Into the Storm

Into the storm is not only the perfect storm. It should rank as one of the best chill out movies I’ve seen after a long while. The best thing about the movie is there is no villain in it, unless you hate your life so much that you see typhoons as your enemy. The plot is nothing to make you lose sleep and think seriously hard which is really the reason I loved it. Some movies try expect you to understand the phenomenon of inter-galactic molecular combustion while discussing on the side how sheep cell can be replicated to produce the animal’s living carbon copy through the wonders of medical cloning. Let’s leave those movies to the intellectuals.

Into the Storm has refreshingly none of that BS, thank God. To put is simply, there are movies that thrive on the philosophy of filmmaking where the less you think, the more you enjoy.  And Into the Storm proved that philosophy once again. There was a time “2012” was my number one disaster movie, a close second should be the Will Smith starrer “Independence Day”. Well, the ranking has changed and I should place “Into the Storm” on top with “2012” a distant second. That’s how good the movie is. Well I urge you not just to believe me but you better see for yourself. Watch it, for the love of God!

For one, the movie was able to overcome my initial reluctance to pay money to see it considering that people like me have this natural tendency to be seriously skeptical of films that come out after a major disaster happens, which I feel are all about squeezing an otherwise  unfortunate event of its commercial potentials to generate money.

But although I still think the film capitalized on what Yolanda’s did to Leyte, the redeeming value of Into the Storm is the way it concentrated almost entirely on capturing the visual images of the hurricane on a rampage. There was no major political statement to be made. Unlike in “2012” where the president had to make the decision to stay with his people to the bitter end or in “Independence Day” where an emotional speech was inserted somewhere before the ultimate showdown with the alien-invaders. In Godzillah for instance, the movie tried to take a stab at the awful state of politics in New York.

Into the Storm resisted the temptation to criticize the human race for its endless political agenda or mankind’s plunder of the environment. It was like “hey buddy, let’s just watch this thing and relax, okay?” is the overwhelming attitude of the film and oh yes, it got the message through and stayed true to the theme the entire two-hour screening. There was no letup in the action the moment it began.

This movie decided to spare us from the awful sight of people dying and starving and living in shelters. Instead we are treated by the movie to a larger than live rather, more aptly, closer than close viewing of flying trucks and airplanes, of buildings being lifted off the ground, and treated the imagination to spectacular sights that we will otherwise not be able to see up close in real life and expect to live to tell what happened. 

The in-your-face treatment of disaster scenes highlighting only the physical destruction may lack the emotional punch if people were placed upfront and in the center of the drama but hey, that is precisely the point the film was trying to make – its lack of pretense or political agenda. The film succeeded beautifully in this regard. In the beginning, the movie introduced to us two characters, a pair of thrill-seeking bums who would to anything for a kick attempting to be the next you tube sensations with the craziest video stunts. They just lacked one member to be the Three Stooges. But anyway, they made the whole movie fun while it lasted – right to the very end. I wouldn't want to spoil the thrill here so let me just mention that the movie regardless of its hardcore topic, took its time teasing our sense of humor.

Finally, the movie passed impressively the verdict of the worst team of critics you can ever assemble. I was at the movies with the gang – my wife Arlene, Alon (13), Aya (11) and Nanay, who is already 86. Usually, the kids would start fighting and throwing a tantrum if they don’t see anything to keep them still and Nanay would be snoozing as soon as the dim-lighted theatre goes completely dark. Guess what, they stayed still and kept themselves awake. And when we came out and talked about what we’ve just seen, I felt that for one brief moment, my 86 year old mother was a kid again, grateful and ecstatic to be at the movies.

So go ahead and watch it.

Prom Night

This could be the longest one minute of her young life.

Sining sat in one corner, far from the glare of the chandelier light illuminating the entire room where only the faintest flash of light could reach her, slicing through the darkness every now and then before leaving that corner in pitch darkness yet again. For now, everybody’s attention is transfixed on the contilion de honor, where the chosen few – the tallest, fairest, and comeliest members of the class had the opportunity to participate – and the dance was the culmination of weeks of rehearsals which some even took to the extreme with weeks of dieting. It was the ritual reserved only for the most stunning and virile among the lot, the ones who radiate with the glow of youth and closely approach the fairy tale images of prince and princess which sadly she is not. In a moment, the music stops and this is where the things she dreads the most set in. She remembered what her father told her in the car, on their way to the dance. Sining at 16 is a ball of nervous energy threatening to explode.

This is just a phase, a rite of passage so don’t take it too seriously if others get all the attention it’s not because you deserve less. It is not a statement of how much you are worth or where you stand in the order of things. You all have a full life ahead, and no one knows where it will lead you. Years from now, you will just laugh it off especially if it turns out the expectations that you have for one another completely fall off the mark. It’s all superficial for now and physical attraction naturally gets a lot of praise and attention but as you move up in years, character takes over and changes the way you look at the world. In the meantime be what you are. Be your age. Just enjoy the dance. Have fun. If you act naturally and be kind to everyone, and put on a genuine smile, they will remember you as that simple girl who made the evening truly special.

She could almost remember every single word that his father said during the ride except that the element of encouragement in the manner he delivered his message had dissipated now, and Sining began to seriously have some doubt. After all those words came from a confessed wall-paper and high school geek himself – surprisingly, his father was even proud to admit that – so they offer little comfort. She felt worse than Cinderella did with seconds ticking away before midnight turns her from princess to pauper. Sining glanced at the buffet table and noticed that some girls have actually helped themselves to the food – honestly, that was the only reason they came here for. She promised not to be like them even as her stomach protested, making her remember she never had anything for lunch, for fear of not fitting into her gown. If only her father knew.

As soon as the cotillion stopped, there was a flurry of shoving and teasing as the boys go after the girls they like for the next dance, this time, unrehearsed and anything goes. Again as expected, there were beelines for the comeliest ladies while those who get passed up pretend as best they can not to care. The DJ caught everyone by surprise and brought the house down by putting on Psy’s K-Pop smash dance hit, right after the formal cotillion, drawing a collective nervous laughter from the very young crowd. The music had already started, transforming the crowd into a dancing suicidal mob when Sining heard a familiar voice, barely audible amidst the heart-pounding noise. “Shall we dance?” When Sining looked up, she saw Eugene, the gangling senior with a serious nutrition problem some class bullies have likened him to the life-size skeletal system model back in biology class when they were sophomores. For a brief moment in that dark corner of the room, she thought he was a creature from horror movies but immediately Sining smiled a wide smile and took his hand.

She could barely remember anything else after that. Eugene was very shy and unassuming but a true gentlemen and every other boy that took her to the floor after that was a similar model in decorum – grateful and happy enough just to be able to say that he was not be turned down. Sining never said no to anyone even as her foot ached and she even successfully yanked Jeremy off his seat – her gay classmate – for a shot at a slow sweet dance when “Blue Moon” played along.

That night, when the party ended, she found her father already asleep inside the car at the parking lot, the engine and airconditioner turned off because he's saving on gas. She had to tap hard on the windshield to awaken him. Three of her best friends who had no one to fetch them asked to share the ride, and her father said yes without a second thought even complimenting them, saying it was not everyday that she gets to have beautiful princesses for company. But when he found out they were hungry and never had a bite, he pretended to be mad and drove to the nearest restaurant still open at one o’clock in the morning. They were lucky to find one far away all the way up in Timog Avenue. There, all dressed up in their evening gowns and in full make up, she and her classmates gorged on their very late dinner like starving sailors while her father watched wondering what on earth is happening to the young ladies of today.

It was the best dance and dinner date she could ever possibly ask for.

Chill

It’s funny how the Red Hot Chili Peppers, my college definition of artistic rebellion, never fails to bring out my inner Jekyll and Hyde. I grew up admiring them – obscene, irreverent, gross, smelly, stinky and all. That was during college. And that was a long time ago. Looking back, I realized that my connection with the band is because they affirm my personal faith about believing in choosing to be different and refusing to follow the convention.

I was then the reed-thin, asthmatic-looking nerd-geek crossbreed with thick-rimmed glasses who always seems to get the distinction of being the shortest boy in class. I mean, vertically challenged --- heck, what I like about this blogging thing is you get to reveal your worst affliction and still feel less miserable to have admitted it compared to when you do it publicly. Behind that pathetic exterior is a rocker-rebel who would not hesitate to choose chaos over peace, disturbance rather than comfort uncompromising as I was – then and now – when defending the choices that I make. And during that time, I choose to march with the sweating masses in Mendiola, face the Marcos government’s marines rather than sit on Spanish class trying to stay awake while struggling to conjugate nosotros vosotros or listen while my Humanities Professor rant and rave about the perfect male figures that Michaelangelo formed from slabs of marbles, muscular men but in my mind were the most miserable of creatures with their pitifully small and shy phalluses retracting under their wrinkly scrotum covers. 

To me, the perfect man-image is Anthony Keidis in his birthday suit rocking on stage with only socks for underwear, and while my Humanities professor sees the physical epitome of perfection in the sculptures of the Greeks, I, the geek, would rather hear and see the metaphysical definition of what rebellion is all about. The naked truth in public is not always a bad thing, because it also resembles a casting away of the earthly embellishments of life, until only the butt-naked flesh remains. Think oblation.  Sometimes, if the force of ideological protest fails, wouldn’t it be nice if one can just, out of sheer exasperation with life, drop those clothes and run. That’s it, I’ve had enough, one could just say. The heck with decency, the hell with religion. Let me get naked and run. For no reason but the heck of running naked. I really suspect I must be a streaker in my previous life, a streaker with a mean streak and who knows, the Chilli Peppers went side by side with me in some of those streaking. 

Every Chilli Pepper concert is a corruption of the virtuous society that we thought existed, a middle finger flashed in the faces of moralists and decent men. Every Chilli Pepper concert is a phone call away from calling the police to launch the mass arrest of psychopaths and perverts let loose in the streets. If I can afford it, I would not have missed their live acts. But I was just a college student at that time.

But then again, the terrible thing that people are afraid to confront one day caught me by surprise. I grew old. My inner rocker is not spared from the ravages of time and could barely rekindle some of the vitality during moments of deep introspection, as when I am in a long drive and Under the Bridge comes up on the radio. There is almost sadness in realizing that I have lost the lyrics of Can’t Stop which all my life I believed will forever be etched in my psyche but when suddenly, the song came blaring out of nowhere during a monster of a traffic jam in SLEX my mind couldn’t cope with the rhythm and beat, feeling humiliated at how I could have lost the words. 

The worst part was after I learned recently that they were coming to Manila. If I were still the college geek, I would have robbed the bank, or held up my parents for the premium ticket. That’s all the chance I have to get the money and go to the concert then. But I have to remember that I go to work on a tailored suit now.I meet people who have stashed away millions in the banks, ready to kill or be killed to keep it there.  My life revolves today around long and exhausting travels, endless disagreements, high-stake lawsuits, and high-profile litigants, and yes, ironically, I have reached a point in my life where I cannot even afford the time it would cost me to go to a rock concert. The Chilli Peppers are calling me back to where I came from but instead of listening to the call, I went the other way and deliberately missed the trip. 

The geek must be dead.