Name: Perez, Mharc Anthony P.

Subject: Retorika
Section: BSA 118 – Sec110-MN Faculty: Mr. Miel Ondevilla

Weights: The Beauty in Imperfections

(A screenplay-inspired Descriptive Essay)

INTRODUCTION
What does it mean to strive for something perfect? Had it always been a human
attribute to work towards something that is prestige, as the word perfection? Luxury,
beauty, relationships, happiness, all these words correlate to that of a “perfect life.” But
how can one live such a life when the odds are stacked against them? Does that mean
they are living the opposite of the so-called perfect life? Working hard to the point of
tiring yourself but not earning enough, losing or gaining weight worsened by how society
looks at you, failing relationships built in the past, or having none – the gravity of these
events can quickly wear down a person. Does that make their lives “imperfect”? The
movie, ‘Weight,’ by Lakambini Sitoy is a story of how one finds beauty in imperfection.
This essay took a ‘creative screenplay’ approach as it tries to describe and analyze the
songs used and scenes in the movie and how they correlate to one another to the
portrayal of the story accompanied with imagery.

BODY

The song ‘Mukha Mo’ by Sleep Kitchen begins to play. The song’s guitar
starts strumming. The music resonates with the first scene as it details the current
situation our character is currently experiencing.
 It is late at night, and Ami’s deadlines still have a long road ahead. She had a
horizontal figure, visibly stressed and tired, making her insecure. But that didn’t matter;
she had food to accompany her. She thought to herself, “Why should I starve myself?
We’re all feminists here, aren’t we?” as she returned to their work pantry to get a fill of
the cake left a few days ago from the consecutive birthdays celebrated by her
colleagues.
‘Gustong, gustong, gustong, gustong, gusto ko nang matulog.’— Most of the
lights are turned off and silence filled up her office room. She tried to suppress her yawn
as her eyes were fixated on the monitor’s screen proofreading her article. Working at a
women’s rights non-governmental organization at night was no easy task, especially
when she juggled working as an invisible junior editor at a newspaper in the mornings
while only having one day of rest a week. Writing and editing articles detailing women’s
rights gave her solace.
‘Tama na’ng iyak, iyak, iyak; ‘Pag gising ko nito siguradong sigurado. Tunaw ang
kilay ko kakatago ng matang namumugto.’ – She had no reason to complain, for what
matters more is that she can survive in this hell that she is trapped in called ‘Quezon
City.’ It is a cycle of waking up, working overnight, eating chips, and taking swigs of
coke, then sleeping only for a couple of hours before doing the same thing all over
again.
The song's lyrics continue. “At pigilin ko man mabuburyo lang tayo.” She feels tired.
She just hoped that the person who will work with her is just as gender-sensitive and
dedicated as her. Time passes by.

The first song concludes, and the setting is devoid of

sound. As she was immersed in her job, she was drawn
to a noise: someone's car flooding the old air
conditioner's buzz, followed by a slam of the car door.
She descended the steps to open the door for the layout
artist, who had just returned from their other shift. Jayme
Vera was his name, and was very different from Ami in
many ways. He is physically younger than Ami, standing
at the age of 30. He is thin, with a chocolate-colored
complexion and long, luscious hair. Unlike Ami, Jayme
takes a more relaxed approach to everything he does. He
primarily spoke Tagalog upwardly, while Ami mostly
spoke English. None of them had equal grounds for
connections in the first place.
 Ami followed Jayme into
the shared project room, where
the air conditioner's hum lingered.
She positioned herself close to
him, safeguarding her work from
accidental erasures. “Are you
staying the night again?” he
murmured with his accent; it was
different from her U.P. classmates’
accents. ‘Maybe,’ she replied.
Jayme asked if she was working
alone, and she nodded. She had
kept a towel and a spare change
of clothes in a paper sack on her
desk intended for a night at the NGO office in Quezon City. However, a thought struck
her. “Aren’t you staying up with me?” “Not this time”, he replied. “Oh”, she said,
disappointed.

It was much better to do things with him around, as she could swap
responsibilities with him when her eyes were too tired to work. Sometimes, he would
drive several blocks to a convenience store and return with a small treat for her. Jayme
told Ami she was going to Baguio for a long weekend. He was driving the whole night
despite having nothing to do because he felt like it, “Seems stupid to blow all that
money on nothing,” she snarkily replied. Jayme just accepted the remark. It for sure is
very pricey. But at least he had a house with his folks living there. He flippantly invited
Ami to go to Baguio once, but she was too astonished to say anything.
Jayme reached into his knapsack and opened a bag of chips with his teeth. He
asked Ami if she wanted some, and she felt hungry again, and it disgusted her. Jayme
helped pour a generous amount of chips into her open palm, which was cheap, cheese-
flavored, and very good. “One more time won’t hurt,” she consoled herself. Jayme
jokingly poked at her weight underneath his breath, but she just said she was “not”
obese in a resigned tone. “Hey, I was only joking, okay? Don’t get mad.”, he said. “I’m
not mad. Why should I care?” she replied. “I can see it in your face.” He stood up from
his chair and grinned at her. “I’m taking a shower. You can use the computer if you
want.”
The song 'I'm Not Running' by Noa Mal starts playing. The music, literally and
metaphorically, evokes Ami's experience of being trapped with her thoughts, alone in
her office as Jayme is about to leave. The song depicts Ami's mental ability as she
descends into her studies of seeing Jayme until she is unable to function any longer.
The title is particularly ironic, as Ami is on the verge of fatigue and desperately needs to
rest her head.
The song’s lyrics began. “I’m not sleeping, but I am dreaming, And you are living
in my head,” – she can’t focus on her work as she is fixated on the thought of Jayme.
She liked his skin, how he moved around the office, and how he spoke while attaching
only the barest importance to his presence. He couldn’t be called handsome, not by a
longshot, but he had a certain appeal, a mouth that seemed to be smiling even when he
wasn’t.
The song’s lyrics continued. “Am I crazy? Fucking tell me. Why are you running
my head?” – Jayme was the type of guy Ami would like to have flirtatious chit-chat with.
He didn’t attract her, but she could let her hair down with him. This diffidence suited her
just fine. She didn’t like men who came on too strong. The way Jayme taps her nape or
her sensitive shoulder blades, saying goodbye. Jayme constantly pokes at her weight
but never feels anything more than indifference. It felt like… something.
Her thoughts of Jayme continued to spiral. “I’m not sleeping, but I am seeing.
He’s running around my head.” – she yawned, barely conscious of the words she had
typed. Ami questioned if Jayme had ever read her work. Probably not. Too much focus
on such texts leads to political entanglements, and Ami believes it's the worst for a
freelancer seeking a livelihood. Her screen blurred from sleepless nights. Rolling her
seat from the computer, she rested at a cluttered desk, promising herself just a minute.
It seemed she had barely closed her eyes when she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Ami,
Ami. Wake up. I’m leaving.” “What time is it?” Ami said. “Half past one.”, “Oh no,” she
groaned. He was peering sharply into her face. Jayme told Ami she was in no condition
to work, inviting her to take her home. Although she resisted at first, she asked for
coffee instead. The song concludes as she reluctantly follows Jayme home.

The song ‘Out of Time’ by Joan as a Police Woman begins to play in this scene.
The music conveys the life of seclusion in an open glass, as she sees the world around
her but never gets to experience it for herself. In a sense, Jayme is taking her around
Quezon City to see the world spin, as everything is not just on a blue screen monitor.
In the early morning hours, Quezon City transformed into another world. The familiar
buildings, seen daily from a jeepney, were swallowed by darkness, with only sporadic
neon and fluorescence streaking past as the car raced over the asphalt. As she crossed
her legs, a chill ran through her. While driving, Jayme asked Ami if she wanted 7/11 or
Dunkin’ Donuts. She had no money and asked to look for a Megalink first. The song
begins. “Where’s the love song to set us free? Everything is turning the way round.”
through the night breeze, she could explore Quezon City in its entirety as they turned to
every street to look for a working ATM machine.

“And you’ve been so busy

lately that you haven’t found the
time to open up your mind and
watch the world spinning.” – as the
song progresses, Ami also sees the
nightlife here in Quezon City.
Individuals looking for casual fellatio
in hopes of earning a quick buck, the
neon signs of open love hotels, the
Ozone Disco Club that had recently
burned down, and the Grand Bingwit
– a place where beer-bellied men
pawed on half-naked girls. If it weren’t for newspapers, she wouldn’t have been familiar
with the situation of Quezon City, nor thinking that they could’ve happened.

"Where are we going anyway?"

she said softly. "To Aberdeen Court,"
Jayme replied, a half-grin playing on
his lips. She couldn't help but smile,
too, because people drove to
Aberdeen Court to make love, and it
was precisely the kind of remark she
expected from him. Why was it that he
always managed to make her smile?
No other guy could get away with a
joke like that around her. She leaned
back, perplexed, realizing she was
enjoying his company and the ride,
even though nothing was particularly new. She had traversed these roads countless
times before, during college, and in the years that followed. Every landmark was as
familiar to her by night as by day.

“Gently out of time. Feel the sunshine on your face. It’s in a computer now, gone
to the future, way out in space.” – Although she had gone back and forth to all these
places, she never had a chance to see Quezon City for what it is: its imperfection. She
always had no time. For Ami, the reality was a computer terminal, her editors, and the
malls where she prowled relentlessly in search of the perfect book, outfit, and Ami. So,
she never bothered.

Their search was unsuccessful as they returned to the first place they started, to
the great white memorial to Manuel L. Quezon: three marble spears, each topped by a
hefty angel. Head bowed in mourning, permanently flightless, frozen in stone. Jayme
insisted on using his money instead, and although Ami thinks it’s not feminist for a guy
to pay for her meal, she couldn’t muster up the courage to. “And you’ve been so busy
lately that you haven’t found the time to open up your mind and watch the world
spinning.” – as the song’s lyrics repeat once again, it now refers to Ami as she realizes
that she couldn’t answer because she’s scared of finding out what his answer would be
if she denied. She never had the time to open her mind to anyone else, and she was
always preoccupied with work. She reduced Jayme to someone who plays guitar,
collects sandmans, and liked Tori Amos in his 30s, but none of that told her more about
him. Jayme broke the silence by telling Ami that he knows a Dunkin’ Donuts that is open
24/7; the song ends as they drive off to their next destination.
 As they sped down the empty streets of
Quezon City, they stopped on the other side
of Aurora Boulevard, where a doughnut cafe
with a pink-and-orange sign reflected off the
hood of the Galant as the car slowed. Despite
the workers' apparent exhaustion, She and
Jayme motioned to their orders, too fatigued
to speak up. Ami brought their tray to a table,
avoiding eye contact as he slid into the stool
across from hers. Her chocolate steamed and
swirled in her Styrofoam cup. She closed her
eyes and enjoyed the sugary warmth melting
on her tongue. His skin, she noted without looking, was as dark and smooth as the
surface of a chocolate doughnut.

She opened her eyes to Jayme studying her face, to which he asked Ami if she
could take her home. Jayme reasoned that she was half-asleep, and he needed to hurry
up and go to Nueva Ecija before sunrise. Looking at her tray with a miserable
expression, she blurted, “I wish I were going up to Baguio, too.” She didn’t know what
prompted her to say that, so she replied hastily, “Or that you weren’t going…It isn’t fair.”
The words seemed to amuse him. "Ami," he said. "I've got to get out of QC. I need to
see some mountains. I'm sick to death of this place." "So am I. I envy you."
They stood up. At the counter, she caught him by the tail of his shirt. "Can I have
another doughnut?" Although Jayme poked fun at her for wanting to order another
doughnut, he touched Ami’s nape gently and bought her another one, wrapped in a
paper bag.

The song ‘Little Person’ by Jon Brion begins to play. This song perfectly
encapsulates the feeling of Ami as she feels there is something wrong, that she is a
little person in this world, juxtaposed with the fact that her being overweight was the
problem. Was it that, or did she only need someone to make her feel love despite her
imperfections? The song perfectly conveys this dilemma she faces.

For Ami, what he said was true. That she was always hungry; perhaps she was
sick. Maybe some rare disease—born of countless missed meals, binges, deadlines,
bitter friendships, her disdain for her reflection, and the inability to love the right men—
was eroding her tissues, organs, heart, and soul. “I’m just a little person, one in a sea of
many little people who are unaware of me. I do my little job and live my little life. Eat my
little meals...” – as the song progresses, she thinks that perhaps she is only half the
woman she could be. She felt imperfect. She snapped out of her thoughts inside the car
when Jayme asked her where she lived. “Yale”, she answered. They drove off, although
he had forgotten where it was exactly. He knew the way to her home,’ she was sure.
After all, he had lived in this city longer than she had. But at the intersection where they
could make a right turn and be at her place in minutes, he slowed as though waiting for
some signal from her. However, she remained silent, and the car continued.
 As she looked at her spare plastic toothbrush and clothes in her bag, Jayme
asked with no urgency in his voice, “Tell me where to turn, Ami.” She thought to herself,
what would happen if they kept driving?
She leaned onto the car’s chair, and her heart began to thud. The song’
continues its verse – ‘Maybe somewhere far away, I’ll find a second little person who
will look at me and say, ‘’I know you, you’re the one I’ve waited for; let’s have some
fun.’’ At the vast intersection of Aurora and EDSA, he swung the car onto Metro Manila’s
main thoroughfare, keeping well ahead of the buses, which, at two in the morning, still
thundered over the asphalt. There was still another route home, she thought. If she
opens her mouth and tells Jayme to go in that direction, she can finally go home, take a
shower, and slip through her cotton sheets, never having to think of Jayme Vera ever
again. She had to get home. She had to take the turn.
The song’s climax unravels – “Life is precious every minute, and more precious
with you in it. So, let’s have some fun, and we’ll take a road trip way west.” Jayme
thought of the same thing as they reached the New York turn. “Here?” he asked again;
she tried to speak; her throat was dry, and her tongue would not move. “Here?” he
repeated. She felt a sound coming through her throat, “No.” She repeated herself,
feeling estranged from her vocal cords, “No.”

Jayme did not respond, instead

pressing the accelerator. He never lost
his calm, even as they were about to be
slammed from behind by a speeding
Turtle top. He just kept running till they
were out of sight. "Tell me when to stop,"
he said. As the speedometer needle
rose, they were swept onto the Kamias
Flyover, further away from Cubao. The
song continuously sang its chorus –
‘’You’re the one I like best; I’m glad I’ve
found you. Like hangin’ around you…
Maybe someday, somewhere far away,
I’ll meet a second little person. And we’ll go out and play.” The song perfectly
encapsulated the tension between the words let out by Jayme and Ami. Although it
started platonically, Ami, in her thoughts, sees something in Jayme, and that of leaving
Baguio, that made her stay in the car. Maybe she is now finding the second little person
she has ever hoped for. That thought was halted as she caught her breath as they
rocketed over the stretch of elevated asphalt; they were flying. In her mind, they were
soaring over a rain-slicked road, golden from the reflected light of the mercury lamps,
high enough in the air to catch a glimpse of the top of the Quezon Memorial and its
three earthbound angels.
 The song ends, and it is then followed by ‘Fuck Up’ by Fresh. As they drive
farther and farther away, the song encapsulates the feeling of escaping something you
have been cuffed into. Moreover, the music embodies Ami as the song describes her
journey before leaving Quezon City and finally running the place that was once her so-
called ‘jail cell.’
“Nobody likes me, and I don’t care. Conform or die, it’s all the same. I’ve
gone way off into the deep.” – the folks at the newspaper, she thought, would be frantic
tomorrow, and she still had two articles to complete at the NGO. But that didn’t matter;
she was too far from them to even care. She never conformed to the status quo, and
people didn’t like her anyway. Wouldn’t it be better to run off with my co-worker
somewhere far away? Then the grade evened out, and they were securely on earth. “I
wish I were brave like you, but I can’t muster it up. I’m such a fuck-up.” – the song
continued as Jayme was speeding, beating a red light at an intersection, slinging the
Calant past car after car. Darkness rushed by on either side. The Quezon Memorial was
behind them, growing smaller and smaller by the second. It looked now like a warm little
heart pulsing with secret life.
She never dared to tell him she wanted to leave this place. The air caught her
throat, or maybe she was too tired to retaliate. “Dreaming of leaving this place that I’ve
now outgrown, but I can’t muster it up. I’m such a fuck-up”. As the song’s lyrics
continued, so did Jayme and Ami's journey. They were almost out of Quezon City as his
hands rested lightly, comfortably, on the wheel. As the lyrics of the song go, “What I
would give to feel at home…This place that I have now outgrown.” – She remembered
the way he would move about the office, touching the papers she had been working on
in that unhurried way of his, as though his fingertips afforded him a delicious new way of
perceiving things. They are now past that, finally leaving the place that kept them stuck
forever. As they reach the end of the Balintawak road, the song also ends.

The final act plays the song ‘Paper Bag’

by Fiona Apple. This last scene details
Ami’s internal monologue and inner
conflict, with guilt catching up to her.
She felt like she was making a mistake
being with him, traveling somewhere far
away. Maybe she doesn’t deserve to be
here at all. The song highlights this fact
as both encompass that feeling and
lyrically someone feeling like they have
been blinded by their fixation on
someone that they convinced
themselves of the amount of ugliness
one thing has.

Beyond Balintawak was the road to Baguio, Jayme murmured, "Tell me when to
stop," he murmured, teasing her now repeating the words. She arched her back as the
air-conditioner exhaled frigid against her breasts. “I was staring at the sky, just looking
for a star. To pray on or wish or something like that.” – Ami thought she would finally see
the moonlight; she would not be greeted with extra work and deadlines overnight; it's
over limitless fields and over rock and the pale lacework of tree branches as the car
reached the mountains. “I was having a sweet fix of a daydream of a boy whose reality,
I knew, was hopeless to be had.” Her thoughts begin to chase her, her guilt catching up
to her. She had always thought of Jayme’s skin, how his words flowed out of his mouth,
and how he acted gently to her. Was it okay for her to go to Baguio with this man
instead of working in Quezon City?

The song’s lyrics continued – “Approaching to be grabbed, but as it came down

near, so did a weary tear. I thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag “ – the song
invoked what Ami is feeling at this very moment, wherein she believed her fixation on
Jayme blinded her. She thought of how sloppily he dressed, how he preferred pictures
to words, and how they never fought because they wouldn't speak each other's
language. He was a paper bag, and she thought she got him all wrong. He smoked
joints, he loved comic books, he needled her about her baggage, about her weight – but
nothing he said would hurt her now. “Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills,
Cause I know I’m a mess he doesn’t wanna clean up.” She knows she is in a current
state of mess; she is imperfect, and he projects this feeling onto Jayme. He is not
perfect. He will never be. He will never understand what she is going through.

The song is about to approach its end as it sings – “Hunger hurts, but starving…
It works when it costs too much to love.” She became frantic with her thoughts. The
song represents her inner thoughts, telling her that she is imperfect and starvation is the
cure to her “rare disease.” Her thoughts were going so fast until she felt nothing, no
guilt, no tiredness, none of that terrible hunger.
As the song ends, the movie ends as Ami feels a strange light sensation as
Jayme takes one hand from the wheel and gently lays his fingers against her cheek.
Jayme’s touch felt pure, as it assured Ami that no matter how imperfect she was, maybe
someone would love her and make her think that sensation spark once again.

CONCLUSION
As the credits roll in for the movie, the song that plays in the background movie
is the song ‘Save Me’ by Aimee Mann. And to put it simply, Jayme and Ami’s
relationship was not perfect, as well as their lives. This was an unconventional love
story between two co-workers who are different in every single way. The lyrics “You look
like a perfect fit, for a girl in need of a tourniquet” specifically talk about how Ami was
never okay in the first place and that all the societal pressure on her made her mentally
and physically tired. She was forced to suck up and conform to the cruel area of
Quezon City, with her resilience as a way of bandaging herself of the damage done to
her.

The credits continue to roll. The song also moves forward – “But can you save
me? Come on and save me…From the ranks of freaks who suspect they could never
love anyone. Cause I can tell, you know what it’s like. The long farewell of the hunger
strike.” The song defined the relationship between Ami and Jayme moving forward. The
ranks of freaks could be related to Ami herself, as she sees herself as unworthy of being
loved by anyone else because of her weight. The question could be interpreted as her
questioning if Jayme was the right person to love her despite her imperfections. But
truth be told, he saw past that. This is seen in the way Jayme teases her and the way
he touches her cheek gently at the end of the story. He was always gentle with Ami and
would immediately apologize to her if he ever said something that hurt her. Although
they started platonic in nature, they blossomed beautifully into something delightful and
heartwarming.
 I also want to highlight the juxtaposition of how Quezon City is described and its
relationship to the story. Quezon City is described as imperfectly beautiful – especially
in the part where the report describes Quezon Memorial Circle, the Stone Angels, and,
of course, the nightlife and society during the 90s in Quezon City. Like Ami, Jayme saw
her as imperfectly beautiful; he had always cared for her in many situations at the office.
“You struck me dumb like radium; like Peter Pan or Superman, you will come to
save me.” In a sense, the story was all about how the small gestures done by Jayme
were her slowly saving Ami from this world that made her feel so lonely. He held Ami as
he took her to a place somewhere far from where she was suffering. It was never about
perfection that Ami should have been striving for. It was someone embracing her
despite those flaws that those flaws make her imperfectly beautiful.