Somehow I’m writing about this again. As I mentioned in my previous post, I woke up at around 5am the other night and because my door is open a bit to let my kitty in and out of the room (she sleeps with me at night) and thought that the light to the kitchen was turned on since sometimes my mom wakes up at night to have a drink of water. But as I tried to go back to sleep, the light was on for a little too long and when I sat up in bed, I saw that in fact the light on top of my piano was on. The light itself isn’t a switch but there’s a small bulb at the base that you touch and hold down for half a second or so and the light will turn on.
This isn’t the first time the light’s turned on by itself overnight. The first time it happened, my mother swore some sort of spirit or ghost or something turned it on. This time, she simply dismissed it as my cat having clambered up my piano and touched it. However, my kitty doesn’t climb up on my piano (or at least I haven’t seen her do it) and for her to specifically touch the bulb… I don’t really buy it. I also wondered whether or not she could even turn the lamp on with her paws so I experimented and made her touch it and yeah, it worked so I suppose it is still possible. I’m still doubtful though.
That night, as I tried to go back to sleep, thinking that there might be some sort of spirit in our living room, I eventually came up with an idea for a short film about a ghost trying to play the piano but being unable to open the lid of the piano. There are some other details as well that I’ve thought of and I wrote it all down but it’s still in the works. It would be really simple to make though, and I’m excited about the possibility of actually turning it into film, especially since it only involves one room and very few characters, all set at night (which might be hard…), etc. We shall see.
When I looked back on it, I guess I found it a little surprising I was able to take away something like an idea for a short film at 5 in the morning just by seeing that the lamp on my piano was turned on. Inspiration is out there! You just gotta look for it.
Synopsis: It’s the end of Brokeback Mountain meets Ghost (as Xtra West accurately put it). A married and soon-to-be father fisherman in a Peruvian town deals with the loss of his lover who comes back as a ghost (and not the creepy, scary kind).
Super awesome things: The fantasy aspect of Undertow is what grabbed and hooked me first. When Santiago, Miguel’s lover, appears at his house and tells him, “I was in the ocean… the undercurrent got me…” I think it’s safe to say everyone’s attention to the film jumped up significantly. It’s such a twist in plot — because during the first 20 minutes of the film, it seems to be about Miguel’s secret affair with Santiago and how he’ll deal with his loss when Santiago moves away — but it becomes much, much more than that. Sure, Santiago dies, but he doesn’t really die: he only is visible to Miguel, and only when Miguel thinks of him or calls out for him. Miguel believes the only way to get his spirit at rest is to perform a traditional Peruvian funeral, complete with releasing the body into the ocean. The conflict here develops naturally — the more time he spends with Santiago, the more they fall in love (again), and the harder it is for him to let Santiago go, especially when he does come across his body. Also in conflict is their whole secret affair, and when rumours start to fly that the mysterious painter (Santiago) has artwork of naked Miguel in his house, Miguel’s life is shattered. Complete with heart-wrenching performances, particularly from Cristian Mercado who plays Miguel, as well as excellent supporting performances from Tatiana Astengo, Miguel’s wife, and Manolo Cardona as the fisherman’s ghostly lover.
There is stunning cinematography of beaches, waves, and the ocean (of course). But perhaps most interesting, at least to me, was the fantastic use of music in the film. I’ve read from various places that the best film music is when you don’t notice, and in Undertow, I barely noticed. It’s very subtle and has the perfect combination of coming in the right parts and of course fitting exactly with what’s happening on-screen. And the ending, though very sad, was the right ending and fit perfectly.
Not so super awesome things: Though not entirely needed, the film doesn’t explain why Miguel is the only one who can see Santiago, nor if any other spirits are also trapped on the island. I also really wanted to see if Santiago would show up on the photos they took together! Gah. That’s just me being picky though because I don’t have much criticism for this film. I guess I would’ve liked to really be shown just how much Miguel loves Santiago, even though he tells Tiago that he’s a “man” and that he’s macho, so of course he can’t be gay. We do get him crying, which is nice but… well, I guess that fits in with his character. I just debated with myself and lost. Never mind.
Good for watching: if you want to believe that not all ghosts are evil and scary but super hot and you can have sex with them and no one will see.
Overall: Very well done, and most likely the best and my favourite film out of this year’s Queer Film Festival. I really hope writer/director Javier Fuentes-León goes far with this, and judging its good reception at Sundance, I think he just might.
The original short story which was then adapted into On the Bus, which was produced and filmed in my last term at Vancouver Film School. (the video at the bottom) There are clear differences between the short story and the film. Which do you like better?
I wrote this story back in high school after a similar experience I had. I won’t go into the details right now but if you’re wondering, I don’t converse with ghosts anymore.
Conversations With a Ghost
I sit there, dumbly, my mind pushing itself to think of an answer. Who should I ask out? I had only a few more days ’till the bet was up with my friend.
“You could ask me.” I recognize that voice. It’s him again, sitting across from me, wearing what I last saw him wear; a baseball cap turned backwards, a casual sweatshirt and jeans, topped off with glasses that actually make him look semi-smart.
“Why would I do that?” My voice shows a possible foreshadowing of anger.
“Because you like me. You’ve always liked me, since the moment you saw me.” He smiles, which I interpret to be an evil smile, and tilts his head slightly to one side.
“Yeah, so what? I’m scared. I’m scared that you’ll reject me. Why in hell would anyone want that?” The anger is rising.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How? What’s this based on?”
“On the fact that most times when I happen to see you in the halls, some slut is hanging off of you, like a dead animal.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. We’re just friends.”
“Oh, I’ve heard that before.”
“Did you ever stop to think that it might be true? Why would I lie to you?”
“Oh, I don’t know; because you keep breaking my heart, dammit! You’re the only guy I haven’t ever really gotten over.”
“I’m sorry about that. I can’t help that I’m so good looking.”
“Shut up. That’s not helping.”
“What do you want me to say? ‘Oh Jeremy, I’ve been in love with you too and I’ve been waiting 4 years for you to tell me! Let’s get married and ride off into the sunset!'” He laughs (loudly, I might add). I silently fume to myself.
“You have no idea what it’s like when you see someone you love and know you won’t ever end up with them, but you still want them to be with you. You have no idea how sad I am when I see you, the only boy I’ve ever really fallen in love with. You just don’t get it do you?” By this time, depression has replaced my rage.
He leans forward in his seat, closing the gap between our faces. The complexion on his face is hard to read. I expect him to say something comforting.
“Why are you doing this to yourself, Jeremy? You say you like me and stuff but you’re too scared to talk to me because you’re afraid I’ll reject you. What have you got to lose by talking to me?”
“Everything, including my life.”
“You know what the most pitiable part of this whole thing is?” He leans back against the seat, his arm draped across the adjacent seat, trying to look laid-back. I already know what he’s going to do and begin to brace for the worst.
“The saddest thing about this is that you have to make me up to talk to you. I’m part of your stupid little fantasy. You make me say whatever you want to make you feel better…
“Shut up. Stop it now.”
“…and it works, yet when the real me comes strolling along, you might as well have jumped in a ditch or something…
“Shut up right now. I mean it, Sean.”
“…because you’re just too shy to talk to me. Now that is just sad.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know me!”
“Oh, I know you alright. But do you wanna know something really pathetic?”
At this point, I can’t even talk anymore.
“No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you are never ever going to get over me. Never.” He smiles that evil smile again. I hate that one.
I’ve had enough of this charade.
“Stop it! Go away! Leave me alone!” I shut my eyes tightly.
For a few seconds, I don’t hear anymore from him. When I open my eyes, a fat woman in an ugly pink muumuu is sitting in his seat. I can feel her studying me, which makes me feel like a lab rat.
“Are you okay, dearie?” She pulls out a small tissue from her matching ugly purse. It is not until now that I feel the warm streaks of tears on my face. I had been crying, during my own fantasy where I was in control, or at least thought I was.
I tell her I am fine and take the delicate paper from her to wipe my eyes.
“I remember when I was in high school, so many memories…” her voice continues.
Stop talking to me! And get some new clothes while you’re at it! my mind screams.
“…and bad ones, too. I don’t think I’ll ever get over those ones…”
I glance up at her, my entire body in shock. Her face slowly morphs into Sean’s as they both finish the last word simultaneously: “Never.”
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