SLAPSTICK TRAGEDY


     Pito ang Asawa Ko: Huwag Tularan (VP Pictures, 1974) is a humpback movie, portending Vic Vargas' plunge from the summit of celebrity, which now adds only to the film's retroactive, plaintive appeal. The protagonist, Douglas' outwardly together but inwardly brittle emotional state is underpinned by Vargas’ equally fragile state, as we know now that this film was pretty much the last of his where he was the major star many of us never forgot and always hoped would return to. Pito ang Asawa Ko: Huwag Tularan is a most unusual movie, a slapstick tragedy and superior to its reputation, in thematic concerns and lead performance. Vargas is crucial casting because it would be churlish to deny that it would be imaginable, inevitable even, for him to be an equal-opportunity womanizer who all kinds would respond positively to, as he is both handsome and charming. His eyes are smiling, all right, but even when wounded, his Douglas doesn’t use his male prerogative to lash out or torment; he gently pouts like a misbehaving dog or an admonished child, all while still looking like Vic Vargas. Douglas is an inveterate womanizer who desperately struggles with his own romantic indeterminacy. Douglas is so frustrated with his powerlessness to satiate his endless desire for romantic connection. He keeps falling all over himself and director Ishmael Bernal in fact traps Douglas with no head reshaping itself from a frying-pan shape at the end of this slapstick farce. Vargas simply has perpetual opportunities inaccessible to mere mortals and in any specific moment, his Douglas is exclusively immersed in creating a genuine connection, not using a woman as an instrument, a vessel – in Vargas’ situation, anyone might do the same thing. Bursting with sundry screwball comedy elements and sequences, Bernal's film might affect one’s response because Douglas, from the very beginning doesn’t feel like a pure comedy device but like a real person. The impossible question that Bernal poses in Pito ang Asawa Ko: Huwag Tularan is what’s the difference between truly loving women and merely making love to women?  Who is the lover, who is the womanizer? His answer is Douglas loves women, every inch of them and makes love when he feels it will be a reciprocally positive experience, which might sound supercilious and self-aggrandizing.

      Vargas' underplaying throughout is impressive, as Bernal here and throughout does not allow him to call on his various cutesy and occasionally macho ticks. He stays modestly in character, a mean feat when he is supposed to be effortlessly seductive. Douglas is able to tune into the unique aspect of each woman he meets and has a different type of relationship with each one, which shows acute sensitivity on his part but also indicates his relationships are all determined by the women’s needs, him delivering what they need without ever fulfilling or even identifying what he needs. Vargas can’t break free of his cheerful compulsion and even when he apparently has it all plus the new self-knowledge of what drove him before, he can’t stop himself, resulting in the wedding that opens the film. What a curious way to have to describe a movie. This is why Bernal's Pito ang Asawa Ko: Huwag Tularan is a superior film, superior to its shaky reputation. This was the last attempt by Vargas to be a sensitive romantic lead that snuck out long after his star had disintegrated. Here, still the leading man he should have remained, Vargas gives a dexterous, proportioned performance: beautiful, softhearted and miserable. Of course, Pito ang Asawa Ko: Huwag Tularan needs women equal to the man’s desire for them and Bernal puts together a terrific ensemble of dissimilar, pleasing types. Gina Pareño, between her physical attractiveness and maturity is wholly imaginable to be what Vargas feels he needs after his stormy marriage with Gloria Romero, winning over the slightly tentative Liza Lorena whose character acts as a beautiful downer to counteract the high he gets from the women peppering every corner of his landscape and as such is equally desirable and plausibly seen by him as a viable solution to his dilemma. She, of course, is not so sure. One crucial aspect of the film’s success is Pareño’s performance, her every breath a sensual enterprise. Pito ang Asawa Ko: Huwag Tularan is much more ambitious thematically, its tonal shifts and overall tenor of humorous anguish can throw off viewers who want more sexy, slapstick lunacy and come off spurious to those who think the film should explore more of Vargas' psychosis. Pito ang Asawa Ko: Huwag Tularan maintains the tone of a light joke told with a tortured smile, who have made it well aware they have it all and yet feel miserable at some core level. Perhaps Bernal is exploring the despair of beautiful, interesting people, how do they find ways to nonetheless self-destruct? 


Screenplay: Ishmael Bernal, Desi Dizon

Cinematographer: Rudy Diño

Music: Danny Holmsen

Editor: Jose H. Tarnate

Sound: Gaudencio Barredo

Directed By: Ishmael Bernal

EXCEEDINGLY MODERN


     The romantic comedy is the weakest and laziest genre around, perhaps even more so than horror remakes. There are only a handful of formulas that are repeated with only the tiniest bit of effort. First, there's the lie plot, in which one character can't tell the other character the truth for fear of some terrible consequences. Then there's the supernatural romantic comedy, in which some magical circumstances lead someone to true love. Perhaps worst of all are the meet-hate movies in which two people spend the entire movie fighting before falling in love. Rare are the movies in which two people simply struggle with the stupid, complicated problems of everyday life, such as personal experience and emotional wounds. Writer and director Jose Javier Reyes' Bukas na Lang Kita Mamahalin (Viva Films, 2000) is such a movie. One would be hard-pressed to expect much from an Angelu de Leon-Diether Ocampo vehicle centered on a gimmicky friends-with-benefits exploration. But Reyes maintains a buoyant tone throughout, capturing millennial life with squeaky clean affection for the city’s perfectly manicured delights. Caustic before gradually letting down its defenses, Bukas na Lang Kita Mamahalin is as exceedingly modern in its premise as it is traditional in its destination. True love, no matter how it might begin, is funny like that. In bringing together Abby (De Leon) and Jimboy (Ocampo), first as acquaintances, then as bedmates, then as potentially something more, the picture confidently does so without much tug or pull on the screenplay's natural feel, low-key tone and frequently very amusing sensibilities. Abby and Jimboy are smart, ambitious individuals—but they're also engaging, unpretentious and just the kind of characters one is happy to watch for the better part of two hours. 

     They're not above enacting mistakes—Abby long ago put up a tough exterior for her family and now, as an adult, is having trouble letting this go for the chance to be genuinely happy—but the decisions they make and actions they take feel believable rather than as a strained excuse to merely bring conflict to the story. We don't always relate to Abby's point of view, but we understand it, just as we understand why Jimboy is so hurt when he tries to express himself and is shot down. De Leon adjusts nicely to her more humor-based surroundings—she unexpectedly garners quite a few laughs—she also takes the part of Abby just as seriously. Ocampo is on more familiar terrain as Jimboy. He has played this kind of role—more often than not, but if he is left generally unchallenged, that doesn't take away how good he is at it. Indeed, Ocampo meets De Leon step for step and the two of them have an infectious camaraderie that really leaves one caring about them. The first official date they go on is lovely in the way it pays attention to them and their behavior. Even when Abby is saying that she doesn't want things to go further, you know that she really does. Also a bright spot in the furthering of their relationship comes when Jimboy agrees to go with Abby to meet her father, Filemon (Celso Ad Castillo); where this scene goes is both immensely sweet and hugely funny.  Side parts in this type of movie are usually throwaways, mostly consisting of friends and family whose sole job is to be confided in by the main characters. One after the other, they blow in and without seeming to even try, threaten to steal the show. The irresistible Tessie Tomas and perfectly acerbic Nikka Ruiz are a treat as Helen, Abby's mother and gal pal, Maricel, who gets a laugh with nearly every line she delivers. Bukas na Lang Kita Mamahalin is all about the journey, not the destination. Reyes avoids pandering to viewers the way most romantic comedies do—instead, he centers on the humanity within his characters.


Production Designer: Jake de Asis

Director of Photography: Eduardo Jacinto, FSC

Music: Jesse Lucas

Editor: Vito Cajili

Sound Supervision: Albert Michael Idioma

Written and Directed By: Jose Javier Reyes