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WE’RE HEEERE!

Well what do you know, I ended up NOT making an ass out of myself on the intarwebs after all. The wonderful Lorna (aka TheBachelorGirl) took the time to personally speak to Fritz and me so we could sort out the mess that was my unexpected marketing scheme. What a very nice lady she is! Thanks to her, we got to occupy the best seats in the house. Even the obscenely tall couple sitting in front of us could not ruin the view from where we were seated.

Unlike Fritz, who pretty much knew the soundtrack by heart even before we got our tickets, I only knew of two songs from Avenue Q: Everyone’s A Little Bit Racist and The Internet Is For Porn. (Aside: I find it odd that my friends keep cracking jokes about how I would know a lot of things about the internet being for porn. Me?! Lauren Dado? Role model for the Filipino youth? What do I know about vulgar things like Internet pornography? Srsly gais.) I felt like a douche for showing up unprepared, so I went on a mad Avenue Q OST download spree before heading out. It’s a good thing I wasn’t able to find the complete soundtrack though. You see, when it comes to watching movies or plays, I believe that Ignorance Is Bliss. I like knowing next to nothing about what I’m about to see. This makes me a more open-minded viewer and keeps me from falling into the trap of holding unrealistic expectations or from “challenging” what I’m about to watch (”Come on puppets, bring on the LOLZ!”). Also, I become more receptive to happy surprises and unexpected plot twists.

The Ignorance Is Bliss tactic brought rise to a rather unusual experience I had while watching Avenue Q: for a very brief moment during the second act of the play, I actually felt like crying.

This happened when Kate Monster sang the lines, “I wish I could go back to college. Life was so simple back then.” Fuck me if I haven’t made that same wish (almost) every day since I graduated! Actually, the opening lines of the play - “What do you do with a BA in English? What is my life going to be?” - was enough to hit me right where it hurts. I did not expect Avenue Q to address the question of Purpose or to portray the confusion and self-doubt that plagues us sheltered college kids when we step out into the Real World. The lighthearted moments were appropriate placed though, so that the heavy stuff didn’t get too heavy. Thank god for that, or I really would have burst into tears and made an idiot out of myself.

Besides the existential angst, Avenue Q also brings up other Real World issues people don’t like saying out loud simply because they aren’t very pleasant things. Things like: you aren’t as special as you thought you were, money is a real bitch to come by even with a degree, and happiness is an evasive and fleeting thing. If I had kids, I’d take my kids to see it because nobody ever tells children about the awful things that await them in the Real World. Then I’ll make sure they don’t have access to sharp objects or ropes afterwards. Also, nobody ever tells children about sex and how it happens. So parents - if you feel awkward about explaining how the boy’s peepee goes into the girl’s vajayjay to make babies, the very graphic sex scene in the play is quite instrumental explaining the reproductive process. My mom did her best with me, but for the longest time I seriously thought I could get pregnant by kissing someone.

We have pictures of the cast, just not with them. Suxxorz.

Performance-wise, the cast was excellent, particularly Aiza Seguerra, who pulled off a very believable performance as the grown-up child actor Gary Coleman, right down to the accent. Joel Trinidad was also amazing as Trekkie Monster and Nikky. Then again, I’m a little biased because I’ve had the hots for him ever since I saw him perform at Mag:Net Bonifacio High Street. Once I have more time, I intend to make Jayvee bring me to his SPIT shows so I can stalk him properly and propose marriage, or perhaps concubinage, when the opportunity arises.

I think the reviews done by bloggers more eloquent than myself already said what I want to say. Which is: go watch Avenue Q! I hear the shows are all sold out, but try to mug someone you know with tickets anyway. The jail time will be worth it, I promise.

I finally finished watching the first season of Masters of Horror last night! I know it’s only thirteen episodes and I’ve had it for a couple of weeks, but it takes me two to three hours to watch a one-hour episode because I end up multitasking somewhere in between. I meant to do a review of each episode but I’m too lazy for that now. So I’ll just talk in detail about the ones I liked and lump everything else into the next paragraph.

To be perfectly honest, Masters of Horror doesn’t live up to the hype that the opening credits bring. At least not for me. Save for two or three episodes, the whole series is basically Are You Afraid of the Dark? for adults. And by “adults” I mean that almost every episode has raunchy sex scenes and a woman’s perky breasts. Most of the first season is incredibly disappointing. The plot devices were lame and cliched beyond belief, the gore is so-so (and sometimes non-existent), and the endings are prosaic and unimaginative. Their rendition of H.P. Lovecraft’s Dreams in the Witch-House was truly horrifying only because it was so bad. I really wanted to like the fourth episode, Dance of the Dead, because Billy Corgan from the Smashing Pumpkins composed the musical score. But even that was rather awful and the “music”–if you can even call it that–sounded a whole lot like buzz buzz BUZZZZZ to my ears.

That being said, I have two recommendations. If you want hot women and mediocre horror that functions as nothing more than an excuse to show lots of tits and ass, watch these episodes:

Episode 4, Jenifer
Episode 7, Deer Woman
Episode 12, Haeckel’s Tale

If you are looking for something that will satisfy your bloodlust, I suggest that you save your bandwidth and watch these:

Episode 1: Incident On and Off a Mountain Road

I enjoyed this episode very much and naturally, I expected the next 12 ones to be just as satisfying. Little did I know that I would be sorely disappointed. Incident On and Off a Mountain Road feels and moves like a quality slasher flick. It starts with a girl driving late at night on a lonely mountain road, and you can tell she’s going to be so screwed because any girl alone in a dark place might as well be wearing a huge sign that says “Kill me now plz!” Soon enough, she encounters a serial killer who bears a striking resemblance to Hellraiser. A lot of running away from him happens, then some flashbacks of her having raunchy sex with her boyfriend just because, and then a very interesting twist kept my eyes completely glued to the screen.

This episode inspired me to teach myself some self-defense, mostly in the form of waving around a hunting knife and trying to look bad-ass while doing it. You never know when you need to escape from the clutches of a psycho.

Rating: 4/5

Episode 8: Cigarette Burns

Cigarette Burns revolves around a man’s search for a very rare film called La Fin Absolue du Monde (The Absolute End of the World)–a movie so violent and foul that it incited a murderous riot among audience members during the first and last time it was shown to the public. The narrative is clear and well-told; your curiosity will get so piqued that you’ll be sitting on the edge of your seat, waiting for the mystery to unfold. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the quirky characters were rather endearing. My favorite one is the French snuff filmmaker. I can’t explain why but there’s something about him that’s just so…lovable. I shall blame that on my penchant for finding the freakiest guys really attractive.

Towards the end of the episode, you do get to see snippets of La Fin Absolue du Monde but it didn’t live up to the hype and mystery surrounding the film. For that, I will give this episode a 4 out of 5. Expect a lot of blood, gore, violence, and fun times.

Episode 13: Imprint

This is the only episode Showtime refused to air because it was too shocking and graphic for the average person to stomach. I’m actually not very familiar with Takashi Miike’s work, except that I’ve heard that he’s made other films that are even more disturbing than this one. I’m currently downloading Ichi the Killer and I’m a little bit nervous about watching it alone because it’s supposed to be one of the wrongest films ever.

There are no words for how insanely fucking awesome Imprint is. It was gruesome, it crawled under my skin and stayed there festering like a rotten wound, it disturbed me to no end. It’s everything I love about in a horror flick and more. Fancy adjectives can’t do justice to how awesome it is, so this is all I have to say: FIND A WAY TO SEE IMPRINT NOW. I’ll burn you a copy if I have to! It’s that fucking amazing. Admittedly the plot twists were a little hard to swallow, but at that point I was seriously freaked out that I couldn’t afford to be nitpicky about things like the internal cohesion of the story.

Rating: 5/5

I love Imprint so much that I’m willing to forget that most of the first season of Masters of Horror was utter crap. I’ll give the show another shot and start watching the second season tomorrow. Let’s hope this one won’t let me down.

Ever since graduation day, the only TV shows and movies that keep me riveted to my seat belong to the horror genre. I’ve been spending the past couple of weeks downloading and renting out my favorite horror flicks from childhood (Stephen King’s It), re-watching old favorites (Silent Hill, A Tale of Two Sisters), as well as checking out horror films recommended by hoity-toity film critics (The Innocents, Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Repulsion). Those that fell under the latter simply bored me to death–too slow paced, not enough blood. Proof, perhaps, that my taste in films is horribly unsophisticated and that I clearly don’t have what it takes to be a hoity-toity critic. Let’s strike that career option off the list.

Supernatural horror films–the ones that involve Japanese women crawling out of the TV or peering at you from under the covers–scare me the most, because my imagination is horribly vivid and I can actually see those ghostly figures in my bedroom, in the dark. I usually avoid ghost movies unless I’m feeling unusually masochistic, or am in the mood to make my fellow moviegoers go deaf. I’ve been told that my operatic shrieks of terror has the potential to break ear-drums.

My favorite sub-category of horror is something I like to refer to as gore-ror (I’m not clever enough to have coined the term; I believe I picked it up from someone). They’re usually psychological horror films or films with minor supernatural elements that are characterized by extreme violence. I’m talking about skulls being crushed open, people being skinned alive, zombies being torn to shreds, humans being devoured by the undead. Nothing makes me jump up and down in my seat like an overactive five-year old than watching someone’s guts spilling on the floor. The more violent the movie is, the happier I am.

One of my favorite gore-ror movies is a little-known film called May. It’s about this girl who couldn’t make friends as a child because of a facial deformity. As an adult, she tries desperately to form friendships and relationships but fails at this due to her lack of social experience. What I love about this movie (spoiler alert: you might want to scroll down to the YouTube video below) is how she kills off all her friends and her ex-boyfriend, chops off their limbs, and sews them up into one big doll. “If you can’t find a friend, make one,” was her mother’s advice as a child. I found that whole mass murder scene very, very satisfying. Like May, I too chop off parts of people that I find beautiful and sew them up to create my ideal person. Unlike May, however, I only do this figuratively. My ideal person (or ideal guy, if you will) is an intricate combination of so many parts from so many people that my biggest fear that he only exists in my head. But I’m young and I’ve only been single for a few months–I’m in no real hurry to make my creation come to life.

Another reason why I love May is because my future husband Jeremy Sisto (Billy from Six Feet Under) is in it, oozing with more sex and manliness than usual. Those broad shoulders! His large, gorgeous, hands! Those shapely lips! His fuck-me curly hair! Jeremy Sisto could use my face to shine his shoes and I’d walk away feeling like a million dollars.

Upon deeper reflection, I think my recent fascination for gore-ror flicks is a result of my quarter-life crisis. Whenever I watch arteries spraying blood and intestines hanging out of people’s stomachs, I can feel every little insecurity I have about myself leave my body and join the blood on the walls. The sight of blood in real life makes me want to vomit, but gore-ror films never make me sick to my stomach. They allow me to live out my deviant thoughts in a more socially-accepted manner. When the credits roll, I feel as clean and pure as a newborn baby, ready to grab the world by the balls (and stuff them down its throat).