SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     Filmmaker Roman Perez Jr. is a genuine obsessive who directs like an avant-garde butcher. His films play off a central juxtaposition: At the same time his characters are behaving like pigs, his style is one of luxuriously controlled aestheticism. On one level you can describe the movie simply in terms of the characters and the lustful and unspeakable things they do to one another. On another level, there is no end to the ideas stirred up by this movie. Between, there lies a simple tale of adultery, jealousy and revenge. The artifice is a great part of the work's effectiveness. Perez's stroke of genius is to create a self-consciously false world peopled with character types who slowly become real enough to evoke pain and sadness. The dark comic moments in Litsoneras (Viva Films, 2023) are rare, but they do sneak in at unexpected times. Things take a turn for the worse when Minerva (Jamilla Obispo), with uncoy vigor, takes a lover right under her husband Eloy's (Joko DIaz) nose. Jonas (Victor Relosa) exhanges glances with Minerva and soon, her daughter Elria (Yen Durano) catches them making love. Their unabashedly revealed sexual adventure continues. Elria gains her revenge by having sex with Jonas. Eloy gets wind of the affair and the battle lines are drawn. If Litsoneras were any less explicit, that moral battle would certainly have been diminished.

     Supergirl (Prima Productions, 1973) is never as boldly witty as Lipad, Darna, Lipad!  When it goes for campy laughs, it falls flat on its face. Even Odette Khan, who seems to be vastly enjoying her mad scientist role, is constrained by the mildness of the material. Pinky makes a four-square heroine of unrelenting sincerity, but she's hardly a live wire. Female superheroes as a genre didn’t have much of history outside of comic books, the Vilma Santos Darna series being the only notable one at the time. The appearance of Supergirl is an indication if the producers ever consciously knew the real secret of the movies is to laugh condescendingly at the characters (which is what the writer, director and even some of the actors have started to do). We go to recapture some of the lost innocence of the whole notion of superheroes. And the result is an unfunny, unexciting movie. Supergirl counters most of the bad elements without much effort, so not much drama to be found there. Aside from confronting a giant, monstrous frog and thwarting the undead we don’t get much in the way of cool Supergirl action, none of this is particularly impressive.

     I must confess to a special fondness for comedies in which the rules of time, space and logic are suspended so that misguided people can straighten themselves out. Here Comes the Groom's (Quantum Films, Cineko Productions, Brightlight Productions, 2023) measure of integrity is that it moves smoothly, convincingly and with minimal self-consciousness from farce to earnest sentiment, earning your tears at the climactic rapprochement because it has treated you so generously to laughter on the way. Loud but never coarse, candid without being prurient, Here Comes the Groom is a quick-witted, perfectly modulated farce with a pair of beautifully matched performances from Keempee de Leon and especially Enchong Dee, who does some of his best work ever. Both tears and laughter arise from writer-director Chris Martinez's canny and unforced understanding of what makes his characters tick. Rodrigo (De Leon) and Junior (Dee) are recognizable types but also solid individuals, something that becomes clear only after their identity swap. In De Leon, we see the wistfulness and uncertainty beside his facade of brisk confidence. Similarly, it is only when Junior (Dee) is thrown into Wilhelmina's (KaladKaren) person that his strong, passionate ardor comes into full view. 

     Dee's performance is a marvel. He bounds beyond mimicry and gimmickry. He’s nothing short of dazzling as he enjoys one of his relatively rare opportunities to showcase his splendid comic timing and graceful physicality. De Leon always had an undercurrent of playfulness, his masterful interpretation of Wanda’s (Xilhouete) persona from voice inflection to simple hand gestures is frighteningly accurate yet funny. Sheer perfection! With a natural and nuanced ease, he just gets better with every role. Early scenes are a tad too over-emphatic, almost strident, really as Martinez errs on the side of obviousness while setting up familiar premise. Once he completes his expository duties, Martinez lightens his touch to allow for a freer, friskier sort of comedic interplay. Here Comes the Groom comes complete with maxims about seeing life through someone else’s eyes and appreciating the pressures brought to bear on loved ones. To his credit, Martinez sugar-coats the bite-sized life lessons with humor and verve. A strong supporting cast including Tony Labrusca, whose character Hans reveals surprising depth and decency in a key scene. Gladys Reyes on the other hand is a comic delight as Rodrigo's sprightly wife, Salve. A winning combination of acting, writing and direction, Here Comes the Groom will have you wondering what freak of nature occurred to bring us this delightfully refreshing comedy.

Sound Design: Janinna Minglanilla, Emilio Bien Sparks

Music: Emerzon Texon

Editor: Dennis Austria Salgado

Production Design: Angel Diesta

Director of Photography: Moises M.M. Zee, LPS

Written and Directed By; Chris Martinez

     The luminescent tryst between Baby (Vilma Santos) and Roy (Phillip Salvador) in Baby Tsina (Viva Films, 1984) remains to be Marilou Diaz-Abaya’s most complex and revelatory examination of unfulfilled love. She doesn’t solely rely on the flashier aspects of her patented style to convey a character’s fated desires or failures. She positions individuals as pieces of a larger mosaic, one populated by burgeoning and disintegrating relationships that reach beyond the frame. This construct produces subtext-heavy conversations containing real conflict and tension at their core. As Baby Tsina turns into a masterful dissection of loyalty, Ricardo Lee's dialogue expresses the characters’ way of maneuvering around emotional responsibility, of circumventing the betrayals that are lingering in plain sight. This conflict builds for long sequences before erupting in stunning moments of physical violence. In this very banal-looking world, unfulfilled desire turns sour from all the repression and guilt. Baby and Roy's conversations grow shorter and more kinetic, jumping past the traditional banter. The unique ways emotional expression shifts mid-moment really distinguishes the film as an organic work, a morphing cinematic experience that changes with the years to fit our individual perspective of unrequited love. Unlike the showy emotional relationships in Abaya’s other films, the connection between Baby and Roy feels bonded in actual human emotion. Baby Tsina centers around the title character - played with gusto by an always illuminating Santos. Her tremendous poise, visible at once in the opening credit sequence introducing the tone and protagonist of this very different film. The precisely-edited sequence serves Santos exceedingly well. 

     Presented in its original aspect ratio of 1.85:1 and granted a 1080p transfer, Baby Tsina is sourced from an older master with some obvious limitations. As a result, the technical presentation is somewhat inconsistent. While most close-ups convey fairly decent depth the larger shots tend to look rather flat. During nighttime footage or elsewhere where light is intentionally restricted shadow definition also isn't as good as it should be; select segments are too dark and some detail is lost. Generally speaking colors are stable, but in two different scenes I noticed very light but short color pulsations. There are no traces of sharpening adjustments, but grain should be better exposed and resolved. During a couple of darker segments some light halo effects can be spotted as well. Overall image stability is good. Lastly, a few minor flecks pop up here and there, but there are no large cuts, damage marks, or torn frames. The film has what I consider to be a soundtrack that breathes much easier here than it does on previous video release. Generally speaking, dynamic intensity is more pronounced, but even during the more casual footage there are obvious improvements in terms of depth (these are very easy to hear during the action scenes). However, there is still room for improvement as some nuances in the mid- register appear a bit flat. Baby Tsina is perhaps one of the most successful protagonist Ricardo Lee has crafted. Her desires and motivations are clear, and her thought process is shown in full. And best of all, she feels real.

Screenplay: Ricardo Lee

Musical Director: Willie Cruz

Sound Supervision: Vic Macamay

Production Design: Fiel Zabat

Film Editor: Ike Jarlego, Jr.

Director of Photography: Manolo R. Abaya

Directed By: Marilou Diaz-Abaya

     The self-destructive nature of searching for meaning, for a partner has long fascinated Elwood Perez. In Lupe A Seaman's Wife (Viva Films, 2003), he strips bare that hopeless pursuit. In those diurnal moments, the unexceptional motions that make up a relationship, Perez disinters the pleasures (however brief) and pain of love. Lupe (Andrea del Rosario) is longing for love. Hers is a Sisyphean desperation. Lupe is a woman with a powerful erotic drive and an indefatigable penchant for verbalizing her emotions. We first find Lupe having energetic sex with her husband Manolo (Leandro Muñoz) humping away and one may wonder if this is a portrait of a liberated woman or a glimpse from the male gaze. Del Rosario is relaxed, nervy, alert and overtly sexy as I can remember seeing her. Perez finds the inexorable beauty (and sadness) in the most corrosive and fugacious of feelings. For Lupe, love is a toxic need. Perez isn’t known for letting his characters have traditionally happy endings and the tragedy here is how normal that feels, how futile love can be for the unlovable.