Why You Should Date a Filmmaker

On the set of "Mga Anino ng Kahapon" ("Shadows of the Past") with assistant director Mara Marasigan,
line producer Ron Genato, producer Alemberg Ang, and director Alvin Yapan.

This list was created as a response to an article posted on Facebook by friend Jed Medrano entitled "8 Reasons You Should Never Date a Filmmaker." (Refer to http://thoughtcatalog.com/cassie-kelsey/2014/06/8-reasons-you-should-never-date-a-filmmaker/)

Being a filmmaker myself (I produce, write and publicise films), I began a list to dispute the article cited above. I posted my list on Facebook and then other friends in movie production added to it. The list turned out to be fun!

Here's what that we came up with:

Reasons Why You SHOULD Date a Filmmaker:

1. A cinematographer will light up your life.

2. A director always sees the bigger picture.

3. An editor removes all the bad takes.

4. A musical scorer puts the right notes. 

5. A screenwriter knows good character.

6. A producer/production manager always finds ways.

7. A production designer sets things right.

8. Visual effects will turn day into night and give you the moon and the stars.

9. Crowd control will stop traffic.

10. Makeup will cover your flaws and enhance your features.

11. The grip will hold you tight.

12. The location manager will always find a place for you.

13. The assistant director will fit you into her busy shooting schedule.

From editor-director Lawrence Fajardo

14. The utility guy knows how you want your coffee

15. Rain FX will shower you with love.

16. The equipment caretaker will handle you with care.

From writer-producer-documentary filmmaker Babyruth Villarama-Gutierrez

17. The production assistant will assist you in all your needs, including giving you a back rub and massage.

18. The focus puller has his eyes only on you. 

From producer Alemberg Ang

19. The filmmaker will make you the "star" of his life.

From editor Chuck Gutierrez

20. The sound recordist will always listen to you... even if you need a million takes to say things right.

21. The film editor will bring out the best in you, will present your best side.

22.  The colorist will color your world with the different hues... until you get saturated. 


... You get the picture. :) Seriously, filmmakers are among the most passionate and loving people I know. Yes, we have been criticised for being temperamental and moody, and for being struggling artists. I do not say that those things are completely wrong and are always false. But filmmakers are human and we should be given as much chance at romance as the next person!

* * * * * * * *

Life at the Summit

Mother Gaile, myself, Alma, Annie, Anna, Rosey and daughter Ameya, and Perla at our reunion
at Nomnomnom Happy Food (Pos Building, Tomas Morato Extension, QC)

I never had a grand career plan. I just knew since I was Grade 6 that I wanted to be a writer. I took up AB Communication in college to prepare for that. Sometime around college, I realized I also wanted to work in the movies. Thus, my career goals became: to be a writer, to work in the movies, to be a mom and a wife. (Raising children and taking care of a husband are careers in themselves— just ask any mom/wife!)

I’ve been lucky to find work that I like. After graduation from college, I immediately found work in a movie company where I stayed for four years (my longest employment stint). I worked in a teen magazine and then in a PR agency.

And then I found work at Summit Media. Back then it was still called Summit Publishing and the company had a handful of magazine titles: Preview, Candy, Cosmopolitan Philippines and Good Housekeeping Philippines.

Maybe it was fate that brought me there.

While I was still working in the movie company, I contributed a few articles to Preview and I continued to do so even after I left the production outfit.

I was already working as a writer at a PR agency when I dropped by the Summit Publishing office (located at the ground floor of then Sogo Department Store on the corner of Pioneer St. and Edsa, where Robisons Forum now stands) to claim gift certificates as my writer’s fee from the publisher’s secretary.

“Saan ka na nagwo-work?” the secretary inquired.

“Sa PR agency,” I replied.

“Naghahanap kami ng PR,” she said.

I had some background in publicity and promotions since I was also involved in promoting movies for my first job. Being a writer at the PR agency gave me a front-row view into the ins and outs of public relations. I think I had a shot at that PR job at Summit.

A few days later, I found myself being interviewed by the publisher. I don’t remember how I was told that I got the job.

But I clearly remember being happy at Summit Publishing, I was happy working at Summit Publishing’s Marketing Department.

A lot had to do with the people I worked with, the enjoyable experiences and the lessons I learned.

There were just a few of us in the department. There was Gaile, our “Mother,” who was our Marketing Manager. There was Perla who was in-charge of in-magazine promotions (like the prizes for subscribers who answered survey questionnaires, raffle draws and contests such as the Search for Preview Cover Girl). Alma, Anna and Meggy took care of events (at separate times). And then Rose Ann a.k.a. Rosey came along and handled all the events for then new entertainment title YES! Magazine (now considered a Bible in showbiz circles).

We had artists like Christopher, Raffy, and John who created the post-event coverage ads, and other print ads and collaterals.

That’s the Marketing Family.

We were housed in the backroom of the office, and our workspace was surrounded by towers of current magazines and back issues.

Emailing press releases was unheard of then. So I wrote one press release per month per magazine title, printed the press release on bond paper, put the PR in a bag with a magazine and a little gift. I delivered the press release bags to the lifestyle departments of broadsheets located in the Port Area.

Whenever there was a new title, I’d accompany the magazine editor to a series of interviews on radio and television. When Cosmopolitan Philippines had its first Bachelor issue, editor-in-chief Myrza Sison was interviewed on the talk show “Ms D.” hosted by Dina Bonnevie, together with a few hunks that were featured in the Cosmo Bachelor Issue. That TV appearance was one of the biggest PR “coups”/ achievements of my term as Press and Publicity Marketing Associate.

My work was interesting but it paled in comparison to the exciting, dedicated and passionate people I worked with.

Perla had a knack for charming advertisers into giving products as prizes/giveaways for readers. There was a time she single-handedly came up with a vacation giveaway contest wherein the prize was a trip for two to Palawan complete with airfare and accommodations—entirely on barter agreements. I can still remember how Perla patiently encoded and tabulated the survey answers of readers, going to the office early and staying late to finish the tedious work.

Anna, Annie and Alma (triple A’s) were the experts in organizing events and launches. Whether it was a major launch like an anniversary of Cosmopolitan at the Glorietta Activity Center, a simple magazine sampling at a movie premiere, or Halloween Treats for kids at a family restaurant, they did their work with utmost fervor.

Meggy’s legacy to me is the term “bobo job,” literally translated in Tagalog is “trabahong tanga.” Now, this cuddly lady never meant to undermine any task. After all, any assigned work is important and would always require some kind of smarts in order to complete. Meggy just used the term “bobo job” to refer to simple tasks like folding and pasting tent cards, or putting giveaways inside goody bags, which were easy and required little effort on the mind. Whenever we needed breaks from the stress and pressure, we, at the Marketing Department looked forward to doing these “bobo jobs.” Thanks for coming up with the term, Meggy! And for showing me a unique way to relax!

Rosey wore the sexiest outfits to work like spaghetti-strapped blouses and the slimmest jeans. She accomplished a lot even if her personal life had its own challenges. I’d like to think that YES! became a top-selling magazine partly also because of her efforts to push the title by promoting it everywhere she could—in radio stations, comedy bars, awards nights, and Tagalog movie premieres.  

The moving force of our Marketing family was definitely Mother Gaile. Her Sony cellphone that looked like a high-tech TV remote control remains etched in my mind, same with her tips and advice on love and career.  Mother’s first lesson to me is about persistence: She said, “Kung nag-‘no’ na sa inyo, mag-offer ng alternative. Huwag basta mag-give up.” The second is about not being paranoid: She told me, “Huwag gumawa ng sariling multo.” Smart, sassy and way prettier than the actress and the TV host that others said she resembled, it’s not surprising that Mother Gaile easily wowed radio station managers and movie moguls.  (Not to mention magazine editors and art directors.)  

Now that I’m working freelance, I do miss those days when I had a barkada in the office, like my officemates at Summit. They were the special people I shared Tapa King meals with during overtime, marched with from Pioneer St. to Edsa Shrine during Edsa Dos, shrieked with during the midnight screening of the reissued Exorcist. 

But there comes a time when you know when you have to move on. I knew I had to go when I received an offer to work on a movie again.

Days before I ended my almost three-year Marketing stint at Summit, Myrza sang the refrain of the song “Nobody Does It Better” to me. I’d like to believe that was Myrza’s tribute to my contribution as Marketing Associate for Press and Publicity.

I think about all these now because Gaile, Anna, Alma, Annie, Perla, Rosey and I met again recently after what seems like ages. I kept telling them that my Marketing days were among the happiest in my career. I felt their love and support. We were sisters in “bobo jobs,” and they accepted me in spite of my hang-ups and boo-boos (one of which was sneaking out to have my hair cut at Propaganda Salon when I should have been manning the magazine booth at Glorietta Activity Center).

Although many changes have happened in our individual lives (Anna, Annie and Perla are still with Summit Media but have transferred to Advertising. Gaile is now with a global bank. Rosey stayed in the US for a while and is now a balikbayan, married and with two daughters. Meggy now lives in the US, is married and is expecting her first baby. Alma has her own business.), I think we’re still the same Marketing Girls at our core: hardworking, patient, sincere, supportive. 

To Anna, Alma, Annie, Perla, Rosey, Meggy, and Mother Gaile… I’d love to sing “Nobody Does It Better" to all of you… but I’m tone deaf!

So let’s have a group hug, instead!

Love,

Gay  

Ateneo Memories

Note: This was an essay I wrote for the Blue Roast souvenir program. The Blue Roast is a get-together of all graduating college seniors of Ateneo de Manila. This is my own "throwback" in commemoration of our college grad that happened in late March 1993. 
____________

Ateneo AB Communication Batch 1993

I’ll miss the Quad. As freshmen, my friends I would gather at this bench under the big tree. There, Trixie and Penny would stand on the bench and dance the Hawaii Five-O. Triccie would coax Yen and me to accompany her to the noontime mass in the chapel so we could all see a “heavenly sight.” Sometimes, Cynts would bring cards and tell our fortunes. ABelle would be on the lookout while Tania would laugh at how silly we could all be.

Those were the days when we’d sit around and talk, when we’d plan to come to school in dresses the following day.

I’ll miss how the summer leaves would fall from the big trees in the Quad. How I enjoyed to step on the dry, crisp leaves. But I loved to see the leaves fall from the trees; I called that spectacle “snowing leaves” because the leaves were like dancing snowflakes descending to the ground.

I’ll miss the Colayco Hall lobby. The noise. The running. The singing by the Glee Club members and the ACIL barkadas. Here at the Colayco lobby, we planned Philosophy and Theology presentations, devised advertising campaigns and gave birth to a new TV station. I’ll miss the sturdy wooden benches where we napped during breaks. I’ll miss the endearing way Leslie called the entire place the “Lagdameo Lobby.”

I’ll miss life in the orgs. Movie-watching with the young ladies of New Beginnings, cuddling the babies at CRIBS. Hiding from my Research Editors because my articles for The Guidon were late. Talking with Ateneo Archives’ Ditas who was very helpful to me. General Assemblies with meriendas and working for a big project like the National Video Contest. I’ll miss diligent Aegis reps like Annette, Marivic, Paul, Kitten and Bambi.

I’ll miss the Ateneo Rizal Library, particularly the Reference Section. I’ll miss leafing through the old Aegis yearbooks. I’ll miss the comforting hum of the aircon, the whispering of the fellow students who shared the same table with me, and the stern librarians who scolded us when we were a bit noisy. I’ll probably even miss wearing my ID inside the lib.

I’ll miss the conversations that Sandy and I would often have at the lib, of how she’d tell me “Mamaya ka na lang umuwi.” I’d stay and we’d talk more about the things that were important to us.

I’ll miss my favorite teachers.

Like Mrs. Lolly Lacuesta. Through her English classes, I developed an interest in research, a liking for The Beatles, and a passion for self-improvement.

Like Tatay Nim Gonzalez who scared us at the Orientation Seminar by telling us AB Communication freshmen to shift out. But many of us stayed and we discovered that he’s no terror at all.

Like Father Gorospe, S.J. who taught me that real love is paschal in nature: “You must be willing to die to your own selfishness.”

Like Mr. Bobby Guevarra whose passion for social justice is infectious. I am amazed that he remembers the names of his students and I felt guilty whenever he apologized for his “boring” lectures. I will always remember his advice to us to go where we are most needed.

Like Father Nick Cruz, S.J., who taught me to see much more just by watching movies. Like Mark Escaler who inspired me to write long papers for Film Seminar.

And like Dr. Antonette Palma-Angeles who urged me and my classmates in Philosophy to “stop and think.”

I’ll miss the homey atmosphere of the Comm Department. I’ll especially miss MT (Mr. Tony Gallano) who is not only an excellent editor and videographer, but also a great critic and a fine singer.

I’ll miss my friends very much. I won’t see them for a while because we’ll be too busy pursuing our dreams. I’ll miss Kitten’s sweetness, Badje’s knack for finding time to enjoy life (like play tennis) even if life could be hectic. Candy’s patience and Mickey Mouse collection. Manny and Teta and their debates. Tachie’s singing. Penny’s exceptional wit. Sandy’s green apples and interesting stories. Hannah’s support and quiet understanding. Arnie’s updates. Joy’s innocence. JG’s loud laughter. Dong’s good intentions. Leslie and his sandwiches (wrapped in tissue paper and placed inside the plastic of the tasty sandwich bread). Thesis bonding with Maitel, Ebet, Romer and Jam.

I’ll miss Nessa and our conversations at the Bellarmine Bus Stop.

I’ll miss bothering the people at the Department of Student Welfare Services (DSWS) like (Father) Nono, so I could use their typewriter to type my reports and papers.

I’ll miss the masses at the chapel and at the Rizal Mini-Theater.

I’ll miss walking along the path to Gate 3 at 7:00 in the morning. I’ll miss looking up the sky and seeing the morning sun shining through the tree branches.

I’ll miss the sunsets I encounter when I when I head for home.

I’ll miss treading the field across Bellarmine Hall. I hope that the Bellarmine Field will always be open. I hope that a structure will never-ever be built there. I firmly believe that the Ateneo needs open spaces and that the field across Bel deserves to be an open space.  

I’ll miss the comfort and safety of familiar places and things. I’ll yearn for the warmth and company of the people I met at the Ateneo.

I’ll miss all of them. It’s comforting to know that even if we have to move on, the memories will always stay.

The Magic of Happy-Ever-After

Note: From 1997 to around 2002, I was reviewing films for The Philippine Star. This was my review of the Star Cinema romantic comedy Got 2 Believe directed by Olivia M. Lamasan that appeared in The Philippine Star (coincidentally!) on March 16, 2002. Here’s the link to that review: http://www.philstar.com/entertainment/154050/magic-happy-ever-after. This is my simple tribute to the late Rico Yan who passed away 12 years ago; he would have been 39 years old last March 14. 

---------------- 

Don’t look now but Philippine cinema has found a new heroine.

She’s the would-be spinster. Four recent movies had for a female lead a single woman faced with the possibility of spending the rest of her life without a partner.

Sharon Cuneta’s character in Pagdating ng Panahon belonged to a family of spinsters. Jolina Magdangal’s perky persona in Kung Ikaw ay Isang Panaginip was a boyfriend-less gal who fell in love with a handsome face on a billboard. In Ikaw Lamang Hanggang Ngayon, Regine Velasquez played a lonely mail sorter who vented her frustration by carving a message on a park bench. And in Got 2 Believe, Claudine Barretto is an eccentric wedding coordinator who dreams of walking down the aisle very soon.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems we haven’t met this much lonely women in such a short time. If attractive, personable women in movies like Sharon Cuneta, Jolina Magdangal, Regine Velasquez, and Claudine Barretto have difficulty finding Mr. Right, what more the regular-looking women in real life?


But back to Got 2 Believe... The story starts with the tempestuous relationship between Toni (played by Claudine), owner of Ever After Wedding Store, and Lorenz (Rico), wedding photographer. Commitment-phobic Lorenz unwittingly photographs Toni during her awkward wedding moments and has her pictures published in a bridal magazine. A crucial assignment prompts Lorenz to seek Toni’s help.

To appease her, Lorenz offers to find Toni a boyfriend. Toni adamantly turns him down. Even if Toni fears ending up an old maid like her aunts, she isn’t about to overlook the humiliation that Lorenz has caused.

But love conquers all and opposites do attract. The girl who believes in "happily ever after" and the guy who doesn’t believe in "forever" are about to find out they’re perfect for each other.

Got 2 Believe is an entertaining love story. It also tastes as sweet as candy. Cinematography has a kind of glistening quality and in almost all of the scenes, the characters are dressed in pastels like fuchsia, aqua, yellow, mint green and purple, lending a hint of fantasy. The only time the picture turns dark is when Lorenz has dreams that reveal his fears, and later, his realizations.




Vhong Navarro, as Lorenz’s assistant, Rudolf, lights up every scene he’s in with his perfect delivery of dialogue and rib-tickling antics. Carlo Muñoz and Nikki Valdez, who play friends and business partners of Toni, have their memorable comic moments as well. Dominic Ochoa may have played the "na-basted" suitor a hundred times before but his take in Got 2 Believe is his most endearing to date. As Perry, a lawyer, Dominic gives new dimension to the phrase "losing with dignity and grace."




Claudine is admirable for letting down her guard and being very "game." In keeping true to the Toni character, Claudine allowed herself to trip, fall on her knees, be dragged across a bowling alley and cry unabashedly. Rico deserves equal praise for playing the wacky situations very well. But in the dramatic scene where Toni confronts Lorenz at his studio and his expression shifts from vulnerable to detached, that moment was among Rico’s finest.




What do I like best about Got 2 Believe? It’s the key. "Huh? What key?" 


In the film, Toni became close to three men. The first was locked out of the wedding store, Toni’s private sanctum, because he left his key. The second gently handed Toni her key just as he was dropping her off from a date. This guy never got a chance to come in. The third was the only one who easily entered the store and the only one who stubbornly clutched the key, refusing to surrender it to Toni. Symbolically, it was guy no. 3 who held the key to Toni’s heart. Pretty special and clever touch, I should say.

As you leave the theater after watching Got 2 Believe, you’ll feel light and giddy and maybe even hopeful. Worried about spending the rest of your life alone? Well, fear not. As the movie shows, whoever you are, even if you’re getting older and nearing the so-called finish line, thin as a reed or plump with illusions of fitting into a sleeveless gown with a high-slit, o kahit makapal ka pa mag-make up... don’t fret, you’ll find true love. Just believe.

The "Hatid" Factor

Years ago, I couldn’t drive. I tried driving school five times. On a recent visit to the Land Transportation Office (LTO) to get a student permit, the computer clerk said to me after he typed my name, “Ay, ma’am, may record na kayo dito.”

For a while, I was a yearly visitor to the LTO to apply for a driver's permit.

“Oo, nga eh,” I sighed. “Wala kasi akong practice, lagi kong nakakalimutan yung itinuturo sa akin. Kaya ulit ako nang ulit sa driving school. Ulit rin ako nang ulit sa pagkuha ng student permit.”



If I had more resources, both time and money, I would use it to buy a good car, learn to drive, get a license and drive myself. I don’t like imposing on family and friends so I could hitch a ride with them. Gasoline is not cheap. My house or my destination could be out of their way. And sometimes—I might be wrong though—I feel even the slightest hesitation or annoyance when I muster the courage to ask, “Ah, puwede ba akong sumabay?”

On other occasions, I can’t bring myself to enjoy the company and conversation at parties because the venue is inaccessible to public transportation and half of the time I would be wondering to myself, “How will I get home?" 

I definitely don’t want others to feel they need to bring me home. I don’t want to be seen as an obligation. 

So it’s always a pleasant surprise for me when, at the end of a gathering, a new acquaintance would ask me with a smile, “Do you have a way home?” and offer to drive me to a point where I could safely get a ride. And I feel very thankful when the Good Samaritan brings me all the way to my destination.

I’ve been blessed to know many of the latter.

When I was working at the promo department of a movie company, I often accompanied actors and actresses to the TV shows where they promoted their upcoming movies. One time, I booked a then struggling drummer/sidekick to promote a big-name action star’s flick. We met at the sports compound/home-base studio of a noontime show. The sidekick’s wait took longer than the actual interview. After saying his spiel about the movie’s playdate, I thought that we would simply part ways. He would head off to his next appointment and I would ride the taxi back to the office. 

“Saan ka?” he asked.



“Sa office sa Jusmag,” I answered.

He then said,

“Hatid na kita.”



We hardly talked during the 30-minute ride. His onscreen persona was a noisy comic. In the car, he seemed quiet and sad. 

Years later, he became a host of his own noontime show, got involved in many controversies and made enough money to build lavish homes and buy a fleet of vehicles, including a yacht and an airplane. Many negative comments have been said of this brash, loud host but I will always regard him as the fellow who drove me to my office. 



More recently, I interviewed a celebrity whose acting debut was playing a masseuse in a daring film that became the toast of the international filmfest circuit. Handsome, sincere, and very close to his grandmother who raised him. His lola must have raised him well because when our pictorial-interview ended, he also offered to drive me to the publishing company where I worked.

Today, he’s called the teleserye prince and no longer needs to disrobe for a film. He’s proven his talent, and he backs that up with a good character.

I find it odd whenever people that I am not close to would offer rides. Like the doctor to the barrio (another interviewee) who immediately volunteered to drive me home when I met him in Paco, Manila. He retold his experiences as a volunteer provincial health officer while he drove me to my residence in Quezon City. He even willingly took a side trip to Loyola Heights so I could deliver a letter to my college teacher.



A film director-friend who I rarely see brought me home after an event in Makati. During the hour-long drive, he happily related how he fell in love again and persisted in courting a colleague after numerous rejections. Of course, his efforts paid off. In spite of his tough demeanor—and the bold movies he’s made—this guy’s really a “softie,” a romantic and a real gentleman.

I find it a bit odd that the ones I am close to are more hesitant to offer me a ride. Maybe for good reason?  

There was a guy I was crushing on. I listened when he wanted to talk about his problems. I tried to be supportive when he was in between jobs. During one night out, he suddenly invited a female friend of his to join us. That was fine with me. What got my ire was when he asked me, “Okay lang sa iyo kung ihatid natin siya?” That coming from a guy who never even accompanied me to get a taxi or hailed a taxi for me. 

Maybe it was his indirect way of telling me he didn’t feel the way I did for him.

I’ve asked myself why this “hatid” issue is a big deal to me. I realized it’s connected to my father who passed away in 2008. I wasn’t close to my dad. Yet for all his weaknesses and undesirable traits, he always drove for me. He took me to and from school; he brought me to my high school parties and events, and my activities and meetings for our high school paper.

My dad was not expressive. He was a man of few words. But he always drove for my siblings, my mom and me. That is one fact I always hold on to. I’d like to think that in spite of my dad’s weaknesses, he really loved us because he drove for us.

In as much as I shouldn’t, I’ve made this concept of “hatid” a yardstick of kindness and care. I know it’s unfair because people have their reasons for not giving me a ride. I should not feel bad if they don’t give me a ride since love and care can be shown in other ways.

That’s what I tried telling myself when a friend of mine refused to drive me home, even if my residence was only a 20-minute drive from his.

You see, I helped this friend a lot and I was there when he needed someone the most to make one of his dream projects come true. My assistance was borne out of a deep affection and love. I knew he saw me only as a friend so I did not expect him to reciprocate. I did favors and walked the extra mile for him because I believed it was the right thing to do. As a friend. And as a human being. I saw firsthand how he agonized over this big life challenge, and concluded that it was not good to leave him at his most vulnerable.

“Pero hindi ka man niya lang hinahatid,” a female friend pointed out to me.

Maybe it was a just a matter of time that my guy friend and I would have a falling out. I couldn’t handle seeing him getting close to his special girl, so I upped and left.

Later, he explained to a common friend that he refrained from driving me home because doing so would only raise my hopes. Had he told me that, I would have replied, “I’m not asking you to love me back. I just wish you’d drive me home once in a while.”

In any case, my “hatid” issues were resolved in 2013 when I finally got my driver’s license. To me that plastic card is not just a symbol of independence for I could now comfortably go to where I please without relying on others. More important, the license has become my access to be kinder, nicer, and more considerate to others. I certainly know and appreciate how a simple offer to drive can go a long, long way.

* * * * * * * *

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. 

----------

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.

* * * * * * * *