“sa akin lang naman, inaanyayahan ko kayong tumaliwas kay gloria.” Fred L. Rebadulla II, Lispong Terorista
How refreshing. After months of mundane days, i was able to bathe in the rain, so to speak. i was so thirsty for something beautiful to break my days. thank god for indie films. i visited this NGO for indie films, and watched their series of shorts, plus that one main film.
the place is housed in a humble building, and it also houses a congregation of nuns. when i went there, the lobby had an exhibit commemorating the victims in the Hiroshima-Nagasaki bombings. i sat there, reading poems and looking at illustrations.
i wanted to read a Murakami book i borrowed, but i wasn’t able to bring it. it was breaktime, and i wasn’t in the mood to socialize with other indie film buffs. all i thought of were my grade school days when we had to write about the Hiroshima bombing. i remembered i was in the library, reading a composition of this girl about doves. white in the midst of dark grit, i thought.
i fell in love with two movies: the ballad of mimiong’s minion, and lispong terorista.
the first is similar to the last film in akira kurosawa’s Dreams entitled “Village of the Watermills“. The Ballad of Mimiong’s Minion shows the male, young protagonist losing his passion for music. formerly an activist singing in bars for freedom, he is now besieged by loneliness caused by people’s apathy. he gets thrown out from the bar which is also his residence. he sleeps in the park, with only his guitar as his companion. in the morning, he finds his guitar stolen by a poor, blind man. the blind man says the guitar is his, and continues playing a ballad. almost crying bloody murder, the young man followed the blind man to his home, and there begins the reawakening of the young man’s passion for life. i wouldn’t want to give any major spoilers for film buffs out there, but the texture of this film is similar to kurosawa’s film. i had goosebumps on my arms when the credits rolled in.
lispong terorista tells the story of a wife of a policeman. seized by personal and social tragedies, she lets go of her sanity, and lives in days of sadness, anger, and nostalgia. the director of this film is an activist, using his short film to shout to the world his hatred towards Gloria Arroyo. at the end of the directors’ interview, he shares the following message: “sa akin lang naman, inaanyayahan ko kayong tumaliwas kay gloria.” he made it sound so easy and so light, with his feather-like voice and soft hands, that i saw him as a lost angel with a hungry army waiting for him by the gate.
we weren’t able to finish the main film, since it was rudely interrupted by brownout. i was itching to end the film, but as i was walking past the stairs, i heard someone say in a serious tone to his friend: “di kaya kudeta na?” i was waiting for a chuckle, but all he got in response was silence. it would have been out-of-this-world if we were raided, and i’d be part of those accused of inciting rebellion. i’d be photographed with a lost look on my face, and an imaginary grin. but the only thing that happened was this: i walked out of the building, committed its location by heart, and walked under the lampposts. two streets away, the lights were ablaze, no signs of any brownouts. i would have wondered about it, but i was busy weighing words and images from the shorts i watched, i wouldn’t have noticed if stars collected at my feet.