SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     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.

     The slums of Tondo crush the titular heroine of Lino Brocka's Insiang (Cinemanila Corporation, 1976), a young woman trapped in an environment of destitution and abuse which she can only struggle against violently and vainly. Brocka's portrait of familial treachery and societal abandonment channels its melodrama through the filter of neorealism, its story's heightened emotions kept at a simmer yet meticulously composed. Certainly, the root of her misery extends all the way home where her mother Tonya (Mona Lisa), bitter about her husband's departure, kicks her financially strapped in-laws to the curb so her young lover, Dado (Ruel Vernal) can move in before proceeding to badger her daughter into a Machiavellian rage. Beset by maternal resentment, her boyfriend Bebot's (Rez Cortez) callousness and Dado's rapist tendencies, Insiang (Hilda Koronel) plots her revenge with Brocka expertly dramatizing the understandable, if not prudent reasons for each character's behavior. What registers forcefully throughout isn't Insiang's literal plot twists and turns as much as the pervading mood of lonely powerlessness and the reactionary impulse to strike back against intractable forces and situations by any means necessary. It's an undercurrent conveyed by Koronel's guileless countenance and Brocka's unaffected depiction of the impoverished setting and its beleaguered inhabitants. Insiang's defiant actions cast the film as a lurid ode to feminist self-actualization. But with the misery-wrought finale and its tangled knot of obstinate, volatile, unfulfilled feelings and desires, Brocka ensures that any minor triumph enjoyed by his morally and emotionally warped protagonist is tempered by an overriding dose of bittersweet sorrow and despair.

     Frequent Brocka collaborator, cinematographer Conrado Baltazar shot the film in the open-matte 1.37:1 aspect ratio making sure to leave room at the top and bottom of the frame to facilitate a full image, though a boom mike can be seen in one scene which leads me to believe that the film was framed incorrectly. Ironically, Insiang was released on DVD by Cine Filipino in its preferred format, lopping off the top and bottom in order to decrease the width of the black bars when viewed on 16x9 screens. Baltazar's camerawork combines gritty naturalism with core noir elements to produce a stunning image that's always been difficult to reproduce in the home video realm. Martin Scorsese's World Cinema Project however, has done a spectacular job, creating a new digital transfer in 4K resolution from the original camera negative. Here, the realism is uncompromised, with medium grain enhancing the slum setting and rough exteriors. Some of the solid backgrounds appear a little noisy at times and a few scenes suffer from a nagging bit of softness, but on the whole, the image is clear and well modulated. Close-ups caress Mona Lisa's iconic face and Koronel's unspoiled loveliness. Without a doubt, Insiang has never looked better and this superior effort makes an unforgettable film even more powerful. Dialogue can be problematic at times, bass frequencies are strong, nuances are also a bit more pronounced, but they seamlessly blend into the film's fabric. Criterion’s high-def presentation features a top-notch video and audio transfer, and fascinating extras to make every viewer an authority on this classic film. Like the best movies, it satisfies on many levels, forcing us to think about and reflect on a variety of substantive themes. It also inspires unabashed admiration for the sheer talent on display in front of and behind the camera. Insiang is one of the truly great Filipino films and an absolute must own.

Art Director: Fiel Zabat

Sound Supervision: Rudy Baldovino

Screenplay: Mario O'Hara, Lamberto E. Antonio

Director of Cinematography: Conrado Baltazar, F.S.C.

Film Editor: Augusto Salvador

Music: Minda D. Azarcon

Direction: Lino Brocka

     The heroine of Mario O'Hara's Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos (NV Productions, 1976) is a creature of contradictory attributes that isn't easy to imagine in the flesh. Rosario would seem too oversized to be embodied by any actress, even by an actress of extraordinary resourcefulness and versatility. Nora Aunor has already established herself as a performer of that caliber, but nothing in her earlier work fully anticipated Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos. Aunor accomplishes the near-impossible, presenting Rosario in believably human terms. In a role affording every opportunity for overstatement, she offers a performance of such measured intensity that the results are by turns exhilarating and heartbreaking. There is hardly an emotion that Aunor doesn't touch in this movie and yet we're never aware of her straining. This is one of the most astonishing and yet one of the most unaffected and natural performances I can imagine. Conrado Baltazar photographs Aunor excellently. To begin with, she looks more translucently beautiful than ever and what Aunor has wrought, with O'Hara's help, is a psychological verity for Rosario that she reveals through patterns of motion. She seems to be shunning the close scrutiny of others. Yes, she often faces people, often embraces, converses with them, but the overall impression of her movement is sidling, gently attempting to hide herself in open space. Through this kinetic concept, Aunor gives Rosario an aura of concealment. Sometimes O'Hara hands the picture over to Aunor. The camera fixes on her in medium close-up and virtually without any change of shot, she tells a story. It’s what Ingmar Bergman has done a number of times with Liv Ullmann and it’s been done before with Aunor.

     Presented in an aspect ratio of 1.33:1 and granted a 1080p transfer, Mario O'Hara's Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos was restored in 2016 by L'Immagine Ritrovata in Italy and the digital transfer was created from the surviving 35mm print deposited at the Cultural Center of the Philippines. I find the new appearance of the film unconvincing. There is an entire range of color values that effectively destabilizes the film's native dynamic range and in many cases even collapses existing detail. Plenty of the darker/indoor footage convey very specific digital flatness that gives the film a distracting artificial quality. Grain exposure is unrealistic although I have to make it clear that without the anomalies described above the visuals would have been quite wonderful. Image stability is very good. Debris, cuts, damage marks, stains and other standard age-related imperfections have been carefully removed. There is only one standard audio track on this release, Tagalog LPCM 2.0 with optional English subtitles for the main feature. Excluding one short segment where a light echo effect appears during the exchanges, clarity and stability are otherwise excellent. The music is nicely balanced as well. Dynamic intensity is limited, but given the organic nature of the original sound design this should not be surprising. Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos is so perfectly cast. A fine, absorbing and wonderfully acted movie about three people who flounder in the bewilderment of being human in an age of madness. Watching it is quite an experience.

Art Director: Vicente Bonus

Film Editors: Ike Jarlego, Jr., Efren Jarlego

Director of Photography: Conrado Baltazar, F.S.C.

Music By: Minda D. Azarcon

Written and Directed By; Mario O'Hara

     Maria (Blackops Studios Asia, Viva Films, 2019) paints its setting in broad strokes. The film’s action takes place in a generic space occupied by stilted characters. Two assassins, Kaleb (Ivan Padilla) and Victor (KC Montero) trade wince-inducing banter while waiting for new assignments from their father, Ricardo de la Vega (Freddie Webb), head of the BlackRose cartel. Interacting with them all is Lily/Maria (Christine Reyes), a woman who’s introduced via a series of images that reduce her to flashing brown eyes and pursing lips. In fact, Erik Matti’s Buy Bust (2018) stands out as the closest analog to this film, yet the comparison to Matti’s freewheeling, deconstructionist take does this lugubrious thriller no favors, as director Pedring A. Lopez doesn’t so much as dust off the cobwebs from the tropes he recycles throughout. Maria’s actors are awkward and stiff in trying to project hard-boiled cool and all while delivering lines that sound as if they had been passed multiple times through an online translation tool. Even Reyes, a master of the cat-who-ate-the-canary grin is unable to fill the gaps left by the film’s unambitious screenplay. With the exception of her initial interactions with Kaleb, Lily/Maria offers nothing deeper than perfunctory poses. Chasing after a quick and painless death, Kaleb picks up on her true nature and discusses the possibility of expediting her demise. As Kaleb mull the pros and cons of his plan, the film suddenly feels uniquely sardonic and almost poignant. But then another hollow twist kills the mood, reducing even this exchange to more grist for the mill of Lopez’s lifeless genre gamesmanship.

     Maria was shot digitally by cinematographer Pao Orendain. The frame is routinely awash in brightly fluorescent blues, reds, greens, oranges and yellows with different hues often competing for attention. Alternating shadows and streaks of bright light scream while there's barely a natural flesh tone in sight. Fine detail is superior where it's intended to be visible (mostly in closeups) but routinely fades into darkness or is blown out by intense brightness. However, the image is not without flaws. Occasional banding appears, but it's minor and brief. More serious is the subtle but frequent background noise in the riotous clashes of colors and these recur in irregular background streaks throughout the film. They will be more or less obvious depending on the size of your display and its settings,and they are fleeting enough to pass without major distraction. Maria's 5.1 soundtrack is loud and you may find it necessary to turn down your customary volume setting by a few db. It's not the sound effects which are effective though relatively modest, but the score by Jessie Lasaten has been mixed to fill the entire speaker array, pulsing and throbbing as it does its best to rise to the level of the overcooked visuals. To the sound mixers' credit, the dialogue never gets buried, remaining intelligible and firmly anchored to the front but, like the bright colors and odd angles onscreen, the soundtrack is working overtime to knock you sideways with suspense and foreboding in a film where nothing much happens and the ultimate reveals aren't worth the wait. Lopez shows promise as a visual stylist, but he needs a gifted screenwriter. Maria is a potentially interesting experiment betrayed by the weaknesses of a derivative script. If you're curious, stream it, given the unfortunate overcompression.

Directed By: Pedring Lopez

Written By: YC Carbonell, Rex Lopez

Music By: Jessie Lasaten

Director of Photography: Pao Orendain

Edited By: Jason Cahapay

Production Design: Raymund 'Diong' Fernandez

Sound: Albert Michael M. Idioma

     Conditioned by a wealth of less imaginative and empathetic movies, one awaits the histrionics as a tension breaker. But the actors and director Cholo Laurel understand grief as a great, often outwardly inexpressible ache that resembles an unending subliminal slideshow of what will never be. The moments that would naturally invite heartbroken fireworks. Nasaan Ka Man (ABS-CBN Film Productions, Inc., Star Cinema, 2005) is about love and grief as rifting confirmations which logically informs life with an unmooring sense of fragility and what the justly celebrated editing, a feat of prismatic expressionism, is conveying. The symbols that Laurel and his editor juggle are often surprisingly hokey given the film's formal sophistication. The harbingers of doom are the stuff of old wives' tales, but they're layered and scrambled in a puzzle-box manner that renews them of their urgency. The editing (not only of image, but intricately of sound) is pointedly showy to the extent that even casual viewers will notice its contradictorily fluid yet jagged dexterity. It's meant to be violating, because we're supposed to feel as if we're slightly apart from the story. Nasaan Ka Man is an intangibly melancholic film that feels as if the bottom is always about to drop out of it. Not only brilliantly edited, it's also one of the great illustrations of the relationship between editing and performance. The former provides a slightly rotted, debauched, intellectualized framework that the latter invests with heartbreakingly understated moments of tender, searching humanity.

     There are no visible traces of electronic sharpening that affected detail and depth in this newly restored high definition transfer. Various density fluctuations remain in areas of the film where light is captured in specific ways. Minor contrast variations are present, but they are also part of the original cinematography. Colors are stable and natural, and I would specifically like to mention that here, they are slightly better saturated as well. The general flatness present on the DVD release is also a byproduct of compromising digital corrections. Overall image stability is excellent, and there are no large debris, cuts, damage marks, or stains. The encoding is very good, but I did notice some extremely light shimmer trying to sneak in during a short sequence early into the film. The stereo track is excellent. I did some direct comparisons with the Dolby 2-channel audio from the DVD and clarity and depth are identical. There is good range of nuanced dynamics that allow the score to shine in all the right places. The dialog is stable and easy to follow. All in all, this is a strong organic presentation of Nasaan Ka Man as the improvements in quality are quite dramatic. Laurel is careful in the way he approaches the material. There is an underlying current of suspense and even though the story's trajectory makes sense in hindsight, it is unpredictable.

Directed By: Cholo H. Laurel

Screenplay: Ricky Lee, Rafael Hidalgo

Cinematographer: Charlie Peralta

Production Designer: Jon Cuyson

Film Editor: Marya Ignacio

Musical Director: Jessie Lasaten

Sound Engineer: Addiss Tabong

     Empathy comes naturally to Lino Brocka, director of the overpoweringly intimate Cain at Abel (Cine Suerte, Inc., 1982). Working with screenwriter Ricardo Lee, he skips among his two protagonists without losing the story’s pulse. Every narrative beat is also a heartbeat. Christopher de Leon's tautness radiates strength, single-mindedness is Ellis' goal. As much as I like Phillip Salvador, I’ve often found him fuzzy, as if he’s wary of losing control. Is that why he’s so affecting here? The dissolute Lorenz turns out to be as tightly wound as his younger brother, only too scared to focus, he looks pitifully vulnerable. Baby Delgado has the kind of role that turns actresses into dullards, the wife who stands and looks stricken at her man in paroxysms of rage and grief. But she’s so grounded that as the others carry on, your eyes keep drifting to her, it’s her immediacy that keeps you glued to her face. In the role of Rina, Cecille Castillo is not as dazzling, but she doesn’t have to exaggerate her naïveté. Brocka’s actors work with their intellects fully engaged and they engage us on levels we barely knew we had. Cain at Abel pulls you so deep, so fast. You never catch Brocka or Lee grandstanding, only observing. Cinematographer Conrado Baltazar uses color to convey inner states without calling attention to itself and Efren Jarlego’s editing in two fraught dinner-table scenes is so exquisitely calibrated it’s as if the cuts were generated by the characters’ psyches. The crosscurrents keep you scanning the frame for Brocka's subtly vibrating features, each with their own distinct reaction.

     Now, as to the 1080p transfer, it's good, but not quite elite. Black levels fluctuate between appearing a little too heavy-handed in spots, revealing a fair bit of evident crush, but looking inky and sturdy in other scenes. The beginning of the movie looks particularly overwhelmed by crush. The transfer is marred by excessive film grain, but the image is nevertheless a hair soft throughout and detailing generally ranges between adequate and good, favoring the latter. Facial textures are nicely intricate, but a somewhat flat overall image doesn't allow the smaller nuanced details to spring to life. It features an inconsequential amount of banding and no perceptible blocking. The restoration could stand to be a little less soft and show a little more detail, but for the most part it's a solid, if unspectacular, hi-def image.The audio is presented in 2-channel PCM, but the original stems are the weakness of this soundtrack. Overall, the sound is band limited, but none the less quite pleasing for an 80's mix. Gunshots sound just a bit anemic, lacking body and weight. The score by Max Jocson wraps pleasantly creating an enveloping quality. Overall the score fares better than the dialog and sound effects. Cain at Abel is far from flawless. The scenes leading up to the key moment are a little lackluster and Lorenz may appear to be the perfect family man, but in drama, as in life, appearances can be deceiving.

Screenplay: Ricardo Lee

Cinematography: Conrado Baltazar, F.S.C.

Music; Max Jocson

Film Editor: Efren Jarlego

Production Design: Joey Luna P.D.G.P.

Sound Supervision: Rudy Baldovino, Willy Islao

Directed By: Lino Brocka

     Whistleblower (Unitel Productions, Quento Media, 2016) may not be as dramatically coherent or gripping, but its revelations are, if anything, more devastating and far more immediate than the dirty deeds uncovered in most political dramas. For all its high-mindedness, the screenplay by Rody Vera lurches between shrill editorializing and vagueness while sorting through more characters than it can comfortably handle or even readily identify. Nora Aunor, as always is an engaging presence, she excels in socially and politically conscious roles, yet her natural strength is blunted by the script’s numerous weaknesses. As written, Zeny Roblado is hopelessly out of her depth. Cherry Pie Picahe is sensational as Lorna Valera. She holds the ground in a performance of ferocity and feeling. For a movie about victims trapped in an unjust system, Whistleblower is surprisingly vague when it comes to procedural detail. Corruption is everywhere. Unfortunately, director Adolfo Alix, Jr overplays his hand. He fails to maintain a consistent tone. The movie never develops any dramatic momentum or pull. It swings from melodrama to sermonizing, both blunting the human drama that needs to come to the fore. Whistleblower is just a procession of scenarios and discoveries, capped off by a wildly frustrating ending.

     The film is kind of an interesting viewing experience in high definition. There's an almost dowdy aspect (for lack of a better term) to the palette here with an emphasis on browns and grays that keeps things from ever really popping in any meaningful way. Alix and cinematographer Albert Banzon have also toyed with the image at times, offering what often looks at least slightly desaturated (and at times more than merely slightly), as well as adding intentional distressing to the flashback scenes. The presentation here is always beautifully organic, detail levels are routinely high even given the surplus of rather dimly lit interior environments. Whistleblower's PCM track is often surprisingly immersive, given the dialogue heavy emphasis of the film. Jessie Lasaten's pulsing score fills the front channels quite nicely throughout, with a number of well done effects. Several outdoor scenes also offer good placement of ambient environmental effects. Dialogue is always rendered cleanly and clearly on this enjoyable if often quite subtly designed track. Whistleblower could use some narrative tightening, but it avoids most of the usual didactic pitfalls and makes its case while being entertaining and emotionally powerful. The film looks and sounds excellent on high definition, but I'm not so sure it's something you'd want to watch repeatedly.

Sound Design: Alexander Red

Music By: Jessie Lasaten

Edited By: Ike Veneracion, Aleks Castañeda

Director of Photography: Albert Banzon, FCS

Production Designer: Gerry Santos

Written By: Rody Vera

Directed By: Adolfo B. Alix, Jr.

     The difference between Sherwin (Arnold Reyes) and Paolo (Oliver Aquino) form the dramatic backbone of Joselito Altarejos' Kasal (MahusayKolektib, 2014). It is not just that they disagree about gay marriage, or that Paolo is more assertive than Sherwin, who dislikes drawing attention to himself. Their arguments, affectionate but intense reflect contrasting personalities and the friction is what makes them such an interesting couple. Each one, without quite saying so, is grappling with basic questions about love and identity. What can I mean to another person? Whom do I want to be with? Who do I want to be? The longer you spend inside Kasal, the more it seem apparent. Reyes and Aquino are, of course, incredibly attractive people who, despite their characters’ hang-ups and foibles, are approachable and easy to watch. The recitation of physical acts creates both immediacy and distance, it can be more embarrassing to talk about some things than to do them which is part of Paolo’s intention. A less brave, less honest movie would hasten to provide answers, assuming that the lovers require promises and that the audience needs reassurance. Kasal, which is about the risks and pleasures of opening up emotionally in the presence of another, remains true to the unsettled, open-ended nature of the experience it documents. And for exactly this reason because Altarejos avoids the easy payoff of either a happy or a tragic ending, Kasal is one of the most satisfying love stories you are likely to see.

     Because the film was shot on digital video, some contrast and clarity fluctuations are occasionally present. The majority of the close-ups, however, convey pleasing depth. Most of the outdoor footage is also relatively crisp. Colors are stable, but during the nighttime sequences the blacks and browns look a bit soft. This softness, however, is a source limitation, not a transfer weakness. Overall, compression is better here, but once again I noticed some extremely light banding. Lastly, there are no serious stability issues to report in this review. Considering that Kasal is primarily a dialog-driven feature, the fact that the soundtrack's dynamic range is fairly limited isn't surprising. Only during the party scenes there is some notable dynamic movement, but the film's sound design is indeed very modest. The dialog is clean and stable. What separates Altarejos' Kasal from other similarly themed films is its genuine sincerity. But I think that most viewers will appreciate the fact that the film does not rely on old cliches to deliver its message.

Directed By: Joselito Altarejos

Screenplay: Zig Dulay, Joselito Altarejos

Director of Photography: Mycko David

Production Designer: Harley Alcasid

Music: Richard Gonzales

Sound: Andrew Milallos, Addiss Tabong

Editing: Zig Dulay, Joselito Altarejos

     Lumayo Ka Man sa Akin (Seiko Films, Inc., 1992) plays like a showdown between its style and story. Johnny Delgado is Jaime, a powerful, brutal man surrounded by killers and henchmen who lowers his guard to allow Raul (Richard Gomez) into his inner circle. Raul knows Jaime has an unsavory reputation, but he doesn't plan to get involved in his business. That's before he meets Jaime's young wife, the love of his life, Stella played by Gretchen Barretto. The establishing scenes are effective, the director, Laurice Guillen knows what she's doing and we understand that Jaime has made a deliberate decision to lift his ruthless guard to allow his new friend inside. Then elements of an idiot plot begin to appear. It is absolutely clear to us, but apparently not to Raul and Stella that Jaime and his men know everything that goes on.

     In Lumayo Ka Man sa Akin, Stella is seen as merely a pawn in this contest between the men. She is Jaime's property, Raul comes sniffing around and then she's mauled and thrown aside so that the real story, the showdown between the males can begin. This contest, which leaves not a single blood-soaked possibility of violence unexplored, leads up to a sick sequence in which Jaime asks for an apology and receives one from Raul whom he trusted but offended by sleeping with his wife. No mention of an apology to Stella. It's possible to respond to this material in more than one way. On the one hand, Lumayo Ka Man sa Akin is a well-made movie, directed by Guillen with the eroticism she brought to Init sa Magdamag (1983) and the melodrama of Kung Mahawi Man ang Ulap (1984). It contains Johnny Delgado's best performance in a long while, tough, subtle, convincing. The action scenes are well-handled and we believe the attraction between Gomez and Barretto, two very silly people who think that they can put one over Delgado.

Sound Supervision: Gaudencio Barredo

Production Design: Guillermo Sancha

Edited By; Efren Jarlego

Musical Director: Willy Cruz

Director of Photography: Edurdo F. Jacinto, F.S.C.

Screenplay: Olivia M. Lamasan

Directed By: Laurice Guillen

     Captivating while remaining unvarying in tone and pace, acted with seamless naturalism and attention to detail, elegantly photographed (by Felizardo Bailen), edited (by George Jarlego) and costume design (by Christian Espiritu who enhanced the movie's subtle characterization through costume), Danny L. Zialcita's Nagalit ang Buwan sa Haba ng Gabi (Essex Films, 1983) seems flawless. Which isn’t to say that it doesn’t take risks even within its own set of conventions. Dindo Fernando and Laurice Guillen are superb as Miguel and Delza Almeda, the compromised couple who agree to an arrangement that’s certain to dissatisfy them both, but beats any foreseeable alternative. It is with these characters that we get to the core of the movie. In a world where everyone loses eventually, they are still survivors. They survive by accommodating themselves to life as it must be lived. Nagalit ang Buwan sa Haba ng Gabi is not about the loss of love, but about its absence.

     While a valuable addition to the high def library of any Zialcita fan, Nagalit ang Buwan sa Haba ng Gabi suffers from many of the same problems that plagued last year's blu-ray release of Lino Brocka's Insiang, namely, a full-frame transfer. The 1.33:1 aspect ratio does not accurately render the film in its original theatrical release, although since the 1.85 ratio in theaters was matted, this is not a pan-and-scan transfer. Black levels fluctuate, ranging from wonderfully deep and dark to sometimes washed-out which flattens the image considerably. Colors are intense, often blurring out and suffering from excessive noise, it only looks marginally better than standard-def. Detail can still be exceptional, especially in close-ups, where faces are briskly clear and well defined, but the overall look too often disintegrates into a sort of mushy blandness, with washed out fuzziness. Likewise, there's very little source material to support the 2-channel mix. This is one of the most resolutely non-immersive tracks in recent memory. Even the opening party scene is weirdly anchored in the front channels. All of that said, dialogue is clear and directional and the score is consistent and well mixed into the proceedings. Fidelity is excellent, with good dynamic range. What resonates in Nagalit ang Buwan sa Haba ng Gabi are the scenes where Zialcita simply focuses on the indignities of the heart, those forces that lead otherwise sane people to veer off into emotional dead ends.

Screenplay: Danny L. Zialcita

Sound Supervision: Rudy Baldovino

Cinematography: Felizardo Bailen, FSC

Music By: Phillip Monserrat

Film Editor: George Jarlego

Directed By : Danny L. Zialcita

     Kung Mangarap Ka't Magising (LVN Pictures, Inc., 1977) comes close to perfection. Inspired casting and performances, exquisite design and photography, a witty and well-crafted screenplay, empathic yet nuanced direction. The film never flags from the opening title sequence to the closing ballad Umaga Na Naman, the music in between, integrated into the narrative rather than imposed upon it, reflects the loving attention to detail that informs the movie throughout. Mike de Leon shows great affinity for the material, a director with a gift for making flawed characters likeable. Everyone in the film, no matter how brief his or her part, comes across fully formed and gets the little things right. Detail and clarity have benefited from the restoration with excellent stabilization improvements. There are minor contrast fluctuations and a few shaky transitions but this is the most stable and balanced presentation of the film that I have seen to date. The high-quality scanning has ensured that grain is evenly distributed throughout the entire film. Many of the outdoor sequences, for instance, look quite beautiful. Unfortunately, there are also traces of light filtering corrections. As a result, image depth isn't as impressive as it should have been. In select areas the filtering corrections have also affected the balance between blacks and grays. Natural fading also contributed in a couple of sequences, but the effect is very different. As a result, existing detail has been lost introducing some flatness to the image. Despite the sporadic unevenness it is difficult not to agree that this is the best Kung Mangarap Ka't Magising has ever looked. However, the film could have been absolutely magnificent on high-def.

     Clarity and depth are good, although there are segments where it immediately becomes clear that time must have irreversibly impacted the native qualities of the surviving elements because some small fluctuations remain. These can range from sporadic thinning of the audio to weaker than usual high-frequencies. On the other hand, it is very possible that some additional work was done to further attenuate hiss and other noticeable age-related imperfections. This new restoration of Mike de Leon's Kung Mangarap Ka't Magising will certainly remain as the definitive presentation of this feel good romance. The technical work is magnificent and there are truly dramatic improvements with some digital adjustments that have been added after the scanning and the repair work, which I think are not entirely appropriate. Nevertheless, this release earns a glowingly high recommendation based on the strength of the film and its accompanying technical presentation.

Screenplay: Rey Santayana, Mike de Leon

Musical Director: Jun Latonio

Cinematography: Francis Escaler, Mike de Leon

Production Design: Mel Chionglo

Sound: Ramon Reyes, Luis Reyes

Editing: Ike Jarlego, Jr.

Direction: Mike de Leon