In the world of Dustin Celestino's Utopia, the Philippines is much like what we are right now: corruption, toxicity and bad behavior is systemic, their malignant roots invading everything. It's far removed from the modern definition of a Utopia, or even the utopia described in Thomas More's book. Utopia the film tells several stories, each connected in one way to all the others, a crime-riddled clusterfuck waiting to happen.
And as the plot threads begin to intersect and people start dying, things get pretty engaging. It's the kind of crime thriller that serves a certain audience, and understandably the sheer volume of narrative threads can be read as excessive by some. Not for this reviewer. The tone is loud, edgy, confrontational, but that's kind of the point.
A capable crime drama such as this could've been adequate by itself, but the ending of Utopia poses this question: with how things went in this movie, what if this crapsack world really was a Utopia, or at least, an idealized version of what we normally expect? What if, in the real world, things were far more cynical? The film then poses a challenge to us to help bring forth such a "Utopia," an ideal that may be far more pragmatic and closer to home, but an ideal that we can all attain by challenging the system in our own small ways.
The coming of age film is built upon a certain translation of reality through innocent eyes, filtered and reinterpreted by a child's imagination. Often in such films we see heavy, darker things made light or inconsequential because the witness, almost always a child who doesn't know better, cannot process these ideas properly. But what if that filter creates monsters?
In Tia Madre, Camille (Jana Agoncillo) is tormented by her unhinged mother (Cherie Gil.) Camille believes her mother has been replaced by an otherworldly creature, but it's unclear if her thoughts are real or if she's just making it up; the film keeps it a mystery and gives us the choice whether to believe Camille or not.
It's abstract at times, flavored with fantastical imagery bordering on horror, a freakish version of Nervous Translation. Perhaps not coincidentally, Jana Agoncillo was the lead on that film as well. Sometimes it works, sometimes it does not. But ultimately as the film reaches its symbolic conclusion, there's a feeling of release, even though the film continues to hold out from giving any answers to the bitter end.
The protagonists of Denise O'Hara's Tayo Muna Habang Hindi Pa Tayo treat their relationship as a sort of Schrodinger's Cat, in that if they don't observe it (i.e. acknowledge its existence), they can live in blissful ambiguity all they want. This tentativeness of a non-relationship feels safe, even though it's tempting to just go and take the step forward.
That's pretty much the premise of the movie, with both characters trying (and mostly failing) to reconcile the nature of their relationship with each other for the next hour and a half. They're both deeply flawed, and may come across as unlikeable to some, but their neuroses stem from major trauma from the past or from a stubborn attitude to love that doesn't exactly help the proceedings.
The film is staged nicely at parts, but it doesn't quite reach the romantic mumblecore heights of its sister film That Thing Called Tadhana. It's a capable romantic film, even though it could have benefited from establishing the odds and ends of the (non) relationship a little bit more.
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