The Trigonal Hyper Mega Destruction Review 2000

When I was a little boy, my father used to rent tons of action movies on VHS. These movies weren't just Stallone and Schwarzenegger films, but also Van Damme and Seagal films. Occasionally, however, he would rent something really obscure (at the time, anyway) like Gymkata or Bloodsport III (there are actually three sequels to Bloodsport). Since then, I kind of have a soft spot for cheesy, over the top ridiculous action films.

The Trigonal is one of these films, at least in spirit. It's the kind of testosterone laced action fest that kinda died out 20 to 30 years ago. It's the kind of bizarre ultramasculine dick fest that makes you want to cock punch babies into the stratosphere and sing America the Beautiful before you load up you AR-15 and shoot up a room full of baby seals*. It is by no means good, but it is definitely enjoyable for people of certain tastes. Since it's probably gone from cinemas as of this writing, let me tell you all about this film, in the hopes that you'll get to see it someday.

The Trigonal stars a number of esteemed martial artists, like protagonist Jason Casa, played by actor-martial artist and Asian Fabio Ian Ignacio. He is joined by Wushu champion Sarah Chang, who plays one of my favorite characters in the film. But we'll talk about her later. Since some of these guys aren't actually actors, they aren't always good or humanly believable. The acting prowess of these martial artists vary from great to acceptable to Samurai Cop levels of hamminess. They are balanced out by local actors such as all around cutie Rhian Ramos, versatile Epy Quizon, uhh... Christian Vasquez and veteran actor Monsour Del Rosario.

So the Trigonal is about this dude Jason Casa who has recently won a gold medal at some random martial arts tournament. Like Son Goku from Dragon Ball Z, the dude REALLY loves fighting. But, his young, pretty wife Annie (Rhian Ramos) wants him to hang up the gloves. Or the belt. Or the jockstrap. Or whatever the hell he wears while fighting. Annie is the most levelheaded and rational character in this movie, so that means she will have to be taken out of the equation pretty fast, and that's exactly what happens.

Sleazy crime boss/drug lord Henry Tan (Gus Liem) wants Jacob to join his super ultra mega death tournament, the Trigonal. What's the difference between the Trigonal and every other illegal underground death tournament? The fighting area is a triangle. That's it. Henry Tan is flanked by two ladies who look like the Asian version of Chyna (RIP). These amazons look so strong, they can probably break me in half and drink the creamy filling. Anyway, back to the story. Henry Tan sends one of his minions, Allen (Christian Vasquez), to convince Jacob to join the tournament. 

Now I'm aware Vasquez is a decent actor; I've seen him in commercials and TV. But his performance here takes the cake and crosses into a different dimension.With the character of Allen, Christian Vasquez acts like his blood has been completely replaced with Monster energy drink, delivering Allen's lines in a weird cadence, like if someone was acting out the text in a mocking spongebob meme.

aRe YOu rEAdY tO fiGhT iN tHe tRiGoNAl!?!?!?

Allen takes the message to Jacob; thanks to his wife's advice, Jacob declines. Allen goes back to his boss like an idiot and tells Henry Tan, who banishes him from his island or something. Pissed off, Allen takes revenge, beats up and rapes Annie into a coma and kills Jacob's fellow teacher (Epy Quizon). Now that the professional actors have been taken out of the picture, it's time for some top notch ham.

It also bears mentioning that when the doctor talks to Jacob about his wife Annie, he refers to her as "the female patient." Maximum lulz to the doctors that do that in real life.

Meanwhile, Jacob is being seduced into joining the Trigonal by this sexy lady with a vaguely Eastern European accent. He's kinda convinced but still needs a bit more convincing. She gives him a really old Nokia phone, instructing him to dial 666 and call that number in case he wants to join. But the whole attacking the dojo, beating his wife and killing his friend pretty much seals the deal.

Haha not really. Jacob spends his time getting wasted at a bar, when he overhears Allen talking about the shit he did at Jacob's dojo. Jacob attacks Allen and his gang, and the resulting scuffle results in Allen's premature (and hilarious, tbh) death. Jacob is rescued by Mei (Sarah Chang), the daughter of the head of the local Chinese temple. While I am sad that Allen's gone, Mei's more than enough to fill up the gap. Her character is written like a 9 year old's dream girl: martial arts expert, genius MIT student, snarky yet quirky at the same time.

"They even call me Kung Fu Panda, 'cause I'm Chinese!!!" Mei tells Jacob. I love this character already.

Mei and the rest of her Wushu temple nurses Jacob back to health, and when Jacob returns to his ruined dojo, he meets a manly policeman (Vincent Soberano, who also directed this film) who dares Jacob to use his MMA on him, so that Jacob can taste his MM... his 9mm, that is.

I'm not sure if that exchange has any innuendo or what.

Jacob tells Mei that he will be joining the tournament, but only to bring it down via a buybust operation. He tells her that the competitors under the employ of Henry Tan use a dangerous new drug that turns them into super strong fighters, a drug that he describes is a combination of "Shabu, Crystal Meth and TYLENOL."

Let's just conveniently forget the fact that 1) Shabu IS Crystal Meth and 2) none of those ingredients do anything other than make you high (and maybe sleepy, depending on the type of Tylenol involved.)

So what is the name of this new drug? Something fierce or scary, like Alligator or Raptor? Something chemical sounding, perhaps? Mei asks Jacob this question. Jacob answers with, and I'm not shitting you here, that the new drug is called... NEW DRUG.

I HAVE THE BEST DRUGS, THE BEST DRUG NAMES, BELIEVE ME

My mind is blown.

There is one downside to using NEW DRUG - it really does a job on the kidneys of the people taking the drug. So the rest of the fights really boil down to our protagonists spamming kidney punches until they win. Despite that, Jacob tells Mei that he has to learn the secret of "penetrating energy," which will allow him to penetrate his opponents with a stronger, harder force, repeatedly. This leads him to seek out a retired sensei (Monsour Del Rosario) who teaches him Tapado, a variant of Arnis with longer sticks. That's just what Jacob needs: longer sticks and more powerful penetration.

After the requisite training montage, Jacob and Mei head over to the secret island where the Trigonal is being held. Mei brings along a bunch of fortune cookies, because she's Chinese, duh. Of course, fortune cookies were invented by Japanese Americans and not the Chinese, but let's just conveniently forget that fact.

The fighters are greeted by Henry Tan and his mooks, as well as a troupe of cultural dancers. Those guys must've had balls of steel to accept such a weird gig. Henry Tan coordinates with his drug lab and his QUITE OBVIOUSLY OLD head scientist to help finish the drug shipment in time. Or something.

The fights start. There is a little person in there accompanying the MC for some reason. As it turns out, he's the ref. Mei remarks, "that Midget is distracting!" Her words, not mine lol. When Jacob faces off against Tan's #1 dude, that henchman begins the fight by kicking aside our vertically challenged ref like a soccer ball, which of course made me laugh, which means I'm going to hell when I die. Jacob eventually wins by - you guessed it - spamming kidney punches until the opponent rage quits from life and dies. Meanwhile, the police swarm the compound as the fights are going on, even managing to fight with a drug-enhanced OBVIOUSLY OLD head scientist. They finally arrive at the fighting area, and in the commotion, Tan escapes. Jacob and co. give chase, with Mei fighting against Tan's two amazon mooks, and Jacob facing against Tan himself.

Jacob and Henry Tan face off, but of course we know Jacob will win because of his big dick penetrating energy. Oh, and kidney punches. Jacob finishes the fight by stuffing money into Henry Tan's mouth. By this time the hilarity had caused my sides to leave the solar system and enter interstellar space.

Jacob is sad that he didn't get to win the Trigonal's $1,000,000 prize fair and square, but tough 9mm cop gives him Tan's money anyway, even if, you know, that money could be used as evidence in a trial or something. Jacob's like 'kay whatever, and takes the money. Then we get a number of goodbyes and Jacob spends time with his wife for about 5 more seconds because that's probably all that's left of the filmmakers' Rhian Ramos budget.

The Trigonal is so hardcore, its penetrating dick energy blasted out of the movie screen and fornicated with my eye sockets, leaving me pregnant with several bald muscular children. It's the kind of film that I would definitely watch with a bunch of drunk friends. You know, I'd probably watch it with sober friends too, if they're fans of this kind of shit.

*Present Confusion does not condone these horrible acts., but admits that dick punching babies into the stratosphere may have some minor comedic value.

Viddsee Juree Philippines 2018 Finalists Short Shorts Reviews

Last year, we talked about the finalists for the Viddsee Juree Philippines competition, and it contained a number of really good short films (some of which were my favorite films of that year). This year, we get a really strong lineup of short films, and you have the chance to watch them for free! Aside from the 10 competition films, there are literally dozens of non-competition films that you can see there, for free.

click here to go and watch some pretty cool films~

On the other hand, you can also watch these films in a proper theater and auditorium (complete with guest speakers!) You can do just that, and that's going to happen from 26th - 29th September 2018, at De La Salle - College of St. Benilde, SDA Cinema (12th Floor) and FDCP Cinematheque. Screening schedule and other details are at viddseeph2018.peatix.com.

So in the meantime, let's take a look at the finalists of Viddsee Juree Philippines 2018.

Viddsee Juree Philippines 2018 Short Shorts Reviews

Although it's based on a relatively simple premise, Ginhawa delivers a knockout punch because of a remarkable lead performance from Christian Lat, who also directed the film. The punches and fight choreography look convincing, and it's a pretty decent overall package.

The sole horror movie finalist, Ah reminds one of films like The Babadook, where a sinister book foretells evil and harm to the people unfortunate enough to harm them. It feels and looks like a conventional horror film. But the film is also a treatise on latchkey children, raised by parents who are forced to neglect raising their children in order to earn money.

As Time Flows By (Pag-agos ng Panahon) is a simple and artful story about a woman and her coming to terms with her own sexuality. There are religious and societal factors at play here, and when understanding does eventually come at the end, it's tragically too little, too late.

Susing reminds me of this year's So Connected, in that both films talk about the impact social media has on the lives of people, and how viral stories often lack context. It starts out funny and ends in a particularly heartbreaking moment.

The Lessons of the Night (Ang Mga Turo ng Gabi) is probably one of my favorites of this very strong batch of films. It manages to pack a lot of things in a very short timeframe without oversaturating the narrative too much. This is the kind of story that can be expanded, but is generally fine as it is.

The biggest enemy in Divine XY is bureaucracy, and this film indicts bureaucracies everywhere as slow, lumbering and insensitive. Thanks to a small clerical mistake, the lead character of this film undergoes all sorts of indignities just to set things right. It's damning stuff, and it should be.

Stand Up is the lightest of all the short films in this set, as it tells the Pygmalion-esque story of a lonely, unsuccessful comedian who falls in love with his own subconscious creation. It's hilarious fun, and if the director manages to make this kind of tone and humor with a feature length film, it could be a promising thing. Kudos also to Karl Medina for delivering a great deadpan performance.

You Are The Star to My Night (Ikaw ang Tala, Ako ang Gabi) tells the story of an aging movie star who visits her old showbiz rival. While there are some imperfections in the acting, the film manages to create something genuinely affecting, while being a critique of the showbiz industry (with its propensity to fabricate conflict and relationships) and a meditation on loneliness.

The most technically proficient film in this set is In the Name of the Father (Sa Ngalan ng Ama), about a priest who does shady stuff and a boy who calls him on his shenanigans. When watching this, take a close look at the characters' clothes: the priest, steeped in black robes, and the boy, wearing white (at first.) In showing the contrast of values between the priest and the boy, it sheds light on the inherent hypocrisies of human nature and blind faith.

And finally, Igme and Gani are both children who find meaning in each other, but are soon separated by the realities of life. It's quite interesting stuff, though I wish the film had provided a little more context and backstory.

That's it for this year's Viddsee Juree Finalists. I haven't even scratched the surface, because there are several times as many non-competition entries in this year's program. Enjoy, take a look at the Viddsee site or app, and see you at the movies!

This Week in Pinoy Cinema (Sept '18): Abay Babes, Nakalimutan Ko Nang Kalimutan Ka

Goldie (Roxanne Barcelo with buck teeth) is getting married. She invites her old friends to her wedding. Perla (Kylie Versoza) is a goth turned nun-in-training, Ruby (Cristine Reyes) is a doctor who is tired of being a mistress, Emerald (Nathalie Hart) is a model who keeps on loving the wrong guys, and there's also Jade (Meg Imperial), Goldie's friend from the US who has an agenda of her own.

Abay Babes is the kind of sexy comedy that would probably be in vogue around 2003, but doesn't really hold up today. It's loud and noisy, it's full of crass humor that doesn't land (it's more like crashing than anything else) and it's tedious in parts. But to be fair it's occasionally funny, it does manage to reach some nice moments near the end, and there are some very nice performances in here (Meg Imperial and Nathalie Hart are my personal favorites).

The film is structured as a roadtrip, and its best moments are when it calms down from its mania and attempts to delve deeper into each of its characters' insecurities in life. Its funniest moments happen when it tries to subvert expectations and stays true to its characters. Maybe some of these expectations and gender standards are dated as all hell, but at least they're consistent. Kinda.

The film's climax hinges on a non-issue that would be resolved in five minutes had people just stopped and listened to each other, but the film is more concerned with making noise than anything else. There's fun to be had in Abay Babes, but it tends to get lost in the noise.

Jaz (Alex Gonzaga) can't get over her love affair with Migs (Vin Abrenica). She decides to take action into her own hands by erasing her memories of him. But does she have the cojones (and common sense) to do so?

Nakalimutan Ko Nang Kalimutan Ka's story of a pseudoscientific procedure that helps people get over their loved ones reminds one of 2004's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. But the former fails where the latter succeeds because of how it elects to tell its story.

It's a fact that the concept of hugot has crept its way into the plots of local romantic movies. Some of them still manage to be effective, and some don't. In a sense, this film can be considered a companion piece to last year's The Write Moment in how it tries to deconstruct hugot stories. For the most part, Nakalimutan Ko Nang Kalimutan Ka plays hugot for laughs. There's a bit of self-awareness behind the whole enterprise, and that part is quite refreshing. But by focusing entirely on the structure and form of hugot, it neglects exploring the whys of hugot, and the intent behind it. Jaz and Alex's breakup is intentionally left vague, and while we see them during happier times as a couple, we don't really see much of the impetus behind their breakup, as opposed to Eternal Sunshine's couple, who we see was getting toxic from the beginning. And even then, Jaz and Migs' relationship feels pretty mundane, and the film doesn't give a lot of reasons why these two should get back together. Because of its extreme self-obsession with hugot, the film starts to go in circles trying to prove a point that doesn't need proving: that breaking up with someone is sad, and that people have difficulty moving on. it doesn't ask why people get so attached with other people, and why people break up in the first place.

A nice contrast to this would have been the character of Kimpoy (Jerald Napoles), who has a hugot story of his own: he's in love with Jaz, but he's unfortunately been friendzoned by Jaz, who is focused solely on her doomed love. To show Kimpoy undergoing the procedure himself would have created a nice symmetry with Jaz's own situation. It would have emphasized the inherent selfishness of hugot stories seen in films like The Write Moment. But the film elects not to do that; Kimpoy is all but forgotten in the film's last moments.

And it's the film's ending that proves to be the thing that topples everything the film was building towards. For a film about moving on, it doesn't do a very good job at getting its characters to move on, as Jaz is forced to interact once again with Migs, as if to tease the possibility of them getting back together. It completely renders the movie pointless, but perhaps that's the point: all these lamentations, these songs, these spoken word poems about a love you cannot have are completely irrelevant in the greater scheme of things. And if that's the case, I guess the film works somehow.

Last Week in Pinoy CInema (Sept '18): The Hopeful Romantic, Wander Bra

By the time this review gets out, The Hopeful Romantic is probably gone from cinemas, and that's a shame, because I think it was actually a really funny and pleasant film. It's by no means a masterpiece, but it's far better than some people make it out to be. It's a movie that's technically not a love story, but a story about two people who want to fall in love, but can't.

Jess (Pepe Herrera) hasn't had a girlfriend all his life, so it's understandable that he falls into a trap when Veronica (Ritz Azul) comes on to him, thinking that he's loaded. Jess then decides (foolishly) to keep the illusion alive  At the same time, Veronica (if that is really her real name) decides to use Pepe to further her own agenda.

The Hopeful Romantic then becomes a movie about two conmen trying to con each other. When this loopy relationship begins, it is up to the viewers to decide whether there is true love between Jess and Veronica, though the movie ultimately takes us there. Jess does the morally questionable things he does out of desperation to connect with someone else; Veronica does what she does out of desperation as well, but in the sense that she wants to break out of her current situation.

The Hopeful Romantic shows what can happen to people when they try to live outside their means in an socioeconomic system that is stacked against them. Instead of an idealistic vision of moving upward, the movie makes it clear how these two are living an unsustainable lie. Things work themselves out, as mainstream films often do, but I have to give credit where credit's due. This is probably the best local movie that went under the radar this month, and I hope people get a chance to see it again.

The plot and construction of Joven Tan's Wander Bra reeks of the kind of film that would probably be shown at the MMFF, the kind of corporate-sponsored, product-shilling special effects laden superhero comedy that escapist-seeking audiences mindlessly consume during that festival of hollow tripe. The nice thing about it is about how self-aware it is. It's knows it's kitsch and gaudy and just runs with it. This almost meta self awareness reminds me of the best Joven Tan film, Echoserang Frog, whose depiction of a failed independent movie production proved to be genuinely interesting. However, Wander Bra has the humor and nothing else, which proves to be its own downfall.

The film is about a bra with magical powers that turns Barbie (Kakai Bautista) into a superheroine (Myrtle Sarrosa.) She falls in love with a guy (Zeus Collins) who is torn between loving Barbie and Wander Bra.

Here comes the part where the film falters. Wander Bra sets up all these plotlines, but doesn't really do anything with them. It is instead content with making joke after joke, treating the whole thing like a set at a comedy bar. It's nice for about 10 minutes, after that it becomes a bit tedious. And even if one were to take the film as a straight up comedy, not all of the jokes really land.

Wander Bra could have gone self reflexive on how it depicts these MMFF style superheroes, but I'm not sure if the self awareness Tan achieved in Echoserang Frog was deliberate. Maybe in the sequel? Just kidding.

ToFarm Film Festival 2018 | Festival Report

What a strange, strange film this is. The first thirty or so minutes of Carlo Catu's Mga Anak ng Kamote is confusing but intriguing at the same time. There is manipulation of both image and sound, the frame shifting its size to reflect the character's state of mind,  the sound shifting from crystal clear to canned and muddled, as if trapped inside an old, decaying film from the seventies.

The film amalgamates satire and science fiction, the sane and insane, things both mundane and absurd. The innocuous sweet potato is portrayed as a dangerous narcotic that threatens to unravel the fabric of society itself. It sounds ridiculous, and it is. But dystopias are inherently absurd, and perhaps the film reflects that absurdity and magnifies it for all to see, as a warning - as dystopias are created despite their absurd nature. And considering we are in the midst of a crackdown on illegal drugs, there's some real world, contemporary resonance here too.

The film also plays with the plasticity of memories. What really happened to our main character, Iyong (Katrina Halili)? Who is this mysterious old lady who shares her name? Why does this strange relationship create a weird time loop? I'd by lying if I told you I know what's actually going on, and the film deserves a second watch if only for that.

There are a few minor technical hiccups. The subtitles have a number of errors, and at times Katrina Halili's makeup is too orange (though considering the amount of carotenoids in sweet potatoes, this may be deliberate.) Nevertheless, Mga Anak ng Kamote is the kind of film that's very hard to pin down. I hope it finds more mileage in the festival and arthouse circuit.

At first, the rhythms of Tanabata's Wife threw me off, as it was a bit atypical compared to what I am accustomed to in local cinema. But when I saw the simplicity behind its creation, the visual symmetry, and the frames shot from a low angle camera, as if seated on a tatami mat, I realized the genius behind the construction of this film: it borrows from Japanese sensibilities, from Ozu and Kurosawa, to reflect a story whose melding of cultures is seen in its heroine's name: Fas-ang, a "crossing of boundaries." As a literary work, it is a story rooted deep in history and culture, its author the son of a Japanese father and an Ibaloi mother.

Set in the 1920's, Tanabata (Miyuki Kamimura) is an immigrant farmer from Japan who settles in the Mountain Province. This was apparently common at the time; Japanese workers were commissioned by the Americans to build infrastructure. Tanabata falls in love with a local woman, Fas-ang (Mai Fanglayan), and the two of them get married. Their marriage is anything but typical: they are wed without ceremony, both husband and wife refusing to accede to norms. This rebellion is particularly resonant considering that in Japanese culture, to conform is the rule. But love transcends rules and cultural norms, creating something unique and beautiful. However, traditions seem to creep back into the story, and Fas-ang retreats to the safety of the city lights of Baguio and the allure of American silent films. She is then attracted by a fellow tribesman who convinces her to leave Tanabata, which leaves him despondent over her departure.

The film is exquisitely framed and crafted; the pace is slow and deliberate, restrained yet expressive in the words it elects not to express. Fas-ang is depicted not as an unthinking savage, but as a strong-minded, independent woman who is not constrained by tribe or normalcy. There is a hesitancy with both characters to cross cultures, stemming from either a reluctance or an inability to understand the cultural norms of the other. But relationships are built on compromise, and it is that notion that ultimately overcomes any misgivings.

The final frames of this lovely film reflect not Fas-ang's name, but Tanabata's: his namesake is a star festival that celebrates the plight of star-crossed lovers. These final images fade to black until we see only Tanabata-as-Hikoboshi's tear-laden eyes, like stars twinkling in the darkness of the night, guiding our lovers home.

Piyo (Jefferson Bringas) is a member of the Talaandig tribe of Bukidnon. He is slated to be the next Datu or leader of their tribe, but a yearning for freedom leads him to leave his village and make a living as a musician. Still, the land of his birth calls to him.

There's a certain musical quality to Julienne Ilagan's Kauyagan that is fairly entertaining. The film is peppered with songs with both a contemporary and traditional flair. The film is also a story about how Lumad traditions are fading as the younger generation leave for greener pastures, an idea that is much in line with recent films such as The Chanters (2017), albeit with a more traditional storytelling approach.

However, the film proves to be a bit scattershot in its approach.  On the whole, the film is pretty rough. The plot takes several detours and changes direction during the first half and only really picks up once Piyo returns to his home village. Conversations are shot without much coverage, and the general pace is pretty languid.

I appreciate the intent behind the film, but Kauyagan's execution doesn't always match its ambition. Still, it's worth it if only to see a story about our indigenous tribes, groups that continue to be underrepresented in local media even today.

For a film festival about farming, ToFarm is home to the most number of local science fiction films made in the past five years. Alimuom is perhaps one of its most ambitious: in the near future, the Philippines has banned farming altogether in part due to the toxic environment. Diwa (Ina Feleo) is a scientist whose work extensively involves plants. She is contacted by the government to help identify a number of mysterious seedlings, leading to some pretty interesting revelations.

The film's social science fiction approach is similar to last year's Instalado, which establishes a futuristic world whose society closely mirrors our own. The Filipinos of Alimuom have elected to leave the country in droves, opting to carve out a life in off-world colonies as Outerspace Filipino Workers (OFWs.) The ones who are left behind are burdened with a repressive, bureaucratic and controlling government and a hypercapitalist system. 

And like Instalado, while there is extensive worldbuilding (and considering the low budget, impressive visuals to match), it suffers the same problems as that film. There is a revelation near the end of the film that is not really surprising, but the implications behind it are world-shattering if used correctly. However, the film doesn't really do anything with this revelation, instead opting to leave the world as it is. The film gives its characters the chance to change the world, but this choice lingers in limbo. Maybe that's the point? Maybe there's a part 2 in the works?

If only for its soaring creative ambition, Alimuom is worth watching. As a fan of science fiction and the worlds they depict, I enjoyed seeing this film, despite its flaws.

In every edition of ToFarm there is that one film that embodies the spirit of the festival the most, and this year, it's Hubert Tibi's 1957. It's a relatively simple film about a group of farmers who work under the rule of a landlord, just as President Ramon Magsaysay prepares to initiate a comprehensive agrarian reform law which would give farmers more rights.

1957 plants many seeds that take sprout later on in the film: a giant cob of corn (discovered through a bout of ilicit sex of all things) becomes a metaphor for rights and ownership. A particular character quirk becomes something more profound later on. And even the film's title becomes somewhat resonant as the film ends.

1957 is not a perfect film. There are parts that are roughly constructed, and the film tends to meander in its first hour (I was prepared to call this film 'horny farmer boiz'). However, once the conflict between the farmers and the landlord is firmly established, things get interesting and poignant. And the film's final frames show the plight of the Filipino farmer as a whole: strong together, and reliant only on each others' strength, and not on those who seek dominion over their lives.

The first sequence of Roman Perez Jr.'s Sol Searching paints its titular character in a not-so-flattering light: as an irascible, strict woman with a huge chip on her shoulder. But as we learn more about the titular Sol as a person, the portrait formed is that of a true contemporary hero, one whose life has touched so many, but due to circumstance is doomed to fade into memory.

After her untimely death, Sol's friend and fellow teacher Lorelei (Pokwang) and student Bugoy (JM Salvado) take Sol's body on a tour in order to find a place to hold a decent wake, and the film takes the shape of a road movie. But they are denied time and again because of many factors. Sol ran afoul of many people - politicians, landowners and other unmentionables - because of her advocacy to help uplift the farming community. Her dedication to her students and the farmers is unwavering, and as the film goes on we slowly piece together what happened to Sol in that first sequence. Salvado and Pokwang are excellent together, and this first part by itself is solid.

The film takes a different direction during its second half, once the actual wake starts and people who know Sol personally begin to arrive. By taking the focus away from Lorelei and Bugoy, the film is weakened, though the place we are eventually taken to isn't bad, just unexpected. From the plight of teachers, the film shifts its focus to the commodification of the dead, depicting a system that allows the dead and the bereaved no place for dignity. In one earlier scene, a funeral parlor operator treats the dead like rungs in a multilevel marketing scheme. Later on, Sol's corpse is made as the epicenter of a gambling operation, similar to films such as Oros (2012) and Purgatoryo (2016).

The film tackles a lot of heavy topics, but it is a comedy, and for the most part, it succeeds. Despite all the darkness and tragedy, there is an undercurrent of hope underneath, that perhaps the seeds Sol planted did take root and grow after all, and the moment of that realization is a seriously affecting moment. Sol Searching is a finely made, uplifting film held up by some top notch performances.

Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral

Jerrold Tarog's follow up to 2015's Heneral Luna, Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral, cannot be any more antipodal compared to its predecessor. While Luna was outwardly loud and furious, full of fire and brimstone, Goyo looks inward, a contemplative, numbing calm before the storm. Even their posters are diametrically opposed: Luna with his tattered, bloody uniform, Goyo, unscathed, with a pristine uniform. The two are heaven and earth, fire and ice. Yet both films manage to interrogate the concepts of heroism and nation in interesting ways.

The film begins days after Luna's death in the previous film. The revolution let by Emilio Aguinaldo (Mon Confiado) is on the run. While the Americans plan to rout Aguinaldo's remaining forces, Gregorio Del Pilar (Paulo Avelino) stays in Pangasinan for five months. These five months, as we come to find out, will be squandered by the revolution, with Aguinaldo and his men twiddling their thumbs as the Americans loom over the horizon. Or perhaps, at least on a subconscious level, the revolution knows it has failed with Luna's death, perhaps even before that.  It's a far more somber work than the more accessible Luna. This period constitutes what, in his book A Question of Heroes, Nick Joaquin calls the revolution's Gotterdammerung, a twilight of the gods. Yet these are false gods, whose grandeur and legacy are taught to us in schools; they are but men who ended up worshiping their own hype, whose follies and flaws as people ultimately doomed them to failure.

In that sense the first half or so of Goyo will feel slower and much more deliberately paced compared to the explosive and often funny action of Luna. In a sense it feels more like the 2004 film Der Untergang (a.k.a. Downfall), that film about the last days of Hitler and his men, where an active denial of reality undercuts the Reich's last days. The Gregorio Del Pilar of this story is far removed from the hero we remember in textbooks: here he is a womanizer, Joaquin's Lord Byron in spirit, content to party and hang out with his brothers and friends rather than prepare for the revolution's Ragnarok. He has turned from a loyal and brave soldier into a person who believes his own legend, whose greatness is thrust upon him forcibly, a greatness that he cannot handle. Del Pilar doubts this legend himself, but throughout the film he uses this denial as a mechanism to cope with the premise of his own mortality.

Perhaps one of the film's faults is that while it elects to show us Del Pilar as he was during the end, it does not show Del Pilar as he was when he was starting out in the Revolution, including the exploits that created his legend. In certain interpretations of the film, it makes the internal struggle incomplete. On the other hand, showing us Del Pilar at his most vain and deluded ties well into what the film is trying to tell us about heroes.

The film ties this internal struggle into the story of our nation itself, comparing Del Pilar's love to the love of country. In fact it could be argued that the true protagonist of the story is Apolinario Mabini (Epi Quizon), who acts as the nation's conscience. His words in the film, taken from his memoirs, ring true even today. Mabini himself undergoes a journey in this film - wracked by the inability to physically effect change, trapped in a paralytic's body, he can only lament and accept the passing of one age into the next. I wouldn't be surprised if Tarog intended this, as he pulled off something similar with 2013's Sana Dati.

The film also challenges and deconstructs the lessons from Luna, in that while we should rise up to help the nation as a whole, we should not do so by glorifying strongmen or false idols. Our feelings do not make us bad people, but we should not be prisoners to our feelings.

The film inevitably moves towards the fateful battle at Tirad Pass, a moment depicted as a glorious moment in other forms of media, perhaps most gaudily in Carlo Caparas' Tirad Pass (1996). But here we see the truth of the situation, we see a defending force with the advantage of terrain overtaken by a tactically superior force in less than six hours; though it is not spelled out overtly, the lowlanders' arrogance and discriminatory nature betrays them in the end. There is no glorious shot of the young general on his steed leading his troops into one last stand - Del Pilar's fall is unceremonious, even mundane. His realization towards heroism comes, but it is tragically not enough. And one scene gets into the core of what the film is trying to say, when Del Pilar is stripped of his clothes and belongings, also a metaphorical undressing of the legend we have been taught to revere - General, Agila, Hero, Lover - revealing a man, just a man, underneath.

This encapsulates the film's core tenet: there are no heroes, yet all of us are. Historical figures are men just like you and me, prone to their own failings, and they will fall, but the idea of country - land, national identity, people and culture - will always be constant. There are no saviors, no magic bullets to solve our problems. Blind faith towards false idols is dangerous and foolish. We change the world, ultimately, through our own selves. 

Petmalu Lacks in Werpa and Pretty Much Everything Else

Petmalu is the latest in a slew of recent barkada movies where a gang of several people go through young people problems as they struggle to cohere as a group. Petmalu checks all the boxes in the checklist of barkada movie cliches (and then some) and it tries to innovate in some areas as well. However, there's one catch: the movie is a confusing, poorly structured mess.

The barkada behind Petmalu consists of seven people and there's a handy guide to memorizing all of them: the first letters of their names form the word Petmalu. Sure, "Unice" is kind of a weird way to squeeze in that last letter for a name, but hey, I guess the scriptwriter didn't want to use Ursula, Una or any other valid female name starting with U. 

That said, aside from a handful of characters, it's hard to keep track of everyone, since their backstories are very similar. After the third straight scene where parents are arguing, they all started looking the same. This is not a good thing for a film whose sole purpose (I suspect) is to promote these kids to audiences. The only people whose plots I can really remember are Pete, who has a single mom, and Unice, who is the sole girl. There's the guy with an OFW mom who is seduced by a lonely woman with an OFW husband (kinda icky), the guy who is taking a college course that (gasp) HE DOESN'T LIKE TAKING, one guy has a drug problem (and squabbling parents), the other's parents are... overprotective or something? The most important of all the side stories is this one kid who is secretly gay, and his plot takes over the film for its last third. 

There are also two stories near the end of the film that concern two girls tangentially related to the Petmalu crowd: one girl has an unrequited crush on one of the kids, and the other got knocked up by some guy (who isn't even part of the barkada.) The latter of these two women only shows up in two scenes. So there are now NINE plot threads in this film, ten if you include the overarching plot. This is worse than freaking Avengers Infinity War, for crying out loud. What's the point of over-stuffing this narrative with so many threads? There was a point in this film where scenes were three minutes long, tops, before moving on to the next character. It took me a half hour just to sort out who was who. The editing and the arrangement of scenes make it even worse - making the film almost unwatchable.

And the funny thing is, a lot of these subplots simply fizzle out near the last half. Aside from maybe one or two of these plots, they are either unresolved or nothing has changed at all with their situation. Even the big thing the barkada were striving towards turns out to be a giant red herring. Something tragic happens, but at this point I don't care, because I wasn't given enough time to know these characters.

The only halfway decent thing about this film is, and I'm not shitting you here, it's a musical. So I now have the distinct privilege of hearing some character I don't really know sing about something I don't care about. Yay I guess. Unfortunately, the singing disappears after an hour or so as things get a little more serious.

Petmalu feels like listening to ten people talking to you at once, with one person talking in poems, one person singing to you, and six people suddenly stopping mid-sentence. It's a confusing, poorly edited, poorly constructed mess of a film. But hey, we kinda get handsome hunks amirite

A Fistful of Grannies: A Look at Miss Granny Around the World

Japan, forever the rebel, doesn't have an umbrella

What happens when filmmakers repeatedly create separate iterations of the same story? How does culture go into play when this happens? And why is world cinema so fascinating? These questions came into my mind when I watched the recent Filipino remake of Miss Granny. The latest version of the 2014 South Korean hit comedy is fun, light entertainment by itself, but its existence is equally as interesting. After watching the film, I found out that the original film has been remade six times in six different countries, including the Philippines. This is uncommon: remakes often happen one or twice, maybe thrice. The closest comparison I have is in the Indian film industry, where regional film industries remake films from neighboring regions in order to market the film to local audiences.

So, on a whim, I decided to watch the original Miss Granny and all the remakes that have been made so far in order to see how different filmmakers in different countries adapt a source material from an entirely different culture. We'll be making a comparative analysis of all the remakes so far on both a superficial level and (hopefully) on a deeper level. And for once, I'll be able to tell you something about how we remake films without talking about that notorious appropriator of films, Hollywood.

The basic premise of Miss Granny is simple enough: an old woman is magically transformed into her twenty year old self thanks to a magic photo studio. She joins her grandson's band and changes it for the better, while also catching the attention of her old flame and a handsome music producer. All of the films I watched followed this pattern, but each version has their own subtle differences, with some versions being more different than others.

A warning before we begin: since we will be looking at the story of Miss Granny in depth, it goes without saying that THIS POST CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS.

In General

The South Korean original is a fun film that made waves at the box office thanks to word of mouth. It had a decent cast and the plot was okay, though it had some niggling problems and unaddressed plot points near the last half.

The films that stuck the most to the South Korean original are the Filipino, Vietnamese and Indonesian remakes. The Vietnamese and Indonesian remakes are almost shot for shot remakes of the original, which is nice but they end up being relatively unremarkable as a result. 

The Filipino remake adheres closely to the original but takes a couple of liberties with the storyline. In the Filipino remake, the emphasis is shifted from the Granny's love interests to the family drama that is going on at the same time. It's also the most musically adept of all the versions of Miss Granny - one of the benefits of having an experienced singer-actress in the lead role. 

The Thai remake is sort of middle ground as far as remakes go. It is, in my opinion, one of the funnier versions of the film as it adds a lot of jokes that weren't present in the original. The film is far more expository compared to its siblings, as the film begins with a flashback that explains Granny's early life. However, the film takes a lot of risks in terms of how it develops its drama and it doesn't always turn out well, especially near the end of the film.

The Chinese and Japanese remakes are the most divergent compared to the South Korean original in terms of plot. They also make a lot of different stylistic choices: the Chinese remake begins with a montage of flashbacks that looks like a continuous shot, for example. The Japanese remake (titled "Ayashii Kanojo," or Suspicious Woman) is a far more somber film compared to the others, and it also has an extra angle where it champions single parenthood because of the way it is constructed.

The Old Grannies

A cavalcade of veteran actresses comprise the people taking on the role of the old Granny. The Philippines has Nova Villa, veteran comedian-actress. She is joined by actresses such as two time Citra Award winner Niniek Karim, in the Indonesian remake.

Despite the reputation that Chinese moms have in some forms of popular media as strict, often overprotective parents, the least grumpy of the old Grannies is portrayed by veteran Taiwanese actress Gua Ah-leh in the Chinese version. In the Chinese remake, this version of Granny is adept at Mahjong, a skill that she later uses to humiliate her rival.

The grumpiest, most cantankerous version of old Granny is in the Korean original, played by everyone's favorite Korean grandma Na Moon-hee. She has starred in several great Korean films, from A Quiet Family to Cruel Winter Blues.

Perhaps one of the most legendary actresses to take up the mantle of old Granny is Mitsuko Baisho, from the Japanese remake. In her decades long career, she has worked with directors ranging from Akira Kurosawa (in Kagemusha (1980)) to  Shohei Imamura (Vengeance is Mine (1974) and Unagi (1997), among others). Her interpretation of Granny is also much less cantankerous and more of a busybody than anything else.

The old grannies have similar pasts, but the original and some remakes emphasize Granny's past as a singer, or at least a hopeful singer, which ties into her skill in singing. However, their pasts are tied up to their countries' respective histories: the Chinese version has Granny overcoming hardship during the poverty stricken era of the Cultural Revolution, while the Japanese, Korean and Filipino versions have flashbacks set during life in the post-WWII era and the decades that followed.

The Magical Photo Studio

Old Granny comes across a magical photo studio that transforms her into her twenty year old self. In most iterations of the film, the studio is named "Forever Young" or something similar. In the Japanese version, it's named Ootori Studio (a meaningful name, as we will learn later.)

What's also interesting is what the photo studio magically turns into when young Granny returns to it a bit later in the film. In the Filipino and South Korean versions, the studio becomes a restaurant; in equally traditional Indonesia the studio becomes a clothing store. In other countries, the shop location becomes something raunchier: the Thai version has it turn into a girly bar, the Chinese version turns it into a sex shop, and the Vietnamese version turns it into a lingerie shop.

A cute little Easter egg in some versions of the film has Old Granny waiting at a bus stop plastered with the face of Shim Eun-kyung, the star of the original film.

Another cultural quirk separates the Japanese version from the other remakes and the original, though this is just a theory. In all other versions of the film, young Granny chases down a bus after her time at the photo studio. It's there in the bus where she realizes she has been turned into a young woman. Perhaps because Japan prides itself on timely public transport, this sequence has been changed into something else in the Japanese remake - after leaving the photo studio, young Granny becomes the victim of a motorcycle-riding thief. She manages to catch up to the guy and she sees her reflection in the thief's motorcycle helmet.

The Young Grannies

Two remakes have experienced singer-actresses in the lead role: Sarah Geronimo is the young Granny in the Filipino remake and Miu Le takes on the role in the Vietnamese remake. However, the Filipino version's songs are better, and Geronimo makes the best of it; this film is actually one of my favorite Sarah Geronimo films.

The other films' young Grannies have experienced actresses in the role: Davika Hoorne (perhaps best known for Heart Attack (2015)) is tomboyish and comedic, while Mikako Tabe, from the live action Kimi no Todoke, brings an adorable spin to the role. Yang Zishun, from last year's Cannes entry Walking Past the Future, has a slightly more brash take on the lead character.

One significant quirk among all of the films is in the inspiration for young Granny's name and/or look, as it differs from remake to remake. In the South Korean, Filipino, Thai and Japanese versions, the young Granny's look and name is based on Hollywood actress Audrey Hepburn. The name is often wordplay based on Hepburn's name: Oh Doo-ri in Korean, Odrey in Filipino, and Otori in Japanese (this is also a play on words, as 'ootori' in Japanese means Phoenix). The Thai remake doesn't have a name change, but the look is obviously Hepburnesque.

This is completely different in the Chinese, Vietnamese, and Indonesian versions of the film. It's understandable, since these three countries have cultures that are not as Westernized as their other counterparts. The Chinese version's name for young Granny is based off of Taiwanese singer Teresa Teng (the main character's name is based on Teng's real name). The Vietnamese version bases the look and name of the main character on Vietnamese singer Thanh Nga, while the Indonesian version's name change is based on award winning actress Mieke Wijaya.

L-R: Thanh Nga, Mieke Wijaya, Audrey Hepburn, Teresa Teng

Granny's Child

For the most part, Granny's child in all the remakes and incarnations is the same: a highly successful academic whose field of study is related to the elderly.

The sole exception is in the Japanese remake. In this version, Granny has a daughter instead of a son, and her name is Sachie (portrayed by Satomi Kobayashi of After the Storm fame). Sachie works as a magazine editor who has been transferred or demoted in favor of younger staff. Sachie herself is a single mom, and this creates a nice symmetry with her own mother's situation, transforming the Japanese version into a stronger ode to single motherhood. All of the male characters in the Japanese remake do not talk about father figures, rather, they are a generation raised by mothers while their fathers did all the breadwinner stuff, a norm in Japanese society for many decades. 

The Grandson and His Band

Granny often has two grandchildren, a grandson and a granddaughter. The grandson has a band (often with a punk/metal sensibility) that sucks, often because of a bad lead singer who quits early on in the film.Young Granny takes on the lead singer role, converting the band from rock to something like retro pop. The songs that the band plays are classic songs based on the country of origin. By the end of the story, the granddaughter takes on the role of lead singer.

Of all the bands, the Filipino version has the best music, thanks to the lead singer and the songwriters.

Again, the exception to this is the Japanese remake. In the Japanese version of the film, the grandson is an only child; his band has a decent lead singer, but she quits early on because she needs to find a job. She later returns to the lead singer role after the events of the climax. The songs of the Japanese remake also have a more rock-based edge to them as compared to the other remakes.

For the most part, the grandson is played by an actor-singer. The Indonesian version's Kevin Julio is a singer and DJ, Takumi Kitamura is a member of a pop/rock band, Ngo Kien Huy is a well known Vietnamese singer, Lu Han is a solo artist but formerly from the boyband EXO, and Jin Young is member of the Korean boyband B1A4. 

That said, James Reid is handsomest grandson. It isn't even close. Just saying lel

The Producer

The role of the music producer differs from remake to remake. In most cases, he's set up to be an additional love interest for young Granny and a means for the grandson to get his big break in the music industry. The Vietnamese, Japanese and and Thai remakes are the versions that push for this relationship the most, while the Filipino and Chinese remakes underplay this subplot compared to the others. The Thai and Japanese versions even have additional scenes that help emphasize this relationship.

During the later half of the story, young Granny finds herself without a place to stay and eventually stays with music producer for the night (in some remakes, this stay is extended). All of the versions end with the producer passing out on the sofa (either due to drunkenness or exhaustion) with the exception of the Thai remake, which has young Granny punching the music producer to sleep.

The Old Flame

The Old Flame is another one of young Granny's suitors. He's usually Granny's neighbor and close friend, as well as coworker/friend in the local senior citizen center. In many of the versions of the film, he was a servant in Granny's old home, and was smitten with her from the start.

In Japan, the concept of family servants doesn't really translate, so the film changed it a bit. In the Japanese version, Jiro is a fellow friend and war orphan who grew up with Granny during the post war era. Although their relationship is downplayed here (Granny even consults Jiro personally regarding her budding relationship with the music producer), the film hints at their budding relationship together at the end.

In most of the films' end scenes, there's a sequence where the Old Flame encounters the magical photo studio and becomes young himself. The Thai remake cuts out at the moment where his picture is being taken. For some reason, the Chinese remake omits this entire sequence completely.

Wounds and Discovery

The film's turning point occurs when young Granny is wounded in the foot, and she discovers that blood loss reverses the de-aging process. It happens in different circumstances during each of the remakes: in the original and Thai versions, young Granny is wounded at a waterpark; in the Vietnamese version, she is wounded while swimming in a hotelside pool; an altercation in a bar wounds young Granny in the Chinese version; in the Japanese version, she falls down a small hill during a walk in the woods; in the Indonesian remake, an ice cream glass shatters near her feet; and in the Filipino remake, young Granny is wounded during a music video shoot.

Perhaps these different circumstances are due to conservative cultural values (maybe showing swimsuits isn't as popular in other countries) or merely due to budget or production constraints.

The Twist, Climax and Ending

The original twist, where the grandson gets into a car accident while riding a bike on his way to his band's big concert, is standard fare in Korean melodramas. Most of the remakes play this straight, though the Thai version is particularly flamboyant about it: the crash scene is done in super dramatic slow motion, with pieces of glass flying everywhere. These are conventions I noticed in other works Thai mainstream media where dramatic scenes are stretched out for maximum impact.

The Japanese version once again proves to be the odd man out - the grandson isn't riding a bike at all, instead, he is distracted while walking across a pedestrian lane and is struck by a car. While his other counterparts lie still on the spot, wounded Japanese grandson manages to walk all the way to the concert venue and collapses inside the band's dressing room.

In all the versions of the film, Young Granny decides to stay instead of immediately going to the hospital, so that she can sing her grandson's song for the audience. It's supposed to be a big moment, and in all versions you can feel that she has to make this song, her swan song, memorable. In my opinion, the Filipino version manages to execute this the best. The Filipino remake's last song, Isa Pang Araw (One More Day) is excellent, optimally utilizing the singing prowess of Sarah Geronimo. It feels like a triumphant moment, and it greatly enhances the emotional impact of the scene. On the other hand, the Thai version leaves a lot to be desired. In the Thai version, young Granny actually stops singing at one point, distraught. Though it makes for some drama, it undercuts her resolve to help her grandson. The song also abruptly ends compared to the other versions of the film, further cutting its emotional impact.

After the last song, all of the versions of the film pan out in similar fashion, with the exception of the Chinese remake, which abruptly ends after a point. The Korean and Japanese versions tie up most of the loose threads compared to their counterparts.

Other Minor Plot Points

There are a lot of other minor details that set each movie apart from the other:

1) Granny often brings fruits for Old Flame. In most versions of the film, Old Flame is allergic to the fruits, which shows how little Granny actually knows her friend. What's interesting is that the fruit is different with each adaptation: Peach (Korea), Sapodilla or Chico (Philippines), Rambutan (Thai), Peach (China), Bananas (Vietnam) and Apples (Japan, plus Jiro isn't allergic).

2) Granny's favorite kind of show is different as well: Soap Operas (Thai, Indonesia and Vietnam), Period Dramas (think Jewel in the Palace) (China and Korea) and Professional Wrestling (Philippines).

3) The Music Producer has a female assistant in all the films except in Japan, where he has a male assistant. Also, the female assistant is a bit antagonistic in the Vietnamese version of the film.

4) There is a scene where young granny confronts the music producer for the first time using an everyday object or food: two fish (Philippines), one fish (Korea), a radish (China), a spatula (Japan), Chicken feet and a radish (Vietnam), and an umbrella (Indonesia). The Thai version doesn't have a weapon.

5) In the Chinese version, the grandson and granddaughter are fraternal twins.

6) In the Korean, Filipino and Vietnamese versions of the film, there's a scene where young Granny tries to buy some anti anxiety pills after she finds out she has been transformed. This is a strange scene in itself in our context because anti-anxiety pills are strictly controlled in the Philippines and you cannot get them unless you have a special prescription pad. Also, in the Vietnamese version of the film, the daughter in law is taking a cocktail of medications - perhaps because of the stress caused by granny?

7) In many of the remakes, there is a scene where young Granny chides a mother with a crying baby because the mother's breast milk is watery. This scene is not present in the Filipino, Japanese and Thai versions. In the Thai version, the milk is watery because of breast implants.

8) Obviously, Granny argues with her daughter in law about different food recipes depending on the country.

9) The Thai version is more open in terms of talking to Granny about putting her in a seniors' home. 

10) Granny and grandson are closer and have a lot more scenes together in the Vietnamese version. In the Thai version, after an argument about song lyrics, the grandson talks with his father instead of directly making up with young Granny.

11) Early on in the film, Japanese Granny is scammed by an "ore, ore" scammer, who frequently targets the elderly. This doesn't happen in any of the other remakes.

12) The takes in the Filipino version leave in several instances of corpsing, which makes the whole thing even funnier.

Themes and Overall Thoughts

Collectively, the films share a common core - a look at the problems facing the elderly, as well as an appeal to value the love our parents give us unconditionally. Regardless of the country or culture it is set in, all the movies agree that there are few things more powerful than a mother's love. Some of the other versions emphasize this aspect of filial piety more than others, but the overall effect is the same.

The thing with having remakes closely mimicking the original material is, if they closely mimic the original source material, they run the risk of inheriting the problems of the source. That's the case with the remakes that stuck the closest to the source material. Case in point: there's a scene in the Korean original where Granny confronts a woman whose life was negatively impacted by her actions. It's a scene that's supposed to show us that as a young mother, Granny had to sacrifice a lot for the sake of her child. Even in the Korean original, the scene doesn't completely work, and this sideplot is abandoned and never addressed again for the rest of the film. Since the Thai and Filipino remakes keep this scene in, they suffer the same problems.

On the other hand, taking risks doesn't always pay out, in the case of the Chinese and Thai remakes and how they handled the ending of the story. So it has to be a balance between respecting the source material and innovating and adjusting for cultural differences. I think the Japanese remake does an excellent job in this regard, and it even expands on the original's themes of motherhood and parental responsibilities.

With many personal opinions on film and many styles of filmmaking to match, I think each remake has their own pros and cons, depending on one's personal tastes, and each film has something interesting and unique to offer.

Whichever version of the film you ultimately decide to see (my personal recommendations are the Filipino and the Japanese remakes, the former of which is still in cinemas as of this writing), Miss Granny has come up with a winning formula that seems to transcend cultures: in most of the countries it has debuted in, the respective remakes have made a decent amount of money. And it seems like the remake train hasn't stopped quite yet: plans are in place for at least four more remakes, including an Indian remake and (finally) a version made by Hollywood.

So, young Indian grandma and Motown-singing young black grandma? I'm all in.

The Hows of Us shows the problematic core of breakup movies

The Hows of Us, Star Cinema's latest love team vehicle, begins with an inspired shot of an empty house. Over the next few minutes, the house fills up with appliances, furniture and knick-knacks as it charts the history of our couple, a history that proves to be tumultuous. While it makes for a promising introduction, The Hows of Us ultimately turns out to be a messy rehash of previous films in the Star Cinema lineup, a tragic squandering of the Kathniel love team's talent.

When we meet Primo (Daniel Padilla) and George (Kathryn Bernardo) again, the two have been separated for years. Flashbacks point to the reason behind this rift: Primo's too much of a dreamer, content to letting George support them both financially to pursue his musical dreams while at the same time ignoring George's own dreams to become a doctor. This culminates in a sequence where George basically abandons her NMAT exam to tend to a drunken Primo. To non-medical students, this constitutes a time where one sacrifices her dreams for the sake of the other. To medical students, intentionally sinking the NMAT is a huge deal: many medical schools screen admissions based on how well a student performs during an NMAT, and if one fails an exam, it shows up on a student's record. Had I been in George's shoes, I would not only have split with this no good guy, I would never want to see him again.

But here we are, years later, and Primo's back, ready to reconcile. Let's just ignore the fact that his existence caused untold amounts of pain to George - two years later, she's still reeling from that incident and she's still not a medical student. And here's where the movie loses me completely. I went from a doubting skeptic to someone completely repulsed by the very notion of this film. It's a feeling I've felt before, with another love team vehicle that operated on a similar premise: 2017's My Ex and Whys.

The beginning of The Hows of Us features a debate about the roles of men and women in a relationship. Although the film tries to prove the fact that a complementary relationship is key, it manages to back up the point that women merely exist to clean up the messes of men instead. There's a scene near the middle of The Hows of Us that encapsulates this toxic idea: before the breakup, Primo was a complete leech. He contributes nothing in terms of money to the bills or household expenses. Later on in the film, he sells something to George (it's a product he acquires through multilevel marketing, itself a highly dubious source of income). He returns some of the money George pays him, saying it's his contribution to paying the bills. On the surface it looks like a sweet gesture, but you have to remember, that's still George's money, and Primo still doesn't work a regular job. He's not shown doing anything like a job for the rest of the film and it feels like a token gesture to get audiences to side with him.

In both films, both men come back with their tails between their legs, their situations supposedly changed for the better. In trying to get the couple back together, both movies conveniently dismiss the agency of the woman, with both scripts having side characters (even characters who were skeptical of the relationship in the first place) goad the poor woman to just make up with the guy already, because he has apparently magically changed for the better, even though this change is depicted poorly in the film. The film sweeps all of his problematic behavior under the rug. Not once does the film imply that a relationship based out of cooperation and understanding is the way; instead, the girl should keep on providing for the guy instead.

I'll say this in Tagalog just to hammer down the point: Hindi dahil nagpapacute ang isang party, dapat magbati na kayo. May dahilan kung bakit kayo naghiwalay.

And here we wonder why people keep on coming back to problematic, abusive relationships.

We repeatedly see how Primo's held up over the years, how he had to give up his musical dreams for his dad. We do not see what happened to George in the same time period, and how delaying (or probably even stopping) her medical studies could have impacted not only her life, but that of her brother's or her family's.

All I see are justifications for the man, with little indication that he truly has the capacity to change. There are moments where you see him truly changing for the better (like a particular scene where Primo sacrifices something important) but those scenes are few and far between. I attribute this (like in My Ex and Whys) to a poorly written script. Should we forgive Primo just because he's the love team partner of George? Personally, I don't think so, and this is the problem I have with breakup films. The couple has to get back together no matter what, because it's the expectation of the audience. Who cares about what's sensible or right? I do not like films that try to tell me what to do.

The film changes gears near the last act, following several well-trodden romantic tropes: the couple heads towards an exotic locale (this time, it's Amsterdam) in search of George's long lost father. it does little to advance the plot and it further bloats an already bloated film. Not only that, we are constantly assaulted with declarations from both George's brother (who, despite all his naivete, should really know better at this point) and Primo's friend that George should make up with Primo, pretty please with a cherry on top. By this time we are assaulted with pretty pictures and declarations from Primo that wouldn't look out of place as captions on an Instagram picture. 

There is a moment near the end that is supposed to be cathartic, but because the film has spent most of its running time telling me how to feel, I zoned out. There are flashbacks to happier memories and an appeal to sentimentality, but all it left me was a bad taste in my mouth.

The film then tries its hand at ambiguity, but this uncertainty leads into more unsatisfactory, unanswered questions. It escapes the dilemma it has established (should Primo and George get back together or not) by running away from it. It doesn't make Primo accountable for his earlier actions at all, nor does it complete the process of George's journey towards understanding her feelings about the whole thing.

I do not like The Hows of Us. Even though I appreciate the craft behind some of the aspects of the film, and even though I appreciated the performances of the two leads (especially Daniel Padilla), I despise the fundamental idea it is built upon. I fully admit I am in the minority saying this; despite my misgivings, the film has made tons of money at the box office and will continue to do so. But even if you, dear reader, elect to dismiss my thoughts on the film completely (like how the film dismissed George), consider this:

Whenever you see our government deny couples the choice to get divorced, whenever you see a family member or friend get back into a relationship that doesn't look good, when you see a sister or a best friend choose to side with an abusive man because "they're meant to be together," remember this film. Remember this film and the films like it, and remember the role these films played into perpetuating a culture where these things continue to happen.

Have fun with that notion.