Phantoms of the Opera

My very first full musical was Evita – the watered-down version with Madonna, not the full-on Patti Lupone tour de force. I watched it with my mother; I was in the 6th grade. It was shock to me. I knew there would be songs since I’d seen some videos (Don’t Cry for Me Argentina and Buenos Aires and Another Suitcase) on MTV. But I was not prepared for the entire film – my thoughts were: “Mommy, why won’t they stop singing?!”

Needless to say, I was hooked.

Also, that was my first exposure to the music of Andrew Lloyd Webber. My second musical was The Phantom of the Opera, which incidentally lead me to discovering operas. There are many reasons to love this musical – the songs are haunting and beautiful, the setting is almost magical, and it has the right amount of humor in it (Carlotta the Prima Donna). Plus it has Sarah Brightman. So when I went to New York in 2000, I saw the musical on Broadway, and I was amazed. We were seated in the first box, and it took all of my restraint not to jump down onto the stage and start singing. And my mother was there to keep me in check, too.

When the film came out, I thought, yey! Then I saw the film, then I thought “What were they thinking?” It was even more watered-down than the Evita film – at least that was still able to retain its musical integrity. The singing in the film was atrocious – and this was supposed to be ALW’s most operatic music. The production was nice though. How can you say no to Gerard Butler?

So when I read that ALW was coming up with a sequel to the Phantom, I kind of knew it would be pretty bad. And it is. I’m currently re-listening to the entire album, just to make sure that my first opinions were right. And they were. Terrible music. Predictable plot.

SPOILERS!

10 years after the events at the Paris Opera Populaire, the Phantom has migrated to Manhattan – to Coney Island. He’s set up a freakshow with Madame Giry and Meg, both of whom have apparently gone totally insane. And now Meg pins for the Phantom’s affections. The Phantom is in a creative rut, so he lures Christine, now Madame de Chagny, and her family to Coney Island. From the songs, we learn that Raoul has developed a gambling problem, hates his kid, Gustave, and Christine supports the family by singing. Blah blah blah, ending: Gustave turns out to be the Phantom’s son, and in a confrontation, Raoul tries to shoot the Phantom, but ends up killing Christine instead.

Apparently love never dies, but people do.

There are some instances of beauty though. I like Gustave’s Beautiful, the duet between Christine and the Phantom, and the quartet with Gustave, Raoul, the Phantom, and Madame Giry. Then again, I’ve always loved ensembles and boy sopranos.

But the one true saving grace of the musical is its title number, Love Never Dies, which I first heard in its original sung by soprano Kiri Te Kanawa.

These gems, of course, are all lost in the kitsch and clutter and vaudeville-ish music of the rest of the musical. Try this and see if you can stand it. And the misplaced rock number, Beauty Underneath, saved only by Gustave’s beautiful musical counterpoint. Blech.

And the cast is kind of meh. Sierra Boggess makes a decent Christine, but Ramin Karimloo, gorgeous and beautiful as he is, is a flat Phantom. Duller still is Joseph Millson’s Raoul. And what is with Madame Giry (Liz Robertson) sounding like a total drag queen, and Meg Giry (Summer Strallen) sounding like the Little Mermaid?

So as far as Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals are concerned this one falls really flat. ALW may be losing his touch – no more Sunset Boulevard or Evita or The Phantom of the Opera. If I may quote David Foil as he describes Giacomo Meyerbeer’s conceptions of grand opera pre-Verdi, “Meyerbeer’s pleasant melodies and his taste for bombast can sound mindless and empty. Both he and his operas were overwhelmingly popular yet derided by sophisticated observers, much in the same way Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals are today.”

Mindless and empty. Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Beaucons and Misogyny

Prologue:

A few years ago, my friends and I were in Thailand, clubbing at one of Bangkok’s more popular gay bars (DJ Station? I forget.) It’s standard practice for me and my friends to split up when we go clubbing – since it’s difficult to get your flirt on when you’re surrounded by people you’ve known since before you hit puberty. It sucks for me though, since bars have never really been my scene, and my friends tend to use me as a baggage counter: they leave me their stuff and just come back if they haven’t met anyone.

Anyway, back to Bangkok. So, we split up. I was on the 2nd level, my friends were… well, somewhere. So I was doing my little bouncy dance with a drink in my hand when I felt someone shove me. I didn’t think it was anything since the club was crowded, I thought it was just an accident. Then it happened again. And again. I look around and a bunch of tall, white guys (gay jocks – the worst kind of jock ever) were standing there looking at me all annoyed. Then I heard one of them complain, “What is she doing here? Doesn’t she know this is a gay bar?!”

I didn’t know whether to slap him or thank him.

The-thing-that-comes-between-the-Prologue-and-the-Epilogue:

Today was Miss Universe 2011. Virtually all my gay friends were on leave watching the live telecast in Star World or streaming it online. Now, you have to realize the importance of beauty pageants in gay culture. While it’s not politically correct to call the Miss Universe pageant the ‘Gay World Cup’, it kind of really is. Think about it: gays have been training, spending money on, and investing in girls to compete in these pageants since the dawn of time. A friend of mine, Mark, actually works with a working group that does just that: they’re like a talent agency, but they specialize in beauty queens.

And then, of course, there’s the ever-present gay beauty pageant. Another friend, Patrick (head of Task Force Pride), is helping organize Ultimo Icono, an LGBT pageant in October. When I say LGBT, I mean it. There’s a separate contest for butch lesbians and transmen, transwomen, butch gays and bisexuals.

In words of bakla scholars Martin Manalansan, Danton Remoto, and J.Neil Garcia, the beauty pageant holds a special place in the culture of the bakla because, through spectacle, masquerade, mimicry, etc. the beauty pageant provides a venue to make real the unattainable dream of the bakla – to be a woman. I’m not saying that all bakla want to be women – the influx of Western ideology has eclipsed that phenomenon and forced another label on this dream: transgender. The very same discourses which perpetuate this also offer modern (ie. urban, rich) bakla the opportunity to perform their kabaklaan as divorced from the aspiration of becoming a ‘true’ woman by allowing them the label gay.

Are you still with me?

In other words, the reason why beauty pageants are so important in gay culture is that it celebrates the dream (whether real or imagined; embraced or rejected) of becoming a woman. Since kabaklaan is rooted in the tradition of the babaylan – who embodied both male and female spirits – it is important to acknowledge that the primary reason why many bakla  love beauty pageants is that it allows them to live out the dream of idealized womanhood without necessarily becoming transgender themselves. Not that there’s anything wrong about being transgender, but many modern gay men don’t like to be referred to as bakla precisely because they equate kabaklaan with wanting to be a woman – when kabaklaan is so much more than that.

On a related note: I’m Ms. Brazil.

So why are many bakla (and gays) harbor so much hate for women? Case in point: a friend posted a picture of Ms. Colombia in our private Facebook group. In the photo, Ms. Colombia was sitting, wearing a skimpy dress and no panties. And maybe half of her vajayjay was peeking out. Comments from my friends ranged from JC’s “ay kipay! eeeeeeeeeeeee!” and another friend’s “Nakakasulasok!” (I don’t know what that means). Why are we so uncomfortable with female anatomy?

Granted, I’m not thrilled at seeing another woman’s privates, but it’s there, it’s saying hello. The least you could do is say hello back – preferably not with your own privates.

This may not be a pretty good example of misogyny in gay culture, but this kind of misogyny extends to effeminacy – the term effeminophobia was coined only in the mid-nineties and pertains to the kind of fear or hatred of effeminate men. Not homosexuality itself, just effeminacy in men – regardless of sexual orientation.

This is, of course, rooted in the patriarchal structures which privilege masculinity over femininity. Even in the gay community, we see gays who are more masculine as better off (ie. more sexually viable/attractive) than those who are more feminine. It’s disturbing for me to see that even in queer cultures, we simply reinforce heteronormative standards instead of challenging them and changing them.

And don’t even get me started on transphobia.

Epilogue:

Some could argue that the beauty pageant, itself, is misogynistic. I do not doubt this: beauty contests reinforce traditional and conventional patterns of beauty, femininity, and womanhood which are nothing less than unattainable for us mere mortals. A lot of people have been going on about Ms. Angola’s win as a possible deviance from this tradition of equating white-ness with beauty. But she’s not the first non-white woman to win the title. I don’t think her win was affirmative action. She definitely didn’t win because of her answer. and I know she didn’t win because she walked nicely – she could hardly walk in that gown and had difficulty navigating the stage. She won most likely because she’s the first Angola candidate to go so far in the contest (I may be wrong!) And she’s pretty.

On that note, I’ll end with a few words praising Shamcey Supsup, Ms. Philippines. I found her charming and graceful. More than that, her answer was great. I don’t think any other answer would have given her the crown (because, again, the judges might have been predisposed towards letting Angola win its first title). But I do think that 3rd place is pretty low. She should have been at least 1st runner up.

Oh well. No use contemplating on something that’s final. So we end with Ms. Philippines and her well-deserved Evita moment.

Why I’d rather be a Disney villain

So my friends and I got to talking about Disney princesses today – and of course, we ended up with a discussion of which Disney Princess are you. Take your pick: Snow White, Cinderella, Aurora, Ariel, Jasmine, Pocahontas, Rapunzel, Tiana, even Nala; Megara, Mulan and Esmeralda. The last three aren’t really royal. (Where’s Alice?!)

My top choices? Ursula and Mother Gothel. Megara and Esmeralda come in next because I love their hair. What’s wrong with me?

A lot has been written about how un-feminist these princesses are, and I kind of agree. Then again, most of these women are also independent thinkers and non-conformists. Think of Belle who loves to read and complains, “There must be more than this provincial life!” Think of the Little Mermaid wanting to live away from home. Think of Mulan cross-dressing and putting her life at risk to save her father. Then think of Pocahontas singing about wolves crying to blue corn moons and refusing to marry a man she doesn’t love – against her father’s wishes – opting instead to wait for what’s coming just around the riverbend.

Nevertheless, none of them achieve happiness away from their respective Prince Charmings. I never got that. Not even as a kid. Sure, it could be argued that these Disney movies simply continue the tradition of oral fairytales – which inevitably sought to control behavior and teach kids about right and wrong, in the process teaching them that until they find a suitable partner, they will never be happy. If you’re a girl, you need to be rescued, And if you’re a boy, you need to do the rescuing. What if you’re neither boy nor girl?

Insert Disney villains. The Queen, Maleficent, Ursula, Mother Gothel; even Jafar and Scar. Throw in Cruella de Vil for good measure.

See, unlike those silly little princesses who are subversive mainly because they’re after love, the villains revel in their subversion. Some may call them evil, I call them fabulous. And, if you notice, a fair amount of camp aesthetic is present in many of these villains. In fact, it can be argued that the villains represent non-heteronormative genders: Jafar, for one, is incredibly feminized. Ursula and her man-ish voice is another example. And of course, Maleficent has a gay man’s vicious tongue: “Royalty, nobility, the gentry, and – how quaint. Even the Rabble.” (referring to the three good fairies) And of course she screams, “And now shall you deal with all the powers of hell!” as she transforms into a frigin’ dragon. How can you be queer and not love THAT?!

The vilification of the queer character may be a bad thing for the queer community in terms of representation, yes, but again Harvey Fierstein’s argument, “visibility at all cost”, can be invoked here.

But it’s not just the camp factor that I love. Their songs are pretty awesome too. Who doesn’t love Mother Gothel’s passive aggressive rants? “Gullible, naïve, positively grubby, ditzy and a bit, well, hmm vague. Plus, I believe, gettin’ kinda chubby. I’m just saying ’cause I wuv you”. My dream role in a musical is to play Ursula and sing, “the miserable, the lonely, and depressed. Pathetic.  Poor unfortunate souls…” while pointing at audience members.

Plus they have super powers. Except for Mother Gothel, whom I love precisely because she has no powers. And we share the same hairstyle.

But what I find most attractive in Disney villains is that their stories have a concrete end: whether it’s by the phallic prow of a ship or being thrown out the window to dissolve into nothingness, the villain’s story ends. I’ll have none of that ambiguous “They lived happily every after” crap.

Queer Dog

It’s my dog’s 4th birthday.

His name is Chippy and, theoretically speaking, he’s a poodle. I got him when he was about 2 months old and no bigger than my forearm. I got him because my other dog, a boxer named Bailey, had died a few years back, and it was lonely sitting alone at home with only cockroaches and the occasional mouse to freak you out. I wanted a chihuahua, but my mom said that they look too much like rats to be cute. So I got a poodle – at a discount. I also didn’t want to get a girl dog because when they get their period, it gets everywhere. I mean EVERYWHERE! (Once, I woke up and I found Bailey beside me – and my sheets were bloody. Eck!) So I got a male dog. Well kinda, only one of his testicles dropped, despite two testosterone shots, which is fine because I have no intention to have him mate. He’ll remain as frigid as me. hahahha!

Anyway, I’ve been trimming and cutting his hair myself for the past year, so it’s gotten all tangled in places and unevenly cut. So I decided to go to the groomers (Pet Passion Dog Shop along Macapagal Avenue, right next to Yakimix! :P) and spend 300 pesos for a proper haircut. And I also saw an Ateneo jersey for dogs. Don’t read too much into this choice: I got it because the UP Maroons jersey they had didn’t match his fur color; the blue was a better match. Yey school spirit.

Here are some photos.

 

Top 5 Emo songs from Musicals

So after a year of benching this blog, I’ve finally decided to start blogging – again.

This post is inspired by one of my friends (MC) who uses the rather depressing musical Les Miserables to lighten her mood and drown out the ignorance of the outside world. A novel use for a musical, yes, but it got me to thinking about when I was young(er) and I would basically do the same: hide behind the characters and use their music to express my emotions.

So this list details five song numbers from musicals which, I think, are incredibly emo. In other words, these are the songs you listen to while slashing your wrists. It was supposed to be a top ten thing, but I could only really come up with like 3 so here they are.

Top 5: The Role of a Lifetime from Bare: A Pop Opera

One of the few gay-themed musicals, Bare is not quite an opera in the most traditional sense of the word, but its plot is aptly operatic: hidden love affairs, sex in dorm rooms, an unwanted pregnancy, and  a suicide. In this song, Peter laments his relationship with his roommate (aka. boyfriend), Jason, who’s straight-acting. Nerd moment: if you look very closely at the lyrics, it’s the concept of performativity in action! Keep acting straight, and no one will be able to tell you like other boys. A fair amount of essentialism in there, too: “these feelings aren’t going away. So we drive ourselves insane, spinning circles in our souls, as we dance around and play pretend.”

I particularly like the lines: “Am I a savior or a phase? Am I here to damn you or to help you navigate this maze?” Everyone who’s queer and has been told (by parents, teachers, counselors, and priests) that they’re not normal has gone through this: you begin to believe them and you feel guilty about yourself. In the musical, Peter has made peace with his sexuality, but his partner, Jason, still hasn’t.

The musical is beautifully written and peppered with amazing songs and big personalities: I’m particularly fond of Sister Chantelle’s “God Don’t Make No Trash”.

Top 4: With One Look from Sunset Boulevard

Ok, so maybe Norma Desmond is closer to crazy than she is to emo, but this song helped me through a particularly difficult phase in high school.

In second year, I was cast to play Laura in our class production of Florante at Laura. Since we went to an all-boys school, the other classes has cast ‘real’ (read: genitally) girls to play their respective Lauras, but for some strange reason, I was cast as Laura. So of course, I took Norma’s With One Look as my ‘theme song’ -> With one look, I put words to shame.

One time, during rehearsals, I couldn’t remember my lines, so I started joking around – to the chagrin of both of our directors, one of which promptly replaced me with another classmate – who was considered more “classically good-looking” (and she still is). I ran to the bathroom and started bawling my eyes out. Then I started singing this song, which helped me regain my composure. I won the role back the next day.

Oo, bata pa lang ako, I was already a retired 50-year old crazy bitch who wanted to play the 16-ear-old Salome. And I reveled in it.

Top 3: Simple Little Things from 110 in the Shade

A relatively little-known musical, 110 in the Shade is about Lizzie Curry and… just Wikipedia it. She’s an old maid, so once again, I can relate. This is disturbing.

I love the lines of the song though. “All I need is someone beside me to have and to hold, someone to love me as we grow older.” Awww…. /wrist

And did I mention that I love all things Audra?

Top 2: I’m not that girl from Wicked

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQwWneWbmLQ (Feel free to be annoyed by all the coughing in the background.)

Nerd Moment: For all you straight readers there, you have to realize one important thing about growing up queer that you won’t find in many books – the process of translation. Especially if you grow up and identify as transgender, you become sort of an expert in translating – not language, but genders and gender roles. Virtually all the media you consume as a child – from fairytales to children’s stories to Disney movies and their purportedly queer aesthetics – is straight. Girl gets rescued by guy, yada yada yada… So you have to ‘translate’ the stories and make all the characters queer so that you can relate to the story. I didn’t know it back then, but that’s what I always did: I wanted to be Mulan and be trained by the hot Captain, I was the Child-like Empress waiting to be rescued on my Ivory Tower, and most importantly, I wanted to be Ursula and squish the annoying Little Mermaid.

So when I first heard this song, I was automatically sent back to my childhood – and my fiercely competitive rivals: those pretty ‘girls’ who were not very smart (they weren’t dumb though) and who wanted constant attention from all the boys in school – what with all their popularity polls and whatnot. So, of course, I related more with Elphaba than with Glinda. I wasn’t green-skinned, but I was the tiny little, pimply, curly-haired thing who was hardly noticed. I asked a friend, Boom, what he thought about me in high school and he said I was mostly quiet. And I was. Aside from my one big drama about not being exempted from CAT, my high school life was pretty quiet. Then again, it’s hard to be noisy when everyone around you is already making so much noise. And of course, those rivals I had in high school are now my closest friends.

Still: “Don’t wish, don’t start. Wishing only wounds the heart.” PAK!

Top 1: On My Own from Les Miserables

The ultimate /wrist song for all of us single girls in love with those fabulous, fabulous men who are beyond our grasps. “I think of him and I am happy with the company I’m keeping. The city goes to bed, and I can live inside my head.” Awww.

The first time I actually heard this song was on Dawson’s Creek. It was horribly sung, but I did love the song (thank the gods for Lea Salonga). Show me someone, straight or queer or whatever, who hasn’t felt like this, and I’ll show you a person with no heart. And no soul. And no libido. I think this kind of unrequited love is an essential part of being human -everyone’s got that someone that they love from afar.

“Without me, his world will go on turning, the world is full of happiness that I have never known!” –> ack!

/WRIST

What’s queer?

Ok. So, new blog. I originally wanted a new blog where I could talk about gay films from a queer perspective. Not exactly a novel idea, I know, but it’s what I know about, and it’s what I like to talk about.

Then the other night, while watching a Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa, I thought the principles and concepts of queer theory can quite as easily be applied to non-gay films as gay-themed films.

And so that’s what this nerdy little corner of the interwebs will talk about: queer culture in non-queer contexts. This will be quite challenging, but I think I’m up to it.

Now let the nerdiness begin!

Queer: a short definition.

Ok, super short – it’s like this. Queer theory is a bunch of writings and critiques on gender and the hegemonies which govern it. Its basic premise is this: that all parts of our identity are nothing more than mere performances; it’s the constant repetition of these performances that make the world (and certain genders) look natural and fixed. Breaks in these performances are possible and important because they allow us to shift from one identity to another. The inner self (who we really are) doesn’t matter because we base that on our performances, on our roles, which can be quite easily changed.

Add to that other elements of queer culture (gay icons like Judy, Cher, Madonna, and yes, maybe even Gaga; camp, the art of exaggeration; and the bakla concept – effeminacy, cross-dressing, sexual desire, and social class) and you get this blog.

If you want to know more about Queer theory, read up on your Judith Butler and Eve Sedgewick. Be careful though, those women’s writings can induce heavy nosebleeds and brain hemorrhage.

In this blog, I will attempt to look at non-queer texts (films, operas, music; friends and conversations) in a queer manner. Because everything is Queer.