The latest film to join the roster of Filipino Netflix Originals is not an award winning film, or a critically acclaimed local film. Instead, Netflix has acquired... S.O.N.S. of Nanay Sabel, starring Ai Ai Delas Alas and her (former) talents, hip hop collective Ex Battalion. This is a surprise for sure, considering Viva has tons of better content to distribute on Netflix instead.
The basic premise follows Ai Ai's most popular contemporary blockbuster, Ang Tanging Ina, but segues into its own thing. None of the titular sons are interesting, and their story arcs are hardly memorable. The film feebly attempts humor, but director Dado Lumibao, as decent as he is, is no Wenn Deramas.
The film is at its best when it is a hip hop musical, departing from its attempts to ape previous successes. There's even a scene where Ai Ai sings in autotune, which I guess is a welcome surprise. "Best", however, is a relative term, as the film is still overall mostly forgettable. This film is best off as something one would put in the background while doing household chores, though to be perfectly honest there are better shows on Netflix for that, too.
I've seen most of Joven Tan's 2010's-era filmography, and because of that I think I at least have the authority to say this: And Ai, Thank You is probably one of his better films. I hesitate to call it good, but there were parts to this film that were quite enjoyable.
The film follows Aileen Dela Rosa, (Ai Ai Delas Alas) a successful actress about to receive yet another award for her performance in a film called "Basahang Salawal." She faints as she receives the award, and predictably, the news is not good. As she deals with her impending death, she takes on a variety of odd jobs and reevaluates her life.
Perhaps Tan and co. were going for something meta with this. The film's protagonist shares her name with the actress, after all, and Ai Ai is a very successful actress in her own right. Tan is best when he lampoons the entertainment industry, and for the first half of this film, that's exactly what he does. Some of it is actually quite hilarious.
But the satire quickly evaporates when the movie transforms into a melodrama about Aileen's impending death. It's probably unintentional, but by this point, the film also touches on topics of class. All of the people in her current life are hangers-on, people who benefit from her financially in some way. One wonders if she would have been held in the same high regard by people who are not financially supported by her. Aileen shares her wealth liberally, but is it out of altruism, or is it because without these hangers-on, she knows she is virtually alone? What if she didn't pay her employees? Would they work for her for free? Where does the "obligation" of help between master and servant lie?
The drama ultimately feels slight and unearned, but the film does raise a number of interesting questions. And the film seems to be going for the moral lesson of "if you go through life, you might as well be kind," and that's a sentiment I can somewhat support, even though the film's arguments in its favor are flimsy at best. And Ai, Thank You is hardly a good film, but at least its more coherent than almost any film that Tan has directed in the past decade.
NOTE: SPOILERS for Indak are present.
A viral video leads to an opportunity of a lifetime for Jen (Nadine Lustre), as she is invited to join a dance group called Indak Pinas for a dance competition. This sounds like an interesting proposition, at least on paper. The problem with Indak, unfortunately, is its execution.
Dance movies can either be self-aware but fun, or dramatic and profound. This film ends up being neither: it instead becomes a ludicrously self-serious drama (complete with dramatic voiceover) that narrates Jen's journey towards... self discovery? It isn't really compelling, at all.
For one thing, Jen isn't an amazing dancer. Sure she has natural talent, but almost everyone else in Indak Pinas is better than her. Vin (Sam Concepcion), the guy who discovered her, seems to be pushing her to be the center of the squad, even though she's the rookie who stumbles in practice and struggles to keep up with the rest of them. During the final performance, she even flubs her choreography at a crucial moment, perhaps costing the team a championship win. Not only that, she is indirectly the reason for several setbacks that seriously compromise the group's chances of even joining the competition in the first place. She doesn't even show up to practice once the group goes to South Korea for the competition proper, and during the big day, prepares in a completely separate room from her teammates. There is no solidarity, no camaraderie, no team spirit - the things good dance groups are built on. Her overly dramatic soliloquies end up feeling glib and self important, even selfish and arrogant.
There is no antagonist in this film other than Jen's own insecurities. The competition is all but a farce, and the competing teams aren't even given time to present themselves as a threat to Indak Pinas. The most exciting thing about a dance competition film is the dance competition itself, and without a likeable character to fall back on, the film doesn't work.
It's best to watch Parasite before reading these (very) short thoughts. It simply is one of the year's best films.
In Bong Joon-ho's 2014 film Snowpiercer, class divides are made evident through directionality, that is, the various factions in the film are segregated from left to right. In Parasite, he turns that horizontal visual analog and makes it vertical. The world of Parasite is an organism, where the head up top is heaven, composed of clean, spacious works of art, and down below is hell, intestines full of parasitic worms, born and bred in shit, wishing to be something more, but realizing that the world is stacked against them.
Sometimes, there is a breakthrough. There are attempts at understanding, at reaching a common ground: commensalism instead of parasitism. But the systems holding people in categories are too strong, leading one character to declare that there are some lines that shouldn't be crossed. There is animosity on both sides: disgust, resentment, envy.
Sometimes, that resentment explodes.
The basic premise follows Ai Ai's most popular contemporary blockbuster, Ang Tanging Ina, but segues into its own thing. None of the titular sons are interesting, and their story arcs are hardly memorable. The film feebly attempts humor, but director Dado Lumibao, as decent as he is, is no Wenn Deramas.
The film is at its best when it is a hip hop musical, departing from its attempts to ape previous successes. There's even a scene where Ai Ai sings in autotune, which I guess is a welcome surprise. "Best", however, is a relative term, as the film is still overall mostly forgettable. This film is best off as something one would put in the background while doing household chores, though to be perfectly honest there are better shows on Netflix for that, too.
The film follows Aileen Dela Rosa, (Ai Ai Delas Alas) a successful actress about to receive yet another award for her performance in a film called "Basahang Salawal." She faints as she receives the award, and predictably, the news is not good. As she deals with her impending death, she takes on a variety of odd jobs and reevaluates her life.
Perhaps Tan and co. were going for something meta with this. The film's protagonist shares her name with the actress, after all, and Ai Ai is a very successful actress in her own right. Tan is best when he lampoons the entertainment industry, and for the first half of this film, that's exactly what he does. Some of it is actually quite hilarious.
But the satire quickly evaporates when the movie transforms into a melodrama about Aileen's impending death. It's probably unintentional, but by this point, the film also touches on topics of class. All of the people in her current life are hangers-on, people who benefit from her financially in some way. One wonders if she would have been held in the same high regard by people who are not financially supported by her. Aileen shares her wealth liberally, but is it out of altruism, or is it because without these hangers-on, she knows she is virtually alone? What if she didn't pay her employees? Would they work for her for free? Where does the "obligation" of help between master and servant lie?
The drama ultimately feels slight and unearned, but the film does raise a number of interesting questions. And the film seems to be going for the moral lesson of "if you go through life, you might as well be kind," and that's a sentiment I can somewhat support, even though the film's arguments in its favor are flimsy at best. And Ai, Thank You is hardly a good film, but at least its more coherent than almost any film that Tan has directed in the past decade.
A viral video leads to an opportunity of a lifetime for Jen (Nadine Lustre), as she is invited to join a dance group called Indak Pinas for a dance competition. This sounds like an interesting proposition, at least on paper. The problem with Indak, unfortunately, is its execution.
Dance movies can either be self-aware but fun, or dramatic and profound. This film ends up being neither: it instead becomes a ludicrously self-serious drama (complete with dramatic voiceover) that narrates Jen's journey towards... self discovery? It isn't really compelling, at all.
For one thing, Jen isn't an amazing dancer. Sure she has natural talent, but almost everyone else in Indak Pinas is better than her. Vin (Sam Concepcion), the guy who discovered her, seems to be pushing her to be the center of the squad, even though she's the rookie who stumbles in practice and struggles to keep up with the rest of them. During the final performance, she even flubs her choreography at a crucial moment, perhaps costing the team a championship win. Not only that, she is indirectly the reason for several setbacks that seriously compromise the group's chances of even joining the competition in the first place. She doesn't even show up to practice once the group goes to South Korea for the competition proper, and during the big day, prepares in a completely separate room from her teammates. There is no solidarity, no camaraderie, no team spirit - the things good dance groups are built on. Her overly dramatic soliloquies end up feeling glib and self important, even selfish and arrogant.
There is no antagonist in this film other than Jen's own insecurities. The competition is all but a farce, and the competing teams aren't even given time to present themselves as a threat to Indak Pinas. The most exciting thing about a dance competition film is the dance competition itself, and without a likeable character to fall back on, the film doesn't work.
In Bong Joon-ho's 2014 film Snowpiercer, class divides are made evident through directionality, that is, the various factions in the film are segregated from left to right. In Parasite, he turns that horizontal visual analog and makes it vertical. The world of Parasite is an organism, where the head up top is heaven, composed of clean, spacious works of art, and down below is hell, intestines full of parasitic worms, born and bred in shit, wishing to be something more, but realizing that the world is stacked against them.
Sometimes, there is a breakthrough. There are attempts at understanding, at reaching a common ground: commensalism instead of parasitism. But the systems holding people in categories are too strong, leading one character to declare that there are some lines that shouldn't be crossed. There is animosity on both sides: disgust, resentment, envy.
Sometimes, that resentment explodes.
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