teenage goddess

I intended to post about this movie after I marched through the wet, windy chill to the Loews of The Avenue at White Marsh in my McGuffian homage of hoodie, stripes and Chucks but after the age of sixteen and specially after a harsh introduction to winter, I had always been in some kind of funk during Decembers.

Oh well, I have the DVD now, naturally, for I love indies. I always somehow associate them with a contented state of unemployment which have, once upon a time, existed for me-- living at home, taking trips to Bacolod to buy my Lola's insulin then rent 3 free 1 laser discs at Quadtech.  

I was never this succinct of mind, words and spirit as Juno. I struggled with self-expression and my only decisiveness was not go without umbilical approval from my Nanay & Tatay. I had the pretty, developed teen-queen BFFs but had to ape as their personable but weird token friend whose behavior had to be explained by the cuter members of the clique to win the senatorial elections by a hair. I owed my popularity by being one of the few who gets driven to school. I may have been part of the in crowd because of family Volkswagen Brasilia, but I wish I was this cool enough not to give a fuck what people said. In college, oh boy, I was an amoeba not even known enough to be a reject. The only thing I could be proud of was how resolute I was to not become a cliche. Specially in the LaSalle School of Nursing.

My Torontonite sister tells me her curmudgeon co-worker and fellow Flip remarked, "Sana inangkin nya na lang yung bata tutal sila naman pala yung nagkatuluyan (She should have held on to the baby since she ended up with the father, anyway)," pertaining to the Ellen Page and Michael Cera characters. Pregnancy and marriage have never been options for me back in my Third World hometown let alone solutions. Books, films, music, education and Marc Jacob Sgt. Pepper jackets are and still is. 

By the way, this Penny Saver scene I swear seems like it's totally been shot at the park behind my sister's apartment in Vaughan Road even though the film was shot in BC. I also could definitely tell the film wasn't shot on US soil. The whole environment was too.. too.. well-adjusted to be American. Sorry, Jason Reitman.

So is living like a snarky sixteen-year-old Stooges and Patty Smith fan hiding from life? Should one feel less alive for not-so popular choices? Don't ask me. I'm still figuring it out. All I know is that it takes a certain amount of spine to stand by my shenanigans (just had to sneak the word in, hehehe). Honest to blog.

closing walls and ticking clocks...

Oh summer, how much can one cram into three wee months of sun before the cruel grays of the cold months take over?

They may not be necessarily the greatest band ever although they are one of the biggest, there is something about Chris Martin & co. that stirs an ardent, polarized yet somewhat civilized wide-scale kaffeeklatsch. There are far more brilliant lyricism and far more innovative musicianship but they are far from middling either. Perhaps casting comparisons and A-list affinities and proximities and being in the know aside, these blokes just happen to make good music that happen to resonate in our joint existentialism. The song below is a prime example and a particular, personal fave other than Shiver (see past blog post).

Much like the summers that come and go into our lives and the questions wether we have made the most of them the song ticks and tocks with an urgency and constancy like a timepiece that seemingly verges but refuses to bog down-- "cursed missed opportunities..."

Speaking of summer, with several fellow greats have albums out and are of course touring. Foos, check. NIN, check. Dylan, check. Cornell, maybe. Have to check my sched. REM, have to find somebody to switch with at work. Radiohead, I wish but Chicago is too far. Pearl Jam may be out of the question. Damn PJ for being too expensive (why Eddie, why?)!!! Coldplay.com please pick me for the free Madison Square gig, PLEEASE!!! After all these, I'm going to be broke. Damn it.

Coldplay is releasing their fourth album taking part in series of unconventional releases by big acts in a show of middle fingers to the evil record company traditions.

Clocks
Coldplay
from A Rush of Blood to the Head, 2002

Lights go out and I can't be saved
Tides that I tried to swim against
You've put me down upon my knees
Oh I beg, I beg and plead, singing
Come out of things unsaid, shoot an apple off my head and a
Trouble that can't be named, tigers waiting to be tamed, singing
You are, you are

Confusion never stops, closing walls and ticking clocks, gonna
Come back and take you home, I could not stop, that you now know, singing
Come out upon my seas, curse missed opportunities, am I
A part of the cure, or am I part of the disease, singing

You are, you are, you are, you are
You are, you are
And nothing else compares
Oh no nothing else compares
And nothing else compares

You are
Home, home, where I wanted to go,
Home, home, where I wanted to go,
Home, home, where I wanted to go,
Home, home, where I wanted to go.

allegory & irony, man

It all starts with an explosion in the deserts of Afghanistan.

Summer is a-nigh. Time for bikini's, snarky tees, bare feet, music fests and superheroes. Blasting the door over for the sun to come in and annihilating the wintry doldrums is the somewhat unlikely Ironman.  Despite the CGI ammo and Oscar A-list artillery of a cast, this could have been easily just another summer cheese platter from the big studio craft service. Much to everyone's surprise the fanboy also-ran (except for the hard-core ones, natch), grossed over the 100-million mark domestically and as the last of the credits roll, the geek in everyone gets awakened and wriggling for sequel.

Perhaps it is of  little faith to ever doubt an actor's actor like Robert Downey Jr. who, according to Zodiac costar Jake Gyllenhall, has a 100 & 1 different ways to approach a scene. He so engulfs the role that even after the snazzy CGI armor comes to fore, his presence still pretty much takes over through the virtual Titanium.  The analogies to Downey's real-life persona may help but his Tony Stark is a glib, bacchanal, unapologetic yet downright charismatic, campy brat ("Press conference. Cheeseburger first") who's claim to superhumanity are merely acing MIT and a trust fund-- a quasiatom of Gates & Jobs and Paris & Nicky. Taking a lesson from the Fantastic 4 fluff care of Jessica Alba, Jon Favreau  puts his Swinger ethos to good use using the ably nuanced Paltrow as stoic and even-keeled Virginia "Pepper" Potts who provides more veritas than just being able to sprint in escape from a killer robot in strappy stiletto Louboutins over iron grates. Terence Howard poses a heroic and heretofore portentous figure to eventually fill in the iron suit and then War Machine. As father figure and nemesis, Obadia Stane, Jeff Bridges is both reassuring and menacing--the Dude transmogrified as evil capitalist. The horror.

The critics, the fanboys and the random audience talk about the makings of this superhero and the criticism of America's wars. I read in one Yahoo review, complaints about using AC/DC in the opening as a little cliche which pretty much is representative of certain points that escape the American movie-goer. On the get-go Tony Stark is introduced as somewhat of a dick. With due respect, what can be more fitting soundtrack than Back in Black, the theme song of the all-American dickhead? Seriously. In its pivotal points the film flings popcorn, albeit lovingly and glossily, at not just the American war but the American way which most superheroes or superhero films protect, uphold and concentrate on:

1. In his first attempt Ironman doesn't rescue a blonde or red-head in distress falling from a skyscraper or a family in perilous car trouble in Iowa but an Afghan family in some obscure village on the verge of being torn apart by the devastating crossfires of bullies with big guns.

2. The usual hangouts of Stark are in Vegas, Malibu, & LA--superficial wonderlands of lights, cars, mansions and easy women. The only reference to NYC, the city of the world, is by a Box of Ray's Pizza flown in by private jet.

3. In a press conference, Burger King in hand, Stark looks back on the loss of promising American lives with MySpace pages and witnessing firsthand the havoc of  the American system of "zero accountability". 

4. By the way, Tony Stark in the comic book world is a Republican.

Watch out for the fallout from the Red State-folks, once there is a lull in the election coverage. Or the point may just go over people's heads which is well, quite ironic.