ART OUT OF LIFE


     Beautifully written and performed, Mga Uod at Rosas (IAN Film Productions, 1982) goes far beyond stereotyping, never patronizing. The film has a static look with many shots of characters talking or sitting and waiting. Ingmar Bergman, one of the greatest filmmakers, used to say he believed the real subject of cinema is the human face. Ding, the starving artist is played by Johnny Delgado whose eyes can bore through other actors. Nina, the woman who inspires him, is played by Lorna Tolentino, startlingly beautiful, with sensuous lips and deep eyes under arched brows, she seems at first a prop for a familiar story: The artist is obsessed with her, but he wants more than that. Socorro (Nora Aunor), fully understands this, she knows him too well. The great central passages involve creation. Ding begins to sketch, we observe over his shoulder. Director Romy V. Suzara rarely cuts away, we see a blank sheet of paper and the drawing taking shape there. We see the physical process, then the first tentative lines on the page. Does it sound boring to watch a man simply drawing for extended periods? Yes, it does, but it is not. Suspense is building. That’s what Ding wants. Socorro begins to understand. She accepts the pain to prove she is the equal of his determination. One day when he despairs, she will see this through. Of the performances, there is nothing to be said about Delgado except that he communicates exactly what Ding needs from his art and doesn’t need many words to do it. Tolentino has an ethereal beauty, but it is her talent that has made her a leading actress of her generation. Suzara invites us to marvel at her beauty, but only in frank and desexualized terms. He wants everything, the blood, the fire, the ice, everything that rests within her body. Without any dialog or behavior to spell it out, Aunor has an astonishing face that can hold a close-up. The tiny inflections in her face open an overwhelming blend of frustration, patience, determination, her own kind of unpretentious clarity and above all deep sadness. 

     Tremendously played by Aunor, Socorro is a woman who generally likes to keep her emotions in check. Suzara makes her face the center of the movie. Many films refer to a lead character’s face – the reaction shot is not a new technique, but here, it’s about as well as it can be done. The real highlight of the film, though, is Aunor. Socorro’s complexity is phenomenally conveyed by Aunor, who is able to portray her character’s internal struggle with a few simple facial gestures. Socorro feels lived in and it’s the kind of performance that evokes a sense of familiarity and empathy with the viewer. Aunor commands the proceedings and Suzara lets you know it with lingering close-ups of her face, underscoring her beauty and boundless ability to make us care deeply no matter what role she undertakes. Aunor is always good, but performances like this suggest that for all her acclaim, she might actually be underrated. The movie works because of the beautiful brush strokes of Danny Dalena although Delgado clearly does a bit of painting and drawing himself. Suzara holds his camera still for long minutes at a time as we watch the blank page being turned into something beautiful. Many long moments go by without a word, it's that mesmerizing. Suzara's presentation is all matter of fact and in its matter of factness, Mga Uod at Rosas feels downright chaste. Suzara isn't a mechanical filmmaker, but there's a casual dexterity to the movie's craftsmanship; its aesthetics strike with a simplicity that belies its complexities as a work of art. Long takes, slow zooms and deep focus give Mga Uod at Rosas a sense of disciplined stillness, all the better to record the meticulous efforts of its two chief subjects as they make art out of life. There's more to Mga Uod at Rosas of course, but we take intermittent breaks to spend a moment here and there with Ding and Socorro. At the same time, the film does take its own twists and turns. If you suspect that his characters' faith will be tested and and hearts broken, you suspect correctly, just not necessarily in the ways you might imagine. Suzara has created his own work of art in directing Mga Uod at Rosas. Art and life are viewed as one and the same problem.


Production Design: Manny Morfe, Danny Dalena

Story & Screenplay: Edgardo M. Reyes

Director of Photography: Romeo Vitug

Film Editor: Ike Jarlego, Jr.

Musical Director: George Canseco

Directed By: Romy V. Suzara


EXHILARATING AND UNNERVING

     Joselito Altarejos' Greatest Performance (2076 Kolektib, Pelikula Indiopendent, Studio X, 2026) sets the stage for a movie wholly consumed by Sunshine Cruz's single, hypnotizing presence. Her Yvonne Rivera invites a tantalizing mixture of fascination and pity. Less nonfiction portrait than a poetic framing of domestic frustrations, Greatest Performance is a lot more than flailing show business aspirations. On the surface, Yvonne’s hardships aren’t unique. In Greatest Performance, Altarejos positions his star in the grips of inner turmoil while constantly battling to display self-confidence. As Yvonne revisits the possibility of returning to show business, the validity of her earlier efforts gradually come into play.  Though her complaints occasionally reach a pathetic extreme, the story’s dramatic weight holds: She’s the embodiment of genuine talent squandered by personal hangups and debilitating gender barriers, Yvonne is trapped somewhere in between the two. Altarejos fashions a narrative out of Yvonne's disarray by capturing her in small asides in between the greater developments in her emerging crisis. She reflects on her mistakes and rehearses. Even so, by virtue of Yvonne’s uneasy state of affairs, the movie delivers a canny look at the ills of the entertainment industry. Ms. Cruz expresses emotion no less candidly than she would in any context: Even her rawest confessions are delivered with an actorly awareness of dramatic consequence, there’s little doubting her ferocity as an actress. A performer is different, to be sure someone uniquely conscious of the various roles they must inhabit and trained to do so but in degree, not in kind.

     Actor Soliman Cruz looks to be having a field day behaving badly as filmmaker Mar Alvarez, the personification of the cruelty women experience in the industry, while Oliver Aquino is totally committed to Drew's trajectory. In more precocious hands, Altarejos' densely self-reflexive premise could come across as coldly eggheaded, but his formal conviction and profound empathy for his subject ensure the film never feels ruled by its concept. The helmer also acts as his own editor and writer, and his crisp, refined work in both those departments contributes to the films' simultaneous sense of intimacy and intent examination, but his camera’s investment in Ms. Cruz is unwavering — and she returns it with equally committed dependence. Greatest Performance convincingly reconciles private passion with public desire by suggesting that, for women in particular, the 21st-century limelight is always on, no matter the setting or venue. Altarejos' extraordinary collaboration with Cruz is a playful, provocative examination of self-performance. As much as Greatest Performance is a rare and singular portrait of a woman struggling to stage a comeback, it succeeds best as a layered commentary on the many facets of performance. Perhaps the most refreshing aspect of Greatest Performance, in the end, is how much of a true collaboration it is between filmmaker and subject. Ms. Cruz stands as Altarejos' creative equal: an emotionally charged, complicated and melancholic spirit who lives through intersecting roles in order to find her own peace of mind. Exhilarating and unnerving in equal measure, Greatest Performance is the rare film that could be said to capture life in its purest, most lyrical form.


Director/Writer: Joselito Altarejos

Directors of Photography: Manuel Garcellano, Marco Bertillo Mata

Editor: Joselito Altarejos

Sound Desigbn: Alex Tomboc, Bebet Casas

Musical Score: Arbi Barbarona

Production Design: 2076 Kolektib