Dalaga si Misis, Binata si Mister (1981)

Senin, 20 Februari 2012

Dalaga si Misis, Binata si Mister (1981)

Dalaga si Misis, Binata si Mister (Lino Brocka, 1981)

English Translation: The Wife's a Bachelorette, the Husband's a Bachelor'

Doria (Nora Aunor) is a professional singer. Dick (Christopher de Leon) is an advertising executive. Although married for closing to three years, they have agreed to have a liberated union, giving Doria the time to concentrate on her career and Dick the leeway to play around. The arrangement seems fine until their third year anniversary when Dick gets caught up with flirtatious go-go dancers, leaving Doria alone all night, waiting for her husband on what she thought was a very special night for them. That night’s heated argument forces Doria to leave Dick, leading to the comedic events and encounters that comprise much of what makes Lino Brocka’s Dalaga si Misis, Binata si Mister such an entertaining film.

The success of Dalaga si Misis, Binata si Mister is more a product of the witty writing and the endearing performances. Brocka’s direction, while still predictably dependable, is more perfunctory than anything. Scenes are dutifully sequenced and serviceably framed. Humor is obviously not Brocka’s cup of tea, forcing him to delegate most of the comedy to the humorous dialogue written by screenwriter Butch Dalisay and deliciously delivered by Brocka’s reliable stable of actors and actresses.

Aunor gamely plays the spitfire wife who can no longer take her husband’s infidelities. De Leon, on the other hand, expertly clowns around, allowing himself to be ridiculed as the careless playboy whose immaturity has him trapped in an illicit relationship with a sixteen year old aspiring commercial model that goes out of hand. Carmi Martin, who plays De Leon’s sixteen year old lover, mixes sexy and naive, alluring and annoying, and becomes the one character that makes De Leon’s side of the story the more interesting one in the film. Supporting Martin is Bert Olivar, who plays Martin’s perpetually drunk and extorting father with immaculate gusto. Joel Alano, who plays Aunor’s lover, an up and coming singer in Aunor’s show, is tame, colorless, and perhaps the only character who does not add anything to the film, driving Aunor’s featured escapades with him in the sidelines.

Brocka may have a chance to explore the intricacies of marital discord in a Philippine setting that is more and more moving towards the conservatism that marriage represents. However, Dalaga si Misis, Binata si Mister settles to be just a display of the hilarious consequences brought about by a relationship that was not serious right from the start. While it is interesting to see Brocka strip himself of the heavy burdens of society and just have fun in the film, one can easily judge the film with all of its missed opportunities of stretching the material further to be a satirical reflection of the hypocrisies of the supposed modern Filipino marriage rather than just an admittedly engrossing series of funny scenarios involving ex-lovers and their respective paramours are just too much to be left ignored. Perhaps the real burden of Brocka is not his need to lace his art with social relevance but that he has become too associated with social relevance that all his films will be judged as to how much they shake society to its very core.

That said, Dalaga si Misis, Binata si Mister is not a Brocka film in the same vein as Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang (You were Weighed but Found Wanting, 1974), Insiang (1976) and Maynila: sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (Manila in the Claws of Neon, 1975). It is more a showcase of the director’s competence, of his ability to stretch his reach beyond the comfort and crutches of social relevance. It is guiltlessly enjoyable. From the opening song sung exquisitely sung by Aunor to the stupendous finale involving Aunor, De Leon, Martin and Olivar in a word war, the film was clearly crafted not to arouse thinking but to fascinate and titillate. Brocka’s clever use of star power (Aunor’s role as a singer allows her to belt out a couple of Rey Valera tunes), of Aunor and De Leon’s then indefatigable love team, of Dalisay’s adept appreciation of what is funny in what is real, are all blended together into one product that is so satisfying, one can just immediately forget about all the seriousness in the world and get drowned in laughter.

(Cross-published in Lagarista.)

Adultery (Aida Macaraeg Case No.7892) (1984)

Minggu, 25 November 2007

Adultery (Aida Macaraeg Case No.7892) (1984)

Adultery (Aida Macaraeg Case No. 7892) (Lino Brocka, 1984)

Adultery (Aida Macaraeg Case No. 7892) is not one of filmmaker Lino Brocka's best works. It definitely cannot be lined alongside masterpieces like Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang (You Were Weighed But Found Wanting, 1974), Maynila: Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag (Manila in the Claws of Neon, 1975), and Insiang (1976). At best, Adultery is a well-made melodrama that puts a social issue, that of marital infidelity as escape from poverty, at the center of its affairs. Jose Javier Reyes' well-crafted screenplay (the story is credited to Aida Sevilla Mendoza) is supposedly sourced from a real life account, but one wonders if convenient happy endings (which the film unfortunately struggles with) exist in these kind of cases, especially ones as emotionally charged as in the film. In the Philippines, adultery cases stretch for years and any emotion resembling marital love and concern is replaced with scorching hate, the primary ingredient that fuels litigation.

Aida (Vilma Santos giving a very mature performance) is the sole breadwinner for her family, consisting of a bedridden father, a nagging mother, a good-for-nothing brother, his unemployed wife and baby. Unable to bear the hardships of living with her family, she takes the offer of her boyfriend Carding (Phillip Salvador) to simply live together, resisting his invitation to marry him despite the possible scandal that might arise out of their living arrangement. Carding gets caught peddling prohibited drugs and gets imprisoned, leaving Aida all alone to fend for herself. Years later, Carding gets released from prison and finds Aida, now a mistress of a wealthy executive (Mario Montenegro) and mother to a child that is not his. Aida is then sued for adultery by Carding, which if she is proven guilty would separate her from her son.

There's one sequence in the film which clearly shows Brocka's mastery. Aida visits Carding in prison, telling him of her pregnancy. Carding again offers to marry her, fearing that their child would be a bastard child. Supposedly out of pity, Aida agrees. The marriage is solemnized then and there. The prison chaplain officiates the ceremony where Aida is draped in an ordinary dress while Carding wears the orange colored uniform. Around are the witnesses of their marriage, felons all donning the same orange outfit Carding is wearing. Of course, these are mere background details, emphasizing the sullenness of the event that is ordinarily jovial and lively. Brocka concentrates on Aida. He closes up on her face, worried about the uncertainty of her future: she is after all pregnant and now married to a convict with absolutely no source of income. It is Aida's point of no return and Brocka understands it as such, thus he presents it with understated elegance; no dialogue, just Lutgardo Labad's swelling music and Brocka's emphatic close-up of Vilma Santos' apprehensive face.

The film attempts to criticize marriage, which is depicted not in its traditional sense (as the key to life's bliss) but as a harrowing cage where women are left with no choices. It seems to advocate infidelity, especially when the requirements of life overtakes the facile concerns of societal and religious norms. Interestingly, Brocka does not antagonize any of his characters. Aida is a hardworking woman who we first see as the selfless sufferer who is charged with her family's survival, a mere victim of fate and circumstance. Also, one cannot doubt Carding's affection for Aida. His decisions in life may have been off, leading to his incarceration and Aida's continuing suffering, but it is clear that his love for his wife is indubitable. The blame does not go to any person but to the social institution that is marriage, its sometimes shallow roots and the unbendable veneration the law and society gives to it to the detriment of the unique needs of individuals.

I am impressed as to how Brocka directed the courtroom sequence, without the usual pomp and unnecessary drama. The courtroom sequence gives the impression as to how the justice is bookish and blind to personal plights. One lawyer asks Aida a question, and she shies away saying that the question is too personal. Of course, the judge demands that she answer the question, which she does unwillingly. In the eyes of the law, emotions, circumstance, fate, and needs are denied materiality and relevance. Under the law, Aida is guilty and deserves the penalty that would have been dealt to her. This should have been the instance wherein we'll fall for Aida's plight: that despite her being guilty for adultery, she does not deserve to be punished for she was merely forced to infidelity not by an innate evil but by circumstances that are uncontrollable in her life. However, instead of dishing out an ending that would operate as the culmination of such criticism, Brocka and Reyes decided to succumb to sentimentality. Husband forgives wife. Wife gets her son back. Everybody's satisfied. Unfortunately, reality, which the film tried so hard to emulate, isn't anything like that.

Ang Tatay Kong Nanay (1978)

Senin, 25 Juni 2007

Ang Tatay Kong Nanay (1978)

Ang Tatay Kong Nanay (Lino Brocka, 1978)
English Title: My Father, My Mother

Lino Brocka's Ang Tatay Kong Nanay (My Father, My Mother) is such a delightful film. Sure, it engrosses itself with several melodramatic turns and its representation of homosexuality is limited to the loud transvestite types. However, there's something about the film that strikes you as adamantly sincere (as compared to popcorn fare like Mrs. Doubtfire (Chris Columbus, 1993) or other gender-bender tearjerkers released lately).

During its closing sequences wherein Coring (played with a pitch-perfect sense of both comedy and drama by Dolphy), dressed as Ms. Spain in a low-budget gay-version of an international beauty pageant (again, a testament to Philippine ingenuity), answers a question by the pageant host. Brocka's camera then lingers to Dolphy's exaggeratedly painted face; and Dolphy owns the close-up, delivering his lines with subtle emotionality and tender grace. His manner of answering felt like his character bore the aches of the entire Philippine gay community on his shoulders, and you can easily feel for him. Just when you are drawn to his character's poignant soliloquy, Dolphy snaps out of the mood with a joke, and you laugh, although still teary-eyed.

The plot itself is nothing special. Coring, a gay beautician, is left with a baby by his former ward, Dennis (Philip Salvador). The baby grows up (the boy is played by a very young Niño Muhlach) thinking that Coring is his real father. Everything seems to be smooth until the kid's mother (Marissa Delgado) suddenly shows up to claim her son.

What's special is how Brocka and writer Orlando Nadres pumped up the story with themes dealing with the difficulty and sensitivity in the rearing of a boy by a gay parent. There's a detailed attention on how Coring tries to shield the boy from his homosexuality. A touching sequence shows the boy using Coring's lipstick on himself so he looks like the Indian from a picture book. When Coring sees the boy using lipstick on himself, he scolds the boy out of fear of him turning into a homosexual. When the boy explains that he was only trying to emulate the Indian from the picture book, Coring's fears are waived and he lovingly hugs the boy.

It is that underlying theme that ultimately unites the film, more than the tearjerking story. There are two scenes in the film that adequately resolves the issue of identity. The first one is when the boy catches his father donning a dress in a fashion show. He point-blank asks Coring whether or not he is ashamed of the way he looks. Coring, before answering, wipes the make-up from his face and removes the wig from his head, and gives a reliable excuse. The ending of the film offers a similar scenario. The boy again catches Coring, who just got home from a beauty contest. There were no more questions asked and Coring didn't even bother removing the make-up from his face or the wig from his head; they just hugged. The bonds of fatherhood withstood the demands of society or Coring's own shame of showing himself as a homosexual in front of his adopted son.

This makes the film, with all its stereotypes and conventional narrative arcs, as timely now, as it was decades ago when it was released. It is a gay-themed film that is ultimately rewarding beyond its genre. It preaches acceptance, not mere tolerance. It proposes homosexuality as a non-issue in parental love and affection. Straight or gay, there's something to be gained from watching the film --- a handful of chuckles, a cupful of tears, and most importantly, a whole lot of heart.