(fighting elegy still from criterion.com)
This weekend, I delved into territories closer to home and yet still distant in parts. I’ll post my two cents on (top to bottom) Seijun Suzuki’s Fighting Elegy (1966), Wong Kar-Wai’s Chungking Express (1994) and Happy Together (1997).
For now, I’ll say this: worth watching!
Ingats!
There is this cool looking guy in Akira Kurosawa’s High And Low (1963) that for a big chunk of his performance, wears this giant shades. And it’s amazing how this highly reflective pseudo-eye shades alienate him from a densely packed club (and distinguishes him from a slew of other characters Kurosawa brings to the table).
May I indulge myself for a paragraph’s moment to say that this club scene, this sequence is one if the things why it’s fascinating to view and review Kurosawa’s works. It, like the four minute train sequence found in the square middle of this movie, is full of layers; a big .psd file. Why did Kurosawa’s camera lingered on an African-(American?) character way after the man with bug-like shades left the scene? Why are there so many damn reflective surfaces in the scene? And that music and dance! I’ll leave it up to those who’ll watch but I just think it exudes a certain coolness, the same ‘cool’ you feel watching Tarantino’s films.
the seven samurai. can i be an eighth?
I don’t know. These past few weeks, seeing these Judai-Geki (Japanese period films) and of course hollywood blockbuster mammoths like Transformers or Star Trek, try as they might to make these characters human, morefully fleshed character so that somehow I, along with the audiences can relate to these ‘bots or see a piece of me in James Kirk. But dear reader, I am not an adventurer. I am not a traveler or a pseudo-Magellan sailing the seven seas. I am but here in my chair and contented enough as it were to just pop in my DVD or an audio broadcast ad watch and listen and dream.
I might dream of these herculean tasks and journeys. I think about how wanton (but still fascinating) the acts of men are compared to the all seeing eyes of gods, seen in epics like The Lord of the Rings, or Kurosawa’s (breathtaking) Ran. I think about the struggles of medieval peasants to strive and survive (Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai which was the base point of John Lasseter’s A Bug’s Life). I think about modern day adventures of overcoming modern day problems (like Sean Penn’s Into the Wild) and how sometimes things don’t see through.
What are myths and legends anyway?in our post-post-war world, or the contemporary age, they are affimations of what humans can do to the fullest, what our hands, and minds can overcome. We see these superhuman characters and see either our capability or our weakness.
Writing this now, I think of me sitting here and asking myself, what do I think of myself? Am I weak or potentially strong? When can I get up and do something outside? When can I smell the air, see the trees, see the people? What wild acts am I capable of? When will my advnture start?
Searching down the internet tubes from essays, passages, anecdotes, fan sites and movie pages, there isn’t a lot of records about Mr. Mifune, who we were (certainly I was) introduced at the start of our VIDPROD1 class as the bandit Tojamaru in Akira Kurosawa’s Rashomon (1950). May I add that that event sparked my now-four-months-and-counting rediscovery of Kurosawa and by association Japanese cinema. One aspect of Kurosawa, as with other great actor-director partnerships, is the actor. And here, dear reader, is a great actor who I think based on a slim number or recorded stories, true or exaggerated, may have been a very nice, very good man. In this times of exaggerated celebrity worship where headlines by the media recounting petty things done by A-list, even B-list stars range from what they are wearing?!, what they ate after breakfast!, what candy they have on their purses, what formations do their poo form when they come out their rear?!?- trivial (somewhat interesting) things, it’s heartening to know that even the most famous Japanese actor in the west cleans his own office, sweeps his own yard.
Now that’s a pleasing OMG! or YES! or OKAY! headline.
“Japanese Actor Toshiro Mifune cleans his own dirt: Proof celebrities are human enough!”
Here, in a somewhat weird interview, probably recorded during the 80’s, Mifune tells about his experiences in the war, his knowledge in photography and how he wanted to utilize it for a job, say, maybe at the movies. But rather than be a ‘the tripod’ man, as he so applied at Japan’s Toho studios, his friends, unbeknownst to him, sent an application in his name at Toho Studio’s Fresh faces contest (think Starstruck except untelevised, or ABS-CBN’s talent center).
Kurosawa scholars recount that Kurosawa likened to Mifune, a person of no acting background, for a couple of reasons: 1) he’s swift and agile. Kurosawa has been recorded saying that ordinary Japanese actors need [somewhere between] 10 feet of film to play out an emotion, Mifune can show a range in 4. Number 2) he’s willing. Mifune, though untrained, was willing to do just about anything Kurosawa wanted him to do- to the point of risking his life. When Kurosawa noted that Tajomaru has wild lion antics, Mifune went to study lions and dogs. Number 3) Mifune’s walk. If you were to watch and rewatch the opening of Kurosawa’s Yojimbo (1961), or the early chase sequence around Kyoto in Stray Dog, you would see this swagger, this style of walking that frankly, I dream of imitating. On a tangent, the epic Seven Samurai (1954) displays Mifune’s quick, lightning fast movements.
Here’s the man himself in transformations as diverse as jelly beans: (from top left, row by row to bottom right) Sanjuro (1962), Drunken Angel (1948), I Live in Fear (1955), Hidden Fortress (1958), The Bad Sleep Well (1960), Kikuchiyo in Seven Samurai (1954), Stray Dog (1949), Rashomon (1950), Scandal (1950), Throne of Blood (1957), Yojimbo (1961) and High & Low (1963). And these are only from his Kurosawa collaborations.
So where am I going at here? It is nice to read and see this guy, an ordinary Japanese of his time to stay down to earth even at the cusp of fame. There’s even one anecdote showing his extreme want for cleanliness and order: he was observed putting his cigarette butts in neat rows after using them. I saw this interview, the only interview of him in color as yet I have seen, and in it he mentions some name calling, as some people who pass by his office tease him as Mr. Clean, Old Vacuum Man, Minister of Cleaning… It inspires me to be just as great, just as placid, just as normal.
Mr. Mifune, I’m definitely a fan.
At the corner opposite Intercontinental Manila’s pearl inspired fountain at Ayala Avenue, Makati we would see the buildings of PLDT, PNB and the start of the the Ayala Museum. These are grand structures; PLDT with its red accented walls against muted grey, PNB with it’s dominating traditional angles and the mathematical glass-metal-chrome play of the Ayala facade. They, dear reader, like a number of other structures inhabiting the steel & concrete jungle of Makati, Makati the Philippine’s business jungle are geometric, tall, spit shine polished, masculine and expansive (not to mention expensive) in their own rights.
But whenever I go to Makati, I always notice the other thing that’s also situated near the PLDT, PNB and Ayala buildings, it’s not imposing like the others but just as mysterious, it’s not as shiny and reflective but just as hard to see as the other standing structures and it’s definitely small- it happens, dear readers, to be a wall.
Dear reader, if you happen to find yourself walking near Intercontinental Manila’s GMA-millenium-special-featured-with-Regine-Velasquez’s-footprints-in-the-sand-anthem famous fountain, look to the other side and you’ll see a ghost.
It was probably 8752 Ayala Avenue.
It’s a wall near the under pass and nearest to the PNB building. I remember the wall having it’s address in full copperplate glory, but now, as you try to piece whether the first number was an 8 or a 2 or a 7, the residue, the remains, the ghost is all that is left, forever seared into the wall.
It’s my small pleasure passing by this ghost. A ghost. I am enamored by what this can mean. It is as if I am looking at an artist’s artwork, the one you find in shrink-wrapped, full price art books. It’s an address that was there, but now, it is has moved to another place. What is left is it’s memory, an imprint that it had been there and in some way affected the wall and the people passing by.
It was probably 8752 Ayala Avenue.
This is a conversation between two middle-aged women at the seat behind me on a bus going to Laguna. Their chatter was loud enough to seep into my earphones. Rather than complaining and bitching & moaning, I decided to get my pen, my paper and paused my music player. As a precautionary measure, to prevent the event of these women finding out what I’m doing and possibly break my neck to kingdom come, I decided not to put down my earphones so I can be in the guise of listening to music rather than their chit chat.
Here we go:
Lady A: …eh, sa phone ‘di ka nag-fafacebook…
Lady B: hindi
Lady A: ayan, naiinis ka sa phone na ‘to
Lady B: ito, O, Diba
Lady A: Meron din ako niyan
Lady B: [pause] Talaga 10 pesos per 30 minutes? Smart!
Lady A: Sa smart, sa smart gamit dineh
Lady B: O, ayan na naman…
Lady A: sigurado kang 10 lang
Lady B: O, tingnan mo, failed to connect
Lady A: Tsinelas ako din ako…
Couple of things to point out. First the obvious: Hindi ako pwedeng maging spy o stenographer. Diyos ko po. Second, middle-aged women working in Makati know tech stuff! They were talking about phones connecting to YMs and Facebooks and the ‘net, they were talking in detail about how they don’t go to their PETSOC (pet society game app) anymore and how they manage to squeeze a bit of internet time before going to work, during work and after work. Sorry, dear reader, if I fail to jot down word for word the astonishing discussion but it looks like it would take years of practice to perfect the art of speed writing.
One thing i would add though, these two women segue into tangents beyond the issue at hand. That’s why I managed to write ‘tsinelas’, as they were talking about Liliw. I did not know how on earth they got from facebook’s Pet Society to Liliw.
It has been nearly three weeks.
And it always occurs on a Monday or Tuesday. It is always around noon. And it is always in the same terminal. He carries his backpack on his back and carries a large pink sack with his two arms. Recently the sack he uses is green. He stands outside the door. The door folds open. He walks up and inside. He switches his sack sideways so as not to distrurb the other passengers as he makes his way to the back. And this I am puzzled by, for there is plenty of room in our noon trip, lots of seats in front and in the middle. But always, he makes his way to the far back, to the right most side. I collect and give tickets as I make my way through he back. And upon arriving there I stand in front of the boy. I notice that he has anticipated me. It appears he always does. He sits upright. I ask him where he is headed. He tells he’s going to Taft. I nod and bring my puncher about. I hand him the stub and he pays me. I give him a peso for his change. After this, he slips it in the front of his bag, the front already opened, as if anticipating the peso to be received. Then he crosses his legs and slumps his shoulders. From the pocket he slips out his player and attaches the right bud to the right ear, attaches the left bud to the left ear. He pushes them to find the right fit and spends the next minute looking for a song.
I leave him, approaching the passengers in front for tickets. I ask them where they’re headed. A number will stop at Mantrade but most will alight at Buendia, just like the boy. I look at the back again and I see only his hair. He looks at the window, his eyes dart about. His face is calm, sometimes sleepy. But I wonder what he is listening to. For it looks like he laughs or nods as if there were someone talking. And then, as his and the passengers’ destinations draws near and as the bus slows down and moves to the side, I wonder what was he listening to. What song if it ever was a song. He notices the bus is slowing down. He looks at the window and notices he is at Taft. He plucks his buds out and wraps them to the player. He opens the pocket of his backpack and slips it in. Then, for a moment, he ponders. When he does, he speaks to himself- a silent conversation.
I am puzzled by such an activity. The bus finally stops and the people line up in the middle. He is the last person to go out. He takes his sack and carries it sideways and when he steps down and out the bus, as I and the bus move away, I see him put his bag down. He wipes his sweat. A pause. Then, he appears to smile. It is as if he has heard a good story, a tale that kept the boredom from creeping during the trip.
I close the bus door and turn to Robert. I tell him about the kid. He laughs. That’s one weird kid, he says. At least he’s not harmless, I add. Robert turns the wheel and U-turns near Pasay. He breaks the silence and turns to me: now it’s time for that talkative sister and her nun friends, he jokes. And indeed, as the bus stations in the terminal, passengers waiting, I could swear I hear the chortles of a woman getting louder and louder as the passengers come and position themselves about. Robert gives me a look, affirming his prediction. I open the door and passengers steadily go looking for seats. I stop. I take this breath.
And then, I say to myself, another trip, another round, another set.
Let’s be honest: We sometimes watch movies to think, to ponder, to be enlightened about the meaning of life and so on and so forth. Sometimes. But, most of the time, you buy that 150 peso ticket and the 80 buck popcorn because at the end of the day, you might want to forget the problems of your world and would rather have fun.
We like action movies, because unlike us, the characters in these movies do something. They act, and they act in ways we will only dream of. And so, I think, the action genre has a lot of potential to be entertaining as well as thought provoking.
Michael Bay’s Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen manages to entertain and to provoke. But for all the wrong god-awful reasons.
A quick post, but a nice one, I’m sure:
While browsing through pareng Google for movie posters, I saw a link to the awesomeness that is criterion.com:
A nice, NICE, nay- GREAT poster for Akira Kurosawa’s film, Rashomon (1950).
It turns out that:
And so, here at AFaW, to make us more relevant to whoever reads us, we present “Kalyeng Cahiers”, thoughts on movies now playing in theaters, will play in theaters or have just been played in theaters.
So, to start off, we’ll post our mind words on ‘Taransefemers 2: Revenge of the Fallen’.
Stay Tuned.
Chris
PS: nakakatuwang DVDs yung nasa pic, eh in theaters nga yung dapat i-review di ba? Waw.
