Ngayon Kaya review: Unexpected Nostalgia

 

What causes a relationship to end? While many a time the cause is easily identifiable, sometimes the reasons lurk beneath the surface, imperceptible to both parties until it is too late. These reasons are shaped not only by the couple themselves, but sometimes by forces larger than either one and out of their control.

When Harold (Paulo Avelino) and AM (Janine Gutierrez) meet again at a friend's wedding, it feels like the both of them have a lot of baggage to unpack. Certainly, their lives have changed since their last meeting. It's obvious that something happened in the past between them, and the film flashes back to tell us why.

The film then intercuts between present day and the couple's college days, when AM and Harold were the best of friends. They obviously have burgeoning feelings for each other, but as per romantic movie tradition, they have difficulty communicating these feelings. The two lead actors express this clearly, and the chemistry between the two actors feels very natural. There is a certain messy quality to how these flashbacks are intercut, as if these memories are struggling to come out after being hidden for so long, images appearing, scattershot, like flashes of lightning in a dark sky.

On one level, the two friends live in completely different worlds; early on in the film, Harold is teased by friends about how his new friend circle speak in a different way compared to them. He has his own personal problems, and aside from his own romantic feelings, he struggles to communicate those personal problems to AM as well. Perhaps the only thing they have in common (aside from their hidden mutual feelings) is their shared dreams, though the end of the film puts that in doubt. In AM, we see a passionate woman with the means to act them out - she obviously comes from a well to do family who wants her to pursue a career path that she doesn't want. 

But AM's weakness - and what partially causes the relationship to fall apart - is her own privilege. It creates a blind spot that she cannot fully perceive, representing ideas she cannot fully grasp. She is in the unique position to live her dreams and she has the resources to pursue something else when those dreams fail. Harold does not, and AM cannot understand those differences. In certain forms, idealism is a privilege to those who have the means. For those who live hand to mouth every single day, dreams stay as they are.

It's a question that's been asked before, notably in films like Irene Villamor's Sid & Aya (2018) and Antoinette Jadaone's Never Not Love You (2018), and director Prime Cruz and writer Jen Chuaunsu make their own spin on the subject. Aside from that, however, is something else: a deep yearning for a life that no longer exists, where living life was simpler and idealism still had sway over our lives. The film repeatedly considers the possibility of alternate paths, what-ifs that would have made Harold and AM's lives far different than they are now. But they (and by extension, we) do not have the liberty to redo things; our choices in the moment make us who we are, for better or worse. This nostalgia manifests itself in many ways: even the title ("how about now?" is a question thinking about these alternate realities and the promise of changing things for the better. This sense of nostalgia is embodied (at least for me) most noticeably in one of the featured songs in the film, Mayonnaise's song Jopay:

Dadalhin kita sa aming bahay

'Di tayo mag-aaway

Aalis tayo sa tunay na mundo

Dadalhin kita sa aming bahay

'Di tayo mag-aaway

Aalis tayo sa tunay na mundo

Sa tunay na mundo

The song, a single from their self-titled 2004 album, is about someone thinking exactly of those what-ifs, wistfully thinking of a life where he and the titular object of his affection lives together in happiness. But that sort of thinking is ultimately folly. Nostalgia is also fantasy; it is merely a way for us to exist an a life that has long past and will likely never come again. It's tragic in many ways - even more so when epitext meets text and forces beyond the film's control profoundly changes its meaning. Both past and present scenes in Ngayon Kaya are from time periods that no longer exist. We no longer live in a world where we can roam freely and watch gigs at Saguijo or Route 196. Some of those places have long closed down, and in this film we are merely seeing their ghosts. We no longer live in a world where we can walk around with no masks or not worry about the threat of sickness or death. The film, produced before the pandemic, was supposed to be released theatrically in early 2020, before the world stood still. It now stands as a snapshot of life just before everything changed forever.

The movie ends on an ambiguous note: one that could either cynically reinforce the idea of pragmatism versus idealism or offer a single, defiant kernel of hope - in that it is never too late to change things and pursue your dreams, all else be damned. I immensely enjoyed Ngayon Kaya, despite its flaws: a technically adept, well-acted romance that, while not Prime Cruz's best, is still worth watching.

The Roundup review: Return of the Beast

 

Ever since his breakout role in Train to Busan, Ma Dong-seok (a.k.a. Don Lee) has been making waves both internationally and in mainstream Korean Cinema. His screen presence is unique, even among peers and character actors who lead some of South Korea's best genre films, and he's definitely not the boyband heartthrob type, but there's something about him, especially in action, that is simply electrifying, 

The 2017 film The Outlaws is a film that fits Ma Dong-seok's screen persona to a capital T: in it, he plays Ma Seok-do, a tough-as-nails, fearless police officer who talks with his fists first and asks questions later. In that film, he helps bring down a Chinese crime syndicate from trying to set up business in the country. It was a hit with local audiences, becoming the third highest grossing film of all time in the country.

The Roundup is a sequel to that film (though to be fair, it functions perfectly well as a standalone film), and it mixes things up. This time, Detective Ma is in Vietnam, trying to catch a Korean criminal. But in the process of that operation, he comes across a much more fearsome adversary: Kang Hae-sang (Son Sukku), a ruthless criminal who preys on Korean tourists visiting South East Asian countries. Thus begins a fast-paced, surprisingly funny yet also very brutal action spectacle that starts off with the pedal to the metal and doesn't let go for the next two hours.

Ma Dong-seok doesn't disappoint; every action scene is a delight to behold, almost effortlessly dispatching perps left and right like a South Indian action superstar. It almost feels like he's in the wrong movie (in a good way,) in that it's like it's not a Korean detective out there kicking ass and taking names, but Gilgamesh from the Eternals punching a man so hard he flies through a bus window. But he's not all about kicking ass: director Lee Sang-yong (who, according to IMDB, has only directed one film prior to this) uses him as a deadpan comedy foil to create genuinely funny scenes that in the hands of a lesser filmmaker would be tonally jarring.

As an antipode to Detective Ma's immovable object is Son Sukku's Kang Hae-sang, a brutal, sinister, nigh-unstoppable force, one that cannot be stopped as he rampages through countries to get what he wants. Wildly different from his role as the morose gangster in the recent Korean drama My Liberation Notes, his turn in the film is just as electrifying as Ma's own, creating a counterpoint to our protagonist, his sharp knives and blades contrasting with Ma's hammer-like fists and brute force.

The film is a breeze to watch (perhaps the breeziest two hours I've spent in a cinema since theaters opened), with genuinely thrilling action sequences that will leave you at the edge of your seat. Fans of Ma Dong-seok will not be disappointed here; perhaps the only criticism I can level against it is I wish it had even more of him in it. The film debuts in cinemas starting today, and I hope people catch it there.

Present Confusion Campus Tour: Short Reviews of UPFI Thesis Films, Ateneo Video Open and Bagong Sibol Dos

Today we'll be talking about a bunch of films from the next generation of filmmakers: the four production theses of the UP Film Institute, Ateneo Video Open and Bagong Sibol Dos (produced in conjunction with UP Visayas.) Making films in the middle of a pandemic is still pretty difficult, even with the reduced alert level.

UPFI Production Theses

The UPFI thesis defense program was fully online and made available to the public. Much of the program consisted of defenses of non-production theses, either to pitch a movie idea, or to discuss a particular scholarly topic about film. Watching the former, even when there is no finished product (yet), is fascinating. Seeing the process of ideas to film, discussed and dissected by colleagues and fellow filmmakers, can be just as engaging as seeing the finished product itself.

Because of pandemic limitations, only four students managed to produce films. That in itself is quite the achievement, given the limitations of budget, location, and resources available to filmmakers at that time, much less younger, newbie filmmakers. There is the film Kubling Kulay, a story of repression made visual through its treatment of color. Films about pandemic anxieties were not in short supply - Sukat and Looped approached it in different ways. The former expressed these anxieties as claustrophobic spaces, often filled with various forms of violence; the latter expressed these anxieties as repetitive yet stagnant moments of time that blurs the boundaries between one minute and the next.

But my favorite of all four films is Mad Red, a documentary about a person (also the filmmaker's younger sister) living with a diagnosis that affects her menstrual flow. At first the film tackles how this person deals with their illness and how it is perceived by the people around her, but then it evolves into a larger conversation about how we still hesitate to talk about what are, for all intents and purposes, normal bodily functions and how that reflects on how society views women as a whole. It's so conceptually rich and so layered. It's honestly one of my favorite shorts of the year.

Ateneo Video Open

KTX recently re-aired the Loyola Film Circle's Ateneo Video Open, featuring short films from student filmmakers from all over the Philippines. The entire collection (more than four hours long!) contains films that I've seen before, such as Vincent Joseph Entuna's Ang Amomonggo sa Aton, and JT Trinidad's as if nothing happened (both are good for different reasons.)

Among the documentaries that caught my attention are Kambalingan, about Marawi and the city it used to be, as compared to the city as it is now, and Spacebound, which uses its viewpoint to look at how our children are being educated, how it has changed over the past two years, and how that is affecting their eventual future. There's also Pasilong, a film that shows how trauma, a degraded self image, and emotional pain can affect people over the years through words and distorted ideologies. 

There were also a bunch of narrative films that were fun to watch: Kubli and Sina Alexa, Xander at ang Universe approach the same topic (of sexual repression) in very similar ways, though the former is a lot more bleaker and tragic than the latter. Another film that approaches the same topic would be The Misfit, which takes a very cute and humorous approach to the whole thing. Films like Ang Huling Hukuman have concepts that are nothing new (a similar short was featured just last year), though it does pull a number of twists that are interesting. There are also films like Slapjack Confetti, which is mostly humorous nonsense but you can tell the filmmakers are having fun with the material. It's almost surprising the same collective of filmmakers were responsible for A Year to Breathe, a sci-fi film with visual effects that would rival many local productions. The latter two shorts are available on YouTube.

Other narrative films were more contemplative, such as Safety Shots and how it looks at footage that would otherwise be forgotten, or From You, 60 Years From Now, which is a spoiler onto itself, or No Exit, exploring the various social dimensions and repercussions of a sexual assault. And although I wasn't a big fan of Yours in a Variant (oh you sweet summer children), there's this quality to its naivete that interests me. I'd be interested if these filmmakers redid the film in 10 or so years to see how their views on love have changed.

Bagong Sibol Dos

Last but certainly not the least Bagong Sibol Dos has a lineup of shorts that, in all honesty, is the most impressive of the bunch given that these are student films! There's Itom Nga Bugas Kanaryo Nga Ugat and Biboy and the Sigbin in the City, which both used metaphor and myth to examine contemporary social issues (the former, also quite effective as a horror film).

There's also 'nara, a narrative film-as-therapy that is also a personal reflection on the filmmaker's own regrets, and the well-made and charming Always a Little Bit Mad, about the most timeless of stories: a boy and a girl. Longing and dance intertwine in Sayaw sang Buhi, reminiscent of one of my favorite local films Ang Sayaw ng Dalawang Kaliwang Paa. And the downfall of a relationship intersects with interesting usage of split screen with on the rocks.

But perhaps the most impressive of all the shorts I've mentioned in this entire article is Maria Kydylee Torato's Si Oddie, a social realist pandemic story that hits very close to home. The storytelling at play is frankly impressive, peeling back layer by layer of its story until it reveals its bleak entirety.

There are many other films (and film ideas) that I've not mentioned in this piece, but I think they're all worth watching! Though Ateneo Video Open has finished, many short films are available elsewhere. Bagong Sibol Dos, on the other hand, has its last day today as of this writing, so please catch these very nice shorts while you can.

Rise, Roar, Revolt: A Period Bromance for the Ages

 

You might have heard some buzz regarding RRR in certain social media circles, about how both westerners and non-westerners alike have been blown away, or how theaters showing the film are still going gangbusters even though it came out a few months ago.

Since the rest of this review is me gushing about the movie and probably spoiling everything in it, here's all you need to know: watch this film if you have the opportunity, preferably in Telugu, and preferably on a big movie theater. Out of all the blockbuster movies released in the world this year, this is one of the best of them: a riveting triumph of maximalist storytelling that sticks with you in one form or another long after you've left the cinema. It doesn't quite reach the epic scale of Baahubali, but RRR is a fantastic film on its own, cementing S.S. Rajamouli as one of the best blockbuster filmmakers living today.

The overarching premise of the film is pretty simple: what if two real life historical figures, both revolutionaries who never met, were actually besties and had awesome superhuman abilities? While historical fan fiction can vary from total goof fests like Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter (2012) to serious, contemplative fare like Hele sa Hiwagang Hapis (2016), RRR is pure 100% spectacle: part musical, part bromance, part balls-to-the-wall action film, part rousing, chest-thumping anti-colonialist call to revolution.  At this point in time, Komaram Bheem (N. T. Rama Rao Jr.) and Alluri Sitaramaraju (Ram Charan, whom Rajamouli worked with in proto-Baahubali fantasy film Magadheera (2009)) are not (yet) the revolutionaries Indians know in history books: the former is a tribal leader tasked with finding a kidnapped girl, while the latter works as a police officer for the British Empire. They develop their friendship not knowing their respective allegiances, as things come to an inevitable conclusion. Spoiler alert but not really: it gets really wild.

As Bheem and Ram, water and fire, reach the ends of their respective story arcs, they learn the value of revolution and reveal their own intentions to fight back against their colonizers: for one, it is a direct, physical kind of empowerment - through arms, knowledge and ideas. For the other, it is the spiritual empowerment that comes from igniting the fervor of all those who desire liberation from oppression.

It's this visual and lyrical poeticism that struck me more than the over the top (yet infinitely enjoyable) action sequences. Near the end of the film's second act, Bheem is tied up and tortured. He must kneel to the British Empire and confess his crimes in front of a large crowd. A leaf caresses his cheek and it hits a puddle on the platform he is on. Bheem sees the reflection of his face on the water, which is his visual theme. He then sings a song, a prayer to himself, that declares: if he submits to the oppressor, what worth is he as a leader, as a pillar of his community, as a child of the forest? As he is repeatedly beaten and tortured, he does not lose his composure. Eventually he faints without ever kneeling, an action that deeply moves everyone present: in Ram, it makes him question his motives; in the people watching, it ignites a fury that explodes as they rush the stage. Jr. NTR acts the hell out of that scene, honestly one of the best parts of the entire film. Here it is if you want to be spoiled.

The climax of the film is as ridiculously awesome as I expected; perhaps even more so. People familiar with the palm tree catapult scenes in Baahubali 2 will know the level of action that I'm talking about. But even if, at face value, things look absolutely ridiculous, for many of the people that have seen it (including myself) it's welcomed rather than treated as silly.  Of course they (the protagonists and Rajamouli both) would have the audacity to do what they did in RRR. Over the course of the film, we get to know these two people and we believe they really could have been friends, and that they could be capable of anything. Without resorting to metanarratives or appealing to "fanboy" tastes, RRR is cinematic spectacle at its most enjoyable. 

p.s. It's also interesting to note the level of intertextuality in RRR where the texts it references are different than the usual things that we see in Western Media (Rajamouli himself has admitted incorporating elements from texts like the Ramayana and Mahabharata in his works, and many South Indian revenge films follow the same basic structure).