The Letter I Would Love To Read To You In Person
As this letter to his beloved in Slovenia displays, his relationship with local cinema is still very much like a long-distance love affair.
My Dear Nika,
I’ve been asked to write a column for this issue of Rogue, and the topic given to me was myself. I’ve always felt it awkward to write in public spaces about personal motivations behind the work I choose to do, so I have decided to use you as an excuse: there are things that you must know, that you may sense but not understand unless I tell you, and so I shall use this opportunity to put them on paper.
Besides, how could I say no to this offer when just the other day you recalled how an essay that was written by the solicitor of this column—in a previous incarnation of this magazine—played a central role in our being together? One must pay back one’s debts . . .
When we met in Rotterdam last January there was something about you that struck me immediately. It was not your beauty, or rather, not just your beauty, but your manner of speaking: which now sixteen months later still demands so much of me. There is a precious intensity in your gestures, the way in which your eyes dart and hands reach out to grab the right word, that illustrates how strong a desire you have to communicate, especially when the conversation turns toward the things that matter to you—the integrity of your work, the importance of nature, the concern for your brother. (I know what you’re thinking—shut up! I’m not a native speaker!—but this isn’t a question of familiarity with language.)
We both did not arrive at the festival in the best of conditions: you in ill health and from the disappointment of not closing the latest issue of Ekran before leaving Slovenia (compounded by you missing your flight and multiplied by a year’s fatigue of battling for editorial independence) and I from the solitude of learning to live alone, and of not yet having come to terms with the abrupt death of my father seven months before (something which, as you know, I am still attempting to do).
I wasn’t in a very good place the months before we met, reckless and hurried in my interactions with new acquaintances, but in Rotterdam it was hard not to fight for clarity and calm when the person before you, beleaguered and weary as they were, would still refuse to let their words slip carelessly . . .
I know sometimes you may think that it was the fact that we worked in the same field that attracted me to you, but I must tell you that this couldn’t be farther from the truth. Why? Because one of the greatest joys I believe one can feel is to share that which they find beautiful with someone who otherwise wouldn’t have noticed it, and to see it appreciated. This is the main reason why I love teaching and why I refuse to show Lord of the Rings to my students (no matter how fervently my co-teachers insist). It is also the evidence that cinema isn’t what brings us nearer to each other: because in this regard, we are on equal footing, and I must instead find other things in me to share with you. For anyone who knows me, they know how difficult that is . . .
Does a place mean more than a person? Does my work in the Philippines mean more than the possibility of a life with you, somewhere, anywhere else?
But Rogue wants to hear about cinema! Or at least about my work and what I have done in it. Why it means so much to me, and why I have done the things that I have. So it is about cinema that I must write! Some of this may seem like things you have heard, my dear Nika, but don’t worry, if I am successful it will all come together in the end, and you will see why it relates to you, to us, and to the future.
Allow me to begin with a story, one of which you may be quite familiar.
In 1997, my father decided that my brother Chris and I, together with my mother, should return to the Philippines (my father as you know had been going back and forth between Manila and Vancouver, never growing quite comfortable in Canada. Remind me to make you a copy of the essay “Where’s the patis?”).
We had moved to Canada in 1983, leaving the Philippines just a few months before the death of Ninoy Aquino and just a few months after my second birthday.
Like most teenagers, I was still growing comfortable in my own skin, or rather trying to, and the thought of moving to another country for my last two years of High School petrified me. I resisted: on one hand, I protested to my parents that I wanted nothing to do with a country that was so class conscious and so corrupt (though I didn’t mind going there for vacation . . . ), and on the other hand, inside, I just didn’t want to deal with attempting to infiltrate ill-fated High School social circles in a new country. I was also completely devastated about having to leave the first girl I ever slow danced with in my high school life—Melodie Pangan—who I’m sure never thought of me as anything more than a friend, but who I still called dramatically from the airport, in tears, telling her I loved her for the first time. But I digress . . .
My father seduced my brother and I with the promise of round-the-clock air conditioning and a driver to take us wherever we wanted, which admittedly made the move easier to take (so much for my 16-year old defiance of class consciousness). Both of which, as it turned, were just selling points: things he was able, but unwilling, to provide.
As you know, we are five children in my family, but only Chris and I, together with my Mom, moved back. The primary excuse for it being just he and I was that we were the two youngest, and since Chris was just preparing to enter College and I was finishing my last two years of High School, we would both be able to adjust easier. But the other reason was also that we were men and, as men in the Philippines, he had wanted to groom us to take over the family business, to help maintain what he had established, or build on top of it. The primary reason, I believe, for him wanting my mother to come back was so that Chris and I would. We had grown quite close to my Mom over the years in Vancouver, as my Dad was often away, and he knew that her agreeing to go was the key to being able to bring us back. On the part of my Mom, she was settled in Vancouver, she wasn’t comfortable having helpers live in the house, and was used to cooking and cleaning herself and looking after us. She moved back for him, because he asked her to.
Two years passed, and my mother moved back to Vancouver. She had been battling bouts of depression caused by their fights, by her lack of control of the family, and it was decided that she would go to Vancouver for a while for therapy. I didn’t know at the time that it would be for good, it was supposed to be for two months. She returned for the first time in 2006 for my father’s funeral.
My brother Chris never quite settled in the Philippines. One theory we have was that he never got to imbibe the culture in a manner deeper than gimmicks in Makati—and as a majority of his good friends were foreigners and he had no Tagalog classes, he didn’t learn the language much. The other possibility is that he just wasn’t used to living under my father’s watchful eye. He graduated from University in June of 2001, and by August he moved back to Vancouver.
The first impulse of any good film critic, and to this I think you would agree, must be of love.
What was left of my Dad’s dream—of keeping the family together in the Philippines and of one of his sons taking a keen interest in the business? Me. And just me. With less people living in it, the house had more space, and I no longer shared my room with anyone, but I felt more and more suffocated. Upon graduating with my studies directed towards business management, I began working for my father. I lasted from June to November of 2004 before admitting that I couldn’t do it any longer. I would tell you I quit. My father told relatives at family gatherings he fired me. Either story will do now; it doesn’t really matter.
Sender: Dad
Date: 24-04-2006
Time: 05:19:51pm
“BF 2 GF’s rich dad: I wana mari ur dauter,
Dad: Do u work?
BF: Im a theology scholar.
Dad: Can u afford a weding?
BF: God wil provide.
Dad: Wat about a haus, raising a family & education of d kids?
BF: God wil provide.
Later…Mom: How’d it go dad?
Dad: D guy’s poor, & he thinks Im God!”
Sender: Dad
Date: 24-04-2006
Time: 05:22:32pm
“BF 2 GF’s rich dad: I wana mari ur dauter,
Dad: Do u work?
BF: Im a Unvrsty Profsor nd a film critic.
Dad: Can u afford a weding?
BF: God wil provide.
Dad: Wat about a haus, raising a family & education of d kids?
BF: God wil provide.
Later…Mom: How’d it go dad?
Dad: D guy’s poor, & he thinks Im God!”
I never wanted to be a film critic. To this day I abhor using the term for myself, but I’ve begun to do so regularly, just because it makes life easier.
Many filmmakers, especially filmmakers in the Philippines, have a problem with the word critic. We have little to no culture of healthy polemics in the country, as any attempt to consider fault is taken as a personal attack. Rare are those that are able to deal with it properly. One particular filmmaker took objection to the idea of a publication that I was to edit using the title “Criticine”: he had a problem with the word critic being included. A nasty term, I suppose he thought.
The first impulse of any good film critic, and to this I think you would agree, must be of love. To be moved enough to want to share their affection for a particular work or to relate their experience so that others may be curious. This is why criticism, teaching, and curating or programming, in an ideal sense, must all go hand in hand.
The first proper review of a Filipino film that I wrote was on Lav Diaz’s Batang West Side. I knew I liked movies, had even harbored thoughts of making them at one point, and I certainly took a measure of pride in being looked to by my peers as someone whose opinion was worth seeking. But despite this, and despite the surprising satisfaction of first seeing my name in print, I never had any interest in writing film criticism in any serious way.
It was not writing the review of Batang West Side (which I was quite proud of at the time, but look at with a bit of embarrassment for its simplicity today) that changed things for me, but rather what took place before and after writing it: the complete lack of engaging, intelligent writing on the film that engaged more than just the length. (Conrado de Quiros tried, and perhaps his championing was more important than the actual text.) Batang West Side, as you now, is 5-hours long, and if you read most of the articles that I mentioned (I dare not say discussed), this would likely be all that you knew. Even Jessica Zafra, after organizing a screening of the film through her engaging-if-but-short-lived FLIP Magazine (and having commissioned an article from Lav), proceeded to make crude jokes about the film in the letters section of the succeeding issue.
I was a junior in college when the film premiered, and in the five years I had lived in the Philippines, the closest I had come to connecting with culture via cinema were a few jokes in April, May, June, a film about three sisters starring the then quite popular Alma Concepcion and maybe SPO1 Don Juan: Da Dancing Policeman, starring the great Leo Martinez. Needless to say, Batang West Side was a departure, not only in length, but in aesthetic: its rhythm, the distance from the camera to its subject, the duration in which shots were held, the construction of the discourse (equally about past as about present), and most especially in its attitude towards its audience—its stubborn refusal to give in to our inherent need for a neat ending, instead forcing us to draw our own conclusions.
I wasn’t prepared for Batang West Side. I hadn’t heard of Lav Diaz and simply attended because it was during Cinemanila, and it’s not everyday someone makes a film of that length. I was curious. The film stuck with me. Especially so as one of the first films that made me think concretely about what it meant to be Filipino, about the pitfalls of migration. Perils that, I think for the first time now as I type this, my Dad probably understood better than anyone. It’s a shame he never got to see the film.
It was now a full year after Batang West Side premiered, a good few months after I wrote the article, and still little literature was available on the film. I contacted Lav and asked if I could interview him, to which he obliged graciously. The interview ran close to an hour, and I asked him all the questions I wished others had.
Happy with the results, which ran 12 pages long and was published on the website Indiefilipino.com (may she rest in peace, how I loved her so!), I used all the prepaid credit I had to text most everyone mildly interested in cinema in my modest phonebook to plug it. Hardly any of them responded, of course, but there were notes of appreciation on Indiefilipino’s forums, and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
There were people, it turned out, who were interested in reading serious writing on serious cinema—it just had to be written and published somewhere accessible.
61 Comments on this post. Add your own comment below
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Really loved the column piece. It not only gave me a sense of hope to write more about things one loves and that is left to be discovered and keep going. And the text message is priceless.
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Incredibly inspiring letter!
I WISH all the filipinos would read this article.. And not only filipinos, all the cinephiles and film critics in the world..
And I WISH also there would be more women in cinema, not only in Philippine in any…
hugs from Argentina,
s -
your legacy lives on. i’ll be forever thankful to you for inspiring me and making me love cinema better.
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RIP Alexis. I’m glad I got to meet your brilliance and passion for Philippine Cinema first hand.
to add to your wishlist:
I wish Filipinos would be passionate about being Filipinos.
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this is exactly why you will be missed. your work changed the way I view philippine cinema. RIP, mr. tioseco.
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Who said we dont have anything worthy as a country? The irony is it had to take a friend of another land to call our attention away from the much commercialized ‘attractions’ of our neighbors before we fully appreciate and support what has already been allotted to us as a nation.
Yes, the Filipino can and has it! Our frame of thinking needs an awakening. Its is the same frame of thinking that has fettered our country for so long—-even in governance (now that elections are fast approaching) we look for ‘winnability’, ‘popularity’, and allow prejudices to govern when its has been dominating and dictating national politics for so long but wasnt recognized—- same as what Mr. Tioseco relates as the beauty and excellence we have.
Thank you and more power! -
I can’t believe that his dead already. Such a brilliant man. Gone too soon.
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I wish for the same things too dude.
RIP Alexis.
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RIP
we’ll missed u -
Gone too soon my friend, rest in peace to you and your gf..
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love brotha!!! love!!!
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brilliant prose by a brilliant man. ive only read about you now. rest in peace,sir. you live on in your writing.
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Why does God take away all the good people too soon? He’ll surely be missed.
Rest in peace, Alexis and Nika.
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Eggy, why’d you have to go too soon? You still owe me coffee (or tea.) :(
You will be missed.“How are you, Poli?“
“I’m ok. How are you?“
“I’m great. You look sad. What’s bothering you?“
“Nothing. Just tired.“
“C’mon let’s smoke.“And I’ll surely miss sitting in silence with you, staring at the smoke patterns that the cigarettes make while the coffee gets cold.
Rest in peace, Eggy.
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You will forever be missed Mr. Alexis Tioseco. It was a privilege to be part of your first teaching stint at UA&P.
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Not only in Filipina, members of Indonesian film communities who are lucky enough to know him are in shock. Only the good die young! Rest in Peace, Alexis.
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I just saw him at cinemalaya this year at the ccp i believe with nika… wow what a sursprise… only the good one’s die so young. RIP you two
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May you both Rest In Peace..
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yes, we in indonesia are as shocked and sad.
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once you have said, that ten years from now you wanted to be like hafiz. well, i guess every plans and schemes only works coincidentally…may you rest in peace alexis. our short meeting is really inspiring :(
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this is really sad. :(
may you guys rest in peace. -
I don’t know you personally, but when I saw the news on TV this morning I shed a tear. When I read your this article this afternoon, I a sobbed uncontrollably.
I wish you did not feel too much pain.
May you and your dear Nika rest in peace. -
He’s exactly the kind of youth this country needs. It is so sad that he has been taken away by violence in his supposedly native country. He made a choice to stay here and did his best to give his 2 cents to the improvement of Philippine cinema. And this is how he is repaid. So sad. May you rest in peace with your beloved Nika and enjoy the eternal cinema in the sky.
I hope you get reincarnated soon. Serious.
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Rest In Peace Alexis.. glad to know you in person..
Rest in Peace Nika.. -
Monumental loss for Philippine Cinema.
Just when it looked like deliverance was getting closer.
This article is a legacy to Filipinos and Filipino culture.I only saw Alexis on TV once, at an interview with Butch Dalisay re
National Artist awards. His depth and sharpness was most striking. At home in Sydney, we were struck deeply by this terrible news of homicide.The Philippine government owes its people justice.
Whoever hired those demons must NEVER be allowed to get away with it. -
I took his class for one semester. By far, he was one of the most brilliant professors I have ever had. He had this eye for film that I constantly struggle to understand to this day. He could always see the elegance where I could not.
My only regret is that I feel I did not give as much as I should have in performing in his class.
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Dear Alexis, though we met only 4 a brief period of time, I hv alwiz admired ur passion 4 phillipino cinema n brilliance. U hv changd lives n perspectives. May U n Nika rest in peace. I will alwiz miss u dearly..
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I always found some of the movies he showed us during my 1st year sort of dragging… but at the end of the class, he’d always have this enlightening message on the what the movie was all about and how it is so much related to people’s behaviors and thoughts which then would branch out towards the country’s deteriorating however still hopeful future. he had a lot of ideas which was never put to action/writing. it was a tragic incident. it shouldn’t have happened.
I wish I had paid more attention in class. would’ve probably learned more.
Rest in Peace Sir
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I admire the courage that it took for Mr. Tioseco to tell it as it is.
I pray for more truth-tellers to rise as one is made to rest.
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You are a great loss to me, yet I never met you Alexis. Maybe that is why I hurt. Just this noon before I saw the news on television…I was watching belatedly your TV appearance with Cheche Lazaro on the National Artist Award. Working in film and television, I told myself I must meet this brilliant mind. There is so much to learn from him.
I am truly sad. May you rest in peace
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RIP Alexix. RIP Nika…..Slovenia will always remember you with honor
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Happy love will never die…
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sorry in my English,
if not both of you,Lav Diaz,and filmvirus
it might not be able to screen Lav Diaz films in Bangkok
I’m the one who lied in blanket under the row seats
behind you both -
I never knew Alexis, other than by reputation. As a fellow writer, film enthusiast and creative spirit - and as an expat with a great love of the Philippines, I feel saddened at the news of his premature death. But I can see from the many tributes that he must have been a very special person.
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Sir,
May you rest in peace, this is such a big loss for everyone because you are such a great person who is humble enough not to brag about wisdom but is kind enough to share.Thank you! Will continue to pray for justice!
You will forever be my crush -
together in death…
May your souls rest in peace
sherliez
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I remember the time when I got to hangout with you, John Torres, Khavn De la Cruz, Quark Henares and Raya Martin after a film festival. Though I was just the silent kid at the seat, I was completely overwhelmed by your conversation that I was much inspired to know more and write more about film.
It was a great privilege to shake your hand.
Thank you very much Mr. Alex, we will miss you.
And I do hope that the passion for [serious] filmmaking and writing [may it be script or essay] lives on.
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I don’t know Alexis. I was introduced to him by my daughter Banaue who was then doing Lav Diaz’s Ebolusyon ng Pamilyang Pilipino. I read his review of Batang West Side. And admired his writing and his insight. Finally, there’s a film critic! This letter, “The Letter I would Love….“ is a testament to Alexis’ big heart and admirable soul. He is a class by himself. Sayang, we have a dearth of people with character and we lose them.
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Your blogs changed my perspective and belief in Philippine Cinema. You made me love going to see Pinoy movies again… how I wish I had the style, insight, intellect and wit to write as beautifully as you did here and everywhere else.
You and Nika shall be missed. Godspeed.
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birbirini seven iki insanın bu hayatı yaşayamamaları gerçekten üzücü. üstelik sinema gibi bir mucizeyi benim gibi hayatlarına sokmuş onunla yaşıyor olmaları bu iki kişiyi kendimle özdeştirmeme sebep oldu. I am sad for them
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I met Alexis twice but was really taken with him and said I would go to events he organized as often as I could. Such vision for the Philippines. Wrote him (and Nika) this poem from where I am in Germany.
It is my belief that these two wont be resting - two people like that who are so convinced of working for the good keep on doing things for the world and for the Philipines from the new condition of being in the spiritual world and from there they can still touch the lives of many - maybe even more so than in life. We should believe in what they believe in and work with them to realise Alexis’s dream. That is the very best thing to do for them, I believe.
FOR ALEXIS AND NIKA
A white bird
flying swallow-freely through dark pillars
gives my soul the strength it needs.Remembering my beloved
singing as the light falls softly
fills my heart with hope.The knives and guns of this world’s wickedness
seem at times to be a force
in which all good
is utterly destroyed.But love endures
and is the greater force.
We need to remember
when overwhelmed by knives and guns.The goodness that I still see shining in your eyes
cannot be taken from the world;
it shines on still. -
rest in peace Alexis and Nika
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He had so much hope, energy, love, not just for cinema, for everyone who knew him.
I’d always imagined he’d outlive me—that he’d somehow carry the torch (I know, I know—my presumptuousness at assuming I carry anything! But we’re so few that set our eyes on Manila). It seems so wrong.
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This letter is truly moving… it made me wish that I have known Alexis more…
The thing that I will always remember about Alexis was that whenever I will bump into him in any film events, he has a ready smile of warmth & kindness and he always have this humble presence… and he never fails to acknowledge, even with just a nod, the people around him…
God Bless you Alexis wherever you are… and to Nika as well…
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As you said Alexis, “I am willing to meet Nica anywhere else..“ Nica has profound impact on your life and its contribution to pride in the Filipino and his art through films.
Your legacy is your desire for Pinoys to love quality Pinoy films and for the outside world to see and love our quality film creations.
The FAMAS should have and Alexis Tioseco Impact Film Award that will showcase the greatness and creativity of Pinoy films that impact Filipino sensitivity and socio-cultural dimension.
Wherever you and Nica are, wishing you all the best. -
Eggy, I will miss you and our days in UA&P. I am sure you will continue to look over Philippine film and the future greatness it deserves.
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I still get goosebumps and tears streaming down to my face whenever I recall you’re already gone (God bless your soul and Nika’s). I would always ask myself, “is this real?“ ‘cause I’m still in disbelief. And every time, Reality would hesitantly answer me, it is real—you are gone. My heart bursts with combined anger and sadness. Why do those persons (i don’t know if they deserve to be called ‘persons’ anymore) have to…(i can’t say it, it’s too tragic :c )??!! Why?! It’s nonsense. It’s nonsense. :c
There’s nothing left to do but to: 1) pray for the repose of your souls 2) pray that justice, soon, will hunt those people down and punish them 3) convince myself that it was your time and you already served your purpose in this half-cruel half-wonderful world 4) hope all your wishes will be granted and 5) believe that you would still help us fulfill all these from above.
I am so happy and thankful to have met you (as a professor, good friend, and inspiration). I am so proud that you are one of the few who actually stayed in and lived for our country. You will be missed. You surely will be remembered.
No goodbyes. Only good memories.
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i remember getting in touch with a certain filmmaker because of alexis’ writing. i had parts of my email then quoting from alexis’ rogue article because i was truly impressed after reading about the director’s work. i was never his student, but i learned a lot from him through his works (what more if i actually had him as a professor)
thank you, mr. tioseco.
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I’m sad and with dis-appointment. I started to had a lot of questions of “what if” into my mind right now. I don’t know Alexis Tioseco in person. This is the first time I heard about him. I’d learned a lot of things and was blessed since I had my fb account. I don’t understand why should good people be the target because of poverty ?
I believe that we can do something to help our beloved country if we just help each other to fight poverty. It’s not easy but when are we gonna start?
Am crying now and my heart goes out to the Tioseco’s family. May this case find justice Lord.
My prayers are with the Tioseco’s family.
What makes one rich? In living a life of honor and high integrity, leaving the “stuff” and “possessions” aside, giving of yourself to help and care for others, and being a gift to this troubled world yields a rich and full life that is beyond compare. -
fucking brilliant.
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Wow! The story is very well-written. It is very interesting, and it becomes even more interesting when you know that it is true. I adore reading biographies. And this very story reminded me a biography by Theodor Dreiser. There are some common moments. I also hope that the author of this story will be as famous as the well-known writter.
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RIP Alexis Tioseco..
although, you were not my teacher in UA&P, i admire and respect your brilliant works. You have inspired many with your passion for Philippine cinema. very patriotic! thumbs up for you Mr. Alexis Tioseco!!
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Thank you for making it sound easier than it is. It seems as if we don’t have to dream but rather, great things must be done like all the other mundane things we do everyday-which is just how it should be.
I will always admire your work, the passion that you have and the love that you two share. Rest well, together. -
alexis & nika,
thank you for showing us the hope that love will work if those in it will.
alexis,
thank you for you have brought back my love for filipino films, overshadowed before by dismay and disappointment over the rubbish film houses churn out just to earn bucks.
nika,
thank you for your love of language (as i try to see you through alexis’ eyes) and of words. as i say, the pen is mightier than the sword, but it is the tongue that is sharpest of all.
alexis and nika, thank you. lay in peace.
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why is it only in death that i get to know you?
“unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies it produces much fruit.“ John 12:24
May God grant you, brother Alexis, and you, sister Nika eternal rest.
May your Love bear fruit in all of us.
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stef wrote on Wed, September 02, 2009 at 10:13:36
RIP Alexis. I’m glad I got to meet your brilliance and passion for Philippine Cinema first hand.
to add to your wishlist:
I wish Filipinos would be passionate about being Filipinos.
—- this is well said, I have nothing more to add for this is good enough. -
Just finished watching a docu about you mr. Tioseco in ANC’s Storyline. I had no idea of who you were but I was amazed as much as I was intrigued on how your articulateness and brilliance were depicted. I immediately opened my laptop to read your works in the internet and was shocked and very much saddened… To realize why your name sounded so familiar… It was a few weeks back when I had heard that dreadful incident in QC. It is unfortunate that good persons like you, and Nika, with so much to contribute, let alone inspire genuine nationalism especially to us Filipinos, had to be casualties of crime,just one of the bi-products of the ever worsening poverty here, corrupting the minds of most of us…
I could only wish that there would be more Filipinos as brave and passionate in our nation as you.
Thank you for your contributions mr. Tioseco. May you rest in peace.
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I was trying to find the TV channel showing news 24/7 and something familiar caught my attention. It’s Alexis and Nika’s story being featured by ANC’s Storyline. I didn’t know about this tragedy or these people until my Slovenian husband told me about it. Gave me goosebumps while watching the part where this letter is being read, but even more while reading this letter myself. This is the letter I hope more Filipinos get to read. Thanks to Alexis for making me appreciate my being Pinay more.
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The content of the letter is very meaningful, Alexis i could not say anything more, you are a great loss to those who know you, who just knew you, and who wants to know you. Rest in Peace.
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Mr. Alexis Tuiseco was a GREAT LOSS to the world and to the film critics field… He inspired some Filipinos to appreciate local films to the extent that he sacrificed his other interests in life. But his passion for film critic is undying and eternal.I’m one of those people who read the article in ROGUE and it was awesome. Unfortunately, I could never meet him personally, I wish that I once met him before he died…sad but RIP and GOD bless his soul…
Add your comment:
This article struck a chord in my thoughts, having to reflect my own views on cinema. As a fan of films, its really sad that we do not have a convenient way of seeing films made by our own brothers.
I learned a lot from this one. The addendum was awesome! MMDA, VIVA, and Star Cinema need to learn a little thing about social responsibility and should stop insulting the Filipino audience! This just tells a lot about dysfunctional institutions in this country.
Kudos to all Filipino Filmmaker and all Pinoy artists!
I wish more people would read this. Thanks Alex!
R O U G E is one of the few magazines that actually makes sense out there!