It’s the  kind of day that’s perfect. The sky’s an unusual blue; the sun’s a jaunty yellow. No shadows, no shades; the day to spend under the sun –if you’re not one of the undead.

As I claw my way out of the dark underground, the sun pierces my decaying flesh and the sky blinds my sunken eyes. The sounds of battle fill the air as I lumber forward, until –there!

I see a row of IDs decorating a katana’s edge. Wait, IDs? Then I see a black blur, and a hand materializes on the weapon’s grip. My undead teenage brain has just enough time to form one thought: “This dude’s seriously wearing head-to-toe black in this heat?”

A ninja charges at me, yelling, “Die zombie!”

Meet the basterds

The normally bustling SEC Walk is empty, and the usually lively foyers are quiet. It’s as if the campus decided to sleep off the remaining days before June—but not me.

I’m dashing to SEC-C foyer, worried that I’ll be late. Assistant Director Justine Peña is a stickler for punctuality. Through my midday run I think: “Zombie, zombie, zombie!”

I’m ready to star in this year’s OrSem film as Zombie #9!

As I approach the foyer, I see a table covered with the usual cosmetics, and a dubious cup of blue-gray liquid. Sam Chan from production design hustles me to a bench. She grabs a cotton ball and takes it apart; each tuft is then dipped in the blue-gray mixture and pasted on my face. Turns out that goo is face glue.

Waiting for the cotton-turned-scars to dry, I look around. Previous O-films spoof the “it” stories of the year (“Heroes,” “Gossip Girl,” “Twilight”) but I’m seeing a very unusual cast. A Na’vi and the Mad Hatter talk in the corner; Hit Girl practices her kicks; Manny Villar humming his jingle; a Ninja Assassin, rechristened the ID Ninja, polishes his katana. “It’s one of those instances often seen in the OrSem films [that stresses] how important the ID is,” Jayce Chua, ID Ninja, explains.

This assortment of characters is an unusual mix, but they’re the film’s heroes: Basterds. “We’re just doing our own story while putting in all the other fads,” says Gio Puyat, one of the directors.

While there are heroes, there are also villains: the zombies. A zombiefied Gianna Villavicencio tells me, “I have this list that I want to do, stuff [before I graduate], and this is on my list.”

Volunteered or dragged, it doesn’t matter; each extra is transformed into an undead. Blue-gray cotton becomes scars, foundation makes each face deathly white, and purple powder simulates mottled bruises. Dr. Zomboss would be proud of his minions.

Sam puts the finishing touches on my face and I join the others trailing after Production Manager Aika Beltran. A voice calls after us, “Try not to sweat!”

To kill a zombie

As I step on the field fronting Matteo Ricci, I hear crunching beneath our feet. Unless twigs suddenly took root in the entire field, the grass had become very brittle –not to mention sharp.

I try not to think about the potential tumbles on the grass. Gio and Paolo Abrihan are upfront, giving directions. They’ll be shooting from different angles, so they need the zombies to split up and face a Basterd. And oh yeah, we’re to lose.

Another zombie and I find ourselves facing the ID Ninja. The director shouts “Action!” and the war begins. I advance, arms stretched, back hunched, orange cone swaying dangerously on my head.

But the ID Ninja is swift. Within two steps, he’s slashed me, and dutiful extra that I am, I fall on the grass, grazing my knee. I position my limbs in as skewed an angle as I can and tilt my neck as if it were broken. Through slit eyes I see the ID Ninja grab another zombie’s head and twist it.

This time the director calls “Cut!”

Operation pink flag

We retake the scene three more times, and I get a bit too familiar with the field. The director finally gets the shot though, and I get shuffled to another battlefield. Five zombies charge the Bear Jew Basterd, one at a time, while someone films from a wheelchair rolling backwards. I’m the last to strike and I charge, readying my half-rotten teeth to sink into human flesh—

And I end up on the pavement, like the four before me. As sharp as the grass might have been, nothing beats crashing into concrete.

I wince as I get up; it seems that I have a penchant for falling on my left knee. From the looks of the zombie-strewn field, I doubt we’ll ever win– although it seems the fight scenes are done. The zombies are gathering at the stairs leading to the study hall’s 2nd floor. “This time,” I hear one of the directors say, “We’ll be filming the zombie army’s entrance.” Fifteen zombies, even with the film’s crew, don’t exactly pose a threat.

Or maybe, we do. The zombie army just has to run from three different sides and be filmed from three different angles. Editing multiplies 30-something extras to 300. “The magic of technology,” Elya Vera, one of Aika’s assistants, remarks.

We assemble just inside the alcove. Aika, pitching in as the head zombie, ties a pink bandana around a stick. Spotting it, a zombie cries out, “Why is our flag pink?!”

The seniors strike back

We shoot the entrance scene ten times –running down, waiting for the steps to clear, shouting “Brains!” The first run, we’re exhilarated. By the ninth take, the adrenaline has reached its demise, and I wanted to drop dead.

But we still have to shoot the Basterds’ victory. The directors instruct all the zombies to lie down in the middle of the pavement, and we were more than happy to oblige.

All the zombies drape over each other, eyes closed and dead. I hear the Basterds walking over and around us, the pavement vibrating with their steps. The last line is delivered, and the O-film’s most riveting sequence ends.

In a way, it’s a swan song for those behind the O-film. With a cast and crew comprised mostly of seniors, the film is packed with wisdom of years. Talk about irony: a film to introduce the Ateneo to newcomers done mostly by old-timers. “It’s like a community thing,” Paula Fucoy notes, as she rubs her zombie makeup off.

Then again, perhaps it’s not such an irony. “The freshmen will find it funny because of all the pop culture references,” says Aika. “But it goes for all the students. They’ll know the people, and they’ll go, ‘Oh, we can have zombies in school!’”

The sun’s long gone down, filming had ended a while back. As I leave the well-lit foyer, a breeze raises the hairs on my nape. The sky’s an inky violet; the moon’s a radiant silver –a perfect night for the undead.