SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     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