REVIEW: CINEMALAYA 2008 SHORTS A

At last, I finally had the gumption to attend the Cinemalaya at the CCP. I barely made it to Shorts B (at least now I know I can actually make it to Manila from Antipolo in an hour if I pass via C5 and The Fort), but the tickets were all sold out (wow) pero the heavens looked kindly upon my efforts and rewarded me with a Shorts A ticket which somebody refunded just when I was about to fume. Awww. The universe does conspire...

While killing 2 hours of my time, I found myself in an unbelievably half-empty CCP Shop. What happened? Somebody should stock the gift shop, quick! It's a national embarrassment! If you need someone to search high and low for Philippine souvenirs, you know who to call. *wink, wink* Sigh. I am so shameless. At any rate, got the two volumes of The Essential Brocka released by Unitel. They include the films Insiang, Tatlo Dalawa Isa, Ang Tatay kong Nanay, and Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang. If you buy all four, it will only cost Php 325/DVD. Individually bought, each will cost Php 450. Carrot on a stick, and I willingly bit into the offer. In fact I already saw Ang Tatay kong Nanay this dawn immediately when I got home, and I enjoyed it immensely. The social conditions have not changed at all, have they?

Now, on with the shows.

First things first. I honestly think the shorts look so much better this year. In fact, they seem to be improving in terms of technicals as the festival progresses, which I think is good. The digital age offers so much variety of technology that it would be a sin for a director not to fully tap this exciting medium. The shots are better, there's a delicious patina to every work, and the editing is more inspired. The stories (the heart of the matter), however, remain stuck to what I have dubbed as the 3 Ks of local indie cinema: Kahirapan, Kamunduhan, and Kabaklaan. How truly exciting.


ANG IBANG MGA PAMILYA (OTHER FAMILIES) by Joel P. Ruiz (Baby Angelo, Mansyon) is about a woman who overcomes the grief of losing her adopted son. Come to think of it, she never really overcame the loss. She was in perpetual grief. Ang Ibang Mga Pamilya had a very promising start. You know it's bound to be special, but it eventually gave way to cliches until it eventually fell apart (talk about unfulfilled promises). The tepid, slow progress of this film makes for a lousy opener and I think the story is nothing special and the narrative is beyond redemption. Great photography and editing though. The film is bathed throughout in a warm, comforting light which gives it the somber mood it's supposed to have. However, quoting A Chorus Line, "And I dug right down to the bottom of my soul / and cried / 'cause I felt... nothing."


DIAMANTE SA LANGIT (DIAMOND IN THE SKY) by Vic Acedillo, Jr. (Screenplay, Batad: Sa Paang Palay) is about two brothers' journey to compete in a kite flying contest. But getting there takes some time. In the end, they face something unexpected and discover something more precious than winning. Like the first short, this work had so much promise in the beginning, but it is rather predictable. You actually already know what's going to happen next. The Director's unique problem was how to attack that predictability and come up with an intelligent or, at the very least, a heartwarming ending. Diamante is another case of the writer-director now knowing when to stop while he's on top of the game. He gave in to a happy ending when he could have stopped shooting when the two boys arrived at the kite festival and realized their plastic-bag kite was no match to the other's. Long shot, fade, music. Hindi naman po ipinagbabawal ang sad endings, di ba? But he didn't because that would be fulfilling audience expectations (because we know that's how it'd turn out at the onset). In the end, it became a meandering video of two boys giving themselves a pat on the back for making it this far. And that last line about their kite being still the best one? We didn't have to hear it, really. We already know.

Nice closing shots of the Pampanga plains though with the unmistakable Mount Arayat in the background. Made me miss my childhood days except that I didn't like flying kites. I threw stones at houses instead (mamuga cung batu kareng bale bale!).


GOD ONLY KNOWS by Mark V. Reyes (Last Full Show; Best Short, 2004 Turin) focuses on the disturbing and gut wrenching tale about the realities of life in the sprawling metropolis of Manila. If this was made by a writer-director who did not grow up here in Manila then I will have to muster up the courage to forgive him (but this is not so, in fact). This film displays complete ignorance of Philippine culture (I wish to discuss a little sociology, but I'm not in the mood to educate. The director happened to be in the room when this was being viewed). Sure, paedophilia is a reality in the Philippines; sure, we have our Payatas dump (and we show it ever so proudly in our films like an old, ragged medal) but surely the writer could care to see beyond all these and find other aspects of the problem to discuss? I can tell he's after the shock value (I felt like laughing), but in this country where we eat scandals and contoversies for breakfast, lunch and heavy helpings of the same at dinner, we do not need to be shocked. We ARE in a state of shock, so much so that we've already almost lost all faculties and facilities for greatness and meaningful action and would rather wait for better times (even the Left says they had to earn a living hence they're not seen on the streets as often as before). Sure, call me manhid, but I believe in the innate goodness of men which is a great alternative to the ineffectiveness of evil forces. It's either we have to believe that we are capable of good, or we have to do actual good to overcome our predicaments, however sad and hopeless. The reason why God Only Knows won't be effective is because it is neither a condemnation nor an indictment of poverty and paedophilia. It doesn't explore the topic and it doesn't offer any alternatives. It just hints at it, and then moves on leaving the audience severly wanting a closure. The story left it all to God which is why only He knows what Director Reyes really had in mind.


ANGAN-ANGAN (DREAMS) by Sheron R. Dayoc (Trails of Water) centers on a mute nine-year-old girl named Satra, whose determination to secure a good education reverberates clearly amid the strictness of her Yakan culture. The Yakan are one of the 13 Moro groups in the Philippines. They mainly reside in Basilan, Mindanao. The technicals went haywire on this one and we saw it twice without an audio. A jury member got incensced and called up someone to fix it. While this was all happening, the Caucasian jury member sitting comfortably on the couch in front of me was already asleep (is this what one calls a "detached" view of things? Only God knows). Anyway, after a few minutes, we finally got to view Angan-Angan with full sound. I imagine Angan-Angan to have been made with funding agencies in mind (or perhaps supported by one) because if I were to see it in that light, I can say that it has achieved its mission. Otherwise, it has zero commercial value given the non-familiarity of the territory and the subject matter to most audiences in Manila. The film also assumes that you are familiar with the Yakans, the current situation in their territories, and about the Bangsamoro Movement so if you've been living under a rock, this film can be be your eyeopener. Or maybe not. As an aside, there's been a recent breakthough in the negotiations in Malaysia.

Hailing from Mindanao myself, I wish to have this work seen more in its home island where poverty and strife continue to divide its peoples. I hope it brings understanding and appreciation of how education can be instrumental in ending the root cause of all clashes in the Promised Land. Director Sheron (who also attended the Ateneo in Zamboanga like I did; think Mayor Climaco assasination) brings to fore the spirit of magis in his work. Kudos to the director for first, choosing a girl as the main subject and second, for ending the film on a positive note. Angan-Angan truly reflects the unique realities of public education in the Philippines where the girls outnumber boys (and they stay far longer in schools, too).


ANDONG by Rommel "Milo" Tolentino is a story about a six-year old boy's obsession, family dynamics, and the real value of a hard-fought twenty pesos. If there's anyone who's really got his ears close to the ground, it's Rommel Tolentino (he even got us fooled with the trailer!). Andong packs a whallop in the heart department, the only film where the audience - already sleepy from the first four offerings - finally came to life and rewarded Andong with a well-deserved round of applause (at this point, the Caucasian juror slowly came to his senses). The quirky and playful editing worked wonders for this film and the low-grade camera feel didn't even get in the way. Why, the story was very simple but the narrative was tight, witty and the children actors were very charming and natural! It was like being there yourself. Truly, a fitting ending during Typhoon Helen's last evening in Manila. Congratulations, Director Milo, for this endearing and memorable work.

(Milo said...
Hey man, Thank you for all the kind words on ANDONG, I sincerely appreciate it. Salamat.)

Proof that directors do read reviews, haha!



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Tonight, July 17, I will be watching 100 by Chris Martinez (9pm). See you there! Yipeeee!

FILM REVIEW: SERBIS

In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.

In my craft or sullen art, Dylan Thomas

IT'S THE STORY, STUPID.
by DYG


By now the staff and crew of SERBIS are already past caring what anyone thinks of their work, but as SERBIS opened in its home country for the first time yesterday (I saw it on July 2), it opened the film – and people behind it – to critique by the local audience of both the pandering and the venomous kind. After all, not all the reviews that came out of Cannes were nice to read (or watch, as it were). I admit I was pushed to watch SERBIS because of the quite interesting trailer. I like the color green and there was this overall greenish – or rather, mocha – patina all over the film which I loved so much. Plus, being an amateur photographer, I like shots with drama and SERBIS was quite liberal in this department (among other things, but that’s getting there too early).

Mendoza’s penchant for realism find resonance in the works of Filipino film masters – Brocka, Bernal, etc., but then I recall writer Rita de la Cruz reminding a group of younger, bright-eyed writers during a workshop, ”Napaka-boring ng katotohanan.”and SERBIS has everything – guts, grit, gumption. It also has all the clichés one can possibly think of in films of this genre (they are too difficult to resist). Not only does it have the kitchen sink, it also threw in the toilet bowl for good measure.

Because of this, SERBIS’ narrative suffered terribly in the light of its turtle-paced progression. The story was sacrificed on the altar of details. Because of too many things happening on the screen at the same time (too much energy was spent on establishing the setting, for example), the writers didn’t even have the chance to develop the characters. Everyone acted on their own accord; we couldn’t even figure out who was the son, the mother, and the grandmother of who (see? We were too distracted).

Lingering shots (method acting) did not help nor did they make an impact. This makes me wonder if Mendoza has friends in the film industry who could criticize his work honestly without being afraid of losing their jobs in the increasingly contracting local film business. It is in the interest of Mendoza to surpass his more brilliant works (i.e. Kaleldo). It is useless to keep on experimenting in styles if the story does not progress. The latter should come as a surprise since the writers of SERBIS had super track records (Pila Balde & Tuhog for Amando Lao; Kaleldo for Boots Pastor). Was the material too complex to put together in a 1.5-hour film? Maybe. I recall watching a play of a similar story at last year’s Virgin Labfest and I thought it was the worse of the lot.

Anyway, the film is a visual feast (and I do not mean the gratuitous nudity which was said to have driven a wedge between the director and lead actor). Priceless were the scenes where Coco Martin was unplugging a stuck floor drain, the escaped goat against the screen, an aggrieved Gina Pareño on the toilet floor clutching her new but wet pair of shoes, Julio Diaz and that perpetual stupid look on his face, water coming out of the faucet during Gina’s bath scene (I loved the tiles!). The opening scene; what the hell was that all about? Ugh. At any rate, Gina Pareño shines in this film (but not as much as she did in Kubrador). Coco Martin and Jacklyn Jose are hopelessly trapped in mono-dimensional characters. Everyone else was forgettable.


Filipino Director Brilliante Mendoza poses in Cannes during the photocall (May 18, 2008). Photo credit: Getty Images

If it wouldn’t be too imposing, I wish to offer four alternate endings to SERBIS:

First, there was a scene where it showed the theatre in its most serene – silent and lighted. For once, there was a respite from the ambient noise that so many reviewers were complaining about (I think I liked it, actually). There was a top shot of a man sitting all alone on a bench below with the light from the afternoon sun flooding the area around him. There were lovely shots of empty halls and stairwells that were fantastic and worthy of a coffee table book. Slow music. Fade.

Second was when Gina Pareño, after taking a bath and changing into mourning clothes again (but bejeweled, as if to show pride in whatever was left of her former fortunes) manning the ticketron, her head held up high. The camera actually panned out, but didn’t fade as expected. Tsk tsk. It could have ended the film on a more positive note. I mean, after all the sad, depressing scenes earlier, perhaps there could be some form of justice in the end? Nada. None for this film. It’s too Lars von Trier for crying out loud (he did once say, “A film should be like a rock in a shoe”).

Third was when Coco Martin packed his bags and walked out of the theatre and got swallowed up in a huge religious procession. Pan out, fade, music, credits.

The fourth was a beautiful and dramatic night shot of the theatre’s façade with the huge signage that reads FAMILY (the theatre’s name; how truly imaginative. Onli in da Pilipins.) The theatre looked glorious, it’s 70’s-era architecture a stark contrast to the shabbiness around – and inside – it. Fade, music, credits.

All of the above endings are thematic and aim for positive endings, but Mendoza’s style is obviously – and continuously – changing; there are no more rules, and that creates a lot of problems. I think I also had a quick Maslow moment during the screening. “It is tempting,” says Abe Maslow, “if the only tool you have is a hammer, you treat everything as if it were a nail.” Truly, when one has high-grade cameras and great writers at one’s disposal, so many things can be done with them; otherwise, what are you a filmmaker for? To quote von Trier, “When there's nobody to enforce discipline upon you, then you have to enforce it from within. That, in return, has made me incredibly disciplined at my work today—I work all the time. But at the same time it's a tremendous source of anxiety that everything is your decision. Of course this has given me great faith in my own creativity—almost like a christening gift.”

I, too, have great faith that Mendoza will continue to improve his craft.


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Anyway, after mentioning all these to a friend, he SMSed back,” Who cares about the technicalities? How was the sex?” I rest my case.