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“Different strokes for different folks.”
You’ve probably read me use that phrase many a time – it’s one that I try to live by. Hokey as it sounds, it centers me, helps to remind me to respect the way other people might do things, even if it’s the polar opposite of what I’d do.
It’s a mantra, and it’s one I use every time I’m watching a movie with my folks, or my Filipino relatives in general.
My family and I were at a Target the other day when my father made a comment about a shopping cart in our way.
He told my mother and me about how these carts will stop moving once they pass a certain part of the premises. My mother did not know this and was clearly impressed, wondering how they’d be able to do that.
I, on the other hand, did know this; had, in fact, the knowledge of this quality in the back of my brain somewhere; and had wondered about the very same thing for that much longer.
The only thing was that curiosity never pushed me to inquire as to how this is done. It never compelled me to perform the Herculean task of doing a Google search about the whole thing.
And I’m not even going to start now.
Because this way, as far as I’m concerned,
MAGIC IS REAL!
When I heard that bootleg DVD copies of The People I’ve Slept With had appeared in Shanghai, I realized that that my journey with this film is coming to an end this month with its long anticipated DVD & VOD release. We shot People in the summer of 2008, and it literally has been over 5 years since actor Karin Anna Cheung and I first started talking about doing a project together.
(Photo Courtesy of CAAM/John C. Liau)
Making a movie is like giving birth to a child. Getting her into the film festivals is just like getting your child into college—would it be Harvard, UCLA or community college? Selling your film is like trying to set your child up with the right career or job. A director/producer is always an overbearing tiger mom fighting for her every need and privilege. Would you like to see her homeless or shooting up heroin on the street? No!
For the first part of “A Film Festival Odyssey,” I want to share with you my festival journey with People from the world premiere in Hawaii to the Hong Kong premiere so you’ll get a perspective of a filmmaker on the international festival circuit. For the second part, which I will post next week, I’ll be sharing with you a different perspective at the film festivals, particularly as a juror at the San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival where I just got back from.
Pirated DVDs are sold openly in malls, open markets and stores all over Southeast Asia and China. Actually, in my travels, I find the pirated DVD stores in China, especially in Shanghai or Beijing, to be the best because they cater to ex-pats. So their inventory runs deep, ranging from an entire season box set for the latest season of GLEE to European short film collections to Criterion edition DVDs that are either out of print or would cost $100 in the States.
General rule of thumb is the really new films that are still in theaters, like TRON LEGACY or the latest HARRY POTTER flick, are a crapshoot. They are either hand-cams or the quality is overall not good. But, the older titles, like Criterion box sets, for example, are exact DVD rips, so the quality is stellar.
Here’s more shit that Asians love and white folks hate.
1) EATING THINGS THAT MOVE
White people may claim to like their food, including their meat, fresh, but in reality, they wouldn’t be able to handle “real” freshness. White people still freak out when they see a whole duck hanging from the window of a Chinatown restaurant and some of them still think swallowing raw fish is a cruel fraternity initiation. But Asians…we know freshness and what’s fresher than eating something that’s still alive and/or moving. I have to admit that when I first went to the Pusan Film Fest a few years ago and was presented with a plate of still squirming octopus, I hesitated for a second. But when I took that first bite, it was fucking awesome! And guess what? The white people in our party (who were even more disgusted) ended up loving it too. So don’t knock it until you try it:
A little over four months ago in mid June, I along with tens of thousands of hapless like-mindeds — inconsolable and defeated — mourned like the covert Scottish patriots at William Wallace’s public execution in BRAVEHEART as the last two American Virgins were sacrificed in New York and Hollywood.
More specifically, the last two Virgin Megastores. That, coupled with the shuttering of the venerable and iconic Tower Records chain, had the subtle effect of a Muay Thai elephant kick to the already deflated psyches of recorded media collectors worldwide. In a few fell swoops of corporate bottom-lining, the record store experience: Venues to escape and lose oneself filtering through bins, discovering a semi-obscure album and/or an underappreciated director, actor and film, became critically fewer. This was the day we all had been foretold and dreaded actually experiencing happen.
