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
