Incubator, 003

Beware the Holy Whore

Rainer Werner Fassbinder, enfant terrible, of German filmmaking maintains his hood status with me because of the unholy capacity to do work, and an output to match…

How do I liken his work? I generated this quote/aspiration some years ago, based on watching a handful of films, reading a couple of books…

“I want to make films that make you wake up in the middle of night, say 3 AM, sobbing, and eventually vomiting.”

Okay, so thats pretty encoded in all sorts of meaning, so I’ll be a little more specific. There are only so few filmmakers that I know of that have the capability to tap into a malaise so deep, so endemic, yet interwoven so deeply that said malaise would be undetectable, say for the occasional inexplicable depressions that we all experience, and the matching hope that pulls us out of it…

F*ck Emo and slittin’ wrists, Bukowski’s drunken and maddening typing at night, or even Van Gogh’s missing ear, RWF is the real shit when it comes to tapping into ilalim ng malungkot/melancholy next to fisherfolk in the Philippines, and Greek tragedians.

As a side note, Fassbinder’s in Jessica Hagedorn’s Dogeaters, a humble but recognizable presence (Thanks to my boy T for pointing this out).

Get out there and watch. Get out there are read.

Incubator, 002

Filipino Village circa 2004. San Diego, National City. It was a space that seemed contested. Arguably, it still is, however, several factors, including budgetary shortfalls or re-appropriations leave the project in a purgatory littered with egos and history.

Combine all of these real or imagined implications with a bust of Jose Rizal – all that he represents, and is known for – in front of a Seafood City Supermarket…

… mix in San Diego’s Filipino population…

… with provincial humor, candor, and sentimentality (a la Fireman’s Ball)…

Add equal parts aging self-proclaimed scion for truth, and an aged trophy aktibista as strong opposing poles …

you have one awesome vignette for my feature.