I’ve been on the express lane for the past five days. Exhaustingly mobile. Deprived of the simple joys of stopping to take a breath, kick a pebble, mull over the goings-on in this odd little life.
Each day was something to write about. Ups and downs, highs and lows, highlights, lowdowns, adventures, plateaus.
Let me start with Day One.
Early Morning Calltimes, Early Packups
December 16. Our last day of shoot for the indie film. Arrived at the location--a church in Quezon City--at 4 in the morning. The stars were still shining down, the place was bursting with churchgoers, the air carrying the voices of choir singers. I was happy that I was lucky enough to catch the tailend of the First Morning of Simbang Gabi--sigh, been a looong time since I actually been to one of those.
The last shooting day was like how everything had been in the past 23 days. I was in lighter spirits, kidding around with everybody in between takes. I knew that even if I wouldn’t miss them to tears I was still going to miss them. We were such an ideal troupe. Everyone was down-to-earth, congenial, real. We loved each other. I think. Haha.
We packed up before sunset. There was to be a wrap-up party that night. Everyone--crew, staff, producers, cast--was invited.
At packup time the Leader of the Tribe made the effort to personally thank each and every one of us. I got a "thank you", a beso, a bottle of raspberry wine, and a warm-eyed smile. Of all these things he’d given me i treasure the smile the most. That kind of smile was a rarity, coming from him to me.
But the party was a different story altogether.
The Wrap Bash
The bash was fun. Definitely. Music turned up, food and drinks all around, and it was easy for me to switch modes from Working Girl to Party Girl, after a few songs on videoke and a bottle of San Mig Light. The Presidential Table Dwellers arrived last. Tribe Leader, escorting the (soon to be?)Ex-missus. The punk thrasher look was gone. The belo was gone. He looked pogi in a crisp shirt and moussed up hair. I still felt awkward around him like how I've always been in the past 23 days--couldn't talk to him, couldn't even smile. Only when I'd have someone else with me talking with him would I be able to get past my katorpehan. Argh. How high school, bluey. Ilang taon ka na nga uli?
You look pogi in your outfit! AD2, who was with me, enthused to him.
Yeah, pogi, I seconded, trying to be light. To my credit, the comment sounded casual enough. No one could've guessed the internal hurdles I had to get past through just to get the words out of my mouth. Haha.
He smiled at us, humoring the compliment. But the smile wasn't really meant for me. I was just a fly on the wall. A silent hovering pest, at worst. Ooh, ouch.
The Movie Trailer
They showed a rough-cut trailer of our film. Watching the images (with Coldplay playing in the background for scoring), I was moved to near-tears. Nothing like witnessing the fruits of your labor. Seeing the scenes flash before everyone’s eyes, I could proudly say that I'd been there, behind the scenes, in each and every shot. And the memories that came with each and every shot that we had mounted made the whole experience priceless for me.
In the middle of the screening, our Production Designer (who’s worked with the likes of Mike de Leon and Ishmael Bernal), randomly asked me: Saffron, ilang taon ka na?
Twenty five po.
Anong masasabi mo sa Sta. Mesa (one of our major locations in the film)?
Beautiful, I enthused.
He seemed to think so too. The production design of the film was breathtaking, but most of it was built-in on the location. The railways, the shanties, the trolleys, the locals, the clotheslines, the stray dogs, the scattered garbage—-politically incorrect as it might sound, but Sta. Mesa personifies Third World beauty, in all its uniqueness.
The Puller and The Ex-Missus
Behind the scene that was the Party, something else was going on. The Puller had been waiting for Tribe Leader’s Ex-Missus to arrive. It's a story that doesn't belong to me, and to tell it would be something akin to spreading "chismis", so I won't go into (too much) detail. Suffice it to say that, amidst the flurry of hellos and thank yous, hugs and besos, the Puller and Ex-Missus pulled a stunt in front of everyone when they unabashedly fell into a kiss. With the Tribe Leader standing less than five feet away. People started whispering.
I turned to discreetly look at Tribe Leader. His face revealed nothing. A few minutes later, he quietly, inconspicuously strode out of the bar to smoke a cigarette outside. Through the glass doors I could see him. His face revealed nothing still, but I could tell that he was sad. Anyone in his situation would be.
It seemed that he got sadder and sadder as the night deepened. I was busy with my own partying but I wasn’t completely lost in it. But he looked like he was. Lost in his own heartbreak.
Awww. Makes me wanna sing that MYMP song again.
In the middle of the party the Ex-Missus and The Puller disappeared. I could sense Tribe Leader’s restlessness. I wanted to sit down and bond with him—-it would’ve been my wildest dream—-but he was clearly more preoccupied with heavier things.
Finally I found him sitting next to me by 1 in the morning as the acoustic band played a local love song onstage.
These songs are so sad, he said to me. It looked more like he was saying it to himself.
I smiled at him and nodded, sadly in agreement. He was within an arm's reach but he had never been so distant. Haha. The overused cliché. The story of my life. His thoughts were out there, in some unknown place where The Ex-Missus and The Puller were huddled together. His heart was elsewhere, screaming and flailing with the anger and pain that he couldn’t openly display to the world.
Life was unfair for this guy. He deserved more love and respect than he was probably getting.
Soon enough he got up and walked away. Through the glass doors, I watched him leave the bar and take a walk into the night. There goes my wildest dream. Haha. He was probably going to look for her. Kick a few pebbles and mull over the goings-on in his life.
Right at that moment, I wanted so badly to make him feel better.
But I didn't know how. And I gravely doubted if I’d be the person who could.
Just a fly on the wall. A hovering pest, at worst. Haha-ouch.
I kept watch on the glass doors all night, waiting for him to reappear. A sad note to end the night with.
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