Adapted from his short story of the same name, Jonathan Jurilla's Love Child begins in a period of transition: Pao (RK Bagatsing) and Ayla (Jane Oineza) are in the process of moving to the province with their young son Kali (John Tyrron Ramos) in tow. Kali has just been diagnosed with autism and is currently non-verbal; in order to cut costs and rent and provide a healthy environment for their son, Pao and Ayla move to a relative's home in Negros Occidental. Kali was born out of wedlock, and both Pao and Ayla have issues with their parents that either abandoned them in their childhood and are trying to reach out, or are not fully accepting of Pao and Ayla's present situation.
Parenthood entails sacrifices, and some parents sacrifice more than most: in one instance Kali shreds one of his mother's certificates. Ayla, a talented debater and promising lawyer, had to cut her career short, while Pao, an equally promising filmmaker, is relegated to screening his award winning films as a side attraction of his coffee cart in order to make ends meet.
The film leans on the casting of Oineza and Bagatsing, both a love team and a couple in real life, by presenting the film as a sort of epilogue to a rom-com. Both characters question themselves throughout Love Child if their decisions prior to the film, to choose the idea of love conquering all, have culminated in a life they would have wished for themselves. While they see colleagues flourishing, they're stuck. It's presented sometimes with cheesy, clunky dialogue, as if to use the conventions of the genre ironically, because this is nowhere near any idealized fantasy version of their life.
It's a bit of a paradox to me, because I see the film as both a tragedy and an incredibly romantic film, without a doubt this couple's most romantic outing ever. It's a tragedy in that these two shouldn't be struggling in the first place - to meet the needs of a special needs child should not be a luxury reserved only for the rich. Had Pao and Ayla not had the privileges of their middle class status, Kali might not even have the capacity to go to school at all; in fact, without the resources needed for specialized care, he might not even get diagnosed in the first place. The film offers a parallel to the story of Ayla and Pao, where both of the parents of an autistic child work abroad, leaving the child in the care of their grandparents, but that is itself an indictment of the material realities such parents, special needs children or not, have to face to take care of their families - to keep it together, families sometimes have to be split apart.
And while it flouts the structure of a rom-com, Love Child still operates on something like an 'ideal' romantic setting: Pao is laser focused on his family, while parents of autistic children tend to divorce or separate at rates higher than the general population. The love fostered by Pao towards his wife and son isn't one borne out of meet cutes or kilig moments, it is borne out of a conscious, everyday decision to love and cherish something bigger than yourself. As I've gotten older over the years, I've found that that is the greatest kind of love you can give.
Long demonized by sensationalist and conservative media (1936's Reefer Madness immediately comes to mind), Marijuana has been looped into harder and more dangerous drugs in the public consciousness, even if it is not as addictive or harmful, and even if some of the active components of the plant have proven useful for a plethora of neurological disorders. The latter isn't even breaking news; studies investigating the benefits of compounds like THC and CBD have existed since the nineties. I'm of the opinion that at the very least, Marijuana should be legalized and regulated for medicinal use (to ensure consistency in dose, etc). And personally, I don't see why it shouldn't be legalized for recreational use, either - if we're going to compare, alcohol, which is legal and widely available in the country, is far more dangerous and detrimental to public and personal health.
BC Amparado's Gulay Lang, Manong! is a spirited argument for the legalization of Marijuana, at least for medical use. Pilo (Perry Dizon) is a farmer in Benguet living with his grandson Ricky (BJ Forbes.) When, by sheer coincidence, Ricky is caught by policeman Ariel (Cedrick Juan), the officer recruits Pilo into a scheme to expose the entire drug 'cartel' in the province.
What follows next is relatively loose and occasionally trippy as Pilo, Ariel and right hand man/marijuana grower Razer (Ranzel Magpantay) deliver a stash of specially cultivated Marijuana called Super Jane to a big and influential client. This is where, in a cliched setup, Ariel learns the error of his ways and changes for the better, but this film's ending is far more complicated. What eventually happens reflects the deeply seated prejudice towards Marijuana in society, a prejudice that has been sustained across generations due to misinformation, a religious culture and an accompanying deeply seated moral anxiety. The shift towards acceptance and legalization takes a paradigm shift, but that shift is slowly taking roots.
That holds true for this film as well: by the end, the seeds (metaphorically and literally) have already been planted. A sideplot in Gulay Lang, Manong! concerns Pilo's struggle to stay financially afloat. He constantly faces exploitation from middlemen and inconsistent demand from shopkeepers. All throughout the film we see farmers dispose of wasted harvests and food left unsold. In one particular scene, out of desperation, Pilo sells two crates of perfectly good vegetables at a huge discount. The film makes an argument not only for Marijuana's health benefits, but also its economic benefits - to farmers like Pilo who are consistently taken advantage of by an unfair system. In its own way, to grow it is to protest that very system.
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