waiting for the war

[movie #5]

the last movie I saw was on Saturday, the last day of the festival. I didn't do as many movies this year, but these few I did see were good. and sorry for not posting earlier, but I had been trying to catch up at work. I have written three movie reviews, I just need to post them. and I want to put in a plug for a friend too. :)

we met up with everyone at the Paramount cinema, early to get a good seat as usual. it's hard to tell with a Takashi Miike movie. he's quite popular at the film festival and we love watching his gory, horror flicks. The Great Yokai War, however, is really a kids movie. so, we weren't too sure how popular this one was going to be. last year, we were surrounded by drunken knucklehead frosh. this year, it may be kids.

when we got there, we saw a big line up of kids. Y panicked as usual, and I swore he had bloodlust his eyes. he'd kick all of their asses if it meant being #1 in line again. but not to worry, I told him. I thought the kids were waiting for some Disney movie. many of the little girls were dressed like princesses. it was almost like being at a highschool formal (that's prom for all you Americans), except the girls weren't catty, just bratty.

...and so we were first in line again! this time, we were so early that there wasn't a line at all. the ushers just let us in. instead of standing around for 1.5 hours, we got to sit in an empty cinema, waiting for brucebruce, Y2, M2 and the-keeper-of-the-psycho-cat.

Y and eL trying to contain their excitement at being #1. well, Y is anyway.

joe waving at no one in the empty theatre, contemplating the sound of silence.

waiting for Linda

[movie #4]

I grabbed a quick bite at Tokyo Grill and ran up to Yorkville. we all met up at the rock in the ugly park, just next door to the Cumberland Cinemas, about an hour and half before the movie's start time. to Y's delight, we were first in line again!

joe trying to look really excited for being #1 again!

while brucebruce, sunshine, NoH, Y, Y2 and Y2's sister M2, all chatted, I was on the look out for any drunken celebrities crawling out from one of the posh, chi-chi bars or restaurants in the neighbourhood. if the paparazzi can make some money, I thought I could try too with Y's digicam. instead, some dude with the giant film programme book and his cameraman asked if we could move back just a bit. he wanted to take a photo for some promo thing for puma (the shoe). he plopped a big director's chair down, set down his ashtray stand, lit a cigarette, sat in the chair and struck a pose. the cameraman began shooting. I hid behind brucebruce, even though we'd all probably be removed from the photo anyway. he wasn't famous or anything, but I suddenly felt too embarrassed to take a photo of this scene for the blog. when puma guy and his cameraman left, I realized I'd make a lousy paparazzi.

but I'm not too embarrassed to take a photo of the gang!

waiting for the swordsmen

[movie #3]

we figured not much of a line up for an early morning movie in the middle of the week. Y and I got to the Paramount just a bit before 8 AM, and discovered that the cinema wasn’t opened yet. a group of us huddled around the door, where a volunteer came out periodically to tell us doors would be opened soon, "2 more minutes!" she says, and then quickly went back in. psych!

eventually we were let in, and then a mad dash up the escalators, with a fairly large crowd behind us. well, it turned out they were all waiting for another movie that started earlier. for our screening, the volunteer hadn’t even finished setting up the ropes for the line. we had to wait for him to finish, and once done, we were again the first in line. otherwise, nothing exciting happened. thank god the movie Seven Swords had lots of kung fu action. Paramount is so boring for film fest action!

my leg is tired from doing all those martial art moves. this particular move is called "Silent Tiger Reading on Mount Heaven." by the way, I actually do have an uncle who is a kung fu master!

obsessive emptiness gives Y much joy.

waiting for the damned

[movie #2]

Y and I got to the Paramount about two hours in advance, but we did not expect much of a line up. just in case, you know. we were, in fact, the first in line again, and it wasn’t until almost an hour later that four other people showed up behind us. Saints-Martyrs-des-Damnés did get a pretty full house eventually. nothing exciting happened otherwise, except for being held hostage by the food prices in the cinema. chicken fries at Burger King was $4! a simple chicken combo at KFC was almost $10! I splurged and got a whopper junior because I was hungry and was too lazy to go down four floors and across the street to the convenience store. after eating the burger, I did feel like I was waiting for the damn burger to digest.

first in line! yay!

oh, who is this? Heath Ledger? Brad Pitt? Jodie Foster?

waiting for capote

[day one]

we met eL for breakfast at some pub on Front St. the waitress couldn’t remember our orders and then served me sausage instead of bacon. blah. she claimed momentary impaired servitude. I claim cheap help is easy to find if you don’t give a damn.

we got to the Elgin, first in line. the Elgin is a wonderful theatre, apparently one of the last double-decker theatres in the world. that's right, there's a whole other theatre upstairs, the Winter Garden theatre, and it's beautiful. they do plays and musicals now at the theatres, as well as some opera. I remember years ago seeing a somewhat portly (but not corpulent) Don Giovanni belting out some song, while standing by a street lamp and removing his trenchcoat, only to reveal a very hairy chest. it looked like a sweater from the back row. but it was so elegant, otherwise! too bad Y forgot his digicam. you will all have to endure my crap phone cam, with no flash and bad resolution.

since it was the VISA screening room, we thought maybe we can get ahead of the line by flashing our VISAs. we got eL to ask the volunteer about the VISA card flashing ability and she was laughed at. It’s only for the evening screenings, and we’re already at the front of the line. we couldn’t be more "fronter" that that, as Y would say. but it wouldn’t be a film festival without Y’s panic insistence that we must be at the front of the line, 2 hours in advance. mind you, the rush line was already being filled by the time we got there.

slowly, people did begin to line up behind us and we got to read free Toronto Star newspapers while we waited. then two Motorola promotional people appeared, with knapsacks and completely clad in white, but in that glaring in the sun tacky white. first thought was, we three were definitely not the right people to approach. the Motorola girl, pretty but not pretty enough, asked us if we had Motorola phones. her promo-mate dopey guy dashed off as she started to talk. eL didn’t have one, so the girl aimed a quick pitch at her. eL shrank back against the wall, and looked like she would rather watch a Mel Gibson gospel movie than have to pretend to care. she raised her paper up a notch closer to her eyes.

Y and I were game to play along though. dopey guy came back and the M-girl whipped out the razr phone and proceeded to slowly push some buttons to get the trivia questions (she wasn't making this weird demonstration of the phone impressive). if I guessed two out of three photos correctly, I will win a prize, she announced. gawd, what prize I thought? please be a new phone! yeah. right.

she turned the phone to me to show me a photo. “That’s… um,” I began. I felt dopey guy’s impatience. clearly we weren’t showing enough enthusiasm, and if you know me, you can probably imagine my fake cheery withering voice, with a touch of sarcasm. “Um… that’s a terrible photo of Reese Witherspoon,” I answered finally. Did I say “terrible photo” loud enough, I thought? and that really was a terrible photo of Reese, she looked like she just finished a night filled with coke lines.

“Correct!” said M-girl. Dopey guy exclaimed, “That’s right, the Spoon!” he talked in that jocular sales guy sorta way, like a cliched meathead frat boy, but without any genuine energy since Y and I were standing there without yelling and talking like two frosh week pledges. eL continue to hide behind the paper.

M-girl showed me the next photo. “Oh that’s easy. It’s Orlando Bloom,” I said without hesitation. Not my type, but hey, I’m gay after all.

“Wow, we didn’t have to show you question three,” M-girl said and then promptly started to punch (slowly) more keys. damn, I thought. she showed me another blonde.

“Um… this one is hard.” it was actually hard because the photo was truly too small to make out any substantial details. “A bad photo of Gwen Stefani?” did I insult their phone enough, I wondered?

“Wrong! Lost in Translation,” said dopey guy.

“Oh. Oh. That’s, uh, Scarlett Johansson!” I said.

“That’s right!” Relieved, M-girl reached into her loot sack and whipped out a Motorola pen. Y and eL got black and white M&Ms. then dopey tried to ask us about who’s showing up to the screening. he didn’t know what the hell was showing, but eL mentioned Philip Seymour Hoffman might be around.

“I’ll go check for you,” he said blandly as he bounced back inside the theatre, abandoning M-girl. any excuse to not work the crowd, I suspect. moments later, he came back out and said unconvincingly that Philip Seymour Hoffman was indeed going to show up for the screening. I feigned interest and said, “Great!”

as dopey ran up to his partner, Y muttered, “Like we care.”

well, I guess as rabid film festival-goers, we suck. we were here for the movies, and while it’s nice to see the stars and filmmakers, we were more interested in the movies. if we’re lucky, we get to hear what the filmmakers and the actors say about the movie, and not about the free loot at the Loot Lounge or who’s shagging with whom. well, that’s not exactly true. to pass the time, eL did regale us with a story about Keanu Reeves doing Hamlet in Winnipeg years ago and who he was doing. it’s all about priorities. movie first, dirt about stars maybe the tenth item down the list of things to care about. (P.S. Philip Seymour Hoffman did show up... check back later for the review!)

my prize

all the things I wasn't

[up/dates]

"Hi!"

"Hey!"

"How are you doing?"

"I'm good. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Whatcha doin?"

"I'm getting ready to go out. I'm going to a slumber party."

"A slumber party? You're kidding."

"No, I'm really going."

"You're pulling my leg! Really? A slumber party? Anyone I know going?"

"I don't think so."

"How many people will be there?"

"Just two."

"Oh. Just you and… the host?”

“Y-eah! Me and him.”

“Oh, okay.” Pause. Smile. “Well, have fun then!”

“Okay.”

Click.

I sat there, speechless, still listening to the silence from my cell phone, my voice cut off by the sharp pain from being hung up on. I thought, slumber party? is it me, or is that really lame? we both spoke like we were old friends, no tension from what I could tell, but those words hurt. I couldn’t think why cookie would be so cruel… except perhaps he really did read my blog and read my post about him, read that I didn’t like him enough. maybe I wanted to tell him that, without saying those words, cowardly from the blog. maybe he thought it was cruel that I told the world what I felt.

but it’s my blog and I’ll say what I want. I might say something else later. I might feel differently. tomorrow could be a different post. I wrote what I felt at that moment and I know I did feel something for him. I just didn’t know what or where it could go. I really don’t know if he read the blog, but it doesn’t matter anymore. that’s how the cookie crumbles.

* * *

a few days later, R. and I chatted on the phone and decided that we really needed to have a talk, face to face. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t think I could want more from him than a friendship. while the age issue wasn’t as pressing as it was before (and in fact, it seems less and less of an issue as I got to know him), I still know that I didn’t want more from him.

we met up at the café a few blocks up the street, the same café where we met the first time. we got coffees and we sat by the door. and then we talked. he said he liked me, felt a real connection. he thought I was serious kind of guy, that I only wanted to be with someone who was serious and looking for more. I wondered how he came to that conclusion, was that the impression that I gave him? I felt nervous, expecting a serious declaration. but I was wrong. he said he wasn’t ready for a relationship. he wanted to get to know me better, but thought I wouldn’t want to just be friends. even though he thought it might be crazy to not try to pursue something more, he wasn’t ready.

the café wasn’t full. just a group of foreign students sitting on the couches in the back, laughing, talking. I felt my shoulders loosened, the tension melting away. I was relieved. I told him I liked him, that I really enjoyed his company, that our connection was really good. good, but… but that I didn’t want more. I wanted to be friends and to get to know each other. I wanted our friendship to grow, to explore our connection. but nothing more.

in the back of my mind, I wondered whether it was crazy not to pursue more. perhaps I could find that something I felt was missing. perhaps his age will become simply a number. there is that connection we do have, a connection that is different from cookie, a connection that on the face of it seems full of potential. but I know it’s not enough, but I don’t know how I know.

you meet so many people in life, so many different lives walking different paths. as I get older, I feel that it’s harder and harder to find someone sharing the same road, going the same places, or simply sharing a moment to travel together. people pass you without thinking, without looking. or maybe, maybe he’s driving, coming up to match the same speed as you, shouts something to you in the wind, his words just flying incomprehensibly, like flicked cigarette ashes still glowing as they hurtle onto the road. and then maybe accelerating, both of you going to different places, so that you only see his fading taillight in the night.

all our dreams are plastic

[picks]

Monday, Y and I picked up our tickets for the Toronto International Film Festival. this year, I’m taking the week off to relax and just watch 5 movies, and no midnight madness either! after a few years moaning on about needing to take time off to do the festival right, I finally do and I decided not to watch that many movies anyway. oh well, the choices weren’t as good as last year, so I’ll just be enjoying the time off and actually write and finish film reviews during the week off. maybe in the meantime, while waiting in line, I’ll finally get around to finishing a few novels and return Foucault’s Pendulum to eL. I’ll probably catch a few other movies currently playing too, like Terry Gilliam’s The Brothers Grimm or that Penguin movie everyone is watching.

for the film fest, I plan to see Capote (American), Saints-Martyrs-des-Damnés (Canada), Seven Swords (Hong Kong), Linda Linda Linda (Japan) and of course, Takashi Miike’s The Great Yokai War. ever since waiting in line for Ichi the Killer and being given a barf bag as a promotional film fest souvenir, Miike’s movies have now become a tradition. this year I’m not seeing it during the midnight madness screening (because the Ryerson theatre really sucks), though I’m sure with my luck, he’ll actually visit this year during the midnight madness. anyway, if you’re in town and catching a flick, let me know. it’ll be great to borrow your official programme book, cos gawd knows I’m not paying $30.95 for one.

everyone else, look forward to a few movie reviews, some photos (hopefully) and this lame ass poster!

7 up, crazy 8s

[meme]

I’ve been tagged with this 7 meme by Joel A, but I say Pua started it. several memes of separation, I guess. this one made me think hard, especially the celebrity crushes. only 7! and what counts as a celebrity? we all have our 15 minutes of fame, and so if a crush last only 15 minutes, is he/she still a celebrity? hey, I’m Chinese, so I’m going for 8, because it’s such a prosperous number.

8 things I plan to do before I die:
learn to speak French fluently and swear convincingly without an anglo accent
live life without letting fear making the wrong decisions for me
finish and publish a book of short stories, a book of poetry, a play and a novel
take a photo from the tallest building in London, New York, Paris, Tokyo, Buenos Aires, Sydney, Beijing and Moscow
learn to be less reserved, less aloof, less icy
learn to meditate
learn to skate and snowboard properly
get my dining room table (from the Baron, who’s going to have it built for me)

8 things I can do:
read palms
remember my dreams when I want to, and know when they’re prophetic
wake up at the hour I want, without an alarm clock
write, but only prose well
worry incessantly
say the wrong things at the wrong time without thinking
switch between being a science nerd and artsy flake in a flash
remember trivial details

8 things I cannot do:
pray, because I’ve lost faith
drink more than one vodka martini in one evening, because I’m a cheap drunk
dance without being delusional about my dancing abilities
commit revenge
swim
bake well
water plants properly
lie when it’s important

8 things that attract me to the same/opposite sex:
hairy legs and arms (but not TOO hairy)
an accent – i.e. speaks more than one language
sharp and articulate intelligence
can tell good ghost stories (and other kinds of stories too!)
his writing, whether his handwriting or his poetry & prose
kindness
dark hair and mysterious eyes
makes me laugh

8 things I say often:
“And your point is…?”
“Get out of here!” (incredulously)
“What’s for deeeeeeeener?” (that’s dinner)
“Is the oven off, doors locked, did you put the food away?” (all in one breath)
“If you say so.”
“Jesus! What’s wrong with you?!”
“I don’t give a flying fuck.”
“Hey Pooney!”

8 celebrity crushes:
David Sutcliffe
Jimi Mistry
Takeshi Kaneshiro
Hidetoshi Nakata
Maggie Cheung
Hugh Jackman
David Mitchell
Miyuki, our hairdresser. (I swear, she’s the most popular hairdresser at Maya)

8 people I would like to do this:
mark
marshall
heipel
SirBarrett
thefashmagslag
hot lunch!
Juju
Charlie

okay, you don’t have to and you can switch back to 7… but I ask because some of you would write something interesting to read, one would be unexpected, one could be annoyed (and I like annoying you), one to practise my French some more, some because you’re funny and one because I think you write brilliantly. oh, and one because I have a crush on you, but are you a celebrity?