Photo by Don Vytiaco

March closed with a screenwriting workshop, led by Aaron Rahsaan Thomas, who’s now a supervising producer for CSI:NY. I’ve never watched an episode of CSI:NY and I tend to shy away from programs like that (which are called procedurals) because I tend to favor character-driven shows. The real reason why we even went to that two-day workshop was because Aaron Thomas was a staff writer for Friday Night Lights, even writing two episodes during his stint.

It’s been almost a week since we left that workshop and I don’t even have notes or a vague idea for a story. It’s kind of depressing. Watching behind-the-scenes footage and extras on DVDs made me really want to be a part of something so completely collaborative, like television. In particular, the footage from the LOST DVDs that featured the writer’s room and a big binder of notes they kept for six season’s worth of continuity. It seemed like such a great thing to be a part of, especially someone like me, a big fan of television.

Aaron talked about the structure of a procedural—an episodic series divided into twenty-two or so 40-minute, goal-oriented episodes—and we sort of got to write the teaser (the segment at the beginning, before the credits, where the main premise of the episode is revealed) and Act One (the first seven-or-so-minute chunk before a commercial break) collectively.

It was hard to get a general concensus, because everyone had their own ideas that they seemed to fixate on. I kind of just quietly sniggered and sighed, being in the midst of a lot of professional writers and such who already worked for local networks. It seemed unnecessary to speak just so I could complain about ideas instead of being constructive. Anyway, most of what they threw around and played with were not my cup of tea. I already saw the disparity between the shows that are locally produced (telenovelas, the kind of humor they liked, etc.) and the shows that I enjoyed, and it made me sad that it didn’t seem like they intersected at all.

Because a really big part of me wants to work in television, but it doesn’t seem like local television has room for the shows that I want to make.

I am moved by series that center on coming-of-age, especially those that confront issues in a raw and honest way. I love it when shows speak to me through the characters, genuinely and believably. I love the brutality of feelings, the tragicomedy of high school, the overwhelming weight of things that matter now.

To tell you the truth, I have no idea what I used to be really sad about when I had been growing up. But we get hurt as we grow older, and we heal. We forget, or we think we forget.

These shows that I love so much, they’re reminders of the things that had mattered in the moment, and how intensely they felt to us at the time. I think I want to create stories that allows people to look back on—or experience at once!—these growing pains. To take those hurts and feelings of weightlessness, and preserve them in stories people can look back on, alone, together or apart. To remember, and maybe to forget. To detach or reacquaint ourselves with the very things that first taught us how to feel.

I digress, because I sought out to write about the workshop and how different it is where he is from (Los Angeles) and how it works here in Manila. But, I ended up talking about feelings and growing up, and that’s what I would love to write about. That, or something else wholly consuming, a web of stories, characters, and relationships that you grow and fall in love with.

I’m not interested in pushing the drama to ridiculous points to rake in ratings, and maybe that’s where I would falter if I worked here. I’m interested in making stories and using television as a way to share them with people. Sadly, it feels as though there is little room in the Philippines—maybe the world—for this kind of creating and collaboration.

I want to have a voice, but I’m not exactly sure where to start.

I rarely ever write about television anymore—or any form of popular culture, for that matter—and I don’t necessarily engage in fandom as much either, but I’ve been faithfully watching something kind of vapid with my sister. This week, Pretty Little Liars‘ second season came to a close. And now you know why I have been painfully carrying this obsession. And now I am going to take a break and write about this dumb show that I love watching so much.

Possible spoilers under the cut

Ministry Work (and Wood Textures)

I don’t get to do a lot of ministry work anymore, so when someone contacted me to design something for CCF, I got excited. After a bit of bumps, I was able to layout a few pages and I made a cover for the materials. This isn’t the final design, though, but I’m posting it because I’m kinda liking the pretty lightbulb (c/o Jeanine Garcia!) with that wood texture.

 
Television: Watching and Writing About It
Currently spazzing over LOST and a few comedies (e.g. Community, Modern Family, Parks & Recreation). Also getting into animated series (e.g. Ugly Americans, Archer) and this HBO series called How To Make It In America. I know, I’m a little bit crazy but I really can’t say ‘no’ to good T.V.! Sometimes, I can’t even say it to bad T.V. but that’s beside the point.

However, I still do love my old favorites, so I wrote a piece on New Slang about Jordan Catalano and Brian Krakow. Please read it, if you please!

 
Blue Roast
To be honest, the whole thing kind of felt a little exclusive (as in… excluding a lot of us, LOL. Just kidding. But I felt a little alienated is all, I guess), but I was with great people, and there was great music, and there were great films. So more or less, I had an O.K. time. :)

Making a Blue Roast video… Or trying to. Stay tuned for it!

 
Sribbler Too!

I already posted one over here, but it’s so fun to use to write or draw with. Try it!

 
Gifts!
My friend Carla found this little gem and gave it to me. I was super happy because I’ve never seen a license plate with my name on it (I usually end up getting ‘Samantha,’ which is my second name). So, thanks, Carla! I really love it so much, I could cry.

You could say that, at one point in my life, I was a pretty big Gleek. I can’t help it; the show has appeal. It’s like High School Musical, but with songs I already know, sung by mostly good self-deprecating teenagers and also, it has Jane Lynch. Glee has been on hiatus for months now, and will be until April, so in some weird, desperate need to get a fix, I started watching reruns. And as I watched it again, I stood by as what seemed to be the most promising show in television today crumbled right before my very eyes.

To say that Glee is a terrible show is unfair, because it does have its merits. But Glee capitalizes on the knowledge that their songs are catchy and their leads, attractive. The ensemble cast is funny enough, the milieu is safe enough (Come on, who doesn’t like a good coming-of-age setting?), and the song choices are also pretty palatable to the ear. The show is so complacent in its obvious appeal that it neglects real and solid character and plot development. The characters are caricatures that exist only to sing and make jokes, and to sometimes add in a few minor plot points, some of which seem to have no bearing, at all, to the general, encompassing story, and are not even referenced again.

The characters are vague and stereotypical, it’s easy to write in whatever sort of personality to them, making it convenient for the writers to put in whatever sort of tension that they need to keep things interesting. In “Mash-Up,” the show introduces the Rachel/Puck angle… and abandons it, completely. It makes you root for Will and Emma, because Emma is likable and Will’s conniving wife, Terry, is her complete foil and has no redeeming qualities to her, whatsoever.

This wouldn’t be such a problem, since good, well-sung songs and humor seem like sound qualities to build a show on. But because it seems that Glee is trying to make a connection with the actual, alienated teenagers that they try to portray. These characters exist for the audience to be able to relate to them. But the problem is that there is no consistency to their characters and the things that they do. The third episode, “Acafellas,” which aired prior to Kurt’s coming out to his father in “Preggers,” shows us that his father disapproves of his homosexuality (he took away his car!), but we see them bonding the episode after, and beyond, particularly in epsiode 8, “Wheels.” Jane Lynch’s character, Sue Sylvester, is portrayed as a jerkface but humanizes her in the same episode by giving her a sister with Down syndrome, and then the show steals back the humanity almost instantaneously when Sue sabotages the Glee club by leaking their set list to their competitors in “Hairography,” just because she can.

Glee is funny, and I really do admire this kind of humor, having been a fan of creator, Ryan Murphy’s previous teen-oriented series, Popular. But it seems like the show often overshoots and misses the mark. Buried in the songs and the jokes are “heartfelt” and “touching” scenes end up seeming like affectations. It seems like the show’s creators know where they want the show to go, but add so much extraneous details that cause it to look overworked, uninspired and just messy. They tackle issues such as premarital sex, disabilities, popularity and infidelity, but they take them so very lightly. These issues are usually approached humorously, and it is unnerving because there is a certain disconnect, with what it seems they are trying to do — which is communicate and connect with their audience.

There is also very little extended narrative, and it bases the progression of the story on what would likely be the most well-received stories. As if to say, “Never mind the already established relationships and backstories, we give the audience what they want.” And it’s just so messy. It feels, to me, that the awards that Glee has won are premature. There is a lot of space for Glee to grow, and I do think that it has potential, but I don’t think they deserve their awards just yet.

I’m still going to be watching, because I’m a sucker for musicals (and Lea Michele is fantastic as Rachel Berry). Hopefully things will turn up, by the time the show starts up again, because I genuinely think that Glee could be much, much better than what it is now.

———
And this scene from Community‘s 18th episode, “Basic Genealogy,” just because it’s funny and timely:

capped by JP del Mundo

Pierce: It’s okay, it’s okay. Let it out.
Jeff: We always used to watch the shows she wanted to watch. I hate Glee.
Pierce: Eh, I’m not crazy about Glee either.
Jeff: I hate it. I don’t understand the appeal at all.

Ever since November 2009, I have been itching to write this entry on Doctor Who. The thing is, I couldn’t because I hadn’t finished viewing all of series 1 (traditionally, series 27) through 4. I was taking a television class under Andrew Ty last semester, and before I knew it, I was hooked. We ended class, exactly, with the last episode of series 2, a two-parter that left me wanting to find an empty bathroom stall and just cry.

THE PREMISE OF THE SHOW: Doctor Who isn’t about any doctors, ironically. In case you are not in the know (which, I find, most people outside of Britain, including me, are), Doctor Who is about an unnamed character simply referred to as The Doctor. He is a Time Lord from a planet called Gallifrey, and he goes traveling in a blue Police Box called the TARDIS, or Time And Relative Dimension In Space. Essentially, it is a time machine.¹ Occasionally, the Doctor has a companion with him. The Doctor’s companions are usually there to help him “operate” the TARDIS and go traveling with him, but more often than not, they end up assisting him in, usually, saving the Universe.

If you’re going to start with Series 1, then the companion you will meet is Billie Piper. (If you don’t remember who Billie Piper is, let me refresh your memory.) The Doctor is played by Christopher Eccleston, who is brilliant in his portrayal of the Time Lord. He is menacing and endearing at the same time, simultaneously beautiful and terrible.

However, the most famous and iconic regeneration (we’ll get to this in a while) of the Doctor in recent years is played by David Tennant, who also played Barty Crouch, Jr. in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Before I prattle on and on and on, here are five reasons why you absolutely must watch Doctor Who. In list form, just because I love you.

Why you should watch Doctor Who:

1. IT’S IMPORTANT.
   This is kind of a lame reason, but it’s true. Doctor Who is a British television series that began in 1963, went on hiatus in 1989 and was resurrected in 2005 by BBC. It’s important because majority of the people who grew up in London, grew up with Doctor Who.

   Now, Reason Number One isn’t necessarily a “convincing” criterion, in terms of why you should watch it, but it’s something to be considered. Discounting 7th Heaven (because it is obviously crap but that is a different story altogether), most shows that last this long do so because they are integral to popular culture as well as society. They perpetuate some longstanding legacy, with a “character” that develops alongside the context within which it operates.

   People have been watching Doctor Who since the 1960s. There have been ten (eleven in April) reincarnations of the Doctor, by way of regenaration, which is a process Time Lords undergo in order to somehow “cheat death”. I won’t go into the specifics, but that’s a basic explanation as to the change of casting for his character. Fans have their own favorites, and have dubbed each of them, fittingly as “my Doctor.”

   There are also, in existence, several Dalek (Time Lords’ sworn enemies, basically) costumes, and cookies, as well as recreations and references to the TARDIS, like such:
   

   

   Pretty much, all I’m trying to say is: it’s a pretty big deal. And there’s a good reason why.

2. IT’S FUN.
   Come on! Time-travel. History. Aliens. Bad Guys. Good Guys. Silly Guys. Meddlesome (but somehow charming) Family Members. Running, lots of running. Chaos. Madness. Explosions. Suits. A Police Box Flying Through Space. Space! Seriously, how could you ever have resisted?

   Any way you look at it, there is really just an inherent fun element in Doctor Who. There’s usually a bunch of new characters (although sometimes they reprise bad guys and other familiar faces), new settings, and new old settings in an episode. There is also always some ridiculous element that somehow works to the advantage of the show. The TARDIS itself, when you think of it outside of the context and the developed “lore” of the show, is pretty ridiculous. However, this peculiarity gives character to the show that is so distinctly itself.

   And while Doctor Who is decidedly a science fiction show, which puts a lot of people off because they think that it is largely set in outer space (i.e. Battlestar Galactica), it actually explores and speculates already established historical events such as the fall of Pompey, Shakespeare’s lost play, the origin of werewolves and the disappearance of Agatha Christie.

3. It’s funny.
   I’ve tried very hard, but I can’t put my finger on why Doctor Who is funny, or in what way it is. I’ve chalked it up to the fact that the Doctor is an alien. So he’s naturally funny. (Flawed logic, I know.) But, sometimes, it just really seems as though he does not mean to be funny at all.

   How to describe it? Some of the companions are funny (Donna is my favorite), and they poke fun at everything. Their mannerisms, scripts, speculations almost always have humor. The aliens are sometimes funny (The first meeting with the Ood in a series 2 episode, “The Impossible Planet,” always has me in stitches), as are some of the guest/minor/recurring characters. It’s silly, obvious fun, but never of the slapstick kind.

   If you would be so inclined as to direct your attention to this spoiler-free collection of funny clips that I did not make:
   

   And this other one, just because it makes me giggle:
   

4. It’s interesting.
   Aside from the stuff I’ve mentioned, there’s more to Doctor Who. Loads of themes are explored in the series that are dark, serious and, surprisingly relevant. Although contextualized in an often alien environment, issues like slavery, morality, ethics, existentialism, family, loneliness, technology, the abuse of power, and so on, are actually sort of illuminated very effectively. Even though they’re set in a different context, there is still some sort of familiarity present because they’re tackling issues that could very easily have been experienced by the audience.

   The program also lends two perspectives: a more removed, learned and strange one from the Doctor, and a humanized and emotional one from the companion. Because there is a certain detachment from the issues, we are given the opportunity to confront them in a much different way than we do in real life.

5. It’s not the kind of show that takes itself too seriously.
   Let’s face it: the downfall of a lot of television shows that are currently on these days is the constant pursuit of Being Taken Seriously. Good news is that Doctor Who doesn’t really care whether or not you take it seriously. While difficult themes are tackled by the show in each episode, Doctor Who is not afraid to laugh at itself.

   The show effectively combines humor, science fiction, theoretical physics², drama, adventure, and suspense (I’m looking at you, Steven Moffat) altogether, resulting in a very lovely hour each week. The scripts are well-written, the actors are brilliant, and it approaches each episode with a certain playfulness that doesn’t sugar-coat the dark stuff, but also doesn’t present them in a melodramatic manner, or as an affectation.

   In many ways, the show is like the Doctor, who bears such a heavy burden on his shoulders, has had such a dark history, and has lost a lot of what he holds dear, and yet: he manages to crack up a smile, and carry on.

If you’ve read this far into the entry (meaning, you actually finished it), it means that you are interested, even if only vaguely, in the show. Do yourself a favor and watch it already. Allons-y!³

———
¹ It is also bigger on the inside!
² I might just be making this up.
³ This is French for “Let’s go!” Ten says it all the time.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been meaning to write about something but I can’t seem to get started on it until after I get this off my non-existent chest: I love television. There’s just really something about it that “draws me in,” so to speak. I love it so much that, I took a class on Television as an elective on the last semester of my entire life as a student. (Maybe.) I love it so much that, instead of writing a paper for Political Science due tomorrow, I watched five episodes of a T.V. show that I had already seen. Thank God for afternoon classes, am I right?

I love it so much that even my e-mail seems to know, as in the process of writing this entry, this appears on my inbox:

I know, precious. I know.

I don’t even know where I’m going with this, I just felt the need to write about something that I love so much. I guess it’s partly the fact that the last season of LOST is airing tomorrow (inwardly flailing… as well as outwardly) and also partly because the last episode of Dollhouse, ever, aired last week. It’s a mixture of excitement for something I have waited for for so long, and also of sadness and relief due to the semblance of closure I was left with when Joss Whedon answered all my questions and justified (most of) the mindfrakkery that went along with watching his most recent series.

I suppose, in a way, that’s exactly what I’m setting myself up for, for the sixth and final chapter of LOST. This season is decidedly important because a) it will reveal to the world the secrets behind the island, and b) we finally get to know who (what?) Richard Alpert is. Those aren’t the only unanswered questions, obviously. I mean, considering everything that’s been happening to that show since the first season, I think the writers really have some ‘splaining to do. I only wish I had the time to list them all down.

And I just know that when it airs tomorrow, I will be excited and frightened and also, sad, because it’s just another step bringing us closer to the end. And even though I want to watch them forever and ever on my television screen, I know it’s not going to be possible. The wonderful part of being attached to T.V. characters is that you (hopefully) get to see them grow and be the people that the writers and visionaries intended them to be. The sad part is that you really have to let go of them, eventually. (I’m talking to you, 7th Heaven.)

But I still do miss you, Topher Brink.