SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     Although Pare Ko (Star Cinema, 1994) contains several scenes that are a great deal more dramatic, my favorite moments were the quiet ones, in which nothing was being said and nothing seems to be happening. To be able to listen to such silence is to understand the central dilemma of adolescence, which is that one's dreams are so much larger than one's confidence. Pare Ko is a movie that pays attention to such things. It contains some moments when the audience is likely to think, yes, being young was exactly like that. Pare Ko is a heartwarming and truthful movie, with some nice touches of humor. It contains most of the scenes that are obligatory in teenage movies, but writer and director Jose Javier Reyes doesn't treat them as subjects for exploitation, he listens to these kids. There are a lot of effective performances in this movie. Jao Mapa generates a pitch-perfect depiction of unraveling sanity and newfound passion. He's a treat here, maintaining emotional authority and crisp timing as Chipper. Mark Anthony Fernandez elevates Francis from a potentially offensive stereotype to high comedy. Also impressive is Jomari Yllana as Mackie, who captures exaggeration without abandoning his character's humanity.

     One of the best things in this new hi-def release is palette reproduction which captures nice elements like costuming. The entire transfer is on the soft side to the point that even some extreme close-ups don't offer fine detail. Outdoor or brightly lit scenes deliver the best detail, but even then softness is often pretty prevalent with gauzy, diffused and effulgent halos (not of the digitally sharpened variety) tend to tamp down detail levels. The grain field is also fairly variant in looking organic or even readily apparent, with again, the brighter scenes looking the best. Some of the darker scenes in fact flirt with compression hurdles that traipse around macro blocking territory at times. All of this said, there is still enough of a substantial uptick in palette and detail levels from the previous home video release. Pare Ko features a nice sounding 2.0 track. The film doesn't have that distinctive, instantly identifiable, score but offers a decent stereo spread at times. Sound effects land with overwhelming force and dialogue is always delivered clearly and with good prioritization. Reyes has it good with his cast and material, submitting one of his best efforts with Pare Ko which soars at times on sheer invention, making something different out of a genre that often spins with repetition.

Production Designer: Edel Templonuevo, PDGP

Sound: Ramon Reyes

Editor: George Jarlego

Musical Directors: Eric Antonio, Carlo Bulaan

Cinematographer: Ely Cruz, FSC

Written & Directed By: Jose Javier Reyes

     Kid Huwag Kang Susuko (Regal Films, 1987) is an exciting, sweet-tempered, heart-warming story with one of the most interesting friendships in a long time. From the directing team of Peque Gallaga and Lore Reyes, it ends with the same sort of climactic fight scene. But the heart of this movie isn't in the fight sequences, it's in the relationships. In addition to Sawi's (Richard Gomez) friendship with Mr. Tan (Jang Hwan Kim), there's also a sweet romantic liaison with Ogie (Rachel Anne Wolfe), your standard girl from the right side of town. When Sawi is rescued by Mr. Tan, who turns out to be an unlikely karate master from a savage beating exacted by Wrylo’s (Mark Gil) gang of hooligans, Mr. Tan resolves to teach Sawi the ways of karate. What works best in this film is not the glory of Sawi’s predictable victory.

     Actually, the fight scenes in the end consume little screen time, as though the script knows that Sawi will win no matter what, so why dwell on it? The fights are brief, not even the karate match between Sawi and Wrylo is dragged out too long for dramatic effect. We are more concerned about Sawi gaining enough confidence. As Mr. Tan teaches honor and balance where spirit and body are superior concepts to destroying everything in one’s path with a karate chop. Such principles are what one takes away from a viewing of Kid Huwag Kang Susuko, the violent aspects of martial arts are almost completely forgotten next to these values and so the film remains highly resonant on both emotional and moral planes. And even though it contains a dated quality and the conflict has been grossly exaggerated by inhuman antagonists, on its own and separate from what came after it, Kid Huwag Kang Susuko still works on a very basic level today.

     Two key elements lift Apocalypse Child (Skinny People Productions, Arkeofilms, 2015) beyond formula, at least for most of its running time. The particulars of the film's Baler setting, with its extreme natural beauty and the strength that the central character, played with quiet ferocity by Sid Lucero finds through surfing. Director Mario Cornejo doesn't give the story's contrivances their intended impact even with strong performances notably Ana Abad Santos's eye-opening turn. She nails the self-absorbed mother's tangle of parental sincerity and ineptitude, while diving fearlessly into Chona's desperately needy and often humiliating self-destructiveness. But there's a wild beauty to more than match the narrative's shortcomings. Much as Ford (Lucero) is most at home on the ocean, the filmmaking is most fluent when filtered through the silver glitter of the surf. Contemporary but eraless, the movie has a '70s feel, from the muted palette of the production design and costumes to the sun-washed light, movingly captured in Ike Avellana's camerawork. The undercurrent of foreboding in Armi Millare's gentle acoustic score is in sync with all the characters. But it's Ford's steady searching against the flailing of almost everyone around him that keeps the story afloat. It is the film’s great fortune that the leads are portrayed by an exceptional team of actors, starting with Lucero, who is the calm eye at the center of the storm. The bellows of this tempest come from Santos, who ably depicts the demanding neediness of the vulnerable matriarch. Yet Cornejo's filmmaking never rises to the level of his cast’s nuanced performances. The actors are energized, but the camera enervates. It alternates wanly between shaky close-ups and indifferent establishing shots.

     Apocalypse Child's 1080p transfer, like most new high definition releases is flawless. The image enjoys a perfectly filmic texture, a slight layer of grain accentuates the many splendid colors and quality details that are visible in every frame. Indeed, the transfer carries the many lush hues of Baler beautifully whether natural greens and sparkling blue waters or the many bright shades and accents found on surf boards, swim trunks and the like, the transfer leaves no color behind and displays each one with a naturalism that's second to none. Fine detailing is another strength, whether smaller little touches like grains of sand and foamy surf waters or more generalized facial and clothing details, the transfer sees each element through. A few nighttime scenes yield exquisitely natural blacks and while flesh tones appear to favor a warmish shade, they seem in-line with the expected coloring of people living much of their lives in the sun of Baler. Apocalypse Child's 5.1 soundtrack isn't as energetic and powerful, but it's nevertheless technically proficient and nicely absorbing. The film is more often than not a dialogue-intensive drama, the spoken word flows naturally from the center speaker but is flanked by ambience. The film's score enjoys pinpoint clarity, seamless spacing all over the soundstage and a heftiness that gives it full body without coming across as excessively or unnaturally heavy. Ambience, often coming in the form of crashing waves and the tranquility of beachside elegance flows effortlessly from side-to-side and front-to-back, effectively transporting the listener to the waters and sandy shores of Baler. It's not the most exciting soundtrack in the world, but the execution leaves nothing to be desired. In Apocalypse Child even the sea seems stifled.

Directed By: Mario Cornejo

Written By: Mario Cornejo, Monster Jimenez

Cinematographer: Ike Avellana

Editor: Lawrence S. Ang

Production Designer: Christina Dy

Sound Designer: Corinne de san Jose

Music: Armi Millare

     For all the romances the movies have given us, there are precious few that show two people gradually falling in love. Contemporary romantic comedies generally engineer a movie-long feud that builds to a climactic smooch, weepies go for insta-passion shorthand, the better to clear the way for whatever ludicrous tragedy its lovers have in store. And that makes sense as the realistic alternative with ardent feelings accumulating bit by bit over time, in a context devoid of manufactured conflict seems like it would be too politely dull to endure. All the same, that perfectly describes Olivia M. Lamasan's Minsan, Minahal Kita (Star Cinema, 2000). It's a beautiful star-crossed romance distinguished by an understated tone and perfectly modulated performances. Intelligent and refreshingly adult, the movie weaves a hypnotic spell as it tells the tale of two married people who develop a casual rapport and soon find themselves swept up in an unexpected and unwanted affair. Rarely has a film explored the spiritual side of love with such tenderness and perception and so successfully exuded the debilitating ache of unfulfilled longing.

     Most importantly, it's the performances which make Minsan, Minahal Kita such an unforgettable film. Sharon Cuneta is extraordinary, conveying with great subtlety and pathos, the torment of a love affair that takes possession of her character. The sense of aching loss she shows towards the end of the film is so real, it is almost unbearable to watch, a naked spectacle of desolation and anguish. Richard Gomez complements her well, displaying a mix of quiet strength and delicate warmth that's utterly believable. Minsan, Minahal Kita fully registers the surging of emotion. It is because the social pressures and the genuine appeal of conformity are both so meticulously realized, that the desire to love against the grain comes across so powerfully. Far from lacking emotion, the film is throbbing with it, but also registering that emotion cannot be pinned down, summed up, that emotion is overwhelming. That is why Minsan, Minahal Kita is not only a lovely film, but a vibrantly good film.

     The restoration work has produced very impressive results and the film looks spectacular in high-definition. Not only is depth and color stability substantially improved, but there are entire sections of the film where various small details have been revealed. Dirt and debris have been meticulously removed, leaving a clean image that allows us to fully invest ourselves in this heartbreaking tale. The audio treatment is very impressive. Clearly, during the restoration, various audio stabilizations have been performed while hiss, hum, clicks and pops have been removed as best as possible. As a result, the dialog is stable, crisp and easy to follow. This is another stellar effort that beautifully salutes this tender, uncertain romance.

Directed By: Olivia M. Lamasan

Screenplay: Ricky Lee, Olivia M. Lamasan

Director of Photography: Shayne Sarte-Clemente, FSC

Film Editor: George Jarlego

Production Design: Manny B. Morfe, PDGP

Musical Director: Archie Castillo

Sound Supervision: Ramon Reyes, STAMP

     Once Sara (Vilma Santos) and Eric (Ronaldo Valdez) meet, Karma (Sining Silangan, 1981) stumbles. Danny L. Zialcita and the cast never communicate what is so special about Sara and Eric’s love. On what level are the two connecting? All we know is that they are both attractive, involved with other people and like Elvis Presley's '60s version of It's Now or Never. We are essentially asked to accept their great love as a given simply because they are the leads in a romantic movie. When the two finally get to spend a day together, the film resorts to that most tired of romance movie clichés, the montage of the couple together outdoors. Zialcita shoots it all in soft focus, looking pleasant and romantic, but it feels like a lazy cheat, like Zialcita dodging having to write and show scenes of genuine bonding. As Eric, Valdez is sincere and that’s about it. There isn’t much for him to work with. Santos makes a better impression, she’s so beautiful and charming that it’s easy to imagine Eric wanting to be with her. She has some good moments in the early stages of the romance, displaying initial trepidation and caution which later gives way to an engaging sense of playfulness. Santos gets one of the film’s most memorable scenes, when Sara finally expresses her love for Eric. It’s one of the rare times a character speaks deeply from the heart. It successfully conveys the genuinely romantic tone most of the movie tries but fails to achieve and is a hint of what the film might have been. Chanda Romero works to bring shading to her role as Cristy, Eric's jealous wife but it’s all too obvious that she’s just there to be an obstacle for the lovers, a plot device in a natty suit and nothing more. Tommy Abuel has a more memorable turn as Sara's unforgiving husband Alfredo.

     Even with the film’s obvious shortcomings, it’s not hard to understand Karma’s appeal. What romantic wouldn’t be drawn to a tale of a pure love that transcends time, of lovers overcoming overwhelming obstacles to be together? It’s an attractive fantasy and the film serves it up with likable stars, lovely settings and music that could tug at the heartstrings of the coldest cynic. The film is unapologetically old-fashioned, a rarity at the time it was released and even more unusual now. These things make Karma special and worth celebrating and its flaws easy to overlook. L’Immagine Ritrovata’s extensive restoration is a dramatic improvement over the Viva Video DVD. The disc featured a noisy, grainy, pan and scan transfer that did the film no favors. This HD digital release finally gives the movie a worthwhile home video presentation with a beautiful, crisp and colorful transfer that is significantly less grainy while retaining a natural-looking film texture. Certain scenes appear soft, but this accurately reflects Zialcita and cinematographer Felizardo Bailen’s selective use of diffusion filters and is not a flaw of the transfer. The 2.0 audio won’t blow away anyone’s speakers, but the track is clear with good range and Gilbert Gregorio’s score comes across well in the mix. Although the film itself may be flawed, this is a superior high definition release that is highly recommended for incurable romantics.

Film Editor: Enrique Jarlego Sr.

Cinematographer: Felizardo Bailen

Music By: Gilbert Gregorio

Screenplay By: Danny L. Zialcita

Direction: Danny L. Zialcita