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Friday, August 09, 2013

Cinemalaya 2011 Backlogs: Ang Babae Sa Septic Tank

note: these were reviews of 2011 Cinemalaya films that I thought had been published way back. But for some reason, they weren't published. So here they are in all their glory:

If you don't want to read a whole wall of text, scroll to the last line.

Scene 69. Interior. Night. Condominium unit of yours truly. Establishing shots of a small cramped room with books and dvds everywhere. With hesitation his hands start to hover above the keyboard and they start moving, and the narration begins...

I've been watching indie films every year at the Cinemalaya Independent Film Festival. With this year coming to a close this will have been my sixth year watching the best of Philippine Cinema in general.

And, with that viewing experience, if there's one thing Ang Babae Sa Septic Tank tells me, it's that after this time the industry is beginning to become self aware and laugh at its own flaws.

And I quote from Wiktionary (because I'm lazy) :

satire: A literary technique of writing or art which principally ridicules its subject often as an intended means of provoking or preventing change. Humour is often used to aid this.

Ang Babae sa Septic Tank is satire in the purest sense of that definition. With a title that is a homage to Mario O'Hara's Babae Sa Breakwater, a film that is itself something that reintroduced the world to Philippine Cinema, it becomes a living reflection of what independent cinema is today. It takes a look at three filmmakers wanting to make their own award winning masterpiece. Their script is simple - containing material I see in every Cinemalaya: scenes of squalor, social realism sometimes distored as if a caricature, twist endings that you can see miles away - all things that wow international audiences and film festivals the world over.

The movie cleverly chronicles the characters' thought processes in shaping what would eventually become the final product. In essence it's a film about making films just as much as 8 1/2 or the Man from La Mancha was, and it gives us a glimpse at the very process of filmmaking.

Behind all of the laughs that the movie provides, it shows us a sort of creative stagnation that threatens the spirit of independence and creativity that is the trademark of indie cinema. When spurred by international acclaim, filmmakers may be tempted to copy that success by using the same concepts. By doing that, the same ideas are repeated over and over again. Instead of something new, you get a bunch of clones preaching only slightly different things. Think about it every time you see a new independently made film. The spirit of freedom of creative control is hindered by something else - the 'winning' formula. It goes not only for films like this but in mainstream ones as well.

And mainstream cinema is something this movie portrays as well. A little vignette in the middle of the film shows the rampant commercialism in some mainstream productions, blatant plugs that actually exist (and this is supposed to be a parody!) for the sake for some random product. It's funny, but at the same time it's actually quite disturbing, though you don't notice because you're laughing too much.

And that's where the satire of this film shines. Independent cinema is the ultimate free expression of creativity - one unhindered by sponsors and fatcats in suits. If the flow of ideas is slowed down by an influx of imitations, then what happens to that creativity?

Cutting to the chase, it's technically sound, cleverly scripted, brilliantly hilarious, and you must absolutely watch it. 10 greasy pedophiles over 10.

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