One year after the first Cinepanalo Film Fest graced our theaters, I'm still not completely over the fact that a grocery chain has decided to hold a film festival. Puregold doesn't exactly have cinemas attached to their stores, (for what it's worth, Gaisano does) so I'm not 100% sure what they were trying to go for with this. The fest's propensity to lean towards feel-good (though not necessarily "happy") stories has both upsides and downsides. The biggest downside probably has to be that it limits the kinds of stories that are put out there, acting as a kind of indirect curation. On the other hand, feel good stories don't necessarily mean they are escapist. It all depends on the skill of the filmmaker and how they tie that story into something worth thinking about.
There's a particular scene in Catsi Catalan's Fleeting that to me is the most memorable part of the film: after an extended meet cute, handsome resort owner JC (RK Bagatsing) opens up to his romantic interest/resort guest Gem (Janella Salvador) by taking her to his 'secret spot.' They sit together as they look at the sun sets on the sea and the sky, talking about dreams they keep close to their hearts: Gem wants to be a pilot because she associates it with happier times, while JC is a surfer, preferring to let the waves of life carry him along. It's a lovely metaphor for the two characters, all things considered - though the sea and the sky meet at the horizon, they never really touch, and while planes may leave for destinations far away, the surf always takes one back to the shore.
It's a straightforward, no-frills love story that could have benefitted from a little roughness, because most of the little details are smoothed out, with any conflicts nowhere to be found: JC is supposedly the black sheep of the family but we don't even see his relatives and there isn't a lot of pathos towards his situation, while Gem mostly breezes through her plans with nary a roadblock in sight. I wonder it it's partly because of that 'indirect curation' I talked about earlier. It wasn't a deal breaker for me, but the relative ease may turn off others.
Fleeting takes its time in transitory stillness, dwelling on a sense that the peace and serenity Gem and JC is experiencing is temporary - temporary to those who leave, and to those who are left behind. The tone reminds me a lot of Alec Figuracion's 2018 The Eternity Between Seconds, itself directly inspired by a slew of like films. In these kinds of films (at least for me), the best examples of these films have the setting pop out, and this is one of the few films that have a palpable feeling of Davao as a place - in this case, Mati, Davao Oriental, the City of Beautiful Bays.
Salum reminds me a lot of Allen Dizon's work with directors like Louie Ignacio, films that star downtrodden protagonists on the margins of society making a slew of bad decisions. Thankfully having the film be part of this festival and giving it a relatively feel-good resolution counteracts some of the misery.
The film takes place somewhere in the Gigantes islands, home to an industry of shellfish divers. Kasko (Allen Dizon) is one such fisherman, who lives and dives with his daughter Arya (Christine Mary Demaisip). Kasko is attached to the child, and he knows that while he can provide for her, she has a better future with her mother who works as an OFW.
In his desperation to keep Arya, Kasko chases a pipe dream to the detriment of everything else. Notably, he commits actions that break the delicate balance between divers and shellfish, actions that gain the attention of authorities. Kasko's struggle is backgrounded by the larger issues at hand with regards to diving communities in Gigantes: the lopsided relationship between divers and middlemen, the delicate environmental tightrope that everyone tries to walk, the regulations that make these people comply with walking that tightrope. Kasko's past also alludes to the greater exploitation of fishermen who once owned land in these parts, as his father was scammed out of his land (and the rights of the surrounding waters) by businessmen.
While Salum leaves things open-ended, it leaves things in a relatively good place. It's not the most polished of films out there, but it works as a simple fable depicting our often complicated relationship with the sea.
Have you ever wondered why there are a disproportionate amount of supernatural beings that are female? There's a white lady, but not white gentlemen. While aswang can take male form, more often than not they are depicted as women in legends and popular culture. Why do we have a propensity to "irrationalize" women into something unnatural? And how many of these supernatural 'beings,' regardless of gender, were just eccentric or misunderstood people, ostracized for their quirks?
Tigkiliwi at first seems like a straight up horror film, but it soon transforms into heartwarming drama akin to Sockie Fernandez's Gulong (2007), about a boy whose quest to buy a bicycle leads to the betterment of the people in his community. Here, it's Tata (JP Larroder), who is recently bereaved. Now, it's only him and his sister Marlin (Gabby Padilla) living in their home after the death of their mother; while Marlin works to sustain her little brother, Tata can't help but befriend random people: Pansay (Ruby Ruiz), the old lady who Tata thinks is an aswang, a creepy guy who Tata invites under their bed (Jeffrey Jiruma) and a woman who lives inside the church (Sunshine Teodoro). Tata (and Marlin) soon learn that these people are misunderstood, and they begin to form a small found family centered around Pansay's old cocoa business.
It's heartwarming almost to a fault, and the characters are relatable and even lovable. The problem lies in the fact that the film's tone is all over the place, vacillating from dead serious to warm and fuzzy, and the third act feels rushed. Tata, the main driver of the film, fades into the background once he gets everyone together. Nevertheless, Tigkiliwi means well, and the character's interactions with each other will draw one in.
Have you ever seen a Mr. Beast video? They are, in a sense, freakish works of anti-art. Edited to create a lightning pace, full of transitions and flashing text to keep one occupied, it is a nightmare that is meant to draw in as many audience members as possible, and it has made Mr. Beast the man the biggest (and most probably richest) youtuber of all time. And based on interviews with the guy, living a life that is laser focused on making as much "content" (not art!) as possible, 24/7, 365 days a year is absolutely miserable.
The first, languid half of Jill Singson Urdaneta's Co Love (stylized as CoxLove) shows two content creator couples whose lives revolve around creating inane content for every waking moment of their existence. Clyde (Jameson Blake) and Melody (Kira Balinger) split because Melody wants to vlog everything and Clyde wants some time with just the two of them, while Jared (KD Estrada) and Peach (Alexa Ilacad) have some creative differences with what they want to do with their content. It's all vapid bullshit in the end, made to serve their own personal interests as they use content creation as a means of financial freedom from their respective circumstances. They could just be doing something else, but the rewards are great, and it's not like some of them have a choice; Peach even says at one point she's too dumb to do anything else. While I appreciate the film trying to give dimension and nuance to the whole thing, it is absolutely soporific to someone who simply does not care about content creation. That person is me. This is more effective than a kilo of melatonin infused into my blood.
That all changes near the second half, when Clyde and Jared make a YouTube channel of their own. They make the channel in the hopes that their positivity (and popularity through millions of views...???) will get them back together with their exes... like how does that work? At this point, if you haven't noticed the blatant bisexual lighting and the many, many implications throughout this part of the film, that there's more to Clyde and Jared going on than they're ready to admit to anyone, much less themselves. The film then begins to hook me in: Co Love now becomes a film about being true to one's self...
...is what I'm supposed to say, but the film's ending ruins the whole thing for me, ending in ambiguity that isn't even satisfying. The film's many signs pointing to Clyde and Jared having feelings for each other ends like a wet fart, with the duo raising a golden plaque in the air. Yup, no kissing, no hugging, no admission of love. Just two dudes hanging out with a golden plaque. For a film purportedly espousing the virtue of being true to one's self, it is not true to itself at all in the slightest. It's a staggering feat of cowardice so blatant that I wonder if it was mandated by outside forces, because no self-respecting filmmaker would do this unless they wanted to keep it PG. It is one of the worst and most disappointing experiences I've had in a theater all year.
Most boxing films follow the same formula; that of the down-on-his-luck loser who fights to support himself and go for glory against all odds. The crux lies in how well these films execute these concepts. Christian Lat in particular has made a boxing film before in 2022's Ginhawa, and Journeyman is Lat iterating on his idea of the boxing film.
JC Santos plays Gelo, a talented and skilled boxer who is made to deliberately lose fights for money in order to provide for his sick daughter. I'm not familiar with the equivalent boxing term, but in professional wrestling such fighters are called jobbers. The endless string of losses gut Gelo's spirit, because he knows he can legitimately take on the people he fights and win. An opportunity to catch the eye of legendary boxer Gerry Peñalosa arrives, but he is conflicted: should he lose like he always does, his opportunity with Peñalosa might pass but he gets enough money to support his family during a financially delicate moment. If he wins, he doesn't get any dirty money and only the possibility of future financial reward.
Like in Ginhawa, Journeyman sheds a light on how middlemen and unscrupulous actors move to exploit boxers and make them financially dependent on actions that will ruin them in the long run. Like any other form or labor, the body is made a commodity, but the damage to it is made visible and palpable. Of course, with that exploitation comes the degradation of one's spirit. To his handlers, Gelo is just a punching bag they can exploit, stringing him along with the promise of more money while probably taking in more for themselves.
One's enjoyment of Journeyman hinges on whether you sympathize with the character or not, and that's very much dependent on the lead performance. Thankfully, JC Santos delivers one of the year's best, and by the end of this film, you will want this man to win.
Journeyman may be your standard boxing film, with tropes taken at times to extremes, but you know what they say about the man who practices one kick (or in this case, a punch) ten thousand times... This film is a knockout punch.
Ever since the pandemic, JP Habac has at times manipulated the cinematic form to tell deeply human stories. In Dito at Doon (2021), the growing emotional closeness of its two protagonists is shown by shooting them as if they were in the same room, despite them being separated by quarantine-induced distance, a technique that's been used in subsequent films in the pandemic cinema era. In Love You Long Time (2023), Habac uses a split screen that is almost, but not quite, aligned to show its time-displaced protagonists forming a connection. At first, his latest film Olsen's Day looks like a run of the mill, talky slice of life, but as we progress we find that it is actually JP Habac's most personal, intimate film.
The film takes place in the course of one day: Olsen (Khalil Ramos) works as a researcher for a media outlet. He's tasked with bringing a box of tapes to someone in Manila. He's at a bit of an impasse in his life and career: he feels stagnant at work and is regularly berated by his boss, while at home he takes care of his mother who is suffering from dementia. Olsen's also tasked to have someone accompany him on this trip, and he picks up a father and son duo (Romnick Sarmienta and Xander Nuda). Slowly but surely, the two endear themselves to Olsen as they talk about life, death and everything in between.
Olsen's Day is talky, almost to a fault, as if its characters were speaking as an extension of the filmmaker's own musings. This is intentional. By the end, despite so much having been said, what hits hardest are the unspoken words that linger in conversations that will never be spoken. It's not easy to elaborate without spoiling the rest of the film, so I'll leave it there for now. It seems deceptively straightforward but Habac's clever insertion of certain elements from a certain fantastical genre elevate it.
Nitoy (Enzo Osorio) is trying out for the regional Sepak Takraw team, and he's doing it for a reason: he hates his dad Caloy (Acey Aguilar,) a serial adulterer who abused and abandoned Nitoy's mom to the point where she is now institutionalized. His latest shenanigan is bringing home Nitoy's half brother Ayong (Nicollo Castillo) to live with the family. Nitoy's potential inclusion into the team is a way for him to escape a family life that he doesn't want.
Caloy doesn't exactly look like he's taking the steps to reconcile. While he's remorseful, he doesn't even speak to his son until near the end of the film, and even then they don't hash it out. We don't even see Caloy visit his wife, it is only alluded to in dialogue. Under what we're used to with these kinds of stories, the film is a mess.
Instead, Mes de Guzman tries something different and takes another path. See, Nitoy and his family are part of the Isinay tribe, and the family matriarch (Ruby Ruiz) is seen by the non-tribal community as a crazy woman who is still adherent to the old ways. Caloy's 'redemption' entails, basically, a return to a simpler life with his people. During the third act of the film, Caloy undergoes a purification ritual in order to live a new life. That in itself is not a problem: the problem is that the film is trying to convince me that this is enough to forgive him, and I'm not sure that the film has convinced me.
