Movie Commentaries of the Week (July, 2013)

WHITE HOUSE DOWN

Directed by: Roland Emmerich

Starring: Channing Tatum, Jamie Foxx, James Woods, Maggie Gyllenhaal

Released: July 2013

Roland Emmerich likes blowing up the White House. That’s his fetish. He is the same guy who blew up the White House in Independence Day. And to anyone who grew up in the 90’s, that image of a giant saucer-like craft beaming a streak of light straight down to the White House thereby blowing it to Kingdom Come is one of the most iconic images of that era. There is no such memorable scene in this movie. Other than a Malcolm X-looking, Jordan sneakers-strutting Jamie Foxx as US President, a really old-looking James Woods and scattered punchlines, absolutely nothing in this movie will be talked about next week. If you’re a fan of John McClane in Die Hard, then you may either like this movie or cringe at the sight of a grossly unoriginal knockoff. Channing Tatum’s John Cale is John McClane 2013 (Look they even have almost similar names!). Cut and paste Bruce Willis for Channing Tatum’s character, and Willis’ wife for Tatum’s daughter and you basically have the same characters in basically the same movie.  And don’t even get me started on how a movie like this comes out just a few months after “Olympus Has Fallen”—a similar terrorists-taking-over-the-White-House  movie. That’s a $150-Million reason why they should not have made this movie. But they did. You know, Hollywood. So look at the box-office numbers this weekend, you’d doubt this movie would break-even with that $150 Million budget. Moviegoers get it right sometimes.

SPRING BREAKERS

Directed by Harmony Korine

Starring: James Franco, Selena Gomez, Vanessa Hudgens

Released: 2012

I love looking at Selena Gomez. She has that cute jawline and cuddly baby-like cheeks that I find even sexier than her curves. But this movie is not just about Selena Gomez, nor the extensive display of skin by the four lovely lead lady characters, nor the inordinate showcasing of boobs that would make the testosterone levels of every male go crazy like a dog with rabies. The movie feels hallucinogenic, shots are over-exposed, dialogues go on repeat and offbeat-ly super-imposed in almost over-extended scenes. In short, this is envelope-pushing, genre-bending stuff, surely not your run-of-the-mill popcorn movie you’d be expecting shown at SM anytime soon. The film is a mélange of neon shots of booze, drugs, sex and violence, all within the context of a movie about deviant youth behaviour. James Franco churns out a masterful performance as a gangster and he goes head-on with Gucci Mane—that alone is enough reason to make this movie interesting. But that should not take away the screaming-in-your-face social commentary that this film has beautifully injected through its LSD-induced cinematography and Britney Spears soundtrack. And Selena Gomez’s jawline.   

Random Superstardom: Breaking Down the Amalayer Girl Explosion

(Disclaimer: This is a raw, emotion-driven product of the author’s less-than-sober mind, and was written with little to no research, spiced with slices of sarcasm, hyperbole and pop-culture references—so please don’t take this too seriously, just like you shouldn’t take anonymous texts saying “You’re cute” too seriously. Seriously.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bw8r4PlQpuw

There she was, channeling her inner Cherie Gil, busting out a repetitive hashtag-worthy line that trended all over the world, climaxing emphatically in a statement delivered in a spectacularly condescending tone that would make any teleserye kontrabida proud—“I’m just returning the favor.”

Boom.

We all just witnessed the most electrifying random rage moment in the history of caught-on-tape Pinoy random rage moments, the video that shook the world on its foundation. Let me break down for you how mind-bogglingly awesome and socially significant this was.

     Surely, Pinoy random rage moments caught on tape are nothing new. They have been uploaded in cyberspace and broadcasted on primetime news programs time and again—some barely go unnoticed and end up in some lonely area of the Youtube universe called the “50 views or less zone” while some become certified blockbusters, slip into mainstream consciousness, cause a tsunami of reactions and spawn an entire specie of internet memes. The certified hits have had the effect of turning the ones in the video instant cult villains, their famous mugs getting printed in bond paper and turned into targets for airsoft practices, or become objects of Vice Ganda parodies in Showtime. Before Amalayer Girl, there was Christopher Lao, the infamous “Mr. I-was-not-informed” (he is now a lawyer, I don’t know if he remains the same douche), then there was the carabao-ish Robert Blair Carabuena, the MMDA-beater. Both of whom were internet super villains who just got bumped off the top spot of the “Most Vilified Pinoy Youtube Sensation” when Paula Jamie Salvosa showed up.

The impressiveness of Amalayer Girl’s outburst lies on the random awesomeness of its delivery—which is what Lao and Robert Blair lacked. Lao’s tirade sounded like one from a typical Chinoy rich kid law student who probably owns a car given by his rich parents on his 16^th birthday—totally not unexpected. Carabuena’s violent eruption looked typical coming from one burly corporate executive who has probably been bullying small guys all his life. But Ms. Salvosa’s explosion looked like it came out of the big screen. The dialogue sounded like it was plucked from a Star Cinema infidelity-themed movie. But it was as real as it can get. You have a Pinay college student serving up a mouthful of pilit-English on a helpless female Filipino guard who probably only finished first year in a Tesda-accredited course. Why English? Something must be up with the English language that endears it to douchebag condescenders. As if using the language to berate someone instantly puts them into illustrado-mode, to strike fear into the hearts of the (perceived-to-be) less-educated. She could have spoken Filipino and communicated her thoughts and feelings much more technically-sound than how she delivered it in the video. But lo and behold, she used English, a language that by the sound of it, is obviously foreign to her. But what she lacked in pronunciation, she more than made up for in diction. She sold her kontrabida qualities so undeniably well that while watching the video, one could not help but think that maybe it was all a show, a ploy by the girl to get noticed by some artista agent. Maybe it was part of a grand scheme to entice Johnny Manahan to cast her in some afternoon soap and groom her to be the next Bella Flores, who until now has no worthy successor.

To be certain, we have very little knowledge of Amalayer Girl’s background. Where are her parents? Did she not get enough breast milk before she turned two years old? What ice cream flavor does she like? Was she neglected during childhood? Did she lose badly in some Declamation Contest in school when she was in elementary? What television shows did she enjoy watching while growing up? Was she a victim of some lascivious act by some family member while in puberty? Did she root for Clara in Mara Clara? Is she trying to apply as call center agent? We cannot completely map the series of people and events that transpired in her life so as to form at least a cursory analysis of how someone like Amalayer Girl is concocted. Likewise, we also have limited information on how her day was during that fateful encounter with Ms. Lady Guard. Was she just having a bad day? Did she just get humiliated in her class after she could not answer during recitation in Trigonometry? Was she just dumped by her boyfriend for an HRM student via text? Did she just get pooped on her shirt by some random bird on her way to the MRT station? That when she encountered the Lady Guard, with all the accumulated weight of the awfulness of the events in her day, she just snapped. We may never know the answers.

Still, no matter how dreadful her day was or how deprived she was growing up, there is just no way to justify the hideousness of her handling of the situation. Sure, she did not deliver a blow. Sure, she did not curse at the Lady Guard. But the way the Amalayer Girl delivered her piece had “bad manners” written all over it. You know the feeling when someone does something which is not innately wrong but the way he did it just looks and feels wrong. The same feeling I got watching Lebron James’ “The Decision,” when he had to broadcast on primetime television that he was ditching her probinsyana-girl (Cleveland) for the city vixen (Miami)—there was nothing inherently wrong with what he did, but it still felt and looked wrong. Same goes here with Amalayer Girl’s reaction.  Amalayer Girl reacted like an absolute (insert a word that means female canine here) on that very moment plain and simple.

On a final note, these random displays of rage—Lao’s, Carabuena’s and Amalayer Girl’s in particular—bring to light three noteworthy things. One, the arrogance of the Privileged has become more rabid as of late; two, the emotional restraint of individuals when confronted with a situation where their ego is compromised still has to reach the desired degree in spite of the advancement of civilization; and three, random rage videos have now displaced sex videos as the fastest way to multimedia stardom.

The Amalayer Girl incident showed us the ugly consequences of losing cool, of failing to exercise restraint in an instance when a Robert de Niro 10-second stare at the Lady Guard’s direction would have been enough to get the point across, of failing to just agree to disagree, of just shutting off emotions for a few seconds and just consider that the other was just probably having a bad day and just went on her way. It did not have to end this way for Amalayer Girl, if only she learned the virtue of restraint.

Maybe Israelis and Palestinians could learn a thing or two from this.

THE DOUCHEBAG 2012 NBA SEASON PREDICTIONS

Philippine Octobers are as exciting as a can of liver spread. In the United States, this is baseball playoffs season, and everyone goes nuts there for this reason, among others (read: Elections). (Digression: I like baseball but just because I can’t talk about it to 763 out of the 770 people I know, it’s pretty lame. End of digression) But in the Philippines, nothing happens in October other than a few birthdays here and there, one or two super typhoon visits, the start of sembreak, and Oktoberfest—which isn’t quite what it’s hyped to be considering that it’s pretty much Oktoberfest every freakin’ month this side of the planet. Of the “ber” months, it is only October that does not have a song named after it or even mentioned in its title (e.g. “September” by Earth, Wind and Fire, “November Rain” by Guns and Roses, “My December” by Linkin Park). (Digression: Actually, Amy Winehouse has a song titled “October Song” but because I still had to google to find it it out, it shouldn’t count in my book. End of digression.) Or in student parlance, if you say you are “Octoberian,” it pretty much means you are distinguished from the “normal” graduate who gets to finish on the usual culmination month. It’s just not a sexy month.

The only good thing about October, at least for us hoops fans, is that it marks the realization of heaps and heaps of pent-up anticipation for the NBA season. Those sleepless nights when visions of Steve Nash lobbing alley-oops to Dwight, Lebron finding Rayray from deep, or Anthony Davis swatting every moving object that enters his area of responsibility, will finally cease to be just mere visions. This is when training camp begins, pre-season starts, and the season finally tips-off.

So in order to satiate my hunger for hoops before I get to chew a truckload of it come November, here are my pre-season predictions for the coming NBA season.   

In the tradition of The Sports Guy, my picks:

(Disclaimer: Again, these are predictions which are entirely based on hunches, speculations, and long stares at the ceiling. Feel free to have your own opinion on any matter written herein.)

DEFENSIVE PLAYER OF THE YEAR

Dwight Howard

Tyson Chandler winning the award last year was an aberration. The guy did not even make it to the All-Defensive First Team, which is quite an irony. After dominating the category for three consecutive seasons, the first time ever any human being accomplishing this feat, until he lost it last year, you know D-12 wants his baby back. Add to this an empowered role as anchor of the new Laker defense, you are sure that any small guy who gets by Steve Nash’s matador defense will find himself in deep shit when he sees Superman lurking under the basket.

SIXTH MAN OF THE YEAR

Jason Terry

The Jet was brought in by the Celtics as replacement for Ray Allen who “treacherously” transferred to conference rival Miami. But he won’t be starting. Doc Rivers has already made up his mind to have him off the bench. Well and good, as the Jet’s instant offense would be like a burst of Nitrous Oxide to the Celtic bench. Just ask the Mavericks. 

ROOKIE OF THE YEAR

Damian Lillard

He tore up Summer League, and he’s tearing up pre-season but this will be as unpopular a pick as Kedebon. Much as I like Anthony Davis and Michael Kidd-Gilchrist, but I think the Sixth Over-all Pick from less-known Weber State is the most ready to contribute big for his team this season. He will be the Blazers’ starting point guard, and is expected to produce immediately given the relative lack of offensive firepower on the team. And on that regard, we can expect him to carry a big chunk of the scoring load while also performing his facilitating chores as point guard—which will immediately impact his PPG and APG numbers. So, I’m betting on him for this season. But of course, he is not going to be better than The Brow or MKD in the long run. That you can count on.

MOST IMPROVED PLAYER

Wesley Johnson

I would have inserted John Wall’s name here thinking that this year would be his coming-out party, until his knees came crashing for an early season injury. So, in default, I choose a Phoenix Sun—Wesley Johnson. Johnson is a former 4^th over-all pick who has so far fallen short of expectations. Back in Syracuse, he was a total stud who thrived under the fast-paced offense and confidence given him by Jim Boeheim. In Minnesota, he was a round peg trying to squeeze into a square hole. He is long, athletic and has a decent stroke, and with this change of scenery to the Suns who, like Syracuse, are always looking to go full throttle, he may just get his college mojo back and finally live up to the hype.

COACH OF THE YEAR

Alvin Gentry

Every so-called basketball expert has basically written the post-Nash Suns off and labeled as shoo-ins for the lottery, but I’m getting a feeling Alvin Gentry is going to surprise a lot of folks this season. So for the realistic, though remote, possibility that the Suns are going to make a decent run for the playoffs in spite of their glaring roster deficiencies, their coach should bag this. 

EXECUTIVE OF THE YEAR

Danny Ainge

At the end of Game Seven of last season’s Eastern Conference Finals when Miami shattered the collective hearts of the Celtics, Doc Rivers looked like a mom about to lose a son to marriage. He was emotional, almost in tears. We were watching then what we thought was the end of an era—the final hurrah of the Boston Big Four. We thought then that the Celtics were poised to return to the irrelevant Celtics of the late 90’s to early 2000’s.

Fast forward to this season, and these Celtics don’t look anything like what we envisioned. Yes, the Big Four indeed broke up in a sense, but Ray Allen’s shoes seem like they will be ably filled-up by Jason Terry. Jarred Sullinger looks like a steal in the draft. Coming off respective injuries, Jeff Green has been tearing it up in the pre-season and Avery Bradley is looking to improve on his already impressive rookie campaign last season. Factor in the tremendous learning experience and confidence Rondo gained last playoffs, and the steady presence of KG and Pierce, and you still have a contender. Not enough though to beat the Heat, but good enough to at least contend. So that’s a big congrats to Danny Ainge for refusing to be left for dead.      

MOST VALUABLE PLAYER

Lebron James

Does anyone of you honestly think that after Lebron has finally grown some balls and figured out how to use his exceptional athleticism and physique to dominate the game of basketball during the last playoffs, he would just throw it all away and return to his awkward fade-aways from 15 feet and beta-male complex during crunch time? I don’t think so too either.

MVP RUNNER-UP

Chris Paul

As CP3 is seeing his Staples Center housemates—the Lakers—revamp their roster and push themselves as legit title contenders, he must be seething mad inside (because if Stern did not veto last year’s trade to the Lakers, he may have been a Laker by now). Yes he now has a hopefully-sane Lamar Odom, a healthy Grant Hill and a still-explosive Jamal Crawford, plus a year older Blake Griffin, but he very well knows that in order to equal or at least come within a few notches close to their city rivals, he has to be the absolute best pointguard in the game. He has to create the separation between him and the next best—whoever that may be. He needs to take masterful control of the Clippers, talented as they are. He has to make the plays when it counts. And with his fiery competitiveness, you know he’ll be up to the task at hand. 

EASTERN CONFERENCE CHAMPS

Miami Heat

Unless Lebron suffers some nasty freak injury in the playoffs, no one in the East can touch the Heat. No one. Not the crippled Bulls. Not the aging Celtics. Not the inconsistent Knicks. Not the up-and-coming Nets. No one. So for the third year in a row, give the Eastern title to Miami. They are a huge-ass dinosaur right now, way too much for their eastern competition to swallow.

Western Conference Champs

Oklahoma City Thunder

Unlike in the East where the choice is pretty much locked, the West should be in for a photo-finish. The defending Western Champs, though, are in for a solid challenge from the ridiculously formidable Lakers, the much-improved Clippers, the dangerous Nuggets and the steady Spurs. Not to mention two darkhorses in the Grizzlies and T-wolves. That’s about as solid a playoff cast as you can get. I’m giving this to the Thunder though on the ground of “equity of the incumbent.” Plus they got potential jackpots in former No. 2 pick defensive specialist Hasheem Thabeet and former can’t-miss prospect Perry Jones III.      

Darkhorse of the Year

Minnesota Timberwolves

            Sure, All-Star Kevin Love will be out for two months, and sophomore sensation Rubio still has to come back. And sure, this team is a perennial lighting rod of bad luck. But for sure, you also know that this team was in the cusp of the playoffs last year—without Rubio for most of the season. And you also know that Euroleague MVP Andrei Kirilenko and Russian National Team pointguard Alexei Shved, fresh from sensational Olympics tenures, are out to prove that they belong in the big league, with the big boys. Add to this the fact that Nikola Pekovic is proving that he can mix it up with the best bigs of the game. And whaddayaknow, you got a playoff contender who is going to strike fear into the hearts of any first round opponent.

Pogi's Un-pa-pogi Legacy

             In Naga City, we fondly called DILG Secretary and former city mayor Jesse Robredo “Pogi.” We wonder how this came to be since he was never your pa-pogi politico. His un-pa-pogi ways are well-documented. You must have heard stories about the good Secretary disdaining tarpaulins welcoming him whenever he would grace an occasion or visit a locality, or the fact that he issued an order prohibiting local officials from putting their names, initials and images on government projects. Pogi frowned upon political pa-pogi-ism. Call it epal, if you will. He espoused working under the radar, work without fanfare.

Pogi had kept himself, his effectiveness, his competence, his achievements low-key. He was never front-page fodder. He never trumpeted the numerous reforms he initiated at the Department of Interior and Local Government. It is interesting to note that before his ill-fated flight, Pogi never had media exposure this long and this comprehensive. As a matter of fact, in the last survey conducted by Pulse Asia which was sometime in March, 2011, Pogi only had a 38 percent approval rating, a far cry from media-darling Justice Secretary Leila de Lima, who led all cabinet officials with 61 percent.

With Pogi’s quiet public service and his tenacious stance not to indulge in the ways of pa-pogi politics, he was virtually shooting his national political career on the foot. The hype-influenced, machinery-driven popularity contest called Philippine Elections would have eaten the competent, effective, honest and sincere but low-profile Robredo alive. Not that this is Pogi’s fault, but this is because the established norm is not friendly to the likes of Pogi. And this in the most-awfully painful sense, bites.

Had he lived, he would never have become President, nor a Senator, not even Congressman. Not with the voting public’s distorted opinion of political characters as painted by media and PR persons, as well as a penchant to sway to the side of candidates or would-be candidates who enjoy front-runner status.

Pogi had none of these essential elements for a successful foray into national elective office—machinery, popularity and timing. But what he had was the drive to perform while shunning the spotlight. What he had was an ideal that public service was the first and foremost duty, the pa-pogi is never a part of it. What he had was the vision of the finished product—efficient, effective and transparent local governments which the people can and do trust. For him, the finished product will do the talking.

Sad to think that only after his death that the nation, as a whole, realized what a sincere and competent public servant Pogi was, and what a good national leader he could have been. Yeah, the what-could-have-been.

The life and death of Pogi essentially teaches us to dig deep into the pogi-ness of a politico. Some pogi-looking could be mere superficial creations of media, good PR guys and fancy tarpaulins in government projects. While those un-pogi-looking may actually be pogi deep inside, they just don't choose to indulge in pa-pogi ways. The public must learn the art of scrutiny-- to be like the suplada hot chick who does not fall for the mere flowers, chocolates, fancy cars and kilig texts of suitors but gets to know them first, does the research and looks inside their hearts. The public needs to be hard-to-get this time.

The 2013 Elections are coming. This is our time, our test.