Movie Review: Mamarazzi (Funny, but wrong on so many levels...)

After a mind-blowing pop-corn session with a downloaded version of “Wanted,” the wife and i decided to skip “Salt,” Angelina Jolie’s latest superspy vehicle. And seeing as how local cinema needs a boost, we decided to see the funny Eugene Domingo’s “Mamarazzi.”

And man... some things never change...

The title seemed immediately creative, but seemed to have very little to do with the story. You can find the plot (sans spoilers) here.  Anyways, i “learned” the following from this movie:

1. Andi Eigenmann is such a huge star (not) that they had to go through the lengths of duplicating her for no reason that can help the story other than to let director Joel Lamangan play with the effect.

2. Eugene Domingo is a really good actress and is genuinely funny, but she really needs a better supporting cast, which John “Sweet” Lapuz provides, but everyone else doesn’t.

3. Diether Ocampo’s character needs to have his eyes checked. If i looked half of Diether Ocampo and i suddenly find myself a widower, i will not look for Eugene Domingo.  His character is thinner than the paper they use to wrap candies in Japan. He didn’t copulate with Eugene Domingo’s character (spoiler!), so how can he (and Eugene) even walk into the scenes with a straight face. Oh, right... it’s for a manufactured plot twist. Geez.

4. Carla Abellana is really cute. I think GMA just screwed up in casting Geoff Eigenmann opposite her in “Rosalinda.” But if she bides her time, she will be a much bigger star.  Funny how she isn't as tall as i thought she was from the "Rosalinda" posters.

5. It’s okay for a desperate woman to look for a one-night stand to get pregnant (are we seriously teaching/showing this to our children?), as long as she can feed, clothe, and educate her upcoming children. We have a 2-year old daughter, and we are afraid that our once-conservative people is now championing something like this.

6. Drag queens must be encouraged. Now this is an odd one for me. I have a handful of gay friends and a multitude of gay acquaintances who are quite respectable and do their craft well, whatever craft it may be. But i’ve always been of the mind that gay people really ought to come out of their respective little closets, but i wish they would stop thinking they are female because they are not. Gay people are men/boys who prefer to be intimate with other men, but they are not female. They will never be female. Drag is not the way, dudes.

7. If you have a star in the caliber of Eugene Domingo supported by someone as talented as John Lapuz, everyone else is a cardboard standee meant to meaninglessly crowd the screen.

8. Regal films will never outgrow the song and dance number somewhere through every movie.

9. It wasn’t totally bad, but it could have been better given the talent it had.

*Yawn...*

‘catch you later...

Concert Review: Boyz II Men, Aug.13, 2010 (Nowhere near the End of the Road for these Boyz)

Lower box tickets courtesy of the Manila Bulletin. Sweet...

August 13, 2010, Araneta Coliseum - Passage (the band) was a surprise front act. In that i was surprised they were still around... Honestly not sure how many of those guys were part of the original Passage line-up. But who cared...? They helped kill time, their bass player did a cool rendition of Prince’s (or the Artist Formerly Known as Somebody Else Everytime) version of “Betcha by Golly Wow”, and somehow proved to the waiting Boyz that no one had secret bushels of rotten tomatoes hidden away somewhere.

* * * * * * * *

So out came Boyz II Men, specifically Nathan Morris, Shawn Stockman, and Wanya Morris. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, no Mike McCary.

They came in, had a brief introduction, and broke straight into “Motownphilly,” arguably their most enduring up-tempo piece to kick off the show. And somewhere through the Boyz’s frantic Motown-style dancing, the veteran concert-goer in me was looking for more than missing bass singer Mike McCary. Mike, who was promised to us from their last concert, apparently was not able to work out a deal with the rest of the Boyz. See here.

so, uh... where's the band...?

So i was looking for a band. You know, the guys behind the Boyz playing guitars, drums, keyboards... instruments, man... never mind that they didn’t have back-up singers. They were Boyz II Men, dammit... any two of these guys put together can beat the sound of a 20-head choir. But it was kind of weird, and almost sort of sad to find that the Boyz were singing to pre-recorded backing tracks, complete with harmony overdubs.

But they were still Boyz II Men... and for what it’s worth, i believe Boyz II Men are among the very few musical acts that can pull off something like this in a venue as big as the Araneta.

Set list for the concert was as follows (in order):

• Motownphilly
• On Bended Knee
• Please Don’t Go Away (the first track on their eponymous debut album, before they shoehorned Babyface’s “End of the Road” that sent the record skyrocketing through the charts)

• 4 Seasons of Loneliness (see unprofessionally shot

video using a camera phone below)

if you can't see the video, and really have the time to kill... here's a youtube link

• Amazed (originally by country band Lonestar)

• Open Arms

• Water Runs Dry

• The Colors of Love

• I’ll Make Love to You

• Song for Mama

• End of the Road

• Iris (yes, THAT Iris... by the Goo Goo Dolls)

• Back for Good (by that OTHER boy band, Take That, now a man band more famous for launching the career and ego of Robbie Williams)

• Motownphilly encore (geez, they could’ve ended the concert with any other song from their extensive catalogue... like maybe “Thank You” from the “II” album, or even the funky “Beautiful Women” from “Evolution.”)

Wanya still lets it rip like no one’s business. Sounds like he has fully healed from the polyps situation a whiles back. Nate croons in that husky baritone better than ever. Shawn... hmm... now here’s something to talk about... Shawn’s personal high point for me was the “Mr. Holland’s Opus” soundtrack single “Visions of a Sunset,” which he wrote and sang. And taking the schmaltzy hallmark lyrics out of the way, “Visions” was a melodic work of art, and Shawn’s vocals were a falsetto masterclass. And while many, many Boyz songs benefitted from Mr. Stockman’s brand of smooth, sometimes his singing lately (both on tonight’s live show, as well as their records) is starting to sound lazy. Almost as though he has become too confident at the ease with which he hits those soaring notes that the only thing missing is a mug of beer and a dare.

Most musical acts have unique twists to their shows that sort of become identified with them (e.g. Jim Chappell invites a member of the audience to clink three notes on his piano, which he will improvise into a song on the spot, Robin Wilson (of the Gin Blossoms) sings into the cellphones of lucky audience members, Kenny G plays through the crowds like a pied piper, and even does an “unplugged” version of a song with purely acoustic instruments, etc.). It would be nice if the Boyz can include at least one purely acapella number in their set list, with or without Mike.

You listening, Boyz? This here is a bona fide fan right here, and this fan wants to hear live acapella... been at your first concert here, gifted my brother with tickets to your second, and caught your last one here. You have my guarantee that the wife and i will be at the next one, and the next one, and the next one.

* * * * * * * *

After twisting the wifey’s arm to go to these concerts with me, she is forming the wonderful habit of being pleasantly surprised at who sang what, and seems to have reduced the frequency of frowning whenever i tell i’m dragging her lovely ass into another concert.

One thing though, she did comment that the concert somehow felt like a big karaoke session with Boyz II Men, but then simply added that the Boyz were really, really good... “especially the short and fat guy...” and oddly enough, she liked them better now than when we first saw them many years ago in the open field concert held at the Fort, which was a terribly, terribly managed event.

Got me the latest serving of remakes by the Boyz, the “Love” album, at the coliseum lobby. CD review coming soon.

‘catch you later.

Movie Review: The Expendables (Everything's expendable... even the plot)

It was a movie that made me feel so “man” for seeing it, but so “un-man” for being a teeny weeny Asian imagining myself in a losing brawl with Dolph Lungdren.

Considering the physical shape the guys in the movie were in, I was almost tempted to believe much of the movie was CGI... i mean, many of their biceps were gigantic enough to be considered separate cast members.

Of course, i didn’t go there looking for a plot, and the wifey was resigned to the fact that the flick was going to be just another adrenaline ride, and just a wee bit more hearing damage.

Jason Statham totally owned the movie, Sly Stallone was just really having fun with it (even bringing in his Planet Hollywood buddies, Bruce Willis and Ah-nuld the Governator for cameos that did nothing for the story. Waitaminit... there was no story to begin with anyways... but i digress...), Mickey Rourke mistakenly thought he was expected to do some serious acting, Jet Li’s script was probably written by Russell Peters, or some other racist a-hole, and everyone else probably did acting workshops in the gym with dumbbells. Operative word being “dumb.”

But yes, i totally enjoyed the ride, and i’d come back for a sequel. Oh, and so should Van Damme.

‘catch you later.

whoa, kiddo...

Someone managed to piss me off this past week.
A relatively minor pissing off, but a pissing off i was not expecting from someone who seemed to have a nice "good guy" aura about him.
But from lines like "eh, sabi yan ng president natin eh... heh heh... i guess gawin natin...," i knew his spine was about as sturdy as a breadstick... At least at that time, anyway. I don't know him much right now, but he seems like a hardworking guy who knows how to play his cards. except with me, i guess.
I mean, if our president has creative input on something i've done for the chapter, i would have preferred he tell me himself. But since you're the project chairman, i can somehow appreciate that ole' prez will delegate the menial task of relaying menial revisions to the menial member doing the menial fucking art chores for the project.
But man... have the spine to tell me if you fucking agree with the prez's feedback and stop playing messenger, dammit... you're the goddamn chairman... i took on the project from you knowing i was going to take orders from your sorry ass, then at least give me the goddamn order.
But here's the "piss-point"... be fucking reasonable about your expectations on the fucking order you do end up giving me and my sorry graphic designing ass...
You call me up in the middle of the day, telling me you need to have the newspaper ads with you before noon of the next day. You said you were going to email me the sponsor logos soon.
12 fucking midnight is not "soon," loser.
When you email someone what he needs to finish your project at 12 fucking midnight, you do NOT ask if it's possible to get the shit before noon, dammit. Not if I have a fucking day job. Hell, i have TWO fucking day jobs...
You may ask nicely, but you do not ask reasonably.
Learn, kiddo...

'catch you later.

Fogged out...

Before i get around to my next “Letter to Marge,” my long-forgotten “Letters to Prez Glow,” my long overdue CD reviews of Side A’s latest effort sans songwriting treasure-chest Joey Benin, Sade’s latest lazy-smooth-cool offering, and Gino Padilla’s ultima-cool “Hands of Time” CD that he generously sent my way (damn good music in there, especially the lead single “Keeping the Memories Alive”) or many other pointless posts, i make a futile shout out to the cyber-ether that i am getting my brains fogged out in my extended stay in Baguio City...

The wife calls it burn out. But i’m not exactly tired. Fogged out is more like it. So fogged out that while riding an escalator up to take the roofdeck shots you see here, i found myself realizing that my face was dangerously close to a point-blank fart shot from the native right in front of me...

And i'm so fogged out that i discovered it was possible to run out of things to google for...

There’s always something to do around here work-wise, and it always feels rewarding to be able to finally pitch in on the family businesses, but the 12-hour shifts and the running out of open restaurants at 9-something in the PM are total bummers.

But the house here is really nice, the garden’s nice (but no time to enjoy it), and the weather makes everything picturesque. And with the city being the tiny little thing that it is, at least Marge and the wife can drop in from time to time. And the wife will try to console my Maverick itch by giving me an imaginary (but not too imaginary) countdown to when we drive back and i find myself posturing in the office like Denny Crane, insulting my team like Gregory House, and only recently dreaming that i can be as suave and talented as Don Draper.

I miss bookstores. I miss Comic Odyssey. I miss cinemas. I miss Maverick. Good thing i’m going back soon for another spell.

This post (like all other posts) is pointless and will not change the world in any way. Thank you for reading this far. By now, i know who you are, but you guys do not know who i really am. But that’s being pseudo-highbrow figurative, dudes...

(photo at right is my daily view for about 8-10 hours on almost every God-given day, including weekends, but with much more people than the shot here since this was shot after hours, and yours truly was sooo bored waiting for the cashiers to turn in their stuff...)

P.S. Happy Birthday, Mia!

‘catch you later...

Movie Review: Inception (All in my head...)

Saw inception last week. Actually saw the first 45 minutes a whole week before that. But we called home and found out that Marge was hitting 38-point-something on the thermo, so we dropped the movie and headed home.

Ho-hum...

Here’s the synopsis that i don’t care to repeat: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inception_(film)

On second viewing, the first part of Inception was easier to absorb and sort of made sense on a mechanical level. The plot trigger though, where Ken Watanabe commissions Leo DiCaprio’s “Dream Team” (pun intended) to plant an idea into the head of Cillian Murphy’s Robert Fischer to avoid a supposed energy monopoly is paper thin.

The monkeywrench on the plot being the unpredictable appearances of the gorgeous Marion Cotilliard throw off Leo’s supposed leadership of his little crew is amusing and ultimately heart-wrenching. But again, someone like Ken Watanabe’s character who was supposedly powerful enough to get Leo through immigration with just one phone call probably didn’t need to have some over-slept dream mercenaries deal with a weakling like Robert Fischer.

And where’s Freddy Krueger in all this?

After Ellen Page’s visually spectacular initiation into the dream world, i was expecting a lot more eye candy, but didn’t get it. Still, the film was engaging and DiCaprio has proven himself yet again as a good lead. Is it just me, or is Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who plays his sidekick Arthur, an absolute dead ringer for the recently-departed Heath Ledger?

And somewhere in the halls of Malacañang, Pres. Noynoy is thinking of calling up Leo DiCaprio to try and get into Gloria Arroyo's brain... Leo and his ragtag crew will then run into sick scenes of Gloria having dwarf sex with her rumored bigotilyo baby Nani Perez, while Miguel Arroyo looks on...

Box office conquests aside, with a more convincing plot device, Inception has the potential for something much greater than what it ultimately did storywise. For better or worse, i hope Chris Nolan does a sequel... with Freddy Krueger.

‘catch you later...

Concert Review: OPM Through the Years (Lots of Old Hits, a Few Honest Misses...)

The concert on July 17, 2010 was dubbed "OPM Through the Years," and it featured a relatively impressive line-up of local talents who have had their share of radio hits or have been on stage long enough to seem to be able to assure a good show.

My compliments to Eloisa for getting good seats through Ticketnet, and off to SMX went the wifey and i... Concert's over, wifey and i had gone home, and here's my skinny on the performers for the night:

Gino Padilla - after an enjoyable album of remakes (see review here), Gino Padilla was actually the performer I wanted to get the most of from this concert. And with Joey Albert flying in for the show, I was hoping for a duet of Joey’s classic “A Million Miles,” which I unfortunately didn’t get.

Gino’s voice is still in fine form… He also managed to find room in the crowded repertoire to belt out three of his signature songs… wasted a lot of talent and stage time doing “Mr. Suave” and another novelty song. Will hopefully catch another of Gino’s performances where he breathes life into the classics like he did on his latest album.

Verni Varga – one of the mainstays of TV music numbers back when TV’s had rotary channel changers, and “Voltes V” posters were given away by Purefoods together with overly colored hotdogs, which they still sell today.

My ignorance, and rather early age during her heyday somehow excuses me from being familiar with whatever songs she put out on the airwaves. But all her venue touring did her well in that she was obviously still used to belting it out with the best of them.

But we went there looking to listen to “OPM,” not Verni’s (albeit impressive) version of “Power of Love,” and “Pokerface.” Good thing she finished up with her original “You’ll Always be My Number One.”

One last thing… In this day and age, nose-jobs are not only acceptable, they are the norm, especially for people in showbiz… but why do most nose-job patients almost always look alike? There were times when Verni almost resembled an early version of Madam Auring.

Charlie Green – who the…!?!? I eventually found out he was one of those “internet sensation” types who found his 15 clicks of online fame doing a kiddie version of the standard “Summer Wind.”

For a kid, sure he can sing. But it seems like little more than a novelty to me to watch a pre-pubescent version of Michael Buble. Let’s see if his “singing career” survives the testosterone onslaught and subsequent voice change.

The CompanY – the singing of this fine vocal ensemble has never been questioned, and their performance is always gusto-filled. However, their weakness as performers has always been the very pop level of appreciation of the general Pinoy audience. And despite their massive collective talent, have not reached the star status they so deserve.

Cecille Reynoso’s subtle performance of their original “Muntik na Kitang Minahal” is easily a highlight in the CompanY’s performances for the evening.

Joey Albert - *sigh* where do I begin with Joey…? Let’s get something out of the way: everyone who loves OPM, or simply good music for that matter, loves Joey Albert, including me, the wife, and dozens of other people I know.

But she seriously needs to retire from live performances.

Joey Albert is immortal. “A Million Miles,” “Tell Me,” “Ikaw Lang ang Mamahalin,” and so many others are over two decades old and still sound relevant (not to mention on everyone’s secret guilty playlist). As an artist, Joey Albert has nothing left to prove. Her much-publicized fight with cancer and subsequent flourish of health and renewed life are also more than admirable. She need not mess with the perfect memory of mine that is Joey Albert of 80’s.

Okay, so my only claim to any relative form of musical training is a brief stint singing bass in a college choir back in the early 90’s, but knowing what little I do and having seen so many singers get on stage past their prime, I honestly believe that Joey Albert could have been more creative in trying to get her old tunes (and her old notes) across to the audience without trying to sound like a poor karaoke version of Joey Albert.

The money notes are over twenty years old, Joey… you’re living a nice, quiet life in Canada and probably don’t get up on stage as much as everyone else on the show today… You are Joey Albert… music lovers like me still speak your name in awe. Stop trying so hard and just sing at the range you are left with. It’s okay. We understand and still love you and your music.

‘nuff said.

Basil Valdez is a musical demi-god. He is probably one of only a handful of Filipino singers whose back catalog is so rich that he can fill a 3-CD boxed set (that the wife and I bought and wanted to ask autographed, but the line was awful) with beautiful songs that have helped define OPM, and still have many tunes left over.

My wife, who while growing up (and growing old) doesn’t care about knowing who sang which song was treated to a wonderful awakening to Basil’s music. And where Joey Albert’s struggled singing and the CompanY’s reputation somehow proved the show wasn’t lip-synched, it was almost pure wonder to listen to Basil’s untarnished voice.

And his gentlemanly demeanor only endears him to the audience even more…

Not a bad evening by most measures (save for the very tardy start), but I was still hoping for that “Million Miles” duet between Gino Padilla and Joey Albert. If they did that, it would have already been worth the price of admission, which in our case was not cheap. Heh heh…

Photo below is a cheesy fanboy shot with Gino Padilla. Cool cheese...

‘catch you later.

Happy birthday to me...

Last week, i turned 37. Happy birthday to me. Whoopee...

37 is... well, it’s 37. Not a decade-marking year, not “silver” or whatever conjured up milestone most other years supposedly are... heck, it’s even a prime number (for all you math nerds out there, you know prime numbers suck simply because they do).

So at 37 i find myself drifting in that undefined space between one’s quarter-life crisis and the hopefully not upcoming mid-life crisis. I can still slide-skate across a mall or the lobby of Antel Global. But as time goes on, i look dumber and dumber while doing it. I’m at that point where making a variety of crazy sound effects in a quiet elevator no longer gets me labelled as “cool, funny, creative dude.” But more often than not, i now get looks that probably mean “you look old enough to probably be retarded for doing that.” Well, screw you. (and yes, you stiffs know who you are.)

But hey, there’s no escaping getting older. Heck, considering my many friends and acquaintances who have gone to the great beyond (a shout-out of RIP’s to Julius, Tina, Marf, Alfred, and others), one should be thankful for each year, each day, and practically every moment that passes by.

If there’s one thing i’ve learned for the past year, is that no matter how dark life sometimes gets, how painful some wounds are, how pointless so many things seem to be, it’s still wonderful to be alive. And I just had a nice massage...

‘catch you later.

While at a mall...

While at a mall, i ran into the promo below:

Gluttony is, after all, one of the seven deadly sins. And not only will this kill you, it’ll take you straight to hell for enjoying something so damn delicious.

An indescribably tasty way to go, mind you... therefore, i am inclined to believe that Haagen Daaz is owned by the devil.

But no... i did not partake of this. perhaps i should have...

* * * * * * * *

For what it’s worth, i have the mutant super power to need to shit at public places. So while still at said mall, i walk to the restrooms on the third level to find it’s under renovation... proceed to the fourth level, where i find all cubicles occupied... Then... * TING! * (bell sounds)... then... * grumbling sounds *... then i sprint to the fifth level where only mall staff were using the public washroom.

The wife gave me a bit of tissue. Enough by common standards, really. If there is such a thing as a common standard in wiping one’s ass. But i’ll go on record to say that once one is used to rinsing one’s asshole, wiping never feels enough.

But i digress...

I spied a sad, blue (literally), discarded handkerchief right behind the water closet. Most likely someone came in and did what i did, but did not have a wife who gave him tissue, and he probably didn’t have change to buy tissue from the vending machine, then chose to punish his poor, defenseless handkerchief, then discarded it.

What a sad end to such a dignified thing... Thank the heavens for a wife with tissues.

‘catch you later.

Why is it so Darth in here...?!?!

Last i heard, Yahoo! is supposed to be an information source of high esteem. Then they come out with this:

http://movies.yahoo.com/feature/buzz-log-darth-vaders-diagnosis.html

The above article could be an indicator of any of the following:

1. The Star Wars/Lucas PR machine is starting to grind something, which means we have to expect something from Georgie’s little ranch.

2. Shrinks in the place where they brainstorm for Yahoo! online articles over warm milk and cookies with too much candy sprinkles are out of work and raffled off supervillains to psychoanalyze.

3. This could be the first in a stupid series of has-been supervillain psycho-profiles by Yahoo!, which means we should expect succeeding articles to profile guys like Wile E. Coyote, Lex Luthor, and Gloria Macapagal Arroyo.

* * * * * * * *

The article in question supposes that Darth Vadah is suffering from “borderline personality disorder.” I mean, duh... The guy is wrapped up in emo-black leather threads, with a son who wants to kill him, same son who almost had an incestuous relationship with his sister, including a yucky lip-lock (awkward!!!), gets a buzzy handshake from his old boss when he gets pissed off, has a waistline so high it belongs in Hong Kong, is jammed with equipment put together from antiques dug out from Radio Shack back when the 8-track was “state of the art, “ and probably eats through a tube stuck in his ass. Ya THINK he may have a disorder?!?!

Ooh ooh... and his lightsaber is a gay pinkie color, which means that it may have a "pink-glowing-dildo-that-will-cut-your-clit" setting.  I'm guessing the lightsaber scared Amidala off...

And why on earth is there an article on the supposed psycho problems of a movie villain who doesn’t really exist? Those losers are really running out of material.

And so am i... bwahahahahahaha...

‘catch you later.

infra-red, blue tooth, gray day and a green bag of candy...

My laptop is on the fifth floor, and i'm too lazy to go grab it.

trying to use my brother's handsome (but small) Acer Ferrari...

Too lazy to work the blue tooth... settled for the infra-red to transfer some phone pics... not a slow day by any measure business-wise, but i feel like some of my neurons are atrophying from lack of stressful use.

Good thing the guys back home are getting along fine despite my erratic attendance. Almost makes me worried about the possibility of my getting irrelevant...

I've been approving an endless string of customer check payments issued by loaning companies. And what's funny is that more than a handful of them proceed to purchase appliances, high-end cellphones and even jewelry (using borrowed money!). I mean, someone tell me what's wrong with this picture?

A gray, foggy, washed out day in the once-pine perfumed city of Baguio... But not a slow business day by any measure...

Can't wait for Marge to get picked up.

'catch you later.

P.S. one of the amusing things about working in a retail outfit is that you get to catch some head-scratching "i-can't-believe-they-let-that-through" moments. One such moment is when our warehouse guy came up to the office to hand us a brand new pack of V-Fresh candies with a worker's glove perfectly sealed in.

No harm done, really. Unless the guy who used to own the glove picked his nose big time and the glove is inside out. Besides, we really don't plan on opening the pack. Just for amusement purposes...

Besides, this isn't the first time, much less the first company to have had something like this. But lucky for the Columbia Candy Company, I saw this when I had nothing interesting to blog about.

Eulogy for Virginia Kaw Kim Golangco (and more...)

My grandmother, Virginia Kaw Kim Golangco died last May 21st, 2010. She was 98.

The above is normally followed by a string of cliches in connection to going at a more than ripe old age of 98. But i'll spare you that and just refer you to Dianne Reeves' signature ballad, "Better Days."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dlFj9iCnaIE

* * * * * * * *

So that was that. She's gone. We honor her memory and mourn her passing. But sadly, considering the state she was in for quite some time, we no longer grieve her loss. Arguably, we lost her not too long after we lost her husband, our grandfather, over a decade and a half ago.

At 98, Ah-Mah was no longer cognizant of people. Heaven only knew what was still going on in that tired mind of hers.  Somehow, it seemed more and more futile to try and get her attention, much less anything coherent. She seemed reduced to people marvelling at her relatively still healthy appetite.

But rest in peace, Ah-Mah. I hope you and Kong Kong are together again. It's all you were waiting for anyways.

And thanks for being there while we were growing up.

* * * * * * * *

i myself have always had this crazy-ass fascination about supposedly dying while the going is relatively good. Call it a pseudo James Dean fetish, if you will.  Given my obsession with leaving a supposed legacy before i go to the supposedly great beyond, i get jack nicholson repeatedly sneering in my poor windblown head: "what if this is as good as it gets?"

But the ironic thing about life, is that one cannot quit while one is supposedly ahead. Once one quits (e.g. suicide, anyone...?), the very act of "quitting" negates whatever "ahead-ness" one may think one has.  Besides, how "ahead" do we really think we ought to get anyways? When is it really enough?  And if one's life was such a bed of roses, why on earth should one quit? Then giving it up would somehow indicate that how good it supposedly is is a lie, right?

But i have an excuse for that.

There are moments where everything seems just intricately perfect in every way that counts to me, that i want to freeze that moment and let it be my last memory.

It's fanciful to think how one can possibly supposedly quit at the supposed "top of his game," but we'll  just fall back into that discussion about one's definition of "ahead-ness." Or would one prefer that like Ah-Mah, after a long and fruitful day's work, one fades into the night quietly, helplessly, and somewhat too tired to feel anything anymore?  Again quite possibly, the last memory you will leave those around you is that you have lived well, and everyone wishes you well in your afterlife.  And people will be both sad, and possibly almost thankful that the bell at Round 12 has already rung for you.

And should you not like it, you'd be too tired, not to mention too dead, to notice anyways.

Or maybe people will be thankful that you cared for yourself enough to make sure that people will be beyond too much hurt by the time you go.  Just like a parent would want no less for her children.  In that respect, then Ah-Mah has given everyone the love only a mother could give, up to her very last moment.

* * * * * * * *

Between looking around the wake at the relatives, acquaintances and "who-the-hells" coming in and out, and thinking "everyone goes sooner or later," i look at their passing faces and wonder what supposed legacy THEY would leave when their time comes.

Some were doing really well, but then things went down. Some have built companies that are beginning to flourish (will things get better or worse, who knows?), some seem to just be drifting along.  But one thing for sure was that legacy or no legacy, everyone was going, sooner or later.

I always wonder if and when the time comes, if i would have already done enough on this earth.  And sometimes, my greatest wish is to be there at my own wake when the time comes, listening invisibly to everything they say about me.  But then again... maybe not.

'catch you later...

Movie Review: Shrek Forever After (Green Means Going... Away Now)

Hey, i almost forgot i saw “Shrek 4”... published as “Shrek Forever After.”

That’s good in that it wasn’t bad enough for me remember it was crappy, like i did “Shrek 3.” But i suppose it wasn’t good enough for me to remember either.

So in my pointless quest to document the droll details of my pathetic existence, i offer up my review of “Shrek 4”...

The movie starts off with Shrek enjoying/enduring the joys/pains of his domestically developing life, finds himself fed up, makes a deal with Rumplestiltskin (who is the only new fairy tale-based character throughout the movie), then turns the a few minutes of the movie into “Groundhog Shrek,” then Rumple proceeds to wreak some regular supervillain havoc and subjects our cast of ogres and faerie creatures into an alternate reality. Naturally, Shrek saves the day and they live the usual “happily ever after.”

So “Shrek 4” doesn’t have the novelty of “Shrek 1,” the soap opera drama of “Shrek 2,” thankfully none of the forced superhero pastiche of “Shrek 3,” but what it had the most of compared to all the rest was heart. Where “Shrek” movies at its core is really the love story of Shrek and Fiona, “Shrek 4” really tugged at the right strings and reminded an old man like yours truly why the “Shrek” franchise is enduring as much as it has.  Antonio Banderas' "Puss in Boots" steals the show... again.

There. Now i have to schedule therapy to stop myself from overusing these lame “quotation marks.”

‘catch you later.

Unfortunate Events #8646 (hopefully not...)

Without my saying it, somebody put two and two together and guessed right at what my business was in Baguio City. Not MY business per se, but the family’s anyways...

This somebody was the reception clerk at the home service massage parlor that i patronize whenever i am up north. She proceeded to kindly ask me to give her overage unemployed hubby a chance at a job. And since she had the power to send potentially eunuch-making sadists into my home in the guise of masseuses, i gladly obliged to at least let our HR look past his age and give him a chance.

One day, he got fired.

A couple of days later, i got a text from the receptionist asking me to give her newly re-bumming hubby another shot at employment. Too bad, not within my jurisdiction. Possibly within my power, but we don’t like crossing lines here in the family.

So for a few moments, i was left wondering what kind of evil razor-blade-wielding eunuch-maker i might get if i called in for another therapist.

My regular masseuse, Mae, is apparently unavailable tonight at my preferred time. I am offered a stranger.

If this is my last post, then you will know what happened.

‘catch you later. (hopefully)

Movie Review: Iron Man 2 (Not Even a Slightly Weaker Movie can Bring Downey Down...)

The first time I saw Iron Man 2, i was having a bad day. The day was so bad, that i spent the time in the cinema sulking with my eyes staring down on the pop corn.

Every once in a while, i found myself trying to glimpse the screen...

For one, it certainly FELT like an Iron Man movie, but somehow... err... anyways...

Saw the movie again last weekend, and my fears were confirmed. It really wasn’t as good as the first movie. But then again, very few sequels really do measure up. 

At some point, i imagined that the first Iron Man movie was so damn good, that they picked up a lot of old footage off the cutting room floor, added a few new scenes, digitally added Scarlett Johansson (who was abso-tively scorchingly hot) and Don Cheadle, pasted everything together, then called it Iron Man 2.

But i digress...

The most common mistake of sequels is the assumption that with all the groundwork for the character already laid out, they can just assume to proceed making a movie thinking that just making things bigger will end up being better. Or at the very least, the audience will be so overwhelmed with all the bombastic beefiness of the new movie that the thinness of the current movie’s story will be forgiven.

Sadly, it usually is.

On a lighter note, Bob Downey has totally cemented himself as Tony Stark. And where many actors who occupy comic book roles sleepwalk through their roles, probably thinking that the comics will fill in the cracks in their depiction, Downey took the ball, made a touchdown, ran around the field with the Tony Stark persona, and put himself in the same category as Adam West was to Batman.

In related feedback, Don Cheadle totally did not fit the superhero mold. I have absolute respect for Don Cheadle as an actor, but i kept thinking Terence Howard would have made for a better War Machine...

But hey, still not a bad movie by most standards. And yes, it’s still a Downey movie.

Manny Villar Can Predict the Future

It’s quite possible that either presidential candidate Manny Villar or his campaign doggies have precognitive abilities.

Check out the image i caught on TV via my phone’s camera...

With all the “business creativity” Manny V has been accused of lately by the media and many fellow “lawmakers,” Manny Villar may have been right in selecting orange since it’s the color of the prison garb he might end up wearing.

Check out the photo on the front page of the Inquirer yesterday...
May well be the image of Manny Villar as he walks into prison and is greeted by his fellow inmates...
 
'catch you later...

Triple Header Movie Review: “Clash of a Kick-Ass Date”

How many movies can a regular working guy with a life cram into a single week?

THREE.

Last week saw me and the wife catching “Clash of the Titans,” “Date Night,” and “Kick-Ass.”

Every movie had a reason for me to see it. “Clash...” was a remake of the old classic that i had a Betamax tape of a lifetime ago, and i was curious as hell as to how good the thing would look given today’s available bag of FX tricks... “Date...” had Tina Fey. ‘nuff said. “Kick-Ass” was a superhero movie. Again, ‘nuff said.

So on to my pointless reviews!

“Clash of the Not-so-Titanic...”

I stayed away from the forums and the advance reviews on “Clash...,” and strode into the cinema holding an almost three-decade set of memories containing the booming voice of the late great Laurence Olivier as Zeus, glimpses of the gorgeous Ursula Andres as Aphrodite, the annoyingly indelible visions of Harry Hamlin shaking his 80’s style wild hair as Perseus, and the gratuitous nude bath/sacrifice scene of Judi Bowker’s Andromeda character, which I admit I rewound and replayed in the occasional absence of real porn cassettes.

And while i came into “Clash 2010” knowing this was a supposed remake, i found it quite... derivative.

Firstly, despite the gazillions most likely spent on the effects, it didn’t have quite the grandeur of the first “Clash.” Secondly, they totally screwed up the story and had to make it a “man vs. gods” story that it didn’t have to be... and while i find Bond-gal Gemma Arterton swelteringly hot in a greek-style toga/tunic, i found her character to have been totally shoe-horned in there as a convenient escape hatch for plot problems, without the gratuitous nudity that 80’s movies were so fond of...

The Medusa fight looked like salvaged from the cutting room of Jon Voight’s “Anaconda.” Okay, so the nod to the robot owl from “Clash of 1981” was quirky, but Sam Worthington sometimes looked like he was trying to remember which movie he was actually making this time... and Liam Neeson looked so bored, i wouldn’t have been surprised if he was rehearsing his “A-Team” script in his “Clash” trailer...

Can’t wait for them to ruin THOSE memories... Time to look for a DVD of the “Clash of 1981”...

“Whatta... Date Night”

Wife asked what was in the movie... i said, “Tina Fey, and the 40-Year-Old Virgin...” so she said, “Okay... can’t be too bad...”

Next thing i remember is the wifey laughing her ass off at the dumb car chase...

Tina Fey and Steve Carrell play a suburban couple who are living a nice, but routine life. On the one night they decide to hit the Big Apple and do something different, they didn’t realize just how different the night would end up to be.

After losing their patience waiting for a table at a swank new resto, they claim a table reservation that turns out to have been reserved by crooks. They get mistaken for the crooks, and all hell breaks loose.

Fey and Carrell are totally in their element here, and the producers have competently surrounded them with a cast of losers and oddballs that enhance their characters... most notable of whom is Marky Mark, oops... ‘scuse me... Mark Wahlberg... who turns in a hilariously deadpan performance as a security expert who Fey flirts with, but end up helping save their asses...

One is not expected to oil the gears in one’s brain to enjoy “Date Night.” But one is expected to sit back, laugh his/her ass off, and finally understand how Steve Carrell made dorky the new cool, and why Tina Fey made smart the new sexy.

Cutting room bits thrown into the credits add just the right cherry on top of a real sweet treat.

I want a sequel...

“Kick-Ass Kicked half an ass...”

Stop it, fanboys... i am NOT shitting on the flick...

I liked it... can’t say i loved it... but i liked it...

The posters with Nic Cage in a Batman wannabe suit, along with 3 other characters, including the title character, totally... well... kicked ass... the posters were funny. Quite so, that i was expecting a totally funny movie in the vein of the Ben Stiller vehicle “Mystery Men.” I didn’t get it.

What i got instead was an odd comic-book movie that was promoted to be a comedy, but turned to be a (literally) bloody pastiche of what happens when Batman schools Spidey...

Aaron Johnson plays Dave Lizewski, a typical patsy teenager who does what a ton of us have surely dreamt of doing sometime after puberty. He puts on a suit and pretends to be a superhero calling himself “Kick-Ass.” On one occasion, before getting totally pulped, he is saved by some real super characters in the form of Chloë Grace Moretz’s “Hit-Girl” and Nic Cage’s “Big Daddy.”

Teenage angst and some requisite supervillain posturing ensue, and we are left with a door wide open for a sequel.

The earnestness of Aaron Johnson as the title character will win fanboys over for sure, and Nic Cage’s deadpan rendition of Big Daddy makes you want to root for him and forget he ever made “Ghost Rider.” Moretz was a total discovery and wonderful revelation, and her chemistry with Nic Cage makes you want to forgive Nic Cage for making “Ghost Rider”...

The movie’s biggest achievement is answering my personal “what if” in connection to childhood delusions of superheroism...

At least he got the girl...

-------------------------------------------------------

‘catch you later...

Movie Review: The Book of Eli (slowly turning the pages...)

Saw “the Book of Eli” a couple of weeks ago...

Just felt like putting this shit down before the rest of the movie fades out of my sad, jumbled brain...

By this time, anyone who cares to read this should already be aware of the post-apocalyptic plotline of “Eli.” They’re pretty vague about what brought about the “end of the world” scenario... either a solar flare or something nuclear... waitaminit... a solar flare IS nuclear... but i digress...

Our man Denzel Washington is a man who fights like a superhero, who should’ve been sent to go after the chainsaw massacre guy in Texas... has a supposed mission to keep heading west to deliver something that is given away by the title of the movie. We are assuming that he is meant to deliver “the Book of Eli.” Clever, huh? Could’ve been...

Along the way, Denzel runs into one Mad Max reject after another, then finds himself taking refuge in a nice little town (what passes for nice in those supposed times anyways...). Negotiates for water, turns down sex with Mila Kunis (of “That 70’s Show” fame), and pisses Gary Oldman off while he’s doing all that.

Somehow, it isn’t surprising to find that the hot item “Book of Eli” is a copy of the Christian Bible. But Gary Oldman’s long-winded desperation to find it to turn it into a power-tripper’s campaign how-to book is thinner than Nic Cage’s hair.

There’s a “Sixth Sense” style twist in the end that does absolutely nothing for the story except make you wonder about everything he did, and how he was able to supposedly do them. Not a bad movie as Denzel always turns in a solid performance. But it's not an unenjoyable movie, one just has to have pop corn on hand, and totally not forget that this is a work of fiction, and is not meant to change the world.

Oh, and Malcolm McDowell is always creepy... will be catching “Clash of the Titans” within the next couple of days... yeah... !

‘catch you later.

...musings...

At some point, one realizes that by nature, people inadvertently chat about other people’s mistakes in one form or another more than half the time.

So it becomes awkward when one finds one’s self afraid to talk about mistakes since a lot can mirror one’s own. And everything comes crashing back in my face.

The struggle becomes getting better at finding empty conversation, since it’s much better than a fearfully pregnant silence.

And through the chatter, one listens to a clock softly ticking in one’s mind. Hoping that the time of healing will be complete sooner than later.