SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     In 2013, Typhoon Haiyan, an extremely powerful and catastrophic tropical cyclone devastated Southeast Asia, particularly the Philippines. Taklub (Center Stage Productions Co., 2015) is set against this backdrop. Directed by Brillante Ma Mendoza, Taklub is a testament to the combined efforts of ordinary individuals, bound by humanity in the crucible of disaster. No single movie can tell every point of view, every experience, every loss, every triumph or every story. What one single movie can do is raise our remembrance and honor what transpired on that fateful day. What one single movie can do is give at least one true story with profound respect and realism. Most importantly, what the beauty of any movie can do is remind us all of the hope and survival that rises from the depths of tragedy and loss. What is portrayed and performed in Taklub carries enough intensity, challenge and emotion to stir and reward your investment. But instead of playing for tension, Mendoza goes for character and atmosphere. It’s all superbly acted. Julio Diaz and Aaron Rivera play sheer tearful anguish in such strong believable ways. I have to admit to being blindsided by its real emotional power. There are moments here of such profound despair and heartbreak, but in the end I found honesty and compassion in Taklub. It could well be Diaz's finest hour, delivering a performance with a sledgehammer emotional punch. Simply having to enunciate what has happened overwhelms him with grief and fear. In an arresting performance, Rivera catapults to unanticipated and unseen emotional heights selling Erwin's dedication to his family and also to doing the right thing, and that’s what makes Erwin such a special character. For him, this isn’t just a fight for survival or for his family, it’s a significant transformation for him as a person.

     The film’s most dramatic sequences focuses on Bebeth. Flinging herself, ego-free and vulnerable into Bebeth’s shredded soul with utter conviction, Nora Aunor embodies everyday maternal heroism. Hers is a performance that couldn’t exist without access to the character’s emotional truth. Thanks to her ability in conveying empathy, courage and motherly love, Aunor has created a moving tribute to the real-life woman she portrays and every single soul affected by the horrific natural disaster that was Typhoon Haiyan. Her utterly exhausting and convincing portrayal of a tragedy-stricken mother is enormously amazing and carries the entire film. For Aunor, it’s as if pain is a renewable resource for her characterization skills and of late, she seems to have specialized in the allure of the imperiled solitude with all the physicality and interiority required, whether or not the movies themselves are any good. Aunor brings that same full-bodied intensity to Bebeth. As survival cinema, Taklub has a certain unpredictable energy which Aunor embodies with a combination of compassion and exasperation. It’s the aftermath, however, in which we learn the root of Bebeth’s experience, that exposes Taklub for the well-intentioned film about grief that it is. Mendoza's direction is utterly unflinching, getting us as close to feeling Bebeth's pain as possible through the medium. The screen will always act as a barrier to a certain extent, it is almost as though we are there experiencing the reality ourselves. Honeylyn Joy Alipio's screenplay never overplays its hand when it comes to sentimentality. Its particular masterstroke is its tight focus on Bebeth (not trying to shoehorn all manner of others into the tale) while showing how her plight compares and contrasts with Larry and Erwin in the same situation. Nevertheless, the pathos is warranted as the film’s residue of sadness and shock, presented sufficiently within the context of the inhumane storm that ruined precious lives. Part of the appeal of this powerful drama is that it puts the viewer right in the moment at every stage, using authentic locations and survivors to hammer home the reality of this tragedy. 

Director: Brillante Ma Mendoza

Screenwriter: Honeylyn Joy Alipio

Director of Photography: Odyssey Flores

Production Designer: Dante Mendoza

Editor: Kats Serraon

Sound Engineers; Andrew Milallos, Addiss Tabong

Musical Director: Diwa de Leon

     Too many movies are afraid to show us a complete wretch, not Huling Palabas (CreatePHFilms, Tilt Studios, Kayumanggi Kolektib, 2023). Unclogged from the outcast-to-film pipeline comes the delightfully unpleasant Andoy (Shun Mark Gomez), a high school cinephile personified. Writer/director Ryan Espinosa Machado finds uncommon honesty even if the coming-of-age story eventually falls into some of the more palatable pitfalls its strident star would rail against. Andoy is an awkward teenager who loves movies, but Machado imbues Huling Palabas with a dignified unlikability—a confidently written and performed character who’s at times a jerk to his best friend, Pido (Bon Andrew Lentejas) and an emotional leech draining Ariel (Serena Magiliw). It’s realistic, unflattering and too true to life to be anything but personal. It’s perversely satisfying to see Gomez lean fully into Andoy’s disdain for his Robin Padilla wannabe, Uncle Julio (Jay Gonzaga). He’s impatient, his eyes greedy for the next moment where he will become the center of attention. It’s a great performance, tightly roped in by Machado’s direction. As an uneasy chemistry develops between Andoy and Isidro (Cedric Juan), it’s clear that he is forming a crush and that he’s enjoying having someone around whom he can genuinely look up to, but when Machado chooses to take the film into dark places, he does so in unexpected ways. He handles the shifts in tone with impressive ease and they’re well suited to the coming-of-age theme at the center of his work. Despite the bleak subject it touches on, the film always retains its energy and humor, just as Andoy remains likeable (at least from a distance) no matter how obnoxious his behavior may be. But even its small chuckles are more meaningful because they feel like logical progressions.

     The film’s pulled-taut characters walk around wearing armor made of irony, each waiting for someone or something to hit the release valve and let their furious monologue escape. When Andoy finally breaks down or when Ariel steals the movie with a revelation, or when Pido snaps at the little shit he’s been hanging around with, you exhale—finally. But in these moments, Huling Palabas wavers. The hurt resonates, but the fallout is cushioned by cinematic airbags. You don’t want to overly punish Andoy for being the way he is, but when the film’s hard edge relents (often in some of the more broad comedic scenes) it undermines its more harsh truths. Magiliw’s wry, magnetic performance sometimes feels in service of a character who, despite his own lampshading, cannot escape the cinematic pull to coddle and educate an ill-equipped boy. Huling Palabas may be Andoy’s vision of the world, but his feel-good finale would have the cinephile in him rolling his eyes. But he’d love the rest of the movie he lives in. Machado’s filmmaking, his sense of place and his placement of sensory details build out a time capsule, plated with nostalgia and tarnished by hindsight. It doesn’t have a romantic view of high school or even a romantic view of the movies, but it does have a romanticism about its fringe-dwellers. You’re not stuck being who you were in high school, but who you were in high school never quite goes away—not from your personality and not from the “you” that those who once knew you remember. Excavating that bittersweet history, of insecurity and shame and, misanthropy rather than burying it, allows Huling Palabas to speak clearly to those who’ve also erected protective walls of pop cultural passion, without sacrificing the prickly parts that make its observations so sharp.

Film Composer: Erwin Fajardo

Sound Designers: Immanuel Verona, Fatima Nerikka Salim

Editors: Cyril Bautista, Kurt Abraham

Director of Photography: Theo Lozada, LPS

Written and Directed By: Ryan Espinosa Machado

     Alkitrang Dugo (N.V. Productions, 1976) is, in essence, a primal myth. It follows a group of young athletes stranded on an uninhabited island after their plane crashes, claiming the lives of both their pilot and coach. Luis (Eddie Villamayor) seems like a natural leader - he's smart, fair and good at planning, able to think not only about the immediate needs of the group but about the bigger picture, the importance of rescue. There's a rival on the island, however, and that's Andy (Roderick Paulate), who quickly wins the loyalty of many with his focus on hunting, feasting and dancing. Complicating the picture are socially unskilled Nilo (Toto Jr.), natural second in command Brooks (Efren Montes) and thoughtful outsider Lando (Zernan Manahan). Despite the fact that, between them, they have the skills needed to get by pretty comfortably in the short-to-medium term, the stage is set for conflict. From nowhere come disagreements and disputes. They do not realize the trouble is within themselves.The tone of the film is different, reflecting cultural changes that had taken place during that time. The notion of childhood innocence was beginning to fade from the public consciousness and has faded further since. Consequently, the boys' descent into savagery feels less like a comment on childhood; in its place, the metaphor that director Lupita A. Concio touched on at the very end resonates more strongly, with the children, unattended coming to resemble adults. Alkitrang Dugo could best be described as psychological horror, made more visceral by the sight and sound afforded by cinema. 

     To Concio, the children didn’t hit marks or try to construct their emotions in a role but rather if given the right circumstances would react with an unfiltered instinct needed for the story. The performances are remarkably organic with the trio of core characters standing out. Villamayor—who plays the mature pragmatist and elected chief, Luis—brings with him the right amount of sincerity as the one boy who tries to preserve a sense of democratic order. His opposite is represented by Andy (Paulate) who leads his fellow athletes—later rebranded in a fascistic manner as hunters—to the brink by reverting back to an anarchic primitive existence, fashioning spears and donning warpaint with fellow hunters and eventually forming a much more powerful rival tribe. In the middle of it all is Nilo (Toto Jr.), the four-eyed outsider who embodies the malaise of the outcast with the authentic awkwardness of a truly troubled adolescent trying to cling to some sense of morality amongst the chaos. This cunning corruption of paradise—a miniature Fall of Man—forces us to pit purity versus primitivism in the most direct manner of questioning our own nature and whether we would also be capable of such behavior. Concio embraces the illusion of vérité as a device to render expressionism with a sense of terrifying immediacy and palpability. There are many moments in Alkitrang Dugo that are unshakably beautiful and disturbing, allegorical yet weirdly real. Concio renders savagery with the despairing eye of a humanist and with the irresolvable ambivalence of an artist.

Screenplay: Nicanor B. Cleto Jr. Inspired By William Golding's "Lord of the Flies"

Cinematography: Joe Batac Jr.

Music By: Lutgardo Labad

Art Director: Ben Otico

Film Editor: Ben Barcelon

Directed By: Lupita A. Concio

     For the most part, Madawag ang Landas Patungong Pag-Asa (New Sunrise Films, 2022) wobbles along while struggling to find a balance between the more heartfelt story of Ara Lumawig (Rita Daniela) and other characters central to the film and the determination of screenwriter Eric Ramos to paint a convincing story of the issues plaguing small town educational system and corruption. Madawag ang Landas Patungong Pag-Asa takes on a serious topic, but fret not; the film is an absorbing, marvelously-acted piece of work that entertains without ever feeling like a school assignment. Director Joel C. Lamangan sees his characters as flawed people, but most of them are also inherently good.There is no question which side the viewer is supposed to be rooting for, though it helps that the protagonists are so easy to pull for as underdogs trying with all their might to make a difference in their children's and students' lives before it's too late. Ara's frustration leads her to befriend Ka Ambo (Lou Veloso) and together with Father Caloy (Jim Pebanco), they rescue a failing school and re-design it to foster effective learning. Obviously, Ara's educational reform is opposed by corrupt public official, Indang (Dorothy Gilmore). While it's a reasonable argument that Madawag ang Landas Patungong Pag-Asa comes down pretty hard on its issues, Lamangan at least makes a decent effort to provide some balance for the film. It's clear that the real culprit here is the resistance to and fear of change, although it would be impossible to deny that Lamangan paints Lou Veloso's Ka Ambo as a man whose ideals remain uncorrupted over the years but, it's also acknowledged, mostly through the character of Pebanco's Father Caloy. Madawag ang Landas Patungong Pag-Asa focuses on solving problems rather than assigning blame. The failings of the education system in the Philippines, for which there is plenty of blame to go around, are self-evident.

     Madawag ang Landas Patungong Pag-Asa exploits an outrage that is experienced on a daily basis. But its clarion call is hampered by simplifications and distortions. The film’s heart is certainly in the right place not so, always, its head. But social-issue movies can have real societal impact. That’s why Madawag ang Landas Patungong Pag-Asa deserves to be taken seriously and criticized seriously on its own terms. Lamangan has beautifully cast the film with actors and actresses who take average material and turn it into an involving and entertaining film. Pebanco for the most part is remarkable as the town priest. He gives a heartfelt performance that makes you wish you'd have someone like him to help you get through life. The film is stolen, however, by Daniela's magnificent turn as Ara, a public school teacher struggling with issues in the classroom. Her body becomes a cinematic vessel of apathy, frustration, sadness, grief and determination. As young Betchay, Felixia Dizon is simply wonderful with a performance that exudes both the innocence of childhood and the tattered edges of a child. Albie Casiño, who plays Teddy is able to see both sides of the argument being presented in the film. Jak Roberto is fine as Lt. Randy Meneses, but the romantic subplot that forms between himself and Ara is a non-starter that could have been excised with few changes made to the rest of the narrative even though it places them in an almost entirely predictable story outline. Lamangan proved that he's gifted at directing young people and he's also able to make complex subject matter accessible for a wider audience. Every aspect of a picture works in tandem to create a complete whole. Lamamgan does simplify the issues here, but he doesn't dumb them down. Madawag ang Landas Patungong Pag-Asa leaves a lasting impact because Lamangan beautifully weaves compelling characters into an intelligent and thought-provoking film that will tap into both your heart and mind.

 

Screenplay: Eric Ramos

Director of Photography: T.M. Malones

Editing: Gilbert Obispo

Production Design: Jay Custodio

Music: Von de Guzman

Sound: Christopher Mendoza

Direction: Joel C. Lamangan

     The parent-child relationship has been quintessential cinematic fodder for decades. Filmmakers have kept digging into it, but rarely have they engaged with the messy, unwieldy duality and thrusting complexity hidden and entrenched within it. To do that requires honesty that isn’t afraid to acknowledge the tight spots lodged underneath the façade of affection and emotional ties. When and how does a mother-daughter relationship hurtle into becoming something that threatens to cut off almost every other relationship? What are the niggling insecurities and the throbbing loneliness that mask that suffocating bid for possessiveness?  In Isla Babuyan (Solid Gold Entertainment Production, 2025), director Jose Abdel B. Langit demonstrates an audacity by being willing to plunge into such questions. When the film opens in Paraiso, we are hurled into Rose (Lotlot de Leon) as she gets ready for the arrival of her estranged daughter, Anastasia (Geraldine Jennings) from London. She immediately comes to recognize her mother's insistence on hovering over every aspect of her life. Anatasia’s sense of autonomy is intrinsically linked to her mother’s goodwill and the connection she has forged. The dynamics between the two are ruptured by Jordan (Jameson Blake). As he pursues an interest in Anastasia, Rose finds herself confronted with the unsettling possibility of losing control over her daughter. Langit captures the mother’s fear of witnessing her daughter being wrenched away. She struggles to come to terms with Anastasia’s perceptible curiosity in another person and doesn’t hide her resentment of Jordan. Rose crumples when her daughter seems to be looking elsewhere and not her way. Anastasia enjoys the short sailing expeditions with Jordan, but when Javier (Paolo Gumabao) comes into the picture, he is thrown into unease. 

     The scenes where the three are present together roils with undercurrents as Langit subtly etches the myriad shades in the relationships colliding with each other, chafing for more visibility and attention. Javier sparks disagreements and jealousy between Anastasia and Jordan, and one can easily spot the toxicity lurking in every aspect of their relationship. Resentment, passive-aggressiveness, a lack of respect for boundaries – they’re all there, but in a very relatable way. There’s friction and tension that shoot through the cracks in every exchange underneath the gauze of niceties. Soon even the pleasantries are skipped. It’s obvious that both Rose and Anastasia are characters of flesh and blood. That said, their world is effectively a gilded cage, even if they live on the margins of society. Isla Babuyan creates an atmosphere where the viewer feels as trapped as Rose. The film could easily have veered into telenovela territory, but the director mostly avoids sentimentality. And, crucially, Rose and David (James Blanco) have a believable mix of love and hate with memories, experiences and resentments always bubbling just under the surface until finally, inevitably, they erupt. When Langit lets the explosion rip through in a confrontational scene where Rose and David's second wife, Margaux (Nathalie Hart) go at each other with their misgivings and fury, it is bursting with raw, undisguised emotion bobbing up from the very pits of vulnerability where mean, hurtful words are tossed. Isla Babuyan is stunning in its uncompromising devotion to not cutting away from emotionally acute needlepoint-like moments, conceding gradual privacy and dignity for its characters to grow and forge selfhood through painful realizations.

Screenplay: Jessie Villabrille

Director of Photography: T.M. Malones

Editing: John Anthony L. Wong

Production Design: Jay Custodio

Music: Dek Margaja

Sound Engineer: Paulo Estero

Directed By: Jose Abdel B. Langit

     Jay Altarejos' Huwag Mo Akong Salingin (2076 Kolektib, 2025) begins with an homage to Noli Me Tángere, a novel by Filipino writer and activist José Rizal. From the glossy visual elements to how outfits redefine women and the effectively sublime satire of an environment that Altarejos knew so well. In any case, analysis of the plot development or personality traits of its main characters is hardly the appropriate approach to a film like Huwag Mo Akong Salingin.  Even more than the pointed socio-political commentary, this is a playful exercise in ideas that hides its more serious provocations, but still retains the power to dazzle any viewer willing to just be taken in by the visual audacity of it all. The sets and costumes are absolutely gorgeous. They help influence the characters making the film worth watching. Through the beautiful sets and costumes, Altarejos gives audiences a visual delight and perfect representation of that. Both help tell the story and play an integral part in keeping the viewer invested. Its anarchic skewering of a fashion culture much lighter in tone on its surface but still wielding a bludgeon every bit as cynical and dismissive of wholesome mainstream tastes, puts us on the other side of the camera, posing the question How does it feel to be a woman? Altarejos is too savvy to just tell us how it feels, but he clearly has a fun time giving us some delirious imagery to stop and take a good long look at. 

Fearuring the Gowns of Rene Magtibay Salud

Jewelry By: Milagros Berboso Imson

Written and Directed By: Joselito Altarejos

Director of Photography: Marco Bertillo Mata

Edited By: Jay Altarejos, Marco Bertillo Mata

Sound and Music By: Arbi Barbarona

Production Design: 2076 Kolektib