Dear Friends
The Grim Repat here–
“Where the hell have you been?” My laptop died, and with it went my draft and my Premiere. Its been unwilling to cooperate for almost a month now.
So with my office craptop I’ve put together a small video during my lunch break to sate whatever curiosity you may have if you have any haha. So in case you were wondering, I thought I’d say hello through this video.
I’LL BE BACK AND WHEN I DO LET’S PARTY, GIF STYLE.
Sorry for the delay, it appears that I’m still stuck in 2011. Sorry sorry sorry, somehow to film render isn’t the best kind of year-ender. If you should ask, then the answer is yes I live in the part of the globe that is just about New Year’s right now, I think this is Alaska, and we’re about to head down to the bar and do a countdown with the seals–so I’ll make this quick:
Ta-da. This is the YouTube version. I’ll be uploading a better Vimeo one, because I tried all morning and it looks grainy from all the sweat that went into it. So this is the delay, and I wish I could say sleep was.
Again, thanks very much for everyone who tagged along to help out with the music video. This is the first try, early days still. Let’s see what we can do in the coming months!
This is Ang Bandang Shirley’s “Patintero/Habulan/Larong Kalye”.
CREW:
Director (and somehow animator) – Mara Coson
Director of Photography – Sarie Cruz
Camera Operator – Alec Rivera
Production Designer – Therese Regalado
Assistant Directors – Paolo Apagalang and Gracie Vergara
Sound – Jedd Dumaguina
Color – Sarie Cruz / Paolo Abrihan
Special Thanks:
Ang Bandang Shirley and Kathy Gener | the crew above | Mall of Asia marching band| Everyone who agreed to have video face time I love you | Young Star | Revo Naval | Sonny Thakur | Paolo Abrihan | Chiko Hernandez
Lyrics:
patintero, sa tapat ng bahay niyo tayo maglalaro, kung saan nahahati ang daan ng mga linyang nagtuturo na kahit laro ay mayroon ding hangganan. patintero, sa ilalim ng araw tayo maglalaro, kung saan tayo ay sinusundan nitong aninong magsasabi na bawat galaw ay may kahulugan.
nais kong mahagip ng damdamin na bumubulusok, liliparin nitong natatangi nating pagsuyo, habulin ng matulin na tibok ng ating puso at ang maiiwang tanong na lang ay kung papaano.
tao po, yayayain sana kitang maglaro kahit sandali lang. kung gusto mo, pwede tayong magpiko, pamato mo ang aking puso at wag mong aapakin ito.
kasi kung ika’y aking mahuli, di ko kaagad masasabi kung ano ang una kong gagawin sa yo. at kung ika’y maaabutan, hinding hindi ka bibitawan kasi kanina pa tayo naghahabulan.
halika na, wala nang tao sa kalsada. tayo’y maglaro na muna, kahit sandali lang. magtago ka, ako na muna ang taya. hindi ako titigil hangga’t hindi kita nakikita.
itong pagibig ay larong kalye lamang…
Rendering took so long, I stared at my laptop for an hour nearly crying at my before-lunch deadline and lack of sleep. Sorry.
One more hour, I promise!
And then we can all drink champagne.
Let me explain “Novembere Before Christmas”. I was told that it seems like I had been drivel-ing under the influence because there’s no narrative to this, ‘pero meron, meron, meron’ (‘but it has, it has, it has’ –as immortalised by Carlo Aquino in ‘Bata, Bata, Paano Ka Ginawa?’). I wanted to analyse the whole idea of Santa Claus by sending him down to earth outside of December, but then I also wanted to speak ‘with’ Jarvis Cocker (so naturally I had to make him the real Santa Claus… naturally), expose the Philippine Christmas anthem that is Jose Mari Chan’s ‘Christmas in Our Hearts’ (as a child, I used to believe it held the power of Christmas Spirit), pretend I was Kevin from Home Alone II (who doesn’t want to beat up Harry and ‘Moiv’?), and then make everyone feel all ‘fuzzy’ in the end, from Bowie’s innocent duet with Bing Crosby. All under five minutes.
This was meant to be a pre-December Christmas special and come out on the thirtieth of November (it would get buried beneath all the December jingle bells otherwise), but that night (last night) I found myself watching Ely Buendia and the rest of the Octaves do a cover of Like a Rolling Stone. I can blame no one but the smell of his aftershave.
And if anyone cares—it’d be nice if you took a gander at my new Inquirer column, ‘Mama Says Mercy,’ when it comes out early/mid December.
There’s also a lame-o The Grim Repat Facebook page that you can like, because I want to post updates and the schedule there, and know what owning a page feels like (nothing that special but it’s there so…)
Next episode will come out on the first of January 2012.
The Grim Repat Episode Four from Mara Coson on Vimeo.
So I’ve repatriated.
Don’t leave (haters, you too can stay for the free support group muffins by the side of the auditorium).
It gave me a cold sweat when I found out that I might have, almost as though I shouldn’t be allowed to have repatriated until episode ten (that is, six months later). But I kind of have. If my blog turned human (like that Cantonese film ages ago that Kris Aquino was in where she fell in love with a dog or where her lover turned into a dog?) it would start to consult its existentialist philosophy blog friends and ask them what it’s living for.
But this is the only fourth episode out of the tenth, and god damn do I have a lot still up my sleeve.
Now that the moving in is complete and the books in my balikbayan boxes have turned my shelf into the beast of burden, I think whatever angle episodes 5-10 take, it’ll still look and feel the same.
Don’t worry, my skills won’t go anywhere either– the videos will always have this aesthetic. Stop asking me if it’s deliberate– what an insult hahaha.
After a serious screaming argument with my mother over the Tate Modern part with Fergie saying shut up (me being pro saving two hours of fixing it and with my mom saying that it’s important to hear), I decided to just explain it here. I was trying to say that a city’s art museum collection usually features artists from other countries, and these artworks, in turn, are visited by people from other countries. In a way I find art museums sometimes float on air or stands on international territory. And I suppose that would be a nice way to look at repatriation these days. Bow.
(I forgot to mention in the credits that the audio clip of the man coughing and saying ‘excuse me pow’ is yes, yeah, you guessed it. Mike Enriquez. Oh and if you like the last song, go click here for the complete video or ) here .
Episode 5 release date: November 30. See you when we get there.
Just on the off-chance that there will be new visitors, please enter with reluctance and know that I acknowledge these entries suck. This is not going to land SXSW or Cinemalaya, or anything like that, so if you’re okay with some awkward few minutes then go lang ng go.
This episode is about work, commutilation and being a yuppie. The damn journal’s shameful and it sucks, but if you want to watch this third episode and cringe like crimped hair, then do it now.
Location: Metro Manila, Philippines and Lala-land
Mode of Transport: Jeep and MRT and tsuper fast car
Theme: Lost in Translation, riding hungover
Unsolved Mystery: Who gives the names to Philippine typhoons?
Income source: Yuppie agro-cultural practices
No end to my shame and self-indulgence. This is episode two.
Bicycles work in Copenhagen, Melbourne, and Barcelona so I thought to try it out here. I used to use bicycles to commute once in a while but here I think I would use it to die. I’m too much a wuss next to these road warrior cyclists. Next time you see one, mouth ‘wow’ as they cycle past you.
If you’re brave though, have a gander at Hocus, a bike shop located at the Collective.
Manila repatriation. Ho yeah.
Forgive the lo-fi cinema veriterrible-ness. And my voice.
Will happen again.
The biblical prodigal son is now your modern-day, post-art school (or something or other because I didn’t go down that bicycle route) gender-neutral, ex-young’un back in the hands of family with the metaphorical lamb being yet un-rediscovered.
It’s that time you move away from the illusion that where you spent your early twenties was actually your home, and that the holiday/home time share has reversed indefinitely.
Your mother is your new housemate.
Welcome home.
I always tell people you have to live in Manila to love it. I’m proving that statement for myself again. Don’t get me wrong, of course this city rocks the Asia Pacific region. Of course this whole ordeal isn’t The Odyssey. It’s better. Better Ocampo.
So join me as I go through the motions of Manila repatriation. Or imagine it with me at least. You’re all out there, but I’m right here.
