Facade

People who need people

Are the luckiest people in the world

We're children needing other children

And yet letting our grown-up pride

Hide all the need inside

Acting more like children than children

From the song People (sung by Barbra Streisand), Funny Girl original motion picture soundtrack (1968)

Barbra Streisand's first film role was that of Fanny Brice in this semibiographical movie account of the hit Broadway musical. She won the Academy Award for Best Actress in 1968, an honor she shared with the late Katharine Hepburn.

That scene when Fanny sang People is one of my favorites from the movie. I think it's all because of Streisand and the song. In what should be a particularly romantic scene, with the two leads enjoying a rare moment alone, I entirely forgot about the leading man and focused on Barbra's clear, awesome voice (although I must say that's also because I'm not particularly charmed by the Don Juan type). I was compelled to ask a friend if she thinks Barbra Streisand is overrated. The answer was a clear no. I rest my case.

Fanny was funny. She was not a classic beauty but her ambition and sheer determination gave her a flourishing career in a business that normally only embraces belles and sex symbols. Then she fell in love. It didn't end well - her husband rained on her parade, that's why.

In another of my favorite scenes, Fanny comes out to greet the reporters after it became known that her husband, a pathological gambler, had been arrested for embezzlement. She was devastated while her back was turned, and then she faced the cameras with a bright smile and a handful of jokes. That's an actress for you - image is everything; reality, secondary.

Another friend told me that people who appears to be gregarious and animated all the time are sometimes the loneliest people in the world. "Fun" is their way of taking the very "nonfun" parts of their private lives. I suppose there's truth to that claim because I've seen some first hand. But it shouldn't be our business to measure our cumulative loneliness. I think maybe we should start learning how to need each other. At least until we've come full circle and being needy starts to make us unhappy and it all becomes a joke.

Fairy Tales

Reality is brutal and it will kill you, make no mistake about it, but our tales, our creatures and our heroes have a chance to live longer than any of us.

Guillermo Del Torro, writer and director, Pan's Labyrinth (2006)

I expected Pan's Labyrinth to be a fantastic film and was not disappointed. What I did not expect is its frightening nature - the way it moves from reality to fantasy and back, leaving the audience at a loss as to which world is practically, if not definitively, better.

The movie was released in 2006, and was set against the historical backdrop of the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939). The director was apparently influenced by many oral folk stories and written fairy tales that juxtapose blood and violence with beauty and enchantment. It is with these visions of the supernatural that he gave life to the private world of the main protagonist, the young Ofelia, as those around her were dealing with pain, political tension, and unrelenting violence.

As with any fairy tale, there is clear demarcation between good and evil, except perhaps for the mythical Faun, who is "by turns playful, complimentary, and fierce." The creature that will guide Ofelia to the secrets of the labyrinth, he is neither good nor bad; "uncaring but neutral." Ofelia's stepfather, Captain Vidal, is the representation of the ultimate evil in man. Assured, cold, and remorseless, his retribution in the end is both deserved and unregrettable. Her mother, Carmen, has fallen victim to the damsel in distress plight, believing that the Captain is the answer to the loneliness that being alone for so long brought. And then there was Mercedes, the housekeeper and Ofelia's confidante, who had to find the strength and courage she didn't know she had, to save herself from the clutches of the enemy.

The labyrinth where Ofelia has taken refuge isn't the fairy tale kingdom of many Disney movies. It is dark, grimy, and filled with scary creatures. But she'd take it, in exchange for the dark life outside she got caught in the middle of. Outside the labyrinth, the rebel forces are fighting the fascists whose leader's twisted ideologies allow him to act with utmost brutality, relenting only when he fears for his unborn son, Ofelia's brother. Meanwhile, the Faun gave her three tasks to complete in order to go back to their world (she was told she was a princess who tried to live with the mortals). She relished the adventure and was thoroughly immersed in the fantasy, despite the seeming dangers that lie before her. As the director succinctly put it, "I believe fairy tales are ultimately about two things: facing the dragon or climbing back to our world inside."

This is not a film I would recommend for most children, but adults will be dazzled by its stunning visuals and taut storytelling. It is, after all, a story about the human condition, the many forms of love, and the ultimate sacrifice. This movie is now available on DVD. Be prepared to give your full attention - subtitles may come in handy; it is entirely in Spanish.

This Is Me, Now

...make the world stop right here. Make everything stop and stand still and never move again. Make the moors never change and you and I never change... No matter what I ever do or say, Heathcliff, this is me - now - standing on this hill with you. This is me, forever.

Cathy to Heathcliff, Wuthering Heights (1939)

The 1939 film that starred Laurence Olivier as the tortured Heathcliff and Merle Oberon as the spoiled and free-spirited Cathy Earnshaw is widely acclaimed as the greatest version in celluloid of Emily Bronte's classic novel. Its focus on only half of the novel worked to its advantage, I believe. There's enough torment enveloped in the tumultuous affair between the doomed lovers as it is without dwelling on the vengeful events that transpired after Cathy's death.

As impossible love stories go, Cathy and Heathcliff are two very complex characters whose love, no matter how grand, was not able to prevail, much less get a chance. Cathy's pronounciations, quoted above, meant nothing because she changes her attitude toward Heathcliff as soon as she changes from farm dresses to corsets. She realized he is her other half, but thought him beneath her in stature and therefore unworthy. Heathcliff, on the other hand, loved Cathy with all his soul but was far too consumed by his grudges. Even in death, he did not wish Cathy peace.

On a personal note, I've never hoped for the world to stop and stay the same. I still want change. Which is one way of saying I haven't found that hill where I can stand on and declare that, "This is it! I have everything I could ever want, nothing else matters." Its not even about material things but it will be too sappy to say that its about love. And what if I'll never get to find that kind? Not Cathy and Heathcliff's. Theirs is an obsession and the kind of love that destructs. I've always wanted a fairy tale. But when you've passed that age when you believe in princes and knights in shining armor, you'll look into the mirror and see a girl in ordinary clothes looking back with her sad eyes.

Well, this is me now. It won't last forever.

Stars

Do you remember still the falling stars
that like swift horses through the heavens raced
and suddenly leaped across the hurdles
of our wishes--do you recall? And we
did make so many! For there were countless numbers
of stars: each time we looked above we were
astounded by the swiftness of their daring play,
while in our hearts we felt safe and secure
watching these brilliant bodies disintegrate,
knowing somehow we had survived their fall.

Falling Stars, Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming

I can't remember the last time I was able to enjoy the luxury of just lying somewhere while staring up a night sky filled with stars. Maybe it was three years ago, along the shores of a well-remembered beach. Or maybe it was three years before that, amidst the city lights, on a night when I deconstructed my life as it signaled my entry into the real world. What I know is that stars don't scare me. On the contrary, they bring me peace, and, on certain nights, even joy.

When I was very young, I was extremely afraid of the dark. Even now, I sleep with the lights on. But as a child, I had this habit of looking out the window at night, when everybody else is asleep, and staring at the sky. My school teachers used to say that you can never count the stars up there; that never stopped me from trying.

It's one thing to look for stars; it's another thing to wait for those huge, falling ones (which incidentally aren't really stars). But what joy, when you see one! They say it's for luck. I'm not sure about that.

I do not discount the brainwashing of sorts that I got from taking to heart that Pinnochio song, "When You Wish upon a Star," very early on. I figured since I can never count them all, looking up and wishing on all the stars my eyes can reach will somehow make my dreams come true. That was before I learned to pray to the higher power behind those skies; before I finally came to accept that not all dreams are meant to be realized.

The truth is, I never stopped being amazed by the beauty of it all. I no longer delude myself into believing that I deserve to get whatever my heart desires. But I still look up to the stars every now and then, waiting for that perfect moment when I can raise my hands up and sing, "If your heart is in your dream, no request is too extreme. When you wish upon a star, your dreams come true."

The Story Goes On

I've just watched a movie that said this about writing, "If you want to write well, you need to write about what you know." I couldn't have put that any other way better.

So welcome to my site. Where I'll try to write about the things that I know and want to share with the world. I hope you'll find something here worth your while.

I'm here for the stories. Mine and yours.