It is Trisha, Popoy’s rebound girlfriend who delivers the most achingly clever drama on cult movie “One More Chance”. With a light-speckled nightline and mundane dinner date as backdrop, she asks Popoy, “Mahal mo ba ako?” (Do you love me?) Popoy says yes, clueless about what’s eating away at her.
He answers the next question, “Mahal mo ba pa sya?” (Do you still love her), with a rhetorical, “Hindi ko kayang makita kang nasasaktan.” (I cannot bear to see you hurt.) Short silence. Then Trisha softly caresses his eyelids shut, saying, “Para kung masaktan man ako hindi mo makita.” (So if I get hurt, you won’t see.) And walks away.
That break up dialogue is as poignant as it gets; conflicted and exasperating, subtle and blunt. It’s an important lesson from a movie that sold heartbreak. If the whole point of “One More Chance” is to show you have to take chances with love, this subplot teaches you have to close a door when it does not lead somewhere.
No one really expects the leading man to end up with someone other than the leading lady; oh heaven forbid, not in a John Lloyd and Bea film. The story makes the issue clear at the outset. When love ends, how long should you hold on? (For John Lloyd and Bea, forever!) For the stars Basha and Popoy, whose lives were too intricately tied up together, the answer is: for life. But for Trisha and Popoy, lovers who tried to make it work when he was at his worst, it is: as soon as possible.
Trisha as a character was someone necessary in the movie, but altogether generic; she could have been Julie or Cindy or Kim. She was a meantime girl, the one who sticks around and helps tide over the bad days, the one who is conveniently there. By all indications, Popoy barely made an effort to “catch” Trisha. He alternately moped and partied away in bars where he met her, a musician, who in turn either mothered or romanced him depending on his mood.
From either point of view, it was over from the very beginning. He was an emotional wreck, she had artisitic temperament; he was needy; she had booked too many gigs. Moreover, as premised from the first 30 minutes of exposition, he was, in a figurative sense of the word, unavailable.
The film does not show what happens to Trisha after she defeatedly strolls out of the scene. So, whatever she wanted to say, rant, or rage about, is left to wild imagination. I like to believe that Trisha moved on to become a better artist, better lover, better person. She loved Popoy and wanted him happy, asking nothing in return. But she made one of the most depressing realizations anyone can ever make: she cannot make him truly happy, she cannot unbreak his heart.
Many women fall for men who go around wounded and tragic; maybe they relish a challenge, maybe they like the torture to feel human. I can imagine it’s supremely satisfying to win someone over completely, unreservedly, irrevocably . Yet Trisha refused to be lulled by that heady possibility and made an early judgement call. She knew it would never come to that day, for her and Popoy. She needed no explanation nor affirmation; she just knew could not make him forget.
“You won’t let me do it”, she says unaccusingly. Thus ends a chapter, with simple emotions and plain logic. There’s a certain wistfulness, and a sentiment that she should have fought a little bit more. But it shouldn’t take a short dialectical exercise to arrive at the same conclusion. Trisha tellingly uses “won’t” not “can’t”, to spell the difference between will and ability. Popoy is broken not because he’s apart from Basha; he’s incomplete because he made himself so. To heal, he needs to come to terms with his own hurt and pain.
Still, Trisha is not quite the dejected girl she’s painted out, at first blush, to be. I think she’s a strong woman who knew she wanted a relationship with someone who was whole, contented with himself. She’s one who decided to wade off from the waters, even if the waves weren’t beating her down anymore. She’s one who chose not to blindly believe in a pledge, but instead deduced the future from the present. She with a fair eye for all weighed her options in seven words: it is worth it in the end? After all, as in everything, the only one you can control here is yourself.
No one wants to be in a situation like Trisha’s, one fraught with so much uncertainty and volatility. Anything about love tests a person’s self-worth and tolerance for pain and compromise. It’s always easy to over-emotionalize and under-intellectualize, and vise versa. It’s even easier to just go crazy and escape. If life were like the movies, it’d be as simple as stepping off the camera. But in real life it takes a lot of time and courage, an obliging set of confidants, and a sprinkling of sage advice.
Now that it’s February, it’s the time to bring out the memories and brush off the labels on all who walked through the heart: the love of your life, ultimate love, soulmate, the one that got away, the one who could have been , and – of course, the mythical – “The One”. Lest the world begrudge it, to those who made that bold, courageous, dignified, heartbreaking decision to stand up and leave, happy valentine’s day. May you have all the happiness you deserve.
This version with edits. Original published on The Philippine Online Chronicles http://thepoc.net/poc-presents/20076-lessons-from-the-heartbreak-club-root-for-the-one-who-walked-away
Image courtesy of http://popoyandbasha.tumblr.com/
He answers the next question, “Mahal mo ba pa sya?” (Do you still love her), with a rhetorical, “Hindi ko kayang makita kang nasasaktan.” (I cannot bear to see you hurt.) Short silence. Then Trisha softly caresses his eyelids shut, saying, “Para kung masaktan man ako hindi mo makita.” (So if I get hurt, you won’t see.) And walks away.
That break up dialogue is as poignant as it gets; conflicted and exasperating, subtle and blunt. It’s an important lesson from a movie that sold heartbreak. If the whole point of “One More Chance” is to show you have to take chances with love, this subplot teaches you have to close a door when it does not lead somewhere.
No one really expects the leading man to end up with someone other than the leading lady; oh heaven forbid, not in a John Lloyd and Bea film. The story makes the issue clear at the outset. When love ends, how long should you hold on? (For John Lloyd and Bea, forever!) For the stars Basha and Popoy, whose lives were too intricately tied up together, the answer is: for life. But for Trisha and Popoy, lovers who tried to make it work when he was at his worst, it is: as soon as possible.
Trisha as a character was someone necessary in the movie, but altogether generic; she could have been Julie or Cindy or Kim. She was a meantime girl, the one who sticks around and helps tide over the bad days, the one who is conveniently there. By all indications, Popoy barely made an effort to “catch” Trisha. He alternately moped and partied away in bars where he met her, a musician, who in turn either mothered or romanced him depending on his mood.
From either point of view, it was over from the very beginning. He was an emotional wreck, she had artisitic temperament; he was needy; she had booked too many gigs. Moreover, as premised from the first 30 minutes of exposition, he was, in a figurative sense of the word, unavailable.
The film does not show what happens to Trisha after she defeatedly strolls out of the scene. So, whatever she wanted to say, rant, or rage about, is left to wild imagination. I like to believe that Trisha moved on to become a better artist, better lover, better person. She loved Popoy and wanted him happy, asking nothing in return. But she made one of the most depressing realizations anyone can ever make: she cannot make him truly happy, she cannot unbreak his heart.
Many women fall for men who go around wounded and tragic; maybe they relish a challenge, maybe they like the torture to feel human. I can imagine it’s supremely satisfying to win someone over completely, unreservedly, irrevocably . Yet Trisha refused to be lulled by that heady possibility and made an early judgement call. She knew it would never come to that day, for her and Popoy. She needed no explanation nor affirmation; she just knew could not make him forget.
“You won’t let me do it”, she says unaccusingly. Thus ends a chapter, with simple emotions and plain logic. There’s a certain wistfulness, and a sentiment that she should have fought a little bit more. But it shouldn’t take a short dialectical exercise to arrive at the same conclusion. Trisha tellingly uses “won’t” not “can’t”, to spell the difference between will and ability. Popoy is broken not because he’s apart from Basha; he’s incomplete because he made himself so. To heal, he needs to come to terms with his own hurt and pain.
Still, Trisha is not quite the dejected girl she’s painted out, at first blush, to be. I think she’s a strong woman who knew she wanted a relationship with someone who was whole, contented with himself. She’s one who decided to wade off from the waters, even if the waves weren’t beating her down anymore. She’s one who chose not to blindly believe in a pledge, but instead deduced the future from the present. She with a fair eye for all weighed her options in seven words: it is worth it in the end? After all, as in everything, the only one you can control here is yourself.
No one wants to be in a situation like Trisha’s, one fraught with so much uncertainty and volatility. Anything about love tests a person’s self-worth and tolerance for pain and compromise. It’s always easy to over-emotionalize and under-intellectualize, and vise versa. It’s even easier to just go crazy and escape. If life were like the movies, it’d be as simple as stepping off the camera. But in real life it takes a lot of time and courage, an obliging set of confidants, and a sprinkling of sage advice.
Now that it’s February, it’s the time to bring out the memories and brush off the labels on all who walked through the heart: the love of your life, ultimate love, soulmate, the one that got away, the one who could have been , and – of course, the mythical – “The One”. Lest the world begrudge it, to those who made that bold, courageous, dignified, heartbreaking decision to stand up and leave, happy valentine’s day. May you have all the happiness you deserve.
This version with edits. Original published on The Philippine Online Chronicles http://thepoc.net/poc-presents/20076-lessons-from-the-heartbreak-club-root-for-the-one-who-walked-away
Image courtesy of http://popoyandbasha.tumblr.com/