Happy Holidays

Concert with a Cause

Like many Filipinos, I love music. To be specific, I love listening to music; God apparently did not bless me with an awesome voice or enough patience to learn a musical instrument. And I'm one of those guys who can appreciate, even like, all kinds of music (well, except classic country). One kind of music that I really have a soft spot for are the Filipino progressive songs of the 1980s. I first listened to them as a high school junior, during rehearsals for a school production of Ritchie Valencia's Juan Obrero. Our drama teacher thought to use Filipino progressive music to match the play's equally progressive content, hence my co-performers and I got to listen to Joey Ayala, Buklod and Gary Granada for the first time. I remember how their songs--Ayala's "Bata Batuta" and Buklod's "Buhay at Bukid," among others--impressed me with their sobering lyrics, stirring melodies and undeniable sincerity. So different from the ones being played on the radio then.

Last Friday, at Rody's open invitation I went to a special gig at the '70s Bistro. How special? Patatag, one of the country's finest progressive musical groups, performed a benefit gig for one of their members. I've been inclined to go: I've heard Rody, one of the group's founding members, recall his experiences with Patatag to the Bloc before, and I've been quite interested to get a hold of their three-CD set (a little pricey, but definitely worth it) that comes with the ticket to the gig. And I am not the only one: so many people came, packing the place. Not just friends, but fans of the group's music as well. Clearly Patatag has developed a devoted following through the years.

Anyone who watched that night knew why the group has so many admirers. Many of those who came to the gig grew up during the early 1980s--the time Patatag was formed--and as expected the group's songs have great nostalgic value for them. For others, including myself, it's really a pleasure to hear their voices blend so well, singing with such conviction and power in one rousing song after another: "Pagbabago." "Dapat Bawiin." "Wala Nang Tao sa Santa Filomena." Rody had a few strong solo numbers (including the very famous "Manggagawa" from Sister Stella L., which the audience loved). So did the very sweet-voiced Susan Fernandez and Patatag's musical father Jess Santiago. If there's a complaint, it's the fact the mini-concert was too short.

Below is a video of the group singing "Wala Nang Tao sa Santa Filomena" at the gig, which I found on YouTube. See how good they were:



I've been listening to Patatag's three albums since last Friday, and as far as I'm concerned I like the first one, titled Nagbabagang Lupa, the best. Perhaps that album's main theme--the unjust and miserable conditions facing our poor farmers, which I feel very sympathetic about--had a hand in my liking it so much, but to offer that as the reason, I feel, doesn't give the songs justice. "Julian Makabayan"? A pleasure to listen. "Nagbabagang Lupa"? Heartrending. "Tano"? Simple but very powerful. "Wala Nang Tao sa Santa Filomena"? Haunting. "Dapat Bawiin"? Stirring. "Butil ng Palay"? Bittersweet, its melody reminding me of lullabies.

Before they ended the gig last Friday, Patatag announced that they'll be having another concert on May 1--Labor Day--next year. I'm sure a lot of people will come--myself included. Their gig last Friday have made me an earnest admirer.

He's the Man (Asian)!

2008 Man Asian Literary Prize winner Miguel "Chuck" Syjuco

I'm sure most, if not all those in the Philippine literary community have heard--and are rejoicing, I would imagine--by now that Montreal-based Miguel "Chuck" Syjuco won this year's Man Asian Literary Prize--the Asian equivalent of the Booker Prize--for his debut novel Ilustrado. This win naturally reinforces the terrific buzz surrounding the novel after it garnered the Grand Prize at the Palancas last September. Now a lot of people, myself included, eagerly await its publication.

I don't know the man personally, but I can't help but feel happy for him. Imagine, winning at his age (31) and with his very first novel? Very few writers can pull that off. More importantly, I'm happy about Syjuco's win for it may help bring overdue attention to the country as an emerging force in the global literary stage. Maybe the exposure resulting from the victory may get more people, particularly those in the West, interested in the stories we tell and how we write them. Wouldn't that be sweet?

At the same time, I can't help but notice how, judging from the premise and the excerpt, history plays a pivotal role in the narrative. In that sense, it appears Ilustrado is the latest in a very long line of novels where history is a major player. Needless to say, history will remain a top topic for writers to tackle--and that's something I sort of feel ambivalent about, at least as I write this.

In any case, Syjuco winning the Man Asian Literary Prize is a huge encouragement. Not only to him, but also, to a certain extent, to the Philippine literary community. For that, among many things, his victory should be celebrated.

Photo: The Man Asian Literary Prize

A "Barry" Happy Day

What else can I say, honestly? America just made progress--and consequently, history--today. And the world will be better for it.

Congratulations, President-elect Barack Obama. Congratulations, America. Couldn't be happier, or more relieved.

Photo: Obey Giant: Obama

Light My Fire

It may not match the deep emotional power of the sight of Parkinson's-afflicted Muhammad Ali lighting the cauldron at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics, but it's as inventive (if not more) as the spectacle of an archer shooting a flaming arrow towards the cauldron at the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona. What a brilliant conclusion to a mind-blowing opening ceremony.

(Photo courtesy of Yahoo!/Reuters)

I wonder how London will top that four years from now. WOW.

Winning Wordsmiths

Earlier this evening, I browsed through the pages of the latest issue of the Philippine Graphic (dated August 11, I believe) and saw that it has already announced its winners for the 2007-2008 Philippine Graphic-Nick Joaquin Literary Contest:

First Prize: Virgilio Harry C. Tejero, for How Baby Doll Became an Amazon.
Second Prize: Raymund P. Reyes, for Marie, 22, DH.
Third Prize: Danton Remoto, for Wings of Desire.

Apparently, the awarding ceremony took place last month, and according to Remoto, he learned about his win in mid-June. Tejero's first-prize win this time marks his fourth, and as such is inducted into the competition's Hall of Fame.

Belated CONGRATULATIONS to all the winners!

Cinemalaya 2008: Namets!

For a film with a plot as thin as a thread and a cast led by two very attractive starlets (Christian Vasquez and Angel Jacob) who perform as if they're still acting in commercials, Jay Abello's Namets! (which means "delicious" in Ilonggo) managed to come across as a charming comic confection. How so? Well, Abello's consistent use of a lightweight, angst-free tone contributes part of the movie's charm, as does director Peque Gallaga's effective acting turn as a gibberish-speaking local kingpin. And as someone born and bred in Manila, the movie's location--Bacolod City--and Ilonggo dialogue (with English subtitles) completely engaged me.

But what I like most about Namets! is that it introduces the audience to Negrosanon cuisine; call it Negrosanon Cuisine 101, if you will. The late, great PDI food critic and Silay City native Doreen G. Fernandez would've approved of the effort, I'm sure. But at some point I felt it remained just that: an introduction. It never really satisfied my hunger to know more about this particular cuisine: the contrasting textures, the different flavors, the culture behind it. In other words, what makes it special, unique? The uproarious vignettes spread throughout the film (the best features the wonderful Ronnie Lazaro as a meat-starved farmer), though enlightening to some extent, helped very, very little in this regard.

In a way, I wish I had watched this movie first; it's the perfect, pleasant appetizer for most of the Cinemalaya full-length entries this year that had served as the main course.

UP NEXT: Ellen Ongkeko-Marfil's Boses.

Cinemalaya 2008: My Fake American Accent

Ten reasons why I admire Onnah Valera and Ned Trespeces's call-center comedy My Fake American Accent:

1. Ned Trespeces is my friend.
2. Mailes Kanapi is an amazing actress.
3. The film's production design looks and feels authentic.
4. Ned Trespeces is my friend.
5. The tagline--"Fake it 'til you make it"--is rather cute.
6. Writer-friends making cameo appearances.
   
7. Ned Trespeces is my friend.
8. The episodic, almost Altmanesque structure suits the material quite well, I think.
   
9. The trailer looks quite intriguing.
10. Ned Trespeces is my friend. Ü
    

UP NEXT: Jay Abello's Namets!

Cinemalaya 2008: Concerto

If watching Ranchero felt like being in unwarranted solitary confinement, watching Concerto felt as if I attended a tertulia. Films set during Japanese Occupation-era Philippines are rather rare, and Paul Alexander Morales's fine film is a welcome addition to that list. It may not be as great as Peque Gallaga's Oro, Plata, Mata (1982), but it's definitely much better than Cesar Montano's earnest Panaghoy sa Suba and Joel Lamangan's unimaginatively titled Aishite Imasu 1941, both released in 2004. The film strongly reminded me of Gilda Cordero Fernando's classic war stories People in the War and A Wilderness of Sweets in its detailed chronicling of a large, middle-class family's struggle to survive the war. Interesting material, indeed, but what made it even more so (at least for me) is that it's based on true stories of the filmmaker's own family.

Concerto boasts of several plusses. Morales's assured helming is one; here's one director who obviously knows his material. The production design impresses, despite the movie's very limited budget. The actors are well cast, particularly Meryll Soriano in a performance that's more restrained than usual and Shamaine Centenera-Buencamino, who very skillfully avoids reducing her character--the ever-patient and understanding matriarch--into a two-dimensional saint. And it has several wonderfully staged scenes: the fantastic sepia-toned introduction, the mother's face illuminated by mirror-reflected sunlight, the title event itself. On the downside, I have to agree with Gibbs in his mini-critique of the film: it could stand further editing.

But what really struck me most about Concerto is its strong, almost insistent pacifist viewpoint. It's so strong, the United Nations, if it becomes an award-giving body like the Oscars, would give the Best Picture statuette to the film. Don't get me wrong: there's nothing wrong in espousing a pacifist stance. But there were instances I felt it threatened to undermine narrative logic and common sense. This is most obvious in the final scene: an American soldier, a Japanese civilian, and Filipinos all friendly with one another and enjoying themselves at a party held inside the reopened De La Torre house soon after the war ended. The mood was too forgiving. And there are some details that the director didn't account for, like the sudden appearance of Mr. Akiya at the concerto: where did he come from?

The film's point cannot be denied: one can transcend differences and maintain his/her humanity, even in a heinously inhuman time. And in this case, the universal language--music--proves to be the key. Concerto is an ultimately stirring ode to pacificism.

UP NEXT: Onnah Valera and Ned Trespeces's My Fake American Accent.

Cinemalaya 2008: Ranchero

Boy, do I really regret watching this movie first. It has plot holes as large as the ones you find at Loyola Memorial Park. And to think the fine opening scene holds such promise. A close friend, Mon Sarmiento (who conducted extensive research at Bilibid years ago in penning his Palanca-winning screenplay Maria at Magdalena), watched the movie with me, and he sighed and grumbled all throughout: where’s the sense of a regimented existence, of claustrophobia? And why is the dialogue between longtime rancheros (slang for prison cooks) Ricardo (a miscast Archie Adamos) and Miyong (a wasted Garry Lim) sounds so contrived, sounds as though they’ve just met? It’s almost criminal.

That's not the end of it. For a prison, even a provincial one, it looks disconcertingly bright and clean. And that closing, lingering image of the posters of the Good Shepherd and the Crucifixion--care for (a sacrificial) lamb, anyone?--pasted side by side on a kitchen wall simply screams of OVERSTATEMENT! But what makes Ranchero an appalling movie is Michael Christian Cardoz's violations of the basic rules in crafting drama. A protagonist viewers didn't get to know at all because the director had drawn him so poorly: they never even learn of the nature and circumstance of Ricardo's crime that slapped him with a ten-year jail term in the first place. A protagonist with no real problem to confront and overcome (he's scheduled to be released from prison the next day, for Chrissakes!). No tension at all, especially in the first half. No fresh insight offered on life behind bars. No kidding: it's that bad.

If making a bad movie is a crime, then Cardoz deserves some serious confinement.

UP NEXT: Paul Alexander Morales's Concerto.