For Alvin (Carlo Aquino) and Bree (Charlie Dizon), every day is a struggle. In the opening sequence of Dwein Baltazar's Third World Romance, this anxiety manifests itself in a restless camera and a single take. There are no cuts, no breaks; you have to be hustling or you risk losing money. There's no time for anything else.
But of course something does happen, and Alvin and Bree make the time for it. They slowly but surely form a relationship together, one that's filled with the well worn but welcome tropes that we've been privy to for as long as cinema has been a thing. But there are no trips to exotic, faraway lands, only familiar, humdrum places. There are no rich future-in laws opposed to the union, just normal people living their own lives. There are no fancy meals, not even at a Samgyupsal place - only the illusion of one, albeit one that is no less 'real' to our couple.
And as they try to navigate through their situation together, even as society is unfair to them, all they want is each other's happiness. But in these times, even falling in love feels like a radical act. Those at the top would prefer it if those at the bottom would stay divided, fixated on their own survival. At first it would seem that way, and many local films have ended pragmatically (should I say cynically?) But the working class man's strength is his solidarity. One cannot fight for their rights alone. In this film, it works both in terms of Alvin and Bree's relationship and their relationship with their fellow employees.
And as such, for Alvin and Bree, to love despite the odds, to wish for another's happiness, to speak truth to power, takes more than a little bravery. Sure, the world may be unfair, or it may be falling apart, but when you're fighting back against it one little step at a time, it's better if you have someone to hold your hand while you do it.
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