Jino to Mari begins with shots of meat, all lined up and ready to be sold. Perhaps one would expect the rest of the movie (about two sex workers tasked with filming a porno) to show how, through the commodification of sex, people are turned into nothing but pieces of meat to be bought and sold.
But the film does not start with sex. Nothing really salacious happens for most of the film. Instead, the film establishes its two titular protagonists' humanity before getting into the details. These are not just bodies, these are flesh and blood human beings, with loved ones, hopes and dreams just like the rest of us. As stated in Oggs Cruz's review of the film, Gino and Marie assert their rights by creating personal boundaries for themselves. Consent forms a major part of the film.
There is considerable build up to the eventual sex scene, and it feels ritualistic. Gino and Marie both take baths - part of standard procedure before doing sex work, but depicted here as a sort of ablution and viewed through voyeuristic framing. The sex begins, and the rights Gino and Marie have established are challenged. The directors of the scene try to take Gino and Marie's dignity away, but they doggedly hold on to it, though there is slight compromise for the sake of earning money. This reminds one of films like Brillante Mendoza's Masahista (2005), whose titular masseur exchanged sex work for cash. (Also an appropriate comparison, considering Mendoza also wrote the story for this film.) There is a kiss in the middle of the climax that signifies either a final surrender, and the completion the process of Gino and Marie's degradation, or a final defiant act of humanity.
Multiple interpretations emerge from behind the frames, carefully and meticulously crafted by Altarejos and DP Mycko David. The radio broadcasts heard during bus rides or at home lampshade the toxicity of Filipino culture and our tendency to objectify, from the highest office of the land down to its most lowly citizen. The camera's focus tends to drift towards bodies: an extension of our characters' eyes, and even our own, making us aware of our gaze. The film's music is mostly classical, its central motif arguably Leo Delibes' Flower Duet from his opera Lakme. Lakme is an opera about doomed love, ending with a defiant death to preserve honor. Classical music in itself feels ethereal and pure, providing a disturbing level of contrast when used during the film's most extreme scenes.
The casting of a Japanese man as the director of the pornographic film, juxtaposed with historical accounts of their occupation of our lands, perhaps signifies a broader, political meaning, depicting a history of colonialism that continues to this day. And in a metafictional sense, considering that this ostensible Japanese porno is a film within a film, it is curious that the title of this movie is in Japanese. Is this Altarejos placing himself in the shoes of the Japanese director, saying that, in the making of such a steamy film, he too may be no different, his effort to humanize his characters serving as some sort of atonement? The film also asks the question: in the creation of art, how should the creator treat the performer? Should they treat them with respect, or merely as glorified props who spout lines?
Dense with meaning and open to interpretation, Jino to Mari will not be to everyone's taste, but I personally consider it one of Altarejos' better works.
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