must-watch movies - part 1

(source)

Movies are my favorite past time. Whenever I needed reprieve from the mayhem of a cubicle or just in the mood for lazing, I ring friends’ numbers and ask them about what movies to watch before the earth swallows me whole. I always get good recommendations and many I suggest to other friends too. Good movies are too precious not to get the popular viewing that they deserve. These are my top picks of flicks that are worth a good 90 minutes or so of your time (and would still want a second or third viewing despite anything that Rotten Tomatoes has to say). While my picks may not cause a stir in you (you, spoilers!), I would like to make an unsolicited endorsement just the same. Recommendations are welcome. And loads of porcorn, too.

(While movie-makers will continue to make good films, I'll be adding to this list from time to time. Just saying.)

Legends of the Fall. This Anthony Hopkins and Brad Pitt starrer is a sweeping family saga at the backdrop of tragic romance to an epic scale. Good, just good. 

Big Fish.  A gripping glance at father and son relationships. This is currently one in my top 5. Yeah, I can be that sucker for these dramas.

Finding Neverland. A depiction of JM Barrie’s inspiration for creating the classic Peter Pan tale. Johnny Depp is a well-liked actor too.  

Casablanca. Personal top pick for a romantic flick. Just watch it. Undoubtedly an immortal.  

Bridges of Madison County. A song has this line for its lyrics: it’s sad to belong to someone else when the right one comes along. This is pretty much about it. Makes you think. Love indeed has a greater meaning. 

Three Idiots. A story about friendship that will stand through time. Anybody would want that, eh. Got me chanting “all is well!” for a while.

The Lion King. My very first favorite animated movie. A rich storytelling that is highly relatable. This will be loved by both young and old, father and son. Hakuna matata somehow became a personal mantra.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. A charming melancholy you wouldn’t want to erase from your silver screen experience. We’ll that’s just me talking.

Into the Wild. An inspiring, haunting odyssey to self-discovery. This non-fiction’s poignant end elicits both comfort and conflict.

Sideways. Funny and moving and surely not about wines. It will stir you sideways.

The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises. Probably, the two best Batman movies of all time. The fact that Christopher Nolan created both poses no further skepticism. A smart story-telling and way above being just comic-book movies.

In the Mood for Love. This Wong Kar-Wai classic is a gripping tale of suppressed longing. Gets you into the mood for love with its unique visual rendering.

Little Miss Sunshine. A moving, unpredictable comedy makes you revisit that inherent desire to win.  In the end, it will win you over to better yourself.

In Bruges. A surprising gangster film that reinforces your belief in change and second chances. Colin Farrell's comedy is a revelation.

Amelie. The poster says Amelie will change your life and it will. An illuminating movie bliss that says fantasy may just come to life. A delightful comedy. 

Chocolat. A light drama about defying conventions. Chocolat is just so sinfully delicious you cannot resist.

Fight Club. First rule: Don't talk about fight club. Second rule: Don't talk about fight club. So, let's just start reeling. A classic. Soap, anyone?

The Departed. Violent, exciting crime thriller that will not depart from you for a while.

Life is Beautiful. Life is beautiful and this movie is, too. Both poignant and sweet.

Pan’s Labyrinth. A smorgasbord of a film. Fairy tale plus drama plus conflict and violence plus myth and magic. Not a movie for kids but a sure great watch.

(500) Days of Summer. A clever and zany romantic story. Sweet and endearing, I have 500 days to fall in love.

Up. Masterful and full of life, Up will carry you to that direction. A lovely love story you’d want to share to your children and grandchildren. Oh-uh.

The Royal Tenenbaums. A quirky comedy about disappointment that never disappoints. Delightful and offbeat to a certain degree.

Children of Men. A futuristic thriller about man's struggle to recoup its ability to procreate. Disturbing and riveting both in the same way. What if...

The Shawshank Redemption. A prison drama which is a compelling testament to hope and human spirit. A moving, redeeming delight.

Cinema Paradiso. A nostalgic film about friendship and love. It felt like Dead Stars turned into a movie. 

Lost in Translation. A light tale about coming into terms with disillusionment and dealing with dilemma. Warm and dreamy and funny.

Almost Famous. An engaging tale of director Cameron Crowe’s experience as a rock journalist. A very endearing film I wanted to jump right into a bus after watching this. Well, almost.

The Way Back. This movie, which was inspired by real events is an epic story of endurance and will. Uplifting.

More coming soon.

(The photos are not mine, obviously.)

i write like... cory doctorow?

There's this one website which 'analyzes' your writing style and compares it with some of the known writers. At a friend's suggestion, I tried it.

I pasted some entries of my blog and got varied responses: from American horror and fantasy writer H.P. Lovecraft to Irish author James Joyce (whose writings can give you a headache. Some claimed they had blood oozing from their noses while reading Ulysses. I did not attempt.) One blog entry was hooked-up to Dan Brown. (Of course you know Dan Brown!) I read only two of his works so far – Angels and Demons and his major break, The Da Vinci Code which I read a few years ago.

But one name keeps coming out: Cory Doctorow. I got this badge on four of my blogs:

I write like
Cory Doctorow

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I am unfamiliar so I searched him in Wikipedia.

Cory Doctorow is a Canadian blogger and journalist/ activist and author of science fiction. He maintains two sites boingboing.net and craphound.com, both heavy on tech and digital stuff. A college dropout (he went to four universities but did not earn a degree), he is an author of several novels and short stories and has been lauded in some of his works including two John W. Campbell's (sponsored by Dell Magazines for science fiction and fantasy writing) and two Sunburst Awards (annual Canadian awards for 'speculative'(?) fiction writing).

He believes in more liberal copyright laws to allow free sharing of digital media which must be his most likable advocacy on a personal note.

He quips: “If I am going to be a writer, earning a living in the era of digital text, I need to understand where the opportunities are. They won't disappear, they'll just be different, and need to be recognised. In the last days of Vaudeville Theatre, they sued Marconi because radio was killing Vaudeville, where you had to pay to go into a relatively small room to listen to music and voice. But it didn't kill music, the outcome was a thousand times more music, making a thousand times more money, reaching a thousand times more people. But in the short term, there was panic. If digital text will result in hundreds more authors, with hundreds more novels, I need to be in the middle of eBooks. I need to be heavily engaged. All those people downloading my text is good news.”

I am far from writing-to-earn-a-living but think I just found a hero.

(Blogger friends, try this out. Your discoveries can be a great fun! Here's a link.)

yielding

Sometimes you are torn between doing something that you wanted to do but still must not. After careful weighing of the pro’s and con’s, you still feel that you had been putting this off for what seemed like an eternity already. Then it builds up to the sort that gives you an itch somewhere and ties a knot in your stomach.

So what do you do?

I simply gave in. I closed all logic for this one delusion of grandeur. And man, it tasted like no other things of sweetness. And finally, I screamed to being the king of the world!

Then you realize that in acquiescence, doors are opened to a myriad of things and the white canvass is now splayed with crimson invectives. Bolts are unlocked to Pandora’s box but unlike it, it’s not only about the devils of the world – in a snap, you’ll see what’s it like when the gates of heavens open. When you finally hit it, the thunders did not roar but instead, I heard the harpists playing.

Now, there’s no stopping to my capacity to create. I believe the ability is instinctive in every man: the prowess is just a matter of potency and stamina. A little wit and creativity maybe, but that’s not entirely required. As far as I am concerned, I will do it when I want to, where I want to. I can’t give a damn if there should be styles.

I gave in and finally (as in finally), I got my own notebook PC and I can do blogging at my own time. Now, it’s not what you’re thinking.

blogs in the bin

I’m a prolific writer. Fact is, I write from the most consequential (like that epiphany from my neighbor’s frequent midnight quarrels) to the most trivial of things (like say, the Aquino inaugural). But since I’m a fastidious publisher as well, most of my works barely made it to proofreading.

Here are samples:

That ode to Wowowee. Just the mere recall makes me cringe. One time, I watched this sappy episode (by the way, most of them are) of one of the show's game segments featuring father and son tandems which immediately crept to my mawkish alter ego and found me pounding on the keyboard shortly after. But after realizing how pathetic the scenario seemed that many Filipinos consign their fate in long queues just for the chance of bringing home a few bucks, it is hardly about an encouraging melodrama. Not to mention that the main host’s piquant and supercilious banters can sometimes get so despicable.

A recollection on moving houses seven times in ten years. On it, I relived the pangs of leaving and the anticipation of moving along with the peculiarity of every new discovery in each new place. Like those winding roads which lead to some of those places, the analogy of my writing wound up in mid-air. I never got past house No. 3.
 
Those musings from our afternoon debates in the office. I suppose, we have already tackled the entire range of debatable issues (finance, politics, population, education, sex, blah, blah) reason why the points have turned to be just a blur. (But really, I was afraid news might get through our HR and I be reprimanded for spilling. I’m too neat for that.)

Some of the pages were mere titles or first paragraphs.

In all these, there’s one thing that I realized: writing is just like, er, love – if it’s not into you, it’s not into you. No matter how you try to gloss over those little phrases you have just coined, if the elements are not there, it just becomes nonsensical drooling. So if you don’t have it, don’t push it. You might just find yourself hitting ‘delete’ more often or worse, find your work in the bin.

PS. Don’t be swooned by that first paragraph. That’s another silly talk. :-)  

scenes from a jog

 Minutes past 5am, gates creaked at my exit. Neighbor puffing cigar calls out: ‘Going early for the sweat?’ I snicker: ‘Soles and knees aching again, must be the damned uric. Need to get rid of some.’ Headed for the hike. Neighbor’s dog barks. Brisk walks way past it.

Curved FS Pajares coursing towards the rotunda. Others jogging ahead. Two ladies trail some meters behind. In rhythmic paces, I advanced for the ascent. Two ladies u-turned towards plaza. Must be going back for the taebo.   

Knees slightly burn. Damn, last weekend’s nonattendance is taking its toll. The steep climb a couple of meters ahead. Jogged in circles, warm-up style. Fetid smell from tumbled garbage bin across the avenue taints early morning air.

Tackled the ascent. One, two, three, HAH! One, two, three, HAH!

Approaching rotunda now. The rising sun creates the golden glow far east. On the left, Manang is starting flames out of dried mango leaves.

‘Good morning, bro!’ A comrade at a retreat. Grins a reply, waves.

Rounds the rotund path. Ahead, couple hold hands while walking, the woman’s belly bulging. Sighs. Jogs toward the bend. Another jogger approaches from the other side, Akon playing loudly on his MP3.

Downward the curve, I slow down. There, a client with husband. Remembers how kulit she can get when paying her SSS. She smiles, I smile back. Asks: ‘You look familiar. Where was that you were working?’ ‘The bank Ma’am’, I answer.  

Another ascent for the next round. Lady up ahead. Lady tugs dog. Lady in taut jogging pants. Don’t recognize the breed of the dog. Dog sniffs something on the grass on the side of the road. Dog won’t budge. I am near now, lady coy. I smile, she smiles back. Dog still won’t budge.

Third round now. Few stretch on the open field overlooking the sea. Bend to the left, turn to the right. Most of 40s. Maybe 50s.

Stationary jog after fourth round. Bro and client pass by. Faces the sea. Poseidon puts it to rest. Was it the sea or the trees that breathed to my face?

Sun’s slow in rising, the trees cover its trace. Tricycle screeches in. Passenger looks out. Three rounds to go.

Looks up on my right, ah, mangoes. Looked for ripe ones but there’s none. Thirsty now. The cup of Milo was now all perspiration.

Finally, seven rounds. Next Saturday, I’ll make eight. Stretch. Old ones do breath in, breath out.

Descending. Strides in rhythm ala Kuya Ferdie’s instruction. Good for posture. Late joggers still make the ascent.

Hikes by the road shoulder. Couple in a distance, man cups woman’s face. Left foot forward, right foot forward. Follow the damn line.

Couple inches away. Woman, no, girl, teary-eyed. LQ or ‘I am pregnant!’ Groans.

At the plaza, taebo’s wrapping up. Neighbor from old place jogs across the street. Waves. Something, a gadget, is wrapped on her arm.

Treks down further. Manong carries on his head a basket of bananas. ‘How much?’, I prepared to haggle. ‘Not for sale. Fruit vendor up ahead already paid in advance.’

Nearing Rizal Avenue, traffic starts to build. C3 might be inaugurated early, construction’s moving fast.

At Sam’s, I wait for hot pan de sal. No. 8 my card reads. The guy with unwashed face holds No. 43. I look at the guard. ‘The numbers are in groups of 50s’. He reads me.

Finally, I have my pan de sal. I hailed a tricycle. Maybe Jhie’s already awake and boiled water is ready.