Ishmael Bernal builds and reinforces a mood with unexpected techniques that are simple, personal and resoundingly effective from the movie's opening moments. There are no suffocating close-ups in Hinugot sa Langit (Regal Films, Inc., 1985), instead, individual shots are long and leisurely. The camera movement flows, following the characters as they move about their world. Gradually, this lived-in feeling allows us to inhabit their world, too, and with that comes, not just an understanding but an actual feel for what it must have been like. Perhaps unsurprisingly, offscreen space plays an essential role in the film’s construction. Cinematographer Rody Lacap works with a mostly fixed camera here; the unconventional framing makes us aware of a larger environment and context. In one of the film’s most extraordinary sequences Carmen (Maricel Soriano), is sitting at the doctor's office. Her mind is elsewhere. She is worried. If things go wrong her life could be ruined. Bernal places Carmen at the center of the frame and shows her in a long take as the conversation happens. This is an aspect of consciousness, a moment in life, that we've all experienced. We've all been scared and feeling outside the general mirth. Yet, I've never seen this reality conveyed in a Filipino movie before. The scene is unbearably tense, not because Bernal shows us that Carmen is tense, but rather because he puts us at the table with her, and he does so long enough that we soon feel what she is feeling. The near-constant tension between narrative and image, between what we expect to see and what we are actually shown, makes Bernal’s insert shot all the more essential. Virtually every shot has something novel about it, either in its technique, emotional weight, psychological perception or a combination of all three.
Stella (Amy Austria) lives her life while trying to be a good friend to her cousin Carmen. Unable to communicate her pain to self-absorbed boyfriend Teddy (Ronald Bregendahl), Stella was forced into an appalling act of self-sacrifice. Austria, the movie's locus of meaning astonishes, humble in aspect but brave and focused. While often overwhelmed, Stella does not lose any of her resourcefulness and compassion, and Austria masterfully balances herself well between her character’s strength and vulnerability while drawing more care and empathy from us. Commanding every scene, Soriano brings a multi-textural depth to Carmen and speaks volumes with her silence. The more frozen her face, the more of her soul lies bare. You want her not just to survive, but to survive with her humanity intact. Charito Solis completes a trio of notable performances as Ate Juling, Carmen's landlady who shines in a heartbreaking sequence halfway through the film. She throws you completely off balance which only serves to add to the tension of her character and the situation. Hinugot sa Langit deliberately levels an unblinking gaze at its subjects. That makes camera placement and movement crucial, and suggests that every shot has been carefully prepared. The movie has inspired many words about how it reflects Filipino society, but the fascination comes not so much from the experiences the characters have, however unspeakable, but in who they are, and how they behave and relate. Like many contemporary Filipino filmmakers, Bernal examines political and social conditions through his concentration on individual characters, a detailed formal approach, and spare verisimilitude. It’s a realism that cannot help but serve as a biting criticism of the Marcos regime. Bernal acknowledges the gravity of the situation he has dramatized and opens it to deeper meanings, all while maintaining his steadfast focus on character. How remarkable, that a film tackling such weighty issues should do so with such integrity and still manage to be sensitive, moving, and human.
Sound Supervision: Rudy Baldovino
Editing: Jess Navarro
Music: Willy Cruz
Production Design: Elmer Manapul
Cinematography: Rody Lacap
Screenplay: Amado L. Lacuesta, Jr.
Direction: Ishmael Bernal
