It all started when this woman in the MRT scolded me because I squished her bag. And then mumbled to herself that she didn’t understand why we insisted on riding the train when it’s obviously full. first of all, if it were full, i wouldn’t have been able to get in. second, it’s late, everyone’s in a hurry to get home and i’m in a hurry to get to a meeting. we’re all squished here like sardines in a can so i don’t see why you think you’re any different or why you have to cause a fuss. And finally, it’s a bag. I would have understood if it was your foot, or a small child. But it’s a BAG. I would understand if you had a Faberge egg stashed somewhere there, but you don’t. so shut up and deal with it.

So anyway, I finally made it to my meeting only to be given a sermon that “professional” people are never late. “There is no excuse for being late,” the producer said. “And if you think you’ll be delayed, you should text us that you’ll be late.” Normally, I’d be embarrassed if I were unexcusably late. But what makes me so mad is that I DID text them. They do know, after all, that I have a nightly tutoring job and this meeting is an emergency meeting and not all of us “volunteers” can jump at their command just because they want us there. It’s not as if they’re paying me transportation money. It’s not as if they’re paying me at all. So I’m sorry if I don’t want to give up my paying job just so that I can sit in your stupid meeting. And don’t talk to me like I’m not a professional. I may not have years of experience like you but I have never been unprofessional. I did the stupid script breakdown didn’t I, even though I already told you I was quitting this morning. I didn’t have to do it but because it was supposed to be my job, I just did.

And now for the reason I’m quitting the production. Well, long story short, I volunteered before I saw the script and now that I’ve seen the script, I just couldn’t go on with it. It violates women. It violates Filipinos and promotes stereotypes. It gives no justification for the violence and abuse. It’s everything I promised myself I would never do. They say that they’re trying to show the reality of the urban poor community and that reality is violent and it’s sexual. but I’m sorry. it’s easy to sit on a high chair and gaze at all the poor people below and think you know them and write a screenplay about their “situation,” a situation you really know absolutely nothing about, well, except if you actually immerse yourself in the community, which I don’t think they did. And then they say they want to show this reality to shock people. The problem with that reason is so what? After you shock people, what happens? What comes after you show the reality of the situation? It would be good if you were trying to question a value or a belief that exists in society, but you don’t. You just want to show it as it is, like a “documentary,” because not everything is nice and pretty.

Yes, I know not everything is nice and pretty. I know it, even though I haven’t really experienced poverty personally. But making a film like that just to shock people is pointless. And there’s a line between trying to help people and trying to exploit them and from what I’ve read of the script, you’re doing the latter. The characters are stereotypical. The underlying story is also stereotypical. Basically, a man abuses his wife, who accepts his abuse because she wants a better future for her child. Oh, and guess what, the woman dies in the end, the son doesn’t get his better future and the father ends up blind. Apparently, it’s their idea of “justice,” like Oedipus. Oh, whatever. There’s a big difference with gouging your eyes out with your own hands because you did an unspeakable crime and with your son gouging your eyes out with a fork because you did an unspeakable crime. They even went so far to describe the mother’s death as a “blessing.” What blessing? Okay, so she escaped from her abusive husband but she dies without an ounce of dignity and worse, without hope of vindication.

And don’t get me started on all the other women characters. Most of them are prostitutes willing to sell themselves or their children to foreigners. Yes, it happens. But most of them are there because they have no choice. They do it to survive, not because they don’t care or because they want to do it. Where is that in your script? The only woman we can empathize with is the mother but you kill her off because death is a “blessing.” Worse, you justify the father’s action with the flimsy excuse that he does it because in a way, he “loves” her. What? How twisted are you? Gosh, you could at least have one progressive thought in your film. And you think we’re close-minded prudes because we can’t appreciate it. I understand that you have to stand by your belief that your film is what you call “art.” But it’s not. It’s a pile of crap. So excuse me if I do not want to stand behind your stupid pile of crap.
 
To wrap up, as fellow ex-volunteer Makey said as we walked furiously out of the restaurant, there is just no excuse for being a pervert.