SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     In a movie about someone with cancer, a delicate balancing act takes place and determines if the production falls into intolerably melodramatic territory or emerges as something that connects with viewers on a deeper level. Go too broad and you’ll fall into a series of clichés, but put the material in the hands of strong characters developed by even stronger actors and you have something like Lemuel C. Lorca's Paquil (Resiko Entertainment Productions, 2025). Former actress Cristina (Beauty Gonzalez) discovers she has cancer — an affliction that changes her relationship with overbearing mother, Bing (Lilet Esteban) and musician Paolo (JM de Guzman), who wants to help her in the only way he really knows how. Gonzalez delivers a largely genuine, layered performance. Her character rides the emotional roller coaster one might expect from her situation — shock, depression, isolation and most glaringly, anger. Cristina has trouble expressing emotions and the cancer forces her to lash out about what she’s feeling. Clearly the flip side to De Guzman’s strengths, Gonzalez at times seems to be playing catchup to De Guzman’s free-flowing interplay whether she likes it or not. He further demonstrates his superb ability to find the comedy in individuals programmed for deadpan objectivity. Their scenes together are particularly brilliant in how they push beyond the first joke. When Paolo’s attempt to kiss Cristina comfortingly falls flat, De Guzman is splendid in his discomfort, betraying Paolo’s growing affection for her. Somehow all of those involved have managed to avoid the temptation to inflate their experience.This is not an easy story to tell by any means. 

     Both Archie del Mundo’s screenplay and Lorca’s direction struggle with aim and avoiding cliche, a pitfall Paquil falls into repeatedly. There are the sappy, predictable moments with Cristina looking stoic and of course, revelations and pontifications on the meaning and fragility of life. Lorca aims high and comes close to his mark on occasion, but the often cringe-inducing near-misses outweigh the hits. The story raises some practical problems. Cristina’s cancer functions primarily as a plot device. Details of her progress and continued treatment are postponed and in general, she seems in good health for a terminal cancer patient. Cristina and Paolo’s time together depends on illness to elevate an ordinary romance into transcendence. Paquil incorporates an ambitious set of events and by the end, some work better than others - while a few are overtly ham-fisted and jammed into the story. However, Del Mundo’s script also evinces touches of real grace by confronting its conflict head-on, often painfully so. Paquil emphasizes to heartbreaking effect the soul-crushing loneliness any cancer sufferer has to deal with. Filled with a cast of such talented players, entertaining moments are sprinkled throughout and you get the feeling that, with a push or a prod in one direction or another and a clearer aim, it might just have hit its mark more often than it does. It’s easy to reinforce the film’s message that having cancer makes you realize how important it is to define and redefine your connections and who means what to you. Paquil is a rare movie—one that is honest. It’s a truly moving story that, despite a tendency toward the facile, never relies on tricks to make us feel something. 

Music: Paulo Almaden

Editing: Lemuel Lorca

Sound Design: Immanuel Verona, Fatima Nerikka Salim

Production Design:Carmela Danao

Director of Photography: Marvin Reyes

Screenplay: Archie del Mundo

Directed By: Lemuel C. Lorca

     Though the title teases at religious allegory, Adolfo Borinaga Alix, Jr.'s Pieta (Alternative Vision Cinema, Noble Wolf, 2023) is far from your average scripture. With no room for hackneyed preaching or politics, the film's faith system is wrapped in a verité-style drama, in which sacrifice and persecution are indistinguishable. Characters find redemption through punishment and seek truth through manipulation. Alix prefers his characters to speak more through deed than word. Often delving into deeply transgressive corners of the human psyche, Pieta never goes where we expect it to. And it has some important things to say about revenge and sacrifice. Alfred Vargas as Isaac is a marvel to watch. His transformation is almost impossible to tear away from. Isaac's problems turn out to be of a more internal and existential origin than in any outward pressures weighing him down. Vargas’ intensity is well matched by Nora Aunor, bringing a sense of disturbing mystery to Rebecca whose relationship with her son takes a surprise twist as Isaac suddenly remembers an incident from his youth. Every so often, bursts of affectionate spontaneity erupt between Rebecca and Isaac, demonstrating the genuine love and bond that they share – and yet, the connection remains fragile, derailed so quickly whenever either one of them slips through the emotional cracks that ennui has eroded into their core personalities.

     Nothing in director Lawrence Fajardo's features approaches the power and skill of The Hearing (Cinemalaya, Pelikulaw, Center Stage Productions, 2024) which represents a major leap forward in all departments. Proving himself an astonishingly accomplished director as well as a measured storyteller. While this is unquestionably an issue film, it tackles its subject with intelligence and heart. Fajardo uses a trial to structure the film, though this isn’t a courtroom drama and those scenes are wisely kept to a minimum. He does a superb job through a mixture of shrewd editing and a multitude of sounds, generally keeping the camera just below or above twelve-year-old Lucas' (Enzo Osorio) head. In following his young protagonist and his mother Madonna (Mylene Dizon), Fajardo articulates the impossibility of the lives bestowed upon them. It’s a deeply assured piece of direction and though it only plays a few emotional notes, they are ones that won’t soon leave your memory. The Hearing gives us course after course of heart-wrenching scenarios tied to the POV of its child protagonist that it’s hard to get a sense of any course of action than the one chosen. This is not an easy movie by any stretch of the imagination. Lucas' situation goes from dire to almost unwatchable. The director allows us to enter into the boy’s mind. We watch this movie not as concerned adults but as complicit secret-sharers and that makes all the difference. But the polemical is never as powerful as the personal and Fr. Mejor's (Rom Factolerin) part of the story illuminates the whole with nauseating clarity. They welcomed him because he was their conduit to the church on which they counted for solace and support. By the time it's told, his unnerving air of detachment has been shown to be emblematic of an indifference endemic in the church itself. Fajardo isn’t interested in giving the audience the kind of relief so absent from the children Lucas represents. 

     Ginhawa (Cinemalaya, Black Toro Productions, 2022) is a captivating underdog story charting familiar ground, but in a way that feels organic, for the most part. The screenplay by writer/director Christian Paolo Lat and co-writers Mia Salisbury, Lester Caacbay and Anju de Vera works best when it focuses on the burgeoning relationship between Anton (Andrew Ramsay) and Jepoy (Shun Andrei Bacalla) as they embark on their journey. Their relationship evolves and gets put to the test. It's fortunate, then, that Anton and Jepoy remain compelling characters and most importantly, palpably human, except for an injury that Jepoy sustains later in the film and unrealistically survives. Characters arrive to make their lives difficult at the start while others stay hidden until it’s their turn to do the same. So Anton and Jepoy are more or less sandwiched by oblivion. Forwards and backwards hold no solace. The only place where they’re seemingly safe is on the boxing ring itself. And they do have some fun, trying to make the best of it. But you can’t ignore your fate forever. Eventually you have to face the demons and pick a direction. They’ve each led a life that was never built with an escape hatch. It won’t therefore be difficult to figure out any narrative progressions. Has Anton given all he has just to sacrifice his soul for nothing more than a chance at happiness? Or will he find the courage to stand-up to the world that’s done everything in its power to keep him down? Just because you won’t find any profound revelations doesn’t mean the experience is without merit. 

     One could argue that the script’s shortcomings are the actors’ gain since they’re each asked to render the emotional beats authentic despite their convenience. It helps that they all know their failings internally no matter how vehemently they argue against them. Ramsay has the juiciest role. He’s the really dangerous one, when push comes to shove brought home by an inevitable violent climax that features a superb supporting performance by Dido de la Paz as the dreaded Coach Jun. Bacalla is a quiet authentic presence, weighted down with pain and it is touching to watch him loosen up as Jepoy’s bond with Anton deepens. Duane Lucas Pascua gives a fascinating performance as Anton's older brother, Saul. The anxiety is always flickering deep in Pacsua’s eyes, even at his most brash and loud. And though his role is brief, Rolando Inocencio’s Tiyo Noel deftly conveys righteous indignation. Lat's direction is intimate and lived-in, he seems at home in the grungy rooms and streets. He doesn’t glamorize the bloody results of boxing, either. He has a way of showing tenderness and brutality in alternate scenes, with music layered into the basest of scenes. There’s little doubt that Ginhawa improves substantially as it progresses, as the movie’s effectiveness is, in its early stages, undercut by an emphasis on overly familiar plot elements and character types. It has a nice, low-key vibe to it. By the time it reaches its somewhat spellbinding third act and downright powerful finale, Ginhawa has cemented its place as an erratic yet completely rewarding little drama that’s ultimately much better than it has any right to be.

Directed By: Christian Paolo Lat

Written By: Christian Paolo Lat, Mia Salisbury, Lester Caacbay, Anju de Vera

Director of Photography: Dominic Lat

Production Design: Melvin Lacerna

Editor: Alec Figuracion

Musical Director: Pau Protacio

Sound Design: Jannina Mikaela Minglanilla, Garem Rosales

     It’s devastating, the way director Maryo J. delos Reyes depicted how the domino-effect destruction of 1995’s Sa Ngalan ng Pag-ibig (Regal Films, Inc.) came within milliseconds of never happening. Spanky (Christopher de Leon) could pick up and perish the idea of sleeping with exotic, enticing Donna (Alma Concepcion) — returning home determined to reawaken his wife’s passion. Likewise, Mae (Lorna Tolentino), could reduce the rage at discovering his infidelity — resolving to attempt reconciliation and not avenge a fling that blossomed into full-fledged intimacy. Delos Reyes has never been much for subtlety, but when is true sexual passion not abandoned inhibitions and wild expression? He understands, though, that the psychology of erotic fantasy has as much potential to obliterate as to titillate. Sa Ngalan ng Pag-ibig never arouses, judges or mounts a morality play. It’s a dark, delusional piece of sultry fantasia that doesn’t condemn or condone Spanky or Mae’s choices. It simply presents people surprised by the ease with which they transgress and allow little white lies to fester into gigantic, tumorous deceptions. Delos Reyes has always been a stylish filmmaker, but he gives Sa Ngalan Pag-ibig much more than surface elegance. His choice of angles and colors, his use of shadows and especially his mastery of editing all work to create a unified psychological texture. He's aided by an unusually honest and perceptive screenplay by Raquel Villavicencio and Wali Ching, and by De Leon and Tolentino whose performances go to a place of complete emotional nakedness. There's a remarkable sequence in which Mae goes to Donna's apartment. Her emotional state is one anybody could recognize, though it's hard to put a name to it. She's trembling and we can feel it. Not every filmmaker can convey that physical sense. Delos Reyes takes us inside it, so that we understand what it would be like to be her, to inhabit a body electric with nonstop longing. It's not an enviable state. It's more like a fever. Tolentino is asked to run the full spectrum of emotions, from unexpected joy to emptiness to heartbreak and her every step is a flawless grace note. As Mae becomes more and more aware of her husband's deceitfulness, the anger, hatred and insecurities that come with it are palpably felt by Tolentino's powerhouse turn. Delos Reyes contemplates newer models when he first lingers on Tolentino's sex appeal but, in the end, the actress fights back with evocative blood-splatter. 

     A word should also be said for De Leon, here eschewing all his usual tics. Spanky knows Mae too well and the big confrontation scene is affecting because it turns on the heart of the dilemma. A man who loves his wife so much versus a man who exists entirely in the present. While Concepcion has no problem making any man vulnerable, in Sa Ngalan ng Pag-ibig, she easily captures her character giving Donna the demeanor of a free, uncomplicated but somewhat mysterious woman who enjoys the games she plays. Perhaps the most humanistically genuine motion picture Delos Reyes has yet put to celluloid, Sa Ngalan ng Pag-ibig takes an unflinching and emotionally rattling look at the recklessness of infidelity and how it can destroy the lives of all three parties involved, leaving no one satisfied. While thriller elements are introduced into the story over an hour into the proceedings, Delos Reyes resists the temptation of resorting to horror movie cliches. Here, his intentions are set on a notably higher and more thought-provoking wrung. Sex is not just a passing fancy, but profoundly disruptive, not life enhancing but life shattering and what's broken cannot be remade. The fling cannot be unflung. A skipping record is Delos Reyes' transitional element between Mae’s comfort and fear, a Model of the Year trophy, the haunting reminder of nature bringing and tearing lovers apart. Sa Ngalan ng Pag-ibig represents the best of both worlds. It excites the emotions in the way a good melodrama should, but it also stirs the quieter feelings of pity and helplessness we associate with tragedy. It's the rare kind of movie that comes along only a handful of times-- gut-level entertainment that's oddly profound. It is not often that viewers are gifted with a rare adult film that presents a serious view of sex, love and relationships. As a showcase for marvelous actors at the top of their game and a poignant portrait of a family in the midst of unraveling, Sa Ngalan ng Pag-ibig gets it just right. 

Sound Engineer: Joe Climaco

Production Designer: Benjie de Guzman

Director of Photography: Charlie Peralta, FSC

Film Editor: George Jarlego, FEGMP

Musical Director: Jimmy Fabregas

Screenplay: Raquel Villavicencio, Wali Ching

Directed By: Maryo J. delos Reyes