Cine-Hopping
Noel and I toured some of those antiquated movie theaters along Aurora Boulevard Wednesday night to check out the gay cruising that goes on there. We first went to this moviehouse Noel had been to once before. He couldn't remember the name but he remembers how it looked: it had two adjacent escalators right at the entrance lobby. We got there, but a sign outside read: Closed For Renovation. "Na-raid," Noel declares.
This theatre called Remar showed current Pinoy films, but damn, the theatre looked anything but current. Noel and I were analyzing its architecture and trying to figure out from which era the building was erected. With all these shady characters lurking around us, there we were pondering the rounded corners and spiral staircase. Such intellectual snobs we are. It had one of the weirdest interiors I've ever seen for a movie house: Like a rectangular ballroom with two narrow balcony sections on opposite sides looking down on the rest of the room. Noel said it looked like an 18th century Eastern European design and probably the hideout of Dracula's minions. Really atmospheric. I could imagine the place as once a venue for a truly degenerate, cultist orgy. We were both afraid to sit down, unsure of what disease we might catch. The screen wasn't in the correct ratio; it was square like a TV. There was a drinking fountain in the lobby, and Noel was so amazed that people were casually drinking from it, unmindful of the stench from the comfort room. We got bored and split.
The next one was a place called Diamond that featured double bills of dated B-movie action or erotica. It originally had four theaters (structured like a diamond, observed Noel), but only two were functional. The one at the ground floor smelled like a big toilet, and had two snoopy old-lady look-outs, so we moved to the topmost theatre, four flights up. Another weird one that was. Like a cave, according to Noel. You can touch the ceiling, which slanted diagonally, and in some parts, you'd have to stoop. The floor creaked. The seats squeaked. The projector (very old-looking; I couldn't read the blurred inscription) was on the left side, so the screen was slightly angled to the left. And most of all, there was lots of cruising going on inside that cave.
This large man approached me and asked if I was for hire. "Nagpapabayad ka?" I avoided him. Somehow, the night's mood wasn't for money-making. Besides, it was a scary way to get picked up. He offered 300 pesos. I declined. It was cheap but standard. Looking around the place, I figured no one there pays that much to blow someone. The guy found ways to sneak up on me a couple more times, until he was offering 500 pesos. "Type talaga kita," said the guy. "Hindi ko ginagawa yon," I said, but that didn't seem to stop him. Noel watched over me, wherever I stood or sat. He was being the protective friend. He was convinced I could get gang-raped in a place like that. "Pagtutulungan ka," he said. When I go to the CR, he'd just be outside so he'd hear me when I cry "Rape!" Hehe. A scary thought. None of the cruisers were interesting or good-looking enough, though. Surprisingly, some people were there to actually watch the movie, something called "Naked Lies" or some other such title, back to back with "Blindfold." We overheard a couple of ladies talk about the "magandang script" just before the credits rolled. Most of the audience were men, though. Noel witnessed some guy give head to another guy. Too bad I didn't. We hung around till the theatre closed. We stared over a wide view of Cubao by the fire exit, and we talked about what a dirty city it was -- literally and figuratively. Noel said Cubao needs an urban renewal. He said all the buildings must be demolished and a new city built. I instantly pictured the millions of rats that would be scampering, suddenly homeless.
Old Movie Theatre: Brit Style. The Astoria, Brixton, 1929
I have this sick, hidden, romantic sentiment for dirty cities, though. I can't explain it. Manila to me is extremely sexy. Cubao, almost, but not quite. I tell Noel I couldn't support something as drastic as destroying an entire city because I'd miss the old architecture.
We walked the dead Cubao streets, drinking take-out coffee. Two for 25 pesos. We were both tired, and we hoped to pick up a callboy so we can check in a motelroom and pay the callboy to literally sleep with us. We didn't find any, though. This guy called Robert or Roman was too pretty for Noel's tastes. I thought he was quite handsome. Noel asked a cigeratte vendor where we could get someone to pick up. Only later did we realize that the vendor misunderstood and thought we were looking for chicks. He said, "Meron dito kanina, malaking joga." The setbacks of looking straight. For a sex-free night, it was loads of fun.
This theatre called Remar showed current Pinoy films, but damn, the theatre looked anything but current. Noel and I were analyzing its architecture and trying to figure out from which era the building was erected. With all these shady characters lurking around us, there we were pondering the rounded corners and spiral staircase. Such intellectual snobs we are. It had one of the weirdest interiors I've ever seen for a movie house: Like a rectangular ballroom with two narrow balcony sections on opposite sides looking down on the rest of the room. Noel said it looked like an 18th century Eastern European design and probably the hideout of Dracula's minions. Really atmospheric. I could imagine the place as once a venue for a truly degenerate, cultist orgy. We were both afraid to sit down, unsure of what disease we might catch. The screen wasn't in the correct ratio; it was square like a TV. There was a drinking fountain in the lobby, and Noel was so amazed that people were casually drinking from it, unmindful of the stench from the comfort room. We got bored and split.
The next one was a place called Diamond that featured double bills of dated B-movie action or erotica. It originally had four theaters (structured like a diamond, observed Noel), but only two were functional. The one at the ground floor smelled like a big toilet, and had two snoopy old-lady look-outs, so we moved to the topmost theatre, four flights up. Another weird one that was. Like a cave, according to Noel. You can touch the ceiling, which slanted diagonally, and in some parts, you'd have to stoop. The floor creaked. The seats squeaked. The projector (very old-looking; I couldn't read the blurred inscription) was on the left side, so the screen was slightly angled to the left. And most of all, there was lots of cruising going on inside that cave.
This large man approached me and asked if I was for hire. "Nagpapabayad ka?" I avoided him. Somehow, the night's mood wasn't for money-making. Besides, it was a scary way to get picked up. He offered 300 pesos. I declined. It was cheap but standard. Looking around the place, I figured no one there pays that much to blow someone. The guy found ways to sneak up on me a couple more times, until he was offering 500 pesos. "Type talaga kita," said the guy. "Hindi ko ginagawa yon," I said, but that didn't seem to stop him. Noel watched over me, wherever I stood or sat. He was being the protective friend. He was convinced I could get gang-raped in a place like that. "Pagtutulungan ka," he said. When I go to the CR, he'd just be outside so he'd hear me when I cry "Rape!" Hehe. A scary thought. None of the cruisers were interesting or good-looking enough, though. Surprisingly, some people were there to actually watch the movie, something called "Naked Lies" or some other such title, back to back with "Blindfold." We overheard a couple of ladies talk about the "magandang script" just before the credits rolled. Most of the audience were men, though. Noel witnessed some guy give head to another guy. Too bad I didn't. We hung around till the theatre closed. We stared over a wide view of Cubao by the fire exit, and we talked about what a dirty city it was -- literally and figuratively. Noel said Cubao needs an urban renewal. He said all the buildings must be demolished and a new city built. I instantly pictured the millions of rats that would be scampering, suddenly homeless.
Old Movie Theatre: Brit Style. The Astoria, Brixton, 1929
I have this sick, hidden, romantic sentiment for dirty cities, though. I can't explain it. Manila to me is extremely sexy. Cubao, almost, but not quite. I tell Noel I couldn't support something as drastic as destroying an entire city because I'd miss the old architecture.
We walked the dead Cubao streets, drinking take-out coffee. Two for 25 pesos. We were both tired, and we hoped to pick up a callboy so we can check in a motelroom and pay the callboy to literally sleep with us. We didn't find any, though. This guy called Robert or Roman was too pretty for Noel's tastes. I thought he was quite handsome. Noel asked a cigeratte vendor where we could get someone to pick up. Only later did we realize that the vendor misunderstood and thought we were looking for chicks. He said, "Meron dito kanina, malaking joga." The setbacks of looking straight. For a sex-free night, it was loads of fun.