Thoughts on Dito at Doon

Compared to other major historical disasters of the past century, this pandemic feels like a catastrophe unfolding in super slow motion, where we are all ripped from our former lives and placed into a situation that is for all intents and purposes, out of our control. In such a situation, wouldn't it be logical to want someone to hold your hand while you watch the world die? 

There is a sense of longing in JP Habac's Dito at Doon, a sense of wanting to live a way of life that no longer exists. It is deeply felt in the film's form, especially in the way it frames online conversations. It rejects the "zoom aesthetic" pioneered by productions created during the early months of the pandemic, instead opting to depict these online meetings as in-person conversations. This framing gives the goings on a sense of intimacy that wouldn't have registered as well if it was filmed as two people staring at each other through a screen. Its romantic tropes and clichés even evoke pre-pandemic romantic films, treading very familiar ground in that respect.

And that thought leads to the tragedy at the core of this film: no matter how much we try to escape with someone else into fantasies of comfort, it is slowly getting harder to avoid the reality that this is not going away. Something was lost when we all retreated into our homes, and that thing is something people struggle to reclaim. Whatever aspirations we have towards love take a back seat to responsibilities towards family and ultimately, one's own survival. To me, Dito at Doon isn't a romance, it's a disaster movie: a movie that takes place in a world where the soil where romance grows is barren.

Thoughts on Zack Snyder's Justice League

 

It's a Hollywood tale as old as time: an ambitious filmmaker with a grand idea comes to tinseltown with a plan. Almost immediately, executives meddle with that creative vision, leading to a frankensteined product that does not resemble the original idea in any way. Audiences who see the potential of that idea are left with an unsatisfying work of art, wondering what could have been.

What would an Edgar Wright Ant-Man look like? Or a Lord and Miller Solo? Or a purely Josh Trank Fant4stic? We will probably never see the answers to such questions, and that's how it goes in Hollywood. That's why the recently released recut of Justice League, directed by Zack Snyder, is something of an aberration. After fan backlash to the original 2017 film, clamor for a rumored "Snyder Cut" grew until Warner Brothers gave up the ghost and gave the fans what they wanted.

I'm not going to spend the next few paragraphs talking about the lore or the characters in a grander context; many fan-run sites will be able to articulate it better than I ever can. What I can tell you here is, in terms of cinema, what does something like this film mean?

This four hour monstrosity is remarkable. It is a film, but it has aspects that can be seen more in arthouse films than in your usual Hollywood blockbuster. With its runtime, it flouts the rules of commercial cinema, and by chance it is uniquely suited to take advantage of the streaming medium that has supplanted traditional theaters during the pandemic.

That's not to say the film is perfect. It's not God's gift to cinema, no, but it doesn't want to be. It is, however, a vast improvement over the original film, and it's safe to say that any newcomers should avoid the original film entirely and consider this the definitive version.

Despite the many changes, at its core the story is still the same: after Superman's death in the previous film, Batman (Ben Affleck) and Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) begin assembling some of Earth's mightiest heroes to fend off an alien invasion. What sets both films apart is, first and foremost, a consistency in tone. Gone are the MCU quips that wormed their way into the 2017 version thanks to Joss Whedon's involvement. That is perhaps this cut's best feature: the Snyder Cut isn't trying to be something else, it is its own thing. We get to know the characters first (something that is no doubt alleviated by the releases of 2017's Wonder Woman and 2018's Aquaman) and the stakes are clear. Even the villain, a cartoonishly stock villain in the 2017 film, is given a backstory and motivation in this one.

While it does still suffer from being the follow-up to a mediocre, if a bit silly movie, and it suffers from Snyder's own, sometimes overindulgent filmmaking weaknesses, and it still does at least three movies' worth of heavy lifting, the end result is entertaining in its own, chaotic way.

This film does raise a number of interesting questions. It's probably safe to say that this version of the film would not be the version that Snyder would release theatrically had he still continued making the 2017 film. He was unconstrained by cinema rules or distributors or running times. What if, in the context of traditional cinemas dying, this film is part of a new paradigm in film production moving forward? What does the Snyder Cut say about fan driven efforts? How heavily will fan clamor change how a movie is made creatively? While it worked for this film (giving Snyder free reign to do what he wants), studios reacting to fan demand also has its downsides - see the last Star Wars movie for an example of that. 

One can comfortably end the film at the 3 hour 40 minute mark and call it a day. What follows after that mark is an epilogue that shows audiences what a Snyderverse film would have looked like. In a meta sense, it reflects itself: the epilogue that consists of a dream of an alternate universe, is itself a look into an alternate universe - one where Zack Snyder continued working on future Justice League films. But in the here and now, reality is different: WB has shifted to telling more standalone stories with the release of films like 2019's Joker, and it's doubtful whether actors like Ray Fisher (Cyborg) or Amber Heard (Mera) will return. The epilogue, then, feels a tad cruel, a tease for a sequel that will never come.

But people were saying only a few years back that this cut will never, ever be a thing, and look where we are now. The possibilities are endless.

Present Confusion 2020 Rundown Part 3: World Cinema Favorites

 

...I've run out of jokes

It's a bit ironic that when the pandemic forced us all into our homes, it allowed cinema to expand beyond borders at the same time. International film festivals started offering their films to international audiences, sometimes for free. The world became a smaller place.

In rough order, here are some of my favorite films from around the world that I saw in 2020.

John Tawasil's

WORLD CINEMA FAVORITES 2020

Honorable Mentions:

15. Exit (Lee Sang-geun, 2019) - An enjoyable thrill ride from start to finish, while Exit isn't as profound as other films in this list, it's by far one of the most entertaining. At a time where the world wasn't looking too sunny, it was the injection of stubborn, boldfaced positivity that I needed. 

14. The Half of It (Alice Wu, 2020) - This refreshing take on Cyrano de Bergerac intersects queer love, friendship, immigrant integration into society and religion and culture in a small town all in one surprisingly wholesome package. Where's the other half of it, Netflix?

13 My Sweet Grappa Remedies (Akiko Ohku, 2019) - I've always associated "coming of middle age films" with anxious, chaotic and even violent awakenings. Akiko Ohku's My Sweet Grappa Remedies takes the opposite approach, gently easing us into a woman's entrance into that strange realm between youth and old age.

12. Under the Open Sky (Miwa Nishikawa) - Miwa Nishikawa has a penchant for stories featuring characters who employ deception, and this absorbing character study is no exception - except this time, the only thing the main character of Under the Open Sky is truly deceiving is himself.

ELEVEN WORLD CINEMA FAVORITES

11. True Mothers (Naomi Kawase, 2020) - It seems like Naomi Kawase has gone full circle: from deeply personal documentaries about how motherhood has shaped her, she's made an emotional exploration of motherhood in all its myriad forms. Also, I'm a fan of Kawase's work and I hope she gets to make more films like this in the future.

10. You and I (Fanny Chotimah, 2020) - few films are as heartbreaking as Fanny Chotimah's debut work about the twilight years of two political dissidents who find each other during their incarceration and grow old together. An intersection of the sociopolitical effects of activism on one's life, a "love" story unlike any other, and a gentle meditation on the finite nature of life, it's hard to type words about this film without breaking into tears. It's that affecting.

9. Corpus Christi (Jan Komasa, 2019) - I guess it's pretty telling that this film about an ex-con/juvenile delinquent pretending to be a priest communicates true Christlike behavior better than any faith based film that I've ever seen in my life.

8. Eeb Allay Ooo! (Prateek Vats, 2019) - hierarchies dominate the theme of Prateek Vats' debut film, and it's pretty telling that in these ladders of social order, ordinary humans like you and me aren't necessarily at the top.

7. Minari (Lee Isaac Chung, 2020) - a tender drama about an immigrant family trying to make it in the rural United States, Minari is a film about the smaller stories that make up the tapestry of a proud nation of immigrants.

6. Nomadland (Chloe Zhao, 2020) - It's kind of interesting that in a year where loneliness is forced upon us by circumstance, there's a film like Nomadland, about a person whose loneliness exists by choice. There's also a sense of larger machinations with economies and society trickling down and destroying the underlying fabric of America, scattering its peoples into empty wastelands, perpetually exiled from each other.

5. Nasir (Arun Karthick, 2020) - 2020 marks a year where the inherent weaknesses of populism were laid bare by the pandemic. A person can think critically; while masses of people are prone to manipulation, and their hatred can be directed against others. In an environment where hate is cultivated day by day, it is always the everyday man who suffers the most. In this adaptation of a short story (itself based on real life events), the humdrum day of a man is shown in gentle detail, before hurtling towards an inevitable, unfortunate conclusion.

4. Quo Vadis, Aida? (Jasmila Žbanić, 2020) - as with Nasir, Quo Vadis, Aida deals with the monstrous consequences of hate and the inevitability of history. But it also deals with the banality of evil, in that normal people - your neighbor, your coworker, even yourself - can be capable of heinous things. What place does accountability have, then, in a society trying to move past such a difficult history?

3. Crazy World (Nabwana IGG, 2019) - I saw this rerelease of the 2014 Wakaliwood classic during the height of the pandemic, during the We Are One global film festival - and I think it's exactly what I needed. While far from perfect technically, it's as crazy as the title says - a wild, inventive (and surprisingly, lesson-filled) love letter to cinema, and I'm all for it.

2. A Balance (Yujiro Harumoto, 2020) - This is actually my favorite film of 2020, as the #1 is there for mostly sentimental reasons. Harumoto's debut film, a meditation on media, truth, and truth-telling, is the most tense 153 minutes I have watched this entire year. 

1. Happy Old Year (Nawapol Thamrongrattanarit, 2019) - as we throw away the garbage of the previous year, I guess it's appropriate that the film at the top of this list deals with throwing things away, and the idea that that process is never that simple. As with many of Nawapol's films, this particular film feels low key, almost deadpan, then does a 180 turn and shoots you straight in the heart.

***

That ends Present Confusion for 2020. To be honest, guys and gals, I legitimately thought of hanging up my gloves at the end of 2019, but the pandemic gave me room to stretch creatively. With the way things are going now, I don't think I can go back to cinemas yet. So unless I've been vaccinated, I've decided not to cover any Filipino films with a purely theatrical release..

That said, the format of this blog will likely change in the coming months. I'll probably start talking about different things, if I ever find the juice to talk about anything at all. For all we know, this might be my last entry in Present Confusion, and if that's the case, with 15 years of stuff behind us, I think this is a good place to end it. But if I do manage to think of something to write about, expect it here and nowhere else.

In the meantime, I'll still be working with the fine folks over at Third World Cinema Club, and I have a youtube channel now. That might go on for a while until I run out of ideas again and make my way back here.

In years past, I've ended these things by saying "see you at the movies," but since this time things are different, I'll settle with saying: Be safe. Take care of yourself. And if the fates are kind, I'll see you around.

Present Confusion 2020 Rundown Part 2: Philippine Cinema Odds and Ends

 

the B in this BL probably means something else

The comic sans font doesn't really justify this piece. This piece isn't all about bad films since in this space I want to talk about interesting films too. Because film production in the country came to a halt, there weren't a lot of bad films. And no, your one star review of some popular movie that's actually not that bad doesn't count. That doesn't mean, however, that no bad films came out this year. 

This doesn't have much of a structure, either, and it's not in list form. I guess you'll just have to read through.

Blade Entertainment, the entertainment wing of the ubiquitous seller of car paraphernalia and knick knacks of the same name, is perhaps the last place where you'd expect a diamond in the rough. And that sentiment is at least kind of right; Ara Baldonado's Good Times Bad isn't exactly top of the year material, but it sure did leave an impression on me. 

There isn't exactly a lot of plot to hold the film together; it's about two people, complete strangers, who try to find stolen items that hold sentimental value to them. The entire film is about them trying to do just that.

The film has a lot of filler; the film tends to drag out some of its sequences, and the film also includes a number of strange additions, such as a cameo from Akihiro Blanco, reprising his character from Blade Entertainment movies 12 Days to Destiny and The Next 12 Days. But the film is structured so weirdly that it feels like an experimental film sometimes: there's a time loop in the middle of the film. There are various monologues about the mysteries of life, delivered as if in a drug induced haze, scattered all throughout the story. At points it was so delightfully weird that I was compelled to keep watching. It's probably one of the most surprising local movie experiences of the year.

For people talking about their favorite films this year, remember this experimental short disguised as an IG live? This almost kinda made it, but to be honest the conversation that followed was far more interesting than the film itself. Imagine being a little angry because you felt duped by a film, when the very idea of a love team is in itself a manufactured construct?

One of the most wild experiences of my 2020 moviegoing experience has to be Noriel Jarito's Huramentado: Kill The President. Yes, THAT president, but you don't get to see the act on screen (you don't even see if he's successful or not!). The Samar-based Jarito has made one other major film before (starring himself!) called Rindido, which can be viewed on his Youtube channel.

Long story short, this movie is bonkers. I almost contemplated making a (non) review of this film in the spirit of classics like Durugin ang Droga and Exit Point, but I simply didn't have the time. Maybe someday. The entire first 10-15 minutes is basically footage from an actual CineLokal premiere edited to look like an assassination is about to take place. All fine and good, until you realize that intercut with these scenes are seemingly accidental clips of some middle aged guy in his boxers lying in bed. I wish I could tell you I was joking.

Jarito seems to want to say something with his film, and you can palpably feel a seething sense of distrust towards corruption and a hatred of establishment politics and feudal rule in the provinces. Points for effort for that. I hope the film gets shown on youtube again so you can all see it in its crazy glory.

I've already said my piece about Pakboys Takusa, and I won't waste my time talking about that. They had a prime chance to screen a hentai at the MMFF and all we get are the ugly bastards. Just kidding. Or am I?

Pakboys the Animation (2021)

But there is one other film that I intensely disliked in 2020, and that's Oligase: The Demon of Fear. I dislike it because while (I think) it means well, and its disparate elements mean well, it's all in all a miserable affair that does nothing except paint indigenous peoples as backwards-thinking, histrionic morons. 

It's all in there: the stock religious masochistic suffering-to-redemption narrative, the devaluing of education, the devaluing of indigenous peoples, the weird colonialist undertones, the amount of sexual violence just for the sake of it. In a year where a film like Tokwifi gained mainstream recognition, this is just a giant leap backward.

***

That's about it for local cinema in 2020. Anyway, stay tuned for my favorite picks from international cinema.

Present Confusion 2020 Rundown Part 1 - Philippine Cinema Favorites

 

the worst BL

Well, what a year this turned out to be, huh? Here I was, ready to face another year of Philippine Cinema, when suddenly the concept of cinema itself was irrevocably changed thanks to a worldwide pandemic. We're living in interesting times now, folks, and although things seem to be slowly getting better, we still have a long way to go. The pandemic revealed aspects of our society that existed in plain sight, and showed us that just, equitable and good governance is important. Obviously good governance is something we don't have in the Philippines, so we had to learn those lessons the hard way.

Because the pandemic shut down everything, productions had to get creative, and the increased isolation made people create interesting, sometimes beautiful things. Films like Love Lockdown managed to make something during the height of the lockdowns, and other productions adapted plays into online stage readings. Some opted for a mixture film and stage, like Chuck Gutierrez's Heneral Rizal, while the Himala event organized by ABS-CBN film restoration sought to deconstruct the art that we already had. That makes the shutdown of ABS-CBN that followed a few months after that all the more tragic. It's a major event will send out ripples throughout our media, TV and film production for years to come.

At the same time, some creators tried to fight the dread by positive stories. The show at the center of that surge is the wholesome and endlessly entertaining Gameboys, directed by Ivan Payawal, which became a big hit. It initiated a slew of similar shows, leading to an unprecedented boom of the Boys' Love genre, which culminated in films like Bobby Bonifacio's My Lockdown Romance and Dolly Dulu's The Boy Foretold by the Stars.

Movies from earlier years started to show up on streaming services, either as paid content or free of charge on Youtube. Channels like Regal Entertainment even started rotating some of their older movies for free. For the Filipino moviegoer, while access to cinemas was out of the question, many Filipinos gained access to a wide range of Filipino films that would otherwise only be available through occasional screenings or through piracy.

Microcinemas that depended on steady audiences and support suffered the most during this difficult time. Cinema Centenario, a fixture over at Maginhawa, had to shut its doors thanks to the continued loss of business from the lockdowns.

Audiences had to shift to the online space, and festivals like Cinemalaya and the MMFF had an all-online edition, while QCinema opted for a hybrid approach, considering cinemas for the eventual new normal.

Who knows what will happen in the months and years to come. I do not know what the future will bring for Philippine Cinema, but I truly hope that it will be a journey we can all still walk together.

With that out of the way, here are 10 of my favorite Filipino (and Filipino-ish) films of the year. I've tried my best to watch everything that came out this year. Sitsit? Quarantina Gothika? Boyette: Not a Girl Yet? Yup, watched all that. I still have pending entries on letterboxd. I'm lazy like that.

yes, even The Next 12 Days.

Guidelines are: FAVORITES, NOT BEST, must be something I saw first this year (so no Tokwifi in this list, sorry), something about the Philippines (and not necessarily directed by a Filipino) and nothing before 2019 at the earliest. Without further ado, here is...

John Tawasil's 

10 FAVORITE LOCAL(ish) FILMS OF 2020

Oh, but before that, some Honorable Mentions:

Short films You are Here, Replay, and The Man Who isn't There and Other Stories of Longing from the Mindanao Film Fest deserve recognition for their depiction of life at the end of the apocalypse, during the apocalypse, and before the apocalypse, respectively as well as Jay Rosas' Budots: The Craze, which paints a pretty interesting picture of a man whose creation has left his control. One feature film figures in this list of honorable mentions as well: Lawrence Fajardo's Kintsugi, about the diaspora and the cracks in society we'd rather keep hidden.

Okay, here we go now, for real:

10. Watch List (dir. Ben Rekhi)

Movies and media about the War on Drugs have ranged from atrocious Reefer Madness wannabes (Kamandag ng Droga) to being insidious in its manipulation of form (Alpha: The Right to Kill). Ben Rekhi's Watch List is arguably the best of the lot. Congratulations as well to drugs for winning the war on drugs.

9. Elehiya sa Paglimot (dir. Tops Brugada)

The loss of a loved one is probably something a lot of us have dealt with during this pandemic. Tops Brugada's deeply personal examination of his relationship with his father, the plasticity of fragility of memories, and the days leading to his father's eventual demise, resonates even more strongly in the light of recent events.

8. Dreaming in the Red Light (dir. Pabelle Manikan)

Accounts of the cyclical nature of violence (in more forms than one) against the most underprivileged members of society are a (sadly) frequent topic in the realm of local documentaries. Pabelle Manikan's Dreaming in the Red Light depicts the Sisyphean struggle of a mother and daughter as they try to lift themselves out of poverty.

7. Sa Susunod na Habangbuhay (dir. Jorel Lising)

Yep, a music video is in this list. this is my favorite KathNiel film, and I can't exactly pinpoint why. Maybe it's because of that lovely concept by Juan Miguel Severo about two lovers experiencing an endless timeloop of memories both painful and happy. Maybe because it doesn't tell its story, it shows instead. Maybe because it allows this loveteam to express their emotions without dialogue. Either way, even if the year were full of films, this would be somewhere on top nevertheless.

6. Ang Pagpakalma sa Unos (a.k.a. To Calm the Pig Inside; dir. Joanna Vasquez Arong)

Bad governance isn't only limited to the current administration, it's an ongoing, systemic problem that's lasted for a while now. There's an idea in this film about people in disasters resorting to whispers and mythmaking, resorting to gods and mythical creatures in the absence of tangible leadership, and I think that's pretty interesting stuff.

5. Himala: Isang Diyalektiko ng Ating Panahon (dir. Lav Diaz)

The best Lav Diaz film this year lasts five minutes tops, a metafictional examination of the lessons we have learned (and not learned) since the time of the original Himala. 

4. Midnight in a Perfect World (dir. Dodo Dayao)

After an extended period of time looking for a place and time to be shown, Dodo Dayao's second feature film finds its way to QCinema. And what a perfect time and place for this film, an examination of the concept of safety, or the illusion thereof, in a society where murder is permitted and even encouraged.

3. Fan Girl (dir. Antoinette Jadaone)

The word fan comes from the Modern Latin fanaticus, meaning "insanely but divinely inspired," and that's how some of us think of the people we venerate: as divine, infallible beings, and we think of them like that to the point of irrationality. But ultimately, they're the same as we are, only with the power to do what they want, and that can lead to nothing good. More an allegory than an examination of fandom (that's another movie, for another day), Fan Girl tells us to stop, take a long hard look in the mirror and question who is it exactly are we championing.

2. Overseas (dir. Sung A-Yoon)

When labor is commodified, people have different ways of  adapting to that, to make themselves better 'products' in the labor market. Overseas depicts one such environment, a training facility that exists to help domestic helpers in their eventual jobs overseas. It explores far more than that: even the roles and spaces women overseas workers have to operate in compared to their male counterparts. 

1. Aswang (dir. Alyx Arumpac)

It's been a hell of a year for documentaries (several, in fact, occupy this list) and the best of them is Aswang, about an all too real monster. Said monster exists in plain sight, but operates invisibly; in fact in this documentary he is not even seen or heard. Nevertheless, his hand is palpably felt in every grisly death and injustice in this film. Somewhere in the Philippines someone is being killed or people are being unjustly imprisoned thanks to a system built on oppression and impunity, and Aswang shows us the brave few who dare to look the monster in the face.

***

Next up: Odds and Ends from Philippine cinema!

MMFF 2020 Reviews: Tagpuan, Suarez The Healing Priest, The Missing, Mang Kepweng

 

As the title implies, Mac Alejandre's Tagpuan concerns itself with meetings: its three main characters talk about love and other things in pretty locales. These locales reflect their respective personalities: Shaina Magdayao's spunky OFW character reflects Hong Kong, a messy but charming mix of two cultures. while Iza Calzado's artist reflects the busy, bohemian streets of New York.

The concept of meeting also implies traveling, and in this case, the travel involved is immigration. Shaina and Iza's characters leave the Philippines either to find themselves or just through circumstance, but the results are varied, and the results are tied to their socioeconomic standing. 

And all meetings imply a parting, as all three characters' paths diverge after a certain point. It's all very interesting, at least in theory. However, there's one thing that prevents Tagpuan from capitalizing on all these ideas: its central character.

The central character of Tagpuan, a businessman played by Alfred Vargas, is one of the blandest characters I've ever seen in a movie this year. His childhood desire is "to be a businessman," and not of any specific business either. He just wants to do some kind of business. Other than that, he hates Ipads, and that's it - his character doesn't exactly stand out, and that isn't helped at all by Vargas, who has the emotional range of a block of pinewood. His character weakly reacts to every revelatory statement the two women throw at him by weakly approximating an emotion every so often.

While this is a film with lots of talking, a lot of the talking feels clunky and too expository for its own good, at times overexplaining things that would probably better be shown subtly. Perhaps this is due to personal preference, but the dialogue doesn't flow like a normal conversation should.

In any case, there's a good film to be found in Tagpuan, but it's hiding under some big problems.

Fernando Suarez was a priest who claimed he had miraculous healing powers from God. He was accused of a number of different things, including money laundering, collecting funds for a Virgin Mary statue that did not materialize, and sexual molestation of minors (he was acquitted of that last thing by the Vatican; as for the other two, who knows.)  He was preparing to return the work when he died playing tennis at the Alabang Country Club.

Suarez: The Healing Priest is a strange film. It feels oddly defensive, as if the film is obligated to defend the man at every turn. Why defend a man already proven innocent? While Suarez (played by John Arcilla) is supposed to be the main character, much of the screentime is occupied by people talking about him, as if their testimony will exonerate him from his alleged crimes. What happens instead is that things look a lot more suspicious. Suarez the character spends most of his time in the movie moping around while other people provide commentary on how innocent he is.

Suarez's money problems are not touched upon in this story; instead, the film focuses on the molestation allegations (allegations that, shortly before his death, were thrown out.) Joven Tan uses his usual meta tricks, during a sequence where two journalists (?) prepare to interview Suarez about said allegations and question his motives, as if to serve as stand-ins for the audience. But you know their minds have been made up. All the characters in this movie (save for some villainous priests) exhibit a kind of hivethink that surely, this man can do no harm, even though the film hasn't made a decent effort to let the man's actions speak for themselves. Eventually, whatever controversy about him is left unresolved, as if to say "hey guys, believe us, he's innocent because we said so."

There's a line between biography and hagiography, and this film has clearly crossed that line. But even then, in trying to portray Suarez as some kind of saint, without managing to do the legwork to achieve that, the film fails there too.

While it functions as a perfectly run of the mill MMFF Horror Movie (TM), Easy Ferrer's The Missing has some interesting ideas. 

Iris (Ritz Asul) lost her sister to kidnapping and has developed PTSD because of it. She is contacted by her ex, Job (Joseph Marco) for work in Japan with her former teacher. She agrees to do the job (a house restoration and remodel) but strange things begin to happen inside the house itself.

The film tackles the very real fear of losing someone important to you, and in different ways. Iris' sister was kidnapped in the Philippines and never seen again, destroying her family in the process. Another character lost a family member in Japan, and desperately seeks to fill that void. And yet another character has not lost anyone yet, but the fear of losing a loved one drives that person to extremes.

Another theme in the film is how commodified labor for export can be exploited for gains that are either at the personal level or on a wider scale. In a way, the film's concept of Hitobashira (literally, 'human pillars') fits in to this theme, as foreign labor becomes the foundation of foreign economies, often to the detriment of those laborers (and indirectly, their home countries as well,) becoming a figurative sort of human sacrifice.

But back to the film at large. Unfortunately The Missing struggles to land its conclusion, as it deals with most of its plot threads in the last 15 minutes, leading to an overload of information. While it is visually impressive, the soundtrack is conventional horror fare; it might have been better to build the atmosphere and let the audience discover the horror by themselves instead of lampshading it with ominous audio cues. The script is full of weird insertions, such as a yoga scene that does nothing except to set up a jump scare. Like with Tagpuan above, this is a film that could've been more, but hinders itself because of its own glaring flaws.

I still don't know how people are going to sell Mang Kepweng Returns, which seems to be geared for a trilogy. The only people who know Mang Kepweng and the lore behind the character will be adults, who may be turned off by the kid friendly nature of the movie, and kids will have no idea what or who Mang Kepweng is, why he has a scarf, and so on. But I'm just a guy who watches movies, not a movie producer, so what do I know? Either way, Mang Kepweng: Ang Lihim ng Bandanang Itim is a perfectly serviceable MMFF film, and much better than the first one.

After the events of the first film, Kiefer (Vhong Navarro) is still doing his thing as an albularyo, or folk healer. However, he notices that the source of his power, his magic scarf, is losing energy. He is then alerted by denizens of a magical domain that another scarf has been stolen, a scarf that gives its wielder the power to bestow diseases. He then sets out with four of his friends to stop that from happening.

There's nothing particularly deep or profound in this film to talk about, so you get exactly what you come for. Some (or should I say, a lot) of the jokes in the movie at are the expense of someone else, so if you're not a fan of this Vice Ganda-style comedy, this movie isn't for you. The film doesn't do much in terms of visual effects, and the costuming is fine, but compared to Magikland, the differences soon become apparent.

I'd personally like to see what the reception to this film is. If Star Cinema thinks this is worth investing, they might know something I don't. From a purely film standpoint, this latest installment of Mang Kepweng isn't horrible, but it doesn't exactly stick in one's memory either.

MMFF 2020 Reviews: The Boy Foretold by the Stars, Isa Pang Bahaghari, Pakboys Takusa

 

Dominic (Adrian Lindayag) studies at a boys' school. During a religious retreat (par for the course at any Catholic school, believe me) he meets Luke (Keann Johnson). At the same time, he receives a prophecy from a local fortune teller (Iyah Mina) about a potential soul mate.

The mere existence of The Boy Foretold by the Stars is astonishing in itself: it represents the first BL (Boy's Love) movie ever screened in the Philippines. Popular in countries like Thailand and Japan. BL is a genre that exploded in popularity during the pandemic season with local shows like The Ideafirst Company's Gameboys. Last year, I would never have predicted that we would have a film like this in the MMFF, but here we are, and that fact makes me overjoyed.

It's a very sweet, well shot film that follows the conventional tropes of the genre, and that in itself is a huge thing. But even though the film is relatively wholesome the film still manages to address the difficulties effeminate gays face while living in a very conservative, even homophobic society. The film even explores, in certain classroom scenes, the roots of that homophobia and how interpretations of religious texts can be weaponized for people to rationalize their own hate.

But I digress. The Boy Foretold by the Stars is a simple love story, one that tells us that love may not always be up to destiny, sometimes it takes one person to say "fuck it," throw caution to the wind, and just start loving.

Because of the title's similarities to Joel Lamangan's other recent MMFF entry, Rainbow's Sunset, I thought Isa Pang Bahaghari was also an LGBT love story. I was only partially correct, as this film is more a family melodrama with some LGBT elements.

Dom (Philip Salvador) returns home after a long stint abroad, and not by choice. He comes home to his wife Lumen (Nora Aunor), and she is not happy about him coming back. If you just caught yourself thinking "hey, this sounds really similar to Coming Home," yeah, me too. But this time the script makes it easier to suspend disbelief, and the lead actors make the script work somehow. He was lost at sea, and someone took care of him, eventually getting married to him. It's still a pretty out there explanation. The plot still begs several questions: Dom lived with someone else abroad for years? Why wasn't he deported? Did he hide from the authorities? Why didn't he contact Lumen? Was his new family really that stingy with international calls?

The film feels very old fashioned. The film's narrative is reminiscent of family dramas from the nineties and early 2000s. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but the proceedings move at a very languid place, and the plot drags in several areas. Also, at a time where films like the aforementioned The Boy Foretold by the Stars exist, the inclusion of the "baklang martir" trope with Michael De Mesa's subplot (he's Dom's best friend and has been carrying a torch for him all these years) feels a little dated. 

I'll give Isa Pang Bahaghari this: it's not as bogged down with sideplots as Rainbow's Sunset. The conflict between Dom and Lumen gets resolved more or less by the 2/3 mark, leaving more time for the story to explore its characters. And it all comes to a head with an ending that I can only describe as baffling. It's a major stretch of disbelief, and the emotional impact of the ending with audiences will vary. I can say the same for the entire film, to be honest.

I'd have thought, with the pandemic shutting down movies and moviemaking for a year, that we would not see any stinkers this year, at least nothing too bad.

I was a fool to think that.

Pakboys Takusa is a film about four married lotharios whose sole purpose in life seems to be to breed with as many women as possible. I didn't bother to know their character names, because unless they're pets, animals don't have any names. They style themselves as Casanovas. I think the more appropriate term would be "sexual predator." One of these "people", (notable Gunpla seller Andrew E) is even a dentist. He makes out with several of his patients, which violates several professional codes. Note that I put people in quotation marks.

Most of the film consists of one joke: one (or more) of the four Pakboys is cheating on his wife, sometimes with multiple women, sometimes two or more Pakboys with the same woman. Said wife almost catches him in the act; he reacts by making outlandish excuses. Wife inexplicably forgives him. Rinse, repeat. This goes on for one hundred and twenty three fucking minutes. As you may notice, this joke is no longer funny; it is even less funny when you repeat the same joke 420 times. It was never funny, but some guys way back seemed to think it was funny. They are, of course, wrong. 

There is nothing to speak of about the film's plot, because it probably consists of scribblings on a torn receipt for Knorr Chicken Cubes. The film copies the formulas of similar films from the eighties and nineties. Hell, there's even a beach scene for some reason. There's no point thinking about it. This is like the worst porn ever: no plot (expected for porn), but no sex either. And what's left isn't even funny.

I wrote something when I wrote my review of Sanggano, Sanggago't Sanggwapo, and I think it still applies here:

this is fantasy wish fulfillment for middle aged old men, that somehow their old, bloated, fat, rotting bodies are still desirable to younger women even though they do not have the money or charisma to attract them; that somehow they can hold their own in a martial arts fight with hardened thugs; that they are actually as charming and cool and suave and funny as they think they are. This is a film by dinosaurs for dinosaurs.

Maybe the people involved did the film as an excuse to ogle chicks, I dunno.

Wait John, I hear you say, maybe this film portrays the toxic, philanderous behavior of its main characters because at the end, the characters realize how wrong they were and change for the better. HAHA NOPE! The film makes it a point that none of these characters have learned their lesson and will keep on happily shooting their spooge into any hole (not specifying which, because maybe they like butt stuff) that's available at the moment, like a cream pie conveyor belt, their penises bobbing up and down into an assembly line of gaping vaginas. 

Then again, I hear certain stalwart protectors of Philippine Cinema pipe up and say: well, this movie isn't for you. And to that I say, yes, I fully agree. This is not a movie for me. This is not a movie for anyone I know. This is not a movie for any self respecting human being. The only people I can recommend this to are probably sex offenders or genetically downgraded mutants.

Pakboys Takusa is the putrid grime festering on the perineum of Philippine Cinema. It's not satisfying, it's not funny, and it was a general waste of time for all involved. I am now stupider for having watched it, and if you, dear reader, try to watch it anyway, may whatever god you believe in have mercy on your soul.

MMFF 2020 Reviews: Magikland, Fan Girl, Coming Home

 

The realm of Magikland is in trouble. The evil forces of Mogrodo-or have taken the kingdom from its rightful rulers and things look bleak. In desperation, the deposed rulers seek out "champions" from our world in order to save them from complete darkness. It just turns out that those four champions are a bunch of kids.

Magikland reminds me of the type of movies the MMFF came to be known for in the early 2000s (and probably a bit earlier) - effects-driven, family friendly films. And it comes as no surprise, either - the late Peque Gallaga, director of the seminal Magic Temple (1996) helped make the film in order to promote the theme park of the same name. This is that type of MMFF film, refined and reimagined for modern times with modern filmmaking magic.

The film's production design stands out, creating a world that feels fantastical, but is often rooted in a design sensibility that feels recognizably Filipino. The CGI is spotty at some points, but when it works, it works very well.

The film also manages to look into the lives of these children outside the world of fantasy: Boy's mother is dying and he uses the Magikland game to retreat into his own world, and Kit and Maya are children on the opposite sides of separated parents. But it is Pat's story arc that gained my attention the most. Compared to his relatively well-off friends, Pat is poor and unwanted, subjected to abuse and judgement by his peers and local authorities, and he would not have been scouted by the people of Magikland if he had not gained access to a stolen cellphone. Access to Magikland is a privilege he gains access to by chance, but even then, he is integral to the success of the quest - he simply wasn't given the chance to excel on his own by society at large. His mystical item is a defensive item, perhaps an inadvertent piece of subtext commenting on resilience narratives? One's interpretation may vary. And at the end of the film, he elects to stay, because he knows that in an oppressive society like ours, there's no place for someone like him. It's one of the quiet tragedies of the film and I can't stop thinking about it even long after the credits have rolled.

It's a shame we didn't get to see this film in cinemas - perhaps one day, when the conditions are right, we can see ambitious blockbusters like this in theaters again.

They exude charisma, they say the right words, they do the right things. People love them when they do that, and sometimes, people love them even when they don't. We see them as immaculate paragons, even though that veneer of perfection can be manufactured. 

Sometimes people see them as gods.

It's not a phenomenon that's exclusive to our country, and it's not our first time, either. Lino Brocka knew, in his 1980 film Bona, how our unique culture, shaped by colonial forces, makes us perfect candidates for this kind of phenomenon. Our learned behavior towards blind faith, and our proclivity towards seeing strongmen as saviors, has fooled us before. In Antoinette Jadaone's Fan Girl, that idea is there too. Different strongman, different time, but people are suffering all the same. But the object of desire in this film is no bit player, he's a fictionalized version of one of the country's most well-known actors, Paulo Avelino. And the titular fan girl in the center of our story, Jane (a revelatory Charlie Dizon) is perhaps not as self sacrificing as Aunor's Bona, but they both eventually reach similar conclusions. She desires the object of her worship; the mere proximity to her idol becomes an intoxicating drug. But she wants more. She is not as blind as we think.

The self-reflexivity in the film is interesting, considering that, for a film produced partly by ABS-CBN's Black Sheep, that same celebrity culture owes its current level of cultural reach to Star Cinema and its ilk. In fact, the fictional If We Fall in Love, the movie within a movie that figures in Fan Girl's central storyline, feels like it could've been made by Star Cinema. 

It's a movie whose course evokes similarities to Jadaone's own Alone/Together (2019), in that it explores a woman's coming of age and emancipation from the cultural shackles that bind her both as a woman and as a blind follower. And in this film, when Jane finally wakes up, she sees that her obsession is mirrored everywhere - and not just with matinee idols. In fact, if one looks closely, they exist in plain sight. But therein lies the catharsis: Jane has awakened. And when one wakes up, it would be travesty to close one's eyes again.

Benny (Jinggoy Estrada) is a shitty man. He left his family for another woman, and there's no disputing that. The film tries to frame it like the other party seduced him, but the film fails; after all, it takes two to tango and after the fact, he stayed with his mistress for good. This was Benny's decision, and nothing more. He does this despite the fact that his eldest son gave his kidney (and died) for his sake. Let me repeat this: he made a conscious choice to leave his wife and family.

Benny finds his way back home to his family after years of being absent. It's more like his wheelchair-bound self is dumped on the curb by his new partner, which is frankly more than he deserves. It's unclear whether he himself made the decision to return or his new wife decided for him, because when he arrives he looks sick as shit.

His children mostly do not want anything to do with Benny. They've all been traumatized in one way or another due to their father's actions and are all the worse for it. One is stuck in an abusive relationship. The other deals with it by emulating his father's behavior, falling in love with a married woman. The other one took being absent seriously and gets lost at sea. Pirates were involved, don't ask.

Despite this, Benny's wife Sally (Sylvia Sanchez) wants the family to forgive her husband and come together as one family. Absolutely nothing in the film would have changed had Benny not been involved in the equation, had the siblings learned to help and support each other without the toxic source of their troubles looming over them like a fat and ugly Professor X.

Benny says he's changed, but nothing in the film seems to indicate that. He says he's sorry, but his words seem hollow. He made his bed, and now he's sleeping in it. But the film doesn't want that to happen. A reconciliation is then forced upon the family, and we are made to watch. The film even goes for the waterworks in its justification of this, but again: if Benny were not in the story, absolutely nothing would have changed.

Coming Home is full of toxic hypocrites, who feel that a family together is a good thing, even though the forgiveness needed isn't justified at all in this case. The film asks us to forgive shitty men, while handwaving away or weakly explaining the reasons behind their shittiness. And for what? The film failed to make me forgive Benny, and sometimes when I see him hollowly apologizing yet again, it's sometimes not Benny that I see, asking for forgiveness. Instead, I see the man behind the character asking for forgiveness. And to be honest, I don't think the film succeeded in that regard either.

QCinema 2020: Midnight in a Perfect World

 

The "perfect world" of Dodo Dayao's second feature film doesn't look too different compared to ours: young people go out and drink, have fun, go to restaurants and live their lives. But strange things happen at midnight: darkness envelops the cityscape, sirens blare and people vanish. But everything is fine, our protagonists say. As long as it happens to someone else, I'm safe. It all sounds very familiar. Perhaps one of your relatives has told you that with the way things are, they haven't felt safer walking down the streets at night. But is that safety all an illusion?

Like many others have already pointed out, Midnight in a Perfect World deconstructs the very idea of "safety". The horror genre, then, is the perfect way to express the loss of that idea, and this film in particular gets it. Striking cinematography from DP Albert Banzon bathes frames in darkness, creating an atmosphere of disorientation; it's been attempted before with films like Khavn's Three Days of Darkness (2007) but those films were not as successful, and the technology just wasn't there. The sound design is equally impeccable; Dayao's films and his other works (such as the recent streaming series The Tapes, which he wrote) all possess a solid sonic footing, relying less on jump scares and more on creating an atmosphere of dread. This movie is tense, suffocating, and it hardly lets up.

But what is perhaps most terrifying about Midnight in a Perfect World is that we don't have to look very far to see ourselves, reflected: this film was, in my best recollection, filmed late last year, but with its release in late 2020 I would not be surprised if you told me it was filmed last week. For only a few months ago, in a place that the higher-ups called 'safe,' the streets were empty, with parts of the city bathed in darkness. During the height of a pandemic, sirens blared in Manila at night, with warnings telling people not to come out or face the consequences. And here, too, even in a world as imperfect as ours, from back then and even until now, people vanish without a trace.

QCinema 2020: True Mothers

 

If I had to pick someone to adapt Mizuki Tsujimura's novel True Mothers, I can think of few people better suited to the job than Naomi Kawase. And it's not just due to the gentle emotionality of her other films, either: Kawase was raised by her grandmother/great aunt after her parents' divorce, giving her first-hand experience of what it feels like to be raised by someone other than one's biological parents. Kawase's earlier works such as Katatsumori (1994) reflect on her relationship with her grandmother, put into context years later in Tarachime (2006) which contrasts her relationship with her grandmother with her own impending motherhood.

True Mothers tells the story of the Kuriharas, a family who wants to raise a child, but cannot due to a number of factors. They learn of an adoption service after seeing a feature on TV, and they decide to try it out. They eventually find a young mother-to-be, Hikari (Aju Makita), the exchange is made, and they part ways. But as we find out in the beginning of the film, that decision came with a lot of baggage, and the Kuriharas and Hikari find themselves reunited, albeit in vastly different circumstances for Hikari.

The original novel focuses on the mystery of Hikari's appearance, but in this film Kawase focuses more on the characters instead. There are strong societal pressures that influence Hikari's decision to give up her baby, and arguably there are different societal influences that push the Kuriharas towards adoption. The film finds its place in mundane, day to day activities, especially in the first half with young Asato, the child at the center of the film. Like in her previous works, Kawase finds the value in each of those shared memories. For Kawase, she once said that, to her, movies are a way for people to relive those precious moments that would otherwise have been forgotten.

While the movie goes through the motions, oftentimes delving into melodrama, and a lot regrettably remains unexplored at the end, what's more important in True Mothers is the emotional connection these characters make with each other, and the journeys both mothers undertake for their child (adopted or not) and themselves.

PPP 2020: The Highest Peak

 

David (Dax Alejandro) wants to climb Mount Apo, the highest peak in the Philippines, after the death of his wife and son. To do so, he needs a porter - and after fate gives him an unlikely choice, he sets out on a personal journey that takes him into interesting paths.

The mountain trek as personal journey narrative has been explored before in local cinema in films such as Pepe Diokno's Above the Clouds (2014), but usually in these narratives, the climbers are usually outsiders. While that holds true in The Highest Peak, we are also told the perspective of the people living around and in the mountain itself.

It's clear that David is more involved with Mount Apo than it first seems - he was once part of a mining company that planned to take advantage of the mountain's resources to the detriment of its Lumad population. In a way, this journey is not only one of healing, but redemption. As he makes his way up, he gains firsthand knowledge of the lives of the people he was about to ruin. While that happens, Apo itself becomes a character, its occasional earthquakes almost like signals of discontent.

That said, everything I just mentioned works in theory, but the execution is lacking. While this film is a step up from earlier efforts such as Tu Pug Imatuy (2017) and Kaaway sa Sulod (2019), a lot of details are lost thanks to an edit that doesn't bring all these concepts together. For example, had I not known the synopsis of the film first hand, I'd have thought that Mara Lopez's character was David's wife instead of someone else, and certain flashback scenes don't feel like flashbacks, making the film slightly difficult to parse.

And once David has reached the peak, with all the standard melodramatic bells and whistles, what then? He joins the people of the mountain, he partakes in their struggles. All admirable things, of course, but the threat of large corporations is still there, and they won't go away. I'm personally torn whether that storytelling decision is justified or not. While Barbarona does touch upon the different ways the mountain is exploited by capitalists and corporations, what about the local efforts of the government to stop and prevent (or, in some cases, facilitate) that exploitation? What are the other effects of this exploitation towards the Lumad communities?  While, to be fair, the film does depict some of this, it's only during the last 10 minutes or so when this happens. The picture the film paints feels incomplete.

That said, while heavily flawed, there were some parts to The Highest Peak that I enjoyed, and hopefully Barbarona and company get to refine their filmmaking skills even more with future projects.