The Problem With The Sana Dati "Cry Trip" Experience

Problem:

Old-school non-pervert-looking gwaponess of Benjamin Alves + Jerrold Tarog's original music + childish curiousity and impulses of Lovi Poe's Andrea + passionate crying of Dennis =  a Cry Trip (sort of the opposite of Laugh Trip) that reminds viewers of their depression days, or that day they read the ending of The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter at dawn.

The movie works the way Blair Witch Project did: it lets the viewers scare themselves. Sana Dati presents you a set-up that triggers all the fear and anxiety in the head, and you play it all out until you couldn't help yourself but cry for a loneliest sadness that seems to only afflict those who have been unloved, those whose sadness is both celebrated and loathed, those whose sorrow have led them to quit. You knew this crying is certain, so, unlike in most cases, it is safe to say that you chose this. You allowed yourself to be sad.

Like Louis CK said, you're lucky to feel sad. Such choice is a luxury. But the problem is: how can you have this chance to feel normal if you, say, couldn't catch the screening of Sana Dati because you have diarrhea and there's no toilet paper in SM Cebu Cinema 5? You are forced to go buy some outside the cinema, because SM Cinema doesn't even offer tissue vending machine in the male restroom as it is surely their commercial policy to not care about your shit. And because you missed this screening, you will forever miss the movie, and you continue feeling dead. There's only one screening because no one else is watching. How can you feel it when you can't see it, if you miss it?

Solution: Always bring tissue paper in the movies, for your precious tears and poop.