Memoirs of an Amnesiac

I've been watching reruns of Regal Shocker horror movies lately and I couldn't help laughing at the somewhat primitive graphic effects and what would be considered "lousy" horror stunts at present. I was laughing not only because of its crude material but that I remembered how much terrified I was as a young child when those movies were shown.

I remembered how my brother and I would hide under the bed sheet covers when that "tyanak" (monster baby) appears on screen and starts biting people's necks. I remembered with fondness how my brother, whose sweat already dampened the covers because of fright, would sleep in my arms. And I only had to wake him up when the credits are shown.

Then there's that other sub-titled part under the same series, " Ang Halimaw sa Banga." I swear I stayed away from anyone's big jar collections after I watched that. During that time, every affluent man's house is never complete without huge jar collections which gave me the creeps before. Even until now, my friends and I would never miss alluding to that film whenever we see huge jars.

I miss the old Filipino movies. I miss how they gave me those simpleton feeling. I swear I was unnerved when an action star comes right into the scene sweeping the leading lady's body off her feet. Their predictability and patterned plots are qualities which make them truly unique among all other movie genres.

For who could explain why in every film, especially those shot in the 80's to 90's why they always have a scene in the movies where the main characters dance in the beach with choreographed steps, complete with back-up dancers? How about the exchange of dialogues among the action star and the protagonist, saying things beginning with these lines: "Pedro, balang araw dadaan ka rin sa butas ng karayom!" How about the exchange of bullets that even when the action star is hiding behind a slim post, he never gets hit? He only does when they get to a duel and he either gets all the bullets but he still gets to deliver his lines while trying to stop blood from flowing in either his chest or his thighs or sometimes in his stomach. I have yet to see an action star who gets hit in the head and is able to deliver his parting lines on screen before the eyes of avid movie goers who are sadistic enough to see him suffer while yet trying to hold on to his bleeding head.

While I sit here musing about where all those old Filipino movies have gone, I bemuse about the recent killings in the Colorado movie theater. I wonder so much about the milestone film making has reached today. How they have turned to something that actually slightly sets the border between reality and fantasy. And I start having nostalgic longings.

Ah, where have all those old Filipino movies gone?