Jhei Em Basco Halili
I'll take character over reputation. Your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.
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![pelikula:
Pelikula Q&A: Big BoyAn interview with director Shireen Seno by Jansen Musico
I read that Big Boy was the result of your trying to recreate “a memory of a memory.” Tell us something about that.
Big Boy is loosely based on stories from my father about growing up in Mindoro in the 1950s, which he told me while I was growing up in Japan. While writing a script of sorts for the film, I asked my father to retell those stories. Funnily enough, his recollections ended up different from the way I envisioned them all these years.
I realized the film didn’t have to be one way or the other. It could be fragile and fickle, like memory itself. Sometimes I’m not sure if I remember something from experience or from seeing a photograph or a film of that moment. We also talked to other people from Mindoro about their experiences there. The film is as much ours as it is theirs.
Out of all the memories you could choose from, why pick that one?
When I was in high school, my family started living apart, the five of us in three countries. You come to appreciate family much more after you’ve lived on your own, apart from them. I thought a lot about them, about our individual and shared experiences. I guess these particular memories just stuck with me, and I needed to deal with them, to demystify them.
Why call your film Big Boy?
It actually used to be called Tall Tales. I wanted to look at the idea of growth and success; the obsession with outward appearance; images and their proliferation and power; the Philippines, with an image prescribed for it, first as an object and then as a market. As a Filipina who grew up mostly outside the country, I’ve struggled with my identity and my relationship with the Philippines. I tended to get caught up with my own image, how I appeared to others, instead of accepting myself and opening myself up to others. Going back to the title, Big Boy just seemed more personable.
You have a set of shorts under your belt. What made you decide to try making a full-length film?
To get these scenes out of my head! Seriously, I think this helped me let go of these stories and fantasies, to come to terms with them. I’ve realized now that making a film, or anything at all, for that matter, has to balance discipline and rigor with openness and humor to what comes your way.
Why shoot it on Super 8?
Super 8 has an intimacy unlike other formats. The film itself is very small, literally 8mm, so the projected images are really grainy, but that gives them a very visceral effect, kind of like recalling memories. It was harder than we thought, though. Each roll of Super 8 is only two and a half minutes, so you can’t shoot a take any longer than that. We had more than a hundred rolls! We also had trouble with sound, because the camera itself was just so loud. But separating sound from the image opens up a lot of possibilities.
You collaborated with other notable directors, including Pam Miras and, of course, John Torres, on this film. How was it working with them?
Oh gosh, they really brought so much to the film. They would all tease me about making it so hard for everyone—a period film, with kids, on Super 8—but would then reassure me that everything would be okay. One thing I found jarring was shooting the scenes out of order, on account of scheduling conflicts and the weather.
Pam was great with the kids and really made it easier for us just knowing what to expect, having directed and produced her own films. Gym [Lumbera] lit the film beautifully using only available or minimal lighting, not to mention lightening our moods. Both he and John provided their own crazy ideas, making me see things in different ways, while John always reminded me of the bigger picture, making sure I didn’t take all day on one scene. These guys, and the whole crew, made everything come together.
How about working with the kids?
The kids are all non-actors from the towns where we shot. I actually didn’t want them to be so conscious about acting. I thought it was more important that they had a connection with the place. I got to admit it was pretty difficult, too, but having less dialogue and more atmosphere made it work. I have a soft spot for the moments when the kids were caught off guard, unscripted—being kids, having fun.
At the same time, it was a relief to have Ian with us. He was the only one with acting experience and helped especially with John Lloyd, who plays the main role, get inside the character of Julio, rather than just memorize his lines.
Having completed your first full-length project, do you think you’ll be making more?
I hope so. I had a vague but interesting dream a while ago… I can’t say what it was, but I think it may be onto something. [Laughs]](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_luj9uo93291qax3ido1_500.jpg)
Pelikula Q&A: Big Boy
An interview with director Shireen Seno by Jansen MusicoI read that Big Boy was the result of your trying to recreate “a memory of a memory.” Tell us something about that.
Big Boy is loosely based on stories from my father about growing up in Mindoro in the 1950s, which he told me while I was growing up in Japan. While writing a script of sorts for the film, I asked my father to retell those stories. Funnily enough, his recollections ended up different from the way I envisioned them all these years.
I realized the film didn’t have to be one way or the other. It could be fragile and fickle, like memory itself. Sometimes I’m not sure if I remember something from experience or from seeing a photograph or a film of that moment. We also talked to other people from Mindoro about their experiences there. The film is as much ours as it is theirs.
Out of all the memories you could choose from, why pick that one?
When I was in high school, my family started living apart, the five of us in three countries. You come to appreciate family much more after you’ve lived on your own, apart from them. I thought a lot about them, about our individual and shared experiences. I guess these particular memories just stuck with me, and I needed to deal with them, to demystify them.
Why call your film Big Boy?
It actually used to be called Tall Tales. I wanted to look at the idea of growth and success; the obsession with outward appearance; images and their proliferation and power; the Philippines, with an image prescribed for it, first as an object and then as a market. As a Filipina who grew up mostly outside the country, I’ve struggled with my identity and my relationship with the Philippines. I tended to get caught up with my own image, how I appeared to others, instead of accepting myself and opening myself up to others. Going back to the title, Big Boy just seemed more personable.
You have a set of shorts under your belt. What made you decide to try making a full-length film?
To get these scenes out of my head! Seriously, I think this helped me let go of these stories and fantasies, to come to terms with them. I’ve realized now that making a film, or anything at all, for that matter, has to balance discipline and rigor with openness and humor to what comes your way.
Why shoot it on Super 8?
Super 8 has an intimacy unlike other formats. The film itself is very small, literally 8mm, so the projected images are really grainy, but that gives them a very visceral effect, kind of like recalling memories. It was harder than we thought, though. Each roll of Super 8 is only two and a half minutes, so you can’t shoot a take any longer than that. We had more than a hundred rolls! We also had trouble with sound, because the camera itself was just so loud. But separating sound from the image opens up a lot of possibilities.
You collaborated with other notable directors, including Pam Miras and, of course, John Torres, on this film. How was it working with them?
Oh gosh, they really brought so much to the film. They would all tease me about making it so hard for everyone—a period film, with kids, on Super 8—but would then reassure me that everything would be okay. One thing I found jarring was shooting the scenes out of order, on account of scheduling conflicts and the weather.
Pam was great with the kids and really made it easier for us just knowing what to expect, having directed and produced her own films. Gym [Lumbera] lit the film beautifully using only available or minimal lighting, not to mention lightening our moods. Both he and John provided their own crazy ideas, making me see things in different ways, while John always reminded me of the bigger picture, making sure I didn’t take all day on one scene. These guys, and the whole crew, made everything come together.
How about working with the kids?
The kids are all non-actors from the towns where we shot. I actually didn’t want them to be so conscious about acting. I thought it was more important that they had a connection with the place. I got to admit it was pretty difficult, too, but having less dialogue and more atmosphere made it work. I have a soft spot for the moments when the kids were caught off guard, unscripted—being kids, having fun.
At the same time, it was a relief to have Ian with us. He was the only one with acting experience and helped especially with John Lloyd, who plays the main role, get inside the character of Julio, rather than just memorize his lines.
Having completed your first full-length project, do you think you’ll be making more?
I hope so. I had a vague but interesting dream a while ago… I can’t say what it was, but I think it may be onto something. [Laughs]
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Francis Magalona, Filipino
I first met Francis when I was about four years old. My kuya, an artist, was busy then painting a portrait of Francis Magalona in a one-eighth illustration board at our old kubo. The face was familiar. He’s the man behind the infectious patriotic song Mga Kababayan Ko. And I have watched him on the movie Mama’s Boys with Ogie Alcasid, Michael V., and Anjo Yllana.
I saw Francis as a revolutionary young face that will achieve great heights. He challenged the conventional music style of his age. His music paved way for the unification of the then-opposing sides of Pinoy hip-hop and rock by experimenting on the merging of rap with rock music. After all, music is the language that should unite us, not divide us.
But more importantly, I saw Francis as a young man, whose heart is united with his beloved land. He redefined patriotism. He made it easier for the youth of this generation to appreciate and understand. And he showed us how great a race and nation we are.
Pride. Identity. Meaning. Perhaps, he saw that before we can shout to the world that we love our country, we must first know what it really means to be a Filipino.
I saw Mga Kababayan Ko then as an anthem which promotes Pinoy pride and identity along with the songs Ako’y Isang Pinoy by Florante and Tayo’y mga Pinoy by Heber Bartolome (and later recorded and reinvented by the Man from Manila himself). These three songs, together with our regular Monday school anthem Ako ay Pilipino, were my first inspirations to love my country, to appreciate my Pinoy identity, and to be proud of my ancestry. And this was long before Pinoy Ako by Orange and Lemons.
But he was gone too soon. Had he not died on that fateful Friday noon of March 6, 2009, he may have personally done greater things for our country and to our countrymen.
But as in all war and tragedy, life continues. He may have gone too soon but his spirit, music, and legacy still continue. Thanks to her wife Pia and the rest of the Magalonas, the Francis Magalona Foundation was born.
The Francis Magalona Foundation was established to realize in each Filipino a true sense of Filipino pride, personal integrity and a commitment to positive change through awareness campaigns and personal development and skills building programs. Its tagline, Finding a Meaning in every Filipino, is an invitation to every Filipino to ask themselves the significance of their identities as a Filipino. How is it to be a Filipino? How do I promote my pride and identity to the whole world?
He may have gone at a young age but what is more important is that he had lived his life with meaning. He has influenced a whole generation. He has inspired many with his music. And with that, he is already immortal.
On his 47th Birthday, let us remember The Man from Manila who have inspired many by his great music, who have been a good father to his children, who have been a good husband to his wife, and who have been a modern example of Filipino Patriotism.
You may have gone Francis but your legacy of music and patriotism will remain in our minds and hearts forever.
Maligayang kaarawan at maraming salamat Kiko!
Kickass photo courtesy of scarypet.deviantart.com
