Monday, June 25, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
TO SILIP OR NOT TO SILIP
So was the question. But it was not a question, really. It was me and Praxedes trying to figure out what to watch in Gateway. There was Ocean’s Thirteen. There was Meet the Robinsons. There was Zodiac. But the question went immaterial. Because we watched Joel Lamangan’s Silip (English: peek) anyway, in spite of... despite of...
Home in Q.C. I’m trying to write this blog Ian-Fleming-style. Drunk in front of DVD playing. It’s Daredevil and I don’t care if I’m watching it the third time. It’s just Ben Afflick in his tight leather and Collin Farrel and his sexy goatee. Nothing personal.
It was a tough choice watching Silip considering the contenders mentioned above. But a poster that shows Polo Ravales’s veins piping along tremendously chiseled arms and shoulders tipped the balance of decision. To think that I even told Praxedes that I don’t trust Joel Lamangan films. Not that they’re quite mediocre. They are the epitome of abject mediocrity. But Polo’s anatomy makes for a movie worth seeing. At least, for us. Fuck (excuse my French)! We’re such suckers for musculature.

In this movie, Polo Raveles is the alpha-male handicraft vendor, Francine Prieto as Selya, and Diana Subiri as Tess. Tess is married to Polo (who wouldn’t). Selya is the pigment of her psychosis. She imagined her, first, as a friend who keeps her company while Polo is away selling his wears (the handicraft). Then she sees her as Polo’s scheming paramour. I also have a Selya in my life but he’s definitely not an illusion. He’s real and he’s out there looking for a relationship to destroy (play Dideth Reyes’s Tukso here). The lie is out there.
I digress. Always.
Back to Silip.
Why Silip, I don’t know. The closest scene in the movie that would get to the title were the bath scenes. Yes there is an s. We know that in the province, people take their shower outside their huts. Inside a four walled structure made of palm leaves, or wood, or bamboo, devoid of roof. Here we see Tess (zzz...), and Selia (hohummm...), and Polo R. (clap, clap, clap...) soaping their selves in what seems to be a palipuran made of bamboo thatched inches apart. One can merely watch the bathers meters away without having an ounce of effort to make silip (peek) and see the glory of both male and female gross anatomy. So it seems these scenes neither count to justify the title. So what made Silip?
I suspect it’s about the movie’s plot. It’s struggling to come out of the story and all it could afford is to peek out of the spiel’s logic.
But, hey, there was one scene that made me cathartic. In a restaurant, two fried whole chickens were served. I drooled. And I drooled. I continuously drooled. I was watching Polo shirtless and I doubly drooled. One for him and still one for the chickens that were shown almost an hour since. After the movie, in Esquinita where we met Ninghao, I craved for chicken so badly I went to a nearby chicken inasal and ordered two servings.
If we are to stick to the fact that movies are meant to entertain, then Silip perhaps count as one. I had a few laughs. Well, honestly, a lot:
Tess asked the deaf-mute for a conversation. I laughed. She realized he’s deaf-mute. I laughed. So she simply said it’s ok and that he may go. The deaf-mute thanked her. I laughed. My spleen almost burst.
There was this knife. The knife in the kitchen. Kept at the very same corner. Of the kitchen. Tess used it to slit the throat of the deaf-mute. Tess used it to stab Selya. Tess used it on Polo. Every time, the knife is found on the same corner of the kitchen. Would anyone use the same knife on one’s cooking if it has already been used to kill somebody?! I’m not laughing.
One night, there was a storm. Take note: a storm. Hours later, on the same night, Selya and Tess were drinking outside the house with bonfires everywhere. That scene ended with the women laughing and dancing. I don’t know with you but I am not joining.
Tess murdered Selya. Yes, with the ever-present knife. Polo was furious. After he helped Tess dump the body, he went to the river to wash the blood off him. Tess went up to him to help him wash. He was startled by her touch. He faced her. Said, “Nandididri ako sa’yo!”
Tess, next time he does that, face him, grab his crotch and blurt out, “Bansot ka!”
Speaking of bansot (Japanese: bonsai), one scene shows tall Selya and short Polo running naked across the glades. What I see was a boy running away with his aunt. The thought is appalling.
Polo brought Tess to the hospital. She was diagnosed to have psychosis. He asked the doctor where does one get such. Watching this movie, one need no doctor to surmise where one gets psychosis. I figured, it’s the bad script. Where else?
I should stop with these litanies or I won’t be able to sleep. But before I end, though, I have one thing to say to the director:
Joel, Joel, Joel... tsk, tsk, tsk... next time I watch a Filipino film, sana wala lang lamangan.
Home in Q.C. I’m trying to write this blog Ian-Fleming-style. Drunk in front of DVD playing. It’s Daredevil and I don’t care if I’m watching it the third time. It’s just Ben Afflick in his tight leather and Collin Farrel and his sexy goatee. Nothing personal.
It was a tough choice watching Silip considering the contenders mentioned above. But a poster that shows Polo Ravales’s veins piping along tremendously chiseled arms and shoulders tipped the balance of decision. To think that I even told Praxedes that I don’t trust Joel Lamangan films. Not that they’re quite mediocre. They are the epitome of abject mediocrity. But Polo’s anatomy makes for a movie worth seeing. At least, for us. Fuck (excuse my French)! We’re such suckers for musculature.

In this movie, Polo Raveles is the alpha-male handicraft vendor, Francine Prieto as Selya, and Diana Subiri as Tess. Tess is married to Polo (who wouldn’t). Selya is the pigment of her psychosis. She imagined her, first, as a friend who keeps her company while Polo is away selling his wears (the handicraft). Then she sees her as Polo’s scheming paramour. I also have a Selya in my life but he’s definitely not an illusion. He’s real and he’s out there looking for a relationship to destroy (play Dideth Reyes’s Tukso here). The lie is out there.
I digress. Always.
Back to Silip.
Why Silip, I don’t know. The closest scene in the movie that would get to the title were the bath scenes. Yes there is an s. We know that in the province, people take their shower outside their huts. Inside a four walled structure made of palm leaves, or wood, or bamboo, devoid of roof. Here we see Tess (zzz...), and Selia (hohummm...), and Polo R. (clap, clap, clap...) soaping their selves in what seems to be a palipuran made of bamboo thatched inches apart. One can merely watch the bathers meters away without having an ounce of effort to make silip (peek) and see the glory of both male and female gross anatomy. So it seems these scenes neither count to justify the title. So what made Silip?
I suspect it’s about the movie’s plot. It’s struggling to come out of the story and all it could afford is to peek out of the spiel’s logic.
But, hey, there was one scene that made me cathartic. In a restaurant, two fried whole chickens were served. I drooled. And I drooled. I continuously drooled. I was watching Polo shirtless and I doubly drooled. One for him and still one for the chickens that were shown almost an hour since. After the movie, in Esquinita where we met Ninghao, I craved for chicken so badly I went to a nearby chicken inasal and ordered two servings.
If we are to stick to the fact that movies are meant to entertain, then Silip perhaps count as one. I had a few laughs. Well, honestly, a lot:
Tess asked the deaf-mute for a conversation. I laughed. She realized he’s deaf-mute. I laughed. So she simply said it’s ok and that he may go. The deaf-mute thanked her. I laughed. My spleen almost burst.
There was this knife. The knife in the kitchen. Kept at the very same corner. Of the kitchen. Tess used it to slit the throat of the deaf-mute. Tess used it to stab Selya. Tess used it on Polo. Every time, the knife is found on the same corner of the kitchen. Would anyone use the same knife on one’s cooking if it has already been used to kill somebody?! I’m not laughing.
One night, there was a storm. Take note: a storm. Hours later, on the same night, Selya and Tess were drinking outside the house with bonfires everywhere. That scene ended with the women laughing and dancing. I don’t know with you but I am not joining.
Tess murdered Selya. Yes, with the ever-present knife. Polo was furious. After he helped Tess dump the body, he went to the river to wash the blood off him. Tess went up to him to help him wash. He was startled by her touch. He faced her. Said, “Nandididri ako sa’yo!”
Tess, next time he does that, face him, grab his crotch and blurt out, “Bansot ka!”
Speaking of bansot (Japanese: bonsai), one scene shows tall Selya and short Polo running naked across the glades. What I see was a boy running away with his aunt. The thought is appalling.
Polo brought Tess to the hospital. She was diagnosed to have psychosis. He asked the doctor where does one get such. Watching this movie, one need no doctor to surmise where one gets psychosis. I figured, it’s the bad script. Where else?
I should stop with these litanies or I won’t be able to sleep. But before I end, though, I have one thing to say to the director:
Joel, Joel, Joel... tsk, tsk, tsk... next time I watch a Filipino film, sana wala lang lamangan.
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