The Last Interview is a piece of... work

It is perhaps one of the greatest pitfalls of a biographical film that it becomes a hagiography - in that it portrays its subject as a saint and not as a flawed human being. The Last Interview: The Mayor Antonio Halili Story does not fall into that trap, because it seems to be actually tailored to make you not like the character; the man in the film is portrayed as a well meaning douche. One could think that this film is a mean spirited attempt at character assassination, but then again, the original intentions seem to be to portray its subject as a good guy, so we'll chalk this one up to general incompetence on the filmmakers' part and a glaring lack of self awareness.

Like last year's sylvan masterpiece of wooden acting Ang Misyon: A Marawi Siege Story, director Ceasar Soriano  has once again chosen a topic about a relevant event and  predictably botches the landing like a drunk chimpanzee landing a 747. Last year, the Mayor of Tanauan, Batangas was shot and killed during a flag ceremony. The man had a penchant for parading drug suspects, and although he was publicly supportive of the country's drug war, he was linked to illegal drugs himself (even though no evidence to that effect ever came out to the public.) His killers have never been found.

The film is framed as a pseudo-documentary: most of the movie is a flashback to Halili's life and his journey towards political leadership. John Estrada takes the lead role. Director Soriano himself takes a role as the interviewer, as if the movie was an episode of his PTV show Magandang Gabi, Pilipinas. Again, someone used to Filipino biopics would perhaps expect a hagiography, portraying its subject as a virtuous person - but there is a disconnect between what the film wants to show us and what we really see. If anything, it says a lot about the logic and mindset of people supporting the drug war.

The flashbacks literally start with an elementary school age Halili beating up another kid. The film tries to justify this in an unconvincing scene where his father tells his mother that it's okay that Halili beat up that kid, because that kid was a bully and his son was protecting other people. In any other situation, this kid would be seen as a violent thug and not as a valiant protector. Lesson #1: it's okay to inflict violence on other people, as long as it's against the right people. This theme is maintained throughout the flashback sequences as we see Halili beat up people a few more times. The second time we see this, we are not given a reason why he is beating up said person - we are just led to believe that since it's Halili doing the beat down, that person deserves it.

A sideplot involves Halili's cousin being raped and tortured by a number of nameless bad guys, but we don't know who they are, and the cousin is used as an excuse to justify Halili's tough stance on crime. Shame, then, that we don't really know what happened to that case, and the dead cousin is promptly forgotten. Lesson #2: It's enough to be angry at injustice, and that anger takes precedence over the actual dispensation of justice.

Halili finds his sweetheart (portrayed at different ages by Kate Alejandrino and Ara Mina) by aggressively courting her. (And by aggressive, I also mean that they bond through Halili beating up several people. It's kind of a trend at this point.) They eventually get married, but then the film inexplicably shows a scene where Halili cheats on her with another woman. Halili is clearly caught in the act, but it's somehow solely the mistress' fault. This is also played up for laughs, considering the accompanying soundtrack. The rest of the film forgets this scene and emphasizes their great romance. Lesson #3: when a man cheats, it's always someone else's fault, and it is just a case of men being men, with no negative impact to their character whatsoever.

When Halili finally does become mayor, he makes good on his promise and cracks down hard on criminality. We get anecdotal footage of people telling us that hey, the mayor's methods kinda work. Soriano frames Halili as an action star, actively taking part in these operations with an M-16 slung over his shoulder, even though there isn't any reason to believe he actually participated this deeply. Lesson #4: "tough guy" politicians see themselves as the action stars of their own movies, a fantasy that seems to be a way to compensate for some psychological complex.

This leads to the parading of suspects that Halili was famous for. The film's 'logic' holds true up to this point. Since these alleged (emphasis on alleged since they haven't been convicted) users and pushers are the bad guys, it's okay to disregard their human rights, even though ironically the film shows footage of a prisoner saying yeah, we have rights too. That doesn't matter, of course. The film does address that there are people that criticize Halili's methods, but this is dismissed quickly, with our erstwhile mayor stating that the people who criticize him must be involved in drugs, too. In this context, this feeling of self-righteousness and entitlement makes sense. Lesson #5: Elected officials are the official, unassailable arbiters of what's right and wrong, and if you criticize them, rightfully or not, you must be an enemy as well and deserve no rights.

This proves to be ironic as Halili himself gets tagged in the administration's narcolist. It's unclear how or why he is involved in said list, as the film chalks it up to "political blabla" (an actual line in the film) and political persecution (by whom, the film never says.) Faced with the possible end of his political career, there's a scene where Halili sees a political future for his daughter, but only because she's his daughter. Nothing in the movie tells us why she deserves that position, she apparently deserves it because of Lesson #5. Lesson #6: Political dynasties are justified. I guess. Considering that his daughter did eventually win as mayor during the recent election, that says a lot about how people think about it.

Soriano uses mostly competent actors this time, which only exacerbates the the fact that it makes the non-actors even worse by contrast. Imagine award-winning actor Noel Comia Jr. delivering his lines alongside a couple of human shaped robots and you'll get an idea how ridiculous it looks like. And it's not hard to see why these non-actors lack the direction needed to give a convincing performance: Soriano himself has the acting prowess of a damp sponge. On the technical side, the film is actually a giant step up from Soriano's previous film, but that's relatively speaking.

The film ends with actual footage of Halili's death, which feels overly graphic and insensitive to its subject. I personally never knew the former mayor; all I know is what the film tells me. For all I know he might have actually been a truly upstanding individual, a respectable public official and a model citizen, who did good by the citizens of Tanauan. It's just that this tone-deaf failure of a biopic doesn't do him or his legacy any favors. It's poorly made, poorly directed, and comes from a place of smug condescension and a total lack of awareness. Whether one is for or against the drug war, there's nothing in this film that caters to either audience, because it sucks. And given that literally no one saw this film (I saw this film alone in an otherwise empty theater) I think audiences picked up on that, too.

Kuwaresma (spoilers)

Note: major spoilers for Kuwaresma.

Set in the year 1985, Kuwaresma follows Luis (Kent Gonzales) as he returns to his home in Baguio to attend the funeral of his recently deceased sister. It becomes clear that something is not quite right in the house, which leads to all sorts of complications. Luis' dad, Arturo, is a controlling, hypermasculine soldier who believes in survival of the fittest, while his doctor mom is subservient to her husband's whims.

There's no question that Kuwaresma creates an interesting atmosphere. Things are off-kilter at just the right amounts and the weirdness is unique compared to other contemporary horror films. Thankfully, the film decides not to rely on cliched horror tropes to deliver its scares (at least, not too much). Like most of Erik Matti's recent films, the film can also be enjoyed at multiple levels, and there's a decent amount of subtext going on.

While the film does do a number of really good things that work on their own, when working together as parts of a greater whole the results are not as effective. Kuwaresma tries to juggle several things at once, and each of those little things affect the others in negative ways. 

The film can be seen as a critique of toxic masculinity, but the demonic possession angle of the film dilutes that message, because now the reason for all the evil acts in the film are can be blamed on a demon, and not solely on the man and the evil built into his character. The film tries to champion the power of a woman, but at the same time the film also conveys the message that when good people do nothing, evil flourishes, inadvertently putting some blame on the woman in what is an obviously abusive relationship. In its construction, the film tries to espouse these messages without thinking too much of the history and power structures that created this situation in the first place.

In its most meaningful twist, it is revealed that Luis is a woman all along, and that his choice to become a man stems from his father's actions, but the suspension of disbelief is too hard to maintain. It's strange to think that Luis would just conveniently forget that he doesn't have a penis, especially every time he goes to the bathroom. How would he take a piss in comfort rooms? Would he mess up his pants trying to piss standing up? And while gender reassignment surgeries were available as early as the sixties, it wasn't widely available in the Philippines (and it still isn't), and there is no indication that any surgery ever happened. It could have been a powerful statement on how sexual identity is sometimes forced upon us by others, but it doesn't stick the landing.

Kuwaresma is not a bad film per se, but it ends up being a victim of putting too much on its plate. While it is entertaining on its own, it collapses under its own complexity and that ultimately detracts from the overall experience.

Between Maybes (mild spoilers)

The latest in a slew of not-quite-romances by Black Sheep, Between Maybes is a peculiar entry in Jason Laxamana's body of work. Like his 2017 film Fallback, this film also explores a side of show business (though not as deeply) and like his other romantic films such as To Love Some Buddy (2018), the overall tone is light and surprisingly funny in its first third.

At the center of the film are Louie and Hazel (Gerard Anderson and Julia Barretto), who meet each other by chance in Saga, Japan. Hazel is an actress struggling to do something more, and Louie is a Filipino residing in Japan. Their characters are two sides of the same coin: Hazel yearns for independence from her overbearing family, but is only escaping the inevitable truth that other than acting, she can't do much else, and Louie is already independent, but yearns for the parental affection that he has been desperately searching for since his childhood.

An unlikely friendship blossoms, and there is the hint of romance, though it's a romance that feels tentative (this is not a bad thing). Hazel and Louie try to live in the space between what could be - but this feeling is short lived. Reality is always peeking around the corner, and while they help improve each other over the course of their stay, they are aware that this arrangement is fleeting. 

There are some weird choices, especially in the first half. Anime-related storytelling devices pop up occasionally in the first third, bringing about a jarring, but temporary, shift in tone. But these same devices are used in the ending of the film to great effect, signifying a hopeful continuation of a not-quite-love story that can't really take off... for now.

Notes on Man and Wife

Laurice Guillen's Man and Wife is the tragic story of a couple, Carding (Gabby Concepcion) and Luisa (Jodi Sta. Maria) who are repeatedly cockblocked by their unsuspecting child. The unfortunate interruptions of sexy time (tm) are punctuated by a thunder storm, which seems to indicate their horniness is a supernatural trigger for adverse weather phenomena. This all comes to a head during the final moments when, during the third such instance of potential cockblocking, said couple locks their child out of their room as they do the deed, traumatizing her for life thanks to 1) the thunderstorm that isn't going anywhere and 2) the sounds of their lovemaking.

But enough of that, there's actually a story in between the first cockblock and the last. The film is actually based on characters from the long-running radio drama series/teleserye Gulong ng Palad, which has been running intermittently in one form or another since the seventies. The setup is simple enough: Carding and Luisa are two lovers, but their respective families aren't shipping this OTP, so shenanigans ensue. In this iteration of the story, Carding and Luisa have settled their differences with their families by not settling them (ha) and running away to America. As the film begins, Carding is then compelled to return to the Philippines because his estranged mother Menang is sick. He brings along his family for the ride. When they return, shit seems to have hit the fan in their small community: Mayor Menang is sponsoring a mining establishment that is wreaking havoc on the local population, and has killed or maimed several people, including people in or close to Luisa's family.

The film feels VERY dated. This is a film that would have been halfway decent in 1982, but it's 2019 and soap operatics like this don't really click anymore. That isn't even including the cheesy voiceover and the old fashioned sexual politics. For some reason, the film isn't marketed as based on Gulong ng Palad - maybe the added marketing would have sold a couple more tickets, or...?

The plot points of the movie seem appropriate given that it's election season, but it does carry with it a number of unfortunate implications (so townsfolk can't solve their own problems unless the collective action is headed by a rich outsider?) And the central conflict between Carding and Luisa feels too much like an Idiot Plot. Maybe this lack of communication stems from the fact that the kid cockblocked them too much over the years.

Man and Wife isn't a bad film per se, and it's actually decently acted. The film is just very old fashioned. In a cinematic landscape where there are limited resources for making films, I'm finding it hard to justify its existence.

Tayo sa Huling Buwan ng Taon [Spoilers]

Note: some spoilers for Tayo sa Huling Buwan ng Taon. Watch the movie first, then come back here.

When I and a couple of friends talked to director Nestor Abrogena about his follow-up to the sleeper hit Ang Kwento Nating Dalawa, he told us about two words that defined the visual language of the film: flight, and orbit. How appropriate, then, that in this film the theme is arguably gravity. Things that fly fight against it; orbiting planets compromise with it to keep from falling into the sun. And its meaning also makes sense with gravity-as-presence, something that is invisible but is powerful enough to change trajectories and perturb celestial bodies.

Like Abrogena's previous film, the approach is subdued, quiet, a slice-of-life. We see Sam (Nicco Manalo) and Isa (Emmanuelle Vera) five years after the events of the first film, having settled with other partners. For most of the film, there are no histrionics, no dramatic moments. It's an approach that is almost experimental in its execution. The film deftly explores contemporary relationships in a manner that is realistic and grounded. The proceedings sound mundane, but they are immersive, helping reacquaint us with old friends.

The film revels in its stillness, aware that this stillness will not last: Isa is ready to begin a new life with her boyfriend in America, and Sam is ready to take the next step with his girlfriend and fellow teacher. The new year then represents upheaval, a permanent change in status quo. But so far these four characters are traveling unimpeded in space. And there is notable space in between these seemingly normal events: things left unsaid, or only implied. Teary faces, perhaps filled with regret. An uncertain "maybe" to a test of commitment. Resentment towards an invisible sibling. 

When Sam and Isa meet again, it is deep in the third act, but this one minor event changes the movie entirely. The camera spins around them at the point of their reunion: these are two celestial bodies affected by each other's gravity, orbiting each other once more. This perturbation sets the rest of the events of the movie in motion - this time in a fantastic long take with characters going to and fro, like billiard balls careening though a table post-break. The musical cues thereafter are subtle, but the chords remind one of Quest's Walang Hanggan - the theme of the first movie. The stillness is soon shattered, and bubbling emotions reach the surface.

This is the consequence of gravity - the invisible presence of a love story left unfinished, like a script whose ending is erased, like the hollow facade of a relationship that once was, yet one that still stands and holds sway over everything else. Perhaps the film could have fleshed things out a bit more, but there is merit in ambiguity, in things left unsaid. There is no spoonfeeding going on in this film, and we are left to piece the puzzle together ourselves. Whether you ultimately like it or not, Tayo is the kind of film that sticks with you, the kind that can leave you stunned as you leave the theater: a low-key, quiet film that packs a lot of surprises.

Notes on Maledicto

Although its structure is similar to many Filipino movies about ghostly possession, the world of Maledicto treats the supernatural with a heavier dose of skepticism than usual. That skepticism is also reflected in the film's protagonist (Tom Rodriguez,) a priest who ironically specializes in exorcisms. 

This is a world where legitimate supernatural activity is waved away as either mental illness or the effect of drugs, a plot point that, when interpreted in a certain way, has some unfortunate implications. For one thing, what does that say about legitimate mental illness and drug related cases in the real world? Does the film inadvertently trivialize that? In a film where an archaic, corrupt institution sacrifices human lives for the sake of modernization, could that be interpreted as an argument for fundamentalism? Maybe. Maybe not.

Either way, even if viewed under a superficial lens, the film suffers from a number of inadequacies. The film's atmosphere through visuals doesn't quite work thanks to a baffling decision to blur most of the frame. It's as if someone smeared the edges of the camera lens with vaseline. This focal length (or whatever camera setting made these images) is suitable for closeups, but wide shots are particularly unwatchable, with more than 2/3 of the screen a blurry mess. I'm willing to give the movie the benefit of the doubt and chalk it up to a projection problem, but other, similar reports make me wonder.

Rodriguez's Father Xavi is portrayed as a cynical, sometimes smug, maybe even sexist priest, who immediately dismisses the claims of Sister Barbie (Jasmine Curtis). Sister Barbie, though herself a more interesting character than Xavi, is pushed to the side. She possesses supernatural powers that are quickly glossed over and are mentioned only once. Her character is a mix of persistence and weak-willedness. Throughout the film she is ridiculed for her opinions and actions (and Xavi even renames her without her consent, a playful move to be sure, but one that is rife for misinterpretation).

Maledicto feels like the pilot episode for a TV series turned into a feature film. Conceptually, the idea of a demon-slaying priest-nun duo sounds pretty good. But given what Maledicto has shown us, I'd be game watching a sequel to this only after major adjustments are made to the storytelling and visuals.