from a handful of other well-composed songs and some impressive choreography, Legally Blonde: The Musical pales in comparison to the film from where it got its roots (hair puns half-intended).

First of all, the humor of the original movie was not fully present in the theatrical version, or at least the Atlantis version of it. I'm not sure whether to blame it on the Meralco Theater's crappy (and ancient) sound system, or the actors' poor diction and delivery, but a lot of the lines-- which I suspect were quite witty-- got lost in transmission. The improbable but amusing tale of Elle's journey from flighty sorority girl to formidable Harvard law student was told clearly enough, but with less of the smart sass that made the movie so engaging and endearing.

Second, the cast Atlantis assembled did not quite succeed in bringing to life the memorable characters from the movie. Nikki Gil, who obviously exerted every effort to play the part of Elle Woods, still failed to fill her pink pumps with the same convincing clueless-yet-clever charm Reese Witherspoon brought to the role. At times, Ms. Gil appeared to be trying TOO hard, almost begging the audience to believe she's really a blonde ditz-- and I suppose it doesn't help that we know she's really neither. While her vocal prowess was more than adequate, her acting skills did not do justice (legal pun not intended) to such a larger-than-life character. Her Elle was more caricature than anything, which is lamentable as the lovable Ms. Woods is actually one of the most honest and accessible female figures to come out of a Hollywood comedy.

The supporting players were no better. As the leading man, Nyoy Volante was a subpar Emmet Forrest-- his portrayal was a bit weak, even sheepish; his vocals were overpowered by Nikki Gil's (particularly in their duet "Legally Blonde"); and his slight stature did not help his stage presence (in certain scenes it was easy to forget he was there). Jinky Llamanzares played bubbly beautician Paulette Bonafonte, who's supposed to bring much comic relief to the story, but instead of nailing all her jokes (most of which were garbled by her weird accent), she seemed more slapstick and silly. Even the popular "bend and snap" gag didn't really work the way Jennifer Coolidge (a.k.a. Stifler's mom) rocked it in the movie. Geneva Cruz as Elle's celebrity client and fellow sorority alum Brooke Wyndham did a kick-ass job performing "Whipped into Shape", belting out the song while dancing and jumping rope, but most of her speaking lines, including some choice one-liners, fell flat. And those three girls who played Elle's sorority sisters and "Greek chorus" were irritating in their irrelevance and just plain unfunny.

The only actor I found no fault with was, surprisingly, Cris Villonco (whom I used to find annoying when she was a kid). Playing Elle's ex's new flame Vivienne Kensington, Ms. Villonco was the sole performer with the right balance of acting and musical talent, and even in the relatively drab outfits she wore (and standing next to Nikki Gil clad in shocking pink), she stood out for me.

Third, some elements were added to the musical that weren't in the movie, and said additions felt unnecessary, including Paulette's inexplicable longing for "Ireland", the already mentioned Greek chorus, and a trip to the scene of the crime in the middle of a court trial. The only new thing I liked was the number "There! Right There!" where the people in the courtroom tried to decide if the pool boy on the witness stand was "gay or European".

Perhaps if I were not to compare the musical with the movie, Legally Blonde could stand on its own and be considered pretty good. But even then, the acting would have still disappointed me, especially after being thoroughly impressed with the casts of the last 2 Atlantis shows I saw (The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee and Avenue Q).

Moreover (and as pointed out by my viewing companion), the choreography was not very polished, at least not as polished as in previous Atlantis productions. Nikki Gil is a serviceable but not spectacular dancer, and it was made more apparent whenever she was placed alongside the trio who played the Greek chorus. Filipino actors always fancy themselves triple threats, but realistically very few can pull off acting, singing and dancing all together-- and the evidence was right there on stage for Legally Blonde.

The final verdict? Not as bad as Spring Awakening, but only half as good as I was expecting. Perhaps with a different cast, in a different theater, Legally Blonde: The Musical could have been better, and I would have gotten more out of it than LSS.

So Chaya

2010-06-25T17:35:00.001+08:00

In the midst of dozens of photo albums in my Multiply inbox is interspersed a series of blog posts from my recently Vancouver-based cousin Chaya (pronounced Key-a), who is currently spending her summer in Uganda. Yes, Uganda. Chaya is part of a UBC (University of British Columbia) program that sent her and a couple of other students to Africa to live amongst the locals, learn their culture, and conduct research. She is sharing a home with a village pastor and his family, and on days when she gets Internet access at the public library, she posts journal entries recounting her experiences in Uganda. Some are happy, some are heart-breaking, and they all reveal as much about the writer as the world she's discovering.

I first found out about Chaya's intentions to join this program when she emailed me asking for help to collect funding for her trip to Uganda. I was impressed with the program, but more importantly I knew it was very much her thing, so without hesitation I made an online donation myself. When I spread the word among our cousins and aunts, a couple of them remarked, "That's so Chaya!" And it certainly is.

There are some people described as "old souls", people who are wise beyond their years, or act maturely for their age. Chaya is an old soul, but she's also more than that. She maintains a purity, an innocence about her-- no jaded angst, no "emo" tendencies as too often seen in her contemporaries. For someone so young, she exudes an aura of someone at peace with herself, and everything around her. It's this extraordinary quality, this grace of character, that sets her apart from all the twentysomethings I've ever known. And it's this serenity that shows the kind of beautiful soul she has, the kind of beautiful soul she is.

My Multiply inbox alone is telling: while the rest of my contacts are posting photos from vacations abroad and barkada outings, Chaya is posting heartfelt and thought-provoking blog entries about religious intolerance, violence against children, race perception, and poverty in Africa. Reading them, I am struck by my cousin's capacity for empathy, her generosity of spirit, her passion for life, her basic human goodness, and her awesome reservoir of love. She is able to find poetry in the prosaic, meaning in the mundane, and the blessed in the most basic things.

I have a grand total of 35 cousins on both sides of my family, and while I'm close to only a handful, I reserve a special affection and admiration for Chaya in particular. There's just something about her that draws me to her, a warmth and a genuineness that's easy to open up to. I suppose it's hard NOT to be drawn to someone who radiates such positivity. For several years now, Chaya's been based abroad (Singapore, then Canada), so I get to see little of her. Right now as I'm writing this, I'm missing her infectious, crazily loud laugh, and everything else that's "so Chaya". And though I know she doesn't want to rush her time in Uganda, I look forward to when my remarkable cousin comes home.

Snapping out of it

2010-06-21T11:46:00.002+08:00

I am aghast realizing that it's been exactly a month since my last blog post. I'm not sure, but this very well may be the longest dry spell my blog has gone through.

I offer no excuses. There was certainly no dearth of material: I could have reviewed one of several movies I saw in the past month (Shrek 4, Prince of Persia, Sex and the City 2, The A Team, and most recently, Karate Kid). I could have written about being at SMX last June 8 to see and listen to Al Gore deliver "An Inconvenient Truth". I could have gone on a ranting rampage about the Boston Celtics losing the NBA championship to the Los Angeles Lakers, or the US drawing with England in their World Cup match, or those now-notorious instruments of international irritation, the vuvuzelas. I could have rhapsodized about the day of shopping and stuffing-ourselves-silly I spent with my siblings (sans the 'rents) in Hong Kong last June 12 (Independence Day indeed!). I could have given an update on my progress and ongoing love affair with hatha yoga, the current (and just concluded) season of Glee, and a certain individual with a proclivity for the color gray.

Granted, I was insanely busy at work the past month. Some of our managers went on leave, forcing me to shoulder their workloads while they were away. At one point I was doing the work of 3 people for a couple of days, and the stress got to an almost unbearable level. But whereas before I would find catharsis in blogging, I now find my solace elsewhere, which is both good and bad, I suppose-- good that I have healthier alternatives to destress, bad that I am not exercising my writing muscles beyond churning out work emails and business letters.

Worse, my blog hasn't been the only thing I've been ignoring of late. I haven't finished a single book all year, and we're already midway through 2010. Reading and writing are things I enjoy dearly, yet I now seem to be unable to accommodate them. I'd like to think it's because my priorities have shifted (damn, I AM growing old), but I'd also like to think that I can still find some time to indulge in my once favorite pastimes. Perhaps I simply need to realign all the stuff I've got going on in my life to make room for them.

In the meantime, I do know what I shall be blogging about next, and I'm determined to publish it within the week, in spite of a pretty full work and social calendar. For the nth time, I am exhorted by that passage from The Little Prince that goes, "It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important." And I am determined to keep tending the roses that are my books and my blog, no matter how busy I get.

Everybody's a critic

2010-05-21T00:15:00.001+08:00

Ok, I admit it: I'm one of those annoying people you see in restaurants who photograph their food. I don't do it ALL the time though, only when it's a special occasion or when I'm dining in a new place. My motivations are reasonable enough: 1) to document what my companions and I had on the special day; 2) to share with my online network what the food at the restaurant looks like; and 3) to have visual aids in case I decide to write a review of the restaurant.

Last Monday night, I was snapping photos of the lovely interiors of Cafe 1771, the reincarnation of Chateau 1771 in El Pueblo, and at one point a smiling waitress politely ducked out of my shot. It hit me then that servers at restaurants must now be all too accustomed to patrons photographing their premises, and at the same time they must be aware that the people taking pictures might be doing so for purposes of posting an online review. I guess it's a pretty effective way to keep them on their toes, and elevates the quality of both the service and food preparation. You never know who's going to find a fly in their soup and bitch about it on Facebook, or compose an irate blog entry about poor F&B management.

On the other hand though, standards and tastes are very subjective and relative, so I also feel sorry for dining establishments that have to deal with the added pressure. There are a lot of unreasonably demanding customers out there, and sometimes all it takes is one loudmouth with Internet access for the negative feedback to reach thousands. Hence, I'm wary of people who fancy themselves food critics just because they eat out a lot and own a camera. There's more to reviewing than ranting and raving-- even some of our most prolific and popular local food bloggers are in dire need of basic grammar lessons (yes, grammar counts for something-- I have an automatic distrust of anyone who thoughtlessly mangles the English language).

When I read an online restaurant review, I take into account the author's culinary knowledge/background; how thorough the review is in describing the food, the plating, the service, the ambiance, the prices, even the location; and the writer's personal preferences that might make him/her biased for or against something. For example, one very well-known blogger almost always brings his children along to places he reviews, so he tends to fussily fixate on how kid-friendly a restaurant is... in bad English.

Sure, if one pays for a meal, he/she has every right to critique and/or complain about it. But the way one does it reveals as much about the reviewer as it does about the restaurant. The best food writers can compose a classy but critical review of even the worst restaurant; mediocre or wannabe food critics can make even the most superb restaurant sound unappealing. The latter not only don't do justice to good eateries, they ruin my appetite altogether.

While I try to avoid the amateurs, I am also leery of reviews by so-called journalists: more often than not, these people's opinions can be "bought" with a free meal and good PR (have you ever read a negative restaurant review in a newspaper or magazine?). There are only a handful of food bloggers out there I trust implicitly, most notably Lori Baltazar of http://dessertcomesfirst.com. Her reviews are so delightfully detailed and captivatingly colorful that the stunning photographs that accompany them are just icing on the cake (and she writes in impeccable English too, not resorting to getting by with adjectives like "malinamnam"). My friend and fellow DCF fan Yang marvels at how one can almost taste the food Lori writes about, her descriptions are so vivid. As articulate as she is though, Lori never exaggerates, even when she gushes about something really yummy, so I when I go to a restaurant she liked, I'm rarely disappointed.

I don't fancy myself a food critic by a long shot; my food and restaurant reviews have been few and far in between over the 5 years I've been blogging. But as a lover of food and writing, I know a well-written food review when I read one. Sadly, there are more excellent restaurants than there are decent reviewers. I can only hope that the few credible food writers out there have tireless tastebuds and a commitment to the continuing quest for the ultimate dining experience. A toast to the real critics!

Why Noy

2010-05-08T02:55:00.000+08:00

Back when I was still teaching, my faculty friends and I would occasionally get into discussions about what makes a good teacher. Everyone pretty much agreed that it takes a combination of competence and character: a good teacher should not only teach well, but also set a good example for her students. Everyone also agreed that if it comes to a choice between a competent but cruel teacher and an incompetent but kind teacher, we'd much rather take the latter. The inadequacy of an inferior instructor can be remedied; the damage inflicted by a malicious mentor may never be repaired. At the end of the day, even if the students learn less Math or English or Science, they'll learn more valuable life lessons from a teacher who sincerely cares about their welfare.

This same line of reasoning applies to why I'm choosing to vote for Noynoy Aquino for president in the coming national elections. His critics and detractors dismiss his ability to lead, belittle his political track record, and even question his mental health. But at this critical juncture, I believe our country needs, above all, someone who is not only competent, but also has character. Someone who can lead by example and is willing to serve. Someone decent and honest and true, more than someone forceful and shrewd and experienced. Most say poverty is the biggest problem plaguing the Filipino people; I say we are poor because we are morally bankrupt. There is no salvaging our economy, no improving our educational system, no building of infrastructure, no establishing peace and order when our government is rotten to the core. Only when we put upstanding, exemplary individuals in charge can we have any chance of curing our nation's ills and recovering, and among all the candidates running for president, Noynoy fits the bill.

I'm not saying Noynoy Aquino is a saint, the same way I stopped short of canonizing Barack Obama during his run for the US presidency. But I do think that like Obama, Noynoy inspires the same feelings of patriotism and solidarity and hope among a people already desensitized to a culture of corruption, feelings necessary to galvanize our nation toward change and progress. We glimpsed an upswelling of those very feelings when Tita Cory passed away last year. And those feelings have been reignited by her son, who has fast become the reluctant hero on whom many are pinning their hopes. That he is a reluctant leader is actually part of the reason I trust him. My brother summed it up nicely with a quote from the movie Gladiator:

Marcus Aurelius: Won’t you accept this great honor that I have offered you?
Maximus Meridius: With all my heart, no.
Marcus Aurelius: Maximus, that is why it must be you.

Moreover, it's only fitting that the son of a woman of undisputed integrity attempt to carry on and lead the fight for our country's future. I'm not one to advocate political dynasties, but there is something to be said about children of great leaders having more potential to become great leaders themselves, especially when they are raised with the same values their parents upheld. Noynoy would never betray the memory of his parents, one who sacrificed his life for country, and one who devoted her life to it. And certainly we can expect the same love for country ingrained in him, woven into his very moral fiber. I have enough faith in Noynoy that he will stay true to the Aquino legacy, that he will be selfless, forthcoming and just, and that he will do everything in the best interests of his fellow Filipinos.

College degrees, financial success, political achievements... all these speak only so far as to what a person can do. Intangibles like scruples and principles speak to as what a person WILL do. There's more to a good leader than competence. Competence without conscience is useless. Aanhin ang galing at talino kung wala namang prinsipyo? Without a sound moral compass to guide his decision-making, even the most intelligent or efficient individual will steer off-course.

I go back to my teacher analogy. A well-managed classroom with a smart but morally questionable teacher may or may not produce successful students (and even then, success would be relative). But a not-so-well-run classroom with a well-meaning, loving teacher will always produce happy, well-adjusted students who will be far better off in the long run. Sometimes, meaning matters more than method. Sometimes, spirit is stronger than skill. And always, a good heart is worth more than a good head.

When it comes to such a vital position of power, where greed and ambition can easily corrupt the souls of lesser men, the best person for the job is the best person, not necessarily in terms of achievement or ability, but more importantly conviction and character. I believe Noynoy Aquino is that person. And that is why come May 10, 2010, I shall be voting for him to become our next president.

Of super sequels and Stark contrasts

2010-05-03T00:09:00.005+08:00

Iron Man 2 has all the ingredients of a kick-ass superhero movie: charismatic actors, awesome special effects, high-octane action sequences, and enough witty wisecracks to keep things fun, but not too many as to diminish its credibility. Yes, credibility. After all, this film genre has been elevated to a level which even the snootiest movie critics have to take seriously, and in this critic's humble opinion, the Iron Man franchise has greatly contributed to this rise. 2008's Iron Man was one of the most impressive comic book-to-film adaptations I've ever seen, and as far as sequels go, Iron Man 2 is no slouch. However, it's no The Dark Knight, which totally eclipsed the already excellent Batman Begins, but more on that later.

I still find the first Iron Man film the superior one, primarily because I hadn't been expecting to be so wowed by Robert Downey Jr.'s pitch-perfect portrayal of Tony Stark as an arrogant but adorable armored protagonist, so the surprise added a lot to my appreciation of the movie. Also, whereas Iron Man had the luxury of falling back on the obligatory origin narrative, Iron Man 2 bears the burden of building on that back story, and unfortunately, the build-up didn't blow me away. Blame it on the weak plot more than anything, because the acting was faultless: RDJ was still terrific, and his chemistry with Gwyneth Paltrow (Stark's secretary-turned-successor Pepper Potts) was still very good, AND I was gratified by the replacement of pipsqueak Terrence Howard with Don Cheadle to play Lt. Col. Rhodes/War Machine. Moreover, I was prepared to detest Scarlett Johansson (who plays Stark's new assistant) as I've never been a fan of the overrated sexpot, but she was actually a good fit for this part. Ms. Johansson-- blessed with more looks than talent-- should really stick to roles where she's not required to do much beyond looking good in tight outfits. Playing the antagonists, Sam Rockwell (Stark's business rival Justin Hammer) and Mickey Rourke (murderous physicist Ivan Vanko/Whiplash) were both good, as expected, but their characters seemed a bit one-dimensional, mere foils for Stark/Iron Man, which brings me back to the weak plot.

There was just something a bit too predictable about the whole thing: unscrupulous business competitor (Hammer) enlists the aid of vengeful villain (Whiplash) to take down the hero (Stark/Iron Man), who is secretly struggling with something which leads to reckless behavior, endangering everything he's worked for, but thankfully his trusty sidekicks (Rhodes/War Machine and Pepper) come through for him. Been there, seen that. What kept things interesting for me though were the bits involving S.H.I.E.L.D. (and Nick Fury, played to the hilt by Samuel L. Jackson) and dropping hints of the future Avengers movie. I get the feeling Tony Stark/Iron Man will be an even more engaging personality when we see how an egomaniac like him operates within a group.

As I mentioned earlier, as a superhero sequel, Iron Man 2 is not of the same caliber as The Dark Knight. But it may also be unfair to compare them if only because the franchises are so different. To the uninitiated (*coughRachandTarincough*), Tony Stark may seem like a more flighty, flamboyant version of Bruce Wayne, and Iron Man a more colorful, chromey Batman. But as one of my viewing companions (comic book expert extraordinaire Gerard Poa) pointed out, while Batman is all about revenge, Iron Man is all about redemption. In addition, while billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne is the facade and the brooding Batman is the character's true persona, Tony Stark is Tony Stark, narcissistic smart-ass showboat that he is, and Iron Man serves as an extension and an expression of his "Starkness", as Gerry put it. Drawing from that contrast, I can say that the differences are quite evident in the movies: while Chris Nolan's Batman films are dark and cerebral, Jon Favreau's Iron Man movies are slick and explosive. And the latter is not necessarily bad, especially where the realm of superheros is concerned. Hell, it's bad-ass is what it is.

So bottom line is, although Iron Man 2 could have been better, it still rocked. And it still made me want and look forward to an Iron Man 3. But before that-- bring on Thor and Captain America!

Hooked on hatha

2010-04-23T20:30:00.004+08:00

At the start of 2010, I drew up a list of "healthy habits" I would try to develop throughout the year. One of them was to exercise more, and surprisingly (I say "surprisingly" because I am notoriously lazy when it comes to most forms of physical activity), I have been fairly successful with this resolution. Not only have I been going on evening walks around our village about twice a week on average, I actually took up yoga! There's a studio a block away from our office, the wonderfully well-run Pulse Yoga, and I have been attending their hatha classes about 2 to 3 times a week since January.

Hatha is a gentler, more basic form of yoga that Pulse recommends for beginners. When I attended the free trial session, I wasn't sure what to expect-- would they make me do a backbend straight off the bat? or stand on my head or something? Turned out some of the asanas (postures) were simple enough that I pulled them off on the first try (the intimidating-sounding shoulder stand came pretty easily to me, in fact), while the more challenging ones were doable, if with a bit of difficulty. The instructor didn't make me attempt anything I wasn't ready for, and even with my weak knees (which I was concerned about prior to signing up for the class), I could still keep up with the rest of the students. I remember walking out of the studio that day with a sense of accomplishment. Hey, I can do yoga! Of course the following morning I woke up feeling sore and achey all over, but the feeling of satisfaction remained.

As I attend more classes, I'm getting more into yoga, and gradually feeling the benefits: I feel looser and stronger, and my breathing, balance, and posture have improved. I like that the weaker parts of my body (my knees, my upper arms) are getting worked out, and I can do some tougher poses now (2 weeks ago I managed the "plough" for the first time, and when my toes touched the ground I broke into an incredulous, proud grin). Moreover, I like the quiet "me" time I get during each session (I'm not the type to socialize before and after every class). The classes always start and end with a few minutes of silence, with us either lying down in "corpse" pose or sitting cross-legged with our eyes closed. This outer and inner quiet is very much welcome especially after a long day at the office.

I also appreciate that the instructors at Pulse are both encouraging and considerate-- they push you if you can go further, but they also adjust if you're a newbie, nursing an injury, or prone to back problems. They also correct your stances or poses, and constantly remind you to inhale and exhale. Pulse also maintains very clean facilities, and they're even thoughtful enough to put free amenities in the bathroom such as towels, hair ties, cotton buds and squares, and even sanitary napkins.

After using up 2 10-session passes (plus 2 free sessions) and purchasing 3 yoga mat towels from Aquazorb, I'm now about to enroll in Pulse's quarterly package (unlimited sessions for 3 months), which means I'm really committing to the practice of yoga. I never thought I'd one day be enjoying exercise this much, and such a... serene form of exercise too. At least that's one healthy habit I'll be sustaining for some time, and hopefully, getting better at while I'm at it.

Next goal: the "wheel" or backbend!

When boy meets beast

2010-04-10T10:49:00.005+08:00

I hadn't been planning on watching the clunkily-titled How to Train Your Dragon, but I was wheedled into it by a big kid, who also invited one of his (eligible bachelor) friends to join us. To my surprise, I ended up genuinely enjoying the movie... although not so much as my 2 super-awesome companions (who asked me to describe them as such). This supports my theory that grown men are children at heart (adorably and amusingly so), and also proves that How to Train Your Dragon is an animated feature that appeals to all ages.

The movie follows the tried-and-tested formula of an unlikely young hero's journey to self-actualization: Hiccup is a scrawny, clumsy teenage Viking, useless at combat but brilliant at engineering. His father Stoick (voiced by the very macho-- but not as macho as my viewing companions-- Gerard Butler) is the leader of the hardy Viking tribe that inhabits the island of Berk, which is plagued by dragons of every shape and size. Killing a dragon is a rite of passage for all Vikings, but due to his ineptitude on the battlefield, Hiccup is stuck playing apprentice to blacksmith Gobber (the very funny Craig Ferguson). However, when a lucky shot with one of his inventions hits an elusive Night Fury, Hiccup discovers he can't bring himself to kill off the injured beast. What ensues is the typical boy-meets-pet story, and as Hiccup learns more about his new friend (whom he dubs Toothless), he realizes that everything his people have known about dragons is wrong.

I guess what sets How to Train Your Dragon apart is the excellent pacing of the story. As one of my companions pointed out, there wasn't a "slow" moment, the movie moved right along. The development of the bond between Hiccup and Toothless is not too abrupt, and not dragging either. Hiccup's gradual progress in "dragon training" under Gobber is shown in a snappy montage, along with his transformation from village laughingstock to dragon-fighting bad-ass. And even his strained relationship with Stoick is handled well, not too heavy on the father-son drama, but with enough sentimentality to tug on the heartstrings. It helps too that the characters are drawn to be so cute and cuddly (even, and especially, Toothless), so it's easy to sympathize with and care about them. The script is also funny without trying too hard, contributing to the overall entertainment value.

My only beef with this film is the casting. Usually, the voice talents are what I like best about an animated feature, but in How To Train Your Dragon, I found some distracting. First and foremost, Jay Baruchel's voice-- which doesn't have a pleasant timbre to begin with-- seemed too "old" for Hiccup's youthful appearance. Second, Baruchel's voice lacked personality, depriving Hiccup of some personality as well. And third, while Stoick and Gobber had thick Scottish accents (courtesy of Butler and Ferguson), all the younger characters spoke in straightforward American accents, which just did not make sense to a nitpicker like me.

Considering the traumatic scars I still bear from the last dragon movie I saw (blast you, Eragon), How to Train Your Dragon was a refreshing and delightful reminder of better dragon films (anybody remember Dragonheart?), and how the mythological creatures make for good material... and kick-ass pets. I want my own Night Fury!

For shame

2010-04-06T00:41:00.008+08:00

Ateneo and plagiarism. These 2 things I feel very strongly about are at the center of an ongoing controversy, and it's got my (blue) feathers all ruffled. While I was out of the country over Holy Week, I checked my Twitter account and a tweet led me to a blog post by The Professional Heckler mocking the commencement address delivered by prominent Ateneo alumnus and benefactor Manny V. Pangilinan during last week's graduation ceremonies for Ateneo de Manila University's sesquicentennial batch. Apparently, the head honcho of PLDT and Smart Telecom had plagiarized chunks of his speech from pieces penned by US President Barack Obama, Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling, TV host Oprah Winfrey, and comedian Conan O'Brien.

In an email to ADMU president Fr. Ben Nebres, MVP has apologized and offered to resign from the Ateneo Board of Trustees, which I believe is the only honorable thing he can do under the humiliating circumstances. However, ADMU president Fr. Nebres seems far too forgiving in his response posted on the Ateneo website:

...this does not diminish our admiration and respect for your person and for your care and accomplishments for our country and for the Ateneo. In fact, your acceptance of responsibility and apology command our utmost respect.

I'm sorry Fr. Nebres, but this diminishes my admiration and respect for YOU as a member of the academe and head of one of the foremost universities of our country. I realize MVP is Ateneo's single biggest donor, and the school has benefited a lot from his significant financial contributions, but how can such a blatant act of deception not earn anything but censure from an institution that's supposed to mold the minds and morals of upstanding Catholic citizens?

In the first place, MVP didn't even make the effort to write his own speech-- where's the Magis in that? Sure, one could argue a busy bigshot like MVP can't find the time to scribble down a few lines of oratory, but did he even sit down with his speechwriter to discuss what he wanted to convey to his audience? If so, then what a neat coincidence that all his points had been touched on in previous commencement addresses by such popular figures. The significant amount of plagiarized text tells me that the speechwriter just Googled "graduation speech" and went at it like a buffet, sampling snippets from each piece and piling them onto the clueless MVP's plate.

As the notorious Scourge of Plagiarism, I've spotted far too many examples of patchwork plagiarism not to know and understand how the method works. Whoever wrote-- or I should say assembled-- MVP's speech was lazy, unscrupulous, and obviously had no concept of real authorship. And it's bad enough to rip off other people's work, but to spoonfeed them to an unwitting mouthpiece is just unconscionable.

But back to MVP. People (Ateneans, of course) defending him are saying it doesn't really matter that his speech contained words that aren't his own, what matters is the "message" that MVP wanted to impart to the graduates. But what kind of message is Ateneo imparting to its students exactly? That it's ok to deliver subpar, dishonest content as long as the intent was pure? That it's fine to compromise academic integrity in favor of convenience and accomplishment? That it's alright to pass off someone else's work as your own as long as you're rich and influential and cough up enough money to construct new buildings on campus and subsidize the basketball team?

No wonder kids these days can't grasp why plagiarism is wrong. Not only is it way too easy for them to copy-paste stuff off the Internet, but even the grown-ups are doing it, and getting away with it with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. We are raising a generation who does not comprehend something as basically correct as giving credit where credit is due, young men and women too lazy and complacent to churn out original work, future leaders who will become desensitized to and expert at cheating.

This is why I'm severely disappointed with Fr. Nebres' statement. It ostensibly absolves MVP of all wrongdoing, and makes it sound as if there was no shame in what had happened. As an Atenean, I for one feel very much ashamed that a fellow Blue-blood-- one of our most successful and prolific alumni, no less-- was involved in such a disgraceful incident, and I am outraged at how the good name of my alma mater has been tarnished by it. And as a former teacher, I lament the poor example and the low standard this sets for academic honesty and intellectual creativity.

I'm willing to give MVP the benefit of the doubt and believe that he had no idea he was reciting stolen lines. I'm willing to accept his apology as sincerely remorseful. And yes, his acceptance of full and sole responsibility for the plagiarized speech is admirable. But to say that this incident has not tainted his reputation and diminished respect for him is to trivialize the gravity of the deed committed, even if it hadn't been committed by him personally.

There is absolutely nothing to respect, much less commend, about the theft of intellectual property. MVP is acknowledging that by resigning from the Board of Trustees; I say let him. It will deliver the right message, a stronger, better message than the one he had attempted to share in his commencement address.

It sucks to be you if you haven't seen Avenue Q

2010-03-23T00:08:00.000+08:00

What do you get when you cross a Broadway musical with a TV sitcom AND The Muppet Show? That's the best way I can succinctly sum up the fun, funny and puppet-populated play that is Avenue Q. The story centers on idealistic fresh grad Princeton, who moves into the fictional New York district of Avenue Q and meets a crazy cast of characters: unemployed Brian and his Asian-American fiancee Christmas Eve; Kate Monster, a teaching assistant who can't find a boyfriend; Nicky and his roommate Rod, who's in the closet AND secretly in love with Nicky; Trekkie Monster, an Internet porn addict; and Gary Coleman (yes, that Gary Coleman), their superintendent. The plot mainly follows Princeton's search for his "purpose", as well as his romantic relationship with Kate Monster, but also traces the relationships among the supporting characters and how they all "grow up" in one way or another. It's a modern-day coming-of-age tale for twentysomethings, touching on contemporary issues like race, sex, homosexuality, unemployment, and technology, and its relevance makes it all the more engaging.

While even the best plays have a part that's sort of "slow", Avenue Q has nary a dull moment, which is why there's such a sitcom feel to it. Time flies when you're having a hoot, and this hoot of a musical felt more like a 22-minute episode of Friends than its actual hour-and-a-half run. There are countless of LOL-worthy lines in the snappy, smart script, suffused with the kind of irreverent humor that rings true with modern audiences. That there are obvious parallels to characters and themes from the well-loved classic children's TV show Sesame Street makes this for-grown-ups-only play even more wickedly funny. Cheeky songs like "It Sucks to Be Me", "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist", "You Can Be as Loud as the Hell You Want (When You're Makin' Love)" and the wildly hilarious "The Internet is for Porn" sound like cheery Sesame Street ditties, only peppered with adult language and subjects. The use of puppets is also cleverly executed; the puppets are surprisingly "believable" (even during puppet sex) and expressive in their movements. I thought it would be distracting having the actors, unconcealed, handling and voicing the puppets, but it worked, even with some actors playing more than one puppet character.

A lot of credit goes to the actors for bringing such life to their inanimate alter egos, and props to Atlantis Productions for assembling such a stellar cast for this 5th and supposedly final run of Avenue Q. Rachel Alejandro was fabulous as sweet-natured Kate Monster and sultry seductress Lucy T. Slut. I've always thought of Ms. Alejandro as just another local celebrity with more talent than most... but not much. Seeing her in Avenue Q certainly changed my opinion. She can SING, really sing, plus her diction was crystal clear, and she moved around the stage with a fluid grace. Her solo as Kate in "There's a Fine, Fine Line" was plaintive and pure, and genuinely moving. I will never underestimate Rachel Alejandro again.

Felix Rivera, whose performance in The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee made an impression on me, was even more outstanding in Avenue Q as both Princeton and Rod. Just like Rachel Alejandro, he made the 2 characters he was voicing not only sound so distinctly different, but also succeeded in making me forget that it was the same guy doing it.

The terrific Joel Trinidad again managed to give a solid comedic performance as both Trekkie Monster and Nicky. I loved Trinidad in Spelling Bee, loved him even more in Avenue Q. I can't believe the same guy who annoys the hell out of me in those Sky Broadband TV ads can be so charismatic onstage.

Calvin Millado was ok as Brian, but the role doesn't really let him flex a lot of acting or singing muscles, so he wasn't so much of a standout. Frenchie Dy overshadowed him as the lovable (or I should say "ruvable") Christmas Eve, but then again she got more memorable songs as well as more amusing dialogue.

If there was anyone in the cast I found a tad disappointing, it was Aiza Seguerra as Gary Coleman (I liked the inside joke of having a former child star playing a former child star though). Her singing was impeccable, but she needs to work on her black accent. Several of her character's zingers fell flat because she didn't deliver them audibly, and it was a waste of good writing.

Overall though, I was really wowed by the collective talent of the cast, and coupled with great Tony-award winning material, it made for quality live entertainment at its finest. After failing to catch the first 4 runs of Avenue Q, I'm glad I finally got to watch it. And if you haven't seen it yet, well I guess it sucks to be you.

The path of Glee resistance

2010-03-21T01:11:00.003+08:00

I fancy myself a non-conformist in many ways, so it takes me a while to jump onto any bandwagon. Sometimes I totally refuse to hop on at all (e.g. Facebook, Twilight, gladiator sandals) for any number of personal reasons, but when I do cave and am persuaded to give something a shot (e.g. Harry Potter, Twitter, wide belts), more often than not I do wind up being converted.

In the case of Glee however, I wasn't so easily won over. I'd heard so many raves about the TV musical comedy from former students and old friends alike, but it wasn't until someone (who, ironically, has never even watched a single Glee episode) went out of his way to download the series for me that I decided to see for myself what all the fuss was about.

After the first couple of episodes, I still found myself underwhelmed. "This is like High School Musical: The Series!" I snorted dismissively. The template was certainly similar to the inane, irritating Disney franchise: musically gifted, nerdy but pretty girl and musically gifted, popular cute jock are connected by their love of singing and end up falling for each other.

But with each additional episode I watched, I discovered that Glee veered away from that trite template. Rachel Berry (Lea Michele) is a girl with a big voice and big heart, but she's also prissy and exasperatingly conceited. She's so full of herself that it's funny, and she's not one-dimensional and more likable than the usual Little Miss Perfects in teenybopper shows or movies. Finn Hudson (Cory Monteith) fits the gentle jock stereotype, but the writers of the show keep him real and accessible by making him unabashedly, well, unsmart. Aside from not being the brightest bulb in the room, Finn has a vulnerability about him rarely seen in the typical teen heartthrob, and it works.

I also like the unexpected, if improbable, twist of the show, where the cheerleaders and football players join the glee club for their own personal selfish motives but end up sincerely enjoying being part of it, even if they are labeled "losers" by the rest of the school. The young actors who play the 12 members of "New Directions" are quite talented in both singing and dancing, and it's delightful to watch the choreographed musical numbers within each episode (which are also reintroducing classic rock and pop songs to a whole new generation). I'm not so much a fan of big girl Mercedes Jones (Amber Riley) and her black diva belting, but I enjoy it whenever gay soprano Kurt Hummel (Chris Colfer) gets to sing solo, AND name-drop fashion designers he's wearing. I also have a soft spot for Noah "Puck" Puckerman (Mark Silling), the token bad boy (complete with mohawk), whom I find so much more appealing than the sweet and sensitive Finn. Quinn Fabray (Dianna Agron) first struck me as a bland blond bombshell, but the captain of the "Cheerios" grew on me, although I'm more impressed with her acting prowess than her musical talent.

However, while Glee is ostensibly about the kids in the glee club, I prefer to think of it as Mr. Schuester's show. Will Schuester (Matthew Morrison) is the teacher who moderates New Directions, and his passion for both music and teaching is inspiring and makes me miss my teaching days something fierce. When it comes right down to it, he's the main reason I got hooked on Glee (you know you're getting old when you relate more to the grown-up characters). Moreover, the romantic tension between "Schue" and hypochondriac guidance counselor Emma Pillsbury (Jemma Mays) is, adultery aside, surprisingly kilig-worthy, and Schue's shrewish, scheming wife Terri (Jessalyn Gilsig) just makes me root for Emma all the more. But the woman in Schue's life who brings out both the best and worst in him is cunning, cruel Cheerios coach Sue Sylvester (Jane Lynch, whom I've loved since her recurring stint as the wry psychiatrist in Two and a Half Men). Sue will seemingly stop at nothing to bring the glee club down. Her put-downs, especially the swipes she takes at Schue's hair, are hilarious, and delivered with spot-on deadpan comedic mastery that makes this aggressive antagonist impossible to hate. Lynch's Golden Globe nomination for her work in Glee is well-deserved indeed.

I started out unimpressed with the first couple of episodes, but by the 9th episode (the surprisingly touching "Wheels") I was already getting misty-eyed, and the 13th episode (the mid-season ender "Sectionals") got tears trickling down my face. And the waterworks are as good a seal of approval as I can give. I may have taken some time to get here, but I'm now officially on the Glee bandwagon.

Classic Burton

2010-03-07T00:38:00.004+08:00

Maybe it's because I'm a fan of anything that comes from the wild artistic visions of Tim Burton, but I enjoyed Alice in Wonderland in spite of less than enthusiastic reviews from critics and audiences alike. Like the last Burton movie I saw, the underappreciated Sweeney Todd : The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Alice has the director's signature dark and deviant elements, a distinctly Danny Elfman score, and Burton's favorite muses: Johnny Depp, and the missus, Helena Bonham-Carter.

HBC steals the show as the malevolent Red Queen, whose reign of terror in Wonderland ("Underland", in this reimagining of Lewis Carroll's story) is challenged by the reappearance of now 19-year old Alice (newcomer Mia Wasikowska, who looks like the deathly pale love child of Gwyneth Paltrow and Calista Flockhart). Despite her comical appearance in the movie, HBC is still to be taken seriously, as she masterfully portrays the Red Queen as not simply cruel and petty, but miserable and lonely as well. She totally owns the role and gives the most layered performance among the cast, gigantic head notwithstanding. (By the way, was it just me or did the Red Queen remind anyone of a certain megalomaniac midget leader we all love to hate, hmm?)

Aiding and abetting Alice in her quest to restore power to the White Queen (the disarmingly charming Anne Hathaway) are the Mad Hatter (Depp, disappearing into another psychologically imbalanced character), the White Rabbit, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, the Cheshire Cat, and Absolem the Caterpillar (voiced by too-sexy-for-this-CGI Alan Rickman). Burton transforms Alice from sweet little girl to Goth ingenue, then puts her in armor and turns her into Joan of Arc. It would have worked better if Wasikowska were more... plucky, or had anything akin to a personality (or pulse). Ironically, one of the best lines in the movie is the Mad Hatter musing to Alice, "You have lost your muchness." Throughout the film, even if she's in practically every scene, there is not "much" of Alice to engage, or be engaging, and she gets lost amidst the talking animals and playing card foot-soldiers.

The art direction is gorgeous, as to be expected from any Burton production, with the stark contrast between Underland and Alice's real world highlighted wonderfully. Burton's version of Wonderland is grayer, gloomier, grimmer, ghostlier, as he replaces whimsy with otherworldliness, imbuing everything with a spectral touch. I'm curious how it all appears in 3D, if the nightmare-like atmosphere is enhanced, or if it would merely distract from the serviceable screenplay. Either way, I think it would be pretty cool to see the Cheshire cat grin in 3D.

I enjoy alternative fiction, and Alice in Wonderland reminds me of how one of my favorite authors, Gregory Maguire (Wicked), takes popular fairy tales and tweak them to show the "real" story. With his own reworking of a beloved classic, Burton has firmly established himself as the Mad Hatter of cinema, and as they say, there is a fine line between madness and genius.

Takeoffs, layoffs, and the talented Mr. Clooney

2010-03-04T23:36:00.007+08:00

Up in the Air has received so much critical acclaim and pre-Oscar buzz that I was expecting to be blown away by it. And as always when my expectations are raised so high, I ended up disappointed. Only slightly, though. The screenplay was the major letdown for me-- I anticipated brilliant writing from a film that's favored to win the Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar, but I found the dialogue a little flat, and the storyline trite in parts. George Clooney plays man-on-the-move Ryan Bingham, whose job has him traveling all over the US firing people, and who feels most at home in airports, airplanes and hotels. Circumstances at work force him to take a young, earnest new employee (Anna Kendrick) under his wing, and this unlikely pairing, along with his romance with a fellow frequent flyer (Vera Farmiga), cause him to reassess the lonely life he's always loved. Bingham's change of heart is typical, and even the twist near the end is predictable. Yes, the story is entertaining enough, but there's really nothing fresh or inspiring about it.

I suppose since the film turned an eye on the humanity (or inhumanity) of corporate layoffs that it would resonate with American audiences in their time of economic recession, but I found the less obvious themes more interesting: the dehumanizing effect of technology; the idealism of youth; the exhilarating/exhausting lifestyle of the jet-set; dating dynamics in an age of long-distance booty calls and sexting. And of course, the main message of human relationships as baggage struck a chord with me, as someone who puts so much premium on tending to my "roses".

More than anything though, Up in the Air was kept afloat by its 3 key actors. Between the 2 Best Supporting Actor nominees, I was more impressed with Farmiga, who delivered a more effortless performance as Bingham's match-made-in-mileage-heaven Alex. She had a dignified grace and regal presence about her, reminiscent of Cate Blanchett, but tempered with gentle humor. Kendrick on the other hand was thoroughly believable as Bingham's overzealous, idealistic protege Natalie, but like her character, she came off as trying too hard sometimes. Her best moments came when Natalie showed cracks in her Cornell-forged armor, but sharing a scene with both Farmiga and Clooney, she was simply eclipsed.

As for my man George, his biggest asset is also his biggest liability: his charm. That intangible something that makes him so irresistible-- from the adorable twinkle in his puppy dog eyes to his impish aw-shucks smile to his low, languid but oh-so-masculine voice-- tends to distract from his acting talent. And really, the man does have talent. There is a moment in Up in the Air, brief but memorable (if you've seen the movie I'll tell you which scene I mean), where one can catch Clooney stripped of his trademark charm, and glimpse a raw and revealing vulnerability that is both startling and sweet to behold. If I could hand him the Best Actor Oscar for that split second of honest emotion, I would. But then again, it could just be his puppy dog eyes working their magic on me.

Up in the Air is not Best Picture material for me, but it IS a good film, unpretentious and substantial, which is far more than what I can say for most movies nowadays that rely heavily on CGI to mask mediocre acting and weak plots (*coughAvatarcough*). And at the very least, one can pick up some helpful travel tips, served with a generous dose of that irrepressible Clooney charm.

Bad blood

2010-03-02T11:02:00.002+08:00

You know you're getting old when you're comparing cholesterol levels with your parents and siblings.

The other day I got back the results of my annual medical examination, and to my dismay, there was an ominous "H" (for "high") typed beside "Total Cholesterol". I got 5.72 mmol/L, a good 0.52 above the normal range, the first time I've ever gotten a bad result on my blood chemistry. It alarmed me, but not so much as the fuss my mom made over it. She must have exclaimed "So high!" in Chinese at least a dozen times, cluck-clucking her tongue and then going on to gloat that HER blood chem results were all normal (conveniently forgetting she's been taking cholesterol medication and niacin supplements).

It seems a cruel joke that it's now when I've actually started seriously exercising (yoga twice a week, walking twice a week) that my cholesterol levels have gone up. So now I'm adding something to my new year's resolutions: reduce my intake of red meat (bye bye steaks, sniff). And I really do need to add more fiber to my diet. Bring on the salads (and the flush-free niacin capsules!).

10 things I love about being an LM girl

2010-02-18T12:40:00.001+08:00

Last night, I had dinner with my closest college blockmates Anj, Ria, Yang and Pia (in town from Singapore). It's been a while since we got together and caught up on each other's lives (work, love, or otherwise), and I realized how much I've missed being with my LM girls, and how being with them brings out some of my old qualities that don't manifest as often anymore. There's really a special kind of comfort when one is around old friends, and after an evening with mine, I drew up a list of reasons I just love being an LM girl.

It's ok to show up late, because no one (except Nikki) ever arrives on time.
Everyone notices (and loves) everyone else's clothes and shoes and bags.
Our running jokes never grow old.
We hold passionate views on Philippine politics (and showbiz), and are not shy about sharing them.
No one is spared from razzing, even (especially?) our husbands and boyfriends.
We all love to camwhore.
We all love to eat (even if we are all on diets).
And there is always, always room for dessert.
Upon spotting a LaSalle Green Archer, we let the Ateneanly snide comments fly (and don't care if we're overheard).
Saying goodbye takes forever, because once we get together, it's hard to break us apart.

When the going gets tough, the tough get going?

2010-02-08T13:18:00.007+08:00

Earlier today, the morning radio program I listen to daily got a caller who asked for a DJ's opinion on Talk N' Text's walkout during Game 4 of the PBA Philippine Cup quarterfinals. Another DJ interjected with a comment about how walkouts seem to be the trend recently, from basketball games to Senate sessions. That observation suddenly made me wonder if we Filipinos are cultivating-- if not already propagating-- a walkout culture. When circumstances become (or perceived to become) too unfair, uneasy, unpleasant or altogether unbearable, we just up and leave in a huff.

Back when I was still a high school teacher, we rookies were exhorted by some more senior members of the faculty never to walk out in the middle of a class, no matter how angry or upset we got. The explanation was, the second you walk out of the classroom, "ikaw ang talo". We were discouraged from letting any difficulty defeat us, or allowing our frustrations to get the better of us. Above all, we could not let our students see us give up, even if we wanted to show that we were seriously steamed. Walking out would deliver the wrong message about not only giving up on a tough situation, but giving up on them.

I understand the power of the emotions that compel and propel a walkout. Sometimes throwing your hands up and abandoning everything seems the only option available (it's either that or imploding). Sometimes you need to put some physical distance between the person and the problem, and get some room to breathe, and think. Sometimes you just want to tell the world you're really really pissed off, and you mean business. And sometimes the impulse to walk out even comes from good intentions: to protest a grievous ethical wrong, to stand up for a strong moral conviction, to prevent an already volatile issue from erupting, or to protect someone else from the damage or hurt you might inflict should you stay. Sometimes, walking out seems to be the "bigger" thing to do. But is it the right thing to do?

I've always considered myself a fighter, especially for people and things I value dearly. But it's that same passion that makes me get disheartened too quickly: when I feel like I've failed someone or something, it's painful for me to face it, and that's when the urge to walk out wells up. Most of the time though, I find enough strength to stick it out. I guess I'm too much of a fighter (or too much of a masochist) to throw in the towel and march off to the locker room with my head bowed. And I guess that's why in the 2 years I was a teacher, even on the days I felt like screaming and stomping out, I stood my ground. And I'm proud of that, that I didn't give up when times got tough. That I didn't give up on the kids I loved.

The cliche goes that the right thing is hardly ever easy. Walking out is not always easy, but I believe it is rarely right. Walking out is as good as quitting; it's a sign of weakness-- a weak character, and a weak spirit. When you walk out, you're surrendering what you believe in, what you value, what you love. When you walk out, it's leaving the fight unfinished-- it's losing without trying. Ikaw ang talo.

The fight may not always be fair, but at the very least see it through to the bitter end. Especially if it's something, or someone, worth fighting for.

Before the ballot battle begins

2010-02-04T12:39:00.004+08:00

It's that time of the year again. Oscar nominations are out, and I am as excited about them as I am enthused about this season's American Idol-- which is to say, not in the slightest. I don't know what it is about 2010, but so far I am not mustering up enough interest in my usual sources of entertainment. I watched the pilot episode of Glee, and was underwhelmed (it's like High School Musical: The Series) so I haven't continued watching the rest of the series; I read through half of Zadie Smith's The Autograph Man, but haven't picked it up again in over a month; and as I mentioned, I haven't been keeping tabs on AI like I did in previous years (I miss Paula Abdul, that lovable loopy lush). And now when I should start prepping for our annual siblings' Oscar betting pool, I feel more inclined to not bother and just let either Hanks or Bens win it this year (well ok, Hanks can win, but not Bens).

I HAVE seen a couple of the 10 nominees for Best Picture though (yes, they increased the number of Best Pic noms to 10 again, crazy Academy): Inglourious Basterds, Up, District 9, The Blind Side, and of course, Avatar. I have The Hurt Locker saved in my netbook (thanks to my favorite soldier), so I'll probably watch that before they roll out the red carpet at the Kodak Theater. I do want to see An Education and Up in the Air, because I adore Peter Sarsgaard and George Clooney. But I'm lukewarm about A Serious Man (never been a big fan of the Coen brothers' films) and Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire (what the heck kind of title is that anyway?). I don't think the latter 2 movies stand a serious chance of winning anyhow.

The only other films nominated for other awards I'd like to watch prior to Oscar night are Invictus (to see my darling Matt Damon show Leo DiCaprio how to pull off a South African accent), A Single Man (Colin Firth playing a gay man: 'nuff said), and Nine (my girl crushes Nicole Kidman and Penelope Cruz in a musical? I'm there!). Crazy Heart... not too crazy about going to see it, although Jeff Bridges seems a shoo-in for Best Actor this year. Ditto Sandra Bullock for Best Actress, whose understated, uncharacteristic performance in The Blind Side seems to have made an impression with a lot of people. Personally, I thought she was very good in the movie, but very good for Sandra Bullock only, and not necessarily worthy of an Oscar. She's got a long ways to go before she reaches Meryl Streep or Helen Mirren caliber.

I still have a couple of weeks to prepare myself to fill up my Oscar ballot, but I'm not optimistic about my chances this year, if only because I'm having a hard time getting into the spirit of things (and because my brother has the dumbest luck when it comes to random guessing). In any case, I hope to catch some of the movies I wish to see, and I hope they prove to be quality films like last year's outstanding batch of nominees.

Sweet 16

2010-02-01T00:20:00.008+08:00

Aaaaand he's done it AGAIN. Roger Federer is the 2010 Australian Open champion, beating Andy Murray to notch his 16th Grand Slam title (and dash the hopes of British tennis fans everywhere). And because by now I've run out of words to describe The Mighty Fed's sheer awesomeness (AND hotness), I'm just going to let this collage c/o Yahoo! Sports do the gushing for me.

To my former students, from your (finally) former teacher

2010-01-27T00:33:00.003+08:00

"I have loved being your teacher."

That line struck a chord in me as I was watching the pilot episode of Glee (yes, I only started watching it recently). As Mr. Schuster bid farewell to the ragtag group of misfits who comprised his glee club, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrowful empathy. I know what it's like to have to say goodbye to teaching, a job that isn't so much a job as it is a vocation, a calling that requires passion and dedication unlike any other occupation. And I know full well how painful it is to give up something you truly love doing, something you feel like you were truly meant to do, as a sacrifice for family, as a difficult grown-up decision.

Last week I was in Hong Kong on a business trip, and as I was filling up the immigration departure card at the airport, my pen hovered a few seconds above the blank under "occupation", and I finished filling up all the other fields before returning to it and reluctantly writing down "businesswoman". I've been doing this ever since I stopped being a teacher and joined our family business, skipping "occupation" and leaving it for last. It's as if something inside me has never fully accepted that I am now "businesswoman" instead of "teacher". The perfect phrase to describe it would be "labag sa loob"-- there's a nuanced difference with "against my will" in that the Filipino "loob" seems to encapsulate it more accurately. The compulsion comes from deep inside my core, within my soul, for teaching was the one thing I've ever done that has resonated so profoundly with my inner being.

This year, most of my last batch of students are graduating from their respective universities and colleges. And in the same way that their graduation from ICA was bittersweet for me because it marked the end of my emotional involvement with the school I taught at for 2 years, this new milestone seems to be signaling another end for me as well. The kids I knew and loved as high school teenagers are now moving on into the world as adults, armed with BS and BA degrees, and fueled by an idealistic enthusiasm as they apply for jobs or grad school/med school/law school/fashion school. While it gives me pride and joy to see them grow up, it also leaves me with a pang of melancholy, a sense of no longer being needed, a loss of identity. When the students cease to be students, so does the teacher cease to be a teacher. Although I technically stopped being a teacher almost 5 years ago, in spirit I never really stopped feeling like theirs. Now, however, it seems as though it's time to really let go.

I still hold on to the dream that I can one day go back to teaching, even though realistically that dream seems more implausible with each year that passes. In the meantime, I have my memories, and I have Glee. And whether or not I ever return to the profession I miss so dearly, I would like to say to all my former students: I have loved being your teacher.

Say good-bye to not knowing when
The truth in my whole life began
Say good-bye to not knowing how to cry
You taught me that

And I'll remember the love that you gave me
Now that I'm standing on my own
I'll remember the way that you changed me
I'll remember

I learned to let go of the illusion that we can possess
I learned to let go, I travel in stillness
And I'll remember happiness
I'll remember...

-Madonna

What the fuss?

2010-01-13T15:02:00.006+08:00

My bloghounds may be wondering why I didn't write a review of James Cameron's ballyhooed blockbuster Avatar. Truth be told, I wasn't as blown away by the movie as most people were (including the two I saw it with, who liked it so much they went to see it a second time, in 3D). I was very impressed with the stunning visuals of course, and I give props to Cameron for producing such a spectacle of a film, combining state-of-the-art digital effects and cinematography to create a thoroughly believable and beautiful world of blue-skinned humanoids and alien flora and fauna. However, as a writer, I tend to put more weight in the narrative elements over the visual elements, and Avatar simply did not have a compelling, original enough plot (Disney's Pocahontas, anyone?) for me to take it seriously. The screenplay, penned by Cameron himself, was weak, and a lot of lines came off as lame, doing a disservice to what is an otherwise well-made movie. Which is not to say I did not enjoy it-- I did. Though the story was disappointing, the artistry more than compensated for it, and I do believe with Avatar, Cameron has taken movie-making standards up to an entirely new level, which is an awesome achievement in itself.

All that said, I find all the flak Avatar's been getting kind of ridiculous. In spite of breaking box office records and receiving critical acclaim, Cameron's opus has come under fire for different reasons. Some critics claim it's "racist", American conservatives bash it for being "anti-military", and now the Vatican is criticizing Avatar for leaning towards what the Pope calls "neo-paganism". I do see how the movie can be viewed as having racist undertones, or conveying anti-war sentiments, or even-- for the sake of humoring the old dudes who run the Catholic Church-- promoting nature as "a divinity to worship". But all this backlash just makes me think, "jeez, lighten up fellas!" These same critics blasting Avatar are the kind of nitpickers who could find politically incorrect details in children's nursery rhymes or in the nutritional content table on the back of a cereal box. In these supposedly enlightened times we live in, no one can say or write or do anything without running the risk of being labeled offensive in some way. If you don't support the war on terror, you're being unpatriotic. If you eat veal, you condone cruelty to animals. If you wear Nikes, you're funding child labor in some Third World Asian nation. If you refuse to let your date pay for her dinner, you're sexist. If you were rooting for Kris Allen over Adam Lambert during last season's American Idol, you're homophobic.

Even if James Cameron had purposely set out to make a racist, anti-imperialist, anti-military, neo-pagan movie (just like he had set out to make a blatantly anti-iceberg movie when he filmed Titanic), let's not lose sight of the fact that IT'S A MOVIE. Not everyone who watches it would be so stupid or overly sensitive as to mistake it for propaganda or a frickin' documentary. Of course there are exaggerations and caricatures. Of course certain liberties are taken. Of course there's a "message". But really, how many idiots stepped out of an IMAX theater brainwashed by Avatar into devoting their lives to save the Amazon rainforests? Stripped of its bad dialogue, high-flying action sequences, hunky leading man (P.S. I love you Sam Worthington), and ultra-fancy special effects, Avatar is merely James Cameron's idea of a good movie that would make millions. Let's save the intellectual and political debates for issues pertaining to the real, not the reel, world, shall we?

Much more than elementary

2010-01-10T11:30:00.007+08:00

When I was in high school, I went through a massive Sherlock Holmes craze. I read all of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's 56 short stories and 4 novels featuring the detective of 221B Baker Street, and since then I've always fancied myself the Sherlock Holmes expert (although with my spotty memory I really can't lay a firm claim to that). So when I saw the trailer for the new Sherlock Holmes movie directed by Guy Ritchie, I was totally psyched and couldn't wait to see it.

After watching said movie last night, I was reminded of everything I loved about the stories I read over a decade ago. Ritchie stays faithful to the spirit and soul of Sherlock, showing modern-day audiences how his brilliant mind-- as well as his vaunted ego-- works. Holmes (Robert Downey Jr., no shades of Tony Stark here) is portrayed as mentally sharp, emotionally unstable, and socially inept, as hinted at in Doyle's Sherlock Holmes canon, but he is transformed from the traditional image of scholarly London gentleman into a street-smart, bad-ass brawler. Ritchie also does a fantastic job of highlighting the now not unfamiliar "bromance" dynamic between Holmes and his trusty sidekick Dr. John Watson (Jude Law, suddenly hot again). The chemistry between Downey and Law is capital, and more than anything keeps the movie fun and light-hearted. But the overall feel of the movie is unmistakably, purely Ritchie: the gritty cinematography, the dark art direction, the smashing (pun intended) action sequences, the fast-talking "street" characters, the sardonic humor. Reminiscent of Ritchie's previous films though not as hard-hitting, as a result Sherlock Holmes is an edgy, engaging crowd-pleaser (if the loud guffaws from the boors seated behind us in the theater were any indication).

While I thought RDJ did a bang-up job of playing SH, accent and all, I couldn't shrug off the nagging thought that it's an American dude playing an iconic English figure. But though the casting of RDJ didn't sit well with me, his acting prowess was faultless. Another thought that kept running through my head was, Jude Law's BACK. Sometimes when an actor's personal exploits blemish their reputation, the public tends to forget about his talent. Sherlock Holmes reminded me why I used to crush on Jude Law, and with both this project and the upcoming The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, I daresay his career's right back on track. His Watson was the perfect straight man to RDJ's rough-around-the-edges Holmes, and the good doctor came off as sympathetic, charming and funny. I found myself missing him whenever he wasn't onscreen. As for the lovely Rachel McAdams, whom I adore, I actually thought she was ill-suited to play the cunning Irene Adler, Holmes' adversary/love interest. I'd always pictured Adler as a more mature woman, sultry rather than flirty, sexy rather than cute. Someone along the lines of Catherine Zeta-Jones or Jennifer Connelly would have been a better fit. No similar complaints about Mark Strong, who is fast becoming a reliable supporting actor to fill in the shoes of the menacing villain. His Lord Blackwood was equal parts intimidating and intelligent, smooth and sinister.

One last observation, on the plot: I wasn't expecting the "practical magic" element (Lord Blackwood is convicted of murdering 5 women in his practice of the Dark Arts), and coincidentally I had just been discussing Susanna Clarke's book Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell with someone the day before I watched Sherlock Holmes. I wondered if the screenwriters had been inspired by Clarke's premise, or if they had based it on historical research. In any case, the black magic theme matched the macabre mood that I've always associated with Doyle's stories (The Sign of Four and The Hound of the Baskervilles gave me serious heebie-jeebies).

In summation, the Sherlock Holmes buff in me was pleased by this latest incarnation and adaptation, and it bodes well for 2010 that I kicked off this year's film-viewing and -reviewing with a well-made, well-received movie. Bloody good show, chaps.

A PR nightmare of Pacific proportions

2010-01-07T16:58:00.001+08:00

Last December, the cabin crew of a Cebu Pacific flight bound for Manila from Hong Kong attempted to refuse passage for a mother and her son with Global Developmental Delay (GDD), citing company policy of not allowing 2 special children board the same flight. Apparently, a child with Down's syndrome had already gotten on the plane, so they couldn't accommodate another special child. The mother, Mylene Alcantara, is now slapping civil and criminal suits against Cebu Pacific for discrimination and for publicly humiliating her and her son.

When I saw the news report on TV last night, my mouth was actually agape in shock. What kind of flight attendants could be callous enough to approach a mother with a special kid and ask them to get off the plane? How does one even phrase that? "Um, excuse me, we need you to disembark because we've exceeded our limit for special children. Very sorry for the inconvenience, but we're just following airline policy."? And for that matter, what the hell kind of company policy is that anyway?? Is limiting the number of passengers with special needs common practice among airlines, or is it only Cebu Pacific that enforces this insensitive and unconscionable rule? Moreover, even if that rule weren't so obviously offensive, don't the passengers at least deserve the courtesy of being given prior notice, and not just be informed of it AFTER they've boarded the plane?

Then again, we are talking about the airline infamous for its countless delays, bump-offs and cancellations. I suppose it shouldn't surprise anyone that they'd have such a thoughtless and heartless policy in place. It lends a bitter irony to their slogan, "It's time everyone flies". Apparently, they don't really mean everyone.

To add insult to injury, Cebu Pacific didn't even issue a formal apology to the Alcantaras. They only reportedly sent a text message to say sorry. What kind of respectable company TEXTS to wronged customers? Would it have killed them to send an email or place a phone call, offer them free plane tickets? For crying out loud, they tried to kick them off a plane for no good reason! If it had been me, hell yeah I'd sue their politically incorrect asses off.

I've never flown Cebu Pacific before (given their infamy for countless delays, bump-offs and cancellations), and after this incident I'm even more inclined never to do so. It will be interesting, though, to see what kind of damage control their PR people do now. Perhaps the first step should be to change their company slogan.

Healthy habits for 2010

2010-01-04T15:18:00.010+08:00

Because I was pretty successful achieving my sort-of new year's resolutions last year, I've decided to draw up another themed list for this year.

Drink more water (at least 8 glasses a day).
Eat more veggies (salads over pasta!).
Get more exercise (walking, swimming, maybe yoga?).
Go to sleep earlier (will shut off my netbook at midnight).
Limit ice cream intake to once every 2 weeks (harder than it sounds, for someone whose favorite food is ice cream).

Since this is the last year of my twenties, I figure I should try to lead a healthier lifestyle before my aging body goes all to hell (if it hasn't started doing so already). I could also stand to lose several pounds and inches, as well as improve the condition of my skin, and all of the above should be able to help. Here's hoping I'll be able to stick to these resolutions for the duration of 2010, and who knows, perhaps even beyond.

Best of 2009

2009-12-31T00:20:00.010+08:00

After the very memorable 2008 I had, I was expecting 2009 to be relatively uneventful. And it started off pretty much that way: for the first time in years, I had a quiet birthday, overshadowed by Barack Obama's inauguration; after January, I didn't attend any weddings or big parties for several months; AND I was mercifully kaisiao-free for 4 months, which was quite a long dry spell for the undisputed champion of serial blind-dating.

Then in April, things started picking up: my family went on a terrific tour of Japan (with Auntie Nene, natch); my cousin Danny proposed to his girlfriend Lai (Sir Tirol and I had introduced them, making it my first truly successful matchmaking attempt); my college buddies and I bought promo-fare plane tickets for a trip to Shanghai in October; AND I got 4 kaisiao offers in a span of 2 weeks, which was a record even for me.

From there, 2009 took off, and I was taken for one of the most memorable rides of my life. My best friend Raqs took the Bar exams; Nikki gave birth to our third LM girl baby, Jacob; my cousin Joy got married; I spent 4 days in Shanghai with Angge, Yangelo, Inigo and Christine and had a blast; the Ateneo Blue Eagles won their second straight UAAP basketball championship; I went back to Japan, this time to attend my cousin Chie's wedding in Yokohama; and by the end of October, the unthinkable happened: the Kaisiao Queen finally abdicated her throne.

This year I stepped out of my comfort zone so often, there were times I wasn't sure I'd know how to get back there. I attended a belly-dancing class with some former co-teachers for Shirley's birthday (I sucked at it, but it was fun); I squeezed myself into a slinky serpentina bridesmaid dress for Joy's wedding (it was green, I might add); I started driving more (albeit still confined to the Greenhills area); I stopped wearing black as often as I used to (became enamored with purple and red); and I entered the heretofore uncharted territory of being in a committed relationship.

On a wider scale, 2009 was a year of tragedy. There was the accident that happened in the Ateneo Grade School parking lot; the AH1N1 virus and the accompanying paranoia over it spread throughout the globe; Metro Manila was laid to waste by Typhoon Ondoy; a horrifying number of lives were lost in the brutal Maguindanao Massacre; and now Mayon Volcano is on the verge of a massive eruption. 2009 also saw the deaths of so many beloved icons: Francis Magalona, Farah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, Patrick Swayze, John Hughes, Cory Aquino. But there were also many moments of redemption and hope: the spirit of patriotism and national unity rekindled while mourning Tita Cory's passing; Mar Roxas' decision to step aside and let Noynoy Aquino become the Liberal Party's presidential bet; the extensive public response to the Ondoy relief operations; and Efren Penaflorida being named CNN Hero of the Year. To sum up the year that was, the oft-used line from Dickens comes to mind: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

On a more personal level though, I will remember 2009 as the year I faced down my fears, and not only did I succeed, but I was rewarded for it with one of the best things that's ever happened to me in my life. Perhaps my only rueful thought as I look back on the past 12 months is that I let my monthly blog post count dip deplorably in the latter half of the year, but I beg my bloghounds' pardon and indulgence, for reasons given under item #6 here. Suffice it to say, my miserable output is inversely proportional to how miserable I was feeling throughout the year, so yeah, I was really, really, really happy. :)

And now, to close, my annual "Best of" list:

Best day: May 16
Best life-altering decision: saying yes
Best family vacation: tour of Japan in April
Best non-family vacation: Shanghai in October
Best traveling companion: Auntie Nene
Best wedding date: Angge
Best first date: Jon :)
Best surprise: Sheraton Saturday (double surprise =D)
Best gift given: a copy of The View From Saturday
Best gift received: 21st Century Mixed Tape
Best party: Chie's wedding reception
Best luxury item purchased: Coach multicolor Op Art Audrey, for Hanks
Best new TV show: Mad Men
Best sitcom to share with shobe: The Big Bang Theory
Best movie: Up
Best actor: Zachary Quinto
Best actress: Zooey Deschanel
Best sports hero: Roger Federer
Best book: Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, by Rachel Cohn and David Leviathan
Best author: Zadie Smith
Best CD: U2's No Line on the Horizon
Best song: "Moment of Surrender", U2
Best LSS (last song syndrome): "I've Got a Feeling", The Black-eyed Peas
Best live performance: Atlantis' production of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee
Best object of lust: Roger Federer
Best fictional object of lust: Don Draper
Best inspirational figure: Cory Aquino
Best miracle moment: scoring Lower Box tickets to the Ateneo-UE championship game
Best fashion trend: leggings/tights
Best fashion staple: short shorts
Best beauty aid: C.O. Bigelow Mentha Lip Tint
Best caffeine fix: milk tea from Serenitea
Best sweet tooth treat: Red Mango
Best meal: 10-course tofu dinner at Mei Hua in Yokohama
Best 15 minutes of fame: my review of Serenitea was framed and posted on their wall
Best achievement: overcoming fear (in more ways than one!)
Best healthy/unhealthy pasttime: phone marathons 'til past 1:00AM
Best new online preoccupation: Twitter
Best blog post: my own pick is "Much ado about nothing", about the Hayden Kho scandal, but if any of my readers wish to share a different opinion, go right ahead :)

Get your geek on

2009-12-18T12:19:00.001+08:00

Everyone who knows me knows I'm a geek, and have a thing for geeks, so how could I not love The Big Bang Theory? A sitcom for geeks, about geeks (and presumably by geeks), TBBT is right up my alley. I always appreciate a TV show with intelligent writing, but this one takes intelligent writing to a whole new level. Punchlines are peppered with factoids and formulas from physics and other branches of science, as well as references to Star Wars, Star Trek, The Lord of the Rings, and various comic book superheroes and video games. During my marathon viewing sessions (I finished season 1 in 3 or 4 sittings), I lost track of how many times an episode had me laughing out loud, so loudly I had to clamp my hand over my mouth because my sister was already shushing me.

I got my sister hooked on TBBT as well, and she observed that it's similar to another sitcom we love, How I Met Your Mother, in that the central character is overshadowed by more lovable supporting players. In this case, the central figure is Leonard (Johnny Galecki), an amiable, mild-mannered physicist (think short, unmacho Clark Kent in a hoodie and jeans). His roommate is the incredibly brilliant, insufferably arrogant, socially stunted Sheldon (the incredibly brilliant Jim Parsons), whose deadpan demeanor and delivery of intellectual putdowns encapsulate the spirit of this show, both celebrating and satirizing cerebral superiority. Leonard and Sheldon's cohorts are Raj (Kunal Nayyar) and Howard (Simon Helberg), fellow brainiacs with deficient social skills (Raj literally can't talk to women and Howard can't stop talking to/about them). Into the lives of these four friends enters Penny (Kaley Cuoco), a blond, beautiful, waitress/wannabe actress who moves across the hall from Leonard and Sheldon. Leonard develops a mad crush on Penny, who of course regards him with platonic fondness only, but the unrequited romantic feelings tend to take a backseat to the comic chaos that ensues from the dynamic between the beauty and the geeks.

That said, I do like Leonard more than Ted Mosby of HIMYM because the former is more sympathetic and endearingly sweet. But I must say Sheldon gives Barney Stinson a run for his money in terms of hilarity and personality. Where Barney is oddly charming in spite/because of his unapologetic sleaziness and narcissism, Sheldon is oddly charming in spite/because of his unapologetic snootiness and egotism. They both get the best lines and the most memorable scenes, and both Neil Patrick Harris and Jim Parsons stand out as the most polished actors with the most natural comic timing among their respective casts. The thing about Sheldon though, his appeal doesn't seem to be as universal as Barney's. As my best friend (a geek herself) said, most people she knows find Sheldon obnoxious, but the truly smart people she knows all adore him.

And I suppose that also applies to the show as a whole. TBBT might be too smart for its own good, and may not appeal to a mainstream audience as much as a musical comedy about a high school glee club or a drama series about sexy vampires. But I for one think TBBT's one of the best things to hit television in a long while, and I'm not just saying that to prove my IQ's up to par. I really am just a geek, and happy to have a TV show that gets geeks... and where the geeks occasionally get the girl.

Bee happy

2009-12-06T01:10:00.009+08:00

Several of my friends who watched earlier runs of Atlantis Productions' staging of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee had nothing but good things to say about it, so despite my disappointment over the last Atlantis show I saw (Spring Awakening), I still decided to go see the Bee. And as luck would have it, the tickets we got were for "Adult Night", which added a naughty element of fun to what turned out to be a very funny and thoroughly entertaining musical.

A smart, poignant yet light-hearted story about growing pains, the Bee revolves around 6 overachieving kids competing in, well, the 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. Each aspires to win the spelling bee for his/her own personal reasons (and some, not for their own), but the usual (and some not so usual) circumstances that make puberty a trial make winning far more complicated than spelling difficult words correctly. In this bee, the kids learn that "life is pandemonium", but there's much more to it, and much more to themselves, than winning and losing.

The Bee is staged in an interactive way that makes the audience part of the play, as the audience of the spelling bee. Also, 2 people from the audience plus 2 celebrity guests are called onstage to actually participate in the spelling bee as contestants, which offers opportunities for the cast to poke fun at these outsiders and provide more laughs. For this performance, we got Ana Capri and Toffee Calma, who weren't really all that dynamic or spontaneous (and I wished we could have gotten some A-listers instead-- Mommy Dionisia perhaps?).

But no matter, for the real stars of the show were the fabulous cast. Whatever the cast of Spring Awakening lacked in talent, the cast of the Bee made up for in spades. All the actors who played the 6 kids shone in each of their roles: Felix Rivera was adorable as boy scout and defending champion Chip, whose solo "My Unfortunate Erection" was one of the more memorable songs of the show; Pheona Baranda made political activist Logainne's lisp seem natural, not cartoonish; Johan dela Fuente showed remarkable versatility playing the playful Leaf (AND doubling as one of Logainne's gay dads); Sheila Valderrama-Martinez was perfect as Little Miss Perfect Marcy (well, almost perfect-- girl's gotta work on her cartwheels); Carla Guevara-La Forteza transformed into a shy, little girl as sweet Olive; and Lorenz Martin was delightfully snide and slobby as William Barfee (that's pronounced BarFAY, mind you).

The actors who played the adults were excellent as well: Cathy Azanza was brilliant as the effusive Mrs. Peretti, the emcee of the bee; Joel Trinidad was hilarious as Vice Principal Panch, the "pronouncer"; and Noel Rayos was outstanding as Mitch, the "Comfort Counselor" (AND the other gay dad). I can't remember the last time I couldn't find fault with a single person in a play's cast, and for a nitpicker like me, that's saying something. This ensemble was pretty special, displaying tremendous talent in both acting and singing (their dancing was quite good too!), and I really enjoyed all their performances.

To cap everything off, as a holiday treat, after curtain call the entire cast rendered a medley of Christmas carols, showcasing their superb vocal skills (props especially to Noel Rayon!). This was certainly a nice way to end what was overall a wonderfully charming show. I highly recommend anyone who hasn't watched the Bee to catch it during this December run-- even if there won't be another "Adult Night", the Christmas medley is a neat bonus to an already fantastic production. Bravo, Atlantis.

Bookworm's progress report #5, 2009

2009-11-29T02:26:00.011+08:00

I'm not proud to admit that I'm submitting this progress report just so I can add at least one more to the paltry, pathetic pair of posts I've composed in the past month. But hey, at least I actually finished a book in that same span of time. The only problem is, the previous 2 titles were from quite a ways back, so my reviews might not exactly be very detailed or thorough. Bad, bad bookworm.

The Battle of The Labyrinth (Book Four in the Percy Jackson & The Olympians series)

When you get to the second to the last book in a series, there is always a heightened sense of awareness as you search for clues as to how the whole thing's going to end. This anticipation can either work for or against the book, and in the case of The Battle of the Labyrinth, it was more of the former than the latter, although it did leave me wondering how Rick Riordan is going to create a clean conclusion in Book Five, seeing the many loose ends he left dangling by the final page of Book Four. Hero Percy Jackson goes on yet another quest, but this time the quest is not his. His friend/is-she-or-isn't-she love interest Annabeth is chosen to lead the new mission, and he goes along for the ride, along with best bud Grover the satyr and half-brother Tyson the cyclops. Their gang of four enter the Labyrinth to find Daedalus' workshop and stop the impending invasion of Camp Half-blood by Kronos' army, and in the process run into old friends and enemies, and make some new ones as well.

This book is more action-packed than its 3 predecessors, but perhaps precisely because of that, it came off as more chaotic. Too many ingredients were being thrown into the pot of boiling soup, and as the plot reached its boiling point, I feared it was going to be a recipe for disaster. Then again, my interest in Greek mythology and the likeability of Riordan's characters are sufficient to keep me hooked, and since this is the penultimate volume in the Percy Jackson series, I can't have come this far and not see it through to the end, no matter if it turns out bitter or sweet. Here's looking forward to Book Five and hoping for a big finish.

The Graveyard Book

Shortly after I finished reading The Graveyard Book, Neil Gaiman won the Newbery Medal for it, and I was really pleased he did. Not only has Gaiman penned some of my favorite books (Neverwhere among my top picks), it's refreshing to see a science fiction/fantasy author get recognized with an award for outstanding young adult literature. Indeed, The Graveyard Book is the kind of stuff kids should be reading, and not all that Twilight crap. As its title suggests, the story takes place primarily in a graveyard, where young Nobody Owens is raised and protected by its otherworldly inhabitants. Gaiman has written an intelligent, sensitive novel filled with striking and haunting imagery (pun intended), and bravely-- and beautifully-- taking on the themes of death, which is usually reserved for less young adults, and life, which is usually far scarier than death.

What I like best about what Gaiman has done with The Graveyard Book is what in my opinion all good young adult lit authors should do: trust their audience. They should never insult their intelligence by spelling everything out for them, and leave some, if not a lot, of room for their imagination to get some exercise. Gaiman achieves that here, if not because his genre does always require more stretching from said imagination, then due to his skillful subtlety as a writer. He elaborates rather than explains, explores rather than elucidates, and most importantly, engages rather than exhorts. There is no preachy moral, no clever catch-- simply a story with substance brilliantly told.

On Beauty

After having read 2 of her novels, I am counting young author Zadie Smith as one of my favorite writers, if only because she deftly brings together 2 elements I would love to also write about someday: family and ethnicity. In White Teeth, Smith throws together an Englishman with a Jamaican wife and daughter, a Bangladeshi with twin sons, and a Jewish-Catholic married couple all living in England. In On Beauty, she puts a white Englishman with an African-American wife and their 3 kids in a college town in America, where their already complicated internal conflicts are worsened and/or worsen external issues involving white intellectuals, black "brothers", Haitian immigrants, and a Trinidadian family from England who becomes entangled with the protagonists in an almost Romeo and Juliet way. Indeed, there is something almost Shakespearean in the way things unfold for the Belseys, and something tragic about each character, from the father's failings to the mother's heartaches to the children's personal odysseys of self-discovery.

The dynamics and drama of a mixed race family seem to be Smith's specialty, and she captures all the nuances perfectly. What I especially liked about On Beauty was how it trained the spotlight on every member of the family, showing 5 different points of view and revealing the thoughts and emotions of each. I also enjoyed the subplot highlighting the battle between liberals and conservatives in an academic setting, which provided a tension that was both thought-provoking and entertaining, as well as an apt backdrop against which the characters' differences were set. Smith truly is a remarkable writer, and I appreciated On Beauty so much, after I was done reading it I immediately picked up a copy of her Autograph Man, the review of which will be posted in my next progress report... whenever that'll be.

My sentiments exactly

2009-11-13T11:06:00.004+08:00

He did not consider if or how or why he loved them. They were just love: they were the first evidence he ever had of love, and they would be the last confirmation of love when everything else fell away.
- Zadie Smith, On Beauty

That is the most beautiful description of sibling love I have ever read. I'm not yet finished with the novel, but I was so struck by what Smith had written that I just had to post that quote. And if only for that passage, I will give the book a glowing review when I'm done.

My first evidence and last confirmation of love:

Summer lovin'

2009-11-03T22:17:00.000+08:00

Contrary to popular perception, 500 Days of Summer is not a chick flick; it is actually a guy movie. It is also not a love story, and the narrator makes that point-blank clear at the very start of the film. What it is is the story of hopeless romantic Tom Hansen (the very grown-up, very cute Joseph Gordon-Levitt), a frustrated architect-turned-greeting card writer, who falls head over heels for his boss' new assistant, Summer Finn (the even cuter Zooey Deschanel, my girl crush). Only problem is, Summer doesn't believe in love, and for 500 days Tom's own idealistic notions of love-- as well as his heart-- are put through the wringer.

I can imagine that even the most macho dude watching this movie would have been able to relate to Tom at some point in the non-linear sequence of events (which reminded me of How I Met Your Mother's smart use of flashbacks). The comedy and melodrama of falling hard for a girl who doesn't quite reciprocate the intensity of his feelings should be relatable to any red-blooded male. Moreover, 500 Days is one of those rare films that pulls off the precarious balancing act of being funny, yet still taken seriously. There are many laugh-out-loud moments throughout the movie, but underneath the laughs is the recognition of universal truths about romantic relationships: that yes, I have acted that dorkily for a girl before, or yes, I know what it's like to wake up in the morning and feel on top of the world because of love, or yes, I have had my heart ripped out of my chest cavity and shredded into a million pieces.

The smart storyline and novel presentation of the film are further enhanced by the natural acting and charm of its two young leads. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is adorable as Tom, and the character reminded me of Ted Mosby from HIMYM (architect too!), but sweeter and more sympathetic. My beloved Zooey Deschanel makes it easy to see how Tom becomes so smitten with Summer-- she's luminous in every scene, glowing with an almost ethereal beauty, and showing such soul in those doe eyes. But I gush.

500 Days is refreshing in its simplicity, intelligent in its straightforwardness, and realistic in its absence of sugar-coating-- much like its eponymous heroine. It's very contemporary too, which is why it resounds so much with 20- and 30-somethings who have seen it. The film paints a portrait of modern relationships as unapologetically practical, coolly unsentimental, unnecessarily complicated, and utterly, devastatingly the same as old-school relationships at the core. That line from one of my favorite romance films, Shakespeare in Love, comes to mind: "We are all fools in love." And as the promotional poster for 500 Days of Summer goes, "This is not a love story. This is a story about love." A story about love, and the fools-- bless their hearts-- who still believe in it.

Pop quiz!

2009-10-29T10:27:00.005+08:00

1. Why hasn't Ailee been blogging as regularly the past couple of months?
a) no material: she's running out of things to write about
b) no time: she's too much of a social butterfly
c) no inclination: she'd rather be doing something else
d) all of the above

2. Since she has been neglecting her blog, what has Ailee been up to online instead?
a) uploading photos to Multiply
b) getting hooked on Twitter
c) chatting on Yahoo Messenger
d) all of the above

3. Aside from her blogging, what else has suffered?
a) her reading
b) her DVD watching
c) her sleeping
d) all of the above

4. Which of the following books did Ailee start reading, only to stop after a few pages?
a) Snuff by Chuck Palahniuk
b) The Final Solution by Michael Chabon
c) Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence
d) all of the above

5. Which of the following has Ailee managed to watch in the meantime?
a) the Broadway musical Spring Awakening
b) the grossly overrated rom-com The Proposal
c) some episodes of Project Runway Philippines, Season 2
d) all of the above

6. What is the reason for Ailee's uncharacteristic blog silence?
a) self-improvement: she's curbing her overly opinionated tendencies
b) privacy: she's gradually retreating from her prolific online persona
c) laziness: she's sinking into a comfortable rut of mental inactivity
d) all of the above

7. Inquiring minds may want to know: how has Ailee's general disposition been during this period of blog silence?
a) stressed and fatigued
b) confused but content
c) hopeful and happy
d) all of the above

8. After this post, what will Ailee most probably blog about next?
a) politics
b) photography
c) pancakes
d) none of the above

So much for security

2009-10-19T12:35:00.007+08:00

Every time I enter a mall or hotel or theater and am stopped by a security guard for a bag check, I feel a twinge of exasperated annoyance. I find this so-called security measure of peeking into people's bags laughably pointless. Some guards don't even bother looking, they just poke a finger or stick into the bag and let that suffice as "checking". Others just wave a metal detector thingy in front of the bag, and even when the device emits a shrill shriek or beep, the guard allows the person through anyway. Also, most guards only check bags, but not the other packages/shopping bags the person is carrying. And there's the occasional body frisk, but really, does that result in anything other than the awkward feeling of getting groped by a total stranger?

It's all so cursory, so superficial, and so careless, if someone really wanted to smuggle firearms or what not into the premises, it would be too ridiculously easy to do so. Same thing goes for carpark security checks, when the guards open the trunks of vehicles to look for God knows what (a big box labeled "BOMB", or sticks of dynamite with a ticking clock attached?), usually not even accompanied by bomb-sniffing dogs, or armed only with that stupid long-handled mirror they run underneath the vehicle (because you know, all smart terrorists still tape their explosives to the underside of their cars).

Yesterday's daring daytime armed robbery of a pricey watch store at Greenbelt 5 only proved how insufficient and impotent these security measures are. While the guards glanced into every ominous-looking Gucci purse or Prada handbag that passed by them, they let a bunch of armed men walk right into the mall unquestioned and uncontested. Because they were wearing bomb squad uniforms. Seriously. Seriously!?! That's like the oldest trick in the Hollywood heist movie handbook! Don't they teach that in security guard school or something?? When guys with big guns ask to enter, stop and consider for a moment that THEY'RE GUYS WITH BIG GUNS. Duh.

Maybe instead of wasting time and inconveniencing innocent civilians with bag checks and car trunk inspections, security groups should focus on training their guards to identify potential security threats and spot the real dangerous individuals, not to mention know how to neutralize them. If Taguig Mayor Freddie Tinga's bodyguards (who happened to be in the vicinity because Tinga was lunching nearby) hadn't engaged the robbers in a shootout, all the crooks would have gotten away free and clear. Security guards around the city need to do more than stand at mall entrances pressing clickers to keep track of daily foot traffic. They should dispense with the silly procedure of searching for lethal weapons in tiny purses and concentrate on REALLY securing the area they're supposed to be guarding against, oh say, the people toting huge-ass guns.

The ironic thing is, because of what happened at Greenbelt, now all malls and other commercial establishments are going to be even more paranoid and go on heightened alert for fear of becoming the next target of armed robbers. So over the next few weeks, we're probably going to see stricter "security measures", like 2-second bag peeks instead of the 1-second standard, metal-detector gadgets that shriek more loudly, and bigger mirrors with longer handles to scan car underbellies with. Hell, maybe they'll start doing random cavity searches. I feel safer already.

Making the grade

2009-10-17T18:06:00.001+08:00

Last week, my favorite unabashedly Ateneanly biased blog Nonoy For President published a blind item of sorts about one of our Blue Eagles having been informed by one of his professors that he had flunked her class... before Game 3 of the Finals against UE. A few days later, I heard the same bit of campus chismis from another reliable source, so I assumed it must be for real. I had mixed reactions to the news. On the one hand, the true Blue fangirl in me was appalled by the apparent callousness of the prof-- "How can the bitch be so heartless?? Cut the kid some slack!" On the other hand, the exasperatingly ethical former teacher in me shrugged it off as, "If he failed, he failed. A basketball championship doesn't and shouldn't change that."

Back when I was still teaching, whenever students came up to me after receiving their report cards to thank me for "giving" them a good grade, I would always reply, "Don't thank me, that grade came from you, not me." And while I have never been one to put much stock in grades as an accurate measure of real learning, to a certain extent they do reflect the effort, and sometimes the acumen, a student devoted to the class. Technically, we aren't supposed to regard grades as reward or punishment, for objectively they're really just an evaluation of performance, and nothing personal. But realistically, they ARE personal, because they are the product of both the person who earned them, and the person who decided what the other one deserved.

However, the personal nature of grades doesn't imply that they should be doled out based on emotions alone, such as pity. There still has to be some concrete basis for grades, some tangible evidence of achievement or progress. This is why the proposal to issue "calamity diplomas" to students affected by the devastation wreaked by Typhoon Ondoy was simply ludicrous. Thankfully, the idea was quickly dismissed by the DepEd, and just as quickly qualified by Senator Chiz Escudero, who explained that he had merely suggested relaxing requirements for the current semester in consideration of students victimized by Ondoy. This is pretty much what Ateneo did for its entire student population from grade school to university level, cancelling final exams across the board for this current grading period. That's cura personalis for you, and that's the right balance between sticking to the letter of the law, so to speak, and honoring its spirit.

So if the unnamed Blue Eagle hadn't put in the work, if he had slacked off and taken the class for granted the whole sem, possibly thinking no profs flunk varsity basketball players anyway, then he definitely had the F coming, and the teacher had every right to deal it to him. But if there had been some effort, if there had been some wiggle room, some leeway to be given, then perhaps the prof should have extended consideration to a kid who, let's face it, had been kinda too busy majoring in basketball to actually get any studying done. Or at the very least she could have waited until after Game 3 to break the news to him. No one should get a free pass, but everyone should bear in mind a grade is always more than a mere number or letter.

Alas, Atlantis, Spring fell short

2009-10-12T13:44:00.011+08:00

I had high expectations for Atlantis Productions' staging of the Broadway musical Spring Awakening because 1) it had won 8 Tony Awards in 2007; 2) the music is written by Duncan Sheik, and I've always loved Duncan Sheik; and 3) Atlantis had impressed me with their production of Hairspray last year. And perhaps because of my high expectations, Spring Awakening, sadly, failed to wow me.

I suspect that, more than anything, it was the lackluster acting from the cast of relative unknowns that diminished my enjoyment of the show. The material was compelling enough: set in Germany in 1891, the story revolves around a group of teenagers discovering their burgeoning sexuality, and coming to terms with it within the repressive and oppressive society they're growing up in. However, the seething passions and roiling emotions weren't conveyed convincingly enough by the young (and not-so-young) actors, led by Joaquin Valdes playing the idealistic intellectual Melchior, and Kelly Lati in the role of sweet, innocent Wendla. The effort was there, to be sure, but the best acting should always come off as effortless, and throughout the play I just saw a lot of ... trying. The singing was good, but not great, and only Valdes' voice showed any potential for power in terms of both range and feeling. Moreover, the execution of the choreography was disappointing, lacking fluidity and grace, and served to distract from rather than contribute to the overall performance.

Duncan Sheik's score was catchy, but I found Steven Sater's lyrics wanting for poetry, and not really very memorable (to illustrate: two days later I still have the song "Totally Fucked" stuck in my head, but only the part that goes, "Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah"). I did like "The Word of Your Body" and "Don't Do Sadness/Blue Wind", but the latter was ruined for me by the poor enunciation of Nicco Manalo, who played Moritz. Throughout the play, I could hardly understand what he was saying/singing half the time. Pity, because Moritz was one of the most engaging characters, and pity too because Bea Garcia, who played Ilse, did an excellent job singing "Blue Wind". Garcia also held her own in "The Dark I Know Well" alongside bossa nova singer Sitti, who was surprisingly nondescript as Martha. Again, I had expected to be blown away by raw emotion during that particular number, as it is a song brimming with anger, fear, and self-loathing, but I was underwhelmed instead.

I now wonder if I would gain a better appreciation of Spring Awakening given a different production or at least a different cast. I get the sense that the musical itself is actually much better than what I had seen, so this time around I think Atlantis let me down. That said, I still give them credit for putting on an entertaining show, and for bringing quality Broadway musicals to local audiences. I look forward to the next one.

The will to win

2009-10-10T01:48:00.008+08:00

Because I had the incredibly good fortune to score last-minute Lower Box tickets to yesterday's championship game between Ateneo and UE, my BBFF (Best Blue Fellow Fan) Yang and I had an amazing vantage view of all the action on the hardcourt. And thanks to that vantage view, we could clearly see the fire burning in the eyes of our boys in blue.

I've gotten so used to sitting (or standing) in Gen Ad and Upper Box that I had forgotten what it's like to see the players up close, and how evident the emotions on their faces can be. The set jaws, the steely stares, the animal yells, the pained grimaces, the rueful smiles, the smug smirks, the confident swaggers... in the heat of battle, there's no concealing what the combatants are feeling, and yesterday it was crystal clear the Eagles were flying high on passion. From start to finish, there was never any doubt that they came to win, that they wanted to win, and that desire to win was manifest in their aggressive offense, unyielding defense, tireless rebounding, and unwavering focus. Coming from a humbling and even humiliating loss in Game 2, in Game 3 our boys dug deep, and proved it's all about PUSO. And as UST coach Pido Jarencio once said, "Never i-underestimate ang pusong Atenista".

It was actually the memory of Ateneo's 2006 finals defeat to UST that worried me going into our last match against UE. Back then we had similarly taken Game 1 by a close margin, then lost Game 2 in a blowout, and ultimately fell to the Tigers in Game 3. That was also the year of Milenyo, which had delayed the series, the same way this season's finals were delayed by Ondoy. With the uncanny similarities, I couldn't help but picture a scenario where UE coach Lawrence "Walang Buhaghag" Chongson would pull a Pido on us and snatch victory from our outstretched talons in his rookie season. Also, terrifying visions of Red Warriors Paul Lee, Elmer Espiritu, and Val Acuna sinking three-pointer after three-pointer danced through my head (as well as terrifying visions of Pari Llagas, period). I was fully expecting a close contest, and fully counting on the Eagles to defend their crown with everything they got, down to the last second.

As it turns out, they didn't have to, but they gave it all they got anyway. And it was a joy to see our boys play their hearts out. Kirk Long showed no traces of his usual hesitation, Nonoy Baclao was his usual made-of-basketball-awesome self, Ryan Buenafe regained his fighting form, Jai Reyes' shotgun was locked and loaded, Eric Salamat shot, stole, and saluted, and Rabeh Al-Hussaini kept his temper under control and his stats up to MVP standards. By no means was it the perfect game (they missed way too many free throws and fastbeak scoring opportunities), but by golly it was a damn good fight. The sizable difference in the final scores indicates a blowout, but I have to point out the Warriors were no slouches. And though a lot of their shots just didn't seem to want to sink in, they still kept fighting, and I didn't allow myself to relax or start celebrating until the dying minutes of the match.

By the way, I was glad to see the UE gallery didn't empty out early like during last year's semis match. The Warriors deserved to be cheered by their supporters even after a disappointing outcome. They were one of the most exciting teams to watch this season, and their players truly do have mad skills. And their coach has great hair.

But back to Blue. Or Black. Norman Black, that is. In the fallout of Game 2, there were snide whispers of "benta si Black", and since I didn't get to watch the game, I can't say whether or not there was basis for suspicion. In my previous post, I stated my stand on accusing players of game-throwing, and I extend the same benefit of the doubt to Coach Norman. Besides, just as I saw the intensity in the way the Eagles played yesterday, I also saw the respect they have for their coach, in how they carried out his plays, how they respond to his instructions and admonishments, and how they hoisted him onto their shoulders when the game was won. I have a hard time believing any mentor can repay such loyalty with treachery. I'm more inclined to think Game 2 was lost due to overconfidence more than anything.

Thankfully, there was none of that in Game 3, and even when they were leading by as much as 20 points the Blue Eagles didn't get complacent. When it comes to big sports victories, people tend to wax poetic with words like "destiny" and "believe", but yesterday's win didn't feel so much fated as earned, through grit and hustle and teamwork. And yesterday's win didn't feel so much destined as deserved.

To Jai, Nonoy and Rabeh, I'm glad I got to watch you play your last game for the Blue and White. Thanks for the blood, sweat and tears you poured into bringing glory and honor to our beloved alma mater. You were among the finest to wear Ateneo jerseys, and you will be sorely missed next season. We pray Mary keeps you constantly true, and always true Blue.

To the rest of our boys in blue, I'm proud of how far you've come and how you stepped up when called on. Though the team is losing 3 key guys next year, there is still a lot of talent among you; and though you may not dominate, though the goal of a "threepeat" seems far too lofty and ludicrous at this point, nevertheless we hold high hopes for you to fly high. Win or lose, we'll be rooting for you.

Here's to the champions. Here's to keeping the crown in Loyola. Here's to a great season, and here's to one more reason ang sarap maging Atenista.

Go Ateneo, ONE BIG FIGHT!

Far Eastern folly

2009-09-25T12:39:00.003+08:00

Recently deposed FEU team captain Mark Barroca must be feeling a wee bit vindicated now that the Tamaraws have crashed out of the UAAP Final Four. After unceremoniously (and unfairly) kicking Barroca off the team under unfounded allegations of game-throwing, FEU got its karmic bite-on-the-ass when their twice-to-beat advantage went down the drain in the face of the fierce UE Red Warriors. I must say I derived some satisfaction from this outcome, not only because the sight of UE coach Lawrence "Balik-Ayos" Chongson crying like a baby was oddly moving, but also because my stand on game-throwing has always been: if you can't prove it, shove it. I feel particularly strongly about this when it comes to collegiate sports. School officials simply can't go around hurling accusations at student athletes, potentially ruining their future sports careers as well as besmirching their character. If they have the hard evidence, then by all means sanction the kid, expel him, throw the whole book at him. But if they can't back up their claims, it's both irresponsible and unethical to engage in finger-pointing and mudslinging.

Everyone was expecting Ateneo-FEU for the finals this year, but thanks to their gross mishandling of the Barroca issue, FEU's season just skidded to a sorry halt. Barroca was both a seasoned player and steady leader, and whatever anyone says about him I'm sure his absence from the lineup made a difference, if not in points then in team morale. And you'd think the university would have shown a bit more utang na loob to a guy who's devoted a significant chunk of his time and energy playing ball for his school. Instead of giving him the benefit of the doubt though, they threw him to the wolves. I'm not saying Mark Barroca is innocent; I'm saying he should be presumed innocent until proven guilty. FEU, on the other hand, has just been proven foolish.

Stars behaving badly

2009-09-15T23:58:00.001+08:00

In case you haven't heard by now, my beloved Roger Federer was defeated by Juan Martin Del Potro in the US Open final. Don't worry, I'm ok (albeit a wee lightheaded from having gotten up at 5AM to catch the live telecast of the match). I'm not upset Roge lost, Del Po was definitely the better player and deserved his first Grand Slam title. It was also sweet the way the gangly, gigantic Argentine clambered up to his sparsely occupied box to hug his coach and 2 unidentified supporters (vis a vis Federer's packed box populated by family and celeb friends-- hello Gavin and Gwen!), and even more touching when the 20-year-old choked up after acknowledging his absent parents in his native tongue (BTW that emcee was a total a-hole for refusing Del Po's first request to say something in Spanish).

I AM disappointed The Mighty Fed was not his usual mighty self and did not show off the magic we've come to expect of The Swiss Maestro, but I'm glad he didn't seem too broken up about losing to the younger, less experienced Del Potro. I loved how he gave his opponent props: "I would like to congratulate Juan Martin on an unbelievable tournament. I had a great one, but he was the best." And I loved even more what Del Po said in return: "When I would have a dream, it was to win the US Open, and the other one is to be like Roger. One is done. [addressing Federer] I need to improve a lot to be like you. I'd like to congratulate you for fighting 'til the last point." Gracious in defeat, gracious in victory. Good job, gentlemen.

It's nice to see some courtesy on court after the now infamous incident involving Serena Williams that took place a couple of days ago during her US Open semis match against Kim Clijsters. The younger Williams sister blew up at a lineswoman who called a foot fault while she was serving, 2 points away from losing the match to Clijsters. Serena stomped over to get in the lineswoman's face, and reportedly screamed profanities and even a death threat ("I will kill you! You're lucky I don't shove this ball down your f*cking throat!"), which prompted the chair umpire to slap a point penalty on her for unsportsmanlike conduct, effectively costing her the match. It was a very ugly way to bow out of the tournament, and reactions to Serena's hissy fit, if the blog posts and tweets about it are any indication, have been mostly negative and censuring, and rightly so.

What was in the water at Flushing Meadows this year? It seemed we saw more than our fair share of diva antics and temper tantrums (paging Andy Murray). Even Roger Federer, the king of composure himself, lost his cool during his match against Del Potro, although it was to bitch at the incompetent chair umpire, who sucked at both controlling the rowdy crowd and handling challenges by the players. When Federer complained to him about accommodating a late challange from Del Potro, he told Roger to be quiet, to which RF snapped, "Don't tell me to be quiet, ok. When I want to talk, I talk. I don't give a shit what you say." Perhaps that was a bit much, but it actually shut up the useless umpire. Besides, I found this uncharacteristic flash of temper quite hot. Hehe.

Ok, so there's simply no excuse for foul language or violent outbursts, even from-- nay, especially from tennis superstars, whom many young people look up to. But what about outright boorish behavior from popular recording artists? Yup, I'm talking about Kanye West, a.k.a. the biggest prima donna douchebag on the planet, outdid himself this time by creating the most awful scene at the MTV Video Music Awards when he actually WENT ON STAGE to interrupt Taylor Swift's acceptance speech for Best Female Video, and declared that he thought Beyonce should have won instead. Poor Taylor Swift was stunned into silence and couldn't finish her speech, and the audience erupted in boos for the unbelievably obnoxious hiphop star.

Later in the show, Beyonce, in a classy move that would make Sasha Fierce proud, attempted to make amends by cutting short her own shoutout time and giving Taylor Swift the chance to finish her rudely truncated speech. The difference between that gesture and the horrid stunt Kanye pulled is so vast, we'd have to catapault Kanye to Timbuktu to approximate how far apart they are (and I wish we COULD get rid of the SOB so easily!).

People like Kanye not only deserve to be stripped of the privileges and recognition that come with fame and fortune, but they should be tarred and feathered for abusing them. It's reassuring though that the general uproar and backlash over the VMA incident convey a collective condemnation of Kanye. It gives me a shred of hope to hang on to, that society has not degraded to a point where the faults of its idols-- from entertainment or sports-- are forgiven too easily. When we refuse to let them get away with it, we obligate them to earn our respect and admiration, and conduct themselves in a manner worthy of hero worship. After all, we're the ones who put them on a pedestal, so we can bring them down if we want to, when we have to.

Something I got from Tim Yap

2009-09-11T12:09:00.001+08:00

As loath as I am to reference anything remotely related to Tim Yap, last week I came across a feature written by the self-proclaimed "eventologist" in the Philippine Star that actually appealed to me. It was based on The Gap's "Born To _____" campaign, and accompanying the article were several photos of celebrities holding a whiteboard with that tag line, plus their handwritten answers filling in the blank. Some of the answers were predictable ("Born To Make a Difference"), some were odd ("Born to Stay Home"), some were smart ("Born to Chance"), some were cute ("Born to Sparkle and Shine"), some were sweet ("Born to (daughters' names)"). Overall, I was amused by the whole concept.

Yesterday morning on my way to work, for some reason I remembered the "Born To _____" gimmick, and I started coming up with my own responses to complete the line. Here are my top 10:

Born To Benito and Huya
Born To Be a Big Sister
Born To Write
Born To Teach
Born To Be Blue (OBF!)
Born To Bitch
Born To (Over)Sleep
Born To (Over)Think
Born To Choose
Born To Love

What about you guys? Go ahead and tell me, what were you "Born To _____"?

For Raqs, for making me think :)

2009-09-07T12:55:00.004+08:00

Last night I was on the phone talking to my best friend Raqs, after her grueling first day of Bar exams. I had gone to see her at the Sheraton where the UP Law barristers were housed last Saturday, accompanied by my tag team partner Angge and the 4th member of our "Rated R" group, our good buddy Dex. I could tell Raqs really appreciated our visit, and I was happy we had been able to show our support, boost her spirits, and supply her with enough snacks and medication and Kleenex (for her perpetual cold!) to get her through the 4 weekends of the Bar.

Toward the end of our phone conversation, Raqs brought up something that resonated with me. She said, there are certain friends of whom you can ask a limitless number of favors, and yet not feel indebted to them, or get the sense that you're inconveniencing or taking advantage of them. There's no "hiya" involved, no reservations or reluctance from either side, just an assurance that help is available when needed, no strings attached. And it takes a special kind of friend to provide that unconditional, all-weather, I'll-be-there-for-you dependability. These are the friends you call when you get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere, or when you need someone to bail you out of jail (or a bad blind date), or when you're looking for someone to donate blood... or a kidney.

The past weekend made me realize that I am incredibly lucky to have more than my fair share of people in my life who would not only go out of their way for me (literally and figuratively), but also not "count" favors and expect anything in return. And it also dawned on me that, conversely, I am blessed to have so many people in my life for whom I would go the extra mile, to whom I would give without counting the cost, and by whom I would stand through both tribulations and celebrations. I can only hope I will always find the generosity of sprit, strength of character, and bigness of heart to be there for those I love whenever they need me.

"If you call, I will answer
If you fall, I'll pick you up
If you court this disaster
I'll point you home, I'll point you home..."
-Barenaked Ladies

Mar the man!

2009-09-02T13:14:00.009+08:00

I didn't think he had it in him.

But yesterday, Senator Mar Roxas, one of the most prolific presidential aspirants for the 2010 elections, relinquished his bid for the presidency to give way to fellow Liberal Party member Senator Noynoy Aquino. In a press conference held at Club Filipino last evening, Roxas declared:

"I do this for unity in support of change. And if that means somebody must make the sacrifice, it must be me."

In spite of my developed distrust of Philippine politicians, I was genuinely impressed by this show of selflessness, humility, and patriotism. This is something we don't see everyday, a government leader setting aside personal ambition for the greater good of the nation. Never mind if this might have been a calculated move on Mar's part-- I'm sure he still has some vested interests in all this. The point is, he still made the tougher choice: even after months of preparations, millions spent on advertising, and extensive media mileage milked to spotlight his engagement to Korina Sanchez, he threw all that out the window and stepped aside for Noynoy. Mar manned up, and heeded not only the call of the people, but also the call of destiny, and what makes his acquiescence so admirable is that the destiny in question is not even his own. That took significant internal (and testicular) fortitude, and I sincerely respect him for that.

Last year I wrote about the deplorable state of our country's politics, and lamented that we don't have someone like Barack Obama to inspire us and renew our faith in the system again. With Mar Roxas' big decision, I suddenly feel a spark of hope for the future of the Philippines. Noynoy may not be our Obama, but at least for now, Mar's act of sacrifice strikes me as decidedly Obama-esque in its class and character. Dare I say this could be the start of "change we can believe in"?

Noynoy has yet to formally announce that he will indeed run for president next year, but with Mar's withdrawal, it's pretty much a foregone conclusion. I fully expect Noynoy to pick Mar to be his running mate, and I fully intend to vote for that tandem. For the first time, I am excited about the 2010 elections, and the potential, the possibilities and the promise of a better Philippines they could bring... that true statesmen and true gentlemen like Noynoy and Mar could bring.

Aquino-Roxas in 2010!

For Rachel Lim, on her 21st birthday

2009-08-29T12:06:00.005+08:00

Last month, my student and fellow TRAK star Rach asked me to compose her college yearbook write-up for her. I was bowled over. Rach and I are pretty close, sure, but she's got so many good friends in her life, people who have known her since forever, that I was surprised and honored she picked me, her former high school English teacher, out of all of them.

Today, Rach celebrates her 21st birthday. And as a tribute and a note of thanks to the girl who has given me so many happy birthdays of my own, I'm posting the yearbook write-up I penned for her. Because even people who won't be getting a copy of the Aegis should know just how awesome Rach is, and just how much I adore her.

Her name is Rachel, and she’s a shoe addict.

But Rach is so much more than her Imeldific footwear collection. Not only is she a fierce fashionista, she’s also an up-and-coming young entrepreneur. The success of online brand Poisonberry was the fruit of her flair for fashion, enterprising spirit, and enduring friendships with her business partner, models, photographers, and customers.

And perhaps that, above all, is what defines Rach: not the dozens of killer heels in her closet, but the legions of friends she has in her life. Unswervingly loyal and unstintingly devoted, Rach always finds enough time and energy to nurture her relationships with the people who matter to her. From throwing surprise parties to organizing class reunions to supporting her friends’ events and activities—it all speaks of her enormous capacity for generosity and love.

Her name is Rachel, and she’s a shoe addict. But what she’s got on her feet has nothing on what she’s got in her heart. Don’t judge a girl by her stilettos.

Happy Birthday Rach!Love, Ms. Lim

High marks for Up

2009-08-22T12:36:00.000+08:00

Prior to watching Up, I read a review of it that began like this:

If you haven't seen Up yet, stop reading right now and run to your nearest 3D cinema and watch it. Go! Now! Wait, bring your friends, your parents, your lolo and lola, your best friend. Better yet, bring the love of your life, that one you're going to marry, that one you're going to propose to soon, that someone you've been pining for since you met but haven't got the chance or the courage to do so. Bring them. I guarantee you, this is one movie watching experience you want to do with them.

I was puzzled by the second half of that passage, because as far as I knew, Up was an animated film about a grumpy old man who hitches his house to a gazillion balloons and flies off, inadvertently taking a rotund boy scout along for the ride. How exactly is that something you'd want to see with "the love of your life"? Adding to my mystification was my brother's report from his friends who have seen Up that it's "a love story". A love story from Pixar, riiiiight.

But it all made perfect sense to me barely 15 minutes into the movie, as tears were already trickling down my face (and I would cry several more times after that). By golly, Up WAS a love story, and a very beautiful one at that. I won't go into details lest I spoil the impact for anyone; suffice it to say I was truly moved by this unexpected facet of this brilliant gem of a film.

And its other facets were just as flawless. As a cartoon, it was a visual treat (or I SHOULD say "delight", hehe)-- the colors were candy-coating vibrant and really popped (no, that wasn't a balloon pun), the characters were just cute, cute, cuuuuute as heck, and the backdrops and props were rendered in painstaking, breath-taking detail. As a comedy, it was laugh-out-loud funny, with the right balance of well-timed physical comicality and smart verbal humor. As a story with a message, it was inspiring and heart-warming without being sappy, delivering the normally trite themes of "pursuing your dreams" and "life as an adventure" with a refreshing guilelessness-- no preachiness, no melodrama, no hard-sell, just a simplicity, an innocence, and a purity, almost, that were far more effective, and paradoxically, far more powerful.

Ultimately (and no pun intended again), Up is a joyfully buoyant movie. It will appeal to the young because of its spirit, and it will appeal to the not-as-young with its soul. It will make the young ponder their old age, and it will make the not-as-young reflect on their youth. And regardless of the age, it will tug on the heart, and lift it up, up, up. And that's why I cried so many times throughout. And that's why, as Tatot wrote, you should watch it with someone special.

The better and the best of us

2009-08-18T17:37:00.004+08:00

Last Sunday night, I made it a point to watch the rerun of the Ateneo-La Salle Round 2 game because that afternoon I had arrived late at Araneta and missed a good chunk of the 1st half. And since my friends and I had been up in the nosebleed section anyway, it was only on TV that I saw the sweet shot Blue Eagle Eric Salamat made sometime in the 2nd quarter, after which he acknowledged the Ateneo crowd with a grin and a snappy salute. Mere seconds later, everyone's favorite Green Archer Joshua Webb made a shot as well, then promptly turned to the Ateneo gallery with his signature smirk, and threw them a mocking salute. It would actually have been a nice angas move... IF La Salle hadn't been down by about, what, 20 points?

It's that kind of uncalled for behavior that makes Webb arguably the most detested DLSU player this season (and apparently, not just on the blue side of things). After he kicked Bacon Austria in the Round 1 match, my already low opinion of him plummeted even further. A La Sallian friend of mine tried to mollify me by saying, "It happens to the best of us." But that statement didn't sit well with me. I know what my friend meant, that even the best of us screw up sometimes; that when pushed, we lash out in anger or act rashly or stupidly. However, I don't think we should use "It happens to the best of us" to excuse deplorable actions, particularly of violence, regardless of whether malice was involved or not. Because I believe "the best of us" would never resort to that. There have been basketball players, more skilled than Webb will ever be, who have never thrown a punch or cussed at a referee or kicked an opponent. There are young people from less prominent, less monied families, from less prominent, less elite schools, who show more breeding and comport themselves like educated individuals, not brutish thugs. Those class acts are the ones who deserve to be called "the best of us". Joshua Webb, definitely not.

On the other hand, while I revile Webb as much as the next Atenean (or even La Sallian), I also readily admit the kid is pretty damn good, not only in basketball, but in getting under our collective Atenean skin. His cocky manner, his smug smirk, his aggressive drives to the basket-- Webb excels at pissing us off, and occasionally sending our players' tempers flaring as well, to the detriment of the team's focus. For one guy to get the better of us that easily says something not only about him, but about us as well. I confess I'm still wishing for someone to "accidentally" step on Webb's face (or for Bacon to sit on it), but I acknowledge I shouldn't stoop to any juvenile or barbaric level everyone else sinks to. While the arrogance and the antagonism are all part of the game-- an ugly part, yes, but there's really no getting rid of it-- someone should at least try to rise above them. And THAT would be "the best of us".

Relapse

2009-08-15T20:49:00.002+08:00

The song "Insensitive" by Jann Arden never fails to remind my best friend of me, and for that reason, it never fails to bring a rueful smile to my face. It's become a running joke, originating from our high school days when she'd often call me out for being, well, insensitive. When she began associating the aptly titled song with me, I couldn't exactly protest, because I acknowledge that when it comes to other people's feelings, I tend to be quite slow on the uptake. Back then I attributed it to low EQ more than anything, an inability (or at least incompetence) to process and respond to emotions. But I have grown up a lot since high school, and I'd like to think that since then, my lapses in sensitivity have decreased in both frequency and gravity. I'd also like to think that it's leaning more toward sheer density now, a mere cluelessness rather than a cold disregard for others' feelings.

However, I do admit that there is still a part of me that neglects to take others' feelings into account, and I make no excuses for that. I was never naturally good at interpersonal relations; I have to work at it and make a conscious effort to be a good sister/daughter/friend/colleague/teacher/boss. Despite best efforts though, I still occasionally mess up and end up inadvertently offending or hurting someone. I was recently reminded of this, and even though I initially bristled at how my good intentions were misinterpreted, I ultimately took it as a welcome wake-up call that perhaps I'm slipping back into my insensitive ways again. Time to recalibrate my sensors and give my EQ a tune-up. And time to get Jann Arden out of my head.

Lifestyles of the rich and heinous

2009-08-13T12:52:00.003+08:00

I know someone who balks at eating at restaurants he deems overpriced. The way he sees it, P300 spent on one entree can just as easily be spent feeding 10 homeless kids. And to him, it's unconscionable to pay so much for a single meal while so many people are going hungry. It's what our Theology teachers in Ateneo taught us to identify as "social sin", and while my inherently capitalistic nature can't entirely reconcile with this concept (and I still happily shell out P300 for a burger at Chili's), I do understand and, to a certain extent, appreciate the spirit behind it.

Social sin was one of the things that immediately came to my mind upon learning of the now infamous $20,000 dinner President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo and her Entourage of Evil enjoyed at swanky New York restaurant Le Cirque. But social sin does not even begin to cover the sordidness of it all. It's one thing for me to shell out 300 bucks out of my own pocket for a burger; it's quite another for elected public officials to blow a million pesos in ill-gotten gains (and OF COURSE it's all ill-gotten) on fancy food and wine. For chrissake, does ANYone swallow the bullshit the GMA spin doctors are force-feeding us that Congressman Martin Romualdez footed the bill with his own money? What, did the generous Representative from Leyte shoulder the travel expenses for the whole junket too (because that's all this trip to the US really was, another junket for GMA and her lapdogs)?

But let's give the bastards and their Queen Bitch the benefit of the doubt and assume that Romualdez actually paid for the Le Cirque dinner (which Romualdez though, hmm? get your stories straight, morons). Somehow that doesn't make it any less outrageous. It's simply BAD ETHICS and POOR TASTE for government leaders of a Third World nation to be indulging in a ridiculously expensive meal while millions of their consitituents back home lead hand-to-mouth existences. Whenever I travel, especially to the US, I always avoid spending more than what I should, given the already astronomical costs of airfare and accommodations, but I admit I have no qualms about treating myself to at least one good, if overpriced, meal. But I'm NOT President of a country drowning in debt and strangled by poverty. I'm NOT accountable to the taxpayers, whose hard-earned wages subsidize politicians' supposedly paltry salaries. And I certainly did NOT take an oath to be an upstanding public servant-- SERVANT, you hear that, asswipes? You're supposed to be serving us, not robbing us blind and stuffing your fat faces with caviar and champagne.

According to new reports coming out now, apparently GMA and company also racked up a hefty bill ($15,000) at a steakhouse in Washington DC after their meet-and-greet with US President Barack Obama. Also, a source from the Philippine embassy in New York says Gang Greed dined at Le Cirque not just once but twice, and they were chauffered to the restaurant in stretch limos (snazzy!). Moreover, their rooms at the Waldorf-Astoria cost a pretty penny... all charged to the consulate.

I can justify the tendency to commit social sin, as I am frequently "guilty" of it myself. But what GMA and the leeches around her are guilty of is not only the Catholic concept of social sin-- they are guilty of violating the public trust, betraying the most basic of ethical standards, AND committing crimes against their country, if not through malfeasance, then through sheer bad taste. Even pleading poor judgment makes it no less inexcusable and unpardonable. This brazen display of extravagance communicates a complete disregard for the welfare of the people they serve, and the cavalier attitude the Arroyo administration is adopting in answer to the backlash speaks not only of the kind of government officials, but the kind of human beings they are: devoid of social, civic, and moral conscience.

I guess a little Cirquemspection is too much to ask of these corrupt clowns.

Props and pans: ADMU vs DLSU in review

2009-08-10T12:22:00.000+08:00

Yesterday's humdinger of an Ateneo-La Salle match showcased the best and the worst from both schools, as always tends to happen when the 2 rival universities go head-to-head. Allow me to rip off Stephen Colbert's "Tip of the Hat/Wag of the Finger" segment and commend/condemn the following classy and unclassy acts:

Tip of the Hat to everyone from both schools who wore yellow in honor of Tita Cory
Wag of the Finger to the very loud, very annoying, very palengkera young Atenean seated in the same row as us in Gen Ad
Tip of the Hat to Bro. Bernie Oca of DLSU for using St. Ignatius' Prayer for Generosity in his portion of the opening prayer, very nice touch
Wag of the Finger to the jackass in the DLSU gallery for bellowing "GO LA SALLE!" half-a-second after Bro. Oca finished speaking, even before the solemn ceremony for Cory was done
Tip of the Hat to the Green Archers for raising the laban sign while "Bayan Ko" was being played
Wag of the Finger to Rabeh Al-Hussaini for playing like a shadow of the MVP from last season (yes, even the best players have their off days, but Rabeh was obviously playing tentatively, if not half-heartedly)
Tip of the Hat to the DLSU cheering squad for not doing their usual "La Salle Spelling" move where they turn around to face and goad the Ateneo crowd
Wag of the Finger to Green Archer Joshua Webb for kicking Blue Eagle Bacon Austria (Webb played well, but then had to pull that stupid stunt that broke his team's momentum and possibly cost them the game)
Tip of the Hat to Eric Salamat, Nonoy Baclao, Ryan Buenafe, Nico Salva, AND Bacon Austria (!!) for maintaining their composure and focus in the end game and for... well, bringing home the bacon (it HAD to be said)