When God hands you a gift, he also hands you a whip

I have read the book The Da Vinci Code many years ago, thanks to a colleague at my new job, who noticed that I like books. He said why don't I try this author, who was just starting to get attention and that his latest book just joined the New York Times bestsellers list. So I gave in and he lent me this huge book titled 'The Da Vinci Code' (it was not yet printed in paperback then). I probably spent a couple of nights with not much sleep pouring over the riveting story; I searched the net over the Priory of Scion; I've downloaded pictures of Leonardo's paintings and frescoes -- even of Caravaggio; I googled the Holy Grail; but not for once was my religious belief shaken (I knew of Opus Dei when I was only a teen). I knew that Catholicism was founded in bloodshed -- it was but governed by men, and that man can falter. Did I for one bit believed that Mary Magdalene was a partner of Christ? No. For all we know she could just be one obsessive fan who stalked Jesus throughout his evangelization and claimed that she carries his child. It could happen; Jesus was a popular figure during his time; he is what some may call in our time: a pop idol.

So much for that, and now let's tackle the movie that is creating so much stir months before its release; the religious sector was clamouring for the followers of Christ not to watch the movie and that theatre owners not to show it on their cinemas. Protestations only attracted more attention and publicity led the movie to total blockbuster hit. I was looking forward to this movie adaptation after I read the book for the first time, as rumours were already spreading then that some Hollywood people had bought the rights. With so much hype surrounding the film, I went to the theatre with a lot of expectations and went home disappointed.

The Da Vinci Code was a work of fiction -- written with intrigues making Dan Brown's novel a religious conspiracy thriller; but when it was transported into another medium, it seemed to have lost its punch. It was a meticulous literal book-to-film translation. They struggled to cram everything from the book into this two and a half hour movie, leaving it both overstuffed and underwhelming. The filmmakers should have taken into consideration that this is a popular novel and that millions of people have read it at least once before going to the theatre, and that these same people compose most of their audience.

I know that there is much historical background that needs to be explained, but the film came out as far too talky and pretentious -- everything was explained twice. Filmmakers should follow the footsteps of Peter Jackson whenever they need to turn a book into a movie -- by using the language of film to tell the story: with images. Gandalf told much of the history of the ring in a long narrative dialogue, but we saw it in the beginning of the film with a voiceover not saying what we can obviously see in the images. I even winced when Sophie (Audrey Tatou) finally met her grandmother and the old woman said that she has so much to tell about their family; I felt like we were in for another five-minute monologue.

Tom Hanks depicted Robert Langdon as a wooden character and too reactive and contemplative to be a hero. Sophie Neveu, who was supposed to be a police cryptologist, didn't even break any codes except for the Fibonacci sequence. Captain Bezu Fache (Jean Reno) has no plausible reason (as shown in the movie) to believe Langdon to be the killer. Lt. Collet was reduced to just an ordinary cop when, in fact, he was the one to broke the case in the novel. And why must the viewer be subjected to Silas' (Paul Bettany), the angel of death albino-monk, self-flagellation more than once? The movie only got interesting when Ian McKellen finally appeared at Sir Leigh Teabing; here we saw an actor having fun with his character.

After all the broken codes and all the chasing through famous locations, it all boiled down on what you, as a viewer, believe. Ron Howard did not even dared to irk the Roman Catholic Church -- he played it safe; the book's theories were all thrown into the gutter, for the raving, lunatic Lord Teabing uttered them. I am not sure if Dan Brown is happy with the film, because it took away the book's little credibility and made the flaws more obvious. This is not the movie that could shake neither one’s faith nor the very foundation of mankind.

Judge me all you want, but keep the verdict to yourself

I never thought that I could be a paranoid racist at a certain point in my life, but I did, and it just happened. Herman and I watched The Da Vinci Code last Sunday night at The Cathay, and there was an empty sit between us and another couple. Then came in a single guy of Arab descent (Pakistani or Sri Lankan, I'm pretty not sure) who confirmed to me the sit number right next to me; I concurred and he sat there; less than a minute later, he asked me if it was indeed the Da Vinci movie we were going to watch.

My mind started to whirl and crazy ideas popped into my head. This guy was watching the movie alone and he was carrying a backpack, which he placed neatly on his lap. I can't help but study his movements the entire movie; he looked pretty much like a suicide bomber to me (Herman shared the same fears). I've probably said a thousand prayers every time I saw him check the handphone in his shirt pocket. I kept racking my mind at which point in the movie would it be best to make a statement and set off the bomb. Towards the end, he was checking his handphone more often that, I think, irritated the other couple next to him, making the guy to tell him to shut it. Could he be eliciting the same fears with this couple as he does with us?

Right after the screen went black and the credits started to roll in, I pulled Herman up and went straight to the exit door (we were actually the first to get out). I knew I went a bit crazy, but by God! I really went through a huge deliberation inside my head. Like what Herman said, a single guy like him shouldn't get into a movie theatre carrying a backpack; the bag looked pretty much empty when he laid it on his lap, but why does he have to hold onto a roll of newspaper and not put it inside instead? He kept on checking his phone; is he waiting for a call or timing the movie, or could he simply got bored with all the lecturing in the film? I kept on telling myself that it's not gonna happen that night, not in Singapore, but then security in theatres can be lax; I haven't seen any guards in that building except at the ground floor by the car park entrance: it is possible.

We're still alive nevertheless; but my paranoia got heightened. I checked the exit doors inside the cinema while the movie was showing, which I normally do only when the movie has finished. I knew I'm not going to survive if it happens because, well, I'd be blown out to bits and pieces for I'm right next to the bag. I thought of things such as what's going to happen to my son, who would look after him if we're gone, would his godparents keep the promises they made during his baptism?

As the movie uncovers a conspiracy theory, I was cooking up one conspiracy theory myself. Anyways, I'm still whole and so are that bag and the man carrying it. All I can say is that watching The Da Vinci Code is one heck of an experience, but it's not something I could say about the film (and that's for another entry).

Getting sweet things in large quantities can't be difficult

I know this is a bit late for Mother's day, but who cares? It is not like motherhood ends when Mother's day ends. Josh gave me something, which they did at school, for this special day; it was a paper-cut dress, which they coloured and painted on, and contains these words:

M -- is for the Many things she's given me
O -- is only that she's getting Older
T -- is for the tears she's shed
H -- is for Heart of gold
E -- is for her Eyes with love's light shining
R -- is Right and Right she'll always be

Josh may be rough with friends at times, but he can be the sweetest kid you'll ever find. Last Sunday, as I was changing his clothes, he said to me (without anyone coaxing him): "Hapi Mader's Day! I lab you, Mommy." I can't deny that I melted into a pile of goo; but that was just one of my moments with him that I will treasure forever.

Idleness is the devil's home for unprofitable, distracting musings

If you're an analyst programmer like me, here are some tips for you in killing time at work when you don't have an Internet access. Things to do at work when you have really nothing to work on:
1. Clean up the mess you've in the development environment. Delete the objects you have created as back-ups during your testing. Objects already promoted for testing must also be removed from your development environment.
2. Clean up your spooled files. If you have saved reports that are almost a year old, take them out of the system; chances are you don't need them anymore and they're eating up space; better yet, delete them all: leave no evidence.
3. Clean you desk. Throw away all those scratch papers you have doodled on while doing your programming. File the documents (user requirements, technical specs, test results) for each project you have worked on.
4. Clean your hard disk of unnecessary files (mp3s, movies, episodes of Lost). If you have installed some freeware softwares that you rarely use, uninstall them; they could be the cause of the slow performance of your PC.
5. Organize your mailbox. Archive or delete old emails. Check out those emails with large attachments of dancing baby videos, you might have already gone tired of seeing them; now is the time to purge. Yes, that includes the dirty emails, chain emails, and jokes.
6. If your work table is now squeaky clean and your PC is running fine, read programming reference books (if you're that boring) or fire up the e-book copy of your favourite novel stored in your hard disk; and if you have enough brass, read Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code in paperback to refresh your mind before watching the film.
7. Learn how to sleep with your eyes still open; while you're at it, try learning how to move the mouse while dozing off.

Espionage: a betrayal of trust

I had a good doze of J.J. Abrams' last week; I've just seen M:I-3 and the latest Lost Season Two episode Two for the Road. Things are really going well for this guy: a blockbuster movie, the best show on television land, and Alias, which just returned with all-new episodes to close the season, with ratings hitting through the roof. Who is he? He was the creator of Felicity, Alias, and Lost, and the person Mr. Tom Cruise sought after to write and direct the third Mission Impossible film. There were even rumours spreading that he might work on the next Star Trek movie.

Tom Cruise never really came across to me as an outstanding actor; movie poster boy, maybe, but never an actor to be watched to act. I've seen most of his movies, and I look forward to all the Mission Impossible films all because of the action sequences and I loved the TV series back when I was a kid. I can say that this third instalment was the best among the three: espionage-wise; I guess this is all due to the J.J. Abrams connection. I'm not really sure if I've seen too much of the TV show Alias that I wasn't actually surprised with all the twists in the movie. I was even hatching more twists on my head while watching the film; I had this inkling that Ethan Hunt's new wife was a plant and I read too much in her eyes and actions (Irina Derevko, anyone?) -- maybe she is and we'll get to only see it in the next MI movie. When I saw Greg Grunberg at the engagement party, he was the one who thought Ethan Hunt was boring, I was actually expecting Michael Vaughn to pop in there. This guy, I think, is one of Abrams' favourite, for he appeared in all of his projects that I know of: Ben's flatmate in Felicity, Michael Vaughn's best friend in Alias, and the pilot of Oceanic Air's Flight 815 that got sucked out by a monster and was dropped dead on top of a tree in Lost.

This third MI movie really showed that Ethan Hunt is not some kind of a lone agent (with only Luther Strickell, played by Ving Rhames, on his side) and Mission Impossible is really a team operation: a government's black ops unit. My only peeve is that this film looks so much like Alias only with more elaborate action scenes but stops short of being better. Was it because character development is limited when it comes to a two-hour flick as opposed to a TV series aired one hour every week? Execution of missions in Alias were even better, though I love the Vatican stint; that thing that Zhen (Maggie Q) did in a red, sexy dress has been done my Sydney Bristow a hundred times and even sexier. They even tried to make a character like Marshall Flickman: the techie-guy who wanders off while talking about intellectual stuff and gives silly one-liners; but Flickman's still the best.

Sydney Bristow can kick Ethan Hunt's ass any day when it comes to espionage. Concealment and disguise is a big thing for spies, and Ethan falls flat on his face with them. He was not a convincing priest inside of Vatican; Michael Vaughn did better and even made a character confess her sins to him. Hunt wasn't a convincing Italian DHL delivery boy either; whenever he speaks a different language, you could tell right away that it wasn't his mother tongue; Sydney could make you believe that she's a Swedish national in Stockholm. Ethan Hunt is not the best agent out there -- even daddy spy Jack Bristow could kick his ass.

Speaking of Lost, if you're a fan of the show, you'll get a kick in the gut if you watch the film credits: look out for the Hanso Foundation.

Election: a one-day snapshot of transient mass delusions

Today is major Election Day in Singapore; but there was not much fanfare or controversy surrounding to such a crucial date in this country's history. In some countries this is the turning point for their homeland's future; in this country state, however, it is just any other day -- more like voting for the class officers; I bet school politics would even be more exciting. The Presidential Election had passed without me even noticing it, because there was no one to contest the current one, so it was more of a walk-through.

I have never really paid much attention to the previous MP election, but after seeing the ad on TV on how to vote this next polling, it certainly grabbed my interest. The ad showed a sample ballot and how to fill it up; the surprising thing for me is that the voter only needs to put in a cross next to his choice. Choice of what you might ask. Not the candidate's name but the party name. Yes, they do party or block voting here. And, mind you, the ad finishes it off with the quote that voting is compulsory. Well, I thought that maybe they really needed to hear the voice of the people, for there really was not much Singaporean citizens; you also need to be twenty-two and above to vote here. What if you did not practised your right to vote? I heard you'd be asked to explain why you missed to exercise your right. Do you think he'd miss his Singapore shares in the following years?

Party voting wouldn't work in Philippine politics for those scoundrels change parties as often as they change mistresses. If one politician does not get his way in his current party, he'd cut off ties and join the other party who'd bend to his demands, or better yet, create his own party. Just think of a block wherein you have the best premium apple from the orchard mixed with a couple of rotten tomatoes, would you vote for that block against two green apples and an overripe chiku?

When eating an elephant take one bite at a time

I use spoon and fork at the same time when I eat; if I ever go to Canada, or more importantly in Montreal, and eat in that way, I'd be called a pig because it is yucky and disgusting. I was led to an article last night that caused quite an uproar in the Filipino community in Canada; I'd say I was disturbed by it myself. A seven-year old kid of Filipino ancestry was punished several times by the school's lunch monitor and principal for what they would consider as inappropriate table habits; Luc Cagadoc was transferred to a table to sit by himself whenever he would eat with both spoon and fork instead of only using one utensil.

I would gladly point that this could root to one fact that the principal and the lunch monitor had never left their country or much so even their town and mingle with people of different races and cultures. "It is not the way you see people eat every day. I have never seen somebody eat with a spoon and a fork at the same time," the principal Normand Bergeron said. He further reiterated that he simply wants the students to eat intelligently. I pity this man, for if the time comes that he visits Thailand or Indonesia, he'd be eating with disgusting people. I know that for westerners, eating is mostly with fork and knife, but that is because rice was never a staple in their dinner tables. Try eating Nilagang Baka using only those utensils, and we'll see if it still is eating intelligently.

If to them pushing the food to fill a spoon with a fork is baffling, what would they think if they see a Chinese person hold chopsticks on his right and a soup spoon on his left; bet they did not know that Chinese people use spoon too. Try eating Young Chow Fried Rice only in chopsticks; chances are you'd feel like an idiot fumbling through each grain; that's not eating intelligently now would it? These two people from Luc's school need some cultural awakening, and be brought to eat with Arabs or Indians. Would they consider watching Indians eat Roti Prata and Briani rice with hands pure torture or of Arabs eating their kebabs lounging on a couch abominable?

Of course there are certain rules or decorum to be followed, but if a Canadian who had never used chopsticks in his life goes to a Chinese country and eat with the locals, he'd be given a fork by the host if he's having a hard time tackling these little sticks. The local people would laugh at this foreigner's antics but they would patiently teach him how to use the chopsticks, not set him aside on another table to eat on his own with his fork and knife and call him barbaric.

When you are dining with a demon, you got to have a long spoon. -- Navjot Singh Sidhu