SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     The tragicomic absurdity of cultural morality is the target of filmmaker Joselito Altarejos' latest feature, Finding Daddy Blake (2076Kolektib, MC Productions, 2023), an unpredictable blast that invites us into its outrage. In the process of recounting the country’s most recent atrocities, Altarejos' funny juxtaposition bursts with the irony of a society too horny to care for its more serious matters. Finding Daddy Blake consolidates the impulses found across Altarejos' work. It’s the searing approach that provides the foundation, giving him justifiable ammo for deepening the surrounding narrative by rooting it in a larger argument. Altarejos' analytic format opposes contemporary media’s narrative failures — the decadent escapism of mainstream cinema that hasn’t gotten up to speed about the pandemic but still treats moviegoers like children who need relentless distraction with entertainment. In the meantime, we see hard sexual innuendos everywhere. It’s an unexpectedly funny way for Altarejos to explore social hypocrisy. What starts as a head-scratching ordeal slowly becomes a hilarious satire on politics and social standards. Paolo's (Jonathan Ivan Rivera) unlucky cosplay signifies a personal restlessness that gets lost into a heedless culture. But sex videos is not what Altarejos finds obscene. He’s riled by the hypocrisy that has become the new normal. It is the shocking immediacy of keeping up with the world and often getting ahead of it — or at least getting ahead of his peers and sometimes, his audience. 

     Signs of the COVID pandemic, the mask-wearing are overlays of absurdity in this expansive social satire. It has something about what is wrong with contemporary life, as long as they don't mind the occasional interjection. What Altarejos posits is that society is the real pandemic portrayed here in an interesting manner. In a captivating scene largely predicated on Dexter Doria's unmatched ability to make Elvira Lopez’s cruelty so charismatic, owning the room, the camera, bending the scene to her will, Altarejos opts for the thornier, more difficult to pinpoint approach of giving us a powerful woman who takes advantage of peoples’ affections, does favors here and there and makes promises in the most banal, quietly damaging way. Doria's way with the angularity of her face and the camera feels thought-through and even more impressively, it’s great, delicious fun. Rivera showcases the grip Paolo has on his life, the controlled sense of domination he exudes. Even as Paolo’s hold over his life becomes tenuous and he begins to lose control over his own narrative, Rivera’s nuanced portrayal captures his character’s cracking shell, the boiling temper and fear that sits beneath the surface. As Antonio, Oliver Aquino's performance complements Carlos Dala (Elijah) and Tommy Alejandrino's (Kokoy) calculated intensity in every scene. Finding Daddy Blake embraces the pessimism and cynicism in Altarejos' vision of individuals and society. The social structure is hopelessly broken-down and narrow-minded stupidity will always find itself reinforced by the bureaucratic rituals of everyday life. It’s somewhat facile to ascribe a bleak sense of humor to our past experiences even if there’s an element of truth in that stereotype.

Written and Directed By: Joselito Altarejos

Cinematographer: Manuel Garcellano

Editor: Jay Altarejos

Musical Scorer: Marco Bertillo Mata

Sound Designer: Andrew Millalos

     Kasunduan (Cinebro, 2018) is a drama of the interpenetration of an ostensibly legitimate society - underground sports and the violent reign of organized crime. The central plotline is August Montemayor’s (Ejay Falcon) vaunted independence. The little world to which he belongs and the larger one to which he connects is a man’s world. Yet Kasunduan doesn’t psychologize his behavior. The logic is clear and consistent and the action doesn’t come off as willful symbolism. Rather, August's character isn’t diagnosed or traced to specific personal experiences or explained by aspects of backstory. The peculiarity of the film and its enduring inspiration is August's transformation into an opaque and external unit, a negative mirror that makes him a perfect and closed embodiment of the milieu to which he belongs. What consumes him in the wider world is equalled by the self-shredding fury of his suffering which also gets its supreme expression in fighting. Lawrence Fajardo films the underground fighting sequence in kinetic closeups that render the cruelty and the pleasure in inflicting pain, the destructive frenzy, the passion, and the virtual serenity of agony and grace in suffering. When August is ferociously beaten, showing him in a terrifyingly patient exaltation of anticipation of pain is a moment of conscience in torment that glows and flares only briefly, but with an intensity to burn a hole in the screen. The compact, compressed solidity with which August’s unilluminated, impersonal character is composed makes him not a cipher or a void but a distillation of the worst of the particular world he lives in and a paradoxical hero whose ability to win is itself an indictment of the world at large. From the metaphor of fighting to succeed, August actually fights with carnal possessiveness. From discarding traditional morality comes cavalier indifference. 

     Fajardo doesn’t dramatize the process but, rather, unites the action and the character with the milieu which is why so much of the best of Kasunduan is less a matter of action than of inaction, of potential energy, of the storm that’s brewing rather than the one that’s unleashed. The movie’s palette stylizes the drama and abstracts the action, detaching it from immediate experience and emphasizing stark lines and forms at the expense of detail, ideas in lieu of specifics. Kasunduan is distinguished from Fajardo’s later films by its stillness and abstraction. This matter of style is another thing that Kasunduan shares with A Hard Day (2021) and Fajardo conjures his ideas with similar dramatic strategy. It’s a film of gazes and pauses, of the power of the unexpressed and the undisplayed, of a mental life that expands beyond one character’s thoughts that echo outward as the common state of things. Long takes, featuring talk in near-stillness, in off-balance compositions that emphasize empty spaces before or behind characters are shot and edited to emphasize suspended moments which are terrifyingly tense with the violence that feeds them. There’s a widespread and mistaken notion that humanism in Filipino cinema is inseparable from the meticulous detailing of personal motives and histories. This has led to the commonplace of describing commercial films as plot-driven and artistically ambitious ones as character-driven and to presume that the latter belongs to the realm of finer feelings and broader conscience. Fajardo’s best films rely on character and psychology as springboards for action that nonetheless surpasses its personal specifics to develop through aesthetic ideas, a philosophical vision.

Sound Supervision: Immanuel T. Verona, Aian Louie D. Caro

Music By: Peter Legaste, Rephael Catap

Edited By: Law Fajardo

Cinematography By: Albert Banzon

Screenplay By: Enrico N. Santos, Anton Santa Maria, Rennes Soriano, John Bedia

Directed By: Lawrence Fajardo

     Much like Kapag Tumabang ang Asin (1976), T-Bird at Ako (Film Ventures, Inc., 1982) peaks to the creative and sometimes delusional nature of desire. Director Danny L. Zialcita plays their pettiness for some great laughs but at its core, the film expresses something true about love’s power to obliterate all other considerations, including close friendship. T-Bird at Ako is a little too neatly drawn, but Zialcita's enthusiasm and vitality compensate for more than they rationally should. This is a film easier to love than to like. Zialcita has a great feel for hip sophisticates in deep conversations, he also has a great eye. With cinematographer Felizardo Bailen, they've made T-Bird at Ako into a stylish affair. There is cleverness in the film's many tight shots that do double duty, playing to the intimacy of the piece as well as eliminating the need for elaborate sets. There are risky plot choices along the way, but the risks are what keeps the pot boiling as the complexities of the relationship between lady lawyer Sylvia Salazar (Nora Aunor) and night club dancer Isabel Mongcal (Vilma Santos) heat up and cool down. It all serves to make T-Bird at Ako a delightful romance charged with fierce intelligence. As Sylvia, Aunor is the picture of watchful uncertainty whose mixture of physical presence and self-mockery contributes to the film’s quirky, offbeat mood. Her performance is the best reason to see the movie. Santos manages to convey much sensuality infusing Isabel with complexity. 

     This new high definition transfer reveals the movie like never before, yielding a picture so pristine that watching it is practically like seeing the film for the first time. It's clean yet filmic. Obvious elements like skin and clothing textures reveal some of the most innately complex details imaginable, down to the most nuanced fabrics. The biggest improvements however, are in the area of color reproduction. There are completely new color tonalities and saturation is far better. As a result, the entire film looks richer and lusher. Interiors are beautiful, yielding an inviting warmth that’s substantially more nuanced and exacting. Unfortunately, the film's two-channel track is woefully dull and uninspired. Dialogue is often poorly prioritized, effects are typically brazen and weak. None of it strangles the presentation, at least not completely, but it all takes a significant toll. In an earlier scene, Isabel dances to the tune of Queen's Body Language. The song was replaced with a mediocre version of the original ruining the punchline to the greatest joke near the end of the movie. The audio mix is frustrating at worst, but for the viewer who just wants to watch, it's not a bad little endeavor.

Sound Engineer: Rudy Baldovino

Director of Photography: Felizardo Bailen

Film Editor: Enrique Jarlego, Sr.

Screenplay: Portia Ilagan

Directed By: Danny L. Zialcita

     Romy Suzara’s Somewhere (Viva Films, 1984) achieves thematic unity through its theme, that man is a victim of circumstances. Silvio Logarte (Rudy Fernandez), is imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. Similarly, his attack on Logan (Johnny Delgado) is as much a product of fear for his own life as it is revenge for the death of his best friend Tengteng (Dencio Padilla). In a sense, Silvio is guiltless, both legally and morally. Despite his innocence, he is convicted, discriminated against and finally killed. Somewhere succeeds by putting violence in its rightful place. It is violent because the film can only end in violence. Fernandez, in a powerful performance is able to show Silvio's charm and violent side. He navigates every nuance of Silvio's soul, showing the haunted logic of a man shut out of society. Somewhere has a blunt, repetitive structure. Essentially, it’s one victimization scene after another. Yet the movie's paradox is singing sensation Shirley Morena (Lorna Tolentino) as she slips into her role as Silvio's obsession, Shirley begins to come alive as a character. Tolentino has an emotional presence bringing out her tremulous vulnerability. To break free, Shirley looked into Silvio's eyes and when she finally does, it’s a triumph to savor. 

     This high definition release is sourced from a pre-existing master. The majority of the well-lit close-ups, for instance, boast decent depth. Shadow definition could be better managed. A full restoration would undoubtedly produce an overall balanced image. Contrast levels remain stable. Fluidity is good, but occasionally some light unevenness pops up. Grain is present throughout the entire film, but it could be better resolved. Still, despite some very small fluctuations there are no troubling anomalies. Colors are stable and natural but some small nuances are missing. There are no large debris, cuts, stains, damage marks or warped frames. There is room for improvement and a brand new master would have certainly given the film a fresher appearance, but this is a fine organic presentation making it easy to enjoy even on fairly large screens. The audio has not been remastered, in fact, in segments where George Canseco's score has a prominent role, depth and balance are surprisingly good. The dialog is clean, stable, and easy to follow. Somewhere is a story of pain and courage, uncommonly honest and unflinching.

Production Design: Manny Morfe

Musical Director: George Canseco

Director of Photography: Ernie de la Paz

Film Editor: Ike Jarlego, Jr.

Sound Supervision: Vic Macamay

Screenplay: Jose N. Carreon, Orlando Nadres

Directed By: Romy Suzara

     Romantic comedies are only as good as their leads and To Love Again (Viva Films, 1983) is no exception. It's already hard to imagine the movie without Sharon Cuneta and Miguel Rodriguez. Their chemistry is perfect and permeating even without contrived moments of romantic tension. Danny Zialcita also benefited from his actors' pitch-perfect comedic timing and propensity for subtle but effective physical comedy. Watching Raffy (Cuneta) and Bullet  (Rodriguez) together is a delight every time. What's also delightful is Zialcita's quirky script. It's filled with all the wackiness you'd expect in a movie like this, but with filled out characters and backstories. What's so refreshing about To Love Again is that every character has a moment. Liza Lorena (Clarita) is a consummate performer and plays steely better than anyone else in the business. Even supporting players Tommy Abuel (Rodolfo), Suzanne Gonzales (Nina) and Rodolfo "Boy” Garcia (Raoul) all have their moments to shine. Still, Cuneta and Rodriguez are the stars here and drive To Love Again with incredible charm. You can't manufacture charm in a movie like this. It takes talent. And there's a lot of talent behind this movie. 

     The release is sourced from a very old master supplied by Viva Films. It is a mostly serviceable, occasionally decent looking print, but it is awfully easy to tell that To Love Again should have looked vastly superior in high-definition. This digitally enhanced version simply cannot give the film the consistently strong organic appearance it needed to impress the right way. Some close-ups can look quite good, but then there are outdoor shots that lacked proper delineation and depth. It does help that there are no traces of problematic digital adjustments, but you will keep noticing how highlights, darker nuance and shadow definition are not optimal. The entire film should have a range of healthy colors, again, there are parts of the movie that looks decent but saturation and balance could've been better. I noticed a few flecks and even a couple of blemishes, but there are no distracting large cuts, damage marks, warped or torn frames. To Love Again is the perfect example of broad romantic comedy done right. It adheres to the formula for the most part but isn't afraid to break. It has its own style and moves to the beat of its own drum.

Production Design: Peter Perlas

Director of Photography: Felizardo Bailen, FSC

Film Editor: George Jarlego

Supervising Editor: Enrique Jarlego, Sr.

Sound Supervision: Rudy Baldovino

Musical Director: George Canseco

Screenplay: Mike Vergara

Directed By: Danny Zialcita