The Grand Inventory Day

I've always had a penchant for storing keepsakes, causing my red-and-blue box of memories to overflow for years now. Throughout high school, it's been filled with mementos–those craft-ish letters and cards high school students can't seem to get enough of (the more it deviates from the traditional sheet-of-paper-inside-an-envelope format, the better), flower petals, charms, puzzle pieces, scribbled-on table napkins, flyers, notes inside small bottle jars and nets, graduation pictures.

Even as I entered college, my collection of mementos grew. Class cards (before they slipped away from the computerized registration consciousness), ID's, letters I didn't think would exist in college, receipts, doodles by seatmates while waiting for professors, paper wrappers of gifts, bottle caps from night-outs I deemed must not be forgotten, personalized coaster. 

Additionally, my planners for the past few years serve dual purpose. One is to keep me on track of dates, another is to be a place where I keep my stash of seemingly pointless souvenirs–movie tickets, theater tickets, concert tickets, bus tickets, Form 5's, community tax certificates, library cards, loyalty cards, business cards, disembodied journal pages...

Not only is this habit limited to tangible things. Often, I even plan my online presence (and the posts I make) with the goal of making sure that I will be able to look back at it, sometime in the future.

It this this as yet undefined time of finally unearthing the contents of the chock-full containers that prompts me to stash away fragments of evidences of a life in progress–evidences proving to myself that this present time happened, that I've been in this place with these people, that I heard this with my own ears, that I witnessed this happen, that at one point, I felt and underwent things I wouldn't have had I not stepped up, had I not dared. 

It's not so much as clinging to the past as assuring myself that my future self will be reminded that I filled up my years with good company and good (and not-always-good) experiences. I know an absurd amount of keepsakes doesn't determine a good life lived, but for now, it is my assurance. 

Until that day that I find the time to sit down and go over each bit of memory I've collected, or until I find the confidence that I am enough a proof of a fulfilled existence, I will count on the little things I tuck away that remind me of what was and will be. 

The Adventures of the Pie-Maker and His Friends

Pushing Daisies (Season 1, 2007)

© 2007/ ABC / The Jinks/ Cohen Company/ Living Dead Guy Productions/ Pushing Daisies Show Partners

I have been meaning to watch Pushing Daisies because I've learned that it was written and created by Bryan Fuller, the writer whose genius is manifested in the recently concluded first season of NBC's Hannibal. What prompted it to jump up to the top of my priority list is learning that Lee Pace is the lead of the show, where he plays Ned the Pie-Maker.

The series revolves around Ned's ability to bring dead things back to life for a minute without any repercussions. Any second longer than that, something or someone else has to die. His first touch brings life, and the second touch brings death again, permanently. With an affinity for baking that he got from his mother, Ned grows up to become the owner of The Pie Hole, with the help of his waitress who harbors affection for him, Olive Snook (Kristin Chenoweth). Accidentally learning of Ned's ability to bring the dead back to life, private investigator Emerson Cod (Chi McBride) suggests a partnership where Cod finds murder victims whose deaths Ned will solve using his special gift, and the reward money split between the two of them. Things have fallen into a routine when one day Ned learns of the murder of his childhood sweetheart, Charlotte "Chuck" Charles (Anna Friel). Remembering the young girl he used to know from his hometown of "Couer d'Couers," Ned makes a choice concerning Chuck's life and death, the consequences of which will turn his and his friend's worlds upside down.

Quirky, funny, exciting and heartwarming when it wants to, Pushing Daisies is an enjoyable series disarming viewers with its colorful visual style, snappy dialogues, clever wordplay, likable characters, and intriguing overall scheme of "forensic fairy tale." Indeed, this show is a refreshing kind of comedy, with drama and romance on the side, and the amazing cast managed to capture the larger than life premise of the show as well as the endearing personal connections between the characters. Ned and Chuck are a delight to watch, especially when facing the unusual nuances of their relationship. I also like how Olive and Chuck were not put against each other as typical vicious rivals over a man, and that their characters, especially Olive's, did not fall into shallow stereotypes. 

I've yet to see the whole of the second season but I'm saddened all over that it got cancelled so abruptly. I really wish the Pushing Daisies Movie Bryan Fuller talks about will come into fruition soon. It will be amazing to see Ned, Chuck, Emerson, Olive, as well as Aunts Lily and Vivian again, and wrap the story up as splendidly as it had begun.

Besides, Ned the Pie-Maker gives me life right now. (See what I did there. Haha.)

Strange Pair

The Fall (2006)

Like Alexandria, played by Catinca Untaru, I stumbled upon The Fall by curiosity, and ended up being captivated by and emotionally-invested on it, so easily and so deeply. Just as Alexandria became awed with Roy Walker's storytelling, played by Lee Pace, I became drawn by this 2006 epic adventure concocted by Tarsem Singh. 

Set in the 1920s in a hospital somewhere in Los Angeles, Alexandria, a highly-spirited five year-old, meets Roy Walker, a stunt man injured from his first foray in the movies. Wanting nothing more than hearing an interesting tale to feed her imagination during her stay while her arm mends, Alexandria befriends Roy. Listening to Roy, Alexandria dreams up a fantasy of revenge, courage, sacrifice, and ultimately, love. The characters they create travel through the world, braving dangers, and motivated by a common goal: to defeat the villain, Governor Odious. With dazzling landscapes as backdrop and elaborate costumes, the world of the Masked Bandit and his companions is indeed like every child's dream.

© 2006 Googly Films / TARSEM/ The Fall Film Partners

And like every child's dream, the film is ambitious, biased, disjointed, sentimental, and charming. Although it was Roy who is telling the story, it is Alexandria's utter fascination that propels the story forward, and it is evident in the way the plot unfolded and showed. With its expansive scenery shot in around 20 countries, its stunning cinematography and musical score, the film is a visual spectacle. 

But for all of The Fall's grandiosity, the most tender and beautiful moments took place in the confines of the hospital, between Alexandria and Roy. The biggest draw for me was the relationship of the two leads. Pace and Untaru connected and it simply showed. Six year-old Untaru's endearing innocence paired with Pace's stellar portrayal of Roy Walker's shattering resolve in life makes for the most personal and heartwarming scenes I've watched in ages, especially after learning that practically all of Catinca's hospital lines were as real and unscripted as can be.

Virtually every frame in The Fall is mesmerizing, and Tarsem is indeed an auteur for not allowing any aspect to be compromised for a film as big this. The film's one defining trait is its telling of two intertwined stories, one so incredibly fantastic that pushed the possibilities of film-making, the other so deeply human and personal, and would never have worked had Pace and Untaru failed to establish that special authentic connection. 

Tarsem managed to capture these and translate them into the screen. Indeed, The Fall is an apt tribute to the flickers that Roy made and Alexandria loved.  

Words are all we have

You lean towards despair
Any given opportunity you're there
But what is there to gain?
When you're always falling off the fence that way.

— Bastille, Overjoyed