The Unerasable Eraserheads

( This was published at abs-cbn.com's webpage. I was offered the chance to write for them just this once. Good thing it was about the Eraserheads' reunion concert last August 30, which was presented at the Fort Bonifacio Open Field. It was reported that the crowd attendance broke the record previously set by the Beyonce concert at that same venue. Hmmm. )

Unerasable: Life and love in the eternal circus of rocking youth

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By Reggie Gulle, Special to abs-cbnNEWS.com | 08/31/2008 10:30 PM

An on-the-scene report and reflection on our collective near-death-experience -- and hey, Ely Buendia is still alive

You've probably heard of the sobering news by now: Ely Buendia of the Eraserheads was rushed to hospital in the middle of the band's highly anticipated reunion concert, and what was supposed to be Pinoy Rock's event of the decade had to be stopped halfway through in front of audiences who were shown the exits with rather abrupt finality.

That this unexpected turn was a bitter disappointment to some quarters of the crowd would be quite an understatement; yes, the event organizers did outwardly announce that Buendia's life was in danger even while fans were salivating for the concluding portion of the show, but this was totally lost on some inflamed youths, who shouted vitriolic epithets to the effect that Ely Buendia should pay the ultimate price for forsaking his duty to the concert goers and should just...well, expire would be the kindest word for it.

I should know—I was there, standing beside this cruel-looking gang of punters, hearing what they must have been thinking was the ultimate expression of rebellious indignation. And while they might not have represented the majority, they were also clearly not alone.

Sure, it could be said that such a reaction reflects a callous and selfish, even scandalous indifference that an Eraserheads fan should never indulge in.

After all, hasn't it already been circulating among the legions of Pinoy Rock aficionados that Buendia has already had a brush with an anomalous life-threatening condition before? Why betray him, then, whatever latitude you could afford to give?

The very fact that the band could muster the resources and the motivation to reunite several years after what seemed to be an irreversible break-up and put together a program onstage can already be argued as the most positive result one could ask for.

Besides, the concert actually did happen despite being dogged by some controversies that seemed to conspire together to prevent it from taking off the ground in the first place.

Including, it should be mentioned, the very recent death of Buendia's mother. All the more reason to justify the statement that he was plagued by unkind amounts of “emotional stress” during the performance itself.

And so, immediately after the first half of the concert, Buendia felt a heaviness under his chest, which was a red flag against carrying on with the show, and the most sensible thing to do was to immediately haul him off to the doctors before his own medical history would have a chance to repeat itself.

And yet, one could easily sense the brooding disquiet of the crowds as they gradually shuffled out the exits. I wasn't in the paid area of the Fort Bonifacio Open Field, mind you ( I was content to sit it out beyond the fenced-in patrons area enjoying the company of scores of other wretched souls like me, having decided like them that, hey, I could hear the concert even from this far anyways, even without paying for the privilege, ha ha! ), but it was evident among the scrunched up faces of those leaving the concert area that fate had pulled on them a malicious and completely uncalled for sleight of hand, a massive criminal swindle, so to speak.

It was a bummer of bummers, all right, and the more vocal youths were not remiss at voicing out what they thought of it. Someone had to put the blame on something, anything, right? Even if, unfortunately, it was a person on the wrong end of the stick.

Because, in retrospect, the concert had come very, very close to fulfilling its promise -- a harking back, no, a reliving of what the Eraserheads essentially was. Ah yes, a palpable throwback to the 90's, when the rock band exercised a magic which was, for all that it mattered, simply phenomenal.

E-heads sa tanghali, sa gabi at umaga...

Back then, the Internet was in infancy, and yes, there were more beepers compared to cellphones, more cassette tapes than CDs, more videotapes than DVDs, and the hackney chatrooms weren't as sleek and as glossy as Yahoo Messenger.

Text messaging was a novelty as luxurious as, well, waterbeds, and there was absolutely no Friendster. But there were a lot of other things to do, too, perhaps because students (who became the first rabid core of Eraserheads fanatics ) could already squeeze into a 50 pesos per day allowance so many forms of entertainment within the week.

Movie tickets were way cheaper at that time, for one, and rock bands performing in universities and campuses were the staple diversions after the drudgery of schoolwork, instead of the internet cafes of today.

It was 1993, and the Philippines was enjoying the beginning of an economic upswing that the general population not only heard about but actually felt, no matter that the resurgence was a bit muted. MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice had come and gone, and Metallica was inspiring a slew of Pinoys out to prove that little brown rockers could also deliver their own brand of musical mayhem.

Then, seemingly out of the blue, four school chums, who looked and dressed as unassumingly as the typical college-boys in tee-shirts and jeans and sneakers casually hanging out in front of dormitories after class, had a stroke of inspiration and put together an LP of their original compositions. It was titled, rather in come-what-hither fashion, "Ultraelectromagneticpop”, and credited as being presented by “The Eraserheads”.

It was trendy in those days for Pinoy rock bands to take their cue from more current Western influences, and so they tended to sound so much like the “alternative rock” bands from the Atlantic. What was different about the sound of the Eraserheads was that it somehow had a grounding in musical forms that other Pinoy bands hadn't explored as frequently.

Most noticeable about their first album was how the band didn't attempt to sound as angry or blistering as punk or thrash metal ( which Metallica allegedly first popularized ), nor did they try to ride along the remnants of the “New Wave” sound ( reduced to the generic term “alternative rock” ).

Instead, they managed to produce a distinctive amalgamation of bouncy rhythms and deceivingly simple arrangements which drove the Pinoy folk-rock-and-pop sensibility up a few hard-driving notches, together with upbeat smatterings of reggae, ska, and for the most part--yes, that unmistakeable Beatles-like energy.

It was a departure from what other Pinoy rock bands were doing, but it was subtle, to be sure, and yet also unique enough to become immensely popular, radio-friendly, and surprisingly anthemic. “Pare Ko”, the first hugely successful single from that album, could very well epitomize the almost unexpected infectiousness of the band's musical appeal.

While the song could never be classified as “alternative rock” since it sounds in no way like others of that ilk ( it is fast and energetic but not searingly so ), neither is it as passionately vocalized as the “grunge” of Pearl Jam or Soundgarden ( which, by the way, is ultimately rooted in blues music ).

Since then

In fact, “Pare Ko” sounds more like a pack of Pinoy drunkards trying to wake themselves up into a rowdy gusto by loudly singing whatever fast melody they could conjure to make them happy. The song is tongue-in-cheek, it never took itself too seriously despite its theme of betrayed love, it sounded Pinoy, and it was rock and roll.

After that album became one of the best-selling Pinoy rock albums of all time, the rest, as they say, is history. Seven albums and a multitude of awards later, it seemed that the Eraserheads were on a rocket ride which could never come down.

And when it finally did, the fans appear to have forgotten when, how or where. Yes, the band broke up in 2002, and as of this writing that would be six years ago, yet their songs still enjoy a considerable amount of airplay, and the ever-ubiquitous videoke singers out in the streets and inside smoky bars continue belting out tunes such as “Alapaap”, “Overdrive”, “Ligaya”, and that thoroughly overkilled ditty “Ang Huling El Bimbo”.

In a way, the Eraserheads have still endured inspite of the members having all gone their separate ways, and no matter how many other Pinoy rock bands have attempted to take over their mantle. And what better evidence of this than the massive attendance at their reunion concert?

I confess that I have never been a rabid fan of the Eraserheads, but I also have to say that I could mention no other Pinoy rock act which could muster the sheer patronage which Ely Buendia, Marcus Adoro, Buddy Zabala, and Raymund Marasigan still demonstrate, even after six years of not performing together.
And so they take to the stage once again, and in their trademark style of being spare in their live sets, only a brief introduction is made before they bring on the music. “Alapaap” opened their set, and I could instantly see the electrified reaction of the crowds.

They were truly transported back when you could never get through the day without at least hearing two Eraserheads tunes. The four guys onstage are maestros of the straight-up, no-frills performance, with hardly any let-up from one song to the next, and very little conversations with the crowd ( and with each other, in this case, with reasons only reserved to themselves ).

Into their fifth song, “Fruitcake”, people were still lined up at the box-office, never mind the same admission price despite missing out on whatever the early birds had.
I sat on a curbside and jived along to the rhythms, feeling relieved that there was no rain, losing myself every once in a while to the familiarity of hearing the band perform live again, which I last had the chance of experiencing more than a decade ago.

Then Buendia made a cursory introduction of the song “Toyang”, and the first few bars brought both those inside and outside the cordoned area off their feet, jiggling their hips and singing enthusiastically along.

Hearing that old tune from them once again, I begin to notice how better they sounded this time around, in stark contrast to their former performances during their heyday, when they were often faulted for not sounding as technically excellent onstage compared to their recorded sound. I credit them for taking the time to practice well for this appearance.

“Toyang” was such a surge of energy for most of the audience that during the succeeding songs, Buendia had to ask them “Okey lang ba kayo diyan?” once or twice because the enthusiasm appeared to peter out somewhat.

But there was no denying the women's screams when the band proceeded to sing “Kailan” ( a cheesy ode to love ), as well as the more raucous audience reactions into their other hits “Kaliwete”, “With A Smile”, “Shake Your Head”, and “Huwag mo Nang Itanong”.

Curtain

In total, they got to about 15 songs when the now infamous mid-show break came around, was timed for 20 minutes, and then suddenly dissolved into a cancellation of the second set.

During that 15-song stretch, I could not help but be astonished at how the audience reacted identically, given that some of them weren't even born when some of these selfsame songs were first aired on radio.

I saw cosmopolitan yuppies in their early-to-late thirties singing along to the lyrics simultaneous with the 12 and up crowd, whose fashion sense veered more to the “emo” set and the other varieties of more contemporary rock styles. It just shows how the Eraserheads' appeal has in this indefinable manner crossed generations, and speaks of an element in their sound which truly gives credence to the term “Pinoy Rock”.

Because, in sum, the Eraserheads' sound, far beyond the others I get to hear from most other local bands, is quite essentially the spirit of the Pinoy. Buendia's schoolboy vocals draw in Pinoys from all walks of life because it sounds so much like everyone of us that we don't hesitate to sing along, and there's no need to rattle off machinegunning syllables like gangsta rappers or sound like Afro-American blues singers or caterwaul like Axl Rose.

The instrumentations from Adoro, Zabala, and Marasigan aren't as intimidating as those of other rock bands we often listen to, and many of us are also regaled to try out what they do ourselves. Their very accessibility, their easygoing demeanor, and ultimately, the predominance of effortless mirth in their sound particularly encapsulate what most Pinoys crave for, in the end. And as I said, for us Pinoys this is still rock and roll, now matter how old you are, whether you may be rich or poor, and it's excellent.
Which is exactly why, even now, it may be a reunion for the band, but it could well be what Pinoys have been sorely missing for so long, too. Especially in these trying times--the country being ridden with all sorts of crises, economic and otherwise-- when that same upsurge of easygoing mirth seems to have disappeared all of a sudden, and left a sort of vacuum inside most of us.

It was only regrettable that the audiences who were expecting to rise above this mood, perhaps during the second set of the performance ( since the first set had already been leading up to a crescendo ), was presented with a downbeat result.

Sorry, but that's the way the world turns, no one to really blame here. Even those whose frustration took on more alarming ways of expression. No doubt, this concert will be judged in time as another indelible memory to be associated with the Eraserheads, who I am convinced will still remain unerasable after all is said and done.

As we Pinoys like say to ourselves in consolation, there might always be a next time. There might. Meanwhile we can always remind ourselves that, yeah, they try to tell us we're too young, but don't worry, we'll go into overdrive, and when they try to feed you with all that dog food that they make you just shake your head and walk away, there's a fruitcake for everybody, t--g i-a pare ko, huling el bimbo, oo, pero laging may ligaya, sa tanghali, sa gabi, at umaga.

Hazy Reflections on the Pasig River

(Image From http://www.daylife.com/photo/0eQX9ku8MK9mJ )

No one, absolutely nobody, among the inhabitants of Metro Manila would register shock at the sight of so mundane a city fixture as the Pasig River. This dense and dominating body of water cutting a wide and swirling path across nearly the whole width of the metropolis has by now been taken for granted by everyone. Of course it is polluted, foetid, and as grimy as an underground sewer. Of course no one in their right minds would bathe in it, since this biological habitat has most definitely been taken over by organisms hostile to anything healthy and alive (albeit there are still a few poor wretched souls who still bother to take a dip to escape the heat). Of course it is regarded more an open freeway to rusty, muck-encrusted trawlers and tugboats than a river. And of course it is the catchbasin for every sort of industrial and domestic waste. Generations of Metro Manila's inhabitants have regarded the Pasig River as such and this same attitude would arguably stick for a few more generations to come.

How far and distant the idea of what a river ought be to the populace of such a Big City, already become the domain of high-rise buildings and condominiums scrambling and competing for space with concrete residences and hackney ghetto communities. As far and distant as the rivers and tributaries of water still accommodating many remaining less-urbanized areas, where they provide food, irrigation, livelihood, and the sparkle of nature less-defiled.

In Metro Manila, a simpler disturbance such as a house fire would create more of a stir than one glance at the sorry and dire state of the Pasig River, something that has been carrying on for quite a longer stretch of time.

Yes, I've been city-bred, but this has not insulated me from exploring greener and more environmentally-sound locations. What I notice there is that rivers are apprehended more in this way:( Photo courtesy of http://i.pbase.com/u26/kiko6/large/31652469.5LOBOCRIVER6.jpg )

Looking at the image above, one cannot help but be drawn in to this river's peacefulness and pristine clarity. You could almost see yourself throwing all caution to the wind and diving in, feeling assured that doing so would be among one of this earth's greatest and nearly unfathomable blessings. After all, aren't rivers meant to be so?

Here in Metro Manila, I always hear of people longing for water. The tropical heat is no joke, and the yearning for any escape is certainly justified. Working professionals spend great sums on lengthy expeditions to distant beaches and swimming resorts for this luxury. It sounds farfetched to imagine today that there was a time when Metro Manila folk didn't have to embark on such costly getaways to enjoy the bounty of water. Just before World War II, the Pasig River afforded both the rich and poor this very same solace.

Mention this to any passing city-person right now and it would sound like some cheesy attempt at humor. However, if one would only take the time to read a bit of the city's history, it would yield that same precise fact, and remains a part of the relevant past which cannot be denied.

Back then, the Pasig River was sanitary enough to take a splash in, never mind that people also washed their clothing there and took to riding boats on it. Back then, this river was the romantic and sweetly hospitable river anyone would be grateful to have right at their doorsteps. The Pasig River's importance those days was of such a paramount degree that the Presidential Palace was built on its flanks, and still stands there today. Which would only mean that the river was once also the playground of the high and mighty.

What a far cry from what the present generation sees--a woeful, stinking mess.

Being the commuter that I am, travelling to and fro across Metro Manila almost often brings me to the panorama of the Pasig River, somehow always stretching to the horizon. Through all of those times, I could not help but be struck by its breadth and size, and be astonished by how, even after every punishment it has had to endure, the rhythm of its undulations and the gracefulness of its surface still evokes a kind of harmony and stillness seldom experienced amidst the haste, smog, and treachery of the city. Something about it endures in the heart, something approaching the divine within the chaos, if approached properly.

Many civic groups are advocating for the cleanup and renewal of the Pasig River. However, it seems to me that simply proclaiming this as an act to save the environment is showing to be an ineffective slant to motivate people. If only Metro Manila folk were re-educated about what the Pasig River actually once was and what it could still become. Today's generation looks to ultra-chic malls and business districts in Metro Manila as premiere destinations, both in that they are mostly air-conditioned, which meets the need to escape the heat, and that they are also haunts for lovelorn couples, which would appeal to the passion and romance of Pinoys. Should these same people be reminded that, not too long ago, the Pasig River also was the bastion of these same pursuits...then it can be that way again.

Just imagine a Pasig River once again a welcome respite from the world, ready and willing to delight you any time along its whole engrossing length, encompassing more acreage and possibilities for amusement and romance than any mall could provide. It could still become that garden in your backyard you struggle hard to maintain and beautify. It could still be that locket which you so perserveringly value above all other possessions, to be kept immaculately unblemished because of its enduring attachment to your heart.

Perhaps, with this healthier respect for what the Pasig River was, and what it could still hold for us and for the generations to come, then there will arrive the possibility that everyone can take part in starting the change.

An Extortionist Government

The cab driver had a lot to complain about. It's not just about the continuous rise in the prices of oil, he tells me. It's also about how the Pinoys in government deceive you into thinking they're doing something to address it and make life easier for the simple folk, then end up formulating laws which take more money away from you in the end.

Take this simple example, the cab driver says to me. First the government assures the cab drivers that a new law has been passed ordering a rise in taxi fares. It actually sounds pretty okay at first glance. However, the government also requires that individual taxi cabs pay a certain additional tax ( read: fee ) so that the cabdrivers would have the legal right to be able to charge these higher fares. It didn't matter that cabdrivers would have to pay this tax only once--just count the millions of cabdrivers who have to do so in order to start charging higher fares, and you can sum up the government's take in the hundreds of millions. In other words, before the cab drivers start earning more, they would have to pay a bit more, too.

The moment I hear this, I am reminded of common street thugs who approach you and say they won't harm you unless you hand over some, just this once. Talk about bullying and extortion.

Except this time, it's those big shots in high places who are talking. Pinoy politicians always have solutions to hunger and desperation in our country, but you have to fork over more money before you can avail of them. Yep, every piece of effective legislation always requires an additional burden on the pocket. The already stiff taxes you pay aren't really enough.

Now take a look at this, the cabdriver tells me. He points to a sort of rectangular plastic ornament hanging down his windshield. It's a card that says "On-Duty" on one side and "Off-Duty" on the other. Those government officials came up with a new law instituting the obligatory placement of these cards on all taxi cabs, he tells me. It is meant to show whether a cab driver is willing to take passengers ( On-Duty ) or is on break ( Off-Duty ). It is by all intents and purposes supposed to be against the law for cabdrivers to take this ornament off its place on their windshields, or to be without it in the first place, for that matter.

Of course it goes without saying that cabdrivers have to buy these godforsaken cards first. Which means that the government earns a bit more yet again. If cabdrivers make do without buying the cards in order to be able to save at least a bit of precious money for their own, then the government is only to eager to arrest them--and fine them. Again, more money for the government.

It kind of reminds you of the way with which the Italian mafia used to extort money from storeowners--pay up or we'll take you down.

It just goes to show that the present government is all to willing to dangle all sorts of promises...for a price. Will the time come when, God forbid, we'll be turning into another Myanmar, where people were struck down with calamity and food aid would be made available to the desperate victims only after some bribes were exchanged? Truth to tell, we Pinoys may well be on the same situation even now.

Oh the horror of it all.

Should Pinoys Be More Like Pakistanis?

It was a news item on BBC Asia Today. Pakistani students who graduated from university in countries outside Pakistan are coming back to their home country to contribute to its development. Pakistani businessmen whose enterprises have flourished in other countries aside from their own are also coming back to Pakistan to establish new money-making ventures with the hope of chipping in their own share.

Why the hell are they doing this? Are they stupid? I mean, Pakistan is poor and wretched just like any Third World country. Just like the Philippines. Millions of people there live in shantytown ghettoes, just like many people in the Philippines. The majority of people there are inadequately educated, are hungry, desperate for money, and for the most part also either underemployed or simply unemployed. Just like many Pinoys in the Philippines. This is the reason why so many Pakistanis have also left their country to look for better lives and opportunities abroad. Just like millions and millions of Pinoys!

And yet, Pakistanis who have found greener pastures in other countries are going back to Pakistan. So noticeable was this mass action that it was worthy of being noticed by an international news agency. Why? It is a question that would probably make any Pinoy overseas scratch his or her head. Oh yes. Why indeed. Pinoys who make it good in other countries would never ever consider going back to the Philippines. What for?

But these Pakistanis offer a simply-stated reason. "We owe it to our country to make it better," I remember one of them saying in an interview. Those other Pakistanis interviewed in the same segment used other words and phrases, but this goal of making their otherwise poor country better was the general sentiment amongst them. Well, wouldn't you know, these people still see hope for their nation!

Then again, perhaps Pakistan does have a chance of overcoming whatever problems might be dragging it down. Who can tell? Perhaps one day in the future, we Pinoys might see "Made in Pakistan" on cellular phones, shoes, toys, clothes, television sets, or whatever, as ubiquitously as those "Made in China". Perhaps there might come a time when we Pinoys would see our grandchildren working in Pakistani-owned offices, following orders from Pakistani bosses. It might even come to the point when unfortunate Pinays forced to sell their bodies for money might even see Pakistan as a viable destination, just like how many of these same unfortunate women perceive Japan today.

If ever that time does come, there'd be no doubt that these Pakistanis who went back home for their country would have played a large part in engendering it.

We Pinoys aren't the first nation of people who have gone to other countries by the millionfold because of our unenviable station in life. Way back, long long ago, the Chinese were already settling in other territories even before Magellan had landed in the Philippines. Much later, when Columbus landed on North America, it was the turn of those from Ireland, from Poland, from Italy, and from dozens of other countries, to go to America to establish their own stake at better lives.

We Pinoys are not the first race of people who have ever tried to find jobs and successful futures in other places. We are definitely not the first race of people to be labelled as "domestic helpers". It just so happens that right now, in our present milieu, we seem to be the only race of people who do anything and everything to deny our own Pinoy-ness. We hate being simply Pinoy. A Pinoy in America has to be Fil-Am. A Pinoy in Germany has to be Fil-German. Jose Rizal, who lived in and travelled to many places, in this frame of thinking, ought to have been called Fil-Am, Fil-German, Fil-French, Fil-Swiss, or Fil-wherever else he might have gone. Strangely enough, he preferred to be simply called Pinoy. Maybe because he felt proud of it.

Is there anything wrong with Pakistanis feeling so much obligated to make their own country better after having gone abroad? Would there be anything wrong for us Pinoys to feel the same way? Those Pakistanis are motivated with an overwhelming need to bring their country back up from the morass of political corruption and widespread poverty it is mired in today. When will Pinoys who have made it big in other countries feel the same way?

What A Police Officer Taught Me

Not three nights ago I had to pay a visit to some far off police station. No, don't get any ideas. I wasn't under arrest. One of my dearest friends had fallen victim to a 25,000-peso worth theft and had requested me to drop by the police station with him. The cops had already nabbed the suspect, and the complaint had been lodged.

It was around 11 o'clock in the evening, and we strode into the dingy looking police station not having the least idea of what to do. My friend was holding two sheets of paper with print on it--his copy of the complaint. He was intending to communicate with one particular cop, the officer who had helped him file this same complaint, simply to ask whether the suspect had already posted bail or was still being held at the police station's detention cell. It was a sweltering night, and the foyer was populated with visitors like us and a sprinkling of officers in blue uniforms. My friend and I being the most recent newcomers, one of the officers approached us and asked us what we needed.

I have an uncle who used to be a cop, and I tend to think of him as my second father. Back when he was still in the force, he would sometimes take me along with him to headquarters, just for fun. I was a kid back then, and I never really took deep notice of how my uncle's fellow cops talked to visitors walking in. For the most part, however, I kind of enjoyed how police officers would often engage in rowdy behavior at headquarters--this would include feeling their egos just palpably bulge out at you with their strong, booming voices and the particular machismo in their stare, as if they were measuring you up as an opponent.

But I'm not a curious kid anymore, and my friend and I were now in unfamiliar territory, and we needed help from these cops. This particular officer who approached us asked the right questions, and yet displayed an attitude of dismissiveness, and outright roughness, as if we weren't civilians seeking help from the law but were rather unwanted reprobates. You notice the difference between asking a flight stewardess to guide you towards your seat and asking a surly security guard to allow you into a restricted area. Man, oh man, this cop wanted us off his back, as if we were bothering him in the middle of hectic work. You could tell it in his voice and his repellant stare.

Of course we generally think low of Pinoy cops. At certain times I tend to disagree with this opinion, since I've known many officers and I am very much aware of the real reasons behind their apparent--let's just say--unsaintliness. And yet, in this instance, this display of attitude was uncalled for. After all, a bit of courtesy would have certainly made a big difference.

Okay, let's just assume that the cop we were talking to was in fact simply the typical gruff fellow with the inflated ego. There are many people like this at the office, too. However, reflecting back on it later, I envisioned a scenario if foreigners came into the station, and this same officer encountered them instead of us.

Go ahead, try to imagine the situation for yourself. In all probability this otherwise crude guy would perhaps be meek, deferent, more courteous, and accommodating towards them. I've been witness to similar circumstances before, and don't tell me it doesn't happen.

It's an attitude which I myself have been guilty of in many other instances before. Quite simply, it is this--we Pinoys, proud of ourselves as being one of the most hospitable of races in the world, well...we treat foreigners differently. We treat them better than we would treat a fellow Filipino.

Okay, I admit, this is not the kind of insight one would normally derive from an experience like the one my friend and I had with that erring cop. Quite usually you, as a Pinoy having dealt with cops, too, would pronounce this one officer a bad egg, and would say "off to the frying pan with him!". And that would be the end of that.

Then again, maybe such a swishing dismissal of the matter would not cover all significant angles. True, it could be said that the situation might merely reflect a failure of that cop to follow very basic rules of politeness and courtesy. And yet, how glaringly apparent it is that most of us Pinoys somehow share the same fault too, and commit it the most often, when interacting with fellow countrymen. I mean, of course, this was a Pinoy cop with crude manners. But, I repeat, would he have been as asinine if it were a foreigner he was addressing?

Admit it. We Pinoys are aware of and a witness to this dichotomy in our attitude towards other people all the time. We treat foreigners kinder than we do fellow Pinoys. We give them more slack, so to speak. Say you put an American maid in front of you and a Filipina maid side by side. We would refer to the American as a "maid" and the Filipina as "longkatut". We would probably never see them on the same plane, with the same essential humanity. Would you refer to an American maid as an American "longkatut"? Many Korean factory workers tour around our country. They work the same hours and punishing tasks as Filipino factory workers. And yet, we have this perception that Filipino factory workers are...well, factory workers. Korean factory workers are "tourists". But look beyond the flashy cameras and baggage all those Korean tourists bring with them, and what is left is quite simply...a group of factory workers.

Now, imagine yourself a Pinoy in Saudi Arabia, or in New York, going to a police station over there to report yourself as a victim of a crime. Do you think that cops over there will treat their fellow countrymen with disdain, and then leave them behind to attend to you? Will the cops over there prioritize you? I would think not. I think it would be more apparent that they would treat everybody with the same deference and cordiality, if the situation were ideal. If the situation were less than ideal, then most probably it would be the Pinoy who would suffer the indignity of being rudely addressed to. I hope it doesn't happen often.

I am not saying that Pinoys should be rude to foreigners. I am simply of the mind that, if we treat foreign visitors delicately and with care, what is it that keeps us from treating each other in the same way? Hasn't it been said that the Japanese are one of the most polite people in the world? Would they reserve that politeness only to foreigners? Don't they treat fellow Japanese the same way? Even better, at some instances?

Maybe it's harder for us Pinoys to elevate our fellow countrymen to the same status we give foreigners because it is so imbedded in our own culture the attitude of self-deprecation. It is as if we have this instinctive trait of always perceiving fellow Pinoys as persons less deserving of our best efforts at social graces. This only brings to light an even deeper, and more frightening, implication--that we in fact think that the Pinoy is a lesser form of human.

My oh my. The things that a police officer taught me. I hope it's something all of us should think about.

Between The Sinking of a Ship and The Rise of Two Victorious Fists

Within the space of less than two weeks, we Filipinos have found ourselves caught between a starkly unimaginable polarity of emotions.

On the one hand, the recent visit of typhoon Frank thrashed and pummeled whole countrysides, leading to large-scale loss of life and property. Most horrible of all, it was the direct cause of the sinking of what in historical record was the largest inter-island seafaring vessel operating for Filipino passengers, the M/V Princess of the Stars. This tragedy of overwhelming proportions rang a death toll running into the hundreds.

On the other hand, the exemplary Pinoy athlete Manny Pacquiao has just captured yet another world championship title in boxing, marking out a milestone in the history of the sport in that he now stands as the first Asian to hold four championship belts in four different weight divisions. This is no small feat, and the achievement has already reaped the huge attention, accolade, and celebration it deserves from boxing critics and fans all around the world. It need not be explained how Manny Pacquiao has once again ignited passion and pride among all Pinoys because of this, so much so that everybody could feel the palpable jubilation in the streets. Go, Manny, go!

In less than two weeks, Pinoys were besieged by a turbulent wave of grieving and desparation, only to later on find ourselves lifted upward by a surge of victory. One can easily be reminded of the unexpected twists and turns of a hair-raising roller coaster ride. Or the swinging of a pendulum, with horror at one end of the amplitude, and rejoicing at the other.

I cannot help but join the chorus of voices extolling the thunderous victory of one of my fellow countrymen in a sport that has captured and inflamed the sentiments of all Pinoys like me. The particular instance in which he struck the final blow on his opponent seemed to be etched in time--one single tick of the clock when all Filipinos saw one of their own finally taking down an Enemy, an Adversary which encapsulated in itself all the terror and malady of the previous days. When Pacquiao's opponent fell like a ton of bricks on the canvass, a huge release of breath could almost be heard all throughout the country. We have just been through terrible tragedy, yes, but one single punch has proclaimed that we have emerged through it victorious, too.

Pinoys have always been the resilient lot. We have been through all sorts of desperate times and unimaginable loss, and yet even after the worst of calamities we seem to be able to whittle off the last of its vestiges much like dusting ourselves off after a slight stumble. It may take less than two weeks--in this case, it took only one final punch.

Being a Pinoy myself, I see this as a desperate yearning for good news--any good news--that could reassure the heart in the middle of a multitude of crises afflicting each Pinoy. The bad news is depressingly widespread enough--continually rising cost of living brought about by record levels of inflation, hunger and military conflict in the south of the country, flagrant corruption in high places in government, and most recently a calamitous typhoon, on top of everything. A Manny Pacquiao victory still remains to be the one good thing we would readily bandy about with proud smiles to all people around the world. We Pinoys know deep inside ourselves that every other race seems to look down on us, but, hey, we have a world champion fourfold! Who can top that?

Still, in spite of the undeniable praiseworthiness of us Pinoys to vent all sorts of merrymaking and cheers to what Pacquiao has carved out for himself as well as for all of us, it still makes sense to keep our sense of proportion in order. His victory, however towering and larger-than-life it might have been, is in its deepest essence that of only one man. A whole multitude of Pinoys, in fact, face collective challenges which are themselves also towering and larger-than-life, and which also cry for each one of us to prevail over. There has always been this danger that we Pinoys would hang on to Pacquiao's stellar achievement to such an overbearing degree that its memory would overshadow the ever-present need for every one of us to be a warrior ourselves against our collective problems. Pacquiao's job was to fight his Mexican opponent, and he did it rather exceedingly well. Now it's our turn to face our own adversaries. And the very first we would have to tangle with is ourselves--after all, we have a whole country to rehabilitate, what with the typhoon having hit us, and our desperate population still among the poorest in the world, among other things. Plenty of changes need to be started. There are obligations to be performed scrupulously. Pacquiao's finishing blow should not be an end in itself. It should serve as a new beginning, an inspiration for every Pinoy to get up and accomplish what should get done.

I would prefer that the government lead the way. Things like this should never have to be said, and yet it seems that in performance and example, the government could be likened to a poorly-trained and mediocre boxer, always on the losing end of a fight. How I wish our government could be more of Pacquiao's caliber, an excellent fighter who could wage war against social ills and injustices, a fighter dedicating its effort to all Pinoys. Sadly enough, the typical Pinoy is given this responsibility and burden to shoulder, and could expect no amount of help from the bureaucracy. Only time would tell whether it could reform itself.

Still, I nurture a hope that Pinoys finally come to their senses and see the true meaning of Pacquiao's daring efforts to overcome each and every one of his opponents. I have this hope that Pinoys inspire each other and struggle to become world-class warriors in whatever they are involved with, whether you are in government, in another country, or staying here at home. Between the sinking of a ship and the raising of all our victorious fists, I hope we could collect ourselves and make the pendulum swing to the side better for all of us, all the time.

The Saddest Day in The History of Philippine Movies

Most of us didn't really see it coming, and yet slowly, inexorably, the decline came as quietly as the setting of the sun.

It used to be that General Motors sold the most number of cars and car parts in the world. When the American public and the world population in general reversed their habits and bought less and less of General Motors products, the company's revenues sank so low that they had to lay off thousands of workers. These unfortunate workers must have dedicated so much of their lives to their craft and livelihood, and yet, in exchange for years--maybe even decades of service, it became their lot to be rewarded with the loss of their jobs. A host of various factors brought this about, factors which may be both within and outside the control of these workers. But the fact remains that the end result was not desirable, and perhaps even incomprehensible to those very workers.

The same thing has happened to the Philippine movie industry. Where once the Industry managed to produce around 100 movie titles per year, the number has drastically been dwindling as we move closer to the end of the decade. At present, the Filipino moviegoing public can expect only around 40 or so new titles this year, less than half of the previous yearly average.

If you liken this situation to what has happened to General Motors, it simply means that the Industry has been making less, and by necessity has to shed a whole lot of its workforce. Say that, hypothetically, around 50 workers at an average work on one film. That would total to about 5, 000 workers for 100 films ( usually the number of workers per film reaches beyond the 50 mark ). Now, slash the number of films to 40, and you easily see 3, 000 people without jobs. You can imagine a hundred people lined up a city block doing nothing all day. How about 3,000 of them? They would probably fill, oh, about six city blocks.

Which could only mean that the Philippine movie industry as a whole earns a lot less than it did before. Because of this, it wouldn't have enough financial strength to compensate its workers. And with less workers, how can movie producers make more films?

I have worked in the Philippine movie industry myself for over 10 years, and am a personal witness to the steady decline of the Industry. I have seen how so many colleagues of mine have lost their jobs, simply because local movie producers have been making less movies. It saddens me to see them--movie directors, film editors, screenwriters, movie actors--co-workers in the film industry who have dedicated whole lifetimes to their work ( or as some of them would prefer to describe it, their passion ), now left with too little or nothing to do, drifting away like ashes from a dying ember.

The Industry hasn't always been in such a sorry state as this. It was not too long ago when one or two, even three Filipino movies would be showing at the cineplexes for every week of the year, side-by-side with American films. And, like their American counterparts, local films back then did enjoy a considerable amount of patronage. At some indistinguishable point, however, it was slowly becoming apparent that Filipino moviegoers were beginning to avoid local films at the moviehouses, and instead were flocking in droves to Hollywood blockbusters.

The simple explanation for this would be that Filipino moviegoers just got fed up with the sub par quality of local films as compared to that of Hollywood movies. American films have better picture quality and better sound. American movies have better stories. Filipino-made movies simply haven't ever reached the same level of technical and creative excellence. There was a time when we didn't care at all about this difference in quality, but that time is past. Today, in our age of 5.1 digital dolby surround sound, in this age of spectacular technological innovations in filmmaking, Hollywood movies reign supreme and local movies are being left behind.

There had been a time when this difference in quality didn't really matter, because admission prices were more affordable, whether you were going to a Filipino or American movie. However, ticket prices at the box office have been recently skyrocketing. When you choose between two products which have the same forbidding price tag, you normally and logically patronize the better product. In the contest between Hollywood movie wizardry versus the mostly lackadaisical and unspectacular Filipino films, the winner would be very much obvious enough.

Filipino moviegoers readily place the blame on local film workers, who are perceived as unqualified and incapable of matching the abilities of filmmakers in Hollywood.

This finger-pointing, however, is not the exclusive domain of the audience. Filipino film workers themselves decry the fact that local movie producers, or financiers, have never at all allocated the proper budget for their projects. From my personal experience, local film workers have always been yearning to deliver movies to the Filipino audience that would satisfy the demand for Hollywood quality. That yearning remains unfulfilled. Top-notch quality filmmaking, as defined by Hollywood standards, requires top-notch funding in the first place. Local movie producers simply cannot and will never ever allow this. And why so? Hollywood blockbusters have the backing of millions of U.S. dollars as production budgets. Even 100 million Philippine pesos is but a paltry sum compared to that.

Still, the complaint about local movies' scant production budgets is not new. It is, in fact, a perpetual complaint. Local film workers have been struggling with this situation for generations. In trying to break free from this quandary, there has grown a perception among film workers--and even among Filipino audiences themselves--that a more creative utilization of the budget and resources in the making of a Filipino movie would be the workaround to restrictive financial backing. In other words, local filmmakers have to make do with what little money they have, but must find innovative methods which would lift up local movies to the standard of Hollywood. This is easier said than done, because innovations in the filmmaking process require a whole lot of time to plan and execute. Most of the time, local film workers are expected to produce movies within two months, from scriptwriting to shooting to screening. Timetables this tight could never make room for any departures from filmmaking habits, much less any groundbreaking eurekas. No, the only way to deliver movies this fast to the audience is to stick to time-honored Filipino filmmaking techniques, never mind if the technology is advancing. Local movie workers know by heart that, by going this route, the movie won't measure up to what Hollywood gives us. Whenever the local producers shell out the millions, they expect to earn it back fast.

In stark contrast to this, Hollywood has the luxury of stretching its production schedules. The Spiderman franchise, for example, has shown three sequels so far. Each sequel, from script to screen, would cover two years of production. They could never make Spiderman franchise that good if the filmmakers were given two months to execute each one.

So, taking the cue from these conditions, it can be safely concluded that local film workers are hampered by 1) the lack of adequate capital infusion from local movie producers, and 2) mismanagement of timetables. The question then arises whether local movie workers could produce a movie as smooth and sleek as a Hollywood production if they were given the adequate budget and the proper length of time in which to deliver it to the audience. The answer would be a resounding yes! After working in the Philippine industry for so long a time, I could proclaim that Filipinos are not lacking in talent and artistry when it comes to making grade-A films. However, could a situation this ideal ever come to fruition? Off the top of my head, I can only say, "Not in the immediate future". Local movie producers quite simply can't afford bigger budgets, and won't give in to demands that production schedules be stretched. No, the only way this could happen is if some bigshot rich foreigner would risk the opportunity of co-producing a Filipino movie. That would seem to be quite a stretch of the imagination, of course, but then again, maybe there's no reason not to hope for it.

In the meantime, the Industry's downward trend continues. If it's any consolation, there is still to be found among local movie producers one particular studio which is very much able to churn out at least 10 movie titles per year. That studio is so far the most resilient, and it is refreshing to know that their earnings have been buoyed by a rather enthusiastic audience patronage. However, ten films a year is a far cry from the previous number of titles which other studios like them used to make. In the past, rival studios could each successfully deliver 20 or more movies per year. In this regard, it could be said that this particular studio has achieved something enviable today, but falls far short of what it could be achieving.

One cannot also deny the prevalence of many other circumstances which are eroding the health of the Industry. Movie piracy has become so rampant. The Philippine government's censorship body has so fervently pursued a moral stand so prudish and Victorian, to say the least, that it chokes any chance at all for movie producers to reach out to more mature audiences. Local moviemaking is now a domain very narrowly confined by stiff Hollywood competition, the dangers of hefty revenue loss through piracy, and the ever-absurd dogmatism of censorship.

Plenty of what if questions come to mind. What if cineplexes decide to drastically reduce ticket prices? What if local movies were spared from piracy? What if the government censorship body were abolished? There is also that one more frightening question: Do we really care if the Industry survives or not?

After all, we have already entered the 21st century, and it may be that Philippines movies don't hold the same special place in our society anymore. Plenty of other leisure activities are emerging which are taking the audiences away from the moviehouses. There is the fairly new craze over internet cafes, for instance, and it is all too easy to understand why these centers of gaming and net surfing are sprouting up like mushrooms everywhere, to the point that they are multiplying faster than new moviehouses are being built. Spending two hours in these boutiques is way cheaper than watching a movie. There is an added attraction, too, in that the internet is untrammeled by any form of moral censorship. Cable television is also making it easier to stay away from the moviehouses. Who needs to see the film at the cineplex today when you can simply bide your time and just wait when it appears on television?

One can easily imagine a possible point in the future when the last Filipino movie is produced, after which there will never be any other. That would have to be the saddest day in the history of Philippine movies. It might not have really arrived yet, but is it just around the corner?