Minsan Pa (2004)

Minggu, 27 November 2011

Minsan Pa (2004)

Minsan Pa (Jeffrey Jeturian, 2004)

English Title: One Moment More

The film Sana Pag-ibig Na (Enter Love, 1998), one of the several films made under Regal Films subsidiary Good Harvest, gave birth to the collaboration between Armando Lao and Jeffrey Jeturian. Before Sana Pag-ibig Na, Lao was then the very much underrated screenwriter of arguably William Pascual and Chito Rono’s best works, Takaw Tukso (1986) and Itanong mo sa Buwan (1988) respectively. Jeturian, on the other hand, served as production designer and art director for Leroy Salvador’s Dear Killer, one of the two episodes in Dear Diary (1989) that was written by Lao (the other being Dear Partyline, directed by Lupita Aquina-Kashiwahara and written by Jose Javier Reyes) and various other films and television shows. After Sana Pag-ibig Na, Lao and Jeturian would collaborate in Pila Balde (Fetch a Pail of Water, 1999) and Tuhog (Larger than Life, 2001), both of which are also critically acclaimed films.

Minsan Pa, Lao and Jeturian’s fourth film together, is more ambitious in scope. Their previous collaborations were clearly smaller. Sana Pag-ibig Na is a family drama set within a middle-class household. Pila Balde is a set in an impoverished community that envelopes a condominium complex and explores the complicated relationship between the haves and the have-nots. Tuhog is a more conceptual affair that pits real reality and movie reality, revealing a cycle of exploitation within a primarily escapist pastime. Minsan Pa is essentially a romance between a Cebu tour guide (Jomari Yllana) and a tourist (Ara Mina). However, more than just unravelling an ordinary love story, Lao and Jeturian set out to unravel not only the lives of the lovers but also the people around them.

The film often drifts away from the central romance, depicting tender episodes of other people’s lives, like the fisherman’s daughter who marries a Japanese tourist, leaving his childhood sweetheart heartbroken in the process, or the performers in a Japanese videographers’ anonymous shoot who become beholden to erstwhile passions and the need to survive. These side stories, told admirably without a sliver of judgment as to actions of these people and how these people lead their lives, contribute to an overall picture of lives existing amidst the lack of permanence.

People come and go, leaving unresolved relationships, obligations, promises and expectations. They strive for constancy, perhaps through by building a permanent home, by finding that one person for whom they can eternally be in love with, by seeking to reunite a family that has become broken by change. The characters Lao crafted and Jeturian fleshed out live lives adjusted to the fleetingness of the world. The only thing constant is heartbreak and disappointment, as when the promise of becoming settled both in life and in love are suddenly snatched not by a stereotypical antagonist but by the very nature of life.

Minsan Pa may be Lao’s masterwork, a piece so lovingly crafted, with characters that feel like they are living and experiencing life’s difficulties with us. There is very little sense of the writer interfering with how the narrative should flow and instead, the story slowly but surely manages to complete itself without succumbing to formula. Jeturian’s job becomes limited to creating the proper mood and atmosphere to finalize the picture. Backdropped by Cebu’s gorgeous sights and vistas, Jeturian expresses the irony of characters appearing and disappearing, completely engulfed by constantly changing emotions, in places that have been there for centuries or even more.

Minsan Pa is the film is fondly remembered as an underseen gem, the film where Ara Mina and Jomari Yllana gave the performances of their careers, the unlikely Filipino romance that did not need to rely on histrionics or cheap thrills to impress. Minsan Pa, however, has an actual place in the history of Philippine cinema. The film barely made enough to recoup the investment put into its production, prompting Lao to rethink the way Filipino films are written and made. Because of the film’s box office failure, Lao would come up with a system of writing films that are apt for Filipino film producers who may not have the capital to gamble into worthwhile but expensive projects that will never be consumed by the ordinary moviegoer.

Because of Minsan Pa, Kubrador (The Bet Collector, 2006), a film written in the manner Lao believes Filipino films should be written, happened. Kubrador won for Jeturian several international accolades and earned for the film’s producer, Joji Alonzo, enough money for her to continue making films despite the economic disaster that was Minsan Pa. Brillante Mendoza then made Masahista (The Masseur, 2005), then Tirador (Slingshot, 2007), then Serbis (Service, 2008) and Kinatay (The Execution of P, 2009). Young filmmakers followed suit, creating a school of filmmaking that positively or negatively changed the landscape of how films are written and made in the country. Who would have thought that Minsan Pa, a glossy film starring famous actors and actresses about heartaches, would stir such a change, opening the Pandora’s box of stories that require absolutely no gloss, no big names, and tackling issues that are closer to the stomach than the heart.

(Cross-published in Lagarista)

Milan (2004)

Jumat, 12 September 2008

Milan (2004)

Milan (Olivia Lamasan, 2004)

In Sana Maulit Muli (Hopefully, Once More, 1995), director Olivia Lamasan tells the love story of Jerry (Aga Muhlach) and Agnes (Lea Salonga), whose romance was suddenly suspended by the latter's migration to California. Years later, Jerry follows Agnes to California and discovers that the latter has changed from a sweet and subservient girl to an independent career woman. In trying to woo back Agnes, Jerry abandons his promising career as an ad executive back home to become a blue collar worker and in so doing, exposes the hardships, the realities and the very common injustices of working abroad. Alas, the movie ends in a conventional note, with the two lovebirds reuniting in a busy street in Manila. Sana Maulit Muli, which momentarily captured my imagination with its portrayal of the American dream as both restrictive yet liberating, disintegrates into formulaic tedium, where man, with all his incurable weaknesses and insecurities, still gets the woman in the end, simply because that's how mainstream cinematic romances ordinarily conclude.

Years later, Lamasan, once again, sets a love story in a distant land. Milan details the attempt of Lino (Piolo Pascual) to look for Mary Grace (Iza Calzado), his missing wife who a mere week after their wedding, left the Philippines to work in Milan and since then, has not communicated with him. He deviates from his mission when he meets Jenny (Claudine Barretto), a shrewd and street-smart Filipina who has been living and working in Milan and has decided to help Lino look for his wife. Lino and Jenny become romantically entangled, as the former finds a job and finally, a direction to his once unguided life.

This time, Lamasan expands his canvass, determined to infuse the syrupy romance with authentic stories of these Filipino citizens working in Milan through the several real interviews with them that are interspersed throughout the narrative. Although the procedure is jarring, primitive and inordinate, with the sudden transition from glossy studio cinematography to documentary footage might strain the eye and not to mention the even more sudden retraction of cinematic fantasy of screenwriters' Lamasan and Raymond Lee's romantic fairy tale to the harsher and more moving portraits of real Filipinos in Milan is somewhat uncoordinated, the inclusion of these interviews give the film a more poignant feel.

As for the film itself, it's certainly nothing extraordinary. The acting suffices most of the time, with its two leads (Pascual and Barretto) complementing the picturesque scenery (shot by cinematographer Shayne Clemente like a travelogue, with the gondolas of Venice, the vineyards of the Italian countryside, and other famous tourist places framed into the drama without a hint of subtlety) with their manufactured good looks, charm and acting style. Calzado gives a quietly affecting performance as Lino's emotionally tortured wife whose life has deteriorated into total disarray.

Lamasan has improved. From the unabashed sentimentality and unsuited reliance on formulaic filmmaking of Sana Maulit Muli, she has at least taken some risks: of mixing romance with documentary filmmaking, of unmasking Milan of some of its majestic sheen by negating its illustrious reputation with real and fictional (the heartbreaking trials of Lino's wife; the pregnancy of Vangie (Ilonah Jean) with her co-boarder despite having their respective families in the Philippines; the horrifying border-crossing hike) horror stories of the Filipino workers. Milan ends with a kiss, as with most other mainstream romances that equate jovial affairs of the heart with momentary escapism from the real world's more pressing woes. I'll be more forgiving this time since Lamasan, at least, gave that penultimate kiss a bit of a bittersweet flavor. The disarming weight of those overseas workers' struggles and plights has been temporarily lifted during that postcard-worthy moment of barefaced fantastic hallucination.

Sigaw (2004)

Jumat, 02 November 2007

Sigaw (2004)

Sigaw (Yam Laranas, 2004)
English Title: The Echo

Yam Laranas' Sigaw was released during the yearly Metro Manila Film Festival, a two week-long affair wherein all of the country's big studios release their big-budgeted features. The festival that year had a very poor line-up (the three best pictures that year were Joel Lamangan's Mano Po 3: My Love, a tiring continuation of the pint-sized tales of Filipino-Chinese romantics, Cesar Montano's Panaghoy sa Suba (The Call of the River), another sappy tale of patriotism and romance during the Pacific War, and Lamangan's Aishite Imasu (Mahal Kita) 1941 (I Love You 1941), about a transvestite spy falling in love with a Japanese general and a sorry wife who wages her own war against the Japanese invaders. Despite the poor line-up of films, Sigaw didn't get much critical attention aside from a few citations on its production merits. Years later and with much help from Laranas' marketing ingenuity, the film is up for a Hollywood remake (also to be directed by Yaranas) and is now regarded as a classic in the genre.

Does it deserve its current status or is it one of those films whose reputation precedes its actual merits? I'd like to think that it does. Laranas is a gifted cinematographer. I believe he is one of the reason why Raymond Red's Bayani (Heroes, 1992) has that distinct look which turns the film from being simply a film about patriots into an intriguingly surreal version of a well-known portion of Filipino history. His previous films (Balahibong Pusa (Cat Hairs, 2001), Radyo (Radio, 2001), Hibla (Thread, 2002)), not exactly masterpieces in storytelling, are all very alluring to look at. Laranas, who is also cinematographer for Sigaw, feeds the feature with tons of mood and atmosphere; during the first few frames of the film, we are entreated to foreboding views of a concrete building and its interiors tinged with otherworldly hues.

The set-up is excellent, reminiscent of Hideo Nakata's Dark Water (2002) where a decrepit apartment building becomes the fitting setting of a ghost story. In Sigaw, the building is home to a couple, a violent cop (Jomari Yllana) and his pitiful wife (Iza Calzado), and their daughter (Ella Guevara). Their nightly fights and the wife's constant pleas for help disturb Marvin (Richard Gutierrez), a newbie to the building who just acquired his unit for a steal. The story, conceived by Laranas and Roy Iglesias, unfolds succinctly. We first witness one of the couple's more violent episodes. The abusive dialogue, the threats of physical harm accompanied by loud noises of bangings and gunshots are repeated throughout the feature; apart from the conventional shocks and scares (quite effectively done --- Marvin wakes up to blood dripping on his face revealing a bloodied ghost floating above him, or when Marvin and his girlfriend (Angel Locsin) are inside a movie theater and the same ghost starts gliding to them), it is the inauspicious air of domestic violence that makes Sigaw truly terrifying.

Sigaw zeroes in on brutality against women and children, a theme fascinatingly weaved into the film. The repetitiveness, which encompasses both the nightly aural and visual hauntings and the time-enduring manifestations which is against the real and logical assertions of our temporal concept, alludes to the violent act itself. Such brutality is cyclical in its nature. In its most afflictive, its symptoms consist of a vicious circle of physical, mental and emotional violence followed by moments of tenderness, repeated over and over again, trapping the victim perpetually until she tries to escape herself. The ghost story in Sigaw is intertwined with the concept and the effects of such physical and psychological abuse; that these traumatic murders caused by severe beatings and verbal abuse is a logical enough reason to commit the hauntings (mostly the most violent episodes recurring ad infinitum) permanently, at least until a drastic change happens.

This brings me to one of the film's more glaring flaws, the casting of Jomari Yllana as the savage husband. He isn't phsyically apt for the role nor is his acting impressive enough for us to forego his physical deficiencies. Alongside statuesque actress Iza Calzado, he doesn't seem imposing or daunting enough to elicit actual fear. He broods too much and his drunken ruthlessness and brutality is too mannered to be dire. If the role were given to someone more physically terrifying (an ugly, monstrous brute) or someone who can transform tremendously beyond his physical frame (perhaps Ronnie Lazaro, who plays the drunken caretaker of the apartment building), the effect would be much clearer and the distress will be more palpable and believable.

Sigaw is not great horror (although its admittedly a good one), and the fact of its being remade by Hollywood is not reason enough to delegate it the status of a classic. However, it is satisfyingly moody and atmospheric, and beneath all the jumps, scares, and celluloid-committed dread is a convincing subtext. Hopefully, that doesn't get lost in translation.

Pa-Siyam (2004)

Senin, 29 Oktober 2007

Pa-Siyam (2004)

Pa-Siyam (Erik Matti, 2004)

Ever since Chito Roño's Feng Shui (2004) made a killing at the local box office (an obvious aftershock of the successes of Hideo Nakata's Ringu (1998) and Takashi Shimizu's Ju-On (2000) which were adored by Filipino filmgoers), big studios started riding the wave, coming up with their own crafty variations of long-haired creeps with gait problems haunting innocent victims wherever they go. Most of the J-horror rip-offs are uninspired, inexpensive excuses to launch the careers of love teams and teenage idols. Clearly, the wave has blurred what a horror film should be, that instead of damaging the implied safety the audience has with real life (like most of Kiyoshi Kurosawa's films, leaving his audience with a prolonged dread by questioning the very fibers that make us human, something which we cannot easily shrug off), these so-called directors delegate the duty of scaring to cheap shocks, computer effects and jarring sounds.

Erik Matti's Pa-Siyam, one of the few recent Filipino horror films that actually surpassed my expectations, was released without much fanfare. This was expected. There were no popular celebrities attached to the feature. Roderick Paulate, an actor who at the prime of his career portrayed stereotypical loud gay characters (including one who transformed into a horse as a curse) in slapstick comedies, plays the eldest of five siblings who reunite in their parents' mansion for their mother's pa-siyam, a Catholic ritual wherein the loved ones of the deceased would pray daily novenas for the deceased's soul for nine days. The other siblings are played by Cherry Pie Picache (as the second eldest sister who brought with her her own daughter (played by Cristine Reyes)), Maricar de Mesa (as the beautiful and successful sister), Yul Servo (as the happy-go-lucky brother who has a torrid affair with the caretakers' daughter (played by Ana Capri)), and Aubrey Miles (as the mentally retarded youngest sister).

They are all terrific, especially Paulate who sheds the effeminate voice and the females' clothes, which made him popular, to portray a man who is overworked abroad but returns nonetheless to the former family dwelling to battle his personal demons and harbored ill feelings against his mother. Aside from the persistent hauntings (waking up to a roomful of feces, bugs and cockroaches, or being followed by the spectre of their dead mother occupying every nook and corner of the darkly lit house), each of the siblings relive an unfortunate memory within the house, all concerning a portion of their lives being permanently scarred by their mother's intervention. Their reunion isn't a happy one. After niceties and gifts have been exchanged, they drag themselves back to their duty to respect their mother for the final nine days her soul is supposedly still in Earth.

The affair is bleak and dreadful. Matti capitalizes on that atmosphere, at most embellishing the scenes with ambient sounds (of crickets or lizards at night, of the nagging humming of the foreboding lullaby of their mother) or the very low-key yet ominous score of Von de Guzman (who transforms from low-key to orchestral, particularly in the scene wherein the spirit expert reveals to the siblings the torment suffered by their mother, to choral in the film's subdued conclusion). It's very effective. J. A. Tadena's cinematography, using high definition digital video to create a rustic and chilling overview of the barely lit interiors of the house, Richard Somes' detailed production design and De Guzman's music fathom the vision Matti and screenwriter Dwight Gaston had in mind --- to build up the horror not to extreme lengths, but just enough to keep one at a guessing and uncomfortable edge.

What is Pa-siyam all about? What makes it a particularly good Filipino horror film? True, it is well-made and it is very evident that Matti had variable control over the filmmaking, as can be observed by the very consistent tone and vision in the film. Yet, there seems to be no underlying value in the story of siblings reuniting for their mother's death and the concept of a ghost begging for vengeance for her sons and daughters who abandoned her is not exactly unique (almost all ghost stories, not necessarily filmed ones, forward the issue of a wronged soul clamoring for some sore of justice).

What shook me is the way Matti and Gaston shifted the attention from vengeance to guilt, which is the point of every castigation --- to instill into a person an acknowledgment of guilt for a collective sin. The siblings arrive at the house, brandishing their stories of their respective responsibilities (how they work hard to send money for the education of their youngest sibling, or how one tries to keep her finances apt for that sibling's needs; one of the siblings even manages to appear righteous when his girlfriend mysteriously dies), unfettered by the possible and probable sufferings their mother experienced during her last days. They re-enter the mansion guilt-free and heroes and throughout the nine days of prayers, their mother force upon them (like most mothers do) a bit of a reality check, that despite their hard experiences growing up and their respective successes and virtues, they have committed a wrongdoing. The hauntings continue to intensify up to the ninth day, and the siblings still have no clue as to the reasons for their mother's wrath.

They end up permanently scarred as their mother's retribution is more painful than individually hurting them (like how she used to when she was younger and alive); she removes from them the duty of bringing up their retarded sister they might mess up the way they did with her (especially upon the knowledge they gathered linking her to their trusted parish priest (played by Jaime Fabregas)). It is the siblings' capacity for callousness (when the mother was both living and dead) that is punished, that inherent trait of balancing responsibilities and rewards (since they suffered an unhappy childhood, they are free from their mother's clutches), forgetful of the permanent familial bonds that tie us (delegating these duties to servants whose bonds with their ward is as flimsy as the amount of money being sent to them). Matti and his creative team has successfully made me mindful of that (without much blood, pyrotechnics or shocks) making Pa-Siyam one truly satisfying horror film.

Babae sa Breakwater (2004)

Jumat, 22 Juni 2007

Babae sa Breakwater (2004)

Babae sa Breakwater (Mario O'Hara, 2004)
English Title: Woman of the Breakwater

Yoyoy Villame is one of the most underappreciated musicians in the Philippines. While the elite members of society are dictating to the masses the dictum of culture and good taste (mostly Western inspired orchestrations or indigenous melodies), Villame rebelled and came up with songs whose melodies are simple enough to be sung by the tone-deaf, and whose lyrics are memorable enough to be memorized by the simpleminded. His songs are considered novelty, yet the term itself is an anomaly as Villame's songs talk about real life, both its joys and pains, distilled by his jovial beats and uplifting attitude. In fact, in film, his songs are utilized to describe the state of Philippine society --- like in Aureaus Solito's Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros (The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros, 2005) which began with a song where Villame sings "this is my country, the Philippines..." while the camera displays garbage piling up in a creek.

Villame died a month ago, leaving a legacy of songs immortalized by the millions of Filipinos who can hum them in a heartbeat. Probably his most lasting mark on film is in Mario O'Hara's Babae sa Breakwater (Woman of the Breakwater) where he played a street side entertainer singing songs he made famous decades ago.

Babae sa Breakwater is a film about a man Basilio (Kristoffer King), who escapes from provincial Leyte to the slums of Manila with his younger brother Buboy (Alcris Galura). Residing in the makeshift tenements beneath the tourist-infested breakwater of Manila, Basilio falls in love with a prostitute Paquita (Katherine Luna). Their relationship is troubled by the apparent poverty and the more impending threat of the slums' jealous protector, ex-cop Dave (Gardo Versoza). This tragic tale is alleviated by the ditties of Villame, providing a biting sense of irony to the plot and an accurate summary of the unpredictability, the chaotic colors, and the dizzying bevy of emotions that surround Manila life.

O'Hara's film, by itself and without the help of Villame's songs, is quite good. There's an undescribed underlying mythology that sits quietly; to disavow of such mythology or religiosity would spell out a disbelief in many of the film's supervening events. The film begins with what seems to be a religious ritual. Men in masks are about to sacrifice a person; that event causes a eunuch priestess to be murdered causing more acts of vengeance which will ultimately affect the young Basilio and Buboy. It's sort of a seaside cult --- the monster child of Catholicism and paganism, with statues of the Virgin Mary or pagan gods jotting out of the seawater.

The sea in O'Hara's film is the domicile of god; it provides as much as it takes away. Basilio and Buboy respect and appreciate its role. Despite the garbage and filth in Manila Bay, the brothers pay their respects to the unnamed deity by submerging their faces (supposedly conversing to their father --- murdered in the introductory religious vendetta). When humanity betrays Basilio (as when he gets pickpocketed or he is removed from work), it is the sea that magically provides.

The film actually describes man's relationship with the sea (or in this case, God as represented by the sea). Manila, in the film's point of view, has raped the sea --- abused it and polluted it. The city itself is crowded with abusive people and dregs of society; children are addicted to rugby and will fight for leftover food; men urinate in the streets; the characters' pasts (both Paquita and Dave) showcase a depletion of morality within the citizenry, which continues to their present lives; another character steals to escape from the Breakwater but only succeeds in maintaining the habit. Basilio comes from a land where the sea is pure, and within the film, he maintains that purity and is able to reform Paquita, despite the temptations and the treachery of the city. O'Hara succeeds in driving that point, and fantastically, within the context of the tired genre of melodrama about the provincial who gets lost in the big city.

In a way, Babae sa Breakwater is a modified retelling of the Orpheus myth, with Basilio playing the tragic Greek hero and Paquita as Euridyce who is trapped in the underworld. Basilio manages to uplift Paquita from the hedonism of the city (as properly depicted in Dave's character --- an impotent, disabled boss who works through his muscled bodyguard and delights in alternative pleasures). On his way, tragic events ensue yet the end result, the ultimate goal, is to bring Paquita back to Leyte where the sea is clean.

O'Hara's filmmaking and the familiarity of Villame's melodics turn Babae sa Breakwater into a modest yet sublime artwork. At first, the film's simplicity may disarm you into thinking that it is in equal rank to the oft-produced socially-relevant melodramas of the past recent years. However, the film is certainly different as it is ripe with contexts and meanings; all of such are dutifully wrapped up in this fascinating work by two of the country's most brilliant artists.

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This post is my contribution to Windmills of My Mind: Film Music Blog-A-Thon.