There's been a bit of discourse going around, especially in the context of the upcoming US presidential elections, about the utility of elections themselves - especially when you consider the fact that for some people, voting for either candidate offers little material difference as many of their policies (for example, in the ongoing genocide in Palestine) aren't so different. For others, it seems obvious that voting against the clearly unhinged candidate with immediate detrimental effects towards minority groups should be the imperative choice, even though they don't exactly like the seemingly saner alternative. It boils down to a question of elections as a moral choice versus a utilitarian action, and whether the two concepts could coexist.
There's a tinge of frustration that can be felt all throughout Kip Oebanda's Balota, perhaps some of it borne from the results of the recent national elections. This sentiment is felt most palpably at the end. It's easy to fall into the trap that the movie is cynical about our state of affairs, but I believe it offers a more pragmatic look at the situation at hand.
The film follows Emma (Marian Rivera), a teacher in a small town not unlike any other in our country. In the Philippines, most of the grunt work of the elections falls on the shoulders of teachers like Emma, and they are tasked with maintaining the integrity of the vote. As the gaudy political ads in the beginning of the film show, neither candidate running for mayor is appealing: Hidalgo (Mae Paner) is firmly in the establishment, and her promises of "continuity" means the continuity of her own financial and political interests. On the other hand, the unsubtly named Edraline (Gardo Versoza) promises change, but the ominous macho symbolism and the aforementioned name that evokes past dictators doesn't exactly inspire much confidence in his integrity either.
When Emma and her fellow poll worker are ambushed in order to seize the votes and declare a failure of elections, Emma barely manages to escape with her life. Now followed by goons that she believes are in the employ of the incumbent Hidalgo, she decides to go to Edraline in order to protect the vote. Emma seems to be the most dedicated to protecting these votes, while most of her fellow townspeople, well aware as to the farcical nature of the election season, are seemingly more concerned with their own survival. Two of those fellow townsfolk, Ehrmengarde (Esnyr Ranollo) and Babe (Sassa Gurl) find themselves campaigning for either candidate, even though their actual political affiliations are different - they're just working and hustling for their own benefit.
What happens next with Emma is a tense and fairly entertaining genre exercise where it's a cat and mouse game between Emma and her pursuers. At least for a while, it's made ambiguous as to who exactly is behind it all, but ultimately, does it matter? The film's climax focuses not on either candidate as a solution to the problem at hand, but on the capacity of the people themselves to enact change. As one character states in the film, change doesn't happen overnight, in the course of one election. Even in an electoral system where each detail is controlled by those in power, it's important to continue to participate in democratic processes like elections, make utilitarian decisions if needed and elect pro-people candidates into power, but it is also equally important to participate in mass actions, protests and other such movements to hold people in power accountable. The frustration at the very end of the film is understandable, since this is a never-ending process and one that taxes the mind and soul, but that doesn't mean we should give up.
Balota isn't subtle in presenting its thesis, and it's a lesson that (hopefully) doesn't go over the heads of the relatively progressive or liberal-leaning crowds at Cinemalaya, though the true test is going to be with reaching audiences outside of the fest.
*
Cinemalaya 2024 Shorts B Short Reviews
Thanks to conversations with other people who have seen the set at different times or in different theaters, I've found that the order of these films varies depending on the screening. From a programming and thematic standpoint, there is an optimal order for watching these films and that's not going to be the case if they are randomized, and in my case, the order wasn't the best. Either way, here are some reviews:
Ryan Capili's I Was Walking on the Streets of Chinatown touches on similar ground as contemporary JT Trinidad's the river that never ends and like people, they change too, in that both films metatextually comment on the utility of memory (and to an extent, nostalgia) on ever-changing urban topologies. We create films with memories about places that no longer exist, paradoxically rendering them immortal and lamenting their death at the same time. Though Trinidad's films include the detrimental effects of capitalism on physical and temporal spaces in their films (especially the river that never ends), Capili's approach is still pretty mesmerizing, it's final frames showing spaces without the people that dream of them.
To elaborate on my previous short review of Sam Manacsa's Cross My Heart and Hope to Die, the film's title and structure is built on promises, either by unscrupulous employers or by aggrieved individuals. The point is that promises, once meant to be social contracts, unbreakable and set in stone, are now used to exploit people, dangling unmaterialized rewards above desperate people's heads in order to gain their fealty (or at least, their begrudging support.)
Alexandra Brizuela's Mama intersects much with last year's Maria, with both films tackling similar concepts. I feel that the former is a much better presented film than the latter, if only for the fact that its shorter runtime helps it laser focus on the topic instead of meandering towards other subjects. Candles are used as a sort of motif in this film - in funerals, candles are used to signify the continuation of the deceased in spirit, and the continuation of their life, in memories, after death. But in birthdays, these same candles celebrate the burning of a life that lives on, despite hardships and suffering, one that stays aflame even when time relentlessly marches on.
Mariposa is relatively straightforward as documentaries go, and lets its powerful central story speak for itself. It is filled with powerful and indelible images - in one scene, various victims of abuse vent out their anger and frustrations, perhaps the most striking visualization of trauma I've seen in a while.
And finally, the casting of Meryll Soriano as the lead of Sonny Calvento's Primetime Mother is an inspired choice - her father, for one, is best known for hosting the types of shows the short film criticizes, and at one point, in 2006, 73 people died in order to gain a spot at one of his shows. Much like his previous Excuse Me, Miss, Miss, Miss, Calvento's film is about an exploitative culture that leads into that exploitation's absurdity, where people are dehumanized and treated as replaceable, their main commodity being their 'stories' and their ability to use their pain as entertainment.
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