ES2PIDO|Estudyanteng Pinoy Dormitorian

I worked as a four(supposedly five)-thousand-peso-worth two-week Production/Office assistant of Gil Portes during my summer vacation. I was referred to Portes by one of our instructors in CvSU to be one of his student production assistants. (Actually, I was the only one).

Lucky that it only lasted for two weeks. Haha. Don’t ask me. Ask his driver. ^_^

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‘FIRST’ TIMENESS

It was actually my second time to watch a premiere showing of a movie, but this one felt as the very first with all the glamour and exquisite sophistication of the people in formal attire and accent of English, Castiliano, and rhotic Taglish. Upon hearing their intricate twang, I feel like I’m the poorest person on Earth. Not to mention being the dumbest and the most fascinating Squidwarddish walking iron-eating-bamboo on the cosmos with my Classic URight Bavarian-colored T-Shirt and a sloppy pair of fade-out jeans. Plus the stainless-steel-teeth. Kinda resembled the male counterpart of Ugly Betty.

First time for a fugly Hobbit to indugle in crappy formal events in cinemas. First time for a Cavite migrant to land on Greenbelt Cinemas.

But honestly, I thought Sailormoon was there. I was welcomed with a lot of men in tuxedos and women dressed fashionably in gloomy but shining shimmering dark shades of brown, blue, and black. A few dared to ramp with light shades and denim. Talk about looking like the commoners of suburban/metropolitan fanaticos whose eyes were into the crippled (joke) leg-broken Luis Allandy with their digicams raving with anticipation. Not to mention the faculty who joined us for the cocktail party who giggled after one of my colleagues took a close-up shot of Luis.

Nope. No photos here. Envy the digicam owners. Wish I could have one. Sheesh.

We waited for about 3 hours before the actual start of the cocktail party. We ventured the smoky smithereens of Metropolitan smog 5 hours earlier just to find out that the film is actually gonna start at 7 pm. With that, I frustrate myself for eating a sloppy Java rice (which honestly looked like a cup-molded kanin with Achuete extract) and Salisbury steak that tasted like Jollibee burger patties. I forgot the name of that Sizzling fastfood for the hell I care.

The moment I walked in the sosyaling Greenbelt cinemas, I was intimidated. Why the hell Cinemas would be as intricately designed as this one? Or maybe this is the only cinema I have seen so far. Makati outside, Galleria inside. Parang squatter tuloy ako.

Saw familiar faces at the cinema 1 entrance. Props for the cocktail party were already set. Some members of the press were waiting (for me, joke). Waiters carrying canapes (drool all over). My head was moving counterclockwise when I suddenly cracked my head with a very familiar voice:

Uy, kayo, andito na pala kayo.

It’s Direk, calling us to grab nine of his movie tickets for the screening.

Too bad, he doesn’t seem to remember my name but the familiar face of one young boy who taught him how to send e-mails.

He approached me and shook my hands with excitement. The typical ‘como estas’ dialogo. Plasticity is the best policy.

Days of working with him flashed back into my mind the time he pat his palm on mine. It was nostalgic–the Tropical Hut meals on the PC desk, the Mocha Java coffee I bought, the 3-hour commuting on Jasper buses, the stinky smell of Salmonella and E coli, the vegetarian Kare-kare, the backstabbing of showbiz personalities and personnel, the talk-about-who inside private vehicles, the shouting, the cussing, the intimidation, the liquidations, the Quezon province journey–it cracked me up for about 30 milliseconds and eventually gained consciousness afterwards.

Eto po, I’m with my schoolmates. Musta po kayo?

It was sincere. He missed me and his pseudo basic scriptwriting orientation inside his office.

Then I got nine tickets directly from the director himself. Was lucky to have worked with him that gave me the opportunity to have a wonderful experience in the film industry even just a short while.

Upon receiving the tickets, I shifted ego.

Gutom na ako, I uttered to my former publication co-staffers.

(Whoah–ain’t I pride high enough to evade these guys for my goodness gracious character, direction, and career-building sake? Anyway,)

6:30 pm when the artistas came. No shouting or screaming presided. Total formality and procrastination was there. Fans and other moviegoers peeking to take a closer look of the celebrities. Showbiz. Cute guy in crutches. Dressed copper-skinned mulatto in distress. Lhar Santiago.

Then time came that people started queueing for the entry. I’m not sure if they’re excited for the movie or starving to get their hands on the canapé and Maria Sangria. I was hungry.

Stickers replaced tickets. Excitement was there for the fingerfoods. So-called press trying to squeeze in to enter but to no avail they were reprimanded. No fingerfood for him. Haha.

Then we indulge ourselves in the hands-on picking. Everything can be swallowed on one bite. But puhleease, why the hell their lumpiang longanisas taste like garbage? Just kidding. (No really, they taste like garbage, as if I have eaten one) I just didn’t like the sour flavor of sour sausages in lumpia wrappers albeit the most ’sosyaling longanisa on the planet’.

Also, it was then my realization that cocktail parties are not liberately obscene (yougetmahpoint?).

I didn’t notice I got myself full with the canapes being served. Yummy sauce-filled cupcakes, shrimp-on-stick, tokneneng-on-mayo, tidbit sandwiches, and others I can’t recall eating. Plus the cocktail and the iced tea I smooched, I’ve had a complete dinner for a formal cocktail fest. But no thanks, we were like maggots squeezing for stomach satisfaction, we actually appeared to be eyeing for the food rather than the premiere. Go figure.

And then the clock struck seven.

Shape-shifters finally divulged themselves. No sosyal-sosyalan. First come first serve. This is the excruciating part.

The cinema can only accomodate 160 persons for the guests. The middle section had already been reserved that’s why no evening gowns considered for physical empathy at the entrance. Paunahan. That was questionable. Lucky that we were able to squeeze in for not leaving the cocktail party premises. That is, if we were lucky.

Wait for my review of “Barcelona” by Gil M. Portes. But please, don’t expect it to be eargasmic and pleasing. The terror critic is here. Haha.

Categories: Tsismisan, Personalan