To Hell and Back: The PA Survival Kit

Note: I wrote this article for Agenda Magazine when I was a production assistant at Star Cinema. Thanks to writer Mouse Muñoz for helping me make this article better. While it's been years since I was a production assistant, I can only hope and pray that conditions are better for PAs now. 

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Mike de Leon, director of Kisapmata, Kakabakaba Ka Ba? and Batch ’81, was once asked by a production executive how many PAs he needed for a film project. De Leon answered, “I don’t know how many. I don’t know what they are or what they do.”

Production Assistants or PAs, as they are lovingly called, are those hapless young new graduates who do anything (perhaps virtually everything) on a movie set or television taping set. Their tasks may include finding a seat for the star, coercing bystanders to become spot extras, blocking anybody who might disturb the shoot (a.k.a. “trafficking”), running to wherever to purchase or find last-minute requirements, like for example, trained ants. There isn’t a particular job description. As long as there is something to be done, and it isn’t the problem of the director, production designer, or cameraman, who are you going to call? “Hoy, PA, halika dito!”

There are male and female PAs. However, experience has shown that more females tend to stay on the job. That is not a gender-biased opinion, but merely a statement of a fact. Or one of the greatest mysteries in TV and cinema.

PA-ing is such a difficult job. For anybody who would want to go up the entertainment field’s corporate ladder, he or she would most likely start as a production assistant. Unless you’re such an extremely talented person, then you might be fortunate enough to be given a directorial debut in your 20s, like Steven Spielberg. Mere mortals would need to sweat it out at the bottom rung.

As I’ve said, it’s a very difficult job because of its ambiguous nature. Any bit of unsolicited advice might come in handy to anyone contemplating on venturing into the unknown battlefield. Take it from a three-time movie PA veteran who didn’t know better.

With my fellow PAs Annette, Rizza, Jenny, Monette, JD and artist Gilda at the pictorial of
Christopher de Leon for the movie Madrasta.

Right from the start, inquire about your salary—if you are entitled to one.

Don’t be shy to ask how much you will be getting for a project. Some bosses or producers would state the amount of compensation before a PA starts working. Other would keep mum about money matters. Speak up or forever hold your peace, at least until the end of the project. Some producers are sensitive enough and concede you deserve something for your efforts, even a measly allowance for transportation and food. Face it, PAs are fed scraps. If you want a high-paying job, then don’t plan on being a PA.

Forget your school or where you came from.

Don’t be boastful about being a college graduate, even if you came from a very prestigious university. You don’t need to know Descartes, Calculus, or the five axioms of communication to perform well as a PA. Common sense is the key and not theory. Giving meal stubs to the crew, buying makeup and technical requirements and bringing the footage to the editing studio may seem like menial jobs. But what must be done must be done. And oh, you need enough endurance to ride rickety and rusty service vehicles. So don’t forget your tetanus shots.

Color bars cannot be bought from the grocery.

When I was a PA, I heard of this long-standing joke. TV PAs on their first day will most likely be asked by the technical staff to buy one kilo of color bars. The naïve, innocent person would search markets and grocery stores, search throughout the network to no avail— only to find that the color bars were in front of him all along! Right there on the television screen!

Color bars are those multicolored vertical lines you see before a TV station’s sign-on. You can’t find them in the grocery and you can’t buy them at all. You’ll learn. And the next time they tell you to get some canned laughter, don’t run off to the nearest 7-Eleven. The T.O.C. (Technical Operations Center) is your one-stop shop!

Learn to smoke. If you already know how, develop the astig stance.

Members of the technical crew have a nasty tendency to intimidate newcomers, specifically new PAs. They tease or provoke anyone who might seem a bit weak or defenseless. One determined PA started smoking to look astig and gained the respect of the crew. So help me. Why? I don’t know but a cigarette seems to be a more effective weapon than a Magnum .357. I’m not saying that you should develop a vice, but don’t hide in a corner either. Learn the art of deadma… or take kickboxing lessons!

Forget holidays and weekends. Forget romance.

If you love going out, then you can’t be in movie or TV production. While all your friends are partying, you have to be at some god-forsaken shanty in Payatas, taking note of camera grind and sequences taken. You can’t rest on holidays, either. Some production outfits have been known to schedule shooting on Election Day, Labor Day and Christmas Eve. Thankfully, no one shoots on Good Friday (unless it’s a documentary shoot about the Lenten Season). At least that’s one guaranteed holiday.

Don’t expect to have a love life, too. You’ll be too busy to have time to date, much less meet eligible mates. Settle for someone nice and cute on the set like uh, the tanod in charge of crowd control.

Stars are people, too.

They have moods. They have needs. They have lives, just like you do. And they love shopping. One PA was tasked to call an actress in time for a take. There were no cellphones then so he didn’t know where to find her. He had to look for her inside SM Megamall and he didn’t have a clue where to start. Did he find her? Let’s just say that the shooting had to pack-up. And guess who was blamed and crucified for not being efficient enough?

Other stars need to be pampered. Sometimes they need someone to listen to them ramble on and on, and you the PA, have to say and shall we say, make chika, to keep the artist entertained. Always look interested—even if you heard the star’s story on the news weeks ago.

Never get the director angry.

Directors have artistic temperaments and terrible tempers. Once enraged, get ready to duck! They throw the first thing they get their hands on— a script, a chair, or even the wardrobe mistress. Directors can be clever writers. They drop memorable lines like, “Huwag mauulit ang kapalpakan mo, kung hindi lalabas ka sa set ng walang ulo!”  When that happens, don’t fret. Think of it as part of the job. Remember, you’re supposed to be a master of the art of deadma. (Refer to previous item.)

If the job’s so tough, why would anybody want to be a PA? Life was never easy, especially in show business. I can only surmise that it’s prestige. When the film or TV show is in the can, you have that 15 seconds of fame (not 15 minutes, Andy Warhol never knew what PAs were or what they did, either) when you see your name in the end credits… right beside the guy who managed to find the trained ants.

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True to Ourselves

Note: This was a short speech I gave to the students of 12-Germaine of Miriam College High School last February 21, 2014. About 20 of my batchmates from Maryknoll (now Miriam) visited our alma mater on that day. Each of us was assigned a class to whom we shared our experiences and best memories of high school.
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Section 4-3 with our homeroom teacher Mrs. Ilda Cañal

Good morning! My name is Gay Ace Domingo. I was in section 4-3 when I was in fourth year high school. My homeroom teacher then was Mrs. Ilda Cañal who was also the moderator of The Maryknoller Newspaper. I was editor-in-chief of The Maryknoller in my senior year. I’ve always known since high school that I wanted to be a writer.

And I am now a writer. I contribute to magazines like Metro, Working Mom, UAAP Magazine, and to a website for women which is herword.com. I also write scripts for events, audio-visual presentations, radio programs, copy for advertisements and brochures, even speeches and contest nomination forms. I’ve been involved in the production of mainstream and independent films. I also do PR work for independent films. I developed my writing skills in Maryknoll, I think my career as a writer began when I was on the news staff of the school paper. 

I remember when I was a student like you I also listened to an alumna talking about her high school memories. Unfortunately, I don’t remember her name or what she said. But I do remember that she spoke like a Knoller — in Taglish and with a colegiala accent. She also moved her hands a lot when she explained. I think Knollers have a tendency to gesture a lot. Do you agree?

Aside from being able to write and speak from the heart, I learned a lot when I studied here. I also had lots of fun! I’d like to share with you some of my best memories:

Working as a team— No one is an island and success can only be achieved if we work as a team. The ability to collaborate is a life skill that should be honed as early as possible. In high school, we had plenty of group work, from reports and term papers, to class booth assignments at the high school fair, Songfests to cheering competitions, to the Noli Fest and Fili Fest and the presentation of the English play. There wasn’t a subject where one worked individually. Group work isn’t easy. There will those who will be more responsible than others. But at least those activities gave us a taste of the cooperation that we need to do later when we would be older.

Daily prayer— We prayed the rosary in class. I didn’t know then that it was a form of meditation but the habit began in high school. I still try to pray the rosary daily by myself. When I am commuting on the MRT, jogging, or waiting in line in the bank or whenever I can. Remembering the life of Jesus through the mysteries makes me feel reassured. Like Christ, we all go through joy, sorrow and glory in our lives. But like my mom always tells me, if you are going through a “Sorrowful Mystery,” simply wait three days and you will have your glorious resurrection.

Sunshine Committee—In high school, I was part of the Sunshine Committee. That’s the group in-charge of making the day more special for our classmate who is celebrating her birthday. We’d make a card for the celebrant, and then we’d ask all our classmates to sign it. There was a bulletin board where all the names of the celebrants for the month will be displayed. The Sunshine Committee was in-charge of that.

When I was already working, I still wanted to be the Sunshine Committee. I made birthday cards for my friends and sent these to them via snail mail. Today, I just greet my friends happy birthday through Facebook or SMS. But I try to remain thoughtful. I became more appreciative of birthdays because of my Sunshine Committee stint. And I learned that in High School.

Boys, boys, boys—This sharing will not be complete without an insight or two about what I learned about guys. Being a teenager isn’t easy but studying in Maryknoll sure made my teen life more fun and interesting. We had an interaction (parang school-sanctioned afternoon party) with a class from Ateneo when we were third year. I met my first major crush through that. Like me, he was the class president. Months after the interaction, we got handcuffed at the high school fair. It was a kilig moment! I invited him to be my date for my prom. He turned me down because he had to attend his friend’s graduation. I was disappointed but twenty-five years later, Mr. Class President and I are still friends!

Speaking of prom, I got another date, thanks to my friend who set me up with her brother’s friend. My date took me to the Manila Hotel (venue of the prom) in a Volkswagen Beetle. Two things I learned from him.

One, asking your date about how he spent his day is a nice icebreaker. It’s a sure-fire way to get the conversation going.

And two you should always call your parents to say where you are. Wala pang cellphone n’on. But as soon as my date and I arrived at Manila Hotel, he looked for a payphone and called his parents to say that we arrived there safely.

Another practical advice about dating that I got was from our Christian Living Education teacher Mrs. Sison. When we asked her “How do I know if a guy likes me?” she answered, “You wait for him to tell you!” Oo nga naman. Nothing is as clear as that. It doesn’t matter what Candy or Chalk magazine says. No use decoding the signals.

 True to one’s self—As I grew older, I think I’ve developed the adult behavior of over-analyzing, making things more complicated than they really are.

True, life may not be always simple. But during problematic situations, it is worth remembering that the most basic values are the best tenets in life: Cooperation (work as a team), faith in God (pray everyday), thoughtfulness (be considerate of others), and honesty (be sincere in your dealings)—these are always relevant, helpful and changeless. These are also things you learn in high school.

To cap my sharing, let me tell you about my high school graduation speaker. His name was Father Dave, a six-foot tall American priest who was our high school chaplain. In his speech, he revealed that minutes before the graduation ceremony one of our batchmates—a petite girl—told him pointblank to please make his speech short. Instead of being taken aback, Father Dave admitted that he was rather impressed with her honesty. He said that that girl represented what the Maryknoll student really is.

She is true to herself.  

The Knoller is one of the most unladylike. She laughs hard, talks loudly, sits on the floor (do you still do that?), eats with her mouth full, is very galawgaw. Yeah, we may not have poise but we are outspoken. We say what’s on our mind. We might get into trouble because of that but we will not have it any other way.

You can forget everything I said this morning but I do hope you remember to be always true to yourself.

Thank you and good day!

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T.I.I.S.

Note: I wrote this when I was 26 years old and submitted it to an inter-campus newspaper based in Katipunan called Kampus. The editor found this worthy to be published. Except for some minor changes, this is how the article appeared in Kampus. 

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I used to comfort myself by saying that I had something in common with Lea Salonga.

It's been a long time since college and I've yet to have a boyfriend. Ever. There was a time that I felt sorry for myself for being in this situation.

My all-girl high school barkada would have a Christmas dinner every year. It was fine during the first few years.

Back then, only two out of ten of us would have a boyfriend to bring along. But later on, as we moved to college then to professional life, many of my friends managed to find dates who eventually became their steady partners (who eventually became their husbands). The unattached circle thus became smaller and smaller.

I began receiving presents with gift tags that read "Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year from (Friend) and (Boyfriend)." (Incidentally, does the note on the tag mean that her boyfriend shared in paying for the gift?)

During group photo sessions—for lack of a masculine arm to link with—I found myself holding on to the four-foot plastic snowman by the doorway.

Valentine's Day, at least, is not so bad. There is something about the romantic season that lets out angst and sentimentality. One time in college, a sympathetic classmate gave out little neon-colored papers to tape to our shirts. We called these papers "body tags." And these body tags for Valentine's Day read, "T.I.I.S. ('Tang Ina I'm Single)" and "Hindi Ako Nag-iisang Nag-iisa." (Obviously inspired by the slogan of the supporters of the assassinated Sen. Ninoy Aquino whose slogan was "Hindi ka nag-iisa.") In the Day of Hearts, we, of the unattached species, realized that there is safety in numbers.

Of course, it's one thing to be unattached. But quite another to have yet to have a romantic relationship.

At reunions with college classmates, I get "interrogated." Not only once did I hear them ask, "So, may boyfriend ka na?"

"Wala pa," I say as if I need to say it.

"Bakit?" they ask as if they need to ask.

Honestly, I don't know for certain. Maybe it's because of the crazy world I decided to get into after graduation. Suffice it to say that my work is tough. The schedule is taxing. And the kind of men I usually meet are those who are, uhmmm... more interested in men. I asked my mom one time if it was still possible for me to get married. "Only if you change jobs," she replied.

Somebody theorized that it was probably because I prefer to keep my hair short. (Guys are said to like girls with long hair, he reiterated.)

Others suggested that I try putting on more makeup. (which I find a hassle to do), or acting more feminine (which I can't do). As for poise, I laugh out loud when I find something funny and I shriek and jump up and down when I am overjoyed. Wa-poise na kung wa-poise.

Call me unladylike if you want but "demure" is simply not me.

Or maybe it IS just me.

I consider myself more strong-willed and maybe sometimes braver than some guys. I see nothing wrong with asking out a guy who I find interesting. Just because I am a woman that doesn't mean I can't make the first move, right?

If I realize a guy is nice, then I tell him so. Sometimes, I write why I find him fascinating and share my thoughts with him. If I get rejected, I comfort myself by saying that at least I tried. Also, at least I know how guys feel when girls tell them, "I'm sorry I'm busy."

I've come to appreciate how politely creative some guys could be when it comes to declining an invitation. I've been thrown lines like, "I don't go out on Fridays because I have a TV show to catch," and "I would like to go out with you but kailangan kong mamalengke."

It might take time before I find my one true love, but I am sure that he's somewhere out there.

Around the corner. Around the bend. Or way down the road of life. And I know in my heart that he will take me as I am because I will accept him for whoever he is. He will be someone I will love and respect. 

I just hope I'd meet him very soon. 

I used to comfort myself by saying that I have something in common with Lea Salonga. Now, as we all know, the coach of The Voice of the Philippines is already married with a daughter. 

Love Story a la Erik Matti

Note: I wrote this as an email letter to director Erik Matti in July 2009, way before On The Job and right after he previewed The Arrival to a group of his friends and colleagues at Mogwai— the restaurant in Cubao X that he owned but had to close a few years ago. Back in 2009, Erik asked what we thought of The Arrival and so I wrote this to him.

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Personal movies always hold a special place in my heart because they are the kind of films that directors really want to do, when they are given the freedom they don't have when they're assigned a studio movie. These films are who they really are, what they truly want to say to the world.

The Arrival is Erik Matti's most personal film to date. I do believe there are parts of him in projects like Scorpio Nights 2, Mano Po 2... and a lot of him in Prosti. :) But, how do I say this? The Arrival is so Erik.

I liked The Arrival because it's charming, poignant, funny, sweet (which—believe it or not—is what Erik Matti is in real life). After all, the guy digs floral shirts, cooks and his heart melts just thinking of his two daughters.

I think, The Arrival is to guys what rom-coms are to girls. Many girls probably think that most guys are out to have a good time and break girls' hearts; some ladies do not realize that there are men out there who are also vulnerable, passionate, steadfast, and stubborn when it comes to matters of the heart. There might even be a lot of men like The Arrival's Leo (Dwight Gaston).

Now that I remember Leo, he reminds me of another unforgettable character in another unforgettable movie—Robert de Niro in Taxi Driver. Like de Niro's Travis, Leo is lonely and taken for granted. For three years, Leo has been working as a book keeper in an office where co-workers don't remember his name and treat him like shit. (One office mate tries to trick Leo about a project for work.)

Leo's home life is no different. He lives alone with a goldfish as only companion. Neighbors seek Leo for drinks, but only to uhm, borrow his folding table so they'd have something to use for their drinking sprees. One of the images that stuck the most in my mind was a neighbor pulling out the folding table while Leo was eating dinner of rice and de-lata corned beef. Leo simply raised his plate and let the arrogant neighbor take out the table from under his nose. Funny but sad.

So when Leo sees a way out of his dead-end life, he pursues it without reservations. He leaves his job, his home, destroys the SIM card of his cellphone so he can have a shot at happiness.

Again, much like many romantics, the reason for Leo's renewed spirit is a woman, at least the idea of one. He thinks he'd find his "dream girl" in the "dream house" that haunts him in his sleep. The quest takes him to Murcia, a town that is not far from Bacolod.

The second part of The Arrival takes place in rural Negros, with most of the dialogue in Hiligaynon. This is where Leo's story takes a more interesting turn since what happens in Murcia is not what he hoped or expected. In any case, Leo encounters this single mom named Melanie in an ordinary way (which he interprets as extraordinary) so he decides to stay longer in this town. In the process he strikes a unique friendship with Arnel and Arnel's friend who has a son who is about to graduate from high school.

We stayed tuned to Leo's character-defining journey because Dwight Gaston infuses Leo with innocence and charm, one can't help but reach out to the fellow. Leo starts out as a wimp and comes out a stronger, more confident man. May I also say that, among many other things, I adore the "malambing" way Leo calls Arnel "Nel."

The Arrival has sex, nudity, comedy, romance, music, lovely locations - things that make for commercial considerations. But it also talks about the disparity of city and rural living, feel-good wishes and heartbreaking truths, hazy dreams and harsh realities.

At the risk of revealing too much, towards the end, Leo is able to make one of his dreams come true—he builds his dream house, one that is made of wood (and not concrete like the bungalow that he saw in his sleep). Roomy, comfortable, rustic, real— and filled with flowers.

I'd like to think that making The Arrival is the fulfillment of Erik's most fondest wishes so far. The REAL Erik Matti has arrived. He is home. And I am happy for him.   

Congratulations Erik! God bless you!