Romance, so I’m to understand the term (and I don’t), is predicated on petite, strategic lies. It’s the confluence of many different slightly altered postures and highly self-moderated presentations, all calculated to either aid or discourage further amorous fission. It means that the person one falls in love with isn’t necessarily the person one has fallen in love with and vice versa. But we know this all too well, otherwise we wouldn’t expect something different and exciting from our fictions, both real and imagined. The quintessential tenet of romantic movies is that they feature characters who are either kept apart by their own deceptions or brought together by their total, yielding allowance of casting aside all that bullshit and opening up to another kindred soul. We eat that up, all the more voraciously for knowing it isn’t so simple. So when it comes to real life, we spend as much time constructing the barriers as we do peering around them to see who’s on the other side and we wonder why everyone else is doing the same thing.
Laurice Guillen's Kasal? (Trigon Cinema Arts, 1980) uses flashbacks to chart two days worth of push-pull surrounding the wedding, back and forth with revelation and evasion. But, this being fiction, is mostly revelation. Joel (Christopher de Leon) and Grace's (Hilda Koronel) conversations appear to have all the hallmarks of research both can file away for next time, but Grace's deck outburst gives it away. She’s intending to get Joel emerge from his shell. And emerge he does, from there, the lovers connect again and again, physically, emotionally, intellectually. They invariably swim with the current of the whirlpool and are carried closer and closer to that holy grail of total, mutual understanding. The longer you spend inside Kasal?, the more its fictions seem apparent. De Leon and Koronel along with Jay Ilagan and Chanda Romero are, of course, incredibly attractive people who, despite their characters’ hang-ups and foibles, are approachable and easy to watch. But Mario O'Hara’s screenplay isn’t just perceptive to these fictions, it shows how they function in reality, narrowing the gap between the movie’s idealized representation and its audience’s own capacity to do the same. It’s nearly as galvanizing as the moment Grace finally opens up. It’s in moments like these that Kasal? nudges fantasy just a little bit closer to reality.
The high definition (1.67:1 aspect ratio) presentation offers a fairly decent scan with age restraining some clarity on the viewing experience. Detail is soft and while cinematographic limitations are present, sharpness feels dull, leading to only passable textures on close-ups and set decoration. Colors are equally unremarkable, skintones are somewhat bloodless and costuming lacks vibrancy even with party outfits. Delineation isn't troublesome, but never exquisite. Source is in decent shape. The 2.0 sound mix doesn't offer the type of theatrical clarity the film deserves, as age had its way with the track, resulting in a tinny, sometimes muddy listening event. Dialogue exchanges aren't where they need to be, with periodic intelligibility issues, especially when characters mumble. Sound effects are hard on the ears, but not that sharp. Some hiss is detected throughout. It's fascinating to watch Guillen's style take shape, there's provocative and passionate work here for study.
Screenplay: Mario O'Hara
Production Design: Mel Chionglo
Cinematography: Ricardo Remias
Film Editor: Efren Jarlego
Musical Director: Jun Latonio
Sound Supervision: Rolly Ruta
Directed By: Laurice Guillen
