Monday, December 14, 2009

Foolish Academy

Granted that I am an atheist in the Grand Church of Serendipity I may have to rethink my belief very soon because of Auteur Cris Pablo’s calibrated sense of synchronicity. It is as if his tuning fork is hotwired to my Blog Suicide Nerve and for some inexplicable reason he always manages to unleash a new opus precisely at the time when my so-called blogging tendency screeches to an abrupt coma. He is my fortuitous hero, as necessary as electroshock, caffeine and violent tropical cyclones which are the only legal means to tear Boy Abunda and Kris Aquino billboards off EDSA. So! Crisaldo Pablo, I am hugely indebted; so are the three imaginary fans of my drivels who will be happy to erect tasteful shrines in their respective rooms in your honor, because it would mean this blog will not be permanently consigned into the gaping online black hole.

I just had my essential Cris Pablo Opus fix and I am pleased to report that I had a blast although in the interest of fairness I will put into record that my circulatory system doesn’t agree with me—forty minutes into the movie my brain threatened to leak off my ears and I cannot feel both my legs. But I have such faith in our beloved Auteur’s competence and my fortitude is rewarded with dreadful acting, hyper-camp, and conversational inflections that can only exist in Cher’s Do You Believe In Love if played in lethargic speed.

The Opus of Interest in this issue of LoudCloud Drivel From Hell is Campus Crush.

Cris, I have handful questions: Is it so difficult to stalk Simon Atkins and offer him a part while he’s lining up for latte in the neighborhood Starbucks? How challenging would it have been to study hypnosis and while Chris Tiu was still a Balls-clutching sophomore swing a pendulum in his face and give us something to justify the title? Considering what I just saw, isn’t Campus Crash a little more appropriate?

I am asking because all the characters playing the parts of campus heartthrobs have Star Mall-variety highlights, love handles, beer guts and skin textures that will induce spontaneous orgasms in Vicky Belo knowing these young men will fill the quota in subsidizing her next boyfriend’s Porsche.

Anyway, Campus Crash—I am sorry, I didn’t mean to be caustic about this—Campus Crush even, is about barely legal boys populating a preppy school. If one has to judge from their uniforms then Oh Lord, I am no Hamish Bowles or The Sartorialist, or in any stretch of imagination, Andre Leon Talley but for the love of everything Holy let me ask again: Who designed those uniforms?! In my perverse imaginings my idea of Horny Preppy would be Ralph Lauren designing for Bel Ami freshmen but nothing ever prepared me for grey argyle-patterned vests, purple ties, puff short sleeves for men and pleated, baggy brown trousers inspired by repeated viewings of MC Hammer’s Can’t Touch This video. Also I have been holding my breath all throughout the movie, fearing for the school crest to fall off the vest because they appear like paper stickers printed in deskjets and slapped in the chest areas.

Cris, the uniforms alone are worth the ticket price! Thank you!

And let’s also not dwell on this blessed academy’s facilities. If you have affluent young gay students who can afford to bribe fellow students with iPhones and laptops for blowjobs how come you can’t afford to hire decent maintenance staff? There were brittle leaves that haven’t been raked since 1995, a lawn populated by weeds sharing Senator Juan Ponce Enrile’s birthday and goats grazing in the running track oval. Where is the janitor? Was he fired or is he in the boiler room servicing horny young brats?

The campus crushies are a wild band of ill-shaped boys who had a fraternity-like mission to do something noble for the campus’ Gender Equality Week: they will have sex with assorted losers as an act of goodwill. Whoever among the heartthrobs swaps bodily fluids with the grand loser among losers wins the betting pool. I am sorry, but is this trend catching up in in either University of Asia and the Pacific or Ateneo? I’d say it should be, if the school administrators care deeply about stuffing the bottom line!

Campus Crush elevated Cris Pablo from local indie moviedom’s digital visionary to Utopian Philosopher, hormonally speaking. It’s like Horndogs Without Borders! Or Greenpeace merging with Make-A-Wish while colliding with Oprah and a spool of pubic hair! And I defy anyone to challenge Jobert Sucaldito in thinking that this idea is insane!

At the heart of Campus Crush is this timid, smart nerd who, in my warped view, is much cuter than the object of his nocturnal erections. He is so convinced he is a loser and I wanted to yell at him to get a grip, find a comb and a tube of Ponds facial wash. Timid Twink diligently does his crush and best friend’s academic work, admires from a distant, keeps to himself and carry on with quiet dignity that I was half expecting Cardinal Gaudencio Rosales to show up and hand him a notice for instant beatification. He wears nerdy glasses and has such a good heart that whenever he and his flamingly swishy best friend do the people watching routine he would always raise a “Perfect” scorecard regardless of whether the one that passes by is good looking or a human equivalent of a can opener. Is anyone buying this? Is there a person this kind and meek? Does he really have a loving heart or is just someone in dire need for an appointment to an optometrist to update the grade of his spectacles?

Timid Twink’s ultimate crush is of course the Campus Crush who lives alone in a mansion filled with ornate sofa carvings and theater variety draperies. It is an interior concept not so stranger in the life of Ricky Reyes and April Boy Regino. CC is supposed to be really lonely inside because his parents are always away and to show his profound sadness he strips naked as he climbs up the staircase while the image of the blessed Santo NiƱo looks on in the stairway niche. CC grew fond of Timid Twink but his sincerity and intent was questionable because really, would you never doubt a potential date that made it his mission to be the walking equivalent of a pawnshop? Given his pair of clunky earrings, necklace and bracelet band he’s either channeling Mr.T or advertising his folks’ mining trade.

Then there’s the pyrotechnic of a flaming best friend who single-handedly regaled the movie with campy verbal fireworks and in the process salvaged the unsuspecting audience from irreversible blackout.

Between Timid Guy, the out-of shape “heartthrobs”, the flaming best friend and repeated exposure to ill-fitting, graphic-print super-skimpy swimming gears I’m already too drunk with absurdity to care how the movie progressed or figure out what the true plot is! I was busy howling in ridiculous glee. Cris Pablo, you are a gem, and I truly mean it. It is my fondest hope that your Artistic Vision of Hunk For Losers would be passed into law by congress as rather apt replacement for ROTC because if that happens, only then we can truly achieve genuine world peace.

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Catch a screening of
Campus Crush It's currently showing in Robinsons Cinemas.

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