Fire and Ice for Refinement

Let’s talk about movies. Everyone who knows me know that … movies, they are my very first love. Blame my mother. I was practically born in a movie house, not to mention the infamous escalator fight at Ali Mall between Tony (my legitimate father) and Sugar (my biological father) while my Mom was showing re-issues of movies during her Makati Film Society years. My life itself seems to mimic every cliche in every movie. And I don’t joke about these things.

Last night, I was surfing the cable and couldn’t find anything to stir my interest (even after Mai had texted me about Star Trek: First Contact on HBO). Going from Disney Channel to ETC 2nd Ave I would have to pass through Discovery Channel. I rarely stop over there. I’m not a documentary chick, I bore easily and my attention slips away quickly. But, surely the name Chen Kaige would catch my attention and would make it stick like glue.

Chen Kaige is the director of “Farewell My Concubine” … not really my favorite Chen Kaige/Leslie Cheung/Gong Li movie (I like “Temptress Moon” better between the 2 movies). However, I cannot deny the fact that IT IS a remarkable movie. I was raised with a Maoist point of view (a little too biased that when I went to college, that was the only time I found out that the quotes I was raised with was actually from Sun Tzu’s Art of War), so watching a movie debating that era is something NEED TO BE WATCHED. I mean my brother’s other name is Rojo Guerero (Spanish for Red Guard, isn’t it?), and this movie tackled the roles of Red Guards in the Cultural Revolution.

I’m one to uphold culture. Even though sometimes I don’t understand it, I’m a soldier who will fight for it, unconditionally. It doesn’t matter if its pop or art, Philippines or any other nation. Jologs is a culture. I fight for it.

So imagine my shock and my revulsion when I saw “Farewell …” and how it depicted the struggle for culture to survive. I was so young when I first saw the movie, I didn’t understand it quite fluidly. About a month ago, ABC 5 (Bless them all!) showed the film and this is when I fully appreciated an article I read way back in 2003 from Time Magazine (1995). It relentlessly discussed the three faces of China and their corresponding movie. In mainland, they have a rich pool of talents, yet they are severly oppressed. I guess, oppression and hate does cultivate finery, as fire and hammer mold exquisite silverware.

So does that mean I need to feed my hatred to produce wonderful works? I did well with “The Prophet and the Chlorox Kids” because I disdain the actual experience. I did well with “A Warm Alaska Night” as I was hating myself and the betrayal I had to go through back then. So now that I’m content and relaxed, am I unimaginative?

[TO BE CONTINUED …]