(1) Yes, the title was not erroneously typed. It's really U as in U that's short for university, U that's the 21st letter of the alphabet, U as in one of 'e, letters the Germans like to put an umlaut on the top of, which texters have then used to make messages cuter and friendlier.
(2) As part of the movie's title, the "U" just showed the producer's (or whichever genius thought of using the effing letter) desperation to make the cursed movie cuter than it already is supposed to be. Of course, the end result looks plain stupid. So stupid I started thinking of ways to complete the title. Here are some attempts:
When I met U, I realized that I only have 5 letters to go before memorizing the entire alphabet.
When I met U, I wondered if you were Burmese, as U is used as an honorific address in Burma/Myanmar (e.g. former UN secretary general U Thant).
When I met U, I found out that I really didn't care much, so much so that I couldn't bring myself to spell an effing 3-letter pronoun that refers to U.
When I met U, I found out that you're one sloppy speller and I got turned off.
When I met U, I got amazed by the amount of ink that you saved by disregarding the letters y and o.
When I met U, I was regaled by UR stories of avoiding carpal tunnel syndrome by just typing U in UR txt msgs.
(3) The U in When I met U sounds corny, cheesy, and feels like it was thought of by someone who was just downright lazy and spelled poorly. Please, no excuses of "it has been done before." The prior use of U in a movie title was in "My Only U" with Toni Gonzaga and Vhong Navarro, use of which is forgivable because: (a) The latter movie was a comedy, a genre that gives enough leeway for silly titles, (b) A movie with its main star named V-H-O-N-G can get away with bloody murder.
(4) The movie has Richard Gutierrez in stages of undress. True, true, they're stuck in an island, Richard has a great torso, Richard undressed is a gay audience crowd-drawer. What bothered me was how too perfect he is. Seeing him shirtless reminds me of those food items displayed in front of fast food restaurants and food courts. They look so shiny, perfect, and mouth-watering but upon closer inspection, of course, they're not real and they're made out of resin, lacquered or varnished to perfection. So not unlike Mazjh's perfect wedding bouquet, simple yet exquisite. Conclusion: Richard Gutierrez looks varnished. I was worried that he would do a Steven Segal while they were stuck in the island. Good thing he roughed up a teeny-weeny bit. By Steven Segal, I mean someone who doesn't get bruised, get hurt, or dislocate a strand of hair even while hell and high water have risen. Go ahead, watch any of Mr. Segal's films, quick. That pony tail ain't moving nowhere.
(5) KC was cruelly casted as a promo girl. To achieve promo girl persona, KC adapts this parlorista/palengkera demeanor, complete with accent. Please, parlorista demeanor complete with accent + alabaster skin DOES NOT A promo girl make. Never in a million years have I seen a promo girl as flawless as her. Someone as beautiful as KC can do promos for cigarettes or cocktail drinks in bars or nightspots, but grocery store promo girl? Naglolokohan ba tayo?
(6) First film with KC and Richard was filmed in Greece. The story was cheesy as a bottle of Cheeze Whiz, with musical number to seal the deal. Wonderful Greek vistas saved the film. In this film, Palawan was beautifully shot, and that and only that saved the film from being unwatchable. Thus, when the two too-beautiful-for-their-own-sakes marooned people finally got rescued out of the island, excrement began/resumed. Iya Villania was not as bad as Alfred Vargas, who played KC's needy boyfriend, complete with forlorn choirboy eyes. Ugh. Wasn't this guy good in the Tanghalang Ateneo plays he starred in?
(7) For a movie that promised to be better than the first movie of the KC-Richard tandem, it wasn’t that big of a leap. I found myself lost in the sea of unnecessary subplots and melodrama. Uck. I needed some rescuing as badly as, if not more than, the movie’s two leads.
(8) Rica's movie review expresses her desire to have the two hours she spent in watching the movie back and give it to KC for the latter's acting lessons. I, on the other hand, would like my two hours back by tearing the movie to pieces for the said time. Once I've consumed two hours in degrading the movie, I shall call it even, and the cosmos shall return to its proper order. A day after watching the movie, aforementioned blogger and I exchanged text messages about the movie's demerits for about 20 minutes. Now, I am spending an hour blogging this entry. 40 more minutes and justice shall be mine. After all, as someone who we shall call Cedie once said, "Ang sarap kayang manlait!"
It's the end of the world as we know it (or at least, as Wall Street would like us to believe)
Friend after looking at a newspaper headline: Ano naman ang kinalaman ng Unchained Meloday sa ekonomiya ng mundo?
Me stares at her blankly.
Friend: Lehman brothers? Kumanta ng Unchained Melody? HELLO????
Me wonders why I'm having this conversation.
Friend, because she has to have the last word: Lehman Brothers lang, di mo pa alam? Daaaah. (rolls eyes)
Me starts praying for more pressing matters, like world peace and lunch.
Me stares at her blankly.
Friend: Lehman brothers? Kumanta ng Unchained Melody? HELLO????
Me wonders why I'm having this conversation.
Friend, because she has to have the last word: Lehman Brothers lang, di mo pa alam? Daaaah. (rolls eyes)
Me starts praying for more pressing matters, like world peace and lunch.
Random musings on this day of our Lord, the 19th of September in the year 2008, a.k.a more than a a week after my 29th birthday (pt. 3)
As a kid, I was never scared of the usual stuff kids were scared of. I like the darkness, it may give me the creeps sometimes but not to a point when I get pee-in-the-pants scared. Nor was I scared if monsters in the closet or under the bed, insects, reptiles, or any mythological, make-believe, or unidentified creature of folklore. Blood, death, or anything related to the macabre were, at a time, more fascinating and intriguing than frightening. School bullies bored me, and I think I also bored them eventually.
But that didn't stop me from being scared of Mr. Clean.
I couldn't remember, for the life of me, how I started getting frightened of him. Yes, I WAS scared of Mr. Clean, as in the hunk of a bald guy wearing an immaculately white muscle tee, with white eyebrows, an earring, and a sinister smile. I do remember, though, a life-size likeness of him, made out of cardboard and whatnot, guarding the entrance/package counter of this grocery store my mom and I frequented, because it was next to the jeepney loading station for City Heights (aka geriatric neighborhood I blogged about earlier), making it most convenient for us to buy last-minute groceries. Mothers have it in their genetic code to sense their children's fears, so my mom tells me to wait outside if she has to buy something in the store. This was 1980s Bacolod - kidnapping was not in in anyone's vocabulary, just starvation and the threat of looking like a Batang Negros (refer to earlier thread). If I wanted to come inside the store to drive my mom crazy and beg her to buy me chocolate or some nutrient-deficient snack with a free toy, I would drag her as hard as I can and run like it's nobody's business while avoiding Mr. Clean's steady gaze.
I remember feeling overwhelmingly relieved when, sometime in 1985 ( I was about to turn 6), we passed by the store and Mr. Clean was missing. I finally got to see what the package counter attendant looks like, with my mom assuring me that he has been in charge since 1983. I remember getting a puzzled look from him, as he may have probably thought that I was scared of him. For the first time in the history of my family shopping on that store, I was free of anxiety, far from getting a juvenile heart attack.
(to be continued)
But that didn't stop me from being scared of Mr. Clean.
I couldn't remember, for the life of me, how I started getting frightened of him. Yes, I WAS scared of Mr. Clean, as in the hunk of a bald guy wearing an immaculately white muscle tee, with white eyebrows, an earring, and a sinister smile. I do remember, though, a life-size likeness of him, made out of cardboard and whatnot, guarding the entrance/package counter of this grocery store my mom and I frequented, because it was next to the jeepney loading station for City Heights (aka geriatric neighborhood I blogged about earlier), making it most convenient for us to buy last-minute groceries. Mothers have it in their genetic code to sense their children's fears, so my mom tells me to wait outside if she has to buy something in the store. This was 1980s Bacolod - kidnapping was not in in anyone's vocabulary, just starvation and the threat of looking like a Batang Negros (refer to earlier thread). If I wanted to come inside the store to drive my mom crazy and beg her to buy me chocolate or some nutrient-deficient snack with a free toy, I would drag her as hard as I can and run like it's nobody's business while avoiding Mr. Clean's steady gaze.
I remember feeling overwhelmingly relieved when, sometime in 1985 ( I was about to turn 6), we passed by the store and Mr. Clean was missing. I finally got to see what the package counter attendant looks like, with my mom assuring me that he has been in charge since 1983. I remember getting a puzzled look from him, as he may have probably thought that I was scared of him. For the first time in the history of my family shopping on that store, I was free of anxiety, far from getting a juvenile heart attack.
(to be continued)
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