Se habran enterado del chico que se cayo del árbol sobre la reja. Pobre el chico que se ensartó nada menos que una reja en la pierna; y pobre de nosotros si tenemos que esperar la ambulancia del hospital. Podra ser posible que siempre esta rota? Como hacen para romperla si nunca esta disponible? Habría que pedirle a los muchachos que dejen de hacer mandados con un vehículo público. Dicen que los de la ambulancia de Fernandez se burlaban y chicaneaban sobre el estado de la unidad oficial pero resulta que después (castigo divino o triste realidad) se les rompio a ellos. Una verguenza al cuadrado!

¡Qué pena da el pobre!, ¡y hasta casi le atropellan!

A selection of 7 short films by the Katorse Writers Group (batch 14 workshoppers of Ricky Lee’s f scriptwriting workshops) graces Robinson’s Galleria’s Indie Sine with “Katorse Shorts,” a selection of 7 short films in a dedicated program normally given to full-length films only. With themes ranging from the romantic to the absurd to the tragic, the program is meant to bring to the consciousness of Filipino audiences that the short film medium is also a cinematic art form that can hold its own.

Overall, the films show strength in concept, story, and treatment amidst the many given limitations for such indie shorts having to cope up with financial and time constraints, lack of technical resources, among others.

The “Katorse Shorts” line-up include:

“Ang Kapalaran ni Virgin Mario” (11 mins.)
By: Ogi Sugatan
Cast: Yul Servo, Forsyth Cordero
Gay lovers, Mario and Jose, experience the most joyful of mysteries.
6th SHORTMOVES International Film Festival, GERMANY
Jakarta Slingshortfest (2006)
International Short Film Festival Detmold "FilmLichter06"

The film is stylized with comic acts about a pregnant male. It puts allegories catering to the kind of audience who are into the more figurative offers. With a theatrical presentation in depths of black, its visual elements merely include the characters and the significant elements supporting the scenes’ requirements. Considering the many kinds of audiences, this short film absurdly renders fleeting emotions within its minimalist surroundings that some might find interesting, some might find wackily droll, and some might find weird.

“Ambulancia” (15 mins)
By: Richard Legaspi
Cast: Alan Paule, Nor Domingo
Ambulancia tells of a painful twist in an ambulance driver's belief that a dying patient can be saved by running over stray animals on the streets.
In Competition, International Panorama of Film and Video, Patras City Greece 2008
In Competition, NOUSSA International Film Festival, Greece 2008
Winner, Quisumbing Escandor Film Festival, Best Short Narrative 2008
Winner, Grand Prize, Viva-PBO Digitales, Philippines 2008
Official Selection, Asian Film Academy Fellows Night Screening, S. Korea 2007
Official Selection, CineManila International Film Festival 2007

The film’s screenplay is its major strength. Overall, the performances give it justice. The dialogues coincide with the tight pacing. The cuts succeed in building tension to the scenes requiring such. Trying to drive with that careful balance of keeping the twist while letting the main character indulge with the right emotions, a little more depth to how the character delivers the goods for a more solid pain and empathy to his plight, and this film elevates itself further.

“Manyika” (15 mins.)
By: John Wong
Cast: Bor Ocampo, Sheenly Vee Gener
Manyika is a tale of talking teddies, an impatient miss, and a misunderstood lover.
Best Short Film, 2006 Cinemadali Short Film Competition

The film could have been as mushy and overbearing like its stuff toys; and yet, it turns out striking – mainly come climax time. Within its realistic treatment, there is a kind of mystery established in the characterization that makes the film work. The voiceovers could have been lessened a bit and things would just be fine. There are some dragging expositions that could probably be due to limitations in the production. Nevertheless, the film’s touching end creates such an emotional slice of life story.

“Puwang” (25 mins)
By: Anna Isabelle Matutina
Cast: Elmo Redrico, Roence Santos, Bon Reyes, Lorena Landicho
Puwang is a starkly real look into a family on the verge of falling apart in the face of impending death.
2007 Official Selection: Lyon Asian Film Festival, France
2006 Finalist: Cinemalaya Independent Film Festival
2006 Exhibition Film: Cinemanila International Film Festival

As a father-to-his children story and vice-versa, this melodrama about life and living life promotes simple shots while delivering lines with the right emotional baggage at work. Its minimalist production design and cinematography blend well with the story as it carefully stitches issues that has damaged family relationships.

“Dead Letter” (20 mins)
By: Grace Orbon
Cast: Gamaliel Nicolas, Edel del Llarte
A young man's journey into the world of writing.
In Competition, 3rd Singapore Short Film Festival 2006

Poetic on its own, there is that consistent angst expressed through words uttered by the main character. However, the film still needs further direction in order to solidify its point and effectively bring the linear and abstract aspects of its storytelling requirements effectively into the medium.

“Lababo” (17 mins)
By: Seymour Barros Sanchez
Cast: Nerissa Icot, Virnie Tolentino, Stephen Patrick Moore
Lababo is the story of a young woman and a crazy woman who both fell in love with the same American soldier.
Grand Prize, Viva's PBO Digitales Short Film Competition 2007
In competition, 48th Bilbao Film Festival in Spain 2006
In exhibition, Internal Affairs 1, Jakarta Slingshortfest 2006
In exhibition, 8th Cinemanila International Film Festival 2006
In competition, 8th International Panorama of Independent Film and Video in Greece

Consistent with its style, the film’s progressive tone is apparent the whole time. Its supposed lines are merely supported by the talking radio announcer serving what voiceovers would normally offer – while also working as good metaphors on how the Philippines tend to seek leftovers from America in various respects. The narrative could have benefited further by utilizing more of the thoughts and emotions of the woman character inside the house waiting for her man’s return. And such could have further enhanced the emotional plunge into the many issues the film presents.

“Walong Linggo” (18 mins)
By: Anna Isabelle Matutina
Cast: Jaymee Joaquin, Joey Santos
A young man who sits alone in a cafe every Sunday morning suddenly finds himself strangely falling in love with a girl he doesn't know.

The film’s treatment seems to be paying homage to the silent era films where the visuals and music comprise the totality of the film’s technical and audio-visual aspects. It puts the unspoken information through texts like title cards in the opening or closing credits of films of today. And the musical score plays a significant role in establishing the mood for each theme and the emotional needs of its love story.

Watching “Katorse Shorts”, an omnibus of short films produced by the Katorse Writers’ Group, “a group of young writer-filmmakers who were part of Ricky Lee’s 14th Scriptwriting Workshop”—as they describe themselves—one realizes how many films would have been better had they been shorter.

The most successful shorts in this omnibus prove that you don’t need to take so much time putting your story across–and specifically I’m thinking about Richard Legaspi’s “Ambulansya”, one of the seven short films in the omnibus.

Too bad I learned about “Katorse Shorts” only last Friday. I watched it on Saturday and by the time you read this review, you’ll only have Tuesday, June 17, to catch this compendium of independent short films before Robinson Galleria’s Indie Sine pulls it out.

Still, the effort you’ll put in catching this collection of short films on its last day, as well as the P101 that you’ll pay for a ticket, will be more than worth it.

There are seven short films by six of these “writer-filmmakers” in the collection and it’s a pity that the Indie Sine theater wasn’t as packed as, say, any of the recent Hollywood or local blockbusters.

The best thing about short films like these is that they are freed of many of the usual considerations that are necessary for more commercial fare. As a result, you get a film viewing experience that actually stimulates the more important parts of your brain.

“When Love Begins” vs “Manyika”

In the Joey Reyes opus “When Love Begins” has a scene where Anne Curtis flashes a butt-cheek from out her bikini-bottom as she runs off to the beach in Boracay. Try to guess which part of your brain was buzzing when you saw that scene, huh?

And look at the pairing between Aga Muhlach and Anne Curtis: two impossibly gorgeous people in a seaside paradise setting, with both location and plot conspiring to have them either wear a) anatomy-revealing beachwear or b) fashionable outfits for an evening dinner.

As a potent piece of fantasy and visual allure, “When Love Begins” is luscious and lusty, slick and saccharine to the max. Now what was the story about, again? Oh, yeah, two people struggling toward long-term commitment.

Well, the short film “Manyika (Doll)” in “Katorse Shorts” has characters with the same problem. However, it is set in Luneta Park. The most striking thing about the lovers in “Manyika” is how ordinary they look. These aren’t movie romantic leads, obviously.

The characters, in fact, dress, act and look every bit as ordinary as actual Luneta couples. The guy struggles with commitment and has a weird habit of giving the girl a stuffed toy at the end of every date.

She gets nearly one stuffed toy a day, several a week, and her room is filled with them. He struggles to explain to her why he does it, and fails.

She struggles to commit herself to the relationship, but can’t stand the reality that they never go anywhere except Luneta, and she keeps getting stuffed toys from him. Worse, he could never bring himself to tell her “I love you.”

One night, he gives her the biggest stuffed toy ever–she’s so fed up that she throws it away. What happens next? Watch and find out.

Directed by John Wong, “Manyika” won Best Short Film at the 2006 Cinemadali Short Film Competition and was part of the official selection for the Gawad CCP para sa Alternatibong Pelikula at Bidyo.

Sacrificial dogs

The short film “Ambulansya (Ambulance)” is 15 minutes and 22 seconds long–which is surprising to learn since the narrative is so strong and so seamless, it seems to be over in one breath and one is left stunned in the end by feelings of tragedy and wonder.

Alan Paule (as Nato the ambulance driver) seems perfect for the role. The premise upon which the entire story revolves is based on a superstitious belief among Filipino ambulance drivers–or at least, among the ambulance drivers in Nato’s circle.

One of these drivers mentions to Nato during a cigarette break this curious phenomenon: whenever he (Nato’s fellow driver) accidentally runs over a dog, cat or some other animal as he rushes to drive a dying patient to the hospital, the patient makes it alive to the emergency room.

This driver then makes the conclusion that the life of the unfortunate animal had been “sacrificed” and serves to literally give its life-force to the dying patient.

The short film nowhere indicates how prevalent this belief is among Filipino ambulance drivers, but Nato–who laughs at the notion initially–eventually gets to test the theory later on. And what a test it is–to tell you more would ruin your viewing of this gem so we’ll stop here.

Stressed-out sister

In Anna Isabelle Matutina’s “Puwang” (The Space Between), a family grapples with the impending death of their ailing father.

The eldest daughter, Arlene, is married with children but has to shoulder all the expenses and responsibilities of caring for ill parent.

The youngest sibling, Anne, is pregnant and was recently abandoned by the father of her child–who is a married man. While she and Arlene are watching over their father, Anne goes into labor. This naturally places more burdens upon Arlene.

To make things worse, the father keeps calling for his favorite son, Angelo. However, he and Angleo had a falling out and the latter has not shown up for the last five years.

Just when Arlene reaches the end of her rope from all the stress and passes out on the sofa on the hospital lobby, Angelo finally appears. He proceeds to his father’s room.

We’ll avoid giving spoilers about “Puwang” but will only say that it succeeds in painting a gripping, emotional portrait of a Filipino family in difficulty–many if not most Filipino families in the Philippines will surely be able to relate to the plight of Arlene et al. That the film nearly falls into melodrama at some point is forgivable.

The hues of the film are all in gray, the lighting is consistent all throughout–a technical achievement as well as a success in terms of mood and atmosphere.

The only complaint I will make is in the choice of showing certain scatological elements: Angelo wiping his father’s excrement off the floor of the hospital room; another scene where the camera focuses on Angelo cleaning up his father on the toilet.

My reaction as a member of the audience was perhaps natural–hey, this was shit up close on camera. Still, my question is: Was it was truly necessary for the camera to close-in on the excrement? It seemed overkill to me.

On the other hand, for a film that had been understated and restrained all throughout, maybe the scatological shots represented a kind of peak point in the film–when certain repressed, unspoken, and perhaps repellent elements, metaphorically and literally–needed to be loosed upon us.

After all, the father unleashes these elements in Angelo’s presence and he is left, literally, cleaning up after the shit (literal and metaphorical) between him and his dad.

There’s a brief but terrifying moment, right before Angelo approaches his father, when the son locks the door–shutting himself in with his father. One wonders, in a panic, whether Angelo has more sinister plans for his dad.

Is Angelo going to put his father out of his misery by suffocating him with a pillow? Is Angelo out for vengeance over the still unrevealed conflict with his father? Or is he after forgiveness and reconciliation?

The film’s ending is no surprise and is actually quite deflating–but then perhaps that just adds to making one’s sense of relief and loss more acute at the conclusion of “Puwang”.

“Dead Letter”

Things got boring for me in “Dead Letter”. I found “Dead Letter” to be much too talky and static in too many parts. I loved the opening shot, though, with images of pages from letters flipping, flappin and falling, the crisp, crackling sound of paper very audible, inspiring a nostalgic mood.

I just couldn’t relate to the main character, who is a writer struggling to finish a script in time for a competition’s deadline. The introspections the writer goes through–which we are made privy to thanks to voice-overs–seem unengaging to me now at my age.

Maybe when I was in college there was a point when such thoughts seemed profound or important, but now come off as rather juvenile.

There were good scenes though. Like when a character, Felipe, from the writer’s script comes to life and confront’s the latter. Felipe is angry and even threatens the writer, “Papatayin kita! (I will kill you!)”. As the film progresses, you hope the character makes good on his promise.

There are scenes and locations that would be nostalgic to anybody who spent his youth in Manila. The shots of the Central Post Office–which processes mail for the entire country–were very compeling. We see postal workers working with thousands upon thousands of snail mail–yes, snail mail still exists, folks, despite the Initernet. We wonder what those workers would do in case an anthrax-laced letter comes in.

Of course, we zoom into the Dead Letter Section, which is where the writer’s script ends up after he mails it. We don’t know how it ends up there since the writer paid the right postage–or was he just dreaming that he paid postage? Did he even write a forwarding address?

Towards the last third of the film we feel that our hold on the film’s reality has become tenuous and anything can happen: the writer after all has been seeing people who may not really be there, and time seems to have been moving in a loop, etc.

I thought that the whole idea of a Dead Letter Section was not exploited enough. I thought it that it would be central to the film because of the film’s title. I felt a missed opportunity there and thought of several ways in which the Dead Letter Section could have been better used in the story–but then I’m not the director; I was just there to watch the film.

One of the characters, the lady smoked fish vender who hands the writer two pesos in change to allow him to pay the right postage, tells the writer, encouragingly, something like, “Okay lang kahit hindi sila maniwala sa iyo (It’s okay even if they don’t believe you)” before he mails his entry to the competition.

I don’t know if that’s useful advice to a young artist, who needs tons of belief–from himself and from others–in order to practice his art amid all the uncertainties, doubts and discouragements inevitably faced by any young artist facing poverty, ignominy and possible insanity in a society that only values TV and movie stars.

I wondered how “It’s okay even if they don’t believe you” will keep the young artist from giving up and applying for a call center job, instead.

We can’t ask the smoked-fish vender anymore because she disappeared, as in–poof!–leaving only a smoked-fish smell in the air after giving those words to the writer.

I found Felipe to be the only solid character in the film, strangely enough–but then I could be biased since the actor who plays him is Filipino-Vietnamese Roel Hoang Manipon who happens to be a poet, playwright, ficitionist and journalist as well, and who happens to be a friend from way back in college.

The film’s lead character, the Young Writer, is practically a blank slate. We see him walking across Manila’s streets and underpasses, drumming his fingers on the underpass walls–something I found icky, being familiar with the kind of grime in Manila’s underpasses, surpassed only in ickiness by the grime all over the Pasay-Libertad areas–and we wonder, is he looking for inspiration? Or do young writers simply have too much time on their hands?

Our young writer, by the way, uses a manual typewriter to write–a device that was in use when most young people today were not born yet. And yet, the final script when we see it, doesn’t look like it was typed on a manual typewriter but printed from a computer printer.

The voice-over comes back at the end of the film as the writer tries to make his way home–we learn from the voice over that he’s walking home because he wants to save money for food.

The most poetic lines in the film are uttered by the disembodied narrator in the end (it’s supposed to be an internal monologue by the writer, a device that seems to have been used to make up for the impenetrable blankness one encounters in the lead character), lines that I don’t remember exactly–but I remember having liked very much.

The lines that were uttered, in Filipino, said something about November the 16th and hunger and… I don’t know anymore. It’s not that I didn’t like “Dead Letter”–I just don’t believe it. But then maybe that’s okay.

“Lababo” (Kitchen Sink)

The first few minutes spent watching “Lababo” gave me this one-word impression: propaganda. It seemed to rehash every bile-soaked sentiment and opinion against the United States that the filmmakers could possibly throw at us.

Now, like most Filipinos, I also hate America. I hate the United States as much as every Filipino out there, who has relatives in US, who uses the Internet (a US invention); who learned and later corrupted American English; who waits for remittances from OFWs (in US dollars), who watches US TV shows on cable (legally or illegally), who pays to watch Hollywood films, who knows Joyce Kilmer (that fraud) but not the great Cirilo Bautista; and who will probably go and migrate to the US the first chance he gets.

That said, I watched “Lababo” some more and found that it wasn’t simply propaganda: it was ranting and propaganda.

That said, I will say that the University of Makati Film Society did a good job, technically, in making this film. I didn’t like how they depended on voiced-over faux radio reports to move the “story” along–there wasn’t much of a story, just a pastiche of images–but I would be the first to tell them that my views about “Lababo” should not discourage them from making more films.

Those guys know how to handle the camera, know how to compose shots, to create pacing–I just disagreed with how they chose to present their anti-American message. With a better story on their hands and the moxie and creativity to go beyond set opinions (about the US or otherwise)–watch out! These guys have potential. The Umak FilmSoc should keep on making more films–and the University should suppport them in that.

“Lababo” has participated in various film festivals and has also won awards including the Grand Prize, Viva –PBO Digitales Short Film Competition 2007.

The film was also in competiton in festivals like the 19th Gawad CCP Para sa Alternatibong Pelikula at Video; the 48th Bilbao Film Festival in Spain 2006; and the 8th International Panorama of Independent Film and Video in Greece.

It was also exhibited in the Jakarta Slingshortfest 2006 and the 8th Cinemanila International Film Festival 2006.

So, as a viewer, I may have missed something that these festival organizers and jurors saw–which is okay, as my Inner Smoked Fish Vender tells me.

“Walong Linggo” (Eight Sundays)

The way it was lit and shot, “Eight Sundays” seemed like an extended coffee commercial. More coffee house than art house, this short film is perhaps one of the most charming and endearing renditions of the Filipino male phenomenon of “ka-torpehan”.

In gist, it’s about this guy who spots a pretty young woman at a coffee shop. They see each other for eight consecutive Sundays as the guy tries to muster the courage to introduce himself to the young lady, with whom he is quite smitten.

Will he succeed before the eight Sundays are up? With generous close-ups of Jaymee Joaquin’s pretty face, you enjoy the ride.

Lead actor Joey Santos does a great job as a not really bad-looking guy who has to write his opening lines on paper napkins to figure out what to say to the girl of his dreams.

Each Sunday encounter between the torpe guy and the pretty girl is preceded by short love poems that are flashed on-screen–like dialogue flashed during the silent movie era–yes, there are no speaking lines audible in this contemporary silent film.

The poets who contributed their poetry include the venerable Benilda Santos and National Artist Bienvenido Lumbera.

This short film’s a charmer and, whether you have good or traumatic memories about young love, “Walong Linggo” is sure to linger on in your memory like a pleasant morning at the coffee shop, when all your worries seem to drift away like the steam from the espresso machine.

“Ang Kapalaran ni Virgin Mario” (The Fate of the Virgin Mario)

Mario wakes up in the apartment he shares with his lover Jose. Mario screams: Oh my God, I’m pregnant, how could this happen?!

Jose is jealous–is Mario sure the child is his? Jose convinces Mario to get an abortion.

This film by Ogi Sugatan really turns reality on its head with its minimalist, Pinoy absurdist approach.

What are we to make of this situation, where a gay man appears to have had a Not-So Immaculate Concepcion, in defiance of biology, physics and theology?

But then that’s what we all like about independent films, full-length or short: you walk out of the cinema with more than just the fading vapors of escapist fantasy; you may get insights about life, feel some genuine passion pierce your “deadma” disposition, or have an epiphany flash through your shopping-addled mind, or whatever it is that art is supposed to do to you.

Again, thanks to all those who supported our short films!

'Katorse Shorts': The long and short of it
By RAMIL DIGAL GULLE
abs-cbnNEWS.com

Watching "Katorse Shorts", an omnibus of short films produced by the Katorse Writers’ Group, "a group of young writer-filmmakers who were part of Ricky Lee’s 14th Scriptwriting Workshop"—as they describe themselves—one realizes how many films would have been better had they been shorter.

The most successful shorts in this omnibus prove that you don't need to take so much time putting your story across--and specifically I'm thinking about Richard Legaspi's "Ambulansya", one of the seven short films in the omnibus.

Too bad I learned about "Katorse Shorts" only last Friday. I watched it on Saturday and by the time you read this review, you'll only have Tuesday, June 17, to catch this compendium of independent short films before Robinson Galleria's Indie Sine pulls it out.

Still, the effort you'll put in catching this collection of short films on its last day, as well as the P101 that you'll pay for a ticket, will be more than worth it.

There are seven short films by six of these "writer-filmmakers" in the collection and it's a pity that the Indie Sine theater wasn't as packed as, say, any of the recent Hollywood or local blockbusters.

The best thing about short films like these is that they are freed of many of the usual considerations that are necessary for more commercial fare. As a result, you get a film viewing experience that actually stimulates the more important parts of your brain.

"When Love Begins" vs "Manyika"

In the Joey Reyes opus "When Love Begins" has a scene where Anne Curtis flashes a butt-cheek from out her bikini-bottom as she runs off to the beach in Boracay. Try to guess which part of your brain was buzzing when you saw that scene, huh?

And look at the pairing between Aga Muhlach and Anne Curtis: two impossibly gorgeous people in a seaside paradise setting, with both location and plot conspiring to have them either wear a) anatomy-revealing beachwear or b) fashionable outfits for an evening dinner.

As a potent piece of fantasy and visual allure, "When Love Begins" is luscious and lusty, slick and saccharine to the max. Now what was the story about, again? Oh, yeah, two people struggling toward long-term commitment.

Well, the short film "Manyika (Doll)" in "Katorse Shorts" has characters with the same problem. However, it is set in Luneta Park. The most striking thing about the lovers in "Manyika" is how ordinary they look. These aren't movie romantic leads, obviously.

The characters, in fact, dress, act and look every bit as ordinary as actual Luneta couples. The guy struggles with commitment and has a weird habit of giving the girl a stuffed toy at the end of every date.

She gets nearly one stuffed toy a day, several a week, and her room is filled with them. He struggles to explain to her why he does it, and fails.

She struggles to commit herself to the relationship, but can't stand the reality that they never go anywhere except Luneta, and she keeps getting stuffed toys from him. Worse, he could never bring himself to tell her "I love you."

One night, he gives her the biggest stuffed toy ever--she's so fed up that she throws it away. What happens next? Watch and find out.

Directed by John Wong, "Manyika" won Best Short Film at the 2006 Cinemadali Short Film Competition and was part of the official selection for the Gawad CCP para sa Alternatibong Pelikula at Bidyo.

Sacrificial dogs

The short film "Ambulansya (Ambulance)" is 15 minutes and 22 seconds long--which is surprising to learn since the narrative is so strong and so seamless, it seems to be over in one breath and one is left stunned in the end by feelings of tragedy and wonder.

Alan Paule (as Nato the ambulance driver) seems perfect for the role. The premise upon which the entire story revolves is based on a superstitious belief among Filipino ambulance drivers--or at least, among the ambulance drivers in Nato's circle.

One of these drivers mentions to Nato during a cigarette break this curious phenomenon: whenever he (Nato's fellow driver) accidentally runs over a dog, cat or some other animal as he rushes to drive a dying patient to the hospital, the patient makes it alive to the emergency room.

This driver then makes the conclusion that the life of the unfortunate animal had been "sacrificed" and serves to literally give its life-force to the dying patient.

The short film nowhere indicates how prevalent this belief is among Filipino ambulance drivers, but Nato--who laughs at the notion initially--eventually gets to test the theory later on. And what a test it is--to tell you more would ruin your viewing of this gem so we'll stop here.

Stressed-out sister

In Anna Isabelle Matutina's "Puwang" (The Space Between), a family grapples with the impending death of their ailing father.

The eldest daughter, Arlene, is married with children but has to shoulder all the expenses and responsibilities of caring for ill parent.

The youngest sibling, Anne, is pregnant and was recently abandoned by the father of her child--who is a married man. While she and Arlene are watching over their father, Anne goes into labor. This naturally places more burdens upon Arlene.

To make things worse, the father keeps calling for his favorite son, Angelo. However, he and Angleo had a falling out and the latter has not shown up for the last five years.

Just when Arlene reaches the end of her rope from all the stress and passes out on the sofa on the hospital lobby, Angelo finally appears. He proceeds to his father's room.

We'll avoid giving spoilers about "Puwang" but will only say that it succeeds in painting a gripping, emotional portrait of a Filipino family in difficulty--many if not most Filipino families in the Philippines will surely be able to relate to the plight of Arlene et al. That the film nearly falls into melodrama at some point is forgivable.

The hues of the film are all in gray, the lighting is consistent all throughout--a technical achievement as well as a success in terms of mood and atmosphere.

The only complaint I will make is in the choice of showing certain scatological elements: Angelo wiping his father's excrement off the floor of the hospital room; another scene where the camera focuses on Angelo cleaning up his father on the toilet.

My reaction as a member of the audience was perhaps natural--hey, this was shit up close on camera. Still, my question is: Was it was truly necessary for the camera to close-in on the excrement? It seemed overkill to me.

On the other hand, for a film that had been understated and restrained all throughout, maybe the scatological shots represented a kind of peak point in the film--when certain repressed, unspoken, and perhaps repellent elements, metaphorically and literally--needed to be loosed upon us.

After all, the father unleashes these elements in Angelo's presence and he is left, literally, cleaning up after the shit (literal and metaphorical) between him and his dad.

There's a brief but terrifying moment, right before Angelo approaches his father, when the son locks the door--shutting himself in with his father. One wonders, in a panic, whether Angelo has more sinister plans for his dad.

Is Angelo going to put his father out of his misery by suffocating him with a pillow? Is Angelo out for vengeance over the still unrevealed conflict with his father? Or is he after forgiveness and reconciliation?

The film's ending is no surprise and is actually quite deflating--but then perhaps that just adds to making one's sense of relief and loss more acute at the conclusion of "Puwang".

"Dead Letter"

Things got boring for me in "Dead Letter". I found "Dead Letter" to be much too talky and static in too many parts. I loved the opening shot, though, with images of pages from letters flipping, flappin and falling, the crisp, crackling sound of paper very audible, inspiring a nostalgic mood.

I just couldn't relate to the main character, who is a writer struggling to finish a script in time for a competition's deadline. The introspections the writer goes through--which we are made privy to thanks to voice-overs--seem unengaging to me now at my age.

Maybe when I was in college there was a point when such thoughts seemed profound or important, but now come off as rather juvenile.

There were good scenes though. Like when a character, Felipe, from the writer's script comes to life and confront's the latter. Felipe is angry and even threatens the writer, "Papatayin kita! (I will kill you!)". As the film progresses, you hope the character makes good on his promise.

There are scenes and locations that would be nostalgic to anybody who spent his youth in Manila. The shots of the Central Post Office--which processes mail for the entire country--were very compeling. We see postal workers working with thousands upon thousands of snail mail--yes, snail mail still exists, folks, despite the Initernet. We wonder what those workers would do in case an anthrax-laced letter comes in.

Of course, we zoom into the Dead Letter Section, which is where the writer's script ends up after he mails it. We don't know how it ends up there since the writer paid the right postage--or was he just dreaming that he paid postage? Did he even write a forwarding address?

Towards the last third of the film we feel that our hold on the film's reality has become tenuous and anything can happen: the writer after all has been seeing people who may not really be there, and time seems to have been moving in a loop, etc.

I thought that the whole idea of a Dead Letter Section was not exploited enough. I thought it that it would be central to the film because of the film's title. I felt a missed opportunity there and thought of several ways in which the Dead Letter Section could have been better used in the story--but then I'm not the director; I was just there to watch the film.

One of the characters, the lady smoked fish vender who hands the writer two pesos in change to allow him to pay the right postage, tells the writer, encouragingly, something like, "Okay lang kahit hindi sila maniwala sa iyo (It's okay even if they don't believe you)" before he mails his entry to the competition.

I don't know if that's useful advice to a young artist, who needs tons of belief--from himself and from others--in order to practice his art amid all the uncertainties, doubts and discouragements inevitably faced by any young artist facing poverty, ignominy and possible insanity in a society that only values TV and movie stars.

I wondered how "It's okay even if they don't believe you" will keep the young artist from giving up and applying for a call center job, instead.

We can't ask the smoked-fish vender anymore because she disappeared, as in--poof!--leaving only a smoked-fish smell in the air after giving those words to the writer.

I found Felipe to be the only solid character in the film, strangely enough--but then I could be biased since the actor who plays him is Filipino-Vietnamese Roel Hoang Manipon who happens to be a poet, playwright, ficitionist and journalist as well, and who happens to be a friend from way back in college.

The film's lead character, the Young Writer, is practically a blank slate. We see him walking across Manila's streets and underpasses, drumming his fingers on the underpass walls--something I found icky, being familiar with the kind of grime in Manila's underpasses, surpassed only in ickiness by the grime all over the Pasay-Libertad areas--and we wonder, is he looking for inspiration? Or do young writers simply have too much time on their hands?

Our young writer, by the way, uses a manual typewriter to write--a device that was in use when most young people today were not born yet. And yet, the final script when we see it, doesn't look like it was typed on a manual typewriter but printed from a computer printer.

The voice-over comes back at the end of the film as the writer tries to make his way home--we learn from the voice over that he's walking home because he wants to save money for food.

The most poetic lines in the film are uttered by the disembodied narrator in the end (it's supposed to be an internal monologue by the writer, a device that seems to have been used to make up for the impenetrable blankness one encounters in the lead character), lines that I don't remember exactly--but I remember having liked very much.

The lines that were uttered, in Filipino, said something about November the 16th and hunger and... I don't know anymore. It's not that I didn't like "Dead Letter"--I just don't believe it. But then maybe that's okay.

"Lababo" (Kitchen Sink)

The first few minutes spent watching "Lababo" gave me this one-word impression: propaganda. It seemed to rehash every bile-soaked sentiment and opinion against the United States that the filmmakers could possibly throw at us.

Now, like most Filipinos, I also hate America. I hate the United States as much as every Filipino out there, who has relatives in US, who uses the Internet (a US invention); who learned and later corrupted American English; who waits for remittances from OFWs (in US dollars), who watches US TV shows on cable (legally or illegally), who pays to watch Hollywood films, who knows Joyce Kilmer (that fraud) but not the great Cirilo Bautista; and who will probably go and migrate to the US the first chance he gets.

That said, I watched "Lababo" some more and found that it wasn't simply propaganda: it was ranting and propaganda.

That said, I will say that the University of Makati Film Society did a good job, technically, in making this film. I didn't like how they depended on voiced-over faux radio reports to move the "story" along--there wasn't much of a story, just a pastiche of images--but I would be the first to tell them that my views about "Lababo" should not discourage them from making more films.

Those guys know how to handle the camera, know how to compose shots, to create pacing--I just disagreed with how they chose to present their anti-American message. With a better story on their hands and the moxie and creativity to go beyond set opinions (about the US or otherwise)--watch out! These guys have potential. The Umak FilmSoc should keep on making more films--and the University should suppport them in that.

"Lababo" has participated in various film festivals and has also won awards including the Grand Prize, Viva –PBO Digitales Short Film Competition 2007.

The film was also in competiton in festivals like the 19th Gawad CCP Para sa Alternatibong Pelikula at Video; the 48th Bilbao Film Festival in Spain 2006; and the 8th International Panorama of Independent Film and Video in Greece.

It was also exhibited in the Jakarta Slingshortfest 2006 and the 8th Cinemanila International Film Festival 2006.

So, as a viewer, I may have missed something that these festival organizers and jurors saw--which is okay, as my Inner Smoked Fish Vender tells me.

"Walong Linggo" (Eight Sundays)

The way it was lit and shot, "Eight Sundays" seemed like an extended coffee commercial. More coffee house than art house, this short film is perhaps one of the most charming and endearing renditions of the Filipino male phenomenon of "ka-torpehan".

In gist, it's about this guy who spots a pretty young woman at a coffee shop. They see each other for eight consecutive Sundays as the guy tries to muster the courage to introduce himself to the young lady, with whom he is quite smitten.

Will he succeed before the eight Sundays are up? With generous close-ups of Jaymee Joaquin's pretty face, you enjoy the ride.

Lead actor Joey Santos does a great job as a not really bad-looking guy who has to write his opening lines on paper napkins to figure out what to say to the girl of his dreams.

Each Sunday encounter between the torpe guy and the pretty girl is preceded by short love poems that are flashed on-screen--like dialogue flashed during the silent movie era--yes, there are no speaking lines audible in this contemporary silent film.

The poets who contributed their poetry include the venerable Benilda Santos and National Artist Bienvenido Lumbera.

This short film's a charmer and, whether you have good or traumatic memories about young love, "Walong Linggo" is sure to linger on in your memory like a pleasant morning at the coffee shop, when all your worries seem to drift away like the steam from the espresso machine.

"Ang Kapalaran ni Virgin Mario" (The Fate of the Virgin Mario)

Mario wakes up in the apartment he shares with his lover Jose. Mario screams: Oh my God, I'm pregnant, how could this happen?!

Jose is jealous--is Mario sure the child is his? Jose convinces Mario to get an abortion.

This film by Ogi Sugatan really turns reality on its head with its minimalist, Pinoy absurdist approach.

What are we to make of this situation, where a gay man appears to have had a Not-So Immaculate Concepcion, in defiance of biology, physics and theology?

But then that's what we all like about independent films, full-length or short: you walk out of the cinema with more than just the fading vapors of escapist fantasy; you may get insights about life, feel some genuine passion pierce your "deadma" disposition, or have an epiphany flash through your shopping-addled mind, or whatever it is that art is supposed to do to you.

Não sei se este foi o problema realmente, mas é muito comum na região, principalmente na Av. Álvaro Ramos, os motoristas abusarem da velocidade. Por sorte não aconteceu nada de grave.

Por cierto, sabeis que el 85% de las aspirinas de todo el mundo se producen en Asturias y que se consumen 2.500 cada segundo? Después de saber ésto seguro que hoy os ireis más tranquilos a la cama :)

Desde que estoy en Madrid no ha pasado ni un solo día en el que no vea una ambulancia, coche de policía o camión de bomberos con las sirenas encendidas, esto me ha llevado a encontrar una manera muy fácil de saber si la gente que va por la calle es de Madrid o no, a un madrileño le da igual que pasen por su lado 50 ambulancias una detrás de otra con las sirenas encendidas acompañadas de otros 50 coches de policía también con la sirena puesta, ellos van a su bola y no se molestan en girar la cabeza para ver qué puede estar pasando, mientras que el resto de personas normales se giran, como es lóógico para ver qué pasa.

Y otra cosa curiosa sobre Madrid, sabéis que aquí no saben qué son las rosquilletas? El otro día me compré una bolsa de rosquilletas con pipas y cuando pregunté si álguien quería rosquilletas me vinieron a contestar algo del estilo de "lo cuálo??".

Pero en pleno auge de la fiesta, y cuando ya estábamos por la mitad del alcohol ingerido, sucedió una catástrofe, una tragedia sin igual y que destrozó totalmente nuestras almas, por lo menos destrozó las almas de las personas que la tenían, como pueden ser IBB y el Colillas. Y es que el malvado Txetxu entró armado con una escopeta en mi casa y nos secuestró. Por pura envidia, creo yo.

Yo siempre he dicho que ese hombre tiene que estar loco, pero nunca pensé que llegaría a tales actos, a pesar de que me odia a muerte y yo no entiendo el porqué. Yo nunca he destrozado sus fiestas, hasta le he invitado a comer, si bien un día tuvimos unos pequeños desencuentros. Desde entonces, hemos iniciado una pequeña lucha entre nosotros. Pero nunca pensé que esto desembocaría aquí.

Suerte que alguien llamó a la policía, luego nos enteramos que fue Txetxu mismo, para denunciarlos por armar un escándalo sin igual, lo que era totalmente falso, ya que solamente teníamos cinco aparatos de radio a todo volumen. Y cuando llegaron a nuestra puerta y oyeron un disparo, pidieron refuerzos.

Pronto se pusieron en contacto con nosotros, llamando al fijo de mi casa. Txetxu cogió ese teléfono, lo que me molestó enormemente pero no podía hacer nada porque me apuntaba con esa escopeta, y entonces comentó sus pretensiones para liberar los rehenes sin matarlos. Quería que destruyeron todo el alcohol del mundo, que se destruyeron las fábricas de alcohol de todo el mundo, que fusilaran a su ex mujer Paca y que le perdonarán todas sus deudas. De lo contrario, a cada minuto mataría una botella de alcohol arrojándola por la ventana.

Y cumplió su promesa con al menos cinco botellas. Todo el mundo estaba en la calle asustado, pero nosotros aún más porque esas botellas eran como parte de nosotros, estaba matando nuestras vidas a cada botella que oíamos estallar en pedazos. La crueldad que estaban presenciando nuestros ojitos de borrachos era tal que preferimos perder nuestras vidas a soportar esa tortura.

Y nos enfrentamos al malvado Txetxu que con la escopeta nos apuntaba. Cuando nos vio levantarnos, cogió y se preparó, dejando caer otra botella en el suelo, y me apuntó con la escopeta a la cabeza. Yo no tenía miedo a morir, sino que quería vengarme de lo que les había hecho a la esas pobres e inocentes botellas que no habían hecho nada malo en su vida.

Me disparó, y su disparo habría acertado en toda mi cabeza haciéndola estallar en pedazos y sembrando mi precioso salón de sesos de borracho, mientras la moqueta se llenaría de sangre vertida por la herida que habría abierto, de no ser porque el muy zopenco había olvidado cargar la escopeta. Tan sólo salió un ruido como de sarcasmos del cañón de la escopeta mientras que yo saltaba y atrapaba a ese miserable, a ese ser celestial que había venido a destrozar mi noche de gloria.

No se lo llevó a la policía, sino una ambulancia. Luego, a la cárcel.

A algumas horas atrás  eu estava sentado em um ponto de ônibus,  e vi um motoqueiro passar por mim, logo atrás dele veio um carro a uns 100km/h e bateu no fundo da moto, o homem foi arremessado da moto e caiu a uns 2 metros de mim, o carro não parou. Não havia mais ninguém no ponto e nenhum outro carro passando pela rua, o homem gritava - socorro, socorro, não consigo respirar - eu não soube como reagir, corri até ele e pedir para que tivesse calma, liguei para 193 e pedi uma ambulância,  e tentei acalmá-lo, não sei qual de nos 2 estávamos mais aterrorizados, não pensem que é fácil tentar passar calma para alguém nessas circunstancias, ele gritando de dor e eu sem poder fazer nada.

O que mais me chocou não foi o carro não ter parado para ajudar, o que não seria mais que sua obrigação, afinal foi ele mesmo o culpado da batida. O problema era que os outros carros que passavam pela rua após o acidente - e foram muitos - apenas abaixavam o vidro e reduziam a velocidade, só queriam saber o que havia acontecido, ninguém se deu ao trabalho de parar e vir ajudar o homem. Penso o que teria acontecido com o coitado se eu não estivesse lá.

Por: Rodrigo

Ontem estava eu andando na rua quando me lembrei daqueles famosissimos vídeos do Youtube, daqueles em que as pessoas fazem uma "bomba" usando Mentos e Coca-cola. Então, ao passar na frente de uma padaria aqui perto de casa eu tive a brilhante idéia de fazer tal experiência, então logo já providenciei o material. =3

ASHAUSHSAUASHAUuaHSUS
AHSuahusAHSiUAsiuAIUASH :twisted:

Pois então, pra quem não sabe como fabricar tal "bomba" aqui vai o manual, pois apesar de fácil de ser feito, isso deve ser manuseado COM MUITO CUIDADO, POIS PRESTEM BEM A ATENÇÃO: ESSA PORRA FERROU MINHA VIDA.

Não sei se eu devia estar publicando isso...

Então, mas até aí eu não tinha noção nenhuma do perigo. Eu inocentemente fiz tal fórmula e fui na rua para brincar com isso, era mágico. Rendeu muitas risadas.

E já vai lá!!!

Olhei para os lados, vi a rua vazia e então eu joguei a garrafa no chão com tudo, como fazem nos vídeos da internet mesmo.

NOSSA *____*
MAGIA PURA!

Essa foi minha primeira garrafa na vida, foi muitíssimo foda. Então eu já estava preparado para um segundo lançamento com outra garrafa.

Fui olhar para os lados para ver se a rua estava ainda estava vazia. Porém quando eu me viro eu vejo uma coisa linda :love: uma cocotinha lvl. 96+ skill vindo em minha direção.

Não tive dúvidas.

Joguei a garrafa com mais força ainda para a impressionar. :oops:

NOOOOESS!!!

Porém com o lançamento a tampinha da garrafa voou com tudo. Minha vida é uma bosta mesmo! Advinhem para onde aquela tambinha de m#rd@ voou? Sim! Bem no rosto da guria. :-x

Coitada meys! :-(

Sabia que eu não poderia ficar lá, já que eu poderia ser até preso, já com a fuga em mente eu tomei uma decisão. Com a rua vazia e impossibilitado de tomar qualquer outra ação com a garota inconsciente eu não tive opção. Liguei e chamei uma ambulância.

Alguém aí sabia que o telefone
para chamar ambulâncias é 192?

Antes de sair, ao observar o celular em minha mão eu tive uma brilhante idéia.

Maldita hora!

Ao ver o rostinho daquela cocotinha no chão, sabia que dificilmente eu teria alguma chance com uma garota de tamanha beleza. Então com essa idéia eu teoricamente e possivelmente teria alguma chance de falar com ela quando ela melhorasse. Na hora me pareceu uma idéia típica de comédias românticas, então não tive dúvidas e a executei.

Sim! É isso mesmo que você está vendo!
Mas juro que na hora pareceu uma boa idéia!!

Escrevi o telefone de minha casa na tampinha que retirei do rosto dela.
Não desenharei o rosto dela. Seriam imagens muito pesadas e o Wordpress não aceita gore.

E logo depois eu coloquei a tampinha
no boso da calça dela

Depois disso fui embora. Um dia se passou e não consegui tirá-la da minha cabeça, quando era hoje de manhã, por volta de umas 9h recebo uma ligação! :love:

Ahá! Será que o plano funcionou!?

Sim! Aquele voz linda só podia ser dela!!

Oi amor...

Porém é aí que está a maior cagada de todas. Ela perguntou quem era.

Falei que era o carinha da Coca.

Foi aí que descobri que até a voz mais suave
pode proferir as palavras mais duras :-(

Caras, tô desesperado agora.

Ela me disse que o pai dela vai quebrar minha cara, pois com o número de minha casa a coisa mais fácil do mundo é ele olhar no guia telefônico e descobrir onde moro. Estou considerando seriamente me mudar para a casa de minha tia por algum tempo.

Ou talvez ir para a Colômbia ou o Chile , onde com certeza me sentirei mais seguro.

Por favor feras, me ajudem nessa difícil situação que estou passando. :cry:

"Nunca pensei que isso fosse acontecer comigo"

Resumo:

Fui fazer uma "bomba" mentos + coca, o negócio estorou e a tampinha voou no olho de uma cocota. Dei meu telefone para ela enquanto ela estava inconsciente e agora o pai dela quer ferrar minha vida para sempre.

DIA SI I DIA NO HAY MUCHAS RECLAMACIONES POR EL MAL FUNCIONAMIENTO DEL SERVICIO SANITARIO DE LA COMUNIDAD VALENCIANA

ESTO ESTA NARADO POR UN CONDUCTOR CAMILLERO QUE VE EL DIA A DIA COMO VAMOS A PEOR .HACE DOS AÑOS TUVIMOS LA DESGRACIA DE

DE TENER UN ACCIDENTE DE MULTIPLES VICTIMAS  EN VALENCIA ,EN EL METRO DE LA LINEA NUMERO 1 (ESTACION DE JESUS )AL CUAL

LOS SERVICIOS SANITARIOS TARDARON MAS DE 10 MINUTOS EN MONTAR LA ( A.M.V ) ATENCION MULTIPLES VICTIMAS O COMO QUIERAN

QUE LO DIGAMOS EL HOSPITAL DE CAMPAÑA CREO QUE VALENCIA NO ESTA PREPARADA PARA AGUANTAR UN ATENTADO DE ETA O UN CATASTROFE

NATURAL  COMO VENGO DICIENDO EN LA COMUNIDAD VALENCIANA NO HAY VASTANTES RECURSOS SANITARIOS YA QUE SEGUN EL CONSELLER DE

SANIDAD DICE QUE CADA 20.000 HABITANTES DEVE DE HAVER UN SVB  (SOPORTE VITAL BASICO ) I DE CADA 30.000 HABITANTES DEVE DE

HAVER UN S.A.M.U.  SERVICIO DE AYUDA URGENTE MEDICA  EL CUAL QUE RECALCAR QUE BENIDORM UN CIUDAD COSTERA CON MAS DE 100.000

TURISTAS AL AÑO SOLO TIENE UN SAMU DISPONIBLE PARA TODA LA CIUDAD ESTO ME PARECE INFRAUMANO .. YA QUE CADA DIA HAY MAS IMIGRANTES

I TURISTAS EN NUSTRAS CIUDADES VALENCIANAS .

1 EJEMPLO VIVIDO POR MI :  FALLAS 2008 DIA 19 POR LA NOCHE VALENCIA UN HERVIDERO DE GENTE DE TODOS LOS RINCONES DE ESPAÑACON UNA VISITA DE MAS DE 1 BILLON I MEDIO DE TURISTAS EN VALENCIA CAPITAL  ..PELEAS ,ACCIDENTES,GENTE EBRIA .UN FIN DE URGENCIAS

EN FIESTAS EL CENTRO DE INFORMACION I CORDINACION DE URGENCIAS DE LA COMUNIDAD VALENCIANA ( CICU)  RECIVIO MAS DE 500 LLAMADAS

AL CUAL NO PUDO ASUMIR TODA SU REPONSAVILIDAD  DE ASITENCIA SANITARIA   Y TUVO QUE DERIVAR LAS URGENCIAS A CRUZ ROJA ESPAÑOLA

VALENCIA SOLO CON ESTE ECHO YA UVIERON DEMORAS PARA LA URGENCIAS  SANITARIAS , APARTE DE TODO ESTO HAY QUE PENSAR QUE SI HAY DIAS

COTIDIANOS NOS QUEDAMOS SIN RECURSOS YA QUE LA POBLACION HA CRECIDO I NOSOTROS SEGUIMOS IGUAL MENOS AMBULANCIAS PARA MAS URGENCIAS

ESTO ES LO PRIMERO QUE SE ME HA PASADO POR LA CABEZA HIREMOS PONIENDO MAS SUCEDOS I MAS EXPERIENCIAS

OTRO EJEMPLO : VESTUARIO DE LA GENTE DEL SAMUR DE MADRID TODOS UNIFORMADOS I CON SUS CASCOS I PROTECTORES

POR EN VALENCIA SOMOS TAN DIFERENTES QUE CADA UNO VAMOS  VESTIDOS DEL UNIFORME DE NUESTRA EMPRESA

EL SERVICIO DEL SAMU SI QUE ESTAN TODOS UNIFORMADOS I VAN TODOS IGUAL BOTAS DE SEGURIDAD CASCOS GAFAS ETC

EL VESTURIO DE DEL SVB ES MUY DIFERENTE CREO QUE DEVERIAMOS TENER TODAS LAS EMPRESAS EL MISMO VESTUARIO COMO EL

SAMU DE VALENCIA ,, EL CAMILLERO O TECNICO DE EMERGENCIAS SANITARIAS .  SOLEMOS LLEVAR EL PANTALON AZUL OSCURO CON

DOS REFLECTANTES I UN SUETER BLANCO COMO  EL DE AUTONOMAS O NARANJA COM EL DE AMBULANCIAS LA PEÑA O PODEMOS PONER EL

EJEMPLO DE AMBULANCIAS AYUDA QUE VAN TODOS DE ROJO I GRIS QUIERO REVENDICAR ESTO POR AMI. UN DIA ME LLEGARON A CONFUNCIR

CON EL SEÑOR DE MANTENIMIENTO ESTO ES UNA COSA MUY INPORTANTE DEVERIAMOS UNIFICARNOS TODOS EN EL VESTUARIO LAVORAL

I TENER TODOS ZAPATOS DE PROTECCION CASCOS  GAFAS  ETC ,,,,   AL IGUAL QUE DAN UNA IMAGEN DE QUE PARECEN TODOS LOS VEHICULOS DE LA MISMA EMPRESA

ESTO NO ES CIERTO ,SI QUIEREN DAR BUENA IMAGEN AL CIUDADANO QUE TAMBIEN LA DEN EN EL VESTUARIO LABORAL ,MUCHOS COMPAÑEROS MIOS SE QUEGEN DE

DE ESTA CITUACION ES UNA COSA QUE DEVERIAMOS TENER EN CUANTA

Me decicí, para no alejarme de Lima, hacer el SERUM en el "Cuerpo General de Bomberos Voluntarios del Peru". Una de las mejores experiencias de mi vida. Debo decir que el cuerpo de bomberos de la bomba 7 me acogió como un rey. Era admirable ver como la Compañia realizaba sus labores y se distribuian las guardias para que siempre la ambulancia esté disponible a cubrir cualquier urgencia. Me entusiasmaba contar con gente tan bien preparada y los equipos que estaban siempre listos para cubrir a gente en desgracia. Al sonido de la alarma saliamos para cubrir las necesidades mas diversas y los cursos de PHTLS que nos impartian nos daba una mejor preparación. La mayoria de urgencias que cubriamos eran accidentes, crisis asmáticas, traumas. Nunca pude salir a un incendio porque no se presentó la oportunidad pero seguro la hubiera pasado mal porque soy asmático...en fin. La pasé fenomenal y agradezco todo el apoyo que me dio el cuerpo para formarme en primeros auxilios y PHTLS. En españa el SAMUR es quien se encarga de hacer las labores médicas lo cual implica un mayor nivel de especialización, dificilmente imitable en Perú.

“Ambulancia” a short film which tells of a painful twist in an ambulance driver’s belief that a dying patient can be saved by running over stray animals on the streets.

Director: Richard Soriano Legaspi

Assistant Directors: Anna Isabelle Matutina and Jules Katanyag

Script: Richard Soriano Legaspi

Cinematographer: Albert Banzon

Music: Pam Miras

Editing: Anna Isabelle Matutina

Production Designers: Grace Orbon, Sonja Completo, Benay Reyes

Sound: Anna Isabelle Matutina

Production Manager: Seymour Barros – Sanchez and Pam Miras

Producers: Richard Soriano Legaspi , Anna Isabelle Matutina and Eloisa Espino-Sanchez

ACTORS: Alan Paule, Nor Domingo, Wilmae Soriano and Evelyn Cruz

SCREENING / FESTIVAL / AWARDS

In Competition, 32nd Open Air Filmfest Weiterstadt in Germany 2008

In Competition, International Panorama of Independent Films in Patras, Greece 2008

In Competition, Naoussa International Film Festival in Greece, 2008

Official Selection, Pyongyang International Film Festival in North Korea, 2008

Winner, Grand Prize, Viva-PBO Digitales Short Film Competition, 2008

Winner, Best Short Narrative, Quisumbing-Escandor Film Festival, 2008

Official Selection, CineVita Film Festival, Manila 2008

Special Screening, AFA Fellows Night Screening in Busan, South Korea 2007

Official Selection, Cinemanila International Film Festival 2007

www.ambulanciapelicula.wordpress.com

Uma ambulância de uma empresa de transportes de doentes de Ervideira, Coimbrão, Leiria, foi esta manhã abalroada por um comboio em Monte Redondo, a norte de Leiria, provocando quatro mortos.

O CDOS de Leiria disse que três dos corpos foram projectados para fora da ambulância e a autarca de Monte Redondo, Maria Espadinha, já tinha dito que havia partes de três corpos ao longo da linha.

De acordo com a autarca, a ambulância terá atravessado a linha “com as cancelas fechadas”. No local estão elementos dos Bombeiros Voluntários de Leiria e da Ortigosa.

O acidente ocorreu cerca das 10h00, numa passagem de nível, estando a circulação interrompida até às 13h30, informou a CP. O comboio circulava no sentido norte-sul, com duas composições, e transportava 13 passageiros que foram transferidos para um autocarro.

Psicólogos vão apoiar família

Psicólogos do Instituto Nacional de Emergência Médica (INEM) vão apoiar os familiares das vítimas do acidente, disse o segundo comandante distrital de operações de socorro, Carlos Guerra, tendo sido já deslocada uma equipa para o local do acidente.

As vítimas da colisão foram a condutora da viatura, com cerca de 30 anos, e elementos de uma família da Praia do Pedrógão – pai (cerca de 70 anos), mãe (cerca de 60) e filha (cerca de 30), também de acordo com Carlos Guerra.

El caso es que vi una furgoneta del PP aparcada en una entrada para ambulancias y a una de estas tratando de entrar para atender a un anciano que había sufrido un infarto. Corrí a retirar la furgoneta mientras el del PP daba caramelos altos en azúcar a unos niños diabéticos, y de repente sentí como si algo penetrara dentro de mí. Acelere y me perdí en la distancia. 

Lo primero que hice fue subir a todo volumen los altavoces para destrozar los tímpanos de las personas, y luego busque un CD en la guantera que tenia el cara al sol y lo puse para que todo mundo comprendiera nuestras fascistas intenciones. De esa manera, circulaba como un loco y saltándome todos los semáforos como un buen pepero. 

En esta que vi una oportunidad de acercarme a los ciudadanos, y allí por medio de una calle peatonal metí la furgoneta. Pero como los ciudadanos huían del PP, decidí que había que empezar a perseguirlos e intentan atropellarlos, sin éxito lamentablemente. Seguramente votarían al PSOE y nosotros los del PP no podríamos tener dictadura. 

Pues nada, estaba muy enojado y de repente veo un coche de esos que promocionan al PSOE. Mi rabia subió hasta el extremo, poseído por la furgoneta porque desde luego yo cada vez que uno de sus coches me pongo a hacerles reverencias, y aprovechando que la furgoneta era grande y pesada empecé a darle golpes hasta que el coche echó humillo, y mientras el pobre socialista salía huyendo, el coche reventaba.  

Lamentablemente, esto había llamado la atención de la policía municipal, que empezó a perseguirme sin ninguna razón, porque yo lo que estaba haciendo era limpiar la ciudad de basura. Pero como buen pepero que era por posesión, comprendía claramente los resortes que tenía la furgoneta para este tipo de casos. Por una furgoneta del PP es una máquina de matar, preparada para fastidiar a todo el mundo y destrozar las vidas de todas las personas. Igualito que el partido. 

Lo que hice fue tirar de una palanca y de repente las puertas traseras se abrieron, y miles de bolígrafos salieron disparados como flechas y que el coche patrulla logró esquivar, no así un autobús urbano que quedó hecho un colador. Pero aún quedaba la segunda parte del numerito, que consistía en tocar otro botón. Y entonces todos los caramelos que estaban apilados salieron disparados y esta vez sí le dieron de lleno al coche patrulla, que empezó a hacer zigzag hasta que se chocó contra otro coche aparcado, volcó y explotó, provocando la explosión sucesiva de una veintena de coches que estaban aparcados. Me bajé, iba a hacer un corte de mangas cuando de repente sufrí una especie de desmayo involuntario. 

Y es que al salir de esa furgoneta maldita, una furgoneta de psicópatas ideada por psicópatas y para promocionar psicópatas, deje de estar poseído y volví a ser la persona socialista que he sido siempre. Estaba preparado para pegarle una patada a la furgoneta cuando esta arrancó y salió pitando, sin conductor alguno. 

He comprobado que del lado del PP está el mal. Pero no el de Satanás, sino uno mucho peor. El mal supremo. Aquello está por encima del mal.

TU MOMENTO ZAPATERO. DISFRUTALO. VOTA PSOE, TU OPCION POR EL PROGRESO.

http://mamarrachi.wordpress.com/tu-momento-zapatero/

1ª Episódio

Ele morreu?

2º Episódio

Así que, si no quiero ir a un calabozo, he de pasear por mi mente y recordar cosas terribles para otras personas. Mi tarea era escribir el nombre de esas personas, localizarlas y pedirles perdón por todo.

Tendré que disculparme con Txetxu, pedir perdón al que le robe la lotería, y a muchos más, en un historial gamberril que se remonta hasta cuando era niño y baje en el parque la falda a mi niñera, una monjita jovenzuela. Total, que en el trabajo me puse a escribir la lista de nombres.- mi jefe, extrañado por verme usar el ordenador, me dijo que estaba orgulloso de verme trabajar después de tantos años en la oficina. Y en cuanto se dio la vuelta, saque mi colococo y me puse a tomar el sol, pues ahora, provisionalmente, curramos en la azotea.

La lista comprende más de trescientos folios. Encontrarlos será difícil, pero pedirles perdón imposible. A algunos si, los más cercanos, así que he ido donde Txetxu, he llamado a su puerta con un Jack daniels reserva de regalo y me ha abierto la misma chica que le “visito” el día de nuestra venganza. Sin conocerme, me dejo entrar, y mientras esperaba, me puse a jugar con unas figuras de porcelana, que se me cayeron accidentalmente sobre una vitrina con cristales de bohemia. Antes de que Txetxu saliera, ya estaba huyendo escaleras abajo.

Pensé que mi futuro seria tras los barrotes si no me firmaban los recibos de que me había disculpado. Empecé a falsificarlos, pero al llegar al tres mil ochocientos dos, lo deje por imposible.

Fue entonces cuando decidí suplicarle al terapist que no me mandara al calabozo, donde no hay alcohol, y llame a su casa. La puerta estaba abierta, y sin dudarlo entre, pues una vez me dijo eso de tu casa es la mía, o algo así. Me lo encontré borracho, en pleno coma etílico. Así pues, llame a una ambulancia, y se lo llevaron. Yo, sin saber que hacer, registre la casa en busca de alcohol, y encontré uno de esos sellos con su firma. Cogí su ordenador, un Windows de mierda, e imprimí mi certificado de haber pasado la tercera fase. Lo selle y listos.

Corrí hasta la oficina donde se gestionan estos tramites para lograr mi diploma de recompensa. Con el en la mano, y lo despistado que es mi terapist, desde luego nadie se daría cuenta del engaño. Me sentía como un campeón, cometiendo mi maldad. Jeje, y lo mejor de todo es que nadie se va a enterar de este chanchullo. Nadie, queridos lectores que conocéis casi todos los detalles de mi vida. Este episodio que os cuento nunca saldrá a la luz.

Atentamente, Mamarrachi Legarda. Un abrazo para mi Kay.

Vitoria, 19 de enero de 2007

Cinco franciskaner, trece chupitos de absenta verde.