She would block her tiny body against the TV screen whenever I raise the remote to that direction, as if that would prevent the channel from changing--my daughter loves Higgly Town Heroes, that much. So most of the time, I get to watch it with her. I even know the songs, and actually notice if the episode is a re-run. There's only one tiny thing I notice about the show that causes me to feel one tiny misgiving. There's this part in every Higgly Town episode where a problem will crop up, which is apparently "too big" a job for the Higgly Town kids, and so they need some help from the Higgly Town Hero featured for that show. Anyway, that's not where I saw something. It's that part where Twinkle would think of a very "lofty" idea to solve a problem, before giving up and eventually ask for help from the adults, because Fran, the squirrel character, and also their baby-sitter, would always bring it down with a condescending "Great idea there, Twinkle, but..."

I know kids should be taught logic and that the moon is not made of green cheese, but what's the big idea with "I hate to rain on your parade, Twinkle, but there are no such things as flying elephants and ant engineers..." This may sound cringy, but What became of make-believe? What became of dreams of being a swan or a princess in a sugar-coated kingdom? Should my daughter skip all of these and think like a realist, already? (Come to think of it, a talking squirrel, advising about reality, is a contradiction. Or was that the point I failed to see?) Recently, though, I had observed a noticeable cutting down with the "come on that's not possible" attitude. And the squirrel is actually "riding" with Twinkle, like inventing her own "fantastic" reasons like "the flying elephants are oiling their wings" instead of a cold, hard, "flying elephants don't exist." The Disney people probably just wanted to teach our kids about the balance of reality and fantasy, and that's okay, even if-- not counting books-- they are themselves, the store house of the biggest, and greatest fantasies in the universe. I only probably want my daughter to have a satisfyingly long suspension of disbelief, before she grows up and "naturally" think of these.

But then when she finally lets me have the control of the channels, and I arrive at these pictures of death and crumbling structures, of brutality and a world slowly coming to an end, I think about the border between fantasy and reality again, and this time my fear is no longer itty-bitty. Where can we put flying elephants and princesses on marshmallow carriages in the midst of this evil? And our children--how far out in Higgly Town or wherever dreamland their minds are, before being finally breached by the real?

Loving a certain song or album sometimes depends on how present it is during on e's most intense moments. So, it reveals another function of recorded music: personal musical score. Greenday's Kerplunk! became my favorite during college. Like most bands I like, I usually claim myself to be the sole listener, fan, and worshiper (though sometimes I allow a friend or two, to share this imaginary exclusivity). I was new in Manila; I had no friends aside from a stabilizing relationship with a few blockmates in Y2 something. And I miss my highschool crushes, my highschool friends, my highschool, and everything that was absent that time. This album, which I chanced upon in Tandem Recto's 90's piracy trove, was my constant walkman companion. I have written love letters, and letters to friends with this music. It was the soundtrack of my lonely sophomore year, dethroning Radiohead's "The Bends" which was my freshman's. Though I have other tapes that time, encompassing a considerably wide range of genres, say Morbid Angel to Gary Lewis and the Playboys, Kerplunk! is the album that gives me a vivid picture of my 1216 Sulu St., Sta. Cruz Manila apartment, 3 am, the waterpump, noisy downstairs, my companions all dead-drunk-sleeping, I am staring at the space beyond the dark buildings, through the ruby humidity of metro air, over the constant drone made by city movement or restlessness, hoping my sight would reach the lonely town of Tabaco, and walk on its empty streets and visit the places I used to be in, like a wandering spirit, or ghost.

I was young, and ready for anything but I was so alienated. And through this album of the so-called "pre-sell out" Green day, I had celebrated my solitude, satisfied by and actually prizing my non-conformity. Little did I know that time that by an unconscious intuition or even clairvoyance, I was fortunate to have done so, to have had long walks alone, to have lost myself in the dreaded streets of Recto and Sta. Cruz, fearless, for there will come a time, when even a ride on a bus alone is an impossibility.

To confess that I feel a little stronger, listening to this old, old album of my old, old favorite band, is to say that I am really that weak. But I did feel a little stronger, especially with the first recognition of the album's familiar songs. And I can say I also felt light and possibly younger. I had a realization: Because time travel is yet a scientific enigma, and turning back time is just plain impossible, listening to old songs may just give us that feel that once upon a time we had a better body than what we have now. (And then it's time to be sad again)

"The Tin Drum (German: Die Blechtrommel) is a 1979 film adaptation of the novel of the same name by Günter Grass. It was directed and co-written by Volker Schlöndorff.

The film won the Palme d'Or at the Cannes film festival and the 1979 Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film."
That was from Wikipedia.

The film is narrated by Oskar, a boy who made himself stop growing at the age of three. He was born conscious, and had seen what happened while he was being ejected from his mother’s womb.

He decided to stay a child after seeing the “chaos” of his parents’ and their friends’ merry making, and their talk about politics, etc. He deliberately hurt himself by falling down the cellar stairs. His mother would perpetually blame this to his father claiming the later forgot to close the cellar trap door, until she died of eating too much raw fish.

For me the appeal of the movie did not come from the lead Oskar Matzerath (David Bennent) but from the strangeness of the characters around him: his grandparents, his mother who died of fish and has two lovers, his Nazi father who choked to death after swallowing his swastika pin while the Russians invade Poland, and a lot more. Oskar, with his unearthly devotion to his tin drum plus his glass-breaking voice, grew boring after a few minutes. But the things he saw and experienced to me were pretty "exotic." Enough to keep me glued for the entire length of the film. I'm afraid I'm implying that the movie is a little more like a peep show of freaks, and yes, I guess it was for me.

There were a lot of funny parts; there were a lot of horny parts too. And I treasured this film for its uncringy portrayal of young sexuality. Outside this, there was war rape and the like. But this very same young sexuality earned for the film a queue of controversies and angry mobs. In fact it made me think too--how will David Bennet recover after this experience of becoming Oskar? He's just a little boy...and he was made to perform very sensitive acts. So did he sacrifice his innocence for art's sake? Would it be better if they had hired a mature dwarf do the role instead? Or does this dilemma simply affirms that the idea of a "peter pan" is a complete impossibility?

In addition to the funny and horny parts, were the gross scenes...which I guess completed this film as an experience. In spite of this, I felt sick of the several sugar-and-saliva scenes between Oscar and their sixteen-year old maid, Maria, whom he believed he had impregnated. But I have to single out this mind blowing eel fishing scene, where Oskar's father helps this fisherman "fish out" fat eels out of a dead horse's head.

The film closed when Oskar decided to grow up, after he gave up his drum. After that, as a sort of "cycle" he fell one more time, this time not deliberate, in his father's grave after he was struck by a stone pitched by Kurt, his "suspected" son. Then Maria, Kurt and Oskar went to America, where according to the novel, of the same title, they would be encountering more rise and fall, and where Oskar will eventually end up in a mental institution. There.

I guess it was great. At least better than West Side Story...which I "tried" to watch afterward. I was speechless...

The film was probably in its middle part when I chanced upon it at Star Movies, last Saturday. I had a weird feeling that the corpse-painted guy in perpetual dark glasses might be some obscure French artist, so I dropped the hunt for a better show and stuck with it. There aren't a lot of "better" programs in TV these days.

I was still kinda skeptical of the substance of what I was seeing, though, so I was at the ready for the plus sign. And I guess it was just pure luck that I found out, after all the Campbell soup prints, that the Andy guy was none other than the Andy guy I had already in my head. Andy the Warhol. It felt great to know you were right all along.

So the film went, and the Factory girl smoked like a chimney, and there was a lot of drugs, and witty things said, it was exciting and makes you forget about the time. Then came the Bob Dylan character. I have to admit I did not expect to see him there. Although, after googling it, I can say I know better now about why the hell he was there, still it was a great shock to me, and a giggly sort of shock too. I was such a great fan, and seeing him (although not the real deal) appear with an effect of a cameo, made me shriek like a Beatle fan. I even temporarily forgot the guy who played the role of Dylan, although I’m a hands-down fan of the movies he was more popular in. And I've been saying fan in this paragraph a lot, so I'll drop it. Fans, tsktsk tsk...

Actually this is not about Factory Girl, but about my Dylan-worship. And I may have enjoyed the film because of that circumstance. That's all.

But let me say: Like most films about life—except perhaps Jerry Maguire or Forrest Gump—the ending was crushing. It’s more like we still bother to live to pen a “cooler” obituary. I guess I will never recover after James Cox’s “Wonderland.”

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

I thought I'd seen everything...at my age, I thought there'd be nothing in the movies which could still hit me deeply. Until this movie.

I've seen a lot of films about lives--some are stand out originals, and the rest just echo that originality. I guess this one is a fresh tune.

This of course may just be my first look impression...maybe it would be different given a different weather or a second viewing, but this is just to say that I am swept off my seat.

I will still check out the short story of the same title though, written by F. Scott Fitzgerald, but I have a feeling that I'll be disappointed. So there.

I Love You, Bobby: Revisitng Bob Dylan

Unconsciously, "Blowing in the Wind", (the Kansas version) was the first Dylan song that stuck on me. I was a little kid then, and our maid was singing that song for her high school graduation.

Many years later, out of curiosity, and probably by the advice of some friends, and perhaps too because a hot college American Lit professoress mentioned that a certain Mr. Bob Zimmerman adopted Dylan Thomas's name for his own, I got this "The best of Bob Dylan" tape (When I decide to try an artist I totally have no idea of, I normally choose the "best of" collection first, just to be sure...but having bought a lot of "best ofs" and eventually ending up buying also the individual albums, it is my opinion that often the best ofs are not really the best...so there). I immediately fell in love with the raw voiced folk singer, and all of the songs in the cassette. But of all the tracks there (which included Sister, The times they are a changing, shelter from the storm, tambourine man, and the poignant Blowin in the wind.) my life, and everything I thought about music was changed by "Tangled up in Blue." I used to hop along the street in my walkman, everytime this song comes up. I always dreamed to live in the 50s; I even had an Alice Daisy phase (disregarding the fact that I took the name from Alice in Chains and Alice in Wonderland), during which I tried to approximate the mind of a hippie.

Anyhow, as heroes we so passionately love forever, sometimes withdraw in hibernation in the caverns of our minds, I somehow outgrew my Dylan phase, especially when I discovered more electronic sounding outfits...but in spite of this, I still listen to that good ole Dylan tape in my quiet hours. Until someone "borrowed" it and that was the last time I saw that tape.

Years passed without Bob, until Eric sold me his DVD collections, and one of them was a collection of Dylan Sessions from his folk guitar days to his modern band set-ups. And among the videos, my devotion to Bobby was rekindled by the song Hurricane, which I believed was how folk rock should sound like (only). And thanks to modern technology (for MP3 players) and Eric Lim (for the copy of the songs Hurricane and Tangled up in Blue), I was reunited with the songs I know I will always love.

* * *
Bob Dylan's Profile (Ripped off from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bob_Dylan)

Bob Dylan (born Robert Allen Zimmerman May 24, 1941) is an American singer-songwriter, author, musician, and a poet who has been a major figure in popular music for five decades. Much of Dylan's most celebrated work dates from the 1960s, when he became an informal chronicler and a reluctant figurehead of American unrest. A number of his songs, such as "Blowin' in the Wind" and "The Times They Are a-Changin'",[1] became anthems of the anti-war and civil rights movements. His most recent studio album, Modern Times, released on August 29, 2006, entered the U.S. album chart at number one, and that same year was named Album of the Year by Rolling Stone magazine.[2]

Dylan's early lyrics incorporated politics, social commentary, philosophy and literary influences, defying existing pop music conventions and appealing widely to the counterculture. While expanding and personalizing musical styles, he has shown steadfast devotion to many traditions of American song, from folk and country/blues to gospel, rock and roll and rockabilly, to English, Scottish and Irish folk music, and even jazz and swing.[3][4]

Dylan performs with the guitar, keyboard and harmonica. Backed by a changing lineup of musicians, he has toured steadily since the late 1980s on what has been dubbed the "Never Ending Tour". Although his accomplishments as performer and recording artist have been central to his career, his songwriting is generally regarded as his greatest contribution.[5]

Over many years, Dylan has been recognized and honored for his songwriting, performing, and recording. His records have earned Grammy, Golden Globe, and Academy Awards, and he has been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame and Songwriters Hall of Fame. In 1999, Dylan was included in TIME Magazine's 100 most influential people of the 20th century, and in 2004, he was ranked number two in Rolling Stone magazine's list of "Greatest Artists of All Time", second only to The Beatles.[6] In January 1990, Dylan was made a Commandeur des Arts et des Lettres by French Minister of Culture Jack Lang; in 2000, he was awarded the Polar Music Prize by the Royal Swedish Academy of Music;[7] and in 2007, Dylan was awarded the Prince of Asturias Award in Arts in Spain by the Fundación Príncipe de Asturias. He has been nominated several times for the Nobel Prize in Literature.[8][9][10]

In 2008, Dylan was awarded a Pulitzer Prize Special Citation for his "profound impact on popular music and American culture, marked by lyrical compositions of extraordinary poetic power."[11] Previous recipients of this award include Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane.[12]

The Surrogates

Category:	Movies
Genre:	Science Fiction & Fantasy

Touchstone. Dir. Jonathan Mostow. Star: Willis.

Synopsis: FBI agents (BRUCE WILLIS and RADHA MITCHELL) investigate the mysterious murder of a college student linked to the man who helped create a high-tech surrogate phenomenon that allows people to purchase unflawed robotic versions of themselves – fit, good looking remotely controlled machines that ultimately assume their life roles – enabling people to experience life vicariously from the comfort and safety of their own homes. The murder spawns a quest for answers: in a world of masks, who’s real and who can you trust? --© Touchstone Pictures

***

I watched it last night, thinking it will be about robots. And I wasn't wrong. The film featured life-sized barbie and ken robots which people set out to the world as their fantasy perfect selves or surrogates. But that wasn't all. Slightly different from its predecessors, from Robocop, Bicentennial Man to A1, by making us the robots indirectly, instead of robots just being our functional assistants, the merit of the film for me came more from its commentary. A statement which isn't really original and fresh but the way it was presented was point blank the least: be yourself. I treasure movies which teaches something new. And for this reason I never tire of re-watching the Matrix (sometimes all three in one day) for it blows my mind away every time I do. I enjoy having my mind blown away by anything.

So what was new about the Surrogates? It gave me an insight on what will be the culmination of this popular lifestyle of stylized self images should it go on. How far will you alter yourself to function in the world according to your idea of "Life"? You can be who ever you want to be. And everyone is playing the role of someone beautiful, healthy and enjoying life perfectly according to their idea of what life should be. Are there really no crimes, accidents or deaths because what we are actually killing or hitting is just the shell. Talk about Zen detachment. But is evil really solved because no real person is getting raped, robbed or killed? Should it broke down we can always buy new surrogates. I love the part when Willis' surrogate did and he was forced to go out in the real world filled with surrogates. He was bumped, stared at, and practically harassed by the robots because of his humanity. Because of his human flaws he couldn't keep up with the pace of these things by just walking on the sidewalk.

I have a personal thing about staying indoors for fear of something bad happening or for plain fear of assholes. In the film all that walks the earth (except for the people at autonomous Human Coalition territory) are surrogates, while their human counterparts sit on chairs where they control the robots. I guess the play on our fear of dying, of rejection and anxiety for anxiety itself appealed to me more than it supposed to be. What can I say that fear for me is very much real.

I remembered my recent drama with my network profile. I once said I am not my FB profile. What you see is my idea of what a person should be in my book. In the film you can see a white man taking a black surrogate. I surmised that the reason is sexual. This person recognizes the virility of an African American body, and he believes that having sex in a body like this is the ideal way of fucking someone. Things like that.

The Surrogates gave us the outcomes of desiring to become and wanting to enjoy who ever we want. You can have affairs with anyone anonymously like in chat rooms. You can do whatever you desire without the consequence of the real. I especially appreciate the device used by the film to differentiate surrogates from the humans. The robots were perfect while the humans were, well humans.

For best results watch it and log on to your favorite network site after.

The Legend of 1900

It's long, to the point of long-winding. I actually watched it for two-days with much effort. In spite of the corny flash-back narrative technique, which appeared to be the favorite during the year 1998, it garnered a considerable number of awards, including a Golden Globe for Original Score. The story, and much of what the movie has to say is original, and some "snatches" are actually beautiful, but its just so reminiscent of Titanic, which I'm not sure whether that's good or bad. And as the movie is long, more like watching Ben-Hur, certain problems with tightness caused it to drag.

Clarence Williams III's portrayal of Jelly Roll Morton, though, for me was best performance in the film, and the Piano Duel, its highlight. I felt I have never heard of what the piano can do as an instrument, until I heard it in this film, in this particular part (which I have played back a couple of times). The cigarette lighting on the heated piano strings which might sound cheesy is no where near that description, it was just plain unbelievable. Definitely the best reason for anyone to watch the movie. The rest after that was just plain excruciating mush, and one can't help but be impatient to know what the ending will be.

The Eraserheads is cool again

I may be wrong but I think, with the unfortunate exit of Rico Blanco from Rivermaya, a nostalgic spotlight is now on their closest rival band to the throne of Pinoy Pop, The Eraserheads. Although the band members of this so-called legendary group have formed their respective bands and the band Eraserheads is no longer existent per se, the E-heads-stigma is indelible. Among the ex-e-head-formed-band, I guess Raimund's Sandwich broke through first. I don't know if this was a long time ago for some, for for me it was only with their song Percolator (I might be wrong, I might be wrong) that I think they have re-emerged. To be fair with the first Sandwich line-up, which included Kwan's Mark Abaya, I guess Butterfly Carnival is still a very influential single. Then I was caught by a new release by the Ely Buendia-fronted Pupil, Monobloc, which for me restored the decency in being an Ely Buendia fan. Then recently I saw in TV that MYX is going to do a retrospective on The Eraserheads. All these string of events, if they are not signs saying that E-heads is great again I'd swear that I listen to Click Five (I don't know what's got into me, but I like them). This is not saying that these events are the first of its kind. There has been an Electromagneticjam tribute album by several E-heads inspired newbies to attest that this doesn't just happen in the past few days. The time Ely released his Bedspacer album, I guess the tributes were already in the mass consciousness. To be fair with Rivermaya, all these tribute to E-heads were possible of course because the band is already disbanded, thus making it proper for a tribute. Whereas Rivermaya is only Rico-less but is still alive and performing, but if a tribute to Rivermaya would be released, now--okay, it is not impossible. So there. But for now, E-heads is in, again, yay!

Suralista. April 21, 2008