By MARLA CABANBAN

New Slang takes a look back at what we have learned from our favorite Filipino love teams and their projects–memorable or otherwise.

DISCUSSED: Got 2 Believe, Rico Yan, Claudine Barretto, David Pomeranz

Got 2 Believe is a Star Cinema rom-com directed by Olivia Lamasan. It’s also known as the last movie Rico Yan ever made before allegedly succumbing to bangungot in a beach resort in 2002, bangungot being that very Filipino phenomenon of the nightmare death (literally).

Of course it was 2002, the deliberate misspelling of the title was a sign of the times — back when some schmuck devised it as the quickest way to make things sound “hip” and “very now,” when ironically, using both terminologies proves it otherwise. The title is derived from that song by David Pomeranz, the quintessential music man for everyone’s prom for the past two decades. This is Star Cinema trying to make David Pomeranz, Mister King and Queen of Hearts to Mister Trendy, without a trace of irony. It is from this title that the viewers are preconditioned for the modern adaptation of the rom-com genre, which just like David Pomeranz, has been guilty of schmaltz and cheese for a number of decades as well.

Usually Filipino rom-coms are created as vehicles to launch and glorify love teams. When Got 2 Believe came out, there was no need to blatantly showcase the featured love team. By then, the entire country was already fixated on Rico Yan and Claudine Barretto, who were an actual couple and media darlings.

If it wasn’t obvious enough with her delayed introduction, I’ll say it now: I hate Claudine Barretto. I can go on and on about her shrill colegiala twang and her magical succulent boobage that never used to be there, but the point of the matter was that enduring any movie included her vapid, doe-eyed self was a laborious task for me. If it wasn’t also obvious, I had a huge crush on Rico Yan (his boy next door looks and bright smile were lethal, I tell you) and I didn’t find Claudine worthy of his affections, both reel and real.

But back to the movie.

Olivia Lamasan modernized the proverbial Pinoy boy meets girl story by injecting some Hollywood and burgis flavors into it.

Claudine is Toni, portraying the “always a bridesmaid, never the bride” archetype. She is in love with love, so much that she devotes her time as a wedding coordinator specializing in offbeat, quirky weddings, e.g. medieval, fairyland, etc.

Then enter Rico as Lorenz, a romance cynic who makes his living as a photographer, occasionally shooting weddings. He has a goofy assistant named Rudolph, played by the talented Vhong Navarro. Right about now, I’d like to say that I appreciate the names given to these characters. Toni and Lorenz sound like the names of people we actually know, a far cry from romance movies that force Dynasty/Falcon Crest-esque names to roll uncomfortably off everyone’s tongues, especially with the villains and rich characters having 3-syllable names. Tiffany, Vanessa, Maria Christina, Cordapia, whatever.

Ah, and of course those two inevitably meet and get on each other’s nerves. They spend a good deal squabbling and tormenting each other, but because the movie poster shows them in the throngs of syrupy looks, we know they will end up together. Hollywood has conditioned us to believe this, and so has this movie.

GONE TOO SOON, RICO! *bawls*

Clearly, a lot of thought went into character development and it shows. At 25, Toni is considered an old maid by her family and Filipino society, and all she wants is to live happily ever after. To add to her list of misfortunes, she ends up coordinating the wedding of her best friend to the love of her life. My dearest Claudine Barretto is still shrill as ever, but because her character’s psyche is so well-written, we sympathize.

Rico Yan was effective as the career driven Lorenz, who, beneath the cockiness, playfulness, and cynicism, has a good heart. Lorenz has a gift for capturing Toni at her most wa-poise moments during weddings, and eventually exploits her unending presence at Manila’s weddings for a feature article for a big magazine. The feature was naturally about her perpetual bridesmaid status, and Lorenz’s role is to help her find her dream groom. He even goes as far as setting Toni up with his nice, US-educated best friend even if he already found himself falling for her. I’ll go along with that plot line because even if it’s cheesy and saccharine, it still makes sense.

We know how it ends, but the reason we stick around to watch it anyway is because admittedly, we are curious how these two fall in love, survive a major conflict, then find themselves in each others’ arms again. It’s a tried and tested formula, one that has survived age and cultural barriers. No rich girl, poor boy drama here. There is no scheming ex-girlfriend. There are no convenient accidents to kill off undesirable characters. There are no prolonged crying and slapping scenes that hysterically announce, “GIVE ME A FAMAS! LOOK, I’M CRYING! PANG-AWARD, TITAH!”

Yet because this is still a Filipino movie, we cannot totally escape the flamboyant costumes and the overacting. Lamasan pulls it off because the movie is peppered with fantasy sequences and generous slapstick moments. It’s candy-coated hyper reality. So we take it with a grain of salt, and we sit back and absorb the absurdity and realize that we’re enjoying it.

Got 2 Believe succeeds as an escape, as a peep into a hyperbolized version of events that do happen in our love lives. What, who hasn’t lost a crush to a best friend? Who hasn’t had to choose between what our heads say versus what our hearts want? The movie is filled with exaggerated events but the problems and the questions raised are all too real.

The movie is so cheesy that you might as well serve wine and fruit slices with it, and yet somehow we’re all rooting to see Toni and Lorenz end up together, even me, the Claudine hater. Then as you hear, “Take me to your heart, show me where to staaart….” you remember why you go to the movies, and you also remember why you willingly danced to David Pomeranz during prom. It may be downright silly, but hey, it does feel great to feel swoony once in a while.

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Marla is the art director for New Slang. A recovering wild child—recovering in this case from her cloistered, fundamentalist Catholic upbringing, she thinks she finally found a balance between the two extremes. She is everywhere and nowhere, sometimes laughing, sometimes stuffing her face, and sometimes jotting down mental notes for the next story she can spin out of the world’s inanity.