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.