Michael Mirasol - The Flipcritic

BLACK NARCISSUS (****)

2010-03-05T13:42:04Z

This review was posted on Roger Ebert's Foreign Correspondents page.

Post World War II British Cinema was one of the richest periods in film history. Finally free from budget and stylistic constraints saddled during wartime, some of the greatest filmmaking talent the filmdom had arisen. John and Roy Boulting, David Lean, Laurence Olivier, and Carol Reed were just a few of the notables whose directorial prowess had struck the scene. But a pair which was the period's most prolific was Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger; The Archers.

Their imprint on British Cinema is almost without peer, and their influence on filmmakers around the world is felt even today, inspiring such directors as George Romero, Francis Ford Coppola, and Martin Scorsese. Though both Powell and Pressburger were credited with the direction of their films, it was Powell who was truly at the helm. In his later years, he and Scorsese became quite close, with Scorsese becoming his most ardent enthusiast and eventual protégé (It was Powell who advised Scorsese why RAGING BULL ought to be in Black & White).

Swiss film historian Fredrik Gustafsson describes Powell's work in post-WW2 as having a quality of "extravagant dreamlike passion." One such example is their 1947 production of BLACK NARCISSUS, a movie which propelled Deborah Kerr to stardom and featured a burgeoning Jean Simmons. Watching it for the first time made me understand the techniques and inspirations imprinted in many of Scorsese's own masterpieces.

The film tells the story of a group of Anglican nuns who assigned to a remote palace near the Himalayas. Once there, they are tasked to form a school and hospital to develop and convert the indigenous Indian township. The group is headed by Sister Clodagh (Deborah Kerr), the youngest Sister Superior of her order. There, she is to work with the handsome local British agent named Dean (David Farrar), who has lived with the locals for some time and is skeptical of any efforts to 'modernize' them. Dean's charms seem to have some effect on Sister Clodagh, but they also ignite the buried passions of Sister Ruth (Kathleen Byron) who becomes increasingly jealous of her superior.

This emotional conflict is one of many that eats away at nearly all of the film's characters. Clodagh's relationship with Dean reminds her of her ill-fated longings for a former friend. Ruth, who was emotionally disturbed even before joining the expedition seems to become completely unhinged once Dean shows her an act of kindness which she might have been seeking for so long. And Dean himself, a charming cynic who has seen-it-all, appears to surprise himself with how much he grows to care and admire Sister Clodagh's resolve, however misplaced it may be.

The other nuns aren't free of doubt. Local practices and beliefs undermine their deeds. Acts of compassion are misinterpreted and distrusted. Goals aren't met and pressures grow. Their inner turmoil is exacerbated by extreme conditions and isolation. The world seems against them all, symbolized by a budding seduction: a vain young General(Sabu) eager to learn the "learned" Christian ways, tempted by the lower caste beauty Kanchi (Jean Simmons). It's holiness against the libido, civility against the wild, control vs. desire.

This burning, fervent, internal strife, builds continuously towards the film's almost gothic climax. To see the film progress from cold and indifferent to brooding and almost supernatural shows Powell's mastery of tone. He depicts the nuns' mountain enclave as an ashen and distant; colorless as the sisterhood's singular devotion to their vocation. The local Indian populace is backdropped with vibrant color, looking more natural and lively. But it is in the second half of the film where Powell's use of Technicolor is stunning. The introduction of the more vibrant hues dominate the film. The use of red is feverish and is as effective and foreboding as Nicholas Roeg's DON'T LOOK NOW. Even the absence of color and use of shadows serves a purpose that would make any horror movie lover proud, once Sister Clodagh and Sister Ruth have their final face-off.

It is Clodagh and Ruth who come to embody the film's mesmerizing conflict, becoming mirror images; extremes of human nature. Powell uses close-ups of both players to reveal Clodagh's uncertainty and Ruth's blind wantonness. Many have noted Kathleen Byron's portrayal of Ruth as over the top, but it never seems out of line with the film's mood, perhaps because her hostility feel right in sync with that of her environment's. The story's feel is remarkably consistent if not completely realistic.

These traits are the very essence of many of Martin Scorsese's masterpieces: the emotional if not physical violence which drives his characters to do what they do. To see them in Michael Powell's work provides a moment of clarity. Film critic Dave Kehr suggests that BLACK NARCISSUS should be taken with the historical context of Britain bidding farewell to their fading empire, and indeed that is an interesting point of view. But I like to view it as a film ahead of its time, daring enough to look puritanical figures that are in truth as frail as anyone; confronting their demons and the burdens of reality. It has all of the three central conflicts every story should have, man against the world, man against man, and man against himself.

P.S. The film's title comes from a British perfume which the young General uses. It's scent taken from a flower, named after a Greek mythological youth of the same name, who died of his own vanity.

Why wasn't PONYO nominated?

2010-02-09T02:22:07Z

I question why PONYO wasn't nominated at Roger Ebert's foreign correspondents page, you can read my written review there. My video review (also on that page) is as follows:

Revisiting STRANGE DAYS

2010-01-21T23:36:09Z

My Kathryn Bigelow Retrospective of STRANGE DAYS is up at Roger Ebert's foreign correspondents page. You can read my full review there. My video review (also on that page) is as follows:

CACHE's Smoking Gun

2010-01-16T23:38:09Z

Roger Ebert just added the French Film CACHE (2005) to his Great Movies section. And in it, Roger thinks he's found the smoking gun as to who was sending the mysterious videos. Here's my take on it.

Warning! Spoilers abound!

On IMDB forums, there has been much discussion on the shot that Roger mentions in his review, specified at 20:39 of the DVD. Some people have been focusing on this shot.

I've studied this shot over and over and can find no discernable aspect that seemed revelatory. Even the side mirror from Pierrot's side doesn't reveal anything upon closeup. Nothing is revealed from his bag. But take note that Georges's car is right at the spot where the film's initial recording shot is made. So the clue lies here.

Now note the time (20:37). This is not the shot which Roger is talking about. If we move 2 seconds further into the film...

In this shot where Georges's guest is recalling a story, you can see that part of his narration is the film's clue. There's only one mirror at the far end of the screen in the first shot. And that is on Pierrot's side.

The film's very subtitles tell us that Pierrot is the one who was sending the videos.

Addendum:

I just spoke with a friend who mentions that the scene in question might be this one:

As Roger states in his review, the film's completely "still" shots are the objective ones, while the ones that move (including the ones in "rewind" mode) are subjective. This one (we'll call shot #3), though this seems to belong to the former, I'm inclined to believe belongs to the latter, as it specifically refers to the spot where Georges's house is being recorded (the film's opening shot). It has to be a POV, but from who's?

The film tricks us (as it did me) with the succeeding shot of a boy with a bleeding mouth. If you watch carefully, the camera pans across the room to the bleeding boy by the window. This is not Georges's adult home, it's from his childhood home. The living room in this sequence is the same as the same sequence later in the film where Georges is leaving his mother's house. The boy I believe is Majid, from Georges's childhood memories.

Think about it. Shot #3 I believe is from Pierrot's POV, looking at the spot where he can record his videos. The shot involving the bleeding boy reveals why Georges must have wanted Majid to be taken away. As a boy, he must have discovered Majid bleeding, and being young, did not understand what his condition meant, leading to the film's disturbing revelations.

One thing that is clear about this movie, is that Haneke has complete understanding about how film narrative works and how ingrained audiences have become in its expectations of it. What an incredibly layered mystery this film is.

Teddy Pendergrass, Rest in Peace

2010-01-14T11:04:29Z

Growing up in the 80s in the Philippines, way before the MTV age had hit us, TV channels like IBC-13 and GMA-7 would show music videos in the morning (around 6am) as filler to start the day. Filipinos are the most sentimental of South East Asians. When it comes to love songs, we love 'em mellow and worn on a sleeve.

I first encountered Teddy Pendergrass with his video 'In My Time'. I had no idea what he meant to American culture back then, as it was slowly seeping into me. But his video was one of the most memorable to me. While everybody was singing about loneliness and passion, this song evoked a strong reminiscence and loving gratitude. And when it finally showed him in his wheelchair, it etched itself into memory.

I re-discovered Teddy later on in my 60s-70s R&B phase. If Marvin Gaye was the silk of romance, Teddy Pendergrass was its velvet. And that's what many will remember him for, being R. Kelly before R. Kelly. I recall Eddie Murphy's joke about his sexy ferociousness, "He would scare the bitches into liking him!"

But I will remember that loving and heartbreaking video of Teddy looking back at his life, even more so now. God bless you Teddy.

Teddy Pendergrass - In My Time
Uploaded by chilavert. - Music videos, artist interviews, concerts and more.

Why I care about Malaysia

2010-01-10T16:27:07Z

Before I started my stint in Saudi Arabia, I had lived and worked in Malaysia for 4 years as an I.T. Consultant. When I first arrived there, I didn't make too much of it at first. I had just gotten married for a little less than a year, with the intention to save up my family life later on.

After 3 months, my wife came to visit me. The company I was working for was willing to hire her since she had skill-sets which suited them. We had our first child here, and in that time, Malaysia had transformed from a strange place to a comfortable home.

Malaysia is a wonderful country. It's not as cosmopolitan or flashy as New York, not as sprawling as Los Angeles, and not as urban as Singapore, and not as vibrant or bustling as Manila. But it has a very distinct Asian character, a laid back melting pot where everyone seems welcome (and where the food is great!). Malaysians aren't very outgoing or demonstrative, but they aren't judgmental or cynical. Some foreigners find them plain, I find them pleasant.

My first experiences with Malaysians were when I was studying in Australia. During University life, I stayed in a dorm filled with Malaysians, and they welcomed me with open arms, which was so reassuring since I was the only Filipino there at that time. They spoke in English whenever I was around and never teased me behind my back (as far as I could tell). They would invite me out and have my back if things got nasty. They were my Asian family away from family.

I could feel this acceptance and multiculturalism during my working days. The country is comprised of three major groups, the Malays (the Muslim majority), the Chinese, and the Indians. Any foreigner visiting for the first time will always note how remarkable the country seems to be with all of these people truly living side by side without much fuss. I go to Malay restaurants and see everybody, even Westerners eating by hand. I eat at Curry houses and see Chinese ordering enthusiastically. I go to Chinese markets and see Indians among the first there. There were no cliques (at least where I went). Everybody did seem to get along.

Now of course not everything is perfect. Many non-Malaysians do not know of the May 13 incident and its resulting laws which enforce affirmative action policies that favor the Malay majority. I have many Malay and non-Malay friends who have criticized this issue, citing that it is the source of friction against the government which is still overwhelmingly Malay (though not as much as before). I really can't cite any form of discrimination that I've seen against anybody in Malaysia, but again, I haven't lived here long enough. Plus I am an expatriate, and the government encourages foreign workers to come and help build the economy, as long as times are good. From the minority's standpoint, Malays and foreigners get special treatment because of these policies, and it really is unfair.

But this inequality hasn't caused any major disruption in the Malaysian way of life, unless you count the complacency in government. The last major elections held here resulted in major losses for Barisan Nasional (BN), the country's largest political coalition, which is dominated mostly by the United Malays National Organization (UMNO). From more than 80%, its constituency has shrunk to between 60%-65%, giving the opposition more power in opposing legislation the Malay government wishes to implement.

With the latest furor in Malaysia now, against complaints of using the word 'Allah' by a Catholic newspaper, and accusations of trying to convert muslims by confusing them, I find it absolutely heartbreaking to see this rending of cultural and religious harmony. The use of 'Allah' has been used by Christians in Malaysia for over half a century, and now it's an issue? Conversion from Islam is considered an insult to the religion, a criminal offense in several states, and gravely looked down upon. From what I've known, it very rarely happens. If people for more than 50 years have known about the gravity of conversions, how could they be possibly confused over this word now as compared to back then?

Everybody who has lived in Malaysia knows that this is being done for political gains (it's been done in every country where religion is culturally ingrained). The majority has to hold on tight to whoever they can. That's why Anwar Ibrahim, the charismatic, outspoken, and Western leaning opposition leader, is in the trouble he's in (but that's another story). I never thought I'd see the day where Malay extremists would start burning churches, an image unimaginable during my stay.

I am an agnostic. I believe in God but not in religion. But that doesn't mean I don't believe in the essence of Malaysia. It is still a rarity in South East Asia, how it can accept others. It mustn't accept this.

A Filipino 'Rotten Tomatoes' is long overdue

2010-01-07T14:19:40Z

Several years ago, when I started contributing reviews for the Manila Times, I thought of starting a Philippine version of Rotten Tomatoes, that famed movie review aggregation site. I bought a domain and tried to map out how to get it done.

Through my editor (Dennis Ladaw), I had gotten in touch with several film critics from established broadsheets (e.g. Malaya, Manila Standard, Manila Bulletin, etc.) trying to establish relationships, with the intent of having their views eventually shared on that website. I had no idea of what considerations to take, especially in dealing with major newspapers. But because of budget restraints at the Times, I lost the opportunity to further this enterprise and my writing.

Things have changed since then. Any serious Filipino movie lover knows that the best film critique doesn't lie in broadsheets anymore. There have been several wonderful film blogs/sites which have enlightened those who have found them, that dwarf most (if not all) discourse from the dailies. Some eloquent examples are Francis 'Oggs' Cruz, Noel Vera, Eboy Donato, the fellows at Pelikula Tumblr and Criticine, and many many others. The decline in the balanced substance of newspaper reviews is sad but understandable, since most of them (like The Inquirer) are owned by the same conglomerates that are involved in the entertainment industry, not to mention rife with debilitating internal politics, not limited to the Entertainment section.

The amount of bribery in printed film reviews is astounding. Many (not all) of the film critics I knew back then were inclined to give favorable reviews. If they didn't "mail them in," film studios would no longer give them free invites to major local releases (heck, even the US releases which local film distributors were handling), along with other perks. As I've said before, film journalism in the Philippines is not something that will feed your family, so anything that helps cut costs, or creates networking access, is something film journalists will take just to survive.

For all the fellow Filipino film bloggers out there: We keep on complaining about the quality churned out by our film studios, decrying the lack and hypocrisy of coverage when it comes our independent scene. We need to stop bitching and do something about it.

So I propose this: to setup an aggregate film review website to make our thoughts known on particular films. That way, we can do something no daily can do. If we were able to reach each other through our writings on the web, doing this will reach others who are hungry for something better (I can help with the technical setup). Let's do it for Alexis Tioseco, whose love for movies went without question. Get the ball rolling and see how it goes!

Now. What do we call it?

WALL-E: The best film of the last decade

2010-01-06T15:19:52Z

Note: I wrote this before I made my WALL-E video review. Most of you who have seen it may notice some of the overlap. I've posted this for those who feel I should elaborate further on why I think this film is the best of the last decade. I hope this is helpful.

Ever since I first saw 2001: A Space Odyssey, films that dwell on man and his place in the universe, are of great importance to me. I've always admired films that dealt with the human condition, but Stanley Kubrick's science fiction masterpiece, made me realize how insignificant human matters are in the face of creation. Dr. Manhattan describes it best in WATCHMEN, "... the existence of life is a highly overrated phenomenon."

Yet here we are, trying to survive in a speck of a solar system, with only a few who are aware of our inconsequence. It's those people who ask, will we continue to move on, and become more conscious of reality's workings? Will our creations, which are now beginning to achieve the first semblances or representations of human logic, further us or outlive us? These are questions that fascinate me most.

The noughties were a decade that seemed to focus on our decline. War, terrorism, environmental degradation, oppressive governance, and economic decline seemed to define the first 10 years of the 21st century, hardly close to what we were thinking of when the word 'future' was mentioned a few decades ago. This regression in human progress, has resulted in the focus of human regression in film. Vengeance was a major theme. Comedies which focused on male arrested development flourished, while those that dealt with women were further pushed into the background. And every so often a documentary would come out showing the consequences of man's dismissiveness towards his environment.

There were of course exceptions to the rule, but none more exceptional than WALL-E; a film marketed as a cute children's film, but with ambitions that couldn't have been more ground-breaking. It has a generosity and spirit that is rarely found among its contemporaries. It is futuristic, but relies on a classical style of filmmaking. Its prime characters are completely artificial, yet they achieve an emotional purity that New York Times film critic A.O. Scott perfectly describes as "Chaplinesque." It criticizes our mass consumerism, without telegraphing emotions, being cynical, or lecturing. And it stares fearlessly into the abyss of our near extinction, but leaves us feeling awash in powerful emotions of sweetness, warmth, and most importantly hope. It is one of the great cinematic achievements.

One of the film's obvious assets is its incredible use of special effects. The lighting, texture, and depth evident in the film's first few scenes of an abandoned city are breathtaking and strikingly realistic, thanks to famed cinematographers Roger Deakins (favorite of the Coen Brothers) and Dennis Muren (a collaborator of George Lucas, James Cameron, and Steven Spielberg). The level of detail is overwhelming but its display is restrained and disciplined. Different story locales aren't just shiny colorful new places as other animated films would practice. Each setting has a distinctive feel.

Notice the depth of the deserted empty streets, colored in different shades of yellow and brown, only to show the distinctiveness of a plant Wall-e discovers for the first time. The shipyard where Wall-e and Eve introduce each other, which feels inhospitable, rusty and radioactive. Wall-e's home which has an affectionate Christmas-like decorative feel. The light, breezy atmosphere within the Axiom which seems to be perpetually clean, but not clinical. With this level of technical mastery, one could even argue that WALL-E was the best CGI film of its kind before AVATAR came along.

For a film set in the future, the film is a loving celebration of things past. It uses film clips from the 1969 musical "Hello Dolly!" Though considered a passable film by most, WALL-E uses it to touching effect. Through Dolly's songs and images, Wall-e realizes his solitary existence, and learns a very innocent notion of love. The film also uses Louis Armstrong's rendition of La Vie en Rose and an 80s pop-themed score to lovingly lens Wall-e's attempts to woo Eve.

In terms of style, pretty much the entire portion of the film where WALL-E is on screen could be treated as a silent film. Its filmmakers were required to watch Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin clips (and a little bit of Harry Lloyd) everyday for almost a year during film production. One can credit this mastery of body language to those films of old, but it's another thing entirely to translate narrative and human emotions to what are technically mechanical and electronic objects.

How would you make a trash compactor cute, nervous, or startled? Let alone curious, plucky, innocent and hopelessly in love? How would you make a shiny Apple-like egg-shaped robot seem excitable, irritable, brave, and sweetly amused? Wall-e and Eve have no lower limbs, no elbows, no mouths, no eyebrows to communicate what the story needs to say, and yet the film expresses their traits and feelings, effortlessly. Pixar seems to be saying you only need the eyes, maybe just one if you count MONSTERS, INC.

And when it comes to the embodiment of human qualities, their portrayal here achieves a basic yet powerful emotional integrity. How strangely wonderful that two machines, one a rust-bucket with tank treads for feet and binoculars for eyes, the other as shiny slick as an iPod, would convey such unique personalities, such unforced, unaffected nobility, and feel so perfect for each other. I can't tell you how amazed I was when I was praying for Eve to revive Wall-e after a seemingly hopeless situation. And even more amazed by how I was moved to tears when the final love song was played, seeing both of them finally hold hands. Despite WALL-E's obvious themes of ecological destruction and mass consumerism, its distinguishing human characteristics allow it to be one of the sweetest love stories of the past few years.

What I found even more poignant was Wall-e's apparent fascination with the remnants of humanity's creations. He collects different objects and devices, puzzled by their functions and purpose. Whether or not he is aware that he himself is a product of human ingenuity, it is touching nonetheless to know that he values what we have created, since we ourselves have lost sight of what we have achieved, how far we've come, and what potentials we still have unrealized.

The film also has moments of stylistic brilliance worth mentioning. It's opening sequence of the vast majesty of space, played alongside Michael's Crawford's "Put on Your Sunday Clothes" inspires a sense of discovery and wonder. And yet when panning to the bleak and filthy desolation of Earth filled with skyscrapers of trash and smoggy mists, the film seems to say, "What a waste we've made, and what a waste we have been." Its moments were Wall-e touches the rings of Saturn, or his "flight dance" with Eve outside the Axiom, provides that rare combination of beauty and emotional satisfaction. The film's musical score, composed by the always excellent Thomas Newman, is alive, distinctive and expressive, providing a sense of futuristic naivete and wonderment. And the film's end credits, with an inspiring Peter Gabriel, are exquisite, presenting man's future history, working to restore what he destroyed with the help of his sentient creations, all told through Paleolithic, Impressionist, and Video game art styles. It's final image of Wall-e and Eve looking at a shoe-grown tree, speaks on so many levels as to what man can do.

How Andrew Stanton, director of FINDING NEMO (probably the first great CGI animated film of the 21st century) brought all of this together, is nothing short of a miracle. His work here is one of the great feats of film direction.

WALL-E is by no means a perfect movie. At times it becomes too cute and indulgent. But it earns the right to do so, because of how it tells its story, and by how much it cares for its characters. And besides, once you've seen its indulgences, what indulgences they are! I've heard of complaints of scientific accuracy and boredom in the film's first hour. Of the former I can say that some liberties have to be taken at the expense of realism to tell a more effective story (sometimes it works and sometimes not). As for the latter, that worries me. Since the advent of sound in film, many filmmakers tend to rely too much on dialogue for exposition. If audiences do not know how what his happening or cannot hold attention in a movie because nothing is being told to them, then we are losing part of our humanity.

Humanity. You see that word a lot in this review. Even though the film doesn't involve people per se, it has nothing else on its mind. There are other great films that show what we are losing, such as A.I., AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH, CHILDREN OF MEN. But WALL-E, perhaps because of animation's very nature of being able to filter through the very basics of human characteristics and emotion, manages to enhance the significance of our very end. Imagine that. Two human creations, through their own awareness, use the best of human traits, such as bravery, love, and commitment, to save us from ourselves.

When Stanley Kubrick gave his story A.I. for Steven Spielberg to direct. Perhaps he felt there was hope for us yet. Maybe he didn't know how to portray it in a humane sensibility the way Spielberg skillfully does. What I felt Kubrick was implying in that film was that humans won't make it, but our creations will carry the best of humanity forward, somehow being a more perfect blend of intellect and emotion.

A.I. and WALL-E both involve robots living in a world where man has left the Earth. The former was about the end of man and what comes next. WALL-E is more hopeful saying, we'll be here, and we'll see what comes next.

With that I leave the film's final lyrics. Though they sing about love, because of Wall-E's and Eve's exploits, they turn into something else, as WALL-E ends with final images of a devastated Earth finally growing vegetation, with a returned human race, and the great unknown that lies ahead.

And that is all, that love's about

And we'll recall, when time runs out

That it only, took a moment

To be loved, a whole life long

Do we give a damn about firecracker injuries?

2010-01-02T05:32:21Z

Is the Philippines the last country in the world which gives a damn about New Year firecracker injuries?

I was pondering this when I came upon a report in the New York Times about New Year celebrations in Times Square and around the world. When it came to reporting injuries, the Philippines was the only nation mentioned. Surely there could have been others.

Then I entered the two words "firecracker" and "injuries" at Google News. Try it out, we're pretty much the only country other than a small region in Indonesia with a high turnout of people getting maimed.

I understand the tradition behind it, involving the Chinese belief that it drives bad spirits away. And yet common sense dictates otherwise. They cause pain, pollution, and nowadays hit you square in the pocket as well. I was watching a report on GMA News, focusing on firecracker vendors in Bocaue, Bulacan. Business was brisk on New Year's Eve. One guy spent 15,000 PHP on fireworks because his relatives had come back from abroad to celebrate.

I can understand celebrating new times in old-school ways. But 15,000? Imagine the food you could have prepared with that money. Interviews with the impoverished in Metro Manila kept on saying that they were saving money because of tough times, and yet there they were letting their children blow stuff up good.

Sure they don't know any better, but the rest of us do and aren't doing anything about it. There are other traditions during new year that are practiced for good luck. Like eating 12 grapes with each one representing a month of the new year. I personally like the practice in Buddhist temples in Japan, where they release thousands of balloons into the air. No fireworks, just joy with simple prayers for better times.

I'm not saying that fireworks should be outlawed completely. They're used for celebration. But let the pros do it. If someone can spend 15K on fireworks, they certainly can afford to drive their family to the nearest fireworks display and enjoy the show with everyone else. Then perhaps we won't have to see news of people losing digits over new calendar numbers.

Car Crash: Epilogue and Reflections

2009-12-28T16:36:42Z

The car crash which I survived this past December 5, was a day after which my father passed away 11 years ago. Though I don't usually look into such coincidences with much fanfare, I do today with a certain reverie.

As I was on my way to work today, my transport for whatever reason decided to take the same route Ed, Lito, and I used to take during the several months I've been here. It was the first time I had revisited that route since the crash.

Today is my dad's birthday.

The intersection was as I remember it before the accident. How strange it now seems that a common work of concrete and asphalt is now personally imbued with such grim significance. My mother, a devout Catholic (not a religious nut) is a true spiritual follower, focusing on the goodness that thoughtful, soulful reflection can bring to oneself and to others. She'd probably remind me how an intersection is a cross (let's not go there), but it's just a measure of how much she loves and thinks about me I'm sure.

Dad passed away in pain. He suffered an aneurysm just as he was leaving work. Remembering him today surrounded by the memories of my recent accident, I can somehow imagine what he might have been thinking at the time. My sister and I were still finishing college while he was the sole breadwinner. I now have a child and my wife and I work to put food on the table.

It's a horrible thing to worry about how your family will survive without you, so near to the precipice. To feel that you might never see them again. I know that dad must have thought those thoughts. HIs driver and family friend Jun was with him as he rushed him to the nearest hospital. As he was taken into the ICU, Jun told us that his last words were, "Study hard. Study hard."

They could just have easily been my own.

Besides the bus driver who hit us, I was the only one who remembered the entire thing. Ed suffered head injuries, and though thank heavens they weren't really serious, he couldn't remember what happened when it did. Both of us were admitted for 3 days, and in that time, I was the one recounting the entire incident to officemates, friends and family (both Ed's and mine). We both were released the same day, suffering the same aches and pains, receiving the same kind of medication. Ed of course has the worse scars, but if you seem him today (of course with a baseball cap), you wouldn't know anything had happened to him.

It took about two weeks to really get over the pain from my contusion, bruises and neck pains. I've pretty much completely recovered. The only thing I have left is a very small mass (blood clot) around my right pelvis area caused by the seatbelt that is fading by the day. On the day I was released, it was about the size of a small banana. The nurses might have thought I was happy to see them.

I commented to several friends that none of the bystanders seemed to be willing to help. Most of them were gawking at the scene if not getting on their phones. But they along with other expats have told me that there are local considerations to be made. Many of the onlookers were maintenance crew, engineers, and other expats working in surrounding industries. And at the scene of an accident, the local police have free rein in rounding up nearby 'suspects.' Locals are usually spared, but if you're a foreigner, you'll usually be singled out and be brought in for questioning. So there are risks that you could even be accused of causing the accident if you happen to help. Compare that to Good Samaritan laws in France where you are required to help victims at the scene of a serious accident.

Speaking of culpability, the guy who caused our misfortune was a Pakistani driver working his usual bus route rushing to bring a few workers to their office. Many bus services here work several companies on tight schedules, so it's not uncommon to see their vehicles rushing here and there at the expense of 'minor' traffic infractions. Their training here is rushed by their employers, so basic signs, like the one that said STOP on his lane, was most likely an afterthought.

When I exited the smashed car, I noticed three fellows exit their bus. I had no idea which of them was the driver. Now I don't think I want to know. I don't know his name, what he looks like, or how long he'll be in jail, as he already is. The investigation was quick as I was informed there there's a law where if the front of your vehicle is damaged, the accident is ruled automatically against you, regardless of the circumstances. Though I am satisfied that he is behind bars, there is a part of me that pities him. He is most likely from an impoverished background as most drivers here I know are, slaving away to save money for his family, not being able to go home often due to travel costs. Part of me wanted to know if he was given a just sentence; if he'll be treated fairly.

That of course must be of little concern to Lito's family. His full name was Angelito Asperec, and he worked as an administrative assistant in my uncle's procurement division. He is survived by his wife Liezel and his two children. My heart goes out to them. I was told that she learned of accident while at a party. As she was told to go home, her relatives were contacted as well to proceed to her place to help her through what she would be told next.

My mom got that same sort of news when my dad passed away. I cannot describe to you how a mother has to prepare her children for the loss of their father. It's something you wish on no one.

There was small solace that my great friend and uncle Samir, Lito's boss, had been meeting with the company's chairman that same day of the accident. The chairman rarely gets to visit the company, as he last visited several months before. When someone mentioned to him that Samir had lost a valued friend and employee, the chairman offered a year's worth of Lito's salary as compensation (the usual is 3 months). It was a generous heartfelt gesture considering that the company we work for is going through a tough time.

Lito was a short, quiet kind of guy, but whenever I saw him he was always smiling. All of us Pinoys in the office would get together for lunch (all the nationalities have their own table groups, like cliques at a high school canteen). During Ramadan, where non-Muslims have to scurry away from the majority just to have lunch, we would all gather in the drivers' quarters and, for lack of a better phrase, "shoot the shit," talking about current events and politics, but never anything really personal.

My last memories of Lito are of us sharing emails and chats over Pacquiao's success over Miguel Cotto. Greeting him every morning when Ed picked us up, and wishing him well as left at the same spot. I once walked with him as he went to a nearby remittance center, preparing to send support to his family no doubt. I didn't know him long, but he was a decent man.

When Samir arrived at our accident, he said, "Thank God nothing happened to you." If you were there you would see why. Death was pretty much outside the driver's door. But oddly enough, I can't really say I've been traumatized by the event. Or perhaps I am and don't know it (subconscious denial?). I was lucid when it was all happening, systematically going through what needed to be done (as far as I knew) without giving a seconds notice. I can't say that I've been preparing for this all my life, I can't describe what my thought process was like. It was automatic.

Perhaps it's because from time to time, I intentionally go through my worst fears and think through them. Not as a form of masochism, but just to understand. I consider myself a very empathetic person, trying to comprehend thoroughly what other people go through. There are times where I have gone through what a loved one's loss, what disastrous experience, or even my own demise, would ensue. It can be quite painful at times, but you'll be surprised at what realizations you'd come to. Some consider it morbid, I consider it strangely necessary.

I am grateful that I am still breathing, experiencing pain as it tells me that I am still alive. I definitely thank seat belts. But I am especially thankful for those people (associates, strangers, nurses, doctors, friends and family) who have contacted with genuine concern and care for my safety and well-being. Especially mom and Claire whose feelings for me need not be explained. It is true what they say here in Saudi that relationships are very important. Once you really get to know someone here, they really do care for you, as my circle here has shown.

And dad, Happy Birthday. I hear you loud and clear.

I was in a car crash

2009-12-09T21:19:17Z

Note: I'm not quite ready to delve deep into my feelings on this event, nor the loss of LIto. But I will be. This is a first attempt to deal with it.

About quarter to 7 this past Saturday morning (the start of the workweek here in Saudi Arabia), the car I was riding was hit by a bus. It was the most violent incident I've ever experienced firsthand; the kind of crash you only see in movies. I survived with some minor cuts and bruises, while two of those with me suffered different fates.

The three of us (me, Ed and Lito) were on our way to work, approaching the last intersection towards the office. That intersection had been the scene of an accident before, which morbidly enough, also involved a car and a bus. It has no traffic lights, save for say a stop sign for vehicles to yield to the main road. Clearly, that sign had no bearing to the driver that smashed into our car. Smashed is the right word.

Picture for a minute our car heading north. Nearing the intersection, a white passenger bus heading in the same direction was ahead of us (think to our left, northwest). It was slowing down preparing to turn left. Ed, who was driving, naturally moved aside to pass it. In perfect yet deadly sequence, a green bus (Mercedes passenger type) was going east on that intersection.

That white bus must have been the catalyst for the crash. It blocked Ed's view of the green one before he could anticipate, and surely, if for a moment, must have blocked the green bus's view of us.

As we passed the white bus I saw the oncoming green one. It must have been 2 full seconds before impact. And in those miliseconds, I can recall perfectly the simultaneous thoughts raging through my mind. Succinctly, "Holy Shit! That green bus is not slowing down! We are going to get hit! Ed!"

Just as I was about to utter those very words. Boom.

One sees those car crashes in the movies and becomes amazed at the spectacle of it all, but what never occurred to me is how overwhelming the sound is from within the vehicles. The physical and aural assault was so complete and instantaneous, that for a full second everything seemed black, every sense deadened, and then slowly faded back into focus.

My environment was transformed. Comfortable seats and clear glass turned to wreckage and debris. There was silence, and then there was groaning and gasping, my own mostly. I was totally out of breath, so I wondered, do I have a collapsed lung? Just keep breathing. Breathe. Breathe.

My lungs seemed to be ok, so I started moving my limbs to check if anything was broken. Nothing was in pain, so I felt myself for blood. No blood no foul.

I took off my beloved seatbelt and could see bystanders starting to walk in our direction. I could hear Ed groaning like I was. His head was streaked with blood pouring down his face but I didn't know what to expect from him at the time. I exited the car.

I kept on shouting for help, but nobody seemed to understand what I was saying. As I exited the car, Ed asked me to help him out. I asked him if anything was broken, but he didn't answer. Miraculously he had the strength to push himself out of his seat as I gave him a hand. No one else did despite them surrounding the car.

I went to look in the back to check on Lito, and seeing him will stay with me 'til the end. He was slumped somewhat facedown on the seat, which was drenched in blood, about a liter's worth.

I saw the side of his face. I knew right then it was badly fractured. His left side had a crack in the middle and it was impacted. There was another on the top of his head, which was as drenched as the seat. Lito was murmuring; all I could make out was "Tulong..." (Help).

I wanted to get him out, but I was so frightened that moving him would make his condition worse. All I could do was touch his shoulder and say, "Lito, huwag kang gumalaw. Huwag kang gumalaw." (Lito, don't move. Don't move).

Ed and I were screaming for help, but the locals weren't doing anything except gawking at the mess. I spotted an officemate whom I didn't know, and he started calling the medics. I called my uncle. Ed called his wife. While Ed was on the phone he kept asking me what happened repeatedly. Each time I told him not to think about it now and just rest. It worried me that he asked each time as if it were a new question. He also asked me where the blood was coming from his head. I pointed it out to him (from the top).

I then started to feel a slight sting near the back of my head, and sure enough it was bleeding, but nowhere near as bad as I thought it was at the time (about half an inch long, and not deep). It turns out I must have hit my head on the right hand window as I was looking left towards the green bus. Good thing I was wearing my seatbelt. Lito was not.

The crash sent the car probably 20 meters into the intersection road heading east. We could have been sent flying into another vehicle, or barrel rolling several times. Heavens be praised. My uncle arrived and told me "Thank God nothing happened to you." I recognized more people from the office, where there was supposed to be a party that morning celebrating Eid al-Adha. It was cancelled.

The ambulance must have arrived 15-20 minutes after the crash. I got in, Ed next, and then Lito was brought in on a stretcher, with his head the most heavily bandaged of all. The trip must have taken 10 minutes to get there. Ed and I were facing each other as I was continuing to point out which spot on his head he should keep pressure on. Lito was groaning the whole trip. God knows how much agony his head injuries were causing him. His right hand was fractured, and he kept on using his left to remove his oxygen mask, which must've have been causing him much pain. The attendant in the ambulance with us was also Filipino, and told Lito that he needed the oxygen. He also put in tubes to remove blood from Lito's mouth in case it was hindering his breathing.

We got to the hospital which gave us all the prompt attention. I was attended to last because I was the luckiest. I was shipped from room to room on a wheelchair, encountering officemates I knew and didn't know, not knowing where Ed and Lito were around the facility. As I finished having my x-rays taken in the ICU, I saw Lito in his stretcher, and I spotted him blinking and breathing. Heavens be praised, he looks like he's going to be alright.

In what seemed like an hour later, I was in another room for my ultrasound scans, I overheard some Filipino nurses and technicians speaking.

"May namatay na Pinoy sa ICU kanina." (A Filipino died in the ICU a while ago). I asked who it was, it was Lito.

It couldn't have been! I saw him minutes ago! He looked like he was going to make it!

It was just what they heard. I asked them what the cause was as if that mattered; it was a massive car crash. As the day went on, I got different causes. Head trauma. Hemorrhaging. Cardiac Arrest. He might have had them all. The last one was the official cause.

I have some ugly hematomas around my waist and a contusion around my left ribs because of the seatbelt (It's what caused my loss of breath). I have multiple tiny blood scars on the back of my left hand because of the minute glass debris. Even after a day after the crash, I accidentally bit on those little shards every time I winced in pain. When I undressed the first time after the accident, bits of glass fell out of my clothes and shoes.

I was given a neck brace in the first two days mainly for precautionary measures. I didn't feel pain in my neck for about an hour after the accident, but that's normal because of the shock from whiplash. Even today I have stiff neck symptoms.

The contusion made it difficult to breathe even after the accident. It didn't help that my uncle Samir (God bless him) kept on making me laugh even while I was being evaluated. Comedy is the best medicine.

Ed thank goodness is ok, and was ok even in the hospital, despite the great pain he felt understandably. I was almost certain that he was seriously injured when the crash happened. He also feels some back pain while walking, but x-rays revealed no broken bones whatsoever. His wife Cynthia is one tough cookie, bringing humor and strength for both of us while we were in the hospital. I would like to have that reservoir of resolve wherever she gets it. Ed and I were released on the same day.

I'm the only one who remembers the whole thing. And strangely enough, though I can recall pretty much every detail of what went on, it was only today I relived the whole incident when I was riding in my boss's car today as he came to visit me. It wasn't that he wasn't driving safely (He was), it's that for whatever reason, I was only ready to process what it felt like.

It was a terrifying day. A day I thought I was going to die.

Roger wrote about... me?

2009-09-30T20:27:20Z

So there I was checking up Roger Ebert's blog, being the fan that I am.

"The blogs of my blog" it was titled. In it, Roger reveals that he likes to roam around his reader's blogs just like anyone else. Of course, anyone who reads his blog knows what an infinitesimal rarity it is: One that contains intelligent commentary of the highest order from both its author and its readers (well, with the readers... most of the time)!

Roger's entries usually surround his life's passions, yet this one stood out. Here, he chooses to recognize his readers by highlighting their blogs. I don't think it's an exaggeration when I say this is the first time I have witnessed any blogger or writer (a Pulitzer Prize winner at that) recognize his constituency in such a comprehensive and thoughtful way.

]]> "The blogs of my blog" highlights several bloggers of varying interests. Roger goes to great lengths to provide excerpts of their writings and backgrounds. If that isn't proof of an author who actually takes time to listen to his audience, please show me a better one.

I recognized the regulars (as I am one of them). Grace Wang, S. M. Rana, Seongyong Cho, and Marie Haws; no doubt they would be mentioned. I've delved into their musings in my extra time and find their words absorbing and invigorating. Their prolificacy, along with Roger's, is something I envy. I used to write just as much, and as often if not more so. But writing is an activity which you cannot live on where I come from (that's another blog entry). I hadn't updated my blog in months, and before that, a year. Still, with my writing aspirations still flickering now and then, I hoped Roger would cite me.

"Michael Mirasol at Flipcritic came to my defense last May when I wrote negatively about a Filipino entry at Cannes, "Kinatay." Outraged Filipino readers accused me of xenophobia, racism, stupidity and worse. He discusses the dust-up here.

Like a great many overseas readers and bloggers, he has an understanding of American pop culture that would shame many an American. Here he has well-written appreciations of George Carlin, Cyd Charisse, and Stan Winston."

As Roger would say, "Good Gravy!"

To be completely honest, I thought this was being too kind. I never thought of my writings in ways Roger described. But it meant a lot knowing he actually took the time to read what I cared about. Imagine this recognition, coming from someone who opened my mind not only to the world of film, but to storytelling, art, and a bit of life as well. He did so by revealing a bit of himself to all of his readers over the years, and that is why he is not only respected, but admired. And yes, loved.

Roger taught me how to watch a movie, how to be honest in assessing it. His prose gave form to mine, and his words form to my understanding. I feel so indebted to him; seeing my name recognized as it was, was like a pat on the back. This was the best encouragement I could possibly get.

Orson and Jason, my two best friends, have been egging me on incessantly to keep on with my writing, and yet I held off with one excuse after another (Sorry guys). With this, there are none left.

Roger, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.

"Kinatay" and Filipino Pride

2009-05-25T06:00:56Z

A few days ago, I was reading Roger Ebert's blog about 'Kinatay", a Filipino film which competed at this year's prestigious Cannes film festival. He mentioned the film was unwatchable, so much so that he apologized for calling Vincent Gallo's "The Brown Bunny" the worst film in the festival's history.

It's not just Roger who dislikes the movie. Several prominent critics from the Boston Globe, The Chicago Tribune, The New York Times, and Variety have noted how bad they felt the movie is. Of course everyone has their own opinion on what makes a film good or bad, but what is truly worrying about the the movie is how it was jeered at its reception and eventual awarding (more on that later).
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Boos--a different sort; what you might call a consensus boo, without any lines of defense to make things interesting--filled the air the night before following Philippine director Brillante Mendoza's grim slog "Kinatay" - Michael Phillips, Chicago Tribune

Sure enough, when the credits rolled, a wan, smattering of applause met a not-insignificant round of boos. Booing -- real booing (especially of something that can't hear it) -- is uncomfortable because I always expect it to lead to something worse, as though a chorus of boos leads straight to riots in the streets. I left before the credits ended. So who knows, maybe the red carpet is on fire as I type. - Wesley Morris, Boston Globe

"Kinatay," a Filipino low-budgeter with a centerpiece scene devoted to the butchery of a woman, may have enthused some of director Brillante Mendoza's hardcore fans but appalled most others; surely Un Certain Regard would have provided a more appropriate home for this than did the competition. - Todd McCarthy, Variety

Mr. Mendoza, a rising talent who was at Cannes last year with the rowdy "Serbis," could use all the help he could get with this movie. A morality tale that he wields like a blunt instrument, "Kinatay" hinges on the inaction of a police-academy student while a prostitute is murdered and dismembered. The movie had its respectful fans, but many others fled the theater. - Manola Dargis, New York Times

With all of the bad feedback, I apologized to Roger as a Filipino and film critic for the film. I felt embarrassed as a movie lover, seeing a compatriot's film panned and booed.

And that's when, go figure, I got called out for being a disgrace to my country.

Several commenters derided me for lacking pride in the film, our country, asking my why I had the nerve to apologize for a film which I had nothing to do with. I asked for civility, but several Filipinos piled on criticizing Roger for being anti-Filipino and for the apologizers for their "treachery."

Then Brillante Mendoza won the festival's best director award, whose announcement was just as shocking, if not more, as his film's reception.

Those awards were perhaps not expected, but were well-received. Then the jury started springing surprises that didn't go over as well.

The biggest was the Best Director Award to Brillante Mendoza of the Philippines, for the very violent "Kinatay," one of the worst-received films of the festival. It involves the kidnapping, torture, rape, beheading and dismemberment of woman by members of the police force.

The announcement was greeted by loud booing as the festival's press corps watched on closed circuit TV in the Debussy theater, next door to the Lumiere, where the ceremony was held. - Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times

... when Filipino filmmaker Brillante Mendoza won the directing prize for "Kinatay," in which a police academy student witnesses a series of depraved acts committed against an exotic dancer, the hoots from the press corps reached a crescendo. Accepting his award, Mendoza seemed as surprised as anyone that Huppert's jury recognized, as he termed it, "my kind of cinema." - Michael Phillips, Chicago Tribune

The biggest shock of the night was the Best Director award, which went to the Filipino Brillante Mendoza for his grisly kidnap film Kinatay, one of the most reviled films in the competition. - Ben Hoyle, Times of London

This may all seem like a criticism of Brillante Mendoza and his work, but it's far from it. I'm happy that he's been rewarded for his hard work. His craftsmanship is well above that of his peers in the Philippine entertainment industry, and he strives to make films that are important to him and not to commercial interests.

However, do not mistake how I feel about his efforts with how I feel about the film, which is at the moment, leaning towards shame. It's true that I have not seen the film, and therefore have no final opinion of it. But when the most recognized film critic in the world says that a movie is the worst in the history of Cannes, you have to take notice.

I have listened to Roger Ebert for almost half my life now, and for people to call him racist and populist is to show ignorance or jealousy. No man in the last in the past several decades has done more to illuminate films of every kind, regardless of who their from, where they're made, or what they intend to do. Sure he operates in the mainstream, but when you actually read his reviews, very few can match his intelligence.

As for me, I reserve the right to say sorry for a film, if others reserve the right to feel pride in it. Now that Mr. Mendoza has won, those same accusers who are so outraged by us apologists now feel immense national pride. How dare they? Did they have anything to do with it?

When "Slumdog Millionaire" won the Best Film Oscar, many Indians felt that same fervor of pride or anger. Some didn't like the references to dogs, some were elated at an India-focused movie receiving film's highest honor. Don't think for a moment that if a Filipino did the same, we Pinoys would be losing our minds.

Is that a bad thing? To apologize or feel pride in a film we have no hand in making? Of course not. For movie lovers, we have much at stake, whatever those investments are. If you're happy with Brillante Mendoza's win for his work with "Kinatay," then more power to you. An award at Cannes for all its criticisms is still a valued prize. Personally, I don't feel pride in a film that has caused so much revulsion among audiences.

But who knows? That might change once I've actually seen it.

And today's national headline is... a sex video

2009-05-20T22:53:53Z

Philippine news in the last day or so has been consumed by a supposed furor over a supposed "scandalous" sex video, containing intimate moments between Katrina Halili and Hayden Kho, a popular sex starlet and a plastic surgeon respectively.

Read that last sentence again. Now ask yourself these two questions.

Is this news worthy?
Does it concern the nation?

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All well and good. Now if the second question also has your "yes," what makes it national news?

It's complicated you say. But surely headline news involves the national interest.

Does a celebrity sex video merit this more than say:

the global financial crisis
the massive unemployment figures
the upcoming Philippine election
the H1N1 virus
the other countless government scandals which don't involve sex?

I think not. But one might counter that the release of this video deplorable. Of course it is, and action should be taken. But do we really need a senator and the office of the President jumping in on what hardly seems to be of concern to the national interest?

Maybe not. One can argue however that a woman being exploited this way should be of national concern. Sure! But if the government is really serious about the welfare of women being exploited sexually, it should take aim at the conditions causing it. Like say, Katrina Halili's employers and their industry.

Let's not kid ourselves. This video is just another way for the media to make money and for politicians to gain support. To think that the Philippine Daily Inquirer posted a screen capture on its online front page of the said video. Imagine if The New York Times had done the same of Paris Hilton.

Whether you think this is of national interest or not, the answer is what you deserve.

Pinoy = Pikon

2009-05-20T01:47:35Z

Filipinos are known for being humorous. We can find light-hearted solace in the most depressing of situations. It's how most of our brethren, the impoverished and down-trodden, get by to survive life's daily travails. Despite this, we are also the most thin-skinned when anything remotely Filipino related is made fun of or criticized.

The latest incredulous example is the Alec Baldwin's supposed "slur" on our nation. According to this report, he has, "joined the ranks of internationally recognized celebrities who have maligned Filipinos."

Baldwin said in an interview on the "Late Show with David Letterman" last May 12 how he thought of getting, or buying, himself a Filipina bride.

"I think about getting a Filipino mail-order bride at this point or a Russian one, I don't care, I'm 51," Baldwin told host David Letterman.

Oh, the outrage! Wait 'til the Russian consulate sends its complaints over the slurring of their people as well!

]]> The report goes on to cite several other examples of how our national dignity has been tainted by other foreigners, such as Teri Hatcher's line on Desperate Housewives, and Chip Tsao's failed satire on his column about Filipino housemaids in Hong Kong.

I will admit that I was incensed by Chip Tsao's article, but I felt it was because his attempt at satire was too vague, or perhaps too exclusive of the nuances he was trying to convey.

But to include Ms. Hatcher and other Hollywood celebrities/stars who have made jokes at our expense, as people who step on our Nationhood is preposterous. Countless jokes have been made about other countries and the stereotypes they are associated with. Does that make them derogatory? Hell no. These same people make countless jokes about their own country as well. Does that make them treacherous? Same answer.

Whoever is trying to stir up these waters by inciting National pride and anger have their agendas. The Philippine media wants ratings. The politicians and organizations who inflame these accusations want to increase their constituents. But in the end we are just making ourselves look like insensitive fools.

On Roger Ebert's blog, I made an apology for a Filipino film which he found bad. And as expected, I received a few comments accusing me of being unpatriotic and envious. Roger Ebert was also accused by a few of marring our image.

Archie Del Mundo: I am outraged by two things here...or probably two people...You and compatriot Michael Mirasol...first, Mr. Mirasol, who are you to apologize in behalf of Mendoza and as a Filipino? You are a disgrace! Either you are a Filipino who is based somewhere and is not sure anymore what he is talking about (the Philippines and its film industry). Mr. Ebert, this review is so unfair and I almost want to cry...don't ever think of coming here for you are not welcome.

Roger's reply was of course, right on the dot.

Ebert: I was not reviewing the Philippines, but a movie. There is a big difference. My opinion of your nation could not be higher. When I attack an American film, does that mean I dislike America?

Thankfully, there were a few well-meaning Filipinos whose comments say it best.

Bianca: ...The thing with Filipinos (being one), yes, as the others who commented here, we are VERY thin-skinned individuals and citizens (I will not try to explain why because i will sound redundant already). **at this point, i will separate myself from them** they tend to take EVERYTHING personally (which is annoying) without giving any chance of comprehending whatever criticism they heard. Basically, criticism/comment = INSULT for them.

For those Pinoys reading this, and you know who you are... lighten up.