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Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Cinephilia on the Go: Singapore Edition

I've recently been to Singapore as part of a work related conference, and a tiring conference schedule is no obstacle to the most determined cinephile. It also isn't an obstacle to a hyperactive gastrointestinal tract, but that's a story for another day.

Singapore, owing to its multicultural nature, is also a cinematic melting pot: aside from the run of the mill Hollywood movies, Singapore cinemas also show Chinese films from either Hong Kong or the Mainland, Malay films from either Malaysia or Indonesia, Indian films, mostly in Tamil or Telugu,  films from other territories like South Korea and Japan, and homegrown Singaporean films both mainstream and independent.

Singapore cineplexes, in my experience, are often integrated into malls like the Philippines. Tickets in some box offices can be bought and paid in advance, and some, like the Golden Village moviehouse in Plaza Singapura, are completely automated. The average price of a ticket with no special discounts is around S$9.50 (~370 php), though more fancy options exist such as IMAX, 3D, and VIP lounges.

I saw four films during my short trip to this island nation. So how did it go? Let's find out.


The mid to late eighties constituted a seismic shift towards democracy in several countries: the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, the fall of the Romanian dictatorship during the same year and the People Power Revolution right here in the Philippines, to name a few. 1987: When the Day Comes, is about one such revolution in South Korea: the June Struggle, a series of demonstrations that led to the present-day government of South Korea.

In a way, this film can be viewed as a companion piece and follow-up to contemporary film A Taxi Driver, also a film that dealt with the various acts of dissent that eventually led to the overthrow of the military dictatorship of Chun Doo-hwan. But as A Taxi Driver dealt with its story in smaller, personal terms, at a time where Chun's reign was just beginning, 1987 deals with the story in broader terms. It splits its time between several characters, outlining small acts of defiance that build over time.  It is a fire that foments slowly but surely. While major deaths (both of student activists) constitute both the beginning and end of the film, it is the smoldering sense of defiance among the people that creates the momentum that finally triggers the revolution. As such the film may not have a central character focus, rather, it serves more as a snapshot of that particular time. And the end of the film - a scene where our audience surrogate stands with the people as the demonstrations hit their peak - is just the beginning of a long and painful process towards true democracy, as the democratic reforms started by the revolution would not truly bear fruit until a few years later.

The same year this film was released, South Koreans removed Park Geun-hye from office on accusations of corruption, the will of the people manifesting itself in full force. In South Korea, the spirit of democracy lives on, while tragically, other countries who experienced the same shift towards democracy have forgotten the same lessons.

Love, Simon plays itself out like your usual fun, entertaining, teen story. Simon (Nick Robinson) is your regular high school student counting the days until the end of high school. But one day, he reads a blog post from a fellow student from his school who confesses that he is secretly gay. This catches Simon's attention, because he too is secretly gay, and the two begin an unlikely friendship while they struggle with coming out to the ones they love and their own teen issues.

It's quite interesting how normal Love, Simon feels, and that may be its greatest asset. I probably could not envision such a film existing a decade ago, but here we are, and the result is satisfying and at times awfully sweet. In a way, the world of Love, Simon is an ideal world that I reckon a lot of people would love to live in: a place where almost everyone is understanding and empathetic, where parents are the most progressive and loving parents a kid can have, where a school body is overly supportive and caring towards their own. It's still a far cry from the world we have now, but works like this in mainstream media that try to establish a new normal in the hopes of reaching that ideal world is a wonderful thing.

The film does suffer from a couple of nagging issues: the relationship between Simon and his anonymous friend Blue is underdeveloped, a casualty of the story's structure. Blue's anonymity works to the film's detriment in this case, though it can't be helped. Love stories have been made between people who have never met in person, good love stories even. In this case, I didn't find the love story to be that convincing, with the relationship between Simon and his friend Blue hinging on a mutual understanding (kinship?) and little else. But despite that, Love Simon is a fun watch, especially for teens and young adults.

The story behind Dukun is an interesting one: it is loosely based on the story of Mona Fandey, a pop singer turned witch doctor who was convicted of killing a local politician during a pagan ceremony gone wrong. She was later executed for this crime. The film was delayed for ten years after it was completed, perhaps to distance itself from real life events.

Dukun is a strange amalgamation of courtroom drama and horror film, one that feels dated even by 2007 standards. The film suffers from rudimentary CGI effects and spotty acting. As a horror, the feel is similar to contemporary mainstream horror movies here in the Philippines, though instead of using Catholicism as a defense against evildoers, this Malaysian flick defends its good guys against paganism by the virtues of Islam. As an outsider looking in, that particular cultural  aspect is fascinating. But the horror itself is not really scary at all, the main antagonist's facial contortions ending up more wacky than terrifying. I'm beginning to think it's a cultural thing.

That's the least of the film's problems. For one, it's languidly paced, and with the scares being so lethargic, I found myself struggling to stay awake. The film suffers from a tendency to meander and go on weird tangents. Dukun tries to impart a message advocating piety and religiosity, but I'm not sure if that message is delivered well, if at  all. The ending left me mostly unsatisfied with the result.

And finally, a Singaporean film to finish out today's post. Wonder Boy is a fictionalized biography of singer songwriter Dick Lee. Lee is well known in Singapore, especially in the late eighties and early nineties. I don't know who would serve as a local counterpart... maybe Jose Mari Chan?

Lee's contribution to the pop music scene in Singapore is important - in a milieu where pop music consisted of covers and had to adhere to proper English, holding on to a sort of colonial mentality, Lee's songs used Singlish and were about things Singaporeans could relate to.

The film concentrates more on Lee's early days, when he was just a schoolboy struggling to break out and do his own thing. Here, his character seems to be intended to be portrayed as a misunderstood genius, but he comes off as more insufferable than sympathetic. This fictional version of Dick Lee is, to put it mildly, a bit of a dick.

In any case, there are a couple of aspects of Lee's coming of age that I found fascinating. First, there's a bandmate named Mark that Lee is almost smitten with; there's a sexual tension between the two characters in certain scenes that I didn't foresee. Also, Lee's descent into the hedonistic underworld of seventies Singapore shows a side of the country that outsiders rarely see in contemporary media.

Once Lee mellows after those tumultuous school days, it gets better, though sadly there isn't enough of it once it gets going. Wonder Boy is fun as it is, though it takes a while to warm up to the main character.

Monday, May 28, 2018

Citizen Jake

Mike de Leon's first film in almost two decades begins with its titular character standing in front of us: he is Jake Herrera, son of a powerful senator who was a Marcos crony during the time of Martial Law. He lays out the kind of movie that we are about to watch, almost like a confession. This will be a story depicted using the elements of cinema, we are told. And while the final product may not tell us anything we don't already know, it tells us a lot about the person behind the film.

Citizen Jake feels like a mishmash of different things - documentary, murder mystery, political cinema, and the type of film that was popular in de Leon's heyday - a broad family melodrama that is distinctly Filipino. Yet there's something about the film that feels off. There are photomontages from out of nowhere - introducing characters that have yet to be formally introduced. There are documentary style interludes that both provide context and also distraction. The fourth wall is broken multiple times. Certain talking points are made again and again, making the film feel like a rant or sermon instead of the subtler cinematic experiences we are used to. From the start, during Jake's introductory 'confession,' we are made aware of the film's artificiality, a Brechtian convention made to distance ourselves from the work, allowing us to think critically about its themes and the lessons it tries to impart. Brecht's works inform how the film operates: the relation between space and actor, the film's form, the film's way of characterizing its players; in fact, the film uses a lot of conventions from that particular type of political theater. The ultimate effect, however, is mixed. The film will not be to everyone's tastes, but at the very least it creates discourse.

In my opinion, the film works best when it's not being didactic - it makes good points about the relationship between friends of different social classes, there's also subtle commentary about how hypermasculine our culture is, and there are jabs at proper police procedure (which none of the cops in this film seem to follow). But there are shortcomings. There's a side plot involving Jake's missing mother that doesn't really go anywhere, which is disappointing given that her existence informs a lot of Jake's decisions. The decision to cast Atom Araullo, a journalist and rookie actor, as Jake, mostly works, but at times his acting prowess leaves much to be desired.

The film is an indictment of societal ills, as Jake's crusade to find justice is hampered time and time again by entrenched systems of corruption and abuse. It is not solely a polemic about the Marcoses, as it talks about corruption in a broader sense, in that these systems are cyclical and seemingly endless. It will not come as a surprise to many, and it will not shake the convictions of any oligarchs currently (or, still) in power. But in the world of Citizen Jake, as well as in the real world, silence is the ultimate sin. Silence perpetuates corrupt systems and allows injustice. Silence allows malicious people, and their malicious children, and their children's children, to continue to stay in power. It might sound tired and repetitive, but there's merit in repetition, because we as a society are far too prone to forget the lessons of history.

And there's a word that I regularly hear whenever this film is discussed: complicity. Jake the character is fully aware of the role he plays in the continuation of these corrupt systems, as he is shown to work within its bounds: we are all Citizen Jake. In another, metafictional sense, it holds a different meaning altogether. I cannot help but draw comparisons between this film and another piece of political cinema due to make its way into theaters in two days: Lav Diaz's Ang Panahon ng Halimaw. Here are two masters of the craft, looking back at a long and storied career, and perhaps wondering, 'have I done enough?' De Leon's films in the 70's and 80's were powerful works of cinema, many of them ahead of their time. They were protest songs; works that rebelled against injustice and oppression. But, after 2000, nothing.

Silence.

The ultimate sin.

And here we are, at a precarious state, where we may lose the very freedoms that our predecessors worked so hard to achieve. The cycle of oppression goes on, whether we stay silent or not. But, as Francis Edward Sparshott relates to us in his book, The Theory of the Arts, "the judgement of history is unknowable and in a sense, indeterminate since fruitfulness can be denied and lost." It is folly to claim clairvoyance; there is a ridiculousness in conclusively saying whether these works will have any lasting impact now or in the future, and I think (or at least, I'd like to believe) these two directors know that. As artists, their only recourse is to make their art and let history decide. That's why in the last sequence of this film, I do not see Jake Herrera, journalist - I see Mike De Leon, filmmaker, telling us: I will not stay silent. This is the art I have chosen to create.

Saturday, May 19, 2018

UP Thesis Films at the UP Film Center! ('17-'18, 2nd Sem)


In my spare time (like, in between jobs) I took a little detour to the UP Film Center to watch a handful of short films produced and directed by undergraduate students. It's a nice way to relax, the film center is air conditioned, and it's free! That's a lot of incentive, not to mention the fact that some of tomorrow's most talented local filmmakers will be taking their first steps here.

Sometimes I feel I'm running myself into the ground watching movies during every spare moment of my time, but what can I say. #YOLO.

Here are all six of the films I saw during my short time at the Film Center:

Sa Among Agwat is probably my favorite narrative film of the bunch. It's about a family on the verge of a major change, spurred by social and financial difficulties. It's a concept that's been explored before, but the level of filmmaking on display really elevates it beyond that concept. The film is generally well shot and the music hits all the right emotional notes.

Dimteng ti Lawag is about a young girl and a mother dealing with the disappearance of a loved one. It depicts bereavement in a very different manner, one that, according to the film's director, is commonplace in the fishing community where the film takes place. Though the film stars talented actors such as Art Acuna and Angeli Bayani, the performance of the child actor is particularly noteworthy. It's very subtle in its treatment, and that's something a number of other films can learn from.

Diwasanag is an animated film about... well, you tell me. It's pretty abstract, and it's better treated as an experience instead of something more tangible. The animation quality is tops considering a bunch of students did this.

Isa sa Sanlibong Alitaptap also deals with mourning, and fireflies serve as a motif this time around. But the film kind of loses focus halfway through, and the motif is too subtle to be picked up (it was said during the q and a portion that fireflies were visible even in the earlier parts of the film, but I didn't pick that up visually at all.) To its credit, the film is relatively well shot, especially during the final sequence.

The Good, The Bad and the Fabulous is the sole documentary of the six films that I watched. It's also my favorite film of the bunch, and it's now one of my favorite wrestling documentaries as well. It chronicles three female wrestlers from PWR (Pinoy Wrestling Revolution), exploring their individual motivations, aspirations and wrestling history. At a meta level, it breaks kayfabe and explores how wrestling is as much persona and performance as it is sport. This is a film that can find much traction in festivals, in my opinion, and it's a concept that can be expanded into something feature length.

And finally, Bangkang Papel has a clever conceit, in that real world math problems aren't going to be about a guy that steals forty cakes, but about a mom struggling to support her child from day to day with a meager catch of fish. The film, however, suffers from a bit of tonal dissonance: the film seems to be at odds with itself, with the music evoking some sort of exaggerated satire, while the rest of the film is relatively serious in comparison.


That's all I had time to watch. It was generally a positive experience, and I look forward to seeing more films at the center when they come. Till next time~

Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Cinefilipino 2018: The Eternity Between Seconds, Shorts C

The airport (in this case, Incheon Airport in Seoul) is the perfect setting for Alec Figuracion's The Eternity Between Seconds - while it serves as the nexus for people and planes coming and going, it stays where it is, forever in place. It is never a home, only a temporary shelter for people in transit from one part of their lives to the next. And here is where we find our two protagonists, Sam (Yeng Constantino), a wandering young adult, and Andres (TJ Trinidad), a self-help author. Both their lives are at the cusp of undergoing major changes, and both are understandably nervous at the prospect.

Their interaction is sparked by the theft of Andres' watch - time is literally taken from him. Andres and Sam are strangers in a strange land, displaced from the things they deem familiar and comfortable. In this liminal state, they try to grapple with what has come before and what will come after. It's well tread ground, the most well known cinematic example being Sofia Coppola's Lost in Translation (2003). Nevertheless, there's something endlessly appealing about watching two strangers meeting each other and creating a special bond that is itself a nebulous state between love and friendship.

It's a relatively light movie that thrives on the virtue of standing still. In a world that seems to be endlessly in motion, there is merit in just stopping a while to take a breather, putting a chaotic world into some sort of order or context. But as the film goes on, we see ever more frequent shots of clocks, time slowly returning to the personal realities of Andres and Sam. The loss of temporality is thus precious and itself fleeting. Their time together may have been finite, but you are what you take with you, and in the end they do take something from the experience. As important as it is to stop and hold our breaths once in a while, to exhale is inevitable, because what exists after that state between breaths is the rest of our lives.

***

Cinefilipino 2018 Shorts C Short Shorts Reviews

Palabas (A Country in Moving Pictures) is shot entirely through a video chat between a young woman and an old foreigner. The woman is obviously baiting the foreigner for cash, a scam. The rest of the film tries to show what the Philippines really looks like behind the colorful vistas that foreigners usually see. This is normal to us, but foreign to the foreigner. There's some extra added commentary about certain current events at the end of the short that works in some ways but feels a little too burdened by the gimmick.

If I told you I completely understood Happy Birthday, Mylene! 2023 Ka Na. I would be a dirty liar. I'd want to find out what it really says about crime, the plight of soldiers, indifference towards others, and the fact that it's set in 2023, one year after the end of the current administration. But since the author is dead and all (gee thanks, Barthes) it's all up in the air.

I'm a fan of films that epitomize kagaguhan in all its forms, and that's why I liked Santa Nena! a film about a living saint (not the way you think, probably) and a guy with lightsaber genitals. It's not the most highbrow of humor, but it's totally my thing.

And finally, there's Mark and Lenny, about a man dissecting the emotional landscapes of his  two relationships, both with student activists, both lured by the revolution in the mountains. It can get a bit didactic at times, but it finds its stride later on, when things get more personal.


That ends this year's coverage of Cinefilipino. All in all it was a great festival, a huge improvement over the previous edition in terms of logistics, coverage and film selection. So kudos to the organizers, and I look forward to future iterations of Cinefilipino. See you guys at the movies.

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Squad Goals #FBOIS

Squad Goals is Viva's attempt to promote its boy group, the Fbois. Kudos to whoever thought of that boy group name, as it brings me much happiness. They even have individual names: Justin Trono is Flyboi, Vitto Marquez is Fitboi, Andrew Muhlach is Funnyboi, Jack Reid is Fastboi (what does this mean!? faster than the Flash?)  and Dan Hushcka, the Funkyboi, which is now my most favorite moniker ever. One is immediately reminded of the 1984 film Bagets, which promoted its own boy group. (Or maybe I'm the only one reminded of that, I won't judge or anything.) 

In this film, however, I'd like to call them something else: Dancing Phantom of the Opera, Basketboi, Filipino Pauly Shore, Allied Powers Boi and Axis Powers Boi, because I had to amuse myself. Squad Goals the movie isn't really that bad, it's just meh. It's the ultimate example of a meh film, where the stakes are so low and the conflict so inconsequential that you have to amuse yourself (or be big fans or these bois) to endure it.

The movie is about these five bois going to college and getting into the line of sight of college professor Mandy Daluyong (get it? haha). His course has a notoriously high fail rate, which may not be because the students are bad, given the fact that the college had to schedule remedial classes to keep everyone on schedule. That's basically the equivalent of having the college admit it had a booboo. Anyway, the #fbois go through a number of shenanigans involving drugs, puking, girls (oooooh) and other things college kids have to deal with. In any case, the main driving point of the film is to have these five fbois pass Social Sciences 1, which is the most important goal to achieve ever since Thanos collected the Infinity Stones. There are also some family issues in this movie, but they have the emotional weight of a tardigrade.

Of course, Viva won't skip the opportunity to cram even more artists into this movie, and the five #fbois have to have on screen partners. Some are naturally suited to their partner, like Ella Cruz, while others are contextualized by weird story arcs. Like who would fall in love with annoying bureaucratic lady? Her character's the kind of person you would find on shows like Isumbong mo Kay Tulfo.

The storytelling in this movie is also weird, as if the story decides to fast forward through character arcs to save some time. Remember annoying bureaucratic lady from the previous paragraph? Surprise, she's now kinda a thing with Jack Reid, and our resident boi now knows a bit of Tagalog. (Personal opinion: I prefer paring him with the ex) The film also prides itself on some lo fi filmmaking, which I'm not even aware is a thing. The Biggest EDM Festival in the Philippines? A backyard party with like fifty people. A big deal talent show? A small event in a closed room with only three contestants.

Ultimately, I really can't hate on this movie, because it's not really geared for me, it's for fans. It's not very good or anything, it's just... there. Squad Goals gets a pink star cut out of cartolina saying "you tried."

Cinefilipino 2018; Excuse Me Po. Gusto Kita With All My Hypothalamus

Hilda is a con artist who uses her acting skills to scam people out of money. She does this to pay for her husband, who is suffering from Parkinson's disease. Even though she gains an unpopular reputation from her activities, she perseveres anyway. When she scams one too many people, a documentary crew discovers her and delves into her life story.

Conceptually, Excuse Me Po examines the very notion of what acting is. In a way, all actors are conmen - they are trying to make you believe they are someone else. The relationship of actors and audience is a transaction, as actors give their performance to gain accolades, respect and money, while the audience receives a good show for payment sent. But in framing this transaction as a scam, the balance between performer and audience skews. If used in a negative way, this relationship ultimately breaks down.

The film also operates on a broader sense. Ruel, the filmmaker, is obviously an avatar for Excuse Me Po's director, Ronald Batallones. There's a sense that parts of the film are hewn from the director's own life story, with the film within a film mirroring the film in which it is contained. The way with which it depicts the blurring of lines between filmmaker and subject reminds me of the films of the late Francis Pasion, whose dramas often slid into the documentary form. Like acting, film too is deception, with the filmmaker trying to convince you artifice is reality. In this film, the relationship between documentarian and subject is also depicted as a transaction, and in this case, a positive one, given the film's heartwarming, even schmaltzy ending.

But this conceptual richness is dragged down a bit by a number of shortcomings. The film is awkwardly structured, taking too much time for setup, leaving little time for the story to rush through its multiple threads. It's a little too neat, a little too clean. The 'con' is exposed, revealing the artifice underneath. 

(It's probably better to watch the movie first before reading this review.)

Gusto Kita With All My Hypothalamus deals with the lives of four men as they go through their lives in search of something. Their lives are wildly divergent: one is an assistant at an ukay ukay, the other, a petty thief, then, the proprietor of a used electronics shop, and finally, a college student. But they all have something in common: they are all enamored by a mysterious woman, Aileen (Iana Bernardez), whose very presence changes their lives.

But the film isn't exactly a love story, rather, it is an exploration of desire and loneliness, alluding to the title. It is not the heart that operates in this case, but something more primal: dopamine and serotonin and the powerful lure of oxytocin. Aileen is not a real woman; she is an idea, a catalyst, matter to fill the void in their hearts. She is the externalization of a masculine ideal, giving life to the whims of these poor, pathetic men. Alternatives are offered to some, but are swiftly rejected. And with credit to Bernardez, she exudes charm and sensuality as her character, fitting her personality to the needs of each man.

It's all set in the backdrop of Quiapo, lit by saturated neon lights and dusty alleyways. The filmmakers truly capture the locale's unique allure, creating an aesthetic that fits as the habitat for these men, mirroring their run down, chaotic selves.

But life goes on, and fantasies cannot last. As the last part of the movie seems to tell us, after the hormonal euphoria subsides, reality sets in, with the promise that the melancholy will return, with no assurance that it will be alleviated once more.

Monday, May 14, 2018

Cinefilipino 2018: Hitboy, Matatapang, Mga Asawa ni Rosario, Poon, Shorts B

Bor Ocampo's Hitboy is a strange creature. It follows off the heels of his first feature, Dayang Asu, a pitch-black exploration of oppression and impunity. But Hitboy is a far different creature - it tries to emulate the balance of grimness and comedy that was a feature of one of his short films, EJK. This time, however, the balance tips, and the film ends up too wacky for its own good.

The film is about Alex, a young assassin. After a job that goes terribly awry, he has one last chance to redeem himself. At the same time, however, he has to deal with his sick father and the fact that his girlfriend is now pregnant.

The film uses pigeons as a metaphor of sorts: set free, yet destined to return home to its cage through instinct. Alex's life as a killer may not be one made by conscious choice, but that is his nature, and life (death?) finds a way to keep him in the loop. While he loathes the emotional toll the job takes on him, there's a sense that he is (albeit unconsciously) grateful to his handlers for helping him support his family.

That said, the film's tonal dissonance works to its detriment. Most of the criminals and hooligans in the film are bumbling idiots, and their silliness detracts from the otherwise serious issues the film is trying to grapple with. The film can be funny and it is, to its credit, well acted (in particular, Mon Confiado's performance as an exaggerated version of himself is almost worth the price of admission). In losing the balancing act between blackness and comedy, it thus lacks the very thing it desperately needs to work. 

After losing his fellow comrades in an ambush, Hardrock (Edgar Allan Guzman) begins to see the ghosts of his fallen friends. They each have one final request for him before they move on to their next lives.

The premise of Rod Marmol's Matatapang reminds me of Ron Underwood's Heart and Souls (1993), which operates off a similar premise. In that film, Robert Downey Jr. helps four souls gain closure over their lives. It was a heartwarming, at times corny film, but it works. Matatapang works at the heartstrings in a similar way, but it then takes the emotional thread in a different direction during its last act. While Matatapang doesn't always hit its emotional notes, when it does, it hits really hard. 

The film has a bunch of funny moments, and all throughout there's a nice balance between all the emotional peaks and troughs that these characters go through. Hardrock may be a badass soldier with a cool name, thirsty for death and battle, but his friends teach him that humanity and empathy makes a good soldier into a great one.

The first request is pretty straightforward, and it helps set the emotional tone of the rest of the requests. The second request doesn't hit the target; though I feel it attempts to communicate the fact that in a war, everyone's just fighting for their own causes, there's a reason why some causes (terrorism) aren't worth fighting for. The third request is not unexpected, given how heavily the film hints at it, but its resolution really encapsulates all the good that a soldier can be: selfless and loyal to a fault, taking service towards others over personal interest.

Matatapang isn't a perfect film by any means, but it's a worthwhile watch.

Alpha Habon's Mga Mister ni Rosario operates on an interesting premise: Rosario, a.k.a. Sari (Kate Alejandrino) is the ultimate ascended fangirl, having married the man of her dreams, popular actor Yogi Juan (Joross Gamboa). However, following a horrific accident, Yogi decides to take method acting to extremes by literally becoming the characters he plays, whether it be a priest, a homeless vagrant or a gay man. This premise runs into problems once Sari learns that Yogi's next role is as a serial killer...

Once the cuteness overstays its welcome, it's evident that Mga Mister ni Rosario just doesn't work. The movie is too silly to take seriously, and the premise is crushed under its own weight. Perhaps the film serves as meta-commentary about the boundaries of art and artists, or how the most interesting  and complex of relationships can be borne from folie a deux. Perhaps, Sari and Yogi's relationship mirrors how artists externalize their own neuroses and personal shit into the art that they make, even to the detriment of their own being.

However, the narrative pieces don't really fit well together; the film decides instead to meander into one jokey sequence after another, and the ludicrousness of the situations our characters find themselves in don't help either. I'm not sure if the absurdist tone is deliberate or the unfortunate result of a kitchen sink approach to see what sticks, with the fake doll children or the cosplay or the bizarre nature of Yogi and Sari's relationship. It looks good on paper, but the execution leaves much to be desired. It's the cinematic equivalent of watching a pretty sports car drive off a cliff.

Roni Benaid's Poon shows its flaws from the start: devoted Catholic Claudia (Glydel Mercado) buys a statue from a creepy old woman. Moral lesson: DON'T buy weird statues from old ladies who look at you creepily mere moments after you try to buy them. Claudia then takes this statue to her home where she takes care of it. At the same time, however, people at her parish start dying.

The film operates like a slow burn horror-thriller, if a bit forgettable. It comments on relevant issues: it questions the Catholic practice of having statues in the first place, as it veers very closely to idolatry, while at the same time it also teaches the lesson to reject false gods, religious or otherwise.

The moment where Poon really loses me is during its last act, where a "shocking" twist changes everything. It's probably one of the most incomprehensible endings to any film I've seen this year. I had mental images of El Kabong, the guitar bonging horse after watching that last act. It creates a paradox between the supernatural elements and a real world explanation of all the events, and it makes several character actions inconsistent and baffling.

God doesn't always answer prayers, sure. This was once instance of that. I prayed for a good movie and I got 2/3 of a forgettable movie and 1/3 hilarity.

***

Cinefilipino Shorts B Short Shorts Reviews

.raw is pretty straightforward in its message, though I'm not completely sure it communicates the rawness (pardon the pun) of real relationships as well as I'd hoped, as we see more of the glossy edited version in this film instead.

Gabi ng Kababalaghan's aesthetic clearly apes the legendary Magandang Gabi Bayan Halloween specials of ages past, and it does so extremely well. The story itself is pretty light, and things can get really silly, but this one's all about the retro/nostalgic feel.

I was on board with Lasingtunado until the actual fight started and things got a little too silly and corny for my taste. It mostly works.

Amusin Pa's depiction of a childhood crush is really, really sweet, if a bit too light. Elora Espano is lovely and charming as always.

Duyan ng Alon ends with a little twist that made me want to watch the film again, and that's something. It's interesting stuff.

Ate, Kuya, Gusto Kong Kape takes a clever premise into a claustrophobic space and makes it work really well. On the technical side, there were some times when the framerate would dip but I'm not sure if it was a technical problem or something deliberate.

and finally, Siyudad sa Bulawan shines a light on the plight of gold miners in Mt. Diwalwal in Compostela valley. In its short running time, the film explores the complex situation between the miners who only want to feed their families despite the very real danger of death, and the environmental repercussions that such activities can wreak on the environment. And that is something worth noting.

Saturday, May 12, 2018

Cinefilipino 2018: Delia and Sammy

At the start, Delia and Sammy feels like one of many similar films about the elderly, such as 1st Ko Si 3rd (2014), Lorna (2014) and last year's Paki. The storytelling at this point is imperfect and subtle, but it generally gets the point across. As the movie goes on, however, it becomes quite evident that Delia and Sammy are not the most likeable of characters. Sammy (Jaime Fabregas) in particular is more than a handful: he is a serial philanderer, he is strict and chauvinistic, he has a homophobic streak and his cantankerousness is only exacerbated by his dementia. Delia, on the other hand, is an actress whose star has faded, best known for her roles as a kontrabida (mirroring the career of her actress Rosemarie Gil.) At her worst, Delia can be haughty and self absorbed, using her acting talents to fool people and take advantage of neighbors and other strangers.

In any other film, Delia and Sammy would be the antagonists, creating misery and pain for the people around them. Indeed, as we learn more about Delia and Sammy's past, that's the role they have been playing for so long. But in this film, we are made to empathize (or at least sympathize) with them. And here is where the cleverness of the film emerges. We all know what happens to heroes and saints when they retire and grow old: they live happily ever after, they are treated gently till their last breath, and they are remembered fondly, with the support and love of friends and family. But what happens to the villains? Who loves and supports them when they grow old, are tired and worn out? Are they redeemable or worthy of love and redemption? Is there anyone capable of loving someone so heavily flawed? 

And in the end, though the execution is not as clean as it should be, this cleverness pays off. Delia and Sammy explores one particular side of growing old: that moment when one looks at the life they've lived and see all of the scars they've inflicted on everyone else. While she probably wasn't as active in causing physical and emotional pain as Sammy, their actions weigh more heavily on Delia, since she doesn't have the privilege of forgetting. In the critical junction at the end of their lives where they need the most support, they have none, the consequence of a life full of bad decisions. The emotions behind these moments are varied and palpable - one can't help but think that both Delia and Sammy are complicit in their previous deeds, but one looks at the here and now and sees Delia, disintegrating from the inside, and Sammy, a shell of the man he once was, and pity takes over.

The film turns into a road trip, and the fact that it's set during Christmas turns it into a twisted take on the nativity story, where the sojourners are more Judas than Joseph. They are accompanied by Roger (Nico Antonio), a security guard who finds in Delia and Sammy the parents he never knew, and perhaps the dynamic goes the other way around as well.

The film ends with a clip of Celso Ad Castillo's Burlesk Queen (1977), where Rosemarie Gil played a supporting role as Virgie Nite. In that film, Virgie was a misunderstood character, not exactly a kontrabida in the traditional sense of the word; she was the former star of a burlesque show whose recalcitrant ways and alcoholism led to her firing and replacement. Delia and Sammy are no saints, and the film knows that, allowing us to examine them fully as people. At the end I imagined Delia as an older Virgie, and while one may imagine a miserable ending for the villain, here she is not alone and unloved; love is here, even underneath the blackness and rot.

Friday, May 04, 2018

Reviews April-May 2018: DOTGA, Single/Single

I'm going to cut to the chase here: is Da One That Ghost Away a good movie? 

Nope.

It's corny, cheap fun at best, disposable dreck at worst. But there's something about the movie that still manages to entertain audiences - the screening I attended was accompanied by raucous laughter from the largely senior citizen crowd. 

The film's about Carmel (Kim Chiu) and Jeje (Ryan Bang), a duo of fake ghost hunters who scam people by performing fake exorcisms. When the handsome and mysterious JACK COLmenares (Enzo Pineda) recruits their gang to exorcise a bunch of spirits from a legit haunted house, shit begins to hit the proverbial fan. If only Carmel could awaken her legit spiritual powers...

If you noticed the strange capitalization of Jack Colmenares' name in the preceding paragraph, and you got the joke (ha ha), then you more or less know the kind of jokes you're in for when watching Da One That Ghost Away. This is the kind of humor I'd thought had become extinct, the kind of humor that solely exists in bad MMFF movies. But I'm apparently out of touch.

I'd go on about how some of the jokes don't really land, and how the romance between Carmel and Jeje doesn't really work. But I won't waste your time. Da One That Ghost Away is a film that knows its audience and delivers in spades. Perhaps in that regard, the film pays dividends to its core audience, and you can't say that about a lot of local films these days.

Single/Single: Love is Not Enough begins with Joee (Shaina Magdayao) and Joey (Matteo Guidicelli) separately professing their love to each other during a camping trip. It takes a while to get used to the complicated setup, as the film begins in medias res, but the gist of it is: Joee and Joey are currently a couple, but  this is complicated by the fact that Joee got pregnant by another guy, Steve, before said couple materialized. 

At first this was confusing to me until I found out that this movie is actually the continuation of a popular two-season comedy-drama on cable TV, called Single Single (for those curious, both seasons are available via streaming through the Philstar website.) The original series had a very fresh concept, at least for local television: it chronicles the various problems that millennials face as they begin their adult lives.

The movie extends that concept and shows us the various trials and tribulations newly minted adults face when they try to raise a baby. It looks like the writers did a good job on this end, as they delve into issues such as financial security, difficulties in conception, parental support systems, and the extra complication of being a (technically) single mom raising a kid. As I've said before in my review of Ang Pambansang Third Wheel, single parents often don't get the exposure they deserve in popular media. It's all refreshing, relevant, and decently acted.

On the other hand, Single/Single's main problem is evident from the very start of the movie: the film was obviously patched together from what I can only assume was an aborted third season of the show. Although one can muddle through the movie with little or no knowledge of the show, doing so makes the movie feel incomplete; this film barely survives in a vacuum. Various transitions give the impression that the movie was stitched together from the corpses of 2-3 TV episodes. And the translation from a serial TV series to a feature length film doesn't work out very well - the movie decides to plateau once the conflicts are established, the storyline composed of a seemingly endless array of problems for Joee and Joey with little to no resolution at the end. It feels like a slice of real life, but it doesn't quite fit into the structure of a movie. Although a few lines of dialogue makes the cliffhanger ending a little bit hopeful, it leans toward the possibility of a follow-up episode that may never come.

I do hope that Single/Single continues in some form or another - there's still a lot more to explore in Joee and Joey's lives. It's a concept that bears a lot of promise; I can only hope someone picks this up and does a continuation someday.

Thursday, May 03, 2018

Netflix and Chill

Time for some Netflix and Chill.

Far removed from the days of cute characters for cuteness' sake, Sanrio has tried to create cute characters that hit home with consumers in more ways than one. For example, one of their latest creations, Gudetama, is basically a lazy walking egg yolk with a butt, the poster child of contemporary social attitudes (and believe me with this one, I procrastinated several times trying to write this).

In this case, one of their latest characters is Aggressive Retsuko, or Aggretsuko, a red panda that embodies the modern working woman. Retsuko is a red panda who works as an Office Lady or OL. Her job entails mostly thankless, low level clerical work, and the position offers little chance for promotion; the workers are expected to leave and become housewives once someone decides to marry them, a sort of limbo with sexist overtones. Retsuko has to deal with all this, along with asshole colleagues, a (literal) sexist pig for a boss, and other work and social pressures. Retsuko lets off steam by singing death metal at karaoke every night after work. (Her name is even a play on words; the Retsu, or 烈  kanji in her name means "violent" or "extreme".)

It's the kind of social rage that is immediately relateable for anyone who has ever held a shitty job, especially millennial women in today's society. Far from being a show that merely exists to promote cute things,  there's actually a level of social commentary going on in here, and it's amazing. The show acts as a criticism of social work attitudes and unreasonable expectations towards women and it highlights various other issues like office politics, everyday microaggressions between coworkers, workplace relationships and workplace ennui.

At 10 episodes of 15 minutes each, it's a breeze to binge in one go. It won me over easily, and it's a show I'd wholeheartedly recommend. Now excuse me while I sing some Cannibal Corpse.

Out of curiosity I watched Brillante Mendoza's Amo. There's a level of technical accomplishment behind it, and the film is generally better produced than any other local TV production out there.

But that's where the praise ends. There's much in Amo that doesn't pan out, and it has nothing to do with its skewed worldview.

The series is divided into two stories - the first deals with a high school kid who works as a drug runner, while the second is about a botched police operation involving a Japanese drug lord. Anyone with half a brain cell can see that the two stories are fictionalized versions of true events - the first story arc draws comparisons to Kian delos Santos, while the second is inspired by the kidnapping and killing of Jee Ick-joo. Let's not forget that the real people behind these stories have not been proven to have been connected with the drug trade at all - and here, their fictional counterparts are depicted as being fully entrenched in the drug trade. Artistic licence and all, perhaps, but it still feels quite off at best, insensitive at worst, an awful perversion of 'found story'.

The characters of Amo serve as little more than cardboard cutouts: their motivations don't go further than "drugs are everywhere, so I might as well do this." The dirty cops involved in the second arc are motivated by greed, so at least there's a little bit more nuance there, but it's a far cry from the depictions of gray morality in Mendoza's previous films. There's nothing in the series that is the least bit compelling, and halfway through the series, it was obvious to me that getting through it was becoming something of a chore. 

For someone who prides himself as a storyteller, Mendoza's storytelling in Amo can get horribly inconsistent at times. A character is seemingly killed by gunshot in one episode, only to miraculously show up in the season finale, with no indication as to how they survived. Another character is shown to be dismembered during one scene (an unintentional callback to Mendoza's Kinatay, perhaps?) and during the next scene said character's intact body is being placed inside a body bag.

Speaking of Kinatay, comparing that movie to Amo only highlights how much Mendoza's depiction of reality has transformed: in his previous films, the protagonists possess their share of good and bad traits, and some of these movies showed how evil can be brought out from the best of people if the wrong stars align. In Amo, this is hardly the case - there are good guys (no matter how bad some of their actions might seem) and there are bad guys, i.e. guys involved in drugs. Most deaths in the series are due to drug syndicates executing their own, or people who fight back during police operations. Depictions of activities that highlight the drug war - operation Tokhang, drug lists and other police operations - are mostly done in a positive light, because obviously there is no such thing as a
 wrongful arrest, or errors in a foolproof drug list, or something like that. In the world of Amo, those things cannot possibly exist.

But in a free society, artists can release whatever they want. They can release whatever depiction of subjective reality they so choose. And that's where the appeal of Amo will probably come from to many people, especially those in favor of the current drug war. In a way, through this series I've come to understand them, that they are fueled by a sense of idealism, foolish as some may think. It's an idealism that's admirable in its own way, because I've come to be too cynical with the world at large. Just when Amo premiered, Mendoza tweeted this image:


In my opinion, Amo may not be as "truthful to the issues that surround us" as Mendoza thinks, but it presents a comfortable illusion. Because if the world is clearly defined by black and white, if the world is clearly divided into good guys who can do no wrong and bad guys who are always 100% guilty, then it becomes easier to live with it - because the alternative is perhaps too hard to fathom.