A Date with Jao Mapa (1999)

Minggu, 29 Januari 2012

A Date with Jao Mapa (1999)

A Date with Jao Mapa (Quark Henares, 1999)

If one is to examine the characters Quark Henares has written in his films, one can readily see their strong affinity to Filipino pop culture. Keka, the vengeful heroine of Keka (2003), imagines a world unlike hers that follows the rules of 80’s cinema, where dilemmas end as soon as a musical number concludes in a fantastic freeze frame. The teenage superheroes of Super Noypi (2006) engage in banter about present music fads whenever they are not saving the world and fashion themselves as the more economically challenged counterparts of their comic book idols. In Rakenrol (2011), Odie, consumed by heartache, is salvaged by a dues ex machina in the form of rock legend Ely Buendia who happens to pass by the convenience store where he is busy sulking. Henares’ characters live in a world where pop culture isn’t a mere diversion but a way of life.

Alexa Lindo, from Henares’ early short film A Date with Jao Mapa, is perhaps the prototype of this Henares character. Normal-looking but apparently stricken with an obsession for popular matinee idol turned legendary has-been Jao Mapa, Alexa has deviously planned for herself a date with Mapa, who in the film happens to be an easy-to-get and sex-crazed jerk. The film primarily explores Alexa’s indefatigable fanaticism through what seems to be a not-so-personal video diary where Alexa, speaking directly to the camera, reveals the extent of his insanity.

She belittles the efforts of ordinary fans, declaring her interest for Jao Mapa as “more profound.” The profundity of her adoration is expressed via her stalking the former actor at work, which inevitably leads to him bumping into her, date proposals being offered, a dinner date in an expensive restaurant where what’s spoken is not exactly what’s thought, and an all-nighter that is not as romantic or erotic as what’s expected.

A Date with Jao Mapa has all the faults and all the charms of a student film. Shot in a typical consumer level video camera, the short is not exactly beautiful to look at. There are efforts to make the film look more than just a university project, such as when the camera slowly zooms to show Alexa’s patient face as she waits for Jao Mapa in the restaurant while the rest of the room are idly doing their own business, or when during the film’s climax, clever camera angles manage to add some suspense in the quick surprise. Editing’s functional. Dialogues are too self-aware, too self-consciously witty. Clearly, the film was made with as little money as possible.

The capital spent was mostly composed of wile and creativity, and perhaps, Henares’ very own obsession over the quirks that made Filipino pop culture Filipino. Unlike Henares’ later films which are all plagued by budgetary constraints, studio influence, the burden of expectations for him to be great, or the baggage of being already too involved in the pop culture he delights in, A Date with Jao Mapa is pure and concretely a product of unadulterated ingenuity. One can easily forgive the amateurish qualities of the video because the short has an energy that is still unmatched by any of Henares’ better-produced features.

Henares’ casting of Marie-France Arcilla, or more popularly known as Marnie of the very popular gag show Ang TV, as Alexa is an acknowledgement of his fascination for resurrecting his childhood heroes. Apart from seeing Jao Mapa not as a swoon-worthy leading man but as a man whose glorified past is but a lingering shadow used to bed women, there is a certain excitement seeing Marnie all grown up, acting sophisticated and sexy like some femme fatale from an obscure noir. Perhaps, this is Henares’ self-therapy to absolutely cure him of being swept away by the film and television-fed fantasies of his childhood.

Perhaps the anger that dominates the film’s finale is due to his frustration in seeing and eventually accepting those fantasies that are the cornerstones of the happiness of his growing up dissipate into the very boring reality that all adults have to face and be content with. Rather than making out and making love with just dull fragments of those wondrous icons of the past and quietly accepting them as disappointingly ordinary, he’d rather just kill them, and preserve their greatness as intact and untainted memories.

(Cross-published in Lagarista.)

Rosetta (1999)

Kamis, 07 Juni 2007

Rosetta (1999)

Rosetta (Jean-Pierre & Luc Dardenne, 1999)

Midway through the film, Rosetta (Émilie Dequenne) recites a personal prayer before heading to bed. Previous to that, she was befriended by a waffle stand salesperson (Fabrizio Rongione) who takes her in into his apartment; feeding her French waffles; allowing her to listen to his amateur drum recordings; and teaches her (although quite unsuccessfully) to dance. It is that state of normalcy that Rosetta has longed for --- to live in an urban flat, instead of the trailer camp where she and her mother resides in; to have a normal relationship with a concerned friend, instead of keeping every bit of concern alone; to have a stable job, instead of spending days getting fired and subsequently looking for employment in vain. Her prayer is like a routinary mantra that keeps her surviving through the inequality of society, but like most prayers or mottos, fails to materialize.

The following day, Rosetta is replaced in her work by her employer's lazy son. Her life falls once again in that perpetual limbo of uncertainty; and the only thing stable are the little peculiarities that surround her everyday life. Her daily breakfast of waffles and tap water, her shortcuts through the forest that surrounds her trailer camp, her daily means of catching fishes through a home-made fish trap, her eternal suffering because of stomach cramps made bearable by home-made cures of a pill and a glass of water and the sound and vibrations of a hair dryer --- these are the things that characterize Rosetta aside from the fact that she's in a continuous state of rage and discontent.

Rosetta is the second film made by the Dardenne Brothers and their first film to win the much-coveted Golden Palm in the 1999 Cannes Film Festival. It is uncompromising and bleak. The camera mostly focuses on the face of the titular character; concentrating the viewers' attention to the nuances of Dequenne's performance. From the first scene when we see her storming along the hallway to the factory where she confronts a co-worker and her boss on her being fired, we immediately sense desperation and fear. It certainly feels that employment for Rosetta is her state of normalcy, her proof of humanity. Without it, she is drowned with her mundane yet unique routines and her larger-than-life domestic problems, including taking care of her alcoholic mom who succumbs to whoring herself for a few bottles of alcohol.

The pervading atmosphere of desperation and futility overcomes the entire film, that the moments wherein Rosetta allows herself a momentary feeling of glee, sadness, or any other emotion other than anger feels rather awkward. It is that misogynistic quality of the Dardenne Brothers' film which I dislike. It is that quality that purposely limits the titular character to situations of suffering and cutthroat moral choices that strips any sense of lingering humanity to the film, and thus gives the final product an unlikable aftertaste despite its redeeming social commentaries on unemployment and inequality. We only see Rosetta as an unwavering force of negative energy, irreversible yet depletable; never as a human being with valid needs and a bevy of emotions.

Imprisoned by poverty, Rosetta's fate seems trapped in her earthbound hell. The Dardenne Brothers play their cruellest trick on their heroine by preventing her from escaping that prison through the easiest way out. The final few minutes of the film seemed taken out of a magician's hat; wherein the desperation that pervades and fluctuates undramatically is concluded by a final act of futility, only to be stopped by their own poverty (the gas tank becomes empty before completely suffocating her and her mother). She purchases a new gas tank from the camp caretaker and carries it off to her trailer. Her former friend, consumed by anger because of her treachery, makes her task even more difficult by covering her path with his motorcycle. She gives up, falls on her knees and cries, with the final scene showing her former friend picking her up from that defeated stance.

The question arises as to the directors' motives. They create a character who has fallen from grace because of her poverty and her family's state in life, only to experiment with her or toy with her by enlarging her burden. That final scene where Rosetta finally cries and whimpers concludes the experiment, pleasing the directors curiosity as to the limits of Rosetta's conditions --- when will she succumb to the fact that even death has given up on her, when can we truly say that she's fallen and needs a helping hand to rise again? That also concludes my appreciation for the film as that moment has assured me that the Dardennes Brothers have inflicted on me an imaginary concern for their experimentation, rather than genuine pathos for a human individual.

Wonderland (1999)

Rabu, 04 April 2007

Wonderland (1999)

Wonderland (Michael Winterbottom, 1999)

Wonderland is a lovely film, probably director Michael Winterbottom's best film to date. It's like looking at a well-kept salt water aquarium, where the individual fishes are all very interesting to look at; their interactions among themselves, with other species, and their environment, transport you into a hypnotic state of static observation. The aquarium is modern London; the different kinds of fishes are the citizens of different races and denominations; the rocks, corals and plastic structures are the tenements, the bars, the restaurants.

When viewing the artifacts swimming inside an aquarium, you tend to quietly observe a favorite subject --- probably a family of fishes doing something uniquely engrossing. Yet at times your eyes would follow another fish, but then quickly get back to your original subjects. Winterbottom treats his characters the same way; his subjects, a London family and their closely connected acquaintances, are painted with pathos, yet most of the time, his camera (under the direction of cinematographer Sean Bobbitt) would stop to peer at the faces of other citizens (the expectant date, the immigrant beggars, the ravenous football fans, the onlookers of the fireworks display). It's a worthwhile endeavor. Winterbottom seems to be saying that his characters aren't living inside a bubble; that they are connected in that intricate emotional and social web of other middle and lower class Londoners; that all these other faces Winterbottom lovingly gives time to have their own stories to tell, probably even graver than his subjects.

Winterbottom tells their stories with poignant accuracy. The film is set on a specific long weekend (Thursday to Monday morning) wherein a host of events coincidentally happens. He starts everything off with a botched blind date. Nadia (Gina McKee) cleverly eases her way from an uninteresting date. She eventually ends her Thursday night with a dozen replies from her message to a dating service; fervently hoping to hook up with that perfect date. Nadia's two sisters are Debbie (Shirley Henderson) and Molly (Molly Parker). Debbie is a beautician who singlehandedly takes care of his pre-teen son as the father (Ian Hart) is completely immature. Molly is very pregnant with her first child with husband (John Simm), who suddenly feels an unbearable anxiety with the coming of another mouth to feed.

By the morning of Friday, we get a sense of these characters' problems; Winterbottom further deepens their histories, their pains, and their longings. It's an investment that we're willing to make. We learn of these sisters' parents (Jack Shepherd and Kika Markham), an aging couple whose married life is being snatched away by daily bingo games, sleepless dogbark-filled nights, and flirtatious drunken dances with a next-door neighbor. There are sideplots (involving the lonesome son of the next-door neighbor and a couple on a romantic getaway) that will only eventually find meaning and satisfactory connections by the film's end.

Winterbottom keeps you drawn. He infrequently injects certain scenes with the music of Michael Nyman, usually during the night wherein Bobbitt's grainy cinematography are most intense, and stylized with fast-forwards, slow-motions that enunciate internal happiness or sorrow. While the film has an overall feel of depressing realism, it is balanced with the normal and natural joys of life --- childbirth, infatuation, motherhood, a long-awaited reunion. It's a balancing act that respects the depth and possibilities of reality; there are no ill-conceived literary connectors as mostly used by Iñárritu or fellow wannabes. The film offers a satisfying look at London life; and in that aquarium Winterbottom builds for us, there are no plastic-made beautiful mermaids, lavish windmills and castles. Just reality, hard-hitting, difficult to digest, but ultimately redemptive and worth it.