SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     As Magnolia de la Cruz, Aunor does full justice to a heroine who loves deeply and helplessly. Tirso Cruz III delivers a beautiful nuanced performance. He seems a tad opaque in the opening scenes, but peels back the layers of his character as the film progresses. In Bilangin ang Bituin sa Langit, Ricardo Jacinto, in a glorious demonstration of all that cinematography can be, floods the screen with color. Lutgardo Labad's score punctuates key moments with expert precision, complimenting the tone of the characters’ voices and the traumas written on their faces. By observing and even, to some extent, exaggerating, Perez gives the film an emotional impact that could not have been achieved by conventionally realistic means. And this, in effect, is what Bilangin ang Bituin sa Langit accomplishes for its characters. It rediscovers the aching, desiring humanity in a genre too often subjected to easy parody or ironic appropriation. Elwood Perez has given us a compelling love-letter to cinema itself.

Sound Supervision: Joe Climaco

Production Designers: Ray Maliuanag, Raymond Bajarias, Gerry Pascual, Freddie Valencia

Cinematography: Ricardo Jacinto

Editor: George Jarlego

Musical Director: Lutgardo Labad

Screenplay: Jake Cocadiz

Director: Elwood Perez

     Carlos Siguion-Reyna's Ikaw Pa Lang ang Minahal  (Reyna Films, 1992) demonstrates the filmmaker’s keen eye for composition as a means of enhancing his actors’ performances. The ornate home at the center of the film is befitting of the considerably successful Dr. Maximo Sevilla (Eddie Gutierrez). Yet the ample space left between objects in a room hints at a hollow, impersonal atmosphere that envelops Dr. Sevilla’s daughter, Adela (Maricel Soriano). Plain, naive and shy, Adela comes across as a woman so socially awkward and insecure that the coldness of the family home seems comforting compared to the world outside. Despite Adela’s shyness, the young woman does want to socialize and she accompanies her father one night to a party where she meets David Javier (Richard Gomez), a handsome but hard-up young man. If Adela’s array of nervous tics, widened eyes, reflexive but forced smiles alienate her from others, David’s magnetism is such that everyone is drawn to him. He takes a keen interest in Adela and effortlessly carries the conversation when she gets flustered and doesn’t know what to say. Soriano painstakingly captures Adela’s manic, disbelieving glee at seeing a man talk to her and in this moment, the camera moves more than it does for the remainder of Ikaw Pa Lang ang Minahal, not only in sync with the dancing at the party, but with Adela’s sudden rush of infatuation. David thoroughly charms her and even puts on a face of mock dejection. When he calls on Adela the next day, their courtship turns into an engagement in short order.

     Adela’s impending nuptials should be wonderful news for Dr. Sevilla who rejects the union on the grounds that no man as handsome and suave as David could possibly be interested in his dull, homely daughter and as such must simply want her for her inheritance. The disdain that Dr. Sevilla reveals for Adela shocks her to the core and to make matters worse, her father may be right about David. The dual blow of discovering that the men in her life see her largely as an object is shattering and if Siguion-Reyna’s mostly static compositions first communicated her introversion, slowly they come to reflect her abject misery. Some shots endure for so long that you can almost see as Adela’s sorrow and humiliation harden into bitterness in real time. Siguion-Reyna’s willingness to set up a shot with exacting formal precision, then cede prominence to the actors who move within the space of the frame, results in a multivalent study of not only the story’s characters, but of the markedly different styles of acting. Gutierrez portrays even Dr. Sevilla’s more subtle gestures of contemptuousness with the most theatrical of cadences. Elsewhere, Gomez’s facility with intoxicating yet repellent characters stresses the ambiguity of David’s devotion and the longer any of David’s scenes last, the harder it is to tell whether he’s manipulating Adela or genuinely interested in her. There’s even the character-actress bawdiness that Charito Solis brings to Paula, Adela’s widowed aunt whose genuine affection for her niece belies her own exploitative tendencies, as she lives vicariously through the younger woman’s romance. Then, of course, there’s Soriano. Here she upsets common expectations by pushing Adela’s innocence to parodic levels before shifting into a tragic-heroine mode worthy of Philippine cinema’s greatest depictions of emotional despair. Ikaw Pa Lang ang Minahal is mysterious when it comes to characters’ intentions, but it’s downright confrontational in the brutal impact of its protagonist’s struggle for social acceptance. The finale, in which Adela finally gains agency in her life only by consciously walling herself up in the very home that previously served as her cage, is an act of cruelty perpetuated as much against herself as those who wronged her.

     This new digital transfer was created in 2K resolution from a 35mm master negative. The results are quite pleasing, but not as stunning. The high-definition presentation is a tad light on grain, but diffuses clarity. Romeo Vitug's cinematography still looks great thanks to deep blacks that heighten detail levels and enhance depth. Close-ups appear sharp showcasing fine facial features. Shadow delineation is good no nicks, marks or scratches mar the source material. Though this rendering certainly outclasses previous home video transfer, it falls just short of expectations. The stereo track sounds quite good. Ryan Cayabyab's romantic score gives his music plenty of room to breathe on both the high and low end. Dialogue is clear and well prioritized while subtle atmospherics nicely caress the action. Ikaw Pa Lang ang Minahal is a quiet, intimate film and thankfully no age-related hiss, pops, or crackle intrude during pregnant pauses or whispered exchanges. Though the audio doesn’t make a statement, its seamless integration into the film’s fabric makes it all the more impressive. Ikaw Pa Lang ang Minahal focuses on a painfully shy spinster’s fraught relationships with two men, her brilliant, aloof, often critical father and a dashing suitor who may or may not be after her fortune. It's an absorbing and beautifully photographed film that examines delicate relationships with maturity and insight.

Sound Director: Gaudencio Barredo

Production Designer: Raymond Baharias

Music By: Ryan Cayabyab

Edited By: Jess Navarro

Photographed By: Romeo Vitug

Screenplay By: Raquel Villavicencio

Directed By: Carlos Siguion-Reyna

     Sa Init ng Apoy (Trigon Cinema Arts, 1980) forgoes campy self-awareness in favor of reverential faithfulness. Demonic possession is revealed as a malevolent force with which newlyweds Laura (Lorna Tolentino) and Emil (Rudy Fernandez) must ultimately reckon. Before that confrontation can occur, however, Sa Init ng Apoy proves content to simply spend time in Laura’s company. And though she’s a rather one-dimensional audience proxy, Romy Suzara’s leisurely depiction of her exploring Casa Morteja, allows his story’s dread to slowly creep under one’s skin. If Suzara’s unhurried pace can occasionally be trying, his refusal to indulge in cheap jolt scares or force his protagonist to behave in ludicrously nonsensical ways elicits fear from a sense of macabre unease that spews forth among other moments, the caretaker’s (George Estregan) initial conversation with Laura and Emil, or their unsettled looks directed upward at an imposing face cut off by Suzara’s frame. Throughout, the director employs conventions with an assuredness that’s never tainted by look-at-me egotism, his fidelity to the genre marked by an admiration that carries through to the very, bloody end, which true to its forebearers is mildly anticlimactic, resorting as it does to images of monstrous satanic evil that can’t quite match what one’s own imagination had already cooked up. No matter. As evidenced by the care taken with its establishing chapters, Sa Init ng Apoy knows that, even with regard to hell, the destination isn’t half as terrifying as the journey.

     This is another impressive restoration, one that offers a nicely organic appearance and an incredibly lush palette (take a gander at some of the screenshots accompanying this review and pay special attention to primaries especially reds). Detail levels are often quite expressive and with the film's emphasis on ornate patterns, the precision of fine detail is especially notable. The opening sequence looked a tad rough and the grain field is fairly gritty looking throughout the presentation. There's also some minor and passing crush in a couple of dark scenes, including some night scenes toward the end of the film. That said, there are no real issues with compression and I noticed absolutely no damage whatsoever. The sound effects do tend to date the film, but I enjoyed them for their inherently quaint qualities. Both dialogue and the score by Jun Latonio are rendered with excellent fidelity and there are no problems in terms of damage or distortion. Sa Init ng Apoy makes the tangible scary and the intangible scarier, which the more explicit horror films rarely did.

Screenplay: Edgardo M. Reyes

Musical Director: Jun Latonio

Sound Engineer: Rolly Ruta

Cinematography: Ernesto de la Paz

Film Editor: Teofilo de Leon

Directed By: Romy Suzara

     Alajar registers every subtle change in Melissa’s body and mind as her condition worsens. You feel the despair of a musician whose abilities are taken away. The rage and humiliation when she discovers that Pete has betrayed her. Although Oropesa tends to overplay Pina's wanton behavior in her earlier scenes, she becomes increasingly effective as the character gradually settles down. Fernando infuses intriguing grace notes into his portrayal of the uptight Pete, who can't quite stand by his woman. Sytangco employs his natural charm to fine effect as Melissa's wannabe love interest. Romero is more vital and wholly believable as a fellow disease sufferer in just a couple of upbeat but sad, gasping scenes. Rodriguez clearly knows what he’s doing and has the actors to pull it off, but he’s tasteful to a fault. Great melodramas achieve the sublime by risking ridicule, something which Init o' Lamig does only once. Without that crucial element of exaggeration, the movie’s sappiness registers as, well, sappy. Pina shows Melissa how to be more assertive while Melissa teaches Pina about the importance of not letting opportunities pass her by. And yet, every now and then, it cuts to a close-up of Melissa’s hands struggling or her face as guests at a party shake her hands, making the viewer wish that Rodriguez was less restrained and more willing to use his practical-creative sense expressively. Init o' Lamig isn't entirely successful in avoiding a teleserye style predictability in its depiction of its central character's incapacitating illness. But its superb performances and emotional complexity ultimately elevate its familiar themes.

Art Director: Bobby Bautista

Sound Supervision: Rolly Ruta

Cinematography: Ricardo Remias

Film Editor: Edgardo "Boy" Vinarao

Screenplay: Baby R. Nebrida

Musical Director: Rey Valera

Directed By: Eddie Rodriguez

     Most romantic movies are so determined to chart the course of a love story, how boy meets girl leads to happily or unhappily ever after that they miss the intensity and import of beginnings. But Marilou Diaz-Abaya's Minsan Pa Nating Hagkan ang Nakaraan (Viva Films, 1983) lingers on the initial sparks of an emotional connection. The film captures a truth most others only imply, to meet a potential partner is also to rethink who you are, an invitation to shape and refine the self you wish to be. It’s not an exaggeration to say that almost every scene in the film feels pivotal, momentous, in much the way that the characters experience their attraction. Split-second decisions carry enormous weight, small gestures mean the world. Character-driven dramas are not supposed to make a show of backstory, but in the genre of romance focused on Helen (Vilma Santos) and Rod (Christopher de Leon), two people for whom the rest of the world has fallen away, there is nothing more natural than exposition. Much of Minsan Pa Nating Hagkan ang Nakaraan is devoted to defining these characters or rather to watching how they define themselves in streams of free-flowing but perfectly calibrated talk. With an ear for naturalistic dialogue, Abaya embeds several discoveries along the way most crucially, the catch that immediately lends its meandering conversations a heightened urgency.

     Abaya is working within the form of a traditional romance of missed opportunity and uses certain tropes expected of that kind of film to contain moments that are anything but traditional. We know that Abaya and her actors are working in a more intimate emotional realm than usual from the first conversation Helen and Rod share. This conversation is so specific and so unapologetically personal that even progressive audiences may feel uncomfortable. The writing and the acting aren’t stylized or at least they aren’t stylized in a manner that’s inappropriate to the context. Helen knows she’s pushed something in Rod, that they’ve done something with a level of intensity that challenges Rod’s comfortable, casual disengagement. This scene is Helen’s show, at least it is at first, as she’s stunned when she sees that Rod is willing to match her combative form. Rod startles Helen, allowing the real dance to begin. Minsan Pa Nating Hagkan ang Nakaraan would be worth seeing for the delicacy and perception of the opening ten minutes alone, but Abaya never allows the tone to falter. Every moment advances the push and pull between Helen and Rod, which represents the classic argument between two romantics who repress that romanticism in differing fashions. The film’s biggest triumph is a scene that begins as a wide shot and then slowly zooms into a tightly framed close-up. It signals an important moment of character development and delivers a powerful emotional surge for the audience. Tia Salud (Mona Lisa), off-screen yells at Helen's husband Cenon (Eddie Garcia) that is almost directed straight at the audience. In a brilliant masterstroke, Abaya drowns out a piece of key dialogue with on-screen noise. It results in a moment so private that not even the audience get to fully share it. Abaya's unadorned observational style means entrusting her actors with the sustained ebb and flow of scenes that are highly dependent on minutely calibrated nuances and the payoff is enormous. 

Sound Supervision: Rudy Baldovino

Production Design: Manny Morfe

Musical Director: George Canseco

Film Editor: Marc Tarnate, FEGMP

Director of Photography: Manolo R. Abaya, FSC

Screenplay By: Racquel Villavicencio

Directed By: Marilou Diaz-Abaya

     Fantastika with Wonder Woman (Prima Productions/Petersen Film, 1976) follows Fantastika (Pinky Montilla) and Wonder Woman (Alma Moreno) as they attempt to defeat an evil sorcerer with immeasurable powers. It's pure good against pure evil. A farcical premise but as the film progresses, you realize that it’s not the plot that matters but the jokes. Let’s start with the lead stars. Montilla has her eureka moment but is easily fooled. Yet, she carries all of this in stride and is never crestfallen, remaining unfazed and calm even when the odds are stacked against her. Montilla is a wooden performer but her genuine warmth and sincerity perfectly serves the preposterous nature of the role. Moreno, on the other hand offers a stilted and painfully forced performance as Wonder Woman. Sure, Fantastika with Wonder Woman is haphazard and unconventional, but then so is the entire movie. The performances from the villains are memorable and you can’t argue with the brilliant cast of actors who depict their key nemeses. Johnny Monteiro, Marissa Delgado, Celia Rodriguez and Odette Khan treat their characters like theatrical exercises. Fantastika with Wonder Woman is wild, absurd and ridiculous with acting that teeters from awful to over the top and a plot that is pretty nonsensical.

    Fantastika with Wonder Woman is something of a joke. Perhaps it wasn’t originally intended to be when it was first conceived, produced and then released. This is a favorite for those into bad cinema and I'll admit that a film this schlocky is quite fun to watch, even if it's just to admire how bad it really is.  Debates may rage on as to whether the creators of the film intended this to be a campy bad film or if they earnestly tried to make something good, but regardless of the conclusion, there isn't much entertainment to be found in anything other than the inanity of it all. None of this matters, and here's why. If the storyline had been played even faintly seriously, the film would have been a naff, self-important turkey. Fantastika with Wonder Woman is not designed to be taken seriously or to have allegorical connotations. The closest it ever comes to having any kind of message is in the big final showdown, with all the various people uniting against the evil sorcerer.

     Tongue-in-cheek humor prevails in Alyas Batman en Robin (Regal Films, Inc., 1991), a witty homage to the Dynamic Duo’s exaggerated exploits. The Caped Crusaders emerge when criminal masterminds The Joker and Paenguin wreak havoc in the city of Gotham. The film manages to embrace Batman’s inherent campness and potential for ridicule. Everybody involved in making the film, so it seems, understood the nature of the Batman they were trying to capture. From over-the-top acting to the energetic score and cut, the film manages to convey a singular vision. And sure enough, you will find yourself sucked into the world of this Batman. However, in order to enjoy Alyas Batman en Robin, one needs to realize that director Tony Y. Reyes’ take on the Bat is not meant to be taken seriously. The film doesn’t advance the storyline or explain the character. It serves more as a fun retrospective on the development of the Batman property.  In this version, Batman/Kuya is portrayed by funny man Joey de Leon. The best thing about his performance is the way he plays straight man to everything. Despite the wackiness around him, he always plays everything straight, delivering all of his lines with level headed clearness. Same goes for the way Kempee de Leon plays Robin/Kevin. While he does have a more naive sidekick persona, he plays his part with as most conviction as Joey does.

     The real noteworthy cast members are the villains. Panchito makes for a great Paenguin. He brings an air of sophistication to the part, as well as injecting it with a lot of energy. And speaking of energy, Rene Requiestas is off the wall with his portrayal of The Joker. Overall, the villain performances are great and probably the best part of the film. In spite of all the goofiness, the actors all managed to capture the core essence of each villain. There’s never a dull moment. Everything seems to fall naturally into place without any awkward shifts. Part of this is because of the insane nature of the film, almost nothing feels out of place, no matter how bizarre. This incarnation of the caped crusader was camp, fun and over the top. Alyas Batman en Robin used grandiose language bordering on the absurd, had a dead-pan expression and wore wonderfully camp costumes. There was also very little separating Kuya from his alter ego, effectively they’re one and the same. They speak the same, have the same mannerisms and share affection for Daily Sun journalist Angelique Legarda (Dawn Zulueta). Of course Batman also has a ton of gadgets, ones ranging from the useful to the downright inane. There’s also a sense that Batman’s a far superior force than his villainous counterparts. The fearsome duo’s target is world domination, but they perennially state their plan can’t be achieved as long as Batman’s in the way. Even when they seem to have the upper hand, they barely lay a scratch on Batman and he easily escapes their contrived traps, but there’s also a general sense of absurdity and farce.

     It's often the case that films we loved in our childhood don't hold up half as well when viewed again as an adult. Likewise it's very common to rediscover a film we hated in our teenage years only to find that we were completely wrong and that said pariah is actually a masterpiece. Bira! Darna Bira! (MBM Productions, 1979) is a more complicated example of this prolonged change of heart. Dodgy special effects, hammy acting, a nonsensical plot, the film reveals itself for what it really is, one of the most deliberately and thrillingly silly films ever to grace the screen. There is also some enjoyment to be derived from the fact that the film is helmed by the same man who made Ibong Lukaret (1975) and Ibilanggo si Neneng Magtanggol (1977). And for all the film's technical shortcomings, Tito Sanchez does direct very well. His compositions are good, the stunts and fights are well-choreographed, the characterization is memorable and most importantly, he captures the spirit of the original comics. The reason that Bira! Darna Bira! works so well, both as a comic adaptation and a film in general is that it is aware of the limitations of both its source material and the level of spectacle its budget allows. The film updates the characters a little, but otherwise the story plays out in exactly the same romping style of the original story.

     If we attempt to take Bira! Darna Bira! seriously, watching it as a proper superhero movie looking for deeper meanings in its talkier scenes, we'd last about five minutes before either bursting out laughing or giving up. The plot is totally ludicrous, requiring us to accept a load of unbelievable coincidences. By getting knowing laughs, Bira! Darna Bira! is a triumph or at least as close to one as we could expect. The fact that we laugh at it so lovingly is no accident, Sanchez manages to tap into the inherent silliness of the plot. It would be very easy to view Bira! Darna Bira! with disdain or contempt. Just as the film is directed with wit and intelligence while retaining a sense of humor and above all it's virtually faultless as a slice of pure entertainment. For all its faults and there are many, Bira! Darna Bira! is a triumph of both the sublime and the ridiculous. It's incredibly silly from start to finish and you just won't care.

     The art of a movie like Madrasta (Star Cinema Productions, Inc., 1996) is to conceal the obvious. When the levers and the pulleys of the plot are concealed by good writing and acting, we get great entertainment like Minsan, Minahal Kita (2000). When they're fairly well masked, we get sincere films like Hanggang Kailan Kita Mamahalin (1997). When every prop and device is displayed, we get Madrasta. The movie is really about Sharon Cuneta’s Mariel. Zsa Zsa Padilla is absent for much of the first half, until she turns up to see her grown-up children. Cuneta can create characters of astonishing conviction (Diane in Minsan, Minahal Kita). Here she has to be the voice of reason for the entire movie. There’s not a rest period where she just gets to be this woman. Every scene has a purpose, we're reminded of the value of those brief, quiet scenes in which directors like Lino Brocka take a beat and let us see the characters simply being. Madrasta has a certain tact. It wants us to cry, but it doesn't hold a gun on us and enforce its emotions with sentimental terrorism. Cuneta is immensely likable and Christopher de Leon seems caring and reasonable. We would have enjoyed spending time with them, if they'd been able to pull themselves away from the plot.

     I did some direct comparisons with my DVD and the improvements in terms of detail, clarity, depth and fluidity are quite remarkable. In fact, I believe that even on mid-size monitors the difference in quality can be striking because there are shadow nuances, fine details and highlights that are not present on the DVD release. The film's precise color scheme is also a lot more effective because saturation levels are improved and there's an entire range of new and expanded nuances. Some minor density fluctuations remain, but they are not introduced by questionable digital adjustments. I specifically want to mention that some are part of the original cinematography, while a few are inherited from the elements that were accessed during the restoration process. It is easy to tell that the audio has been remastered because stability and balance are outstanding. The score by Willy Cruz opens an extra dose of ambient flavor to the desired atmosphere. The dialog is clean, stable and easy to follow. Even after taking into consideration the film's many missteps, Madrasta still remains a worthwhile and honest drama that is able to portray the many dilemmas a family often must go through. While a few moments seemed to strain for melodrama, they were able to look like prime examples of unstrained subtlety.

Production Design: Jayjay Medina, PDGP

Sound Engineer: Arnold Reodica

Musical Director: Willy Cruz

Supervising Editor: Edgardo Vinarao, FEGMP

Film Editor: David G. Hukom, FEGMP

Director of Photography: Joe Batac, FSC

Screenplay: Ricardo Lee, Olivia Lamasan

Directed By: Olivia M. Lamasan

     Particularly in its early scenes, Director Jun Lana's Bakit Lahat ng Gwapo may Boyfriend?! (Viva Films, IdeaFirst Company, 2016) is extraordinarily funny. The film builds on theatrical direct-address conventions to the point of comic absurdity. Films with direct-to-camera narration, featuring characters who address viewers as if they are part of their universe, are rare for a good reason. Audiences immediately pay attention when they are directly spoken to, but there are downsides to having characters break the fourth wall. These moments draw attention to storytelling contrivances and shatter the window-to-another-world illusion that most filmmakers work hard to create. Kylie (Anne Curtis) has no qualms about turning to the camera and sharing a joke with the audience. She's a true flirt. Kylie bitches with a skill for camp comebacks. Curtis oozes irresistible warmth and humor that literally shape up the film's identity. Her witty remarks are always delivered on time with facial expressions that never feel forced. More importantly, a lot of the risky material becomes harmless precisely because of her perfect management of the funny and the truth. Dennis Trillo is excellent as Diego, the young and sensitive guy who is determined not to wear masks but routinely has to make compromises. Paolo Ballesteros' Benj is the only one who appears slightly out of sync, but his scenes with Curtis are nevertheless quite entertaining. Bakit Lahat ng Gwapo may Boyfriend?! could have been a seriously obnoxious farce full of clichés, fortunately, the film hits all of its targets with such precision, honesty and terrific sense of humor making it an absolute delight to watch.

     The movie's 1080p transfer is gorgeous. It's inherently soft, but details are refined within the image's constraints and context. Skin showcases an array of complexities with ease. Brick, stone and concrete architecture, and accents are home to a wide array of tactile, intimate textures. Heavy suit fabrics or more delicate garments are finely revealing. Colors lack vibrance, but they're exquisitely reproduced within the movie's intended appearance. Nothing particularly pops, but brighter accents stand apart and consistency reigns throughout. Black levels hold firm and reveal positive shadow detail. Skin tones appear accurate, only pushing warm when lighting demands. Compression artifacts and film flaws are few and far between. Soundtrack isn't action-movie engaging but it's well designed and executed. Music is thoroughly rich and detailed with positive instrumental definition, wide front stage spacing. The track carries a wide assortment of complimentary ambient effects throughout, often submerging the listener into the movie's setting. Bustle on the streets, background music and chatter and clatter at a restaurant and other small details richly involve the listener in each location. Bakit Lahat ng Gwapo may Boyfriend?! is a great comedy whose script offers far more than just outrageous camp.

Screenplay: Denoy Navarro-Punio, Renei Dimla, Ivan Andrew Payawal, Percival Intalan

Sound Engineers: Bebet Casas, Immanuel Verona

Musical Directors: Richard Gonzales, Jay Dominguez

Editor: Noah Tonga

Production Designer: Vanessa Uriarte

Director of Photography: Mackie Galvez

Directed By: Jun Robles Lana

     By opening the doom of an obsession analytically understood and predictable, Maging Akin Ka Lamang becomes a meditation on the “woman’s film” rather than a direct experience and skirts the depths and heights of the great tragedies of obsession. Rosita Monteverde embraces her martyrdom from the beginning. There is no dramatic conflict. Tolentino's Rosita begins as an outsider, intersecting with society only to seek a human form for her obsession. Brocka understands that such an obsession is not only magnificent but terrible, not only sublime, but selfish and cruel. He gave us, in the most deeply sympathetic “rejected lover” ever created, (Jay Ilagan's Ernie Azurin), the true measure of this cruelty. Their sense of the wholeness that is forfeited or lost by those who would defy society and live at its edge. They see, with ambivalence, the wholeness that is left behind, but they also see, with ambivalence, the obsession to which love and madness can lead. Loss and gain, the components of paradox, are simultaneously present in the vertiginous daring of style, whereas Brocka’s devotion to the truth has the effect of constantly justifying Rosita’s actions, redeeming them with gravity, without ever plunging her into the abyss of romantic folly and cruelty that might, paradoxically, have given her the dimension of greatness.

Sound Supervision: Vic Macamay

Production Designer: Edgar Martin Littaua

Musical Director: Willy Cruz

Screenplay: Jose Dalisay, Jr.

Film Editor: Ike Jarlego, Jr.

Director of Photography: Rody Lacap

Directed By: Lino Brocka

     At its best, Brillante Mendoza's Serbis (Centerstage Productions, Swift Productions, 2008) is a vibrant slice of life that establishes the theater as a living organism nurturing a society of outcasts. More than just a movie palace, the theater also serves as home for the family that runs it, with tiny, jury-rigged spaces scattered throughout its four floors. Three generations of the family live in the theater and the atmosphere has clearly affected the children, including Jewel (Roxane Jordan), a young woman striking erotic poses in the opening shot and Ronald (Kristofer King), a projectionist getting head from a tranny hooker. The matriarch Nanay Flor, a tough-willed woman played by Gina Pareño, out of the picture much of the time is wrapped up in a bigamy suit against her husband that's dividing the family in half. In the meantime, her daughter Nayda (Jaclyn Jose) minds the fort, presiding over the business while tending to other matters, like cousin Alan (Coco Martin) who's trying to dodge his pregnant girlfriend. But Serbis also has a three-dimensional vividness that makes it come alive. Although Mendoza didn't care to resolve all of the many subplots, the film gives a complete picture of a family, a business, and a city in disarray, and its looming fallout.

     Anyone who saw Serbis theatrically will know that it features a rather soft, often diffused image and that continues with this latest high definition release. The opening sequence looks distressingly soft, while not mind-blowingly sharp, it is certainly a major step up from the old DVD release. Fine detail is best in close-ups, as is to be expected, but some of the establishing shots of the theater and its inhabitants pop rather nicely, all things considered. Grain structure is also well intact and in fact some viewers may be bothered by some of the overly grainy sequences, especially in the more dimly lit scenes. The film does suffer from some noticeable edge enhancement and fairly consistent crush in the dark interior scenes. Serbis never had a very aggressive sound design and that lack of a wow factor carries through to the PCM stereo mix in the original Tagalog with burned-in English subtitles. There's nothing horrible about this mix in any way, shape or form, other than its obvious narrowness. Dialogue is crisp and clear and the evocative score sounds fantastic. The film is rather small scale, from a sound design standpoint and while a 5.1 repurposing may have added some space and depth to the crowd scenes inside the theater, there probably wouldn't have been much to gain from such a surround revision. Serbis feels too surreal and conceptual to be taken as docu-verisimilitude, but it doesn't need to settle for such conventions when every frame is alive, breathing dank sweat and sighing desperation. This house of sin and cinema runs by its own rules.

Sound: Emmanuel Nolet Clemente

Production Design: Benjamin Padero, Carlo Tabije

Editing: Claire Villa-Real

Music: Gian Gianan

Director of Photogrtaphy: Odyssey Flores

Screenplay: Armando Lao

Directed By: Brillante Ma. Mendoza

     Ang Lalaki sa Buhay ni Selya (Star Pacific Cinema, 1997) is very much a chamber piece. It has a strong cast which is sadly lumbered with dialogue that relies too often on well-worn clichés. It’s a low-key drama that works well in its quieter moments, the intimacy between the small cast is palpable at its crucial moments. There are some clunky character exchanges overly expositional dialogue or an extraneous exchange slightly cringeworthy soap-like chit chat, when a clever, quieter, more filmic sequence would have much more impact. Having said this, when Bibeth Orteza's writing is at its best, these problems are non-existent and the wonderful performances by the tightly-knit cast really comes through and definitely make up for a bit of bad dialogue. Rosanna Roces is strong as Selya, aware that something is unsettling her husband but unaware just what. Ricky Davao as Ramon is superb and carries most of the storyline. Director Carlos Sigiuon-Reyna keeps the plot boiling and everything teeters perilously close to soapy drama. He keeps the camera moving but the action fairly barrels along. Ang Lalaki sa Buhay ni Selya is a powerful film that doesn’t live up to its full potential.

     After it's recent restoration the entire film looks healthy and vibrant, boasting an exceptional range of beautiful primaries and excellent nuances. This makes the already striking cinematography look even more impressive and on a larger screen some of the outdoor visuals truly look quite magnificent. Depth and clarity remain very pleasing throughout the entire film, but I must mention that because of location and stylistic choices some minor density fluctuations can be observed. Typically the most obvious ones are during darker footage but even so, it is quite easy to tell that they are part of the original cinematography. There are absolutely no traces of problematic de-graining or sharpening adjustments. Image stability is excellent. The soundtrack incorporates a wide range of organic sounds and noises, so balance and separation are very important. Fortunately, the two-channel track serves the film really well. All of its basic characteristics are solid and without a whiff of age-related anomalies. Ang Lalaki sa Buhay ni Selya isn’t always an easy watch but it’s an interesting and emotional ride.

Original Sound: Joseph Olfindo, Rannie Euloran

Music: Ryan Cayabyab

Production Design: Joey Luna

Edited By: Manet A. Dayrit

Director of Photography: Yam Laranas

Written By: Bibeth Orteza

Directed By: Carlos Sigiuon-Reyna

        Like the brief relationship it portrays, Unfriend’s gut-punch emotional impact depends on just how unexpected its final trajectory is. The pitch builds slowly but with geometric progression, climaxing in an affective register that almost belongs to another genre entirely. The near-final scene would be a total cliché if it weren’t so entirely earned and so seamlessly, devastatingly perfect. I’m worried (really quite anxious) not to oversell the film, to create expectations when it depends so much on surprise. The surprise of this film is just how ambitious it is, how unhurried its characterizations are, surreptitiously setting up backstory that it patiently waits to pay off, how little self-regard the actors betray, never playing the subtext in their emotionally complex performances, how totally the script avoids spelling out its themes, staging a dialogue between its leads that’s of such unpretentious philosophical resonance that you don’t quite realize how exacting it is until long after you’ve seen the movie. There is a last-act revelation captured with ethnographic and empathetic precision in which Jonathan (Angelo Ilagan) and David (Sandino Martin) learn they’re connected in a way that neither had realized. Unfriend (Solar Entertainment, Center Stage Productions, BeyondtheBox, Inc., 2014)  is a film of constant anxiety and agitation. In other words a pretty fair approximation of the teenage mindset. Joselito Altarejos works wonders with crisply framed takes and two astonishingly sincere and nuanced performances. This is a film full of languid moments which are transformed by the context into instances of discovery and revelations of personality. David's outsider status is emphasized by the casting of Martin in the role. As the film wears on and David’s desperation to collapse his divided worlds into one becomes more acute, Martin’s almost ethereal difference becomes intrinsic to our understanding of the character.

     Unfriend looks even better, with a high definition transfer that near-perfectly reproduces Altarejos and cinematographer Arvin Viola's visual whirlwind of texture. The monochromatic scenes that open Unfriend are striking, with deep blacks and brilliant whites, evocative of early 1960s New Wave. Where Viola comes into his own, though, is the way he captures dingy rooms, kitchens lit with bare fluorescent bulbs and low-light nighttime exteriors. Colors are saturated, contrast is pumped and everything looks more real than real. The film's grain structure is fully intact, there's no evidence of digital manipulation of any kind and clarity is exceptional. While not as drastic an improvement as the picture quality, the film's soundtrack gets a significant bolstering thanks to a strong 2-channel mix. The sound design and overall clarity seem somewhat limited by the on-location source recordings, but acoustically there's a nice sense of place and the effects are clean. Voices can occasionally be overwhelmed by the chaos of their surroundings, but most of the dialogue is perfectly mixed. With Unfriend, Altarejos is rapidly becoming a crucial portraitist of the fragility of youth.

Screenplay: Zigcarlo Dulay

Director of Photography: Arvin Viola

Musical Scorer: Richard Gonzales

Film Editors: Zig Dulay, Joselito Altarejos

Production Designer: Lester Jacinto

Sound: Don San Miguel, Andrew Milallos

Director: J. Altarejos

     Although Pare Ko (Star Cinema, 1994) contains several scenes that are a great deal more dramatic, my favorite moments were the quiet ones, in which nothing was being said and nothing seems to be happening. To be able to listen to such silence is to understand the central dilemma of adolescence, which is that one's dreams are so much larger than one's confidence. Pare Ko is a movie that pays attention to such things. It contains some moments when the audience is likely to think, yes, being young was exactly like that. Pare Ko is a heartwarming and truthful movie, with some nice touches of humor. It contains most of the scenes that are obligatory in teenage movies, but writer and director Jose Javier Reyes doesn't treat them as subjects for exploitation, he listens to these kids. There are a lot of effective performances in this movie. Jao Mapa generates a pitch-perfect depiction of unraveling sanity and newfound passion. He's a treat here, maintaining emotional authority and crisp timing as Chipper. Mark Anthony Fernandez elevates Francis from a potentially offensive stereotype to high comedy. Also impressive is Jomari Yllana as Mackie, who captures exaggeration without abandoning his character's humanity.

     One of the best things in this new hi-def release is palette reproduction which captures nice elements like costuming. The entire transfer is on the soft side to the point that even some extreme close-ups don't offer fine detail. Outdoor or brightly lit scenes deliver the best detail, but even then softness is often pretty prevalent with gauzy, diffused and effulgent halos (not of the digitally sharpened variety) tend to tamp down detail levels. The grain field is also fairly variant in looking organic or even readily apparent, with again, the brighter scenes looking the best. Some of the darker scenes in fact flirt with compression hurdles that traipse around macro blocking territory at times. All of this said, there is still enough of a substantial uptick in palette and detail levels from the previous home video release. Pare Ko features a nice sounding 2.0 track. The film doesn't have that distinctive, instantly identifiable, score but offers a decent stereo spread at times. Sound effects land with overwhelming force and dialogue is always delivered clearly and with good prioritization. Reyes has it good with his cast and material, submitting one of his best efforts with Pare Ko which soars at times on sheer invention, making something different out of a genre that often spins with repetition.

Production Designer: Edel Templonuevo, PDGP

Sound: Ramon Reyes

Editor: George Jarlego

Musical Directors: Eric Antonio, Carlo Bulaan

Cinematographer: Ely Cruz, FSC

Written & Directed By: Jose Javier Reyes

     Kid Huwag Kang Susuko (Regal Films, 1987) is an exciting, sweet-tempered, heart-warming story with one of the most interesting friendships in a long time. From the directing team of Peque Gallaga and Lore Reyes, it ends with the same sort of climactic fight scene. But the heart of this movie isn't in the fight sequences, it's in the relationships. In addition to Sawi's (Richard Gomez) friendship with Mr. Tan (Jang Hwan Kim), there's also a sweet romantic liaison with Ogie (Rachel Anne Wolfe), your standard girl from the right side of town. When Sawi is rescued by Mr. Tan, who turns out to be an unlikely karate master from a savage beating exacted by Wrylo’s (Mark Gil) gang of hooligans, Mr. Tan resolves to teach Sawi the ways of karate. What works best in this film is not the glory of Sawi’s predictable victory.

     Actually, the fight scenes in the end consume little screen time, as though the script knows that Sawi will win no matter what, so why dwell on it? The fights are brief, not even the karate match between Sawi and Wrylo is dragged out too long for dramatic effect. We are more concerned about Sawi gaining enough confidence. As Mr. Tan teaches honor and balance where spirit and body are superior concepts to destroying everything in one’s path with a karate chop. Such principles are what one takes away from a viewing of Kid Huwag Kang Susuko, the violent aspects of martial arts are almost completely forgotten next to these values and so the film remains highly resonant on both emotional and moral planes. And even though it contains a dated quality and the conflict has been grossly exaggerated by inhuman antagonists, on its own and separate from what came after it, Kid Huwag Kang Susuko still works on a very basic level today.

     Two key elements lift Apocalypse Child (Skinny People Productions, Arkeofilms, 2015) beyond formula, at least for most of its running time. The particulars of the film's Baler setting, with its extreme natural beauty and the strength that the central character, played with quiet ferocity by Sid Lucero finds through surfing. Director Mario Cornejo doesn't give the story's contrivances their intended impact even with strong performances notably Ana Abad Santos's eye-opening turn. She nails the self-absorbed mother's tangle of parental sincerity and ineptitude, while diving fearlessly into Chona's desperately needy and often humiliating self-destructiveness. But there's a wild beauty to more than match the narrative's shortcomings. Much as Ford (Lucero) is most at home on the ocean, the filmmaking is most fluent when filtered through the silver glitter of the surf. Contemporary but eraless, the movie has a '70s feel, from the muted palette of the production design and costumes to the sun-washed light, movingly captured in Ike Avellana's camerawork. The undercurrent of foreboding in Armi Millare's gentle acoustic score is in sync with all the characters. But it's Ford's steady searching against the flailing of almost everyone around him that keeps the story afloat. It is the film’s great fortune that the leads are portrayed by an exceptional team of actors, starting with Lucero, who is the calm eye at the center of the storm. The bellows of this tempest come from Santos, who ably depicts the demanding neediness of the vulnerable matriarch. Yet Cornejo's filmmaking never rises to the level of his cast’s nuanced performances. The actors are energized, but the camera enervates. It alternates wanly between shaky close-ups and indifferent establishing shots.

     Apocalypse Child's 1080p transfer, like most new high definition releases is flawless. The image enjoys a perfectly filmic texture, a slight layer of grain accentuates the many splendid colors and quality details that are visible in every frame. Indeed, the transfer carries the many lush hues of Baler beautifully whether natural greens and sparkling blue waters or the many bright shades and accents found on surf boards, swim trunks and the like, the transfer leaves no color behind and displays each one with a naturalism that's second to none. Fine detailing is another strength, whether smaller little touches like grains of sand and foamy surf waters or more generalized facial and clothing details, the transfer sees each element through. A few nighttime scenes yield exquisitely natural blacks and while flesh tones appear to favor a warmish shade, they seem in-line with the expected coloring of people living much of their lives in the sun of Baler. Apocalypse Child's 5.1 soundtrack isn't as energetic and powerful, but it's nevertheless technically proficient and nicely absorbing. The film is more often than not a dialogue-intensive drama, the spoken word flows naturally from the center speaker but is flanked by ambience. The film's score enjoys pinpoint clarity, seamless spacing all over the soundstage and a heftiness that gives it full body without coming across as excessively or unnaturally heavy. Ambience, often coming in the form of crashing waves and the tranquility of beachside elegance flows effortlessly from side-to-side and front-to-back, effectively transporting the listener to the waters and sandy shores of Baler. It's not the most exciting soundtrack in the world, but the execution leaves nothing to be desired. In Apocalypse Child even the sea seems stifled.

Directed By: Mario Cornejo

Written By: Mario Cornejo, Monster Jimenez

Cinematographer: Ike Avellana

Editor: Lawrence S. Ang

Production Designer: Christina Dy

Sound Designer: Corinne de san Jose

Music: Armi Millare

     For all the romances the movies have given us, there are precious few that show two people gradually falling in love. Contemporary romantic comedies generally engineer a movie-long feud that builds to a climactic smooch, weepies go for insta-passion shorthand, the better to clear the way for whatever ludicrous tragedy its lovers have in store. And that makes sense as the realistic alternative with ardent feelings accumulating bit by bit over time, in a context devoid of manufactured conflict seems like it would be too politely dull to endure. All the same, that perfectly describes Olivia M. Lamasan's Minsan, Minahal Kita (Star Cinema, 2000). It's a beautiful star-crossed romance distinguished by an understated tone and perfectly modulated performances. Intelligent and refreshingly adult, the movie weaves a hypnotic spell as it tells the tale of two married people who develop a casual rapport and soon find themselves swept up in an unexpected and unwanted affair. Rarely has a film explored the spiritual side of love with such tenderness and perception and so successfully exuded the debilitating ache of unfulfilled longing.

     Most importantly, it's the performances which make Minsan, Minahal Kita such an unforgettable film. Sharon Cuneta is extraordinary, conveying with great subtlety and pathos, the torment of a love affair that takes possession of her character. The sense of aching loss she shows towards the end of the film is so real, it is almost unbearable to watch, a naked spectacle of desolation and anguish. Richard Gomez complements her well, displaying a mix of quiet strength and delicate warmth that's utterly believable. Minsan, Minahal Kita fully registers the surging of emotion. It is because the social pressures and the genuine appeal of conformity are both so meticulously realized, that the desire to love against the grain comes across so powerfully. Far from lacking emotion, the film is throbbing with it, but also registering that emotion cannot be pinned down, summed up, that emotion is overwhelming. That is why Minsan, Minahal Kita is not only a lovely film, but a vibrantly good film.

     The restoration work has produced very impressive results and the film looks spectacular in high-definition. Not only is depth and color stability substantially improved, but there are entire sections of the film where various small details have been revealed. Dirt and debris have been meticulously removed, leaving a clean image that allows us to fully invest ourselves in this heartbreaking tale. The audio treatment is very impressive. Clearly, during the restoration, various audio stabilizations have been performed while hiss, hum, clicks and pops have been removed as best as possible. As a result, the dialog is stable, crisp and easy to follow. This is another stellar effort that beautifully salutes this tender, uncertain romance.

Directed By: Olivia M. Lamasan

Screenplay: Ricky Lee, Olivia M. Lamasan

Director of Photography: Shayne Sarte-Clemente, FSC

Film Editor: George Jarlego

Production Design: Manny B. Morfe, PDGP

Musical Director: Archie Castillo

Sound Supervision: Ramon Reyes, STAMP

     Once Sara (Vilma Santos) and Eric (Ronaldo Valdez) meet, Karma (Sining Silangan, 1981) stumbles. Danny L. Zialcita and the cast never communicate what is so special about Sara and Eric’s love. On what level are the two connecting? All we know is that they are both attractive, involved with other people and like Elvis Presley's '60s version of It's Now or Never. We are essentially asked to accept their great love as a given simply because they are the leads in a romantic movie. When the two finally get to spend a day together, the film resorts to that most tired of romance movie clichés, the montage of the couple together outdoors. Zialcita shoots it all in soft focus, looking pleasant and romantic, but it feels like a lazy cheat, like Zialcita dodging having to write and show scenes of genuine bonding. As Eric, Valdez is sincere and that’s about it. There isn’t much for him to work with. Santos makes a better impression, she’s so beautiful and charming that it’s easy to imagine Eric wanting to be with her. She has some good moments in the early stages of the romance, displaying initial trepidation and caution which later gives way to an engaging sense of playfulness. Santos gets one of the film’s most memorable scenes, when Sara finally expresses her love for Eric. It’s one of the rare times a character speaks deeply from the heart. It successfully conveys the genuinely romantic tone most of the movie tries but fails to achieve and is a hint of what the film might have been. Chanda Romero works to bring shading to her role as Cristy, Eric's jealous wife but it’s all too obvious that she’s just there to be an obstacle for the lovers, a plot device in a natty suit and nothing more. Tommy Abuel has a more memorable turn as Sara's unforgiving husband Alfredo.

     Even with the film’s obvious shortcomings, it’s not hard to understand Karma’s appeal. What romantic wouldn’t be drawn to a tale of a pure love that transcends time, of lovers overcoming overwhelming obstacles to be together? It’s an attractive fantasy and the film serves it up with likable stars, lovely settings and music that could tug at the heartstrings of the coldest cynic. The film is unapologetically old-fashioned, a rarity at the time it was released and even more unusual now. These things make Karma special and worth celebrating and its flaws easy to overlook. L’Immagine Ritrovata’s extensive restoration is a dramatic improvement over the Viva Video DVD. The disc featured a noisy, grainy, pan and scan transfer that did the film no favors. This HD digital release finally gives the movie a worthwhile home video presentation with a beautiful, crisp and colorful transfer that is significantly less grainy while retaining a natural-looking film texture. Certain scenes appear soft, but this accurately reflects Zialcita and cinematographer Felizardo Bailen’s selective use of diffusion filters and is not a flaw of the transfer. The 2.0 audio won’t blow away anyone’s speakers, but the track is clear with good range and Gilbert Gregorio’s score comes across well in the mix. Although the film itself may be flawed, this is a superior high definition release that is highly recommended for incurable romantics.

Film Editor: Enrique Jarlego Sr.

Cinematographer: Felizardo Bailen

Music By: Gilbert Gregorio

Screenplay By: Danny L. Zialcita

Direction: Danny L. Zialcita

     Initially, the circumstances in Kasalanan Bang Sambahin Ka? (Viva Films, 1990) are innocent enough. Alex (Julio Diaz), a soon to be married executive goes on a date with Catherine (Vivian Velez), a stock broker. They're obviously attracted to each other, but when they move beyond the flirting stage to Catherine's apartment, where they make love on the stairs, the sex is explosively erotic, but at the same time, funny. Chito Roño knows how to give audiences their vicarious kicks. He excites them, then gives a little release by making them laugh. Alex and Catherine spend one night and part of the next day together in the way that one seldom does except in the first flush of a new love affair. Very quickly they establish an easy intimacy and in her head, Catherine is already making plans for the future. After one night, she falls in love, he doesn't. The movie, written by Jose Javier Reyes has a rock-solid premise although it's an odd one for a thriller, it works beautifully. Kasalanan Bang Sambahin Ka? has an inescapable pull to it, it's suffocatingly exciting. Roño's direction has seductive sharpness and precision. On the surface, the story is a female revenge fantasy, it's the expression of every woman's anger on the morning after a one-night stand when the lovemaking is over and the man has left and that empty, used-up feeling starts to creep in. But the movie takes the man's point of view, not the woman's, it's about the male fear of female emotions, their dread that casual pleasure-taking will turn into messy entanglements.

     All this, which adds up to make the point that there is no such thing as safe sex is banked into the subtext and because it builds on existing sexual fears, the movie may come across as being more serious than it is. Kasalanan Bang Sambahin Ka? is deep but only superficially. Roño is interested in ideas only to the extent that they buttress the thriller aspect of his story. But he's savvy in his titillating, manipulative way about sexual attitudes. He knows for example, that Alex's troubles with Catherine tighten his bond to his fiancée Grace (Dawn Zulueta). What this enables Roño to do is create a sense that something is at stake. Roño is particularly good at conveying the affection between Alex and Grace. But as Grace, Zulueta makes the job easy for him. She's spectacular here. The sexiest moment in the movie, in fact, isn't the one in which Velez and Diaz first make love, but the one in which Alex looks at Grace from across the table. Grace is presented as a model, modern woman, good-spirited, self-deprecating, efficient but she doesn't come across as a drudge. She's happy in her life, fulfilled. In other words, she's everything Catherine would like to be but isn't. Catherine has a career and just about nothing else. Clearly, the filmmakers would like us to see her as the down side of the women's movement, the woman who bought all the rhetoric and missed out on her chance for happiness. Whatever the history though, her fling with Alex pushes her over the edge.

     The part of Catherine is essentially that of a hysteric and it's not a flattering one, but Velez doesn't recoil from this woman or try to soften her. Velez plunges deep into this woman's derangement and her level of involvement gives it a greater validity, you can't just cross her off as a crazy. This is by far the most exposed Velez has allowed herself to be in her movie roles, she's never had this kind of forcefulness. The pain and anger in her portrayal are frighteningly potent perhaps because they're just an extension of the normal gut-wrenching awfulness everybody experiences when love affairs go sour. The rage she expresses is mythically feminine. Still, she's a profoundly unsympathetic figure. Strangely enough, the film's sympathy goes to Alex, even though he's the one who must suffer for his indiscretion. Alex isn't an exciting man, he's settled and a little complacent. That puts him right within Julio Diaz's range. He is skillful without really engaging you. I think he's wrong for swashbuckling parts, he's too average but he can convey goodness and he's sexy in a kind of nonthreatening way, he's decent. There are things wrong with Kaslanan Bang Sambahin Ka? Once the central situation is laid out, it evolves pretty much the way you thought it might. Also, presenting Diaz as such a nice guy robs the character of some of his vitality, a little darkness in his soul might have added another dimension. Roño screws things down pretty tight, though. This is a spectacularly well-made thriller. It's being as effective as it is may not, in the long run, be such a plus. It is an odd thing, really, the movie is sexy and at the same time a warning about the costs of sex. It contributes to the atmosphere of sexual paranoia. And is that something we really need?

Production Designer: Charlie Arceo

Cinematographer: Jun Pereira

Sound Supervision: Albert Rima

Film Editor: Joe Solo

Musical Director: Willy Cruz

Screenplay: Jose Javier Reyes

Additional Screenplay: Racquel Villavicencio

Directed By: Chito Roño 

     Although it is not pure exploitation, Paano ang Aking Gabi? (Seiko Films, Inc., 1986) comes close to being about nothing but sex. In effect, the entertainment value of this film comes completely from its sex sequences. The good thing about Paano ang Aking Gabi? is that there are only four major characters, Carina (Lala Montelibano) the mistress, her sugar daddy Florencio (Ronaldo Valdez), Soledad (Merle Fernandez), a spinster and kept man Rafael (Greggy Liwag). Everyone in the film is depersonalized. Carina thinks of her body as merchandise. Rafael enjoys sex with Soledad but has no feelings at all towards her, she is, in the language of feminists, a sex object. The focus of the plot is Carina’s problem, perhaps with a little of Rafael’s, but there is no need in terms of plot to dwell on Soledad’s problems. In terms of theme of course, Soledad is as much a major character as everyone else. As a director, Efren C. Piñon, clearly failed to motivate his actors properly since in other films, Ronaldo Valdez played similar characters competently. Greggy Liwag seems undecided about playing his part as a brooding young man or a dashing gigolo. Lala Montelibano’s portrayal does a disservice to her reputation as an actress of some talent and to the young girl’s characterization which may account for her conscious effort to be dramatic. A misconception that Piñon did not choose or know how to correct. All of her external manifestations only succeed to create an intolerable and unsympathetic character. 

     Of course she did not get much help from the screenplay, but has she striven for some interiority in characterization, the role of Carina might conceivably come off more credibly. The writers’ inability to come up with a more inventive plot development works against Montelibano’s character portrayal. In this case, the blame is split fifty-fifty. Similarly, Merle Fernandez is embarrassing. Soledad is supposed to be a woman who just started to live her life, torn by the realization that she is losing her lover to a much younger woman. That is a mouthful, even for an experienced actress. Fernandez, sad to say, just cannot cope. It is the direction, actually, rather than the writing, that is the root of the problem here. Longer and subtler sequences could have brought out the complex emotional problems encountered by the characters, especially Fernandez’s. But a film’s substance is judged by the coherence and integrity of its screenplay, the intelligence of the acting and the perception and control exercised by the direction. Paano ang Aking Gabi? exhibits marked flaws on the first two points and as for Piñon’s direction, it is mostly and merely functional.

Production Designer: Ben Payumo

Sound Engineer: Gaudencio Barredo

Director of Photography: Clodualdo Austria

Film Editor: Edgardo Vinarao

Music By: Snaffu Rigor

Screenplay: Joe Carreon, George Vail Kabistante

Directed By: Efren C. Piñon

     In the first episode of Beerhouse (Regal Films, Inc., 1977), director Elwood Perez takes us inside a bustling tenement and lets us watch Carol (Vivian Velez) and Lilian (Trixia Gomez). What we see is funny, insightful, banal, sad, tedious, informational, infuriating, everything but erotic. There is businesslike sex, upstairs in the bedroom between Carol and her clients and one after another sexual situation, but it would be difficult to find anything remotely sexy in those exchanges. That's exactly Perez's point and the grinding out of loveless love would be even more depressing if its purveyors weren't as lively as sharply funny and as interesting as they all are. Carol's place is also airlessly claustrophobic, a quality that grows on us as pervasively as it does on Lilian, it's only one of Perez's devices to give us a feeling of what her work is really like. Perez spins out the details of these women's lives cannily, but his real forte is his work with his actors. With Trixia Gomez's increasingly put-upon Lilian as the central force of his film and Vivian Velez's feisty and utterly irreverent Carol as its great set-piece, Perez has two performances that are unmatched in their simplicity, straightforwardness and strength. And the men? They're good and a few of them very good. Jordan Crisostomo is touching as the girl-shy Nonoy, so smitten by Carol he brings her the shirt off his back. Ernie Garcia appears as Nanding, the man who breaks Lilian's heart.

     The next segment has Jenny (Chanda Romero) and Tito (Freddie Quizon) making the transitional leap from their own paths in life, trying not to focus too much on the pressure that comes with it. Hanging precariously over them, however, is the weight of an unplanned pregnancy and a family that threaten to shatter their feelings for each other. While the narrative itself couldn’t be more timely, it’s the way in which the carousel of relationships that exist around the lives of Tito and Jenny connect as a whole that lends an air of noble honesty to the episode. It’s a rare treat to watch characters so nakedly unvarnished interact and play out a story that is identifiable and genuine while dealing with the emotional impact of such weighty issues as abortion and depression. At the heart of the movie are Tito and Jenny and the film simply wouldn’t work without the natural chemistry between them. There’s a tender naiveté to the way their feelings develop, an innocence and charm about how they view life and the potential it holds. This is an affectionate low-key drama that touches all the right notes without ever resorting to over sentimentality. Don’t be put off by the mournful subject matter as the story that it’s built around is an altogether more sensitive affair.

     From the final segment’s opening scene, Perez pulls us into the seedy and repugnant life of Rosario (Charito Solis), completely devoid of morals, chastity and self-respect. Despite the subject matter, Perez's sophisticated hand gives us the ability to see Rosario with a motherly concern rather than immaterial disgust. We see the world through her eyes as Perez holds the camera on her face, allowing us to completely take in her thoughts and emotions. What will become of Rosario who has seen and done such things? Jomari (Eddie Gutierrez) slowly becomes the hero we hope can eventually end the madness. Jomari convinces us that he can save Rosario from despair. Solis, as Rosario is seamless and flawless. She gives a very textured performance of a mother torn between the love for her daughter, the struggle to succeed and the need for caring and support. Her role consists of several multi-faceted characteristics, mother, hooker and businesswoman, yet she convinces us in each one. The task asked of Cherie Gil is a mighty one, Corazon is tragically suspended somewhere between pre-pubescence and adulthood yet Perez capitalizes on Gil's screen presence and beautifully innocent charm. I was constantly expecting a tragic event to go down until I finally realized that the tragedy was the situation itself. Perez carefully served up the tale of a mother in a lifestyle we don't want to know exists. They feed us with just enough information to finish out Rosario's life according to our own hopes, desires and emotions.