I can understand why Jessica Hagedorn's "Dogeaters," the novel and then the play, became a hit in the US. After all, anything coming from and about this side of the world must be exotic, right? The very title suggests a barbarism that has been accused of the Filipinos by their colonial masters through hundreds of years. A Fil-Am writer in New York writing about the Philippines... not only that but the Philippines at its most controversial and interesting time. It definitely has all the ingredients of a hit. That's for the American market. When writing about a group of people, it only follows that that group of people will be the hardest to please. And I am not pleased.

Asked if it was good by a friend, I could only muster a non-committal, "It was ok. It was not spectacularly good but it was ok." Pressed for more by the question, "Will you recommend it?" I answered, "Only if you have nothing to do. It's not a complete waste of money and time naman. But it's not something to really rave about. Go and watch 'Avenue Q' na lang." But one can only write so much in a text message so I felt compelled to write this review.

From the point of view of a Pinoy audience as myself, the play is soulless at best. Uninspiring. Clinical. Cold. Just some of the words that come to mind at the moment. I am not moved in any way. Not once in the more or less two hours of sitting in the dark theater am I transported back to the Martial Law era, when the play is supposedly set. I cannot sympathize with the characters. Any characters. They remain to be actors playing out roles for me onstage. I do not feel anger, hurt, shame nor pride. I do not feel. Period.

And don't get me wrong, the acting is quite good.

So what went wrong?

-The material is huge: the scope too wide, the story too thin. Logically, one will not be able to find anything wrong with the story. Everything is probable. Historical, even. But the depth of each life's story is inevitably sacrificed. What's more is that this play attempts to tell a nation's story.

-The problem of language. Perhaps it is practical to have it in English. It is, after all, originally a novel in English for the American audience, and then a play staged in Broadway. Watching it in Manila, however, makes it a bit difficult to believe that a junkie who lives in the slums of Tondo would talk to his uncle-pimp in English. Sure, they compensate by having a Filipino accent. Err, unfortunately, it does still ring false to a Pinoy's ear, just as the story itself carries with it a certain sense of detachment.

-I do not know how long and how extensive a research was done for this story but perhaps Hagedorn should be writing about the Fil-Am experience instead. Maybe then there could be some truth to the emotions in her story and it would not feel as clinical. It does not seem as if the story has any clear and deep understanding of a Pinoy's sensibilities at all. It claims to be a play about the Philippines and yet it does not feel Pinoy.

I cannot help but compare the play to "Avenue Q" because it was the last I watched before "Dogeaters" and I watched it in the same venue. "Avenue Q" had no pretensions. It simply is a story about a confused young man eager to know what life is all about as he searches for his purpose in life. It's about this one man who realizes how inadequate his college degree is, how immature and scared he is when it comes to love and commitment, how the internet is for porn...

And that's where "Dogeaters" ultimately fails. It attempts to tell so much and yet everything comes out as two-dimensional. It's soulless! *wails.

One of the many things that I miss about China is the food. Because I stayed in three cities that are at least seven hours by train from each other for a minimum of two months each, I also had the fortune of tasting at least three different kinds of gastronomic delights. And because I stayed in TieLing the longest, I miss the food from the northeastern part the most.

Imagine my delight when I chanced upon a restaurant called Dong Bei Shui Jiao (Northeast Dumplings) in Binondo when I accompanied Akoh on one of her Divisoria trips. Because we didn't have time to stop then, I made a mental note to check out the place next time. And because I had, and still have, a very bad sense of direction, it took quite some time before I was able to find it again, still with Akoh's help.

We bought a few uncooked orders to be taken home for dinner. I was instantly hooked. Dumplings are not very popular in the Philippines. Our Chinese food is usually limited to the food in the Southern parts of China, Taiwan and Hong Kong. I did not even know how important dumplings were in the Chinese culture if I had not gone to the north.

It was on our second visit when Akoh and I decided to stay there to eat when I read the article that the couple who owns the place are from Shenyang. Shenyang is about an hour away from TieLing! They're authentic Northeastern people! No wonder their dumplings are so good! I chatted with the wife for a while, finding out they've been in Manila for about three years and how it's not easy to get used to the heat. But then now they can't seem to stand the cold in LiaoNing. That was funny. I used to always complain about the climate too.

But the point of this review is for you to go and try their dumplings. There are two kinds available for dine-in customers: pork and chives. Both are great. You can get one order and have one-half of each. The sauce is to die for. Plus it's not expensive at all (this coming from a cheapskate).

While there are still a lot of Chinese food that I love (and I'm beginning to forget the names of!) that aren't available in Manila, at least I can scratch dumplings off my list.

How to get there: From Binondo Church, walk until the next street to the left. There should be a street sign: Oriente. That's the one with the Metrobank at the corner. Walk down that street until you can't go straight anymore. You'll see the yellow Dong Bei Shui Jiao sign to the right of a dress shop called YiFu. It's a tiny and unassuming place, as opposed to the commercialized feel of Tasty Dumplings. No, I haven't tried Tasty Dumplings yet but from the looks (and tastes) of Dong Bei, I don't think I would in the near future. I am THAT satisfied, more like ecstatic, of it.

I can think of many different reasons not to like this movie: it's too talky, it's pretentious, this is how Dawson's Creek characters would talk after they finish college, etc etc. But the fact is I liked it. I liked it so much that I watched it two days in a row. And I'm still thinking about it now and wishing I had written it. Damn Noah Baumbach.

"Kicking and Screaming" is about a group of just-graduated-from-college friends who sit around talking to each other about seemingly inessential things instead of living their lives. Or, as Chet puts it and I paraphrase, "This IS my life."

Six years out of college and I still feel that this movie is about my life (minus the sleeping with freshmen part). It just shows how far I've come since I got my undergrad diploma, huh?

It's angsty. It's witty. It's funny. It's depressing. I love it!

There's Grover, unable to move on after his girlfriend moved to Prague. There's surly Max who moans at his loss of identity. I don't remember the exact line but it's something like, "A few hours ago I was Max (forget the last name), a senior. English major. Now I'm just nothing." There's Otis, leaving for Milwaukee for his Master's but somehow always manages to put things off. And then there's Skippy who reenrolls for fear that he missed things while he was in school.

And I know this might be a spoiler to people who had never seen it but would want to, but the last scene is just too kilig not to mention.

"Grover: Ok, the way I see it, if we were an old couple, dated for years, graduated away from all these scholastic complications, and I reached over and kissed you, you wouldn't say a word, you'd be delighted, probably, but if I was to do that now it'd be quite forward, and if I did it the first time we ever met you probably would hit me.

Jane: What do you mean?

Grover: I just wish we were an old couple so I could do that."

Oh, and this was released in 1995. I was 15 in 1995. My angst was of a totally different nature at that age. No wonder I wasn't able to write it first.

I was in Beijing for about a week when I finally stepped in a bookstore that sells English books. Imagine me salivating as I faced rows upon rows of books that I can finally consume. I didn't know where to start satisfying my thirst for the written word that was unquenched for a year except for the books that I brought from Manila and some mostly unentertaining magazines lying around the house, probably left behind by former foreign teachers.

One of the books that caught my attention is Leaving Mother Lake, because of the mother-daughter theme that it promises in its blurb. This might give me some inspiration for my own novel, I thought. It also tells of a matriarchal society where, among other things, property is passed on from mother to daughter and marriage is considered a foreign custom. Interesting, I said to myself. And because there were other books to keep me occupied, it sat on the floor or any other of my makeshift bookshelves for about a month.

One night though, as I was eating and drinking with some of the athletes in one of their rooms, someone mentioned a place in China where a woman can have many lovers and where the identity of her children's father is none of anyone's business but hers alone. One of the female athletes was quick to make me understand that this is only in a small village in Yunnan and not the usual practice in China.

It was after a few more nights when I remembered to look more carefully at the book's introduction, and then started reading the book itself to see if it was the same group of people that they mentioned. Sure enough, the Moso group can be found in Yunnan and yes, theirs is a completely different world that would probably most resemble utopia. Except this one is real, however misunderstood and misrepresented.

In Moso country, everything is shared. Even lovers. Their word for father is very rarely used as children call their mother's lover "uncle" even if he is their father. Sometimes children never know who their fathers are. It is perfectly normal to exchange children among sisters and neighbors. One is expected to live in her mother's house and raise her own children and aspire to be a Daba, the head of the household.

Despite all the differences, ultimately the book is about a daughter who time and again has disappointed her mother and her people by desiring something almost unimaginable, that of a life outside their small village. It is about pride for one's people and culture even as the government has on several occasions forced them to a life totally alien to them. It is about alienation in both a world where one was born in and a world one has adopted.

And it is good. It is really good. Enough to make me want to write this entry when I could have just slept or moved on to the next book. This of course does not do justice to what the book is. You have to read it. So go.

There is nothing impressive about the DVD cover. Looking at it, I was not really expecting too much. It looked like something from the early 90s, low budget, and just a tad melodramatic. I decided to gamble on it though because of the blurb at the back which says, "'Me and You and Everyone We Know' is a poetic and penetrating observation of how people struggle to connect with one another in an isolating and contemporary world." I figured, sure I would like to watch a poetic and penetrating observation of how people like myself try to connect with "everyone I know" and some whom I don't.

Let's just say that I am pleasantly surprised. Everything I like in a movie is here. It's intelligent and funny and sensitive and moving, and no it's not melodramatic. I can almost hear my Creative Writing profs lecturing on how it is very much possible to not be sentimental but still convey sentiments. This movie has certainly achieved that. Sure it's not full of beautiful people which I must admit are pleasant to watch, but for this movie, it works. It makes it even more endearing. They could be your next-door neighbors! And you actually start to care for these people! I know, I know, I'm gushing. One other thing, it was actually released in June 2005. That's as contemporary as it can get.

I think I must mention that this movie is written and directed by Miranda July, who also plays Christine, a multimedia artist, one of those doing the struggling to connect thingies. I'll be on the look out for more of her works. Check out this site too: http://www.comingsoon.net/films.php?id=8623

This movie is alternately funny and depressing. It tells the life of an animator, Ryan Larkin, who showed so much promise as a young man. He was nominated for the Oscars thirty years ago. It shows him now as a homeless forgotten genius begging for spare change.
His is a life that every artist fears. How can one create something that equals his last masterpiece? What happens if his well of creativity runs dry? "Sometimes it's not about the money" but why does it still matter anyway?
It's been a long time since I last felt totally moved by a movie. It's so good it will make you want to weep.

I stumbled on this website: http://www.identitytheory.com/backpage/backpage_603.html and I really liked it, especially the short story at the bottom of the page titled "The Certainty of Things". I'm going back now and explore it more.