notes on SONS of Nanay Sabel, And Ai, Thank You, Indak and Parasite

The latest film to join the roster of Filipino Netflix Originals is not an award winning film, or a critically acclaimed local film. Instead, Netflix has acquired... S.O.N.S. of Nanay Sabel, starring Ai Ai Delas Alas and her (former) talents, hip hop collective Ex Battalion. This is a surprise for sure, considering Viva has tons of better content to distribute on Netflix instead.

The basic premise follows Ai Ai's most popular contemporary blockbuster, Ang Tanging Ina, but segues into its own thing. None of the titular sons are interesting, and their story arcs are hardly memorable. The film feebly attempts humor, but director Dado Lumibao, as decent as he is, is no Wenn Deramas.

The film is at its best when it is a hip hop musical, departing from its attempts to ape previous successes. There's even a scene where Ai Ai sings in autotune, which I guess is a welcome surprise. "Best", however, is a relative term, as the film is still overall mostly forgettable. This film is best off as something one would put in the background while doing household chores, though to be perfectly honest there are better shows on Netflix for that, too.

I've seen most of Joven Tan's 2010's-era filmography, and because of that I think I at least have the authority to say this: And Ai, Thank You is probably one of his better films. I hesitate to call it good, but there were parts to this film that were quite enjoyable.

The film follows Aileen Dela Rosa, (Ai Ai Delas Alas) a successful actress about to receive yet another award for her performance in a film called "Basahang Salawal." She faints as she receives the award, and predictably, the news is not good. As she deals with her impending death, she takes on a variety of odd jobs and reevaluates her life.

Perhaps Tan and co. were going for something meta with this. The film's protagonist shares her name with the actress, after all, and Ai Ai is a very successful actress in her own right. Tan is best when he lampoons the entertainment industry, and for the first half of this film, that's exactly what he does. Some of it is actually quite hilarious.

But the satire quickly evaporates when the movie transforms into a melodrama about Aileen's impending death. It's probably unintentional, but by this point, the film also touches on topics of class. All of the people in her current life are hangers-on, people who benefit from her financially in some way. One wonders if she would have been held in the same high regard by people who are not financially supported by her. Aileen shares her wealth liberally, but is it out of altruism, or is it because without these hangers-on, she knows she is virtually alone? What if she didn't pay her employees? Would they work for her for free? Where does the "obligation" of help between master and servant lie?

The drama ultimately feels slight and unearned, but the film does raise a number of interesting questions. And the film seems to be going for the moral lesson of "if you go through life, you might as well be kind," and that's a sentiment I can somewhat support, even though the film's arguments in its favor are flimsy at best. And Ai, Thank You is hardly a good film, but at least its more coherent than almost any film that Tan has directed in the past decade.

NOTE: SPOILERS for Indak are present.

A viral video leads to an opportunity of a lifetime for Jen (Nadine Lustre), as she is invited to join a dance group called Indak Pinas for a dance competition. This sounds like an interesting proposition, at least on paper. The problem with Indak, unfortunately, is its execution.

Dance movies can either be self-aware but fun, or dramatic and profound. This film ends up being neither: it instead becomes a ludicrously self-serious drama (complete with dramatic voiceover) that narrates Jen's journey towards... self discovery? It isn't really compelling, at all.

For one thing, Jen isn't an amazing dancer. Sure she has natural talent, but almost everyone else in Indak Pinas is better than her. Vin (Sam Concepcion), the guy who discovered her, seems to be pushing her to be the center of the squad, even though she's the rookie who stumbles in practice and struggles to keep up with the rest of them. During the final performance, she even flubs her choreography at a crucial moment, perhaps costing the team a championship win. Not only that, she is indirectly the reason for several setbacks that seriously compromise the group's chances of even joining the competition in the first place. She doesn't even show up to practice once the group goes to South Korea for the competition proper, and during the big day, prepares in a completely separate room from her teammates. There is no solidarity, no camaraderie, no team spirit - the things good dance groups are built on. Her overly dramatic soliloquies end up feeling glib and self important, even selfish and arrogant.

There is no antagonist in this film other than Jen's own insecurities. The competition is all but a farce, and the competing teams aren't even given time to present themselves as a threat to Indak Pinas. The most exciting thing about a dance competition film is the dance competition itself, and without a likeable character to fall back on, the film doesn't work.

It's best to watch Parasite before reading these (very) short thoughts. It simply is one of the year's best films.

In Bong Joon-ho's 2014 film Snowpiercer, class divides are made evident through directionality, that is, the various factions in the film are segregated from left to right. In Parasite, he turns that horizontal visual analog and makes it vertical. The world of Parasite is an organism, where the head up top is heaven, composed of clean, spacious works of art, and down below is hell, intestines full of parasitic worms, born and bred in shit, wishing to be something more, but realizing that the world is stacked against them.

Sometimes, there is a breakthrough. There are attempts at understanding, at reaching a common ground: commensalism instead of parasitism. But the systems holding people in categories are too strong, leading one character to declare that there are some lines that shouldn't be crossed. There is animosity on both sides: disgust, resentment, envy.

Sometimes, that resentment explodes. 

Cinemalaya 2019 x Eigasai 2019: Lying to Mom, Still Human, Bamboo Dogs, Istorya ng Pag-asa

(No) thanks to inclement weather, I was only able to catch the last three films of Mga Istorya ng Pag-asa, a Humans of New York-ish batch of positive stories about our countrymen. It's refreshing stuff if all you've been seeing recently is bad news about the Philippines.

The three stories that I watched were varied and are not just about people overcoming hardships in life - they're about mental health, or discovering a craft for the first time even in old age, or being a trailblazer in a relatively unknown artistic scene.

The films are packaged in little five-minute sized bites, and I hope more people get to see them.

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Japanese dramas about grief are not uncommon within its cinematic landscape; films like Departures (2008) or The Long Excuse (2016) portray grief within the context of the individual bereaved. But Katsumi Nojiri's Lying to Mom expands its view a bit to encompass the larger family. What results is a quirky, touching family drama that stands out from its other Eigasai batchmates.

After the tragic suicide of the Suzuki family's only son Koichi (Ryo Kase,)  the Suzuki family deals with the tragedy in different ways. Patriarch Yukio (Ittoku Kishibe) tries to enter a soapland for an unspecified reason. Fumi (Mai Kiryu), Koichi's younger sister, has trouble articulating her feelings in a grief support group, and harbors resentment towards her brother. And finally matriarch Yuko (Hideko Hara) loses her memory of the events in question, leading her family to lie to her in order to shield her from the truth.

Koichi's death is sudden, tragic, seemingly meaningless. He's a hikkikomori (a term used for people who have willingly isolated themselves from society) and the reasons for his self exile are only hinted at and are not completely understood by the family. There's also a glimpse in this film of how Japanese families treat their hikkikomori: as an embarassment to be placed under the rug instead of something to be dealt with directly. The Suzukis are left to grope in the dark, searching in vain for meaning that eludes them.

It's funny, touching and poignant all at the same time, although the film had trouble finding its ending. As it is, Lying to Mom is a wonderful addition to the Eigasai roster. Catch it if you can.

The power behind Still Human, Oliver Siu Ken Chan's depiction of the relationship between a paralyzed man and his domestic helper, is in its capacity for empathy. It treats its two subjects with grace, without being cloying or mawkish.

This is a story of two people finding each other, both marginalized in a sense by their communities. Evelyn (Crisel Consunji) faces a lot of challenges as a domestic helper and has to give up her dreams in order to live a better life. Cheong-wing (Anthony Wong) has been more or less abandoned by his family, leaving him to fend for himself. Their relationship is professional, but soon evolves into a mutual kinship and an acknowledgement of each other's humanity.

That acknowledgement only serves to make the dramatic moments pop out when the narrative begins to move towards melodrama. It makes a lot of these moments utterly bittersweet and emotionally resonant.

Still Human also reflects on the perception of immigrant workers in Hong Kong, in that they exist here only to take advantage of their masters for monetary gain. But here, the rigid, societally-defined lines between helper and employer start to disappear, leaving only two people with their own dreams and aspirations trying to live life one day at a time.

In the post-screening Q and A of Khavn's Bamboo Dogs, he mentions that he is a fan of the films of Carlo J. Caparas. But while Caparas glorifies the crime and paints its criminals as inhuman demons, Khavn turns that around and portrays them as human beings. Like in his earlier Balangiga (2018) there is an emphasis not on historical truth per se, but on narrative, experiential truth - in both films, there is an imaginative reinterpretation of past experiences to lampshade current events and to deliver a message. Hermeneutics trump documentation, for the past, present and future are one.

Bamboo Dogs is mostly a van ride through the River Styx, and its passengers are people who do not know they are already dead. For the van (in real life, two vans) is the setting for the Kuratong Baleleng rubout, a high profile case that lead to the deaths of 11 people, allegedly members of a dreaded crime syndicate. It's restrained and subdued, mostly devoid of the twisted pomp and circumstance of the director's earlier films, but no less effective.

The film begins with a minutes long single take, and the edits grow shorter over time, the film itself growing increasingly anxious as the van careens towards its macabre destination. It finally gives way to darkness, disorientation, quick cuts and gunfire, then an abstract sequence of innocence lost, perhaps never gained in the first place.

Cinemalaya 2019: Vahay and Tataya, Iska, The Third Wife

Today's batch of reviews begins with two documentaries about Batanes - Vahay: The Ivatan House and Tataya: The Ivatan Boat. Both are comprehensive and talk a lot about the history, geography and culture of the small island province. Vahay is perhaps the most fascinating of the two because the film goes deep into the construction process of these houses, designed to withstand even the strongest typhoons, yet without the benefit of modern construction technologies like concrete.

The two films also pose an interesting paradox: the traditional house and boat are important cultural artifacts, but because of environmental laws meant to protect Batanes and its natural resources, these traditional things are getting harder and harder to make, since they require a decent amount of trees, stone and coral to build. The Vahay and Tataya are slowly becoming a thing of the past.

Both documentaries are informative, engaging and tailored to educate even the most clueless viewer. 

Theodore Boborol's Iska follows its titular character as she tries to survive the circumstances of her life. She takes on multiple jobs to stay afloat, she has to deal with a layabout, philandering husband, and she also has to take care of an autistic grandson abandoned by his mother.

The film deftly balances misery with dignity. Compared to this year's deathly bleak Jesusa, Iska has some humor in it, and for most of the film it doesn't feel like the fates are mercilessly trolling our poor heroine for the fun of it. The misfortunes that happen in Iska's life have roots; they are a product of the system failing her in so many ways. It is exactly a film that shows how hard it is to be poor, because it really is hard to be poor; with the proper storytelling, it doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing.

There's one scene where Iska has just faced a major setback, and she sits in the middle of a group of UP students. One assumes they could just actually support her, maybe give the poor woman some money. Instead, they chant their activist slogans, lampshading her plight. There's a disconnect here between theory and practice: these students are fighting for the bigger picture and to fight systemic problems, but to the poor person just trying to survive, such words feel empty. Both perspectives are valid, and it's interesting to see it play out here.

Ruby Ruiz is exceptional in this film. Owing to her skill as a veteran character actress, Ruiz breathes life into Iska's character and turns her into someone we can empathize with, someone whose trials and tribulations we come to understand deeply. I have problems with the ending perhaps devolving into irony or pure miserablism, but it also helps show what happens when social support systems are gone. It's a call for empathy for our fellow man in a way, and I can get behind that.

For the characters of Ash Mayfair's The Third Wife, the lush, beautiful mountains surrounding their small village might as well be a gilded cage. Because of the rules and conventions of the time (the film takes place in 19th century Vietnam), women are married off or become servants while men do the work.

The film begins with one such girl, 14 year old May (Nguyễn Phương Trà My) as she is married off to a wealthy husband. The first few minutes are silent and devoid of dialogue, a means to immerse and to express the rhythms of everyday life. She figures out the social structure in the household and begins to lead a relatively quiet, idyllic life. But behind that idyll May begins to experience a sexual awakening of her own, and a desire for true freedom begins to form. 

However, those ideas are no more than a pipe dream at this point. May soon finds out that the women in this house (and in society in general) are no better than breeding stock, no better than cattle left to die when they are of no more use. In this world, these women have no other comfort but with each other, and a sort of sisterhood forms between them. On the other hand, while she forms such a relationship with fellow wives Ha and Xuan, it soon becomes clear that they are in a race to produce a male heir for their husband. 

The film gives these women a voice to speak, relegating the males to the background (in fact, the husband probably doesn't have more than 10 lines in the entire movie.) May and the other women in the film fight and struggle in their own small ways, but entrenched traditions and patriarchal systems are seldom toppled overnight. When the artifice is peeled away, the cage is stifling, and death seems like a viable option. But the film does offer a bit of optimism in the end in the form of a literal light at the end of the tunnel, a promise of better things to come.

Cinemalaya 2019: Children of the River, F#*@BOIS

Maricel Cariaga's Children of the River follows the lives of four children who live in a quiet rural town. For a good chunk of the movie, they do stuff that kids normally do: play around and have fun, fall in and out of love, and deal with other mundane concerns. However, there's something in common regarding these four friends that feels a bit different: they all wait for phone calls in the morning from absent fathers.

The film takes its time and moves along at a leisurely pace. For the most part, it focuses on the coming of age of Elias (Noel Comia Jr.,) as he deals with his burgeoning sexual awakening. There really isn't much conflict to the whole enterprise, and any problems are actually quickly resolved. The film seems to be taking a gentle approach to the whole thing.

The film then unloads its central revelation on us, and reveals the secret behind the peculiar setup established at the beginning of the film. It may prove to be emotionally resonant to some, but to me it felt a bit slight compared to everything that went on before.

Children of the River reminds me of another Cinemalaya film about childhood and the loss of innocence, Carlo Obispo's Purok 7. But there's a sense of wonder in the older film that this film doesn't quite have, and that trickles down to the rest of the film.

Eduardo Roy Jr.'s filmography is shaping up to be more diverse than it started out to be. His follow up to the introspective and meta Last Fool Show begins like yet another of Roy's social realist tales, but ends up being a tense politically flavored thriller that ends just before things get really interesting.

There are many small details in F#*@BOIS that hint at a bigger world going on behind the scenes: a political conspiracy, cogs turning, people doing shady things. But since it's told through the perspective of these two... well, fuccbois, they are mostly oblivious to what's going on.

Nevertheless, certain events in the film lead to its central conflict, which sets up a series of very tense scenes. The tension begins to build a half hour in and doesn't stop. It's made even crazier thanks to a committed, demented performance by Ricky Davao. 

The film's greatest weakness is that it just ends after a certain point. It leaves open a universe of speculation, and it would've been interesting to explore what happens to the titular fuccbois after the credits have rolled. What we are left with is the very entertaining, prematurely cut first half to what could have been a great film.

One final competition entry on Wednesday. In the meantime, a couple of classics (if schedule permits.) See you guys at the movies.

Cinemalaya 2019: Malamaya, Edward, Pandanggo sa Hukay, Mystery of the Night, Shorts B

Although Malamaya shares similarities with fellow competition film Belle Douleur in that both are films about May-December romances, Malamaya takes a different, artful approach compared to Belle Douleur's conventional route. It's also a film about artistry, originality and how pain translates to art.

The story itself is pretty straightforward. There's an older, beautiful woman and a hunky younger man. The woman looks young for her age, but she feels stagnant, held in place by her own biases. When they meet and sparks fly, sexual energies consume them both. Ideologies of old and new start to clash. Three films in, contemporary Philippine cougar cinema is starting to form its own tropes.

But the movie adds layers to the simple story, making this also a generational divide between artistic schools of thought, the old guard taking inspiration from the new, and vice versa. It challenges ideas of appropriation, which is itself incompatible with the idea of remix culture. Art does not need to be created de novo, it can be molded from other things to create something new and meaningful. In this film's case, art can be created by filling in deep wounds, weaving in pain and turning it into beauty, filling its boundaries with the color of ash - the ashes of a relationship that once was.

Thop Nazareno seems to have mastered the art of simple, grounded stories that prove bittersweet at the end. In the Philippines, patients are not the only people admitted into hospitals; they bring with them a bantay - a family member or helper that helps with miscellaneous things, buys equipment or medicines, and helps the overburdened medical staff do their thing. It's an experience I know all too well, having served as a bantay myself, and having worked in hospital wards much like the one in the film.

The heart of Edward is a sweet and simple story. Its titular character is a prepubescent boy who spends his time in the hospital messing around with friends, watching patient drama in the ER and morgue, and so on, while his father is admitted for an as-yet unknown disease. He then encounters Agnes, a new patient in the ER who is just his age, and forms a friendship with the girl.

Edward's story is a coming of age story, in that he learns a lot of lessons about family, friendship and life. It's poignant and some of it is quite emotionally affecting. Granted, the ending could have been paced out a little bit more (and certain aspects of the ending may not be to everyone's taste) but it it works out as it is.

And when one looks at the bigger picture, Edward the film shines the spotlight on several other things that contribute to the struggles of Edward the character: an ongoing shortage of medical personnel, a brain drain where medical professionals are lured abroad, lack of adequate laboratory equipment leading to outsourcing, crowded wards full of patients, intrahospital corruption and illegal practices.

Edward is a film with a very human core, where the full spectrum of the human experience is laid out before us: happiness, joy, sorrow, filial and romantic love, grief. It's a definite standout and a film to watch out for.

note: Medical nitpick: A Sputum AFB usually takes a day, but a Sputum Culture can take weeks.

Note: Spoilers for this film are present.

Speaking of the plight of medical workers, Sheryl Andes' Pandanggo sa Hukay shines its spotlight on our nation's midwives, unsung heroes who help bring new life into the world every day. While it starts strongly, a sudden shift in tone in the film's second half negatively affects the rest of the film.

The film follows a midwife (Iza Calzado) as she prepares for an upcoming interview in order to leave the country and better provide for her young son. The first half of the film is a light comedy. Like fellow competition entry Edward, the film uses the comedy to look at various systemic problems plaguing our country's overall reproductive health: lack of knowledge, making children beyond one's means, the exodus of health workers due to dwindling domestic prospects.

The second half of the film does a complete 180 and transforms the movie into a kidnap thriller. It's jarring and although it has some comedic elements, the results are pretty disturbing and off-putting. Sexual assault also figures into the script which felt contrived and unnecessary, making most of the film's antagonists into cartoonishly evil villains instead of people. There was an opportunity here to further shine a spotlight on the plight of our midwives, but the film takes the most garish option available in the service of an ending that tries to say "these people have gone through so much for their families, how noble." Perhaps we should stop using sexual assault as character development like this, guys and gals.

And that's what the second half of this film felt like: a setup for an ending that felt like it was written before everything else. It's supposed to be serious and/or profound, but it ends up being ridiculous.

That's not to say the film was great before that: it's well acted, well shot, and held a lot of promise. But one rotten apple really does spoil the bunch.

Let's now move on temporarily from the competition entries and look at Adolfo Alix's Misterio de la Noche, a horror fantasy film starring Solenn Heussaff. The film tells the story of the first Aswang and ties it in with ideas of colonialism, sexual power and even feminist ideas. The film's central legend has been done before with films like Corazon: Ang Unang Aswang (2012), but while that film took place during the Japanese Occupation, this film uses the Spanish occupation as its backdrop.

This time, the film is about a woman (Mercedes Cabral) whose rape by a member of the clergy drives her insane. She is captured and brought to the forest, where she gives birth to a child. Said child is then raised by spirits of the forest. The child, now an adult (Solenn Heussaff) encounters Domingo (Benjamin Alves), the son of the mayor who banished her mother previously, and the two of them form an intense relationship.

Their encounters are charged and sexual, though the man predictably leaves her for the forest. The film becomes allegory: for the destruction of wildlife and indigenous cultures by western powers, for the usurpation of the female role as equal with a western patriarchal equivalent. It is notable that the depiction of women as the embodiment of traditional-non western ideals is a trope that is repeatedly seen in many Filipino films. In this particular case, the woman wreaks supernatural revenge on the man and his ilustrado family, a rejection of western influence. The Aswang in this film is not evil per se, but driven both by feelings of desire and betrayal.

The film does have a few imperfections. It ends up a bit silly at times, it feels stretched out, and the story is predictable to a fault. It's balanced by wildly imaginative shadow play, decent, committed performances by both Heusaff and Alves, and impressive CGI and practical effects work. The film embodies Alix's trademark weirdness and Alix manages to create something interesting out of it.

WE WANT SHORT SHORTS SHORT SHORTS B REVIEWS

Hele ng Maharlika is inspired by the Marawi Siege. In it, a child soldier encounters another child in a now dilapidated house. It's largely symbolic, but it manages to show us that deep down, without all the labels of religion and nationality, we are all children of God.

I saw Don Senoc's Sa Among Agwat when it was a thesis film at UPFI last year. Even now it proves to be emotionally resonant, even though the story is well worn. It's proof that with the right director, cast and crew, simple stories can be elevated into something greater.

To the T'boli, threads are everything. They serve as lines from the world of the living to the world of spirits. In Tembong, a T'boli is haunted by dreams after his mother's death, and challenges the gender norms of his own tribe by using those dreams to weave a T'nalak, a sacred cloth whose creation is reserved only to women. It's conceptually rich, well made, and it shows how threads between mother and son are stronger than the threads that bind one to societal expectations.

In Kontrolado ni Girly ang Buhay N'ya, Girly just wants to work to provide for his family. However, discrimination and sexual harrassment gets in the way. It's heartbreaking and a little hard to watch, but if it lets viewers experience, in even a small way, how members of the LGBTQ+ community are oppressed every day, then the film has done its job.

The excellent Shorts B ends with Sheron Dayoc's The Shoemaker, a cute and lovely tale about an old shoemaker (Sherry Lara) reconnecting with her first love (Soliman Cruz.) It's funny, crowd-pleasing and packs an emotional punch at the end.

Three competition films left. See you later at the movies!

Cinemalaya 2019: John Denver Trending, Tabon, Belle Douleur, An1: The Harvest, Shorts A

A missing iPad is the catalyst that sets in motion the events of John Denver Trending. We are shown these events, unfiltered, and we know that the person in question is innocent. However, a confrontation occurs, and a classmate takes a video that leads to a harrowing, Kafkaesque nightmare.

When the video goes viral, the actual investigation is overshadowed by a trial by publicity. Everyone believes that John Denver is guilty of a crime he did not commit, and no logical argument or lack of evidence can tell them otherwise. Of course, the strain takes a toll on the poor boy, and while he may have been guilty of misbehavior previously, the public lynching is not commensurate to his misdeeds.

This is the first Cinemalaya movie that truly addresses the beginning of the age of fake news, where people are easily manipulated to believe whatever they want through social media and sensationalism, their decisions fueled by emotion rather than reason. It's been touched upon before in films like Jason Laxamana's So Connected, but not as deeply as it is here. Something in the Filipino psyche is primed to believe fake news, itself an evolved form of chismis. In this new era where anything and everything can be filmed, context is thrown out the window, and narrative is king. One's narrative does not need to be truthful, it only needs to be plausible, believable and emotionally resonant. The implications of this are scary, and the film delivers that feeling of dread with a very stifling, tense atmosphere all throughout.

John Denver Trending is an exceptional first film for director Arden Rod Condez, and so far my favorite film of the festival entries.

A mystery also forms the center of Xian Lim's Tabon, but in this case, the mystery holds on to its secrets too tightly, and by the time everything is revealed, it is too late: one's investment in the movie is virtually non-existent. While some say that it is better to show and not tell, this film does neither. It does not show, and it does not tell. 

In Tabon, a man (Christopher Roxas) is investigating the death of his father. We learn that his father is some sort of religious figure. There are three suspects that claim to not have committed the crime, and Roxas is invited to witness their interrogation.

The actual meat of the story does not occur until at least 45 minutes in; the first half of the movie is a slow, dull slog that does little to reveal anything or to build an atmosphere of dread. If there was any atmosphere built during the first half of Tabon, it would be an atmosphere of boredom.

Once things really kick off, things get weird, and not necessarily in a good way. It's supposed to look disturbing, but it ends up bizarre, kitchy and even silly. A number of revelations punctuate the work, but the film holds on to its secrets so tightly that we are given no context or suspense, and the twists that come feel like they were pulled out of nowhere.

Dull, inconsistent and at times ridiculous, Tabon is this year's Cinemalaya dud. Tread carefully.

The May-December romance is a popular topic in this year's Cinemalaya (as we will find out later), a trend in contemporary cinema that was perhaps kickstarted by Connie Macatuno's Glorious (2018). Based on a true story, Belle Douleur is about Liz (Mylene Dizon), a woman in her forties who falls in love with antiques connoiseur Josh (Kit Thompson). 

The characters are layered and quite interesting, and it's clear a lot of work has been put into making them fully fleshed out characters. Liz is a child psychologist, a profession that deals with dealing with younger people. Josh is an antique and loves old things. Liz has just come off from losing her mother, and expresses the sudden loss of the caregiver role by trying to care for her new boyfriend. Josh, on the other hand, grew up without a mother, although he does not exactly want another mother figure in his life. The character dynamics that skirt on Oedipal notions are my favorite part of the film.

The film also tackles the various issues older women face when dating younger men. There are conflicting perceptions, differences in generational thinking, differences in ideas regarding raising kids and childbirth. Liz begins to realize that such relationships involve a lot of compromise, and that she may be preventing Josh from realizing his dreams.

The romance itself is cute, tender, nuanced, and intense. The film was co-produced by streaming service iWant (who also produced Glorious) and it's something I could see reaching a wider audience. 

Belle Douleur is an enjoyable romantic film, and proof that romances don't need to always be about young, beautiful people. Although the ending feels truncated without a major climax (pardon the pun?), the road to get there is pretty satisfying.

Ani is a ridiculously ambitious film. Set in the year 2050, it is the festival's first science fiction film. It follows a young boy (Zyren dela Cruz) as he comes of age and meets a robot companion named Ani. But Ani is a warbot, used by government megacorporations to control the populace, and despised by the farmers that live under the corporations' hegemony. 

It is no question that the film is a marvelous technical achievement. The VFX may not be perfect, but when it works, it's marvelous, an unprecedented achievement in Philippine cinema. The world of Ani is a fully realized, living, breathing world, built on effective production design and special effects.

That said, the film has its share of problems. There are pacing issues at the start of the film. These opening scenes pay off later, but may have been better used as flashbacks. The titular robot does not appear until almost an hour has passed, which may be due to technical limitations. And the editing could have been made a little tighter to make the film a little more accessible to kids, which seems to be the film's target audiences.

This brings us to the film's perspective. As a kid's film, it's written in a kid's perspective, and that perspective limits the world that we see on screen. It masks some of the larger social issues the film is trying to touch upon, such as the plight of farmers and systemic oppression by capitalists and governments (a staple of sci-fi wherever you look), and it limits the film's resolution. It isn't necessarily a bad thing, but the best children's films often give you a sense of wonder, and unfortunately Ani struggles to deliver that in places.

Ani is a great idea, and given time and a little more effort it could be the film that it wants to be. In its current state, however, it ends up a bit short of that goal. Personally, I'm happy that people took a chance on this film and it got made in the first place.

WE WANT SHORT SHORTS SHORT SHORTS A REVIEWS CINEMALAYA EDITION (bakit walang Gardenia sa labas? huhu)

Gatilyo deals with PTSD and is decently acted, though it feels a bit loose and could have made its point in half the time. 

This year's crowd pleaser is Heist School, where two students plan to steal test papers from their teacher's desk. It's written like a heist film and it's a fun ride from start to finish. One wonders whether Bad Genius influenced the making of this film in any way.

Sa Gabing Tanging Liwanag ay Paniniwala's English title is Belief as the Light in Darkness, and it shows, as the film is literally very dark (the projectors at TNA didn't do this film any favors, either.) It's a bit too obtuse and overlong for me. This one needs a rewatch somewhere brighter.

Disconnection Notice follows two brothers living in a small apartment: it's not clear what the older brother does outside the house, but he is left to clean and look after his younger brother, who is studying either nursing or medicine (either way, both mentally and physically exhausting courses.) The film implies a lot of things, but wisely lets us figure those things out ourselves without resorting to sandbagging (still looking at you, Tabon). It's technically well made (perhaps the best made short in this set) and very poignant.

'Wag Mo 'Kong Kausapin was part of Cinema One 2018's lineup of short films, and my feelings about it have not changed. It's still a lovely little film about regrets and confronting inner demons.

See you later at the movies!

Hello, Love, Goodbye

One constant variable in Star Cinema's romantic moviemaking formula is the idea of the romance in an exotic location. It serves as a sort of escapist fantasy; while our two lovers play out their romance, the movie's less than bourgeoisie audience lives vicariously through them.  Cathy Garcia-Molina's Hello, Love, Goodbye turns that variable on his head and deconstructs it. Hong Kong is not (just) a wonderful fantasy land where people fall in love, it is a place where dreams are broken, it is a place people want to leave behind, and it is a place where people are stuck, and not entirely by chance.

The film follows a spate of other films depicting the Filipino diaspora, most notably Rory Quintos' 2000 film Anak (which gets a little cameo) but also the 2016 documentary Sunday Beauty Queen, 2015's Imbisibol and last year's Signal Rock. Although it is hardly seen in this film, the Philippines itself is deeply felt in all of its OFW characters. To them, the Philippines is a lost cause, its dwindling/nonexistent economic prospects wholly inadequate to fulfill the needs of their respective families. Note that only one of the characters, the most naive and inexperienced one at that, considers returning to the Philippines.

The Philippines' failure to provide for its own citizens becomes the impetus for the diaspora itself, tearing families apart, destroying individual dreams and creating much of the conflict in this film. And this isn't entirely the fault of these characters, either: Joy (Kathryn Bernardo) in particular is a qualified college graduate, but she struggles to find a job that fits her credentials. Only the rich get to choose what their work will be, Joy says. She observes a (presumably well off) classmate, sees them treating Hong Kong as merely a tourist destination, and she leaves them to their business.

And despite the promise of a better life that Hong Kong offers, the freedoms it gives its foreign workers are limited. Like its predecessors, Hello, Love, Goodbye shines a spotlight on the awkward relationship between domestic helpers in Hong Kong and their masters, as well as workers in general. Tied to only one job, workers often take sideline jobs that are technically illegal. They are free, but not really free - an idea that, in the light of recent events, inadvertently gains resonance with the plight of a territory operating under "one country, two systems."

The job is often thankless, exhausting, all-consuming. But, like in last year's Sid and Aya, there's a growing resentment at the idea that putting one's own welfare above others is selfish. In my opinion, these films tell us that it doesn't have to be selfish, and that familial (or love-borne) obligation has its limits. Under traditional Filipino values this is a radical idea, but times are changing.

While the romance is the most heavily promoted part of the film, it proves to be the film's lighter, more conventional part. It still follows a lot of the romantic tropes these kinds of movies are made for, and it even plays the exotic location part straight in its last minutes, just to give its two lovers time to breathe. It's cute and all, and Bernardo and Richards are both decent in their performances, but their love affair merely serves as a small part of the bigger picture.

The film shows us the inherent tragedy of many of our brothers and sisters abroad, but it's not all doom and gloom. While the film is firmly tied to a place, it shows us that home is where you make it, and happiness and love can be attained wherever genuine human connections are made, even if it is in a strange land far from one's place of birth. Joy is Here, indeed.

My Letters to Happy

note: spoilers are present for My Letters to Happy.

"Pare-pareho lang ang mga storya," says Abet (TJ Trinidad). He's talking about a client's proposal, but when you watch the first part of Pertee Briñas' My Letters to Happy, it looks like he's talking about the film he's in as well, as it seems to follow a standard romantic comedy storyline.

That illusion disappears as the film changes tone in its second half. The titular Happy (Glaiza de Castro) isn't your stock quirky, reckless, effusive, happy go lucky dream girl, these are manifestations of her condition. Happy has Bipolar I, and she experiences episodes of mania (which explains her behavior) and depression. She also suffers from anxiety attacks that can be triggered by stressful events.

The film then becomes a chronicle, an honest examination of how a couple deals with mental illness. It addresses the various ways treatment can be given: through talk therapy, medication, and even institutionalization in cases where the person becomes a danger to him or herself. It shows the stigma mentally ill people face, despite the fact that even though with proper treatment they can be perfectly functioning members of society. 

However, the film has its share of technical problems that impact the overall storytelling. The editing feels stilted, with cuts sometimes feeling abrupt, starting only to end less than thirty seconds later. The editing also drags down the soundtrack, music starting and stopping awkwardly. The camerawork also detracts largely from the presentation. Perhaps it was made to reflect the characters' stresses and emotional states, but it is mostly distracting - viewers sensitive to such camerawork are going to have a difficult time even looking at the screen during very important moments.

And by the ending, the movie wears its romantic film disguise once more, doubling back on the tone it set during its substantial second half. If the movie's intent was to show how a couple could stay together despite these odds, then why give an ending like this? The way things unfolded make it look like Happy existed to make Abet a better person, even though the film establishes that she's more than that. Nevertheless, the film is hopeful - perhaps not for a reunion, but for the idea that in time, everyone will be okay, and I can get behind that.

Eiga Sai 2019: Kakegurui, One Cut of the Dead, Lu Over the Wall

日本映画祭　２０１９　Festival Log Final

Gambling anime is a genre that satisfies a very particular itch: the excitement of gambling without the associated risk, with excitement elevated through ludicrous levels via the nature of the medium. Kakegurui represents the insanity and craziness of the genre quite well, by making its a good chunk of its characters insane gambling machines.

The Kakegurui live action movie follows two successful seasons of the live action series and two seasons of the anime. The movie is partially based on the side story light novel Kakegurui Joker, with new movie-only characters thrown into the mix.

The movie starts off slowly, introducing each new character and setting up the gambling-stuffed climax, but the payoff is worth it. The mechanics of the games themselves and the psychological tactics are what draws viewers to Kakegurui; in this case, the games featured are variations on games we've already seen in other gambling anime such as Kaiji but are still fun to see play out either way.

The Kakegurui is a crowd pleasing, entertaining movie that is sure to please fans. Non-fans will probably find the first third or so slow and tedious, but the movie falls into place well enough by the end.

It's best to watch One Cut of the Dead blind, but if you have done so (perhaps multiple times, which is best) then read on.

There's a certain wonder to self-reflexivity, when artistic works of genre take a look at themselves and peel back the layers behind their creation. The resulting creation is something much more profound than the initial work, operating in multiple levels.

Such is the movie One Cut of the Dead, which starts with a one take movie within a movie, full of the sort of kitsch and charm one sees in independent productions. However, that section is only one third of the complete story. Once the "real" movie starts (the Japanese title is 'Camera wo Tomeruna!' or 'Don't Stop the Camera!') we see what went on behind the scenes, a cinematic zombie riff on Henry Lewis' The Play that Goes Wrong.

The three act structure also does not feel haphazard or insular; each element in the film within a film is a seed that bears fruit once the same scene is revisited in a different context. Director Ueda skillfully weaves in these elements so that they yield maximum rewards. 

Thus, from horror, the film becomes comedy and metafictional self-examination, and it's refreshing and actually even inspirational in a way. Shooting movies is hard, guys.

Masaaki Yuasa's Lu Over the Wall, a quirky animated tale about an aspiring musician and his newly discovered mermaid friend, is more about eliciting a certain mood rather than telling a story. The film ends up being disjointed as a result, but is no less visually lush.

Yuasa's personal animation style is felt in full force here; it is flowy, imaginative and expressionistic, and colorful. It's reminiscent not of his anime contemporaries, but classic american cartoons from the early 20th century. It helps that he isn't bound to sticking to a certain style or material, such as his work with The Tatami Galaxy.

The film touches on themes of tradition (and breaking from that tradition) as well as the strained relationships that form between children and parents. The characters of Lu over the Wall have at least one parent who has left them behind, and that dysfunction affects them in different ways, whether it entails acting out, seeking attention, sticking stubbornly to traditions or overcompensating to bad effect.

Though the climax is rousing enough and the emotional beats are felt, the impact could've been more deeply resonant had the storytelling been equally up to snuff. As it is, Lu Over the Wall is par for the course, but nothing special.

Eiga Sai 2019: Mixed Doubles, Laughing Under the Clouds, Perfect World, Yakiniku Dragon

日本映画祭　２０１９　Festival Log 3

Tamako Tomita (Yui Aragaki) hates Ping Pong. She's actually good at it, but an overbearing mother and a grueling training regimen turned her off the sport. But when her boyfriend (Seto Koji) betrays her for another woman, Tamako is led down a path towards Ping Pong once more.

A perfect fusion of sports movie, romantic comedy and ganbare! film (the kind of film where a person gets better at a very specific skill), Mixed Doubles is the hilarious brainchild of director-screenwriter duo Junichi Ishikawa and Ryota Kosawa. The two have worked together before in another feature film, but are perhaps better known for their TV work, including series such as Legal High (which also starred Yui Aragaki).

However, Mixed Doubles definitely feels like a film, and a very entertaining one at that. It's filled with the highs and lows of a sports drama, complete with a climactic match up set to inspirational music. It has the quirk and charm of a romantic comedy, and Eita and Aragaki are both wonderful in terms of chemistry. It is also an interesting character study - all of the characters in this film have their own reasons for playing, whether it be to escape the stifling environment of being a trophy wife, to honor a lost loved one, or simply to combat the ennui and loneliness of being left behind.

Like fellow Ping Pong movie Ping Pong (2002), Mixed Doubles isn't about winning, it's about falling in love again, whether it be the sport you left so long ago, or the person beside you. It's irreverent, funny and a solid entertainer from start to finish.

Anime adaptations are usually either hit or miss, as adapting a long series or manga to a couple of live action movies means that a lot of things are going to be taken out for the sake of time. In the case of Laughing Under the Clouds (Donten ni Warau), the alterations to the story are pretty substantial.

The gist of the movie is this: in the Bakumatsu period, three brothers protect a town from the return of Orochi, a snake demon. Ninjas want the demon to return. The government doesn't, and trouble ensues.

The film focuses more on the oldest brother, Tenka (Sota Fukushi) and less so on the other two brothers - even giving him a crucial scene that belongs to another character. A group of government soldiers tasked to seal the Orochi are all turned from interesting characters with their own quirk into a boring boy squad with little personality or backstory.

The film seems to have been modified for the ikemen-hungry crowd, to the detriment of some fans of the original source material. It's kind of a shame, considering that the source material is pretty good by itself and that the film is technically well made, especially during the first half. Katsuyuki Motohiro certainly has the pedigree to make this work, having worked on adaptations like Ajin and original films like Summer Time Machine Blues, so with the right material he could've made this shine.

Fans of Fukushi and pretty Bakumatsu bois will find much to like here, but the anime series and the manga are far superior to this particular iteration.

Based on Rie Aruga's manga of the same name, Perfect World is the story of Itsuki (Takanori Iwata) and Tsugumi (Hana Sugisaki) who fall in love with each other. It seems straightforward, but there's just one little detail about their relationship: Itsuki is paralyzed from the waist down.

The film examines how life would be like living with a person with disabilities. It's certainly full of its own set of challenges - medical conditions like pressure sores are common, family and friends can and will tend to misunderstand and discourage such relationships, and just being a caregiver on top of being a romantic partner is added challenge enough. All this, in a setting where accessibility for disabled people is very much available.

The conflicts, however, feel more weighty when Itsuki and Tsugumi are dealing with these everyday problems, compared to a major  unexplained medical speed bump in the third act that feels very contrived. Perfect World is best when it lets its two characters breathe in the world they're in, instead of manufacturing drama for the sake of drama.

And finally, I was unaware that Wishing Chong's Yakiniku Dragon was based on his play of the same name going into the movie theatre, but from the first few minutes of the movie I knew that it felt like a play on film. On second viewing, my suspicions were confirmed, and the film's theatricality proves to be its greatest weakness.

The film follows a family of Koreans living in Japan, and their struggles as they try to fit into society and sometimes fail. At the same time, there are love problems among the family's daughters. The film tackles issues of discrimination, marginalization and human dignity in the face of hardship.

Owing to its theater roots, Yakiniku Dragon's drama works when it works. But at the same time, it suffers from a lack of restraint, in that some things a play would take for granted don't exactly translate that well when adapted into a feature film.

The film is best when it shies away from histrionics, which is unfortunately not that often; most of the film is composed of hysterics, hitting, shouting and screaming. After a while, it gets kind of shrill and tiring. The romantic subplots of the film feel a little too tacked on, and are easily some of the most skippable parts of the film.

The film also lacks restraint in terms of editing. There are many moments in the film where one anticipates a cut to the next scene, but the scene just keeps going on and on. In a play, the script would be responsible for the overall pace, but not so in film. The extra dimension of temporality that a proper edit brings seems to be lost on the film's first-time director.

Eiga Sai 2019: Mirai, The Crimes that Bind, The 8-Year Long Engagement

日本映画祭　２０１９　Festival Log 2

Mamoru Hosoda's latest film, Mirai, begins with an overhead shot of a city that slowly meanders toward a peculiar house, the setting of most of the film. It is a perfect visual representation of what the movie strives to portray: the plasticity of fate, the flow of time, the place and evolution of a family among generations.

The film follows Kun, a young toddler, as he deals with the fact that he is no longer an only child. His newborn sister, Mirai, is a source of frustration to the child, and he acts like children do, doing things and saying hurtful words that he does not have the full capacity to understand. But then another Mirai appears, this time from the future, and she's here to teach him a lesson about growing up and being a good brother.

Kun's adventures could all be made up, taking place entirely within the confines of his imagination, or they could be real. But whether it is real or not is beside the point compared to the lessons his adventures impart: lessons on humility, family responsibility and the reality of being a new brother.

And, in an step forward from films such as The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (2006),  Mirai is about our relationship to time and how it relates to our own interpersonal bonds. We grow older each day, faster than we can sometimes comprehend. And in the context of our families, we are a collection of stories, tapestries composed of individual decisions that resonate through generations.

The Crimes That Bind is the big finale to a years-long adaptation that started with the 2010 TV series Shinzanmono, and continued on with a couple of feature films and TV specials. Based on the popular series of novels by Keigo Higashino, the overall story is about detective Kyoichiro Kaga, a veteran detective who solves difficult and complex mysteries.

This film begins with a death that is very personal to Kaga: in fact, it is his raison d' etre for moving to Nihonbashi in the first place. The movie then segues to the real mystery, the discovery of a corpse in an apartment that is not hers. Somehow, these two events are related, but we are left to wonder why.

The mystery is engaging and complex, with the pieces of the puzzle only gaining true form during the film's melodramatic climax. The movie has a penchant for on-screen 'narration' that gives the film a sort of formal, procedural flavor. Everyone involved is excellent, but for this installment it is Nanako Matsushima and Fumiyo Kohinata who get to shine in their respective roles, even though they appear in a fraction of the film.

The film tries its best to be cinematic -  a confrontation scene between Hiroshi Abe's Kaga and Nanako Matsushima's character is particularly striking - but it remains beholden to its television roots. Regardless, fans of Shinzanmono or of Higashino's novels will find much to appreciate here.

And finally we have The 8-Year Engagement, a romantic melodrama that sounds so unbelievable until you realize that it is actually based on a true story.

The gist of it: a man and a woman get together, fall in love, woman contracts an extremely rare medical condition, man turns out to be a saint and stubbornly sticks with her until she gets better, but problems ensue.

It could've been ridiculous if it weren't executed so sincerely. Tao Tsuchiya is excellent here, even though she spends most of the film in a hospital bed. She makes the best of her character's flaws, compared to Takeru Sato's character, who is so saintlike and flawless that he should be canonized and given the Nobel Peace Prize for three straight years. I kid of course, as Sato manages to bring a bit of gravitas to a character who loves purely, with all his heart, and without regret. It's par for the course for Zeze, a director who has dabbled in both mainstream productions and pinku eiga, whose works focus on the details of human relationships.

The medicine in this film is well-researched, from initial confinement until rehabilitation. It has to be, since it's based on real experiences. This film is good for a little cry, appropriate for those in need of some pure, pure love.

Eiga Sai 2019: The Tears of Malumpati, After the Storm, Samurai Marathon

日本映画祭　２０１９　Festival Log 1

The Tears of Malumpati's nature as a Japanese-Filipino collaboration mirrors its true to life story: an international collaboration that managed to bring clean water to a community. It touches on themes of volunteerism similar to past Eiga Sai films like Crossroad, but in this case the end result is far more satisfying.

The film follows Asuka (Miyuu Tsuji) who, for the flimsiest of reasons, goes to the Philippines for some volunteer work. She is immediately smitten by the town and its people and vows to help them at least until the project is completed.

Tsuji, an idol who is perhaps better known for her voice acting work and her membership in the idol unit 'elfin, is capable in this film. The Filipino cast fares a whole lot better compared to Crossroad, a cast that includes Joel Saracho, Sue Prado and Miel Espinoza of Pan de Salawal fame. However, it's clear that some of the Filipino cast are not as comfortable acting in English as they would be in Filipino, perhaps attributable to the occasionally corny dialogue.

That said, what's most interesting about the film is its acknowledgement, however indirect, of Japan's atrocities during World War II. The film posits the idea that the country's penchant to help other countries may be a function of guilt, or perhaps a sense of taking responsibility for Japan's past actions. "Apologizing is a negative action, but (volunteering and helping) is a positive one," a character says. A good number of us would have liked the apology too, but hey, it's a start.

The Tears of Malumpati is a decent enough charmer, full of moments both happy and sad. If anything, it's an interesting exploration of the idea of international volunteerism that approaches the subject in a different way compared to similar films.

Very few films encapsulate the humanist essence of Hirokazu Kore-eda as much as his 2016 work After the Storm. A meditation on familial bonds and regret, the film wafts in like a gentle breeze, only to leave you devastated with quiet, unassuming moments.

Its protagonist, Ryota (Hiroshi Abe) is a novelist currently sidelining as a private eye, working mostly under the employ of suspicious husbands and wives wanting to uncover evidence of their spouse's infidelity. He uses the evidence to play double agent and convince the other party to destroy this evidence in exchange for a generous fee.

It is thus ironic that while Ryota's clients keep their marriages relatively intact, Ryota's own marriage is in shambles, and the blame is mostly on him. He wastes away his earnings on horseraces and gambling, and is unable to pay his divorced wife (Yoko Maki) child support fees for his young son Shingo (Taiyo Yoshizawa). Ryota fears that he is quickly becoming the mirror image of his own father, who pretty much did the same to him.

Ryota's regret forms much of the center of this film, where he spends mulling over faded, past glories and what-ifs. Yet he is either unwilling or unable to change himself for most of the film, leaving him stuck to old ways. Perhaps it is a fear of the future, his elderly mother (Kirin Kiki) says. When a typhoon passes over the city, trapping Ryota and his family, he yearns for a catharsis, a Hollywood-like reunion and a happily ever after.

That doesn't happen, and what we get instead is something equally cathartic, yet something so subtle and gentle that its emotional impact hits one out of left field. Within the film's climax, composed of simple, unassuming moments, there is a sense of letting go, a sense of forgiveness, a realization of having to fight for what you want instead of letting things pass you by. The house still stands after the rain, changed but unshaken.

And finally we have a film that ticks the Eigasai box of a historical epic that is somehow tied to a contemporary ritual, much in the vein of 2017's The Magnificent Nine. From director Bernard Rose, better known for films such as Candyman (1992) comes this period (albeit fictionalized) ensemble piece.

Set in the Bakumatsu period, the film follows the arrival of Perry's Black Ships and the beginning of a significant change in Japanese international relations. Spooked by the arrival of the Americans, some of the samurai clans are understandably nervous. One such clan, headed by Katsuakira Itakura, decides to run a race for all his soldiers and footmen in order to prepare for uncertain times. A spy for the central government, Jinnai Karasawa (Takeru Sato), mistakenly sends out a message, thinking it to be tantamount to rebellion. When he realizes his mistake, he must protect his lord from assassins and correct his wrongdoing before it is too late.

But the story is not Karasawa's alone. Many other characters join the race for their own reasons, as the price of victory is a wish granted by lord Katsuakira himself. Hironoshi (Shota Sometani) is the fastest runner among all the soldiers; he joins the race for his family and to become a true samurai. Tsujimura (Mirai Moriyama) joins the race to perhaps win the favor of the princess Yuki (Nana Komatsu). And Yuki herself joins the race in disguise in order to gain freedom from her father and old traditions.

The stories may have conclusions that feel a little rushed compared to how they were built up, but it's all about the journey (or the race) rather than the finish line. Overall the movie reflects a society on the verge of great change. With change comes the collective anxiety of the higher ups in the face of technological superiority, while the common folk are too occupied with their own concerns to care about the future. Considering that most of the people participating in the race are samurai, there's a level of tragedy in knowing that in only a few years, their entire caste and way of life will disappear.

The film then is a way of showing that in a moment of solidarity, a group of disparate people can and will unite for a common cause and begin a tradition that continues even today.