Eiga Sai 2017: The Magnificent Nine, Creepy

Based on real historical events, Yoshihiro Nakamura's The Magnificent Nine sounds too good to be true. It concerns the residents of a dying post town that helps carry supplies to a feudal lord from one village to another. There's considerable economic strain on the town (leading many to flee the town at night) which leads the local populace to concoct an audacious, very un-feudal idea: loan money to the feudal lord, then collect on the interest to help fund the town's expenses.

The vibe of the film seems reminiscent of Nakamura's other films, such as Fish Story (2009), where a band of unlikely individuals cooperate to cancel an impending apocalypse. Granted, the stakes  here aren't as high, but we are still invested in seeing these people succeed in their plan.

The film is presented with a very distinct flavor of Japanese humor, which keeps the film from being boring. And while it is presented humorously, it presents us a critique of feudal economic systems that persist even today. It casts a light on the undue suffering the ruling class unwittingly proposes on its subjects, just as now, the 99% suffer through policies, laws and economic situations geared to serve the top 1%. Instead of proposing bloody revolution, the film proposes individuals working the system to their favor, for the continued prosperity of all.

In the film there's also an all pervading cultural sensibility of cooperation to elevate the entire community above economic selfishness and petty desires, a sensibility that feels Japanese but one that I think can be applied to other cultures as well, as soon as we leave our prejudices at the door. And by the entire community, I mean everyone helps - from the rich uptown merchants, the sake brewers from midtown, and the laborers and farmers with nary a cent to their name. In current times where greed and an emphasis towards self preservation prevails, the movie serves as a lesson on capitalist excess.

Though the English title mentions nine individuals, there's a large ensemble cast of varied and interesting characters. The brothers Jinnai (Satoshi Tsumabuki) and Juzaburo (Sadao Abe) take up a large chunk of the narrative, but other characters like Toki (Yuko Takeuchi) serve as the heart and nervous system of the town, often providing help from unexpected places.

Though occasionally languidly paced, The Magnificent Nine proves highly entertaining. Looking at its themes and subtext, it gives us lessons that we need given the state of our economy and life today.

With 2016's Creepy, Kiyoshi Kurosawa returns to form after a slew of lighter movies like Journey to the Shore. Here, however, the horror is less supernatural and far more insidious, making the entire thing far more terrifying. He continues his exploration of the idiosyncrasies of the Japanese family unit as seen in films like Tokyo Sonata (2008), dissecting it piece by piece, organ by organ. And as with his seminal 2001 film Pulse, it is an examination of loneliness in Japanese society.

A detective turned professor, Koichi Takakura moves into a quiet neighborhood along with his wife Yasuko. soon, she tries to befriend her neighbor, eventually concentrating on one in particular (Teruyuki Kagawa). Koichi, on the other hand, tries to investigate a slew of unsolved murders and begins to see a bizarre web that leads him close to home...

Teruyuki Kagawa is perfect as Mr. Nishino, The Takakura's neighbor. There's something off with the man from the very first frame you see him, and Kagawa's face contorts in all sorts of interestingly creepy ways. His presence becomes lingering, like a creeping cancer, and it all plays into the film's climax and conclusion.

The bizarre murders Koichi is investigating tie into Kurosawa's themes - it's home invasion in the most subtle way, an erasure of identity borne from malicious intent, but perpetuated through an inability to communicate properly, even in people within the closest social bubbles. Like in Kurosawa's other films, this self imposed isolation proves destructive for everyone involved.

If you've ever looked at your neighbor's house and wondered what exactly is going in there, asked yourself what kind of lives are those people living in there, this film taps into that curiosity and turns it into unsettling fear. For all its flaws, Creepy is Kurosawa at the top of his game.

Eiga Sai is currently showing at Edsa Shangri-La Cineplex at 100 pesos a screening.

Eiga Sai 2017 + Cinephilia on the Go: Chihayafuru Live Action Adaptations

Last year I went to Japan to relax (with a little semi-work related stuff on the side) and I decided to take a moment and watch a Japanese movie in theaters. Long story short, I ended up watching two. Japanese movies in Japan don't have subtitles, because, why would they need them, right? (I've heard some groups holding subtitled screenings, but they are exceptions to the rule.) English movies are usually presented with subtitles, though some theaters or releases have dubbed screenings. In any case I watched these two films without subtitles to test my own comprehension skills. (It turned out pretty well.)

In contrast to cinema houses here in the Philippines, where they are invariably attached to malls, Japanese Cinemas mostly operate by themselves, with several cinema chains around the country. During this trip I spent my time in two cinemas: the Humax Cinema in Ikebukuro and Cinema City in Tachikawa City.

Humax Cinema is located along Sunshine street in Ikebukuro. They share a building with other stores, such as a karaoke place and a used book store. The Cinemas are located on the 6th floor upwards. It's a relatively small cinema house, similar in capacity to the cinematheques in Hong Kong. Their largest cinemas can probably hold 100 or so people.

The seats are comfy and large and the sound is great, equivalent to a premium cinema here. It goes without saying that the picture and projection quality is top notch compared to Philippine cinemas.

Tachikawa City is farther off from the center of Tokyo. It's an interesting place in and of itself, so sightseeing isn't a bad idea. The main thing you might notice in the city aside from its futuristic design is the presence of the Tachikawa monorail which connects the city with other nearby places.

Cinema City is composed of larger, separate buildings. The cafe at the ground floor of the building I went into was closed, but a concession stand is present at the higher floors. 

The cinema itself is just as large as the cinemas in Ikebukuro, though the seats are a tad smaller. They are still extremely comfortable, comparable to a premium cinema in the Philippines.

So you go to the ticket counter and do the ticket buying thing (choose a scheduled screening, choose a seat, etc.) If you know basic Japanese it's far easier, though I guess you can get through it if you point and speak broken English.

This particular screening (it was Wednesday) cost 1800 yen (~800 PHP). I'm guessing tax was involved somehow. That's really pricey considering our own ticket prices. As a base price, regular non holiday days cost 1000 yen, while Saturdays cost 1300 yen. There are also discounts for children under 6 months or senior citizens.

Tickets are given to a person near the theater entrance, where they punch a hole on the ticket or tear something off. There are usually a few trailers before the actual movie starts. The Japanese for the most part stay all the way all to the very end of the credits; many stand up only until the entire thing is over. It's also very silent as almost no one talks during the movie.

Local releases can last long in cinemas, with some movies lasting months to even a year in theaters. So what exactly did I watch? Here are some reviews.

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It goes without saying that Chihayafuru is one of my all time favorite manga/anime. Part sports drama, part romance, part slice of life, it's one of the most emotionally charged, touching anime I've ever seen. The sport in question is Hyakunin Isshu Karuta, a Japanese card game with both recreational and competitive elements. It boils down to memorization: someone recites the first half of one of a number of poems (there are 100 in total) then the player has to select the card with the corresponding second half before his/her opponent can. Of course, the manga/anime is so much more than that, giving us relateable characters and seriously affecting drama.

The first part of the live action adaptation adapts most of the furst half of the first season of the anime, while the second part covers the second half. The direction is sound and although the adaptation moves around or omits or changes certain characters, it keeps most of the dramatic arcs intact...

That is, except for one crucial arc of the anime and manga. The live action Chihayafuru skims over most of the flashback story that establishes the deep friendship between protagonists Chihaya, Arata and Taichi. In the anime it's seriously tearjerking stuff and it helps set up most of the subsequent dramatic arcs of the main story. Here, it's touched upon very lightly, so viewers new to the series might not pick up these relationships as well as they should. It's one of the pitfalls of adapting a lengthy work such as this.

Chihayafuru has always been a series about youth and love and finding beauty in those things, reflected in the hundred-year old poems of the Hyakunin Isshu. Though it's a relatively simple series, it does these simple elements extremely well, Much of that, thankfully, translates into the live action adaptation. 

The production is buoyed by a great cast. Suzu Hirose is a great choice as Chihaya, playing cutesy and serious at just the right amounts. Shuhei Nomura (who was in last Eiga Sai's Flying Colors) brings out the pathos as Taichi (I ship Chihaya-Taichi, no lie) with Mackenyu (a.k.a. Sonny Chiba's son) rounding up the trio in his role as Arata, though he's underused for most of the first part. Other notable actors include Mone Kamishiraishi (Your Name, among others) as Kanade and character actor Jun Kunimura (Shin Godzilla) as Harada. Composer Masaru Yokoyama (who worked in the anime adaptation of Your Lie in April) brings a lot of emotional heft in these scenes, especially in a crucial moment in the climax of the second film.

Though Chihayafuru (the movie and the anime) has ended, the manga series is still on going. And there's word of an additional live action movie, Chihayafuru Musubi, set to release next year. My hopes are up for a possible third anime season if the movie proves popular enough.

Eiga Sai 2017 Introduction

Eiga Sai 2017 runs this week until the next, and since we're all about Asian Cinema in this thing, We're going to cover most (if not all) of the films in the festival.

I've seen a number of the films in the fest already, either in previous festivals (like Departure) or during their original theatrical runs either in Hong Kong or Japan. I've covered The Long Excuse and Mohican Comes Home before and you can find it by clicking on the link below.

Mohican Comes Home and The Long Excuse

I also have unfinished reviews of several other films featured in this festival, so expect those to come out as they come out during the festival. One in particular, (Chihayafuru parts 1 and 2) is part of a 2016 Japanese movie travelogue that I never completed so I guess I can finish that up and upload within the day.

Movie Reviews Jun/Jul 2017: Ang Pagsanib Kay Leah Dela Cruz, Reset, Confidential Assignment, In This Corner of the World (rewatch)

Lots of personal events so the movies had to wait. With Eiga Sai around the corner, these posts should appear earlier. Probably.

North-South narratives are a dime a dozen in South Korean cinema, running the gamut from action flicks to comedies, to more serious fare like JSA. With Confidential Assignment, this narrative is applied to, of all things, a buddy cop movie.

Interestingly, the movie subverts what I expected from these films; the North Korean detective Lim Chul-ryeong is played by handsome Kim Bum, while South Korean detective Kang is played by veteran character actor Yoo Hae-jin, who takes on a more comedic role here. Then again, the handsome/dashing North Korean outsider has existed as a trope as long as North-South movies have existed.

Buddy cop movies take a lot from the relationship of the two buddies with each other, and Confidential Assignment takes this up a notch by having the two protagonists from two countries that are still technically at war with each other. The film doesn't take the easy step of having culture shock jokes at one country's expense, though there's the occasional starving North Korean/capitalist pig South Korean joke in dialogue. Kang and Lim's relationship becomes a reflection of the two Koreas, as both are instructed by higher ups and their ingrained prejudices to spy and mistrust each other. The film resolves itself when both parties begin to work not for their own country's self interest, but for each other. The film's not so subtle message is that once united, both Koreas can do anything.

That said, the cop elements of the movie are okay, but mostly forgettable. The whole idea of both parties mistrusting the other leaves little room for comedic moments, which leads to a pretty unremarkable (though occasionally fun) third act. Confidential Assignment may not be the best, but it's an interesting take on the North-South Korea narrative, and a positive one at that; something that we need considering the current political milieu.

Reset, a science fiction thriller film produced by Jackie Chan and directed by Korean director Chang, is built on a pretty outrageous premise. Basically, the multiverse exists and scientists have figured out a way to use that to travel through time. It operates similarly to multiverse theory in Dragonball Z, where people technically don't go back in time in their universe, but they go to the past of an almost identical parallel universe. (This resolves any paradoxes that might happen.)

This premise is compounded with a corporate espionage plot and a melodramatic thriller where a mom races against time to save the life of her child.

Reset's premise is fascinating, but the resulting fiction betrays the possibilities of the science. Much of the plot can be resolved had protagonist Xia Tian (Yang Mi) just stopped and explained everything to her colleagues. It's not as if her colleagues would not understand; they are working on the same project anyway, and if she either runs out of time or she learns there's a traitor in the midst... who cares? She has a literal TIME MACHINE.

The movie is marred by villains that are uninteresting (including a surprise villain that feels like an ass-pull) and weird lapses in storytelling, like how Xia Tian (3) has easy access to so many guns. The final act is rushed (and predictable, given the situation) and we don't really see what the shadowy organization behind the villain will do next. With such an interesting premise, the movie doesn't really do much with it, as it only eases into the whole time travel thing almost halfway into the film.

That said, the movie has some really suspenseful moments. It's the kind of movie you can enjoy as long as you don't think about it that much. So while it has its merits, Reset is ambitious, but ultimately disappointing.

Ang Pagsanib Kay Leah Dela Cruz is a movie of whispers, whether it be gossip, hearsay, a product of mental illness, or the demonic whispers of a malevolent entity. Its titular character is involved with a bizarre incident which may or may not involve supernatural elements.

But the movie is more than just that. It skillfully creates an atmosphere of dread and uncertainty within the confines of the small town it is set in. As much as it is about  titular character and the dark secrets she holds, it is also about the darkness in all of us, in how we all have the potential to become monsters. None of the characters in Ang Pagsanib Kay Leah Dela Cruz are clearly good; all of them struggle with their own darkness, all succumbing to it eventually in the end.

The storytelling has a couple of lapses, especially in the final act. Its revelations come too fast to process, a consequence of the movie trying to hold out on its revelations for as long as possible. And it begs to be said, and it has been mentioned before, but since it is part and parcel of my profession I have to say it: intubated patients connected to a mechanical ventilator cannot speak. (That is, of course, unless said character developed supernatural, evil vocal cords for some reason.)

Technically, the film is visually superb. Prior to directing this film, Katski Flores was involved in directing for TV. Her only other directing credit for movies was the 2007 Cinemalaya film Still Life, a film that I absolutely loved at the time. Shy Carlos' role as Leah Dela Cruz is quite appropriate, while Sarah Lahbati plays policewoman Ruth Liwanag as tough and stoic, yet troubled by events from her past.

Ang Pagsanib Kay Leah Dela Cruz is a flawed, yet effective exercise in genre filmmaking, creating choking tension and delivering a narrative that operates on themes that feel ever more relevant today.

And finally, the best movie out in cinemas for the past week is Sunao Katabuchi's In This Corner of the World. I've already talked about this film during its commercial run in Hong Kong, so I'll just add some additional thoughts on the film here.

My favorite scene in the movie is during the time of the first major air attack in Kure. US airplanes and flak fills the sky; our main character, Suzu, sees the flak as rainbow-colored clouds; her reaction ranges from fear to awe, wishing that she had something to draw this scene.

That scene encapsulates the movie's viewpoint of ordinary men and women engulfed by the horrors of war, specs of dust dwarfed by war's monstrous scale. It shows us how in war, everyone is made a victim, whether they are on the losing side or not.

While war is a tangible reality to Suzu and her family, it exists more as an abstract idea rather than a range of political beliefs. That's reflective of a good number of Japanese works on the civilian experience of World War II: most are just normal people with hopes and dreams trapped in a situation they didn't exactly want. Even the soldier characters are driven to the military by dwindling economic prospects at home, one character's brother having joined a naval academy because he didn't have money for tuition.

It's a fine, tricky line talking about war in movies, especially in movies portrayed by opposing sides of a particular conflict. I find it has always been most effective, like in this case, when a movie eschews glorification and tells us the human cost of a war and how futile it ultimately is.

Next week is the local Japanese film festival, Eiga Sai, so watch out for a comprehensive take on that. Till then, see you guys at the movies.

My genetically modified organism Totor... I mean Okja

"Translation is Sacred," an activist (through a tattoo) proudly declares in Bong Joon-ho's latest film, Okja. And its story about a girl trying to rescue her "super pig" friend from the hands of an evil corporation, is trademark Bong, this time infused with a certain madcap, wacky quality that makes it one of the more comedic turns of his body of work.

The first part of the film, where we are acclimatized to the relationship between Mija, the girl, and Okja, is cute and idyllic, somewhat reminiscent of Ghibli films - not necessarily Miyazaki's My Neighbor Totoro, but more Isao Takahata's Pom Poko. When things finally get on the ground, we are quickly thrust into the rest of the world, who mostly views cuddly animals like Okja as nothing more than food (note that almost everyone else - the mainstream media, the Mirando corporation, etc - calls Okja a "product" and nothing more.)

This is where the film's ideas on translation manifest themselves in full force. Okja is a film about communication and the common language of society. It was made as a movie with a cast of South Korean and Hollywood actors. It's mostly bilingual, with dialogue in both South Korean and English (sometimes cleverly mistranslated.) The notion of 'translation' cleverly inserts itself into the story as well - the main storyline conflict stems from a failure of communication, a long line of 'little white lies' ranging from a grandpa that lies to cover up an uncomfortable truth, an overzealous activist, or a corporation that tries to hide their practices under kitsch, garish, 'we're relate-able' marketing. Also, it also touches on languages that are wordless, but nevertheless universal - an appreciation of nature, empathy towards others and selfless love (and in the case of greedy corporations and the film's finale, cold, hard cash). 

This ties into the more obvious, anti-capitalist subtext that we see during the film's second half. Bong has done it before in his previous films, whether it be an anti-imperialist sentiment under the pro-environmental themes of The Host (2006), or a treatise on class struggle and conflict in Snowpiercer (2013.) Okja and Mija are both subjected to this overly commercialized world (with Mija often rebelling violently - the kid has no chill) filled with PR events and what have you, while more sinister, disturbing things happen beneath the surface. Anyone who has worked in advertising knows most of the stuff advertisers do is spin, translating corporate desires to make companies and products more palatable to consumers.

The acting is generally good across the board, with Tilda Swinton and child actress Ahn Seo-hyun's performances being particularly superb. The CGI work on the film is neat and seamless, and Okja feels lifelike, even though she looks like this hippo-pig that we've never really seen before. Bong manages to balance the film's tone from deadly serious to wistful or darkly comedic.

Overall, this is a nice place to start if you are not familiar with the director's body of work. It's an entertaining film with multiple layers of meaning.

Okja is available now via streaming on Netflix. 

Can We Still Be Friends, Star Cinema? I guess so.

One of the best things going for Star Cinema's latest romantic venture, Can We Still Be Friends? is that it doesn't feel like a Star Cinema rom com. This is the third movie of directing-screenwriting team Prime Cruz and Jen Chuaunsu, after 2015's Sleepless and 2016's Ang Manananggal sa Unit 23b. Like those two movies, this film has a distinct visual style and tone that is quite different from the loudly colored, noisy kind of film I've come to expect from the Star Cinema behemoth.

Can We Still Be Friends? does not start with showing us two lovers discovering each other for the first time; instead, it starts off showing two people in a long term relationship cracking under the strain. Sam (Arci Munoz) has tried to put up with Diego (Gerald Anderson) for eight long years, but Diego has proven to be a less than ideal partner: he's inconsiderate, he has close to zero life skills, and he pretty much lives like a  deadbeat in the condominium they both share. Sam's decision to end the relationship seems justified in this case, but she just can't let go. She feels remorseful about it and she decides to let Diego stay in their apartment even though they have separated. Thankfully, the film veers away from this premise before it becomes too silly.

A friend noticed that Anderson and Munoz seem to be getting more serious, less cutesy storylines, and in my opinion, it suits them both. Their first venture, the Dan Villegas-helmed Always Be My Maybe, is above average as far as these rom coms go. Arci Munoz in particular has delivered great performances in both films; she has a certain je ne sais quoi that sets her apart from other female leads in her acting generation.

The film's examination of relationships touches on one particular point - that relationships are built on compromise and equality between partners. Even with compromise, compromise has to be balanced between partners, as relationships built on one-sided compromise tend not to last very long. The problem is that the film stops short of delving into this more deeply, thanks to a third act that hurries through its conclusion. We are shown that personal change can help mend a broken relationship, but the film barely shows us the effort and effects of that change. Also, Arci's character is shown to be hopelessly (perhaps even pathologically) attached to Diego, which is slightly off for me, but I do admit these things do happen (and this being a Star Cinema rom com, the status quo has to be preserved in one way or another by the end.)

Other production details are top notch. The 80's synth inspired soundtrack got me going, while the film is gorgeously lensed. It's by no means a perfect film, but if you're tired of seeing the same thing from Star Cinema, this is a refreshing turn. 

June 2017 Reviews: The Lost City of Z, Fabricated City

I'll be the first to tell you that I'm not as sold on James Gray's The Lost City of Z as other people have been, but I think it is undeniable that it is a film that tends to stay with you whether you like it or not.

The book is based on the book of the same name, which details the life of British explorer Percival Fawcett as he tries to find an ancient city he calls Z. He goes repeatedly to the unexplored jungles of the Amazon in search of it, all while the great war looms ever so closer.

The cinematography is hypnotic, drawing us into the rainforest. Perhaps, even, in the same way Fawcett was entranced by the Amazon jungle. His quest is not only to clear his family name, but also to disprove entrenched colonial myths of savagery. His entrancement becomes obsession, as he takes the jungle with him wherever he goes. He also experiences surreal sequences in the jungle evoking films such as Herzog's Fitzcarraldo (1982).

While the film can be interpreted as a text on colonialism, it is so much more than that. The film excels in telling us about the hubris of imperialism in scenes which show the irony of aristocrats and socialites scoffing at the idea of an older, perhaps wiser civilization than the one they inhabit. Its irony can also be seen in what it doesn't show us directly - the suffering of capable women forced to rear baby after baby while their husbands go off on some misguided, even foolish adventure. (Apparently Fawcett's progressive ideas don't extend to his wife.) The film's final sequence, where Victorian England and the Amazon rain forest seem to merge in a mirror image, gives us the notion that one should look inward, as dangers still lurk within 'civilized' society.

Sienna Miller and Robert Pattinson end up being the pillars that hold the movie up, with Pattinson's performance being particularly interesting given that while he isn't given a lot of screen time, I found his character just as interesting as the other main players. Charlie Hunnam felt a bit flat. I think his character would have ended up more engaging had he let go of his restraint a bit more. For me, the film's real shortcomings stem not from the fact that it's too long, but from the fact that it feels truncated; as the film covers a large volume of material, it has to pick and choose which parts stay in. The last act of the film is especially guilty of this, and collectively it hurt my experience of the film.

The Lost City of Z is a film rooted in a very classical sensibility. It's ambiguous and lush with layers of meaning. While it's flawed in my eyes, it has moments that strike me as deeply profound.

Kwon Yu (Ji Chang-wook) is a dedicated online gamer who cares for his team. In the real world, however, he's an unemployed deadbeat who wastes his time and money in internet cafes. All that changes, however, when one day he is framed for a gruesome murder and sent to prison for life. Soon after, he embarks on a quest to clear his name and find out who framed him.

There's a certain amount of irreverence in Park Kwang-hyun's latest film Fabricated City. While its basic structure has been the topic of many Korean films before, it's populated with a number of interesting characters and thrilling moments of suspense that had me on the edge of my seat. While it could have been heavy handed in its examination of socioeconomic divisions in South Korean society, it approaches these topics with a devil may care sensibility. Park's approach to genre has been in place ever since his first feature film, Welcome to Dongmakgol (2005), which manages to tell a feel good tale about something as grim as the Korean War of all things.

And so, against the elites of Korean society, who have control over the media and the police, our ragtag team of protagonists and their allies consists mostly of society's fringes and marginalized members: the unemployed, the retirees, the sex workers, the hikikomori. What we see in the film's near-future setting is a dystopia that is far more subtle in its character than what we normally see: a society perpetually in surveillance, where justice can be easily miscarried in the wrong hands, and where the haves treat the have-nots like disposable garbage. The ensuing rebellion feels justified in its case, and it only heightens the suspense.

The film has its share of flaws as well. The film gives us nary a moment to breathe, especially during the climactic final part. The story is at turns pretty predictable, though it doesn't affect the tension that happens all throughout the movie anyway. Some character abilities (such as Kwon Yu's amazing driving skills) are handwaved away for the sake of coolness. The tone sometimes shifts from funny to dead serious on a dime, which can prove very jarring.

Fabricated City is a film that wears its heart on its sleeve; it's a film that can elicit mixed reactions from its viewers, and it can feel over the top at times to the point of exhaustion. But for some (including myself,) it's a thrilling ride from start to finish. I feel that one has to approach it with a certain mindset to be able to appreciate it fully.

[Reflexive Cinema] Two Nick Deocampo Documentaries on Philippine Cinema

For this month's edition of Reflexive Cinema, writer and film historian Nick Deocampo presented two of his documentaries about Philippine cinema, Cine>Sine (pictured) and Film. The two films deal with how the Spanish and Americans influenced our cinema as a whole.

Compared with the rest of our Southeast Asian neighbors, our cinema has a distinct je ne sais quoi that sets us apart from them. We are shaped by our historical and national traumas, assimilating much from our colonizers in terms of style and symbolism. The Spaniards gave us religion; the Americans, a love and dependence on Hollywood that we have not totally shaken off. After gaining independence, we have begun shaping our own national identity, and one part of that is through our culture, which includes film.

The documentaries employ computer generated images that try to recreate what our cities (and by extension, our cinemas) looked like back then. The CGI is a bit dated, but it is way cheaper than, for example, shooting on location at heritage sites or creating sets. Considering that these documentaries are small scale, often one man low budget productions, it's not really a problem.

The real meat of the material is when Deocampo cites examples for his theses, often using films by the masters of Philippine cinema such as Lino Brocka, Eddie Romero and Ishmael Bernal. While probably reams of paper have been written about these three greats in dissertations and other academic works, almost no one has ever analysed their works in critical form in a documentary style. If you count the number of local documentaries that have been made about local films in this manner, I doubt you'd count more than 20, perhaps even less. What Deocampo is doing here is important work.

Deocampo's style is light and informative. I was sometimes reminded of Carl Sagan when watching his documentaries. Sagan, whose works helped popularize science for laymen all over the world, showed high concept scientific ideas in an easy to understand manner. While watching Deocampo's two documentaries, I felt the same way, and I can see the importance of film and cultural education for moviegoers young and old. I can only imagine young people being impressed by the films of the Philippines' new wave of independent cinema while remaining ignorant of the fact that we have been making fantastic films for decades now, and that we do have a rich cinematic culture and history.

Lately, when you look at the internet, you can find tons of videos that help promote film, teach about film, and add to the critical discourse about film. There isn't really anything like that for Philippine cinema (my joke video about Querido notwithstanding.) It is my hope that in the future this will change and that one day, Filipinos will really start talking about their own movies. Maybe I am too optimistic, but one can hope.

Reflexive Cinema happens at the CCP Dream Theater every second Saturday of the month until next year (except August 2017 and January 2018). Deocampo's documentaries are also available in book form at your local bookstore through Anvil Publishing.

Baahubali is a classic Hero's Journey, Tollywood style

More than a month ago, the second part of S.S. Rajamouli's Baahubali premiered in cinemas around the world. Outside of India, there was little buzz about the movie: mainstream audiences watched the summer movie season with several boring derivative remakes or reboots, while cinephiles were anticipating the feature films of the Cannes film festival. But this film was the little film that could; it destroyed several local box office records and is now the highest grossing Indian movie worldwide, even debuting at number 3 at the Hollywood box office at the time of its release.

After seeing both parts, Baahubali is an amazing experience; it is in many ways a finely crafted series of movies, and both are now among my favorite films of the year. While it tells a story as old as time, it is in the sheer ambition and audacity of the film's craft where it truly shines. It's action packed filled with romance, comedy and drama, combining these ingredients into a fresh and tasty masala.

It should be noted that Baahubali is not a Bollywood film, which many people equate with Indian cinema. Baahubali is a film made in Tollywood, the Telugu-language film industry operating mainly out of Hyderabad. As I've noted in some of my previous posts, Bollywood's southern brethren, producing movies in the Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam and Kannada languages, collectively make up the South Indian film industry. While producing more films per year in terms of output compared to their Mumbai counterpart, they operate mostly in the shadow of their more well-known brother.

And if you look at the basic story structure of Baahubali as a whole, it mirrors the common structure of a South Indian action revenge film - an introductory setup, a climactic interval sequence, a lengthy flashback showing the protagonist's intentions and backstory, and a climactic conclusion. This story within a story storytelling device is popular with, but not new to Indian cinema - it predates movies and dates all the way back to the great Sanskrit epics.

Baahubali is heavily inspired by these epics, especially the Ramayana and Mahabharata. It's woven into a Hero's Journey type of story with a modern cinematic sensibility that is easily palatable for modern audiences. And while the film may look conventional, in the context of Indian cinema, this is a daring experiment. Rajamouli has been known to push the boundaries of mainstream filmmaking with some of his recent films. His 2012 film Eega recontextualizes the South Indian revenge film by having a man reincarnated as a fly as the enactor of revenge, while his 2009 film Magadheera contains some of the conceptual seeds that would become Baahubali, as it tells a tale of a bike racer who has visions of a tragic past life. Magadheera, at the time, inspired a wave of other films in the other regional industries which explored similar themes.

The film is buoyed by an exceptional ensemble cast. Prabhas, who has starred mostly in romantic comedies and some action flicks before this, is perfect as Baahubali, a hero virtuous to a fault. He's worked with Rajamouli before in one of his early films, Chhatrapati (2005). He is balanced out by Rana Daggubati, whose character is driven with more complex emotions of guilt, jealousy and anger. Ramya Krishnan, Tamannaah Bhatia and Anushka Shetty are capable female leads, especially Krishnan and Shetty, who play very strong female characters for an Indian production. my favorite role has to go to the esteemed veteran Tamil actor Sathyaraj, who plays Baahubali's loyal companion Katappa. His character arc of loyalty, betrayal and redemption is the film's most powerful in my opinion.

M.M. Keeravani does the soundtrack. It uses leitmotifs and songs in very interesting and poetic ways. As any layman probably knows, many Indian movies tend to be musicals. The musical intervals may be used to illustrate a person's viewpoint, introduce a character or substitute for a romantic interlude like a love scene. Here, the usage of songs does not only that, but it also adds several more complex layers to the narrative.

And here is where the film really, truly shines. It's true that the movie is not perfect and has its faults. You could fault it for having uneven CGI: the film was made at ~30 million dollars each, which is a pittance compared to modern Hollywood blockbuster budgets.The action sequences could be described as over the top, but in this context I think the action sequences are justified, as we are seeing demigods on the battlefield, of course I would expect things to be ramped up to almost silly levels of awesomeness. (Not to mention it's very entertaining.) The film builds up some characters, while under-developing others, especially during the duology's final climactic act. Despite all of that, there are moments in this film that shine like magic.

One of these magical scenes is my favorite scene in the entire movie series. Notice the picture above. It's from one of the earliest musical sequences in the film. The main character, Shivudu, has been trying to scale this wall of water for almost all of his life, never succeeding once. He is haunted by the apparition of a woman after seeing a mask fall down from the waterfall, and he becomes a little obsessed by it. This sequence sees him attempting to scale the mountain for the last time, guided by her spirit. Employing a mix of live action footage and CGI, it's absolutely gorgeous to watch. It's accompanied by Keeravani's song Dhivara (the title of the song changes depending on the language version, this is the original Telugu title), whose lyrics are mixed in with Sanskrit chants. These chants themselves have multiple poetic layers of meaning, and to the person that understands these layers, it gives him or her a deeper understanding of the scene. By the time he scales the mountain, there is a palpable feeling of triumph, and a sense that the Hero's Journey has just begun.

In the end, this daring experiment has proven fruitful to the filmmakers and cast. It seems to have an appeal that is pan-Indian as it has reached Indians from all over the country, even members of the Indian diaspora scattered all over the world. This is a big deal in light of the fact that India is a large country of many provinces and many languages and cultures, often entrenched with their own film industries. What this film has done is it has given the Indian people something to be proud of as one of the world's oldest and largest cinematic cultures.

With DC's new film, (Wonder) Woman is the future of Man

It seems apt that the very first popularized superheroine in comics, Wonder Woman, be given a movie of her own. Superheroines in film haven't always been met with the warm reception that this film has been getting; films like Elektra, Catwoman and the reprehensible Supergirl (1984) have been critical and commercial failures. What Wonder Woman does right is it sticks to a tried and tested formula, it does it right and it does it really well.

Wonder Woman takes place in the backdrop of the first World War. Diana (Gal Gadot) is part of a tribe of warrior women separated from the rest of the world. When the realities of the war reach their isolated island, Diana goes to the frontlines to defeat the God of War, Ares, who she thinks is behind all of it.

The first half of the film, where Diana experiences a society completely unfamiliar to her, is quite clever. We often view superheroes as modern day gods; here, we see Diana as superhero and modern day god experiencing the folly of mortal men. She becomes this metaphorical magnifying glass that helps us see the absurdity of the society we have created, where rooms full of men (and only men) wage war and affect the lives of innocent men and women. To Diana (and the audience) the senselessness of it all shows itself in full force. 

The period where the movie takes place is also proves quite resonant, because it is during the interwar period that women gained the right to vote in countries like the UK and the US. People saw how women contributed to the ongoing war effort, and this started to shift popular thought. In this context, Diana's appearance coincides with this paradigm shift where women were no longer seen to be too weak or inconsequential to decide the fate of their country.

Diana is portrayed as an ideal (if a little naive) hero, poised and ready to help those in need and serve the better good. On the battlefield, she exudes power and courage, embodying the qualities of what we want our heroes to be. It's a far cry from the previous installments of the DC Cinematic Universe, composed of films filled with wacky antiheroes or brooding superpowered men who can't help but whine about how sad they are. The mere fact that this film doesn't pretend to be a dark, edgy deconstruction highly works in its favor, and I hope it sets a precedent for future films in the same universe.

Diana's naivete ties into one of the most interesting themes in the movie. Diana comes to know that war does not stem from a single cause; as her friend Steve Trevor points out (and I paraphrase), war is messy. She comes to learn the inherent nature of humanity, and her idealism is challenged by this notion. However, the ending of the film seems to undermine this theme, as it scapegoats the source of the conflict with a simpler explanation.

Wonder Woman is a fun movie. It goes back to the roots of what superhero movies can be, and it plays a few things a bit safe, but this is the film that DC and Warner Brothers need right now.

Belated May Reviews 2017 (2): Ang Araw sa Likod Mo, Colossal

Well, this was late.

Ang Araw Sa Likod mo takes us through two narratives: one involves a group of soldiers on the hunt for a notorious terrorist leader, the other involves two brothers trying to make sense of it all by either trying to leave or trying to join said terrorist group. It's reportedly based on true stories from our Scout Rangers. I've a few relatives who joined the Rangers and their training is tough, their job challenging. Like any job in the armed forces, their lives are perpetually at risk.

The movie does tackle a few interesting things. It immerses us into the war zone, where families are displaced thanks to constant strife. The relationship between the military and civilian population is also explored, showing us civilian attitudes towards the military and their role in the conflict.

I've heard that this is an advocacy film, but what is it exactly trying to advocate? Regarding the struggle down in Mindanao, the film frames it as milieu rather than a simple problem. It addresses radicalization among the civilian population, but it doesn't really show how or why these people become radicalized. The ending also leaves the brothers' story in a rather ambiguous place. Then again, that may be the point - that the struggle in Mindanao has become so entrenched that the reasons behind the conflict, and the why the conflict continues, collectively do not have a satisfyingly simple explanation. The conflict itself becomes the reason for radicalization in this regard. The film's complex treatment of its characters as shades of gray rather than mustache twirling bad guys works in its favor.

If we consider the story of the two brothers as a side story to the main plot, I'm guessing the film tries to humanize its soldier protagonists, portraying them as flesh and blood human beings with their own stories to tell. Here we come across a problem, as the film seems to be more interested in showing us the military operation taking place instead of developing its characters. Few of the soldiers are in any way memorable, and to be honest I could not remember any of their names just a few days after watching the film. I still remember Mabalasik-1 and Mabalasik-2, however.

And while it gives a lot of attention to military details on procedure, the film is crafted with some weird decisions. Soldier characters are seen ignoring trigger discipline. Some characters brandish rifles and point them at other people, but you can clearly see that the rifle isn't loaded with a magazine.* The film's title also refers to feeling the sun behind you during the morning prayer of Fajr; while in reality you should pray it before the sun comes up.

Ultimately the film does have some interesting things going for it, and in my own opinion it's not that bad a movie; however its noble aim is marred by strange storytelling decisions.

Proceeds from ticket sales go to the HERO foundation, which helps the families of soldiers that were killed or injured in the line of duty. It's definitely a good cause, and watching this film can help, though if you're not interested in the film, you can still help by donating directly to the charity and  give tribute to our men and women in uniform.


*granted, you can technically load a round into a chamber of an M-16/AR-15 one at a time without using a magazine, but it's IMO impractical in a combat situation like this.

Nacho Vigalondo's latest film, Colossal, is about Gloria, a woman who loves going on parties and getting wasted drunk. The constant hangovers and her erratic behavior drives her relationship with her boyfriend Tim to the breaking point, leading him to kick Gloria out of his apartment. Gloria moves back to her childhood home, intending to piece her life back together. Meanwhile, strange things begin to happen on the other side of the world as a giant monster starts attacking Seoul.

Colossal explores a lot of topics: there's the obvious story connection between giant monsters and one's own personal neuroses, where real flesh and blood monsters are scarier because they're part of the people walking among us. There are also allusions to the power people can wield over other people and the anatomy of the abuse that inevitably forms within this hierarchy.

The first half of the movie sees Gloria on a path towards rehabilitating herself. It's clear here that she's trying (and not always succeeding) to take control of her life. The second part, on the other hand, shifts completely to something else. It becomes less of a (slightly) romantic comedy and feels much closer to a thriller. I'm not exactly on board with the shift in tone, but I eventually liked what eventually came of it. The only real problem I had with this shift was that it gave me the impression that the movie was trying to cram in too many things into its structure, leaving a lot of things out (Gloria isn't held accountable for some of her actions, for example, and her alcohol abuse is mostly handwaved away during the second half of the film.)

While not perfect, Colossal is still an enjoyable film, which again brings a human perspective to the limitless possibilities of fantasy and science fiction.

Dear Other Self, or: for want of a nail, consequence was lost

Dear Other Self owes a lot to the 1998 film Sliding Doors, where the simple act of missing a train leads to two wildly diverging timelines. In this case, it's a bunch of noisy neighbors that cause protagonist Rebecca (Jodi Sta. Maria) to either lose sleep or sleep soundly. The sequence of events that follow lead to her either staying at her job or leaving her job to pursue her dreams of traveling the world.

The premise sounds interesting on paper, but ultimately Dear Other Self disappointed me. Neither of the two timelines made an impact on me, and to be honest they could be interchangeable. There is no real consequence to Rebecca's actions; and any sort of dramatic tension is handwaved away for the sake of a convenient ending. These sorts of movies thrive with experimentation; the fact that the movie mostly played it safe ultimately doomed the whole enterprise. The movie has the opportunity to show us how fate can be capricious, such as how Sliding Doors ended, or (to take it to extremes) how this divergence can affect our entire worldview and political standing, such as in Kieslowski's 1988 film Blind Chance. But it doesn't really do that; I felt that the film didn't take any risks, and removed the consequence of that choice. Without consequence, the stories of Dear Other Self aren't really that compelling.

On the other hand, the film tries to explore the dichotomy of either living for one's self or for family. Rebecca experiences both alternatives through both timelines. While the absence of consequence again makes the eventual outcomes of both stories pretty much irrelevant, the film posits some interesting questions. Rebecca's travel is done mostly at her own expense, but as the breadwinner it may come off as selfish, especially within the context of Filipino culture and ideas of filial devotion. On the other hand, being the breadwinner in the first place can be seen as unfair to Rebecca, who is unable to reach her own dreams. To its credit, the film has a number of solutions to this problem in surprising ways.

In closing, I feel I've been too hard on the film, perhaps due to expectations that were too high. While it does have a number of interesting ideas, the film's subservience to convention ultimately makes it an inferior movie. And while it may be a step in the right direction, during this movie, sometimes I wished I was in a parallel universe, watching a movie that had a little bit more ambition behind its promising ideas.

[Reflexive Cinema] Pinoy Blonde: still 'swabe at mabango' 12 years later

As part of a year long centennial celebration of Filipino film, the Society of Filipino Archivists of Film (SOFIA) in partnership with the CCP, will be showing several films about filmmaking with its "Reflexive Cinema" series. The first film on the lineup is Peque Gallaga's 2005 film Pinoy Blonde, and yesterday I decided to attend and take a look again at the film. So today, I'll be giving a short re-review of the film and telling you all about a few things that have changed since then.

This film holds a very special meaning to me and this blog, because it is the very first Filipino film I ever reviewed on Present Confusion. Looking back, 2005 was a really interesting year for Philippine Cinema: output was down in the doldrums (around 30-40 movies a year) and even commercial blockbusters were feeling the sting. The sexy 'bomba' films of the late nineties/early 00's were winding down too. The movie theaters were then dominated by Hollywood blockbusters and Asian Horror.

At the same time, we were slowly seeing interesting local films coming out: these were smaller scale dramas or comedies that tended to eschew normalized conceptions of what local cinema had become. The one film I distinctly remember from this time was Mark Meily's Crying Ladies, which was a hit with audiences during the 2003 MMFF. When Pinoy Blonde came out, we were still months away from the first edition of Cinemalaya, which showcased Filipino independent films to audiences in a major way. (Sure, programs like Gawad Alternatibo had been on the scene for far longer, but it had not really received much mainstream attention, if at all.) Also later in 2005, Cinemanila would be showing foreign art films and local independent films in ALL Manila cinemas. Filmmakers like Khavn and Ato Bautista were either releasing or making their own films such as Ang Pamilyang Kumakain ng Lupa or Ang Aking Pagkagising mula sa Kamulatan. Other films coming out later would include the Villaluna/Ramos directed Ilusyon and a film called Masahista, the debut feature from a relative unknown named Brillante Mendoza.

Twelve years ago, I was your average student-type person. I was obsessed with films from neighboring countries in Asia, but I had a limited knowledge of films from my own country. My filmic education was mainly through watching movies via VHS rentals and Sine sa Dos, and hearing stories from my mother about films from the Marcos era such as Kapit sa Patalim, Himala, and so on. When I started this blog, I honestly wasn't sure where it would go (the blog wasn't even  exclusively about film at the time.)  Twelve years later, and I'm a professional (more or less), I've accumulated a good deal of knowledge about local cinema (but still severely lacking, to be honest) and my writing style has changed (though it's still not very good, in my opinion.)

So while you couldn't exactly say Pinoy Blonde caused any of what was to come, and you couldn't really place it as the fulcrum of contemporary local cinema, it's placed in a rather interesting position, in the middle of a paradigm shift from old 90'/00's aesthetics to what we have today.

Looking at the film (and my review of it) today, the film has aged surprisingly well. It's no longer as 'unconventional' as I thought it was back then, and it still has its share of flaws, but it was overall just as entertaining as it was when I saw it in theaters for the first time. It's an odd yet interesting combination of homage, comedy, and 3D and 2D animation. It's also an examination of the collaborative and creative processes that take place when one makes a film.

We see this quite clearly with the imagination sequences that happen frequently with the two protagonist filmmaker characters. They often look at certain things as frames in an imaginary movie. Though they have aesthetic differences, they share a love of cinema that is undeniable. In the post-screening Q&A, Peque Gallaga conceded that the two characters could serve as reflections of himself and longtime directing partner Lore Reyes. Their exchange of ideas is a process that filmmakers go through all the time. Epi's later encounter with Ricky Davao's character, an intelligent hitman with his own opinions on cinema, helps him realize the true meaning of this very process and the process of creating flesh and blood characters that elicit true emotions rather than just creating caricatures that spout cliched lines.

The tributes really come out in full force. I remember the stylized parody of our films as seen through the archives of international film festivals past. In my first review, I make the point that it's ironic that many of our old films are being discovered in foreign lands - while in our country, the same classic films are lost, used as filler for fireworks, or consigned to some other horrible fate. Since then, a dedicated effort has come up to preserve and find classic films and restore them to crisp, high resolution quality.

A rare few other references are now a bit dated. Most of the scenes referenced in dialogue refer to Hollywood blockbusters from the early 2000s. While some have gone on to be classics in their own right, I don't think many people will find, say, The Scorpion King memorable. In retrospect, some of the other parodies are funny or ironic in retrospect, such as the character of Salonpas being a parody of Alfredo Lim (who would eventually become Mayor of Manila again two years after the film's release.) It's also interesting to rewatch the film and see references in how certain scenes were shot, mostly from action films from that particular time, such as Reservoir Dogs or Kill Bill. The pacing of the film was fine for me this time (strange how I felt Hong Sang-soo was slow paced back then - I clearly hadn't seen enough slow cinema at the time!) 

Ultimately, to be honest, my opinions on the film haven't changed. I guess in some cases, the more things change, the more things remain the same. So I end this with my ending paragraph from my 2005 review, which I still believe today:

"In closing, Pinoy Blonde is far from a masterpiece - yet among recent Filipino releases, it ends up as a mishmashed, intelligent, quirky little film, probably one of the best of the year, so far. It ultimately feels like Peque Gallaga's love song for Philippine Cinema, one that treats its subject matter in the Filipino way - that of hallowed reverence with a little bit of that trademark Filipino humor sprinkled in. Watch it. You may come out of it with something you never expected."

The Reflexive Cinema series runs every second Saturday of the month, except for August and January 2018. Stay tuned for more articles on the subject.

Kuroko's Basketball: The Last Game is filled with shounen sports action and Lewis Carroll (no, really)

Kuroko's Basketball (Kuroko no Basket) is a relatively popular sports anime and manga series. It's about the unlikely pairing of brash and headstrong Taiga Kagami and unassuming Tetsuya Kuroko. As it turns out, Kuroko was a member of the Generation of Miracles, a legendary team of basketball players that dominated Japan. Kagami and Kuroko set out to defeat all of the members of the Generation of Miracles, who are now all in separate high school teams.

Kuroko's Basketball: The Last Game takes place after the events of the main series. It's based on a manga story, Kuroko no Basket Extra Game, that serves as a sidestory/epilogue to the entire series. After the events of the main series, a genius streetball team called Jabberwock comes to Japan and humiliates an all-star college team made up of former allies of Kuroko and the others. For revenge (and national pride), a rematch is set between Jabberwock and the combined forces of Kagami and the entire Generation of Miracles team (collectively called Vorpal Swords) to settle who is the best in basketball.

It should be pretty evident that maximum appreciation of this film depends hugely on being familiar with the series it is based on. Otherwise, most of the movie will not make any sense. Non-fans of Kuroko's Basketball may ask themselves: who's the young lady with the baseball cap? (she's the coach/manager of Kuroko and Kagami's HS team.) Who's the girl with the pink hair? (She's the coach/manager of Aomine's HS team, and coach of the original Generation of Miracles.) Who's the blonde chick who speaks English? (she's Kagami's friend and mentor from the US.) Who're the random people cheering Vorpal Swords during the matchup? (they're former enemies, teammates and friends of the Vorpal Swords members.) Who is that other person Akashi is talking to? (It's kinda like a split personality. Long story.)

Jabberwocky is pretty one-dimensional as far as villainous teams go. The manga has a couple of backstories for these characters, but for the purposes of watching the film, the enemy team is more or less composed of a bunch of cartoonishly evil, kinda racist caricatures. The only thing the audience should know is that they may be stronger than our protagonists, and they have to be defeated. They aren't really interesting or compelling villains.

That said, that probably isn't why many Kuroko fans will watch the film. As a fan myself, the real reason I wanted to watch the film was to see the Generation of Miracles + Kagami as a team, in action. Non-fans would not understand, but to a fan this is pretty big. To a fan, the film is ninety-ish minutes of fanservicey joy. Every time one of the Vorpal Swords members did their signature moves, there were claps of excitement in the theater. It's all lovingly animated by Production I.G. who have worked on many gorgeous anime in the past (Ghost in the Shell, Evangelion among others).

The film ends the series with a sense of finality (be sure to catch an after-credits scene at the end.) To the uninitiated viewer, Kuroko's Basketball: Last Game is an incoherent mess. But to the intended audience of the movie, it's a fond farewell to a fun and entertaining anime/manga franchise.

Reviews May 2017: Our Mighty Yaya, One Step, more thoughts on A Silent Voice

(My initial review is here.)

Note: may contain some spoilers. Skip to the next review if you do not want to get spoiled.

A Silent Voice is now showing here in the Philippines and I watched it again recently. Long story short, it's great, and it seems to be doing well in cinemas from what I can tell. (Unscientific data, but I asked a lot of ticket sellers.)

I'm reminded of something the Observer film critic Mark Kermode said when he watched the film. Kermode's one of the few critics who watches anime films whenever they come out and doesn't prejudge them just because they're anime. Anyway, in his review, he notes how the film is shot from Ishida's point of view; most of the time he looks down on the ground and we see a sea of legs, hands, bodies and pavements - consequences of his guilt and self loathing. Ishida (and the film, by extension) cannot properly look anyone in the face. During the end, Ishida (and we, the viewer) look at the characters we have befriended along the way in the face, when Ishida finally decides to come out of his shell.

Like I said in my earlier review, the characters of A Silent Voice are shaped by their guilt in one way or another; these are character traits that are emphasized more thoroughly in the manga. Their guilt hampers their ability to communicate with each other, more than any state of deafness could. A Silent Voice may be filled with imperfect characters, but the film teaches us to appreciate them, warts and all.

Watching this film is worth it, guys. That makes two films you need to watch this week (the other one being Bliss.)

Due to financial challenges, Virgie (Ai Ai Delas Alas) decides to work under a well to do family. While at first she has trouble with the two kids and one teen under her care, they get along and she becomes attached to them. This, however, leads her into conflict with stepmom Monique (Megan Young) who is also trying to get along with her new husband's kids.

Films about house help, especially films about the plight of the yaya or nanny, are nothing new in local cinema. These films are mostly done using a dramatic approach. For example, in Rory Quintos' Anak (2000) the film focuses on the effect on the family the nanny leaves behind; in the 2006 film Inang Yaya, Maricel Soriano's nanny character is forced to balance her love for her ward and the love of her real child, and in Jose Javier Reyes' own Ano Ang Kulay ng Mga Nakalimutang Pangarap? the dramatic focus is placed on the dreams that are sacrificed by these people in the name of serving their amo and the inherent tragedy in these relationships rooted deeply in our social hierarchies.

Our Mighty Yaya takes the opposite approach, and deals with the subject matter as a mainstream comedy. Some of the jokes don't land, but those that do, do so because of Delas Alas' comedic timing. Thankfully, she doesn't use her buckteeth or ugliness as a point in her comedy, something that would have demeaned her character even more.

The film tries to create some dramatic tension between Virgie and Monique, but the payoff is pretty perfunctory. This is a film that has decided to play it safe and go through the motions instead of showing something meaningful in its dramatic moments. Perhaps you can argue that in this context, meaningful commentary is the last thing one should be looking for, but the results from being complacent often result in a shallower overall experience. To be fair, I did enjoy parts of this film, and yes, it might serve as a decent crowd pleaser for the usual moviegoer, but you've probably seen everything Our Mighty Yaya has to offer somewhere else.

(note: this review contains a few spoilers.)

One Step bases its premise on the 2013 romantic comedy Begin Again, where a young woman befriends a music producer so that they can make beautiful music together. In the case of One Step, however, Si-Hyun (Sandara Park) suffers from amnesia and a form of synesthesia where she can "see" music; she collaborates with music producer Jee-Il (Cho Dong-in, complete with Cumber-lock hair) in the hopes of regaining her lost memory.

It's a treat seeing pambansang krung krung Sandara Park in a Korean movie, and she really gives her all to the role of Si Hyun. That said, while competently acted for the most part, One Step struggles to keep its story together. The movie plays with several plot points but doesn't really go anywhere with them: even the main mystery of the film - Si-Hyun's search for her lost memories - fades into the background as the film enters its last act. In the end, barely anything gets resolved at all, which can prove a bit frustrating for people invested in these characters. Then again, it's always been more about the journey rather than the destination for most of these films, so your own personal mileage may vary.

The film's major highlight is the soundtrack, featuring many songs from Sandara Park and other artists. They range from colorful and relatively light K-pop to some rock-based tunes. Fans of Park  may find something to appreciate here, though the tunes here are closer in tone to the songs of her solo career instead of her stint with girl group 2NE1.

While the film reaches considerable levels of schmaltz and hokeyness, I found it overall pretty entertaining. One Step struggles to keep its plot together, but its negatives are balanced by a nice soundtrack and decent performances all around.

Jerrold Tarog's Bliss is a subversive trip down the rabbit hole of entertainment culture

Popular actress Jane (Iza Calzado) is left to recuperate in a rest house after an on-set accident while filming her latest movie. She is soon tormented by strange occurrences within her house and feels trapped somehow. But what is really happening?

Bliss is best described as a psychological thriller, but the film itself defies convenient classification. It traces its lineage back to films that traverse the line of reality and fiction, as protagonists view their own dark reflections (usually through the performing arts.) I felt echoes of Satoshi Kon's Perfect Blue (1997) and Millennium Actress, Rob Reiner's Misery (1990; the title of Bliss even references this film) and Aronofsky's Black Swan (2010) among others. But it is Ingmar Bergman's Persona (1966) that resonates with this film the most: in Bergman's film, a nurse takes care of an actress who has decided to stop speaking; through their interactions and stories their personas merge and mix into something amorphous and abstract. Persona acts as a template for this film, though Bliss does something interesting with its premise that makes it more than just a copy.

While we are shown the stories of the different people involved in Jane's life, the film centers around the stories of Jane and Rose (Adrienne Vergara). Rose's character is a dark mirror of Jane's, a nurse with a twisted, perverse streak. Her screen image is off-putting, even grotesque, with streaks of Annie Wilkes and Perfect Blue's Rumi. Her existence and that of Jane's mirror Alma and Elisabet Vogler in Bergman's film. In this case, both Jane and Rose are characters eaten by the monstrous system of showbusiness, withered into insanity, husks of their former selves.

This portrayal of the true monster behind the film - that of our local entertainment culture - is something that is rare in our local cinema. Our entertainment culture has been examined before as satire, but rarely, if at all, through the lens of a psychological thriller. Perhaps it is more than a coincidence that this film was conceptualized during the period where some prominent local directors died, directly or indirectly through overwork. In the films of other countries, the lure of showbusiness proves to be self destructive; films like Mika Ninagawa's Helter Skelter (2012) even manifests this self-destruction in the form of actual bodily damage, her protagonists slowly disintegrating from the inside. Here, the exploitation of Jane takes on two forms: her deteriorating mental state and her body, which has been exploited physically (as seen in her various injuries) and in other, perverse ways.

Perhaps to serve local audiences, Bliss holds our hand through its enigma; one can easily figure out what's going on with Jane in the first 10 minutes if one pays enough attention. Like with most of Tarog's films, we see the inherent irony of the film's ending - while people supposedly 'concerned' with the well being of Jane bicker with each other, darker things happen out of sight.

While not my favorite Jerrold Tarog film, Bliss is an interesting experiment, a perverse subversion of genre and structure, and a film that will keep local audiences talking for years to come.

Luck at First Sight doubles down on its concept, with mixed results

Joma (Jericho Rosales) is a professional gambler who believes in luck. Diane (Bela Padilla), on the other hand, doesn't really believe in it. By some quirk of supernatural fate, they produce abnormally good luck whenever they touch each other, and Joma proposes to use this to their mutual advantage, as they both need the money. There is a catch, though: if either one falls in love with the other, the luck disappears.

Luck at First Sight takes this admittedly silly premise and just runs with it. The movie requires a significant suspension of disbelief. Soon, the duo are making decent coin betting on small time gambling enterprises and illegal casinos. Perhaps betting on larger casinos or on the lottery/sweepstakes would make them more money faster, but plot needs to happen.

So we have this strange milieu where two characters bond together through gambling. There's a certain kind of logic in that, considering that there's an adrenaline rush that comes whenever one bets big and wins big. For one, it's certainly a unique concept.

It soon becomes clear that Joma has a gambling problem, especially with regards to self restraint. He's racked up a ton of debts and he keeps on losing money because he doesn't know when to quit. Rosales' performance is actually my favorite thing about the movie: he subverts the trope of a charming, handsome love interest with a winning smile when he uses that same charm to try to extort just a few more pesos from Bela Padilla's character during the film's major dramatic turn. His expression mixes just the right amount of desperation and faux charm that he really pulls it off.

The movie could have gone to interesting places with this, but it unfortunately opts for the safe route, and it does so by doubling down on its concept. Its main dilemma, created by a gambling problem, is solved by EVEN MORE gambling (and even then, it becomes an unnecessary non-solution). It has the unfortunate effect of downplaying Joma's problem with gambling. The end effect feels rushed when the conversation at the end of the movie neatly tucks away any hanging plot threads. It feels too clean, too neat for a narrative like this. And, the ending backtracks from the premise of the story, implying that luck really doesn't matter after all.

While I don't think Luck at First Sight is bad, it takes a couple of weird turns and the final product suffers as a result.