I've talked here and there about how Filipinos are obsessed with the mistress or kabit film, in that it perhaps reflects audiences' desires for drama and conflict where, ostensibly, no "actual" people are harmed. In Ten Little Mistresses, the first original Filipino film for the Amazon Prime streaming service, Jun Lana pushes that notion to the limit - like mistresses, well, here's ten of them! - while also questioning the very idea of these films in the first place.
Ten Little Mistresses introduces each of the titular mistresses with the same pomp and bombast as a South Indian action star (or a member of the Suicide Squad) with matching costume to boot. They've all been invited at the behest of their lover, the filthy rich Valentin (John Arcilla), who wishes to tell them something important. His announcement, however, comes as a shock to the ten: Valentin has taken in an eleventh lover, the blue-eyed majordomo Lilith (Eugene Domingo) and plans to marry her. The ceremonies are interrupted by Valentin's untimely death, and everyone in the house is a suspect. As the mystery behind the murder unravels, everyone (especially Lilith) comes closer to a very uncomfortable truth.
While the film's promotion constantly emphasizes its large and talented ensemble cast, in terms of tone this leans close to Eugene Domingo's other comedies and takes large inspiration from Filipino camp classics such as Joey Gosiengfiao's 1980 classic Temptation Island. The film takes great pleasure in having each of these characters riff off of each other, their humorous asides being some of the best parts of the film. At the same time, there are similarities in structure to Lana's far more serious Barber's Tales (also starring Domingo), in which the lead character comes to a realization and learns the meaning of dissenting against a broken system. Here, Lilith discovers (if not the existence, the breadth and depth) of the patriarchal system that has chained her and her fellow paramours. Each of the ten mistresses are accomplished and successful in their own right, yet they rely on a man (who is, in some cases, twice their age) for their needs. The movie never fails to ask why. "Maybe it's love, maybe [I'm just stupid,]" quips Babet (Marietta Subong), one of Valentin's first mistresses. The far younger Coco (Iana Bernardez) remarks on this too: despite being acutely aware of the system, she can't help but participate in it. Perhaps some of us have asked the same questions ourselves when we watch this: what makes this man worthy of the love of ten women? Why are they wasting their time doting on a fellow that 1) perhaps treats them more as trophies than people and 2) will easily leave them for his next conquest? The same questions can be asked of the genre in general - the film being a deconstruction of the genre as much as it is a parody.
It is fitting that Lana gives Lilith that name - Lilith, after all, was the first wife of Adam before Eve came along, the first wife who was cast out of the garden of Eden because she chose not to obey Adam. In the film's conclusion, Lilith gains a sort of emancipation for herself and all the other women in Valentin's house, casting herself out of a false paradise where her existence is forever tied to someone else.
Ralston Jover's Latay has an interesting history: originally produced a few years ago, the film made the rounds on the festival circuit before finally debuting in local cinemas, more than two years after it was produced. It bills itself as a story about a battered husband but the film delves a little deeper than that. Though flawed, it goes into interesting places.
Olan (Allen Dizon) is the titular battered husband of the story. His wife Lori (Lovi Poe) inflicts all sorts of physical and emotional violence on him. He tries to seek comfort in an old flame (Mariel de Leon) but she's already with someone else. Lori doesn't take to this perceived indiscretion kindly and retaliates with even more violence. And Olan isn't the best of husbands either: he is a drunkard, he shirks his responsibilities and is annoyed and jealous at Lori's friends.
The film shows the condition of battered husbands like Olan, as well as his lack of support from either friends and family. But the thing that Latay explores more is the environment that causes people like Olan and Lori to exist. Olan and Lori's parents are just as bad as they are: Olan's dad (Soliman Cruz) turns to drinking after his wife left him, and Lori's mother (Snooky Serna) is perpetually strapped for cash, ill-mannered and lacks respect for her children (or for anyone but herself, really). More than just a film about domestic violence, Latay is a film about violence itself, how poverty molds it, how people are surrounded by it day after day, and how the heritage of violence is passed on from parent to child.
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