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Friday the 10th

Rays ran through one of the openings draped with ropes bound together and rested on a pew with a woman in tears; A common sight in these times.

Like most people, we sat, on one of the rows inside the vertical base, waiting.

The length of the communion queue, later, would tell of people’s preparedness as they had all the chances to confess—a kind that is humiliatingly detailed, otherwise, a spiritual confessor will not be able to fully absolve that which is intentionally hidden, to avoid shame.

With the sun up at three hours past noon, the altar was needlessly illuminated with yellow light and red spark resting on a few column heads…where two winged angels in loose conservative garments meet to blow on silent trumpets; Below, a monk and a scantily dressed man, all in fiber glass, kneel at the sides.

The Blessed Sacrament is out of the central tabernacle and has been moved to the right receptacle where selected white and yellow flowers surround.

The windows brightly define the painted mysteries of the rosary—its centuries-old secret is carefully protected in Montfort’s treatise but woe to those who irresponsibly uncover it, without heeding carefully to a preceding warning and allow the seed to wither in their hands because it poisons the soul. Tell me Louis Marie, why are some divine secret better left undisclosed to the unprepared?

The short horizontal part of the structure, perpendicular to the base, has two windows each inspired by an evangelist.

At its center is an elevated dome, wide and white, where they were to lay the crucified Christ right under…as if God is saying again, “this is my beloved Son…”

On the aisle, the ministers at the strike of four marched towards the altar passing by statues covered with cloths in shades of purple and fourteen other decorative windows showing the Stations of the Cross…

As the concelebrant in front and the choir at our rear delivered the readings inclusive of sound effects as swords clashing…and varied musical scores, we recalled the people who welcomed the Messiah with palms on the first day of the week to be the same people who had him crucified by Friday of that same week…

Slowly then they unveiled the red covers of the crucifixes as people alternately knelt and stood up. Men were called out to fall in line first for the Adoration…

We exited from where two tablets lie: on the left contained the first three commandments summarized by Jesus to be the first of two greatest commandments—love God above all; and on the right, the remaining seven of the Decalogue summarized by him to fall under the second greatest commandment—love thy neighbor.

Frankincense—one of the gifts of the magi, was still burning as we left three hours later.

A little informed pilgrimage compared to the temple where I threw a set of stones to see if the answer to my wish and/or question is yes, no or maybe. There their beautiful but nameless statues draw either curiosity or indifference to a tourist who is ignorant of the faith they profess.

Bonds

On my 16th birthday, a pen pal sent me a gold ring while another friend apologized that it was not as expensive an ornament, most contributed to distribute a band to all as it was the fad and another apologized for not being able to afford a gift at all. I said thank you and that for sure I will be putting them all on to show appreciation of their thoughtfulness and as for those without gifts, it did not matter, quoted a line from a church song “Persons are gifts.” As for jewelry, fancy or real, it serves the intention for which the wearer wears it for. Some would rather be adorned by what’s fancy because there’s an affordable variety to choose from and when it dulls, it can be discarded and replaced; although some are better at keeping and re-using them because these can be re-polished to look like new with chemical. Some choose to wear only what’s real although it hurts the pocket as long as it does not cause skin irritation. Some have simply the money to burn or want to build up a social status. Some prefer both for art’s sake because whether they are of plastic, of semi-precious stones, of gold, of silver, of alloy, of rod, of bones, of thread—they are of the earth or of the craftsmanship of men.

Like friendship, there’s a variety to choose from. When it dulls, then good riddance. If you enjoy the company, you can either influence them and appreciate them as they shine. Some prefer to be with birds of the same feather, say mingle if they are from the same profession or if they are as rich as the chooser. Some choose from a distinct few and treasure their rare finds or get hurt by their own set of choices. Some enjoy the company of all sorts because each one is as valuable and as unique as the other.

Today, the ring is lost, some bands are stuck on the scrapbook, while some friends have either gone, stayed, found or discovered but I still carry the memory of a variety that kept my life vibrant, of the cherished cliques that get together for the same likes, of the acquaintances of different color, faith, of different upbringing and POV’s, of families–either with strong ties or broken, who by destiny or by choice just had to be there to serve a purpose.

To Be or Not To Be

Much as I would have wanted to read Shakespeare’s Hamlet for which the library has a copy of, I did not have the concentration to absorb anything other than the words that say “Enter” such and such nor was I able read any soft copy of the summary of the play or at least, a movie review. For the lack of time, guided only by a faint memory of a comic book on Hamlet which I read at leisure in high school and all these excuses, this reaction, I contend, is free from the biases of others’ opinions. I hope not too absurd an opinion. =D

Although the intro to the movie is positively biased to its creator, I was expectant of its promises as a viewer. True enough, it’s a well lit cinematography and very crisp are the lines delivered by the actors. Well lit even during the love scenes. The movie, as Shakespeare had wanted his plays to be—delivered and listened to, rather than silently read by the public, is a success as it rekindled in me an admiration of the language of long ago with all its hath’s and thou’s. Kenneth Branagh, director and actor, is some sort of a reincarnation of Shakespeare—playwright and actor to his own plays. As the poet extols his poetry and the playwright glorifies his play, the director lauds his movie as something that will be remembered for centuries. It is a wonder why so many forms emerge from the classics. Well, great is a person or a poet or a director if he can make another great person…out of you, eh? The movie is not just “another dull record,” I agree with him. It is so beautiful that I fear this kind of technology so pleasing to the senses may render the teacher less competitive to sustain the same attention of his students. On second thought, our traditional classroom and required outside readings, no matter how minimal, of say Edgar Allan Poe’s prose and Alexander Pope’s Rape of the Lock were vital not just towards being amazed of the sonority but nevertheless thankful to be able to comprehend the most if not all of it. If not for all those who loved and wrote analyses of the classics or made movies such as this, we are guided to make Shakespeare not anymore too difficult a reading material.

With extra Robin Williams articulating the word carriage both with a ruling colonizer’s /carry-YAHZH/ accent and its American variant, /CARE-ridge/, the major cast tried to present it with a touch of England (mentioned as a place where Hamlet will be exiled) which Shakespeare hails from though different a setting, Denmark.

 

 The best advice I hear is from Laertes’ father: Be quick to lend your ears but not as quick to judge anyone. Have I heard of this advice, last week would not have been disastrous. I just learned—how’s that?, even if asked for the truth, some people would prefer it to be with the sugar coat or they cuss you for being so blunt.

 The best of the “hired actors” for me is the one who delivers a piece that has Hamlet thinking what’s so moving of the character he portrays that he has to shed tears. I admired his direction (and probably being the traveling actors they are, they have been used to it) seeing the costumed king and queen engrossed with their lines as if it’s a real event with only the two of them speaking sans an audience. That must be why they give specs during a play for us to better appreciate them up close and Hamlet must climb up the stage to see King Claudius’ reaction to the play that aimed to capture his conscience. As for Queen Gertrude reaction “speak no more” for Hamlet’s words have pierced her for falling to her carnal appetite—an incestuous remarrying of the brother, of her husband two months only after the latter’s death, now unmasked as a murderer. Here we see the love of people, in the past, of re-watching anything they may have already seen or heard or read. Hamlet is questioned the title of the play and he names the adaptation The Murder of Gonzago. It holds true to this day.

The soft blue eyes of Hamlet’s uncle do not make a convincing antagonist, too sincere a face to be revealed in bad light. He is effectively casted in to create a doubt—because he is also a Christian, as to whether the attacks against his character are real, mere delusions of a son who lost a father or an interplay with a devil in disguise, for those who have no awareness of the plot. He makes himself fully developed as a villain in part two.

I envy Hamlet for the faithful friends he has. He asks two if they, not to their own bidding, are sent by his mother on account of helping out what seemed to be an insanity of his to the public and they let him hear the truth. Horatio as he advices Hamlet that if there is any inner hesitation about the king’s invitation, he should not go, is also ready to consume the poison but Hamlet stops him so their tragedy can be told. For those friends who have sworn, re-sworn and kept their oath by virtue of a ghost they see but will speak only to Hamlet. For Laertes though expressively apprehensive of Hamlet’s sincerity towards his sister, without that prior bond, he will not realize that Hamlet is not totally to blame for his father’s death. As for me I prefer now to introspect in order to evaluate if I can trust myself then I will do or if not then I will not…for even a brother can kill his own brother like what Hamlet’s uncle has done. The movie unfolds this beautiful tragedy that evokes many thoughts.

There is catharsis from the thought of murdering someone to its commission. Hamlet stops himself from running a sword through the ear of the new king to avenge his father’s death with a beautiful question—why let an unworthy king merit the purging of his soul if Hamlet justifies to take an ear for an ear, or a life for a life, when the king is to be damned for his crime; but Hamlet kills Polonius instead, thinking it is the same king. The plot has a Christian theme in this sense—conscience, afterlife, punishment, hell. Polonius death, I assume, is also brought about by his speculation, over protectiveness of his children and loyalty to his employer, the legitimate ruler.

The movie concludes with death begetting death. It is a happy death for me because the issue will rest both on the souls of those worthy to die and those who have forgiven each other before their final breaths. I find no better music than the Latin requiem chosen to be the background as the movie runs down all the acknowledgment behind its creation. I feel for Ophelia’s brother who cannot demand additional burial respects because the drowning of his sister, who though has lost her wits, is believed to have been willfully committed by her.

I like the skepticism which seems to be the revolving theme of the movie. Hamlet thinks either the apparition is hellish or real. A father thinks it is either for Hamlet’s love of his daughter or the death of his father that has caused his melancholia. Gertrude gives room for doubt if the murder of her king is real when she asks who Hamlet’s invisible friend is. The lovers both love and doubt if either of them is true to each other. And so on…Funny, I can relate to the command “go to a nunnery.”

I like the title of respect “my lord” one affords to a king, a parent, a senior or an honorable man as well as the respect and disrespect for the dead. I see the adoration of a sweet prince who remembers his jester as he holds her skull. Yet, I see the concealment of royal odor. Hamlet kills his girlfriend’s father, a chamberlain, but the entire kingdom does not know anything of it including the immediate family of the bereaved.

In his sporty duel with Laertes, he begs forgiveness before the swordfight. The prince is philosophical and sincere in his manner, not just at that moment he chooses to be than not to be. That is to be honest to his actions, its effect and his expression of remorse.

Then you have the premonition and the readiness for death as Hamlet says there is “special providence in the fall of the sparrow.” If not now, it will come. Death is not a new and surprising topic in Shakespeare’s works. I hope that I too will be ready and not be in a situation like old King Hamlet who has to suffer for sins committed and not given the time to atone for them because of his murder.

There is humor when Young Fortinbras, prince of Norway, sieges to reclaim a kingdom without effort “sorrowfully” claiming all that is to be his because the crown-bearer and bloodline to the throne are all extinguished.

If I have to rate the movie reducing my words of a thousand and six hundred which I find falling short to fully critique a three-hour movie in this paper; from one to five, I definitely give this a high five. The first time in history for me to do so and I am not taking it back.