MMFF 2023 | Penduko, Kampon, When I Met You In Tokyo, Mallari

 

Created by national artist Francisco Conching, the character of Pedro Penduko draws from a rich tapestry of Filipino folklore. Using his skills, insight and magical tools, Pedro Penduko uses his abilities to fight evil and protect the land. Perhaps Filipinos will be familiar with earlier versions of the character, such as a two movie series where Janno Gibbs played the titular hero, or the long running TV series starring Matt Evans. Either way, this film seems like an interesting way to reintroduce the character to a whole new generation of fans. But what ultimately happens to many superhero films - a long production process and script changes - seems to have happened here in some capacity, leading to a pastiche of superhero and franchise tropes that work in some parts, while faltering in others.

Penduko (Matteo Guidicelli) lives an otherwise unremarkable life in the city, using his powers to get high and scam perya employees (not necessarily in that order). Helping fellow bettors is 'collateral damage', as he usually does this for his own gain. One day, he is recruited into a secret organization of local sorcerers whose task is to ostensibly fight evil and protect the good guys.

This part of the film looks like it draws from many different sources: Harry Potter, My Hero Academia, similar school-themed anime and other media. Penduko is a bright student and he learns to excel in healing and warding off curses, which is done as fights in a separate virtual/mental space. At least in this regard, the worldbuilding works well to create an interesting milieu for our friends to play in.

But then one notices that the uniforms are military coded, and sorcerers are referred to as agents. The subtext isn't very subtle here. Penduko then finds itself under the umbrella of a different organization, one that operates 'outside' the fantasy world's 'law,' but one that, in essence, isn't as different as the organization he originally came from. The movie comments on the notion of systems and groups (meant for the common good of all) that are ultimately co-opted in the service of a few. The film also asks the moral question of how exactly do we go about extinguishing a clear and present evil: that is, if we become tainted by that evil in the process, is it worth it? Does the end truly justify the means?

That's all and good, but unfortunately, like director Jason Paul Laxamana's other forays into genre (Pwera Usog, Instalado) they serve as setup for an idea that's not completely fleshed out by the end. What happens to the organizations Penduko leaves? What about his friends? What are the repercussions of the events of the film in this world that I honestly want to explore more? This film feels like the first part of a series and is barely a self contained story. If Viva has plans to expand the series that would be fine, but if the series stops here, then that would be very unfortunate. This isn't necessarily Penduko's problem, but a problem of franchise filmmaking in general.

Matteo Guidicelli does his best in the role, but I feel he is miscast (if anything, he'd be a good fit for the character of Saki, I think). His being a half foreign actor playing a half foreign character seems to be a holdover from a past version of the script, when James Reid was still attached to the role and the character was depicted having a mixed heritage. I don't think Reid would've been an improvement over Guidicelli, though given that the premise of the film (and Penduko's heritage?) is now different, maybe someone else would be suited for the role. Heck, Alamat did a great ending song for this film, get one of them to play the part.

Penduko feels like a film from MMFF's past. It has a ton of very interesting ideas, but the ideas don't always work out.

When I was a child I always imagined having at least three children - maybe a boy and two girls. Decades later, I no longer want children - in this economy? With my pittance of an income? But relatives and friends often ask me and my wife when we're going to have children. We mostly avoid the question now as we don't want to waste time on arguments.

For Clark (Derek Ramsay) and Eileen (Beauty Gonzalez), it's the opposite - they want to have a family but they can't. Clark's impotence weighs down on him, and after many attempts at IVF, he's all but given up and the couple is considering adoption. The first half of the film builds on this tension, wrapped in mundane domesticity, as the two of them grapple with that and various other family matters.

That all changes when Jade (Erin Espiritu) comes to the home. Jade's appearance upends the family dynamic, and while Eileen dotes on the child, Clark is disturbed as he discovers that he has a connection with the child.

Kampon bears many of the hallmarks of its writer Dodo Dayao (Midnight in a Perfect World, Violator). The film finds its terror in strangeness, in weird, unsettling things lurking in the background, in things from which we derive safety ("footage horror" - that is, scary images on recorded media, on CCTV screens and elsewhere - has a steady presence in the film). The film also alludes to the terrors of parenthood, showing us the fears and anxieties of raising a child. There's one scene at a birthday party where a belligerent, spoiled child makes unreasonable demands - a scene that honestly scares me as much as any decapitated corpse (owing to my job occasionally autopsying people, I honestly prefer the corpse).

It's quite unlike anything we've ever seen in the MMFF, and it makes for a legitimately entertaining experience. There are some parts where the film's ambition outpaces its resources. For example, an animated picture of a fetus might have been better rendered in live action, and while the CGI works most of the time, sometimes it doesn't. But that's not necessarily a bad thing; if anything we need more ambition in this festival, and Kampon is brimming with it.

In a strictly formalist sense, there isn't much to say about When I Met You in Tokyo. There isn't much conflict in this movie for its two characters, played by the venerable on screen couple of Christopher De Leon and Vilma Santos. Their issues (mostly with their family members back home) are neatly resolved by the first hour mark. In addition, the film doesn't touch too much upon their lives as overseas workers - the Japanese people who work with and employ them accept them wholeheartedly (one even repeatedly gives Christopher De Leon gifts for some reason or another.)

But the film serves its intended purpose. I watched this film at the Premier Cinemas at the Shangri-la Mall. For those not in the know, cinema prices at the Premier Cinemas are pricier than this upscale mall's normal cinemas. Nevertheless, the theater was mostly full, and mostly consisted of middle aged and elderly women - including myself, I counted three men, and the other two came with what I assume are their wives. I'd even bet that I was the youngest person in the theater aside from the ushers. These are people who have probably spent most of their lives with these two actors, from Tag-ulan sa Tag-Araw (1975) to Dekada '70 (2002). 

At one point in the movie, when Azon (Santos) and Joey (De Leon) were frolicking in the snow, the woman in front of me exclaimed, "ang ganda!" She was probably referring to the snow, but probably also to the couple, who at this point had spent 90 minutes being cute together. The crowd laughed every time the two of them called each other "bru" (short for bruha/brujo), an insult that eventually became a term of endearment. They laughed at the jokes and the light ribbing, they felt kilig at the various jabs, and the thing is, it's hard not to get swept in that emotion - by the time the film ended, I was 100% with that crowd, vicariously living this screen couple's romance. Even if, as a person who reviews films, I find the film flawed or lacking, it nevertheless fills up all the places that it should.

The first half of Derick Cabrido's Mallari is a whirlwind of various scenes that at times feels too convoluted: there's the serial killer priest (Piolo Pascual) who killed 57 people in the 1800s, there's his descendant John Rey (also Piolo Pascual) who is obsessed with finding out the truth behind his infamous ancestor, and there's Jonathan (also Piolo Pascual), who is haunted by future visions where his fiancee Agnes (Janella Salvador) lies dying. The three are connected by a dark secret, but what is it? Why are people still dying in this small town in Laguna even though the killer priest has long passed on?

This first half is the weakest part of the film as it tries to set everything up. As it plods along its three central plotlines, it occasionally veers into filler that only serves to pad the runtime and does little to advance the plot. It is also plagued by frequent and honestly unnecessary jump scares as Jonathan and John Rey are haunted by various apparitions - the ghosts of their ancestor's victims.

But once everything falls into place, something wonderful emerges. Mallari is one of my favorite films in this year's festival, if only for its sprawling ambition and how it manages to meet that ambition in many parts. A mix of alternate history fiction, fantasy and horror, Mallari brings us a singular MMFF experience that has probably never been seen in any previous edition of the festival, and will be unmatched for years to come.

Aside from the various liberties to historical events, I appreciated the fact that the three main characters are not one-sidedly good or evil - in fact, even the characters that are overtly antagonistic do what they do not out of malice, but out of justice: they want to cleanse the world of evil, and this is the means that they will take to achieve that goal. Interestingly, in terms of theme, Mallari sets out to make the same point as Penduko, (the ends justifying the means, getting tainted by evil by extinguishing evil) but this time the film succeeds in doing so. Righteousness is not always good - it only means a dogged belief that one is right, regardless of whether that belief is warranted or not, or whether or not that belief springs from a good place.

MMFF 2023 | Broken Hearts Trip, Rewind, Firefly, Family of Two

 

Broken Hearts Trip opens with auditions for the titular reality show, where three "judgers" (Tart Carlos, Jacklyn Jose and Christian Bables) try to weed out contestants based on their sad stories. Many contestants are just there for the clout and are quickly dismissed, but the panel quickly zeroes in on four contestants: Ali (Marvin Yap), who loses his business and his lover over a series of unfortunate events; Alex (Andoy Ranay), a businessman who repeatedly goes back to a partner who cheats on him; Bernie (Iyah Mina), a clothing designer who falls in love with a younger man who uses her for her money; and Mark (Petite); who loses custody of his child with his partner (Arnold Reyes) due to their separation.

The introductions to these characters made me empathize with their individual stories, and there's a lot here to appreciate. For one, the world of Broken Hearts trip is one where same sex partnerships are at least recognized to some extent (in Mark's case, where there is talk of custody and a lawyer is present) and how, in the absence of partnership, some LGBTQ+ people become breadwinners and caretakers for their families (in Bernie's story).

The movie, then, has an opportunity to explore the lives of these people through their individual heartbreaks. But here is where the movie disappointingly falls apart: because it is a reality show competition, the whole enterprise feels exploitative (the characters even lampshade that fact in one particular scene and a running gag has Bables repeatedly naming sponsors.) Not everyone gets adequate time (a fifth contestant, Jason (Teejay Marquez) barely gets any scenes, and he lasts pretty far) and while some contestants get at least some measure of closure, others, frustratingly, get nothing. It's made even worse by the twist reveal of a sixth broken heart, which makes all these stories moot, as if they, sob stories and all, were just used for an ulterior end.

That's not all: there's a shocker in the middle of this film where a television production admits to covering up literal crimes happening on the set, though thankfully it backtracks later on, perhaps aware of the problematic nature of that idea. It still comes across as pretty weird, considering the details of what happened.

It's a shame, because there are so many things in this movie that could've made for a good film: part of the credits is a musical sequence that isn't half bad; why not lean on that? Why not just remove the reality show elements and make it a roadtrip (sponsored by LCL travel and tours) instead? Or maybe even trim down the number of 'participants' to the most interesting stories? My heart was broken watching Broken Hearts Trip because it holds the promise of so much more, but falls short of achieving that.

Note: Spoilers.

John (Dingdong Dantes) is a businessman who is always on the go, to the detriment of his relationships with his loving wife Mary (Marian Rivera) and his son Austin (Jordan Lim.) It all comes to a head when several unfortunate events befall John, leading to a car accident that takes the life of his wife. It is there where he meets a certain quirky carpenter with time travel powers (Pepe Herrera) who allows him to live the day before the accident - but at a substantial personal cost...

Many people have made comparisons between Mae Cruz-Alviar's Rewind and Gil Junger's 2004 film If Only, and I totally agree - this is just If Only but with Jesus Christ as a supporting character. The religious aspects affect the story as now there is a reason for the time travel and there is supposed to be a moral lesson behind it.

While this series of events will probably be okay for some, to me it feels a little weird. John's arc throughout the film is a redemptive one, and even though the film makes it clear that no one can truly change in one day, his death (and not necessarily his actions) is the catalyst for his family to thrive - Jesus just up and makes poor John a martyr for a greater purpose. In GomBurZa, it works but here it feels a little off, since John isn't necessarily standing for some greater ideology or belief, he's just a dude who neglected his family and wants to set things right, and he can only achieve that by dying? In the hands of an omnipotent deity that can do everything, wouldn't it be more productive to, you know, let John be an even better person? Here it seems like he's a blood sacrifice, blood for the blood god. 

Various other storylines suffer because of the limited time John has during his second change. A meaningful exchange with his estranged father (Lito Pimentel) hints at a deeper history between the two - and parallels between John and his mother who died early - but it goes by a little too fast. Mary's own desire to return to being a chef is also hinted at, but is mostly reduced to dialogue. Maybe Rewind could have been better served if it modified the structure of If Only a little more to let its characters breathe.

But hey, I'm not going to go all doom and gloom in here. The melodramatic aspects of the film worked for me, mostly thanks to the chemistry between real life husband and wife Dingdong Dantes and Marian Rivera, and there were moments in this film where I felt legitimately emotional. Heck, I even called my wife after watching the film, and remembering certain moments and emotions from Rewind, hours after having watched it, still made me feel the feels. It's okay but overall has some flaws.

Tonton (Euwenn Mikaell) is a bright young boy who loves drawing and listening to stories from his mother (Alessandra de Rossi.) But one day, his mother suffers from a short illness and dies, promising to meet him again in an island of fireflies. Spurred by the notion of possibly seeing his mother again, he escapes and takes a road trip to that location, meeting various people along the way.

Zig Dulay's Firefly is bookended and interspersed with scenes featuring an adult Tonton (Dingdong Dantes), who recalls his experience to an editorial assistant (Max Collins) whose boss believes that Tonton's stories don't belong to him or were otherwise lifted from somewhere else. There's no indication why that person would think that way and it eventually becomes a non issue, so I am not sure why it needs to be here. It's not necessarily detrimental, merely unnecessary.

We all love a good story, and we all love listening to good storytellers. Good stories help the heart heal, help us confront our traumas, and help soothe painful pasts. Tonton's companions, who help him in his journey, all have their own individual tales to tell - they are people reeling from betrayal, holding dark secrets, wanderlust brought about by a hesitation to return home. Perhaps most importantly, stories help uplift others, and through a mother's love as expressed through one particular story, Tonton and his companions all find something - not necessarily the thing they want, but definitely the thing they need.

The idea of a quality family friendly film in a post-Vice, post-Enteng MMFF has been floated for many years now, and in my opinion this movie embodies that. If this film represents the future of the MMFF, then it looks pretty good from here on in.

Maricar (Sharon Cuneta) and Mateo (Alden Richards) are as close a mother and son duo as they come. They tackle problems together, support each other and have a certain level of attachment (or possessiveness?) to each other, though not to unhealthy levels.

This character dynamic and this slice of life tale of an emptying nest reminds me a lot of the emptying nest-est of emptying nest films, Yasujiro Ozu's Last Spring, where an old widower looks to marry his daughter off in order to live her own life, while she'd rather stay and take care of her father. In Nuel Naval's Family of Two, the outcome of a similar situation goes in the opposite direction to Late Spring, which I attribute to cultural differences.

A potential romantic partner for both Maricar and Mateo (played by Tonton Gutierrez and Miles Ocampo, respectively) seems like it would eventually become a source of conflict, but no meaningful conflict arises between mother and son, as any problems are quashed almost immediately. Whatever happens in the film feels very slight as a result. This isn't necessarily a bad thing for me, and to people who want to enjoy the character dynamic without any fuss, I think this slice of life approach will do just fine for them. 

The last act of the film veers into something quite different, when Maricar decides to continue the things she had to sacrifice in order to raise a family, but it comes out of nowhere (it would've helped if it was alluded to earlier) and it all feels a little underdeveloped.

Those looking for any dramatic stakes will no doubt find the film lacking and the premise thin, but as it is, while flawed, it isn't a bad time at the movies.

MMFF 2023 | GomBurZa

 

What makes a martyr? Is it what they did in life that turns them into one? Is it what they stand for? Or is it something in between that makes them what they are? 

This story needs no spoiler warning because even if we don't know the specific details, we all know how this ends: three priests were executed in 1872 for allegedly fomenting rebellion against the Spanish colonial government. It's captured here in Pepe Diokno's GomBurZa in very precise detail: the film is very much concerned with adherence to historical events and accounts. Much of the first half is just talking; consisting of committees and meetings that don't exactly have the same momentum and drive of other historical films. That isn't exactly a bad thing. It exists in contrast to Jerrold Tarog's approach in his cinematic universe of local heroes, where emotions and themes drive the story forward.

Diokno's approach serves a threefold purpose: first, its emphasis on historicity places value on the nature of truth and truth-telling, in a world where 'alternative' historical accounts meant to serve a purpose fester in the internet and even this year, in cinema; second, in humanizing the three martyrs, they are not glorified in the same way many hagiographies do - they are not necessarily supermen or beings blessed with divine gifts - they are just people like you and me caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The third, and perhaps most important purpose to me stems from something that grew out of a number of conversations I had after watching the film. One point raised in those post-screening conversations is to ask: what exactly did these three men do to deserve such reverence, and how was it portrayed in this film? Gomez, Zamora and Burgos are passive characters in their own movie; things mostly happen to them instead of the other way around. Compared to other Filipino heroes from throughout history, GomBurZa did not lead battalions of soldiers or assassinate key historical figures at the expense of their own life. Instead, they taught their students the value of equality. They preached the word of their God in its purest form - he, after all, welcomed the sick, the poor, the free and the enslaved, the Samaritan and Jew in equal measure, that no man is above another. To the colonizer, nothing is more radical, because in true equality under God there are no hierarchies of race or status, and without hierarchies, how can the colonizer justify his subjugation?

Perhaps more important than the question of "what makes a martyr?" is "what does a martyr represent?" and in the last act, we are shown why these three sparked a revolution. The execution scene is wonderfully shot; possessing a somber tone, mostly absent the histrionics and drama, in a sky with no sun but still with light in the horizon (here, the 'blue hour' represents both twilight and dawn, the beginning and end of ages.) We are made to sit and watch with that audience in 1872 as three innocent men are killed for the ideas in their heads, and the experience is simply intense - the last act of the film is one of the best scenes in Philippine cinema for the year. In their final conversations before their execution, these martyrs-to-be converse about fate, answering the rhetoric of what action did they do to deserve such reverence - that is, their deaths are that action. Their deaths give their lives meaning and fulfillment, enabling them to achieve their dream of equality, of an identity as "Filipinos" - not by their own hand, but by the collective actions of the people they inspired. That's the essence of martyrdom. There's nothing more Christ-like than that, don't you think? Merry Christmas.