SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     In Lino Brocka's Maynila sa mga Kuko Ng Liwanag (Cinema Artists, 1975), Manila is a libertarian dystopia where poverty breeds its own predators and victims as the city's poor grasp for the little wealth that hasn't yet been distributed. When Julio Madiaga (Rafael Roco Jr,), a young man from the province arrives in Manila to search for his lost love Ligaya Paraiso (Hilda Koronel), he's robbed of what little cash he has. Forced to work so he can afford the bare necessities of life, Julio finds a job in an unsafe construction site in which the workers allow their employer to pocket a chunk of their pay for fear of losing their only job. Soon, Julio finds himself working as a male prostitute even if it requires a different kind of sacrifice. Brocka's Manila is ambivalent to Julio's pain and its indifference, the city stamps out every glimmer of hope in his life. There's a deep undercurrent of anger and frustration to Julio's journey. A casual conversation between construction workers is followed by a fatal accident when a rope holding a bucket of water is released and falls from the height of a few stories. At this moment, the smooth, neorealist-influenced camerawork is traded for a quickly edited shot/reverse-shot montage between the bucket and the face of the man standing below it. The bucket hits him and he dies. Stupid, meaningless and avoidable. This harsh, stylized moment of violence, one of several, contrasts with the more subdued tone of the rest of the film. It's a signal to the audience that no matter how hard the characters struggle, this world is indifferent to their pain. Even as Julio scours the city, building relationships with people he meets and getting closer to his goal of finding Ligaya, these short fits of violence and emotion disrupt the complacency of the characters to their situation, suggesting that there's tragedy to be found in their acceptance of such a fate. Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag, with its extended scenes of working-class struggle punctuated by moments of harrowing, highly stylized violence suggests that violent reactions should be expected from a society that preys on the vulnerable. By the time Julio reaches his final confrontation with Ah Tek (Tommy Yap), an act of stupid, violent catharsis feels like his only possible course of action. 

     Lupita A. Concio’s Minsa’y Isang Gamu-Gamo (Premiere Productions, Inc.,1976) is one of those films whose great qualities put its elements in sharp relief. Proof is in Nora Aunor’s performance, a chameleonic disappearance into the role. The way she inhabits Corazon de la Cruz with wounded grace is overwhelming work. Concio employs long takes that lets her breathe, and uses close-ups sparingly, but with tremendous effectiveness. A shot of Corazon and her mother Chedeng (Gloria Sevilla) by the window, watching a funeral pass by ranks among the best moments in the careers of those involved. Additionally, Marina Feleo Gonzalez’s dialogue is natural and smart, delivered by Aunor with masterly authenticity. She achieves an outstanding height in this performance. Her voice is tender, lilting, mellifluous. Aunor carefully unravels her character with surgical precision that seems to elevate her character, one which could easily be written off if done by actresses of lesser talent. Aunor has shown throughout her career that she can do anything. Her face, a mobile canvas onto which she paints angst, confusion, and deep melancholy, is masterly. Minsa’y Isang Gamu-Gamo features what still remains Aunor’s most complex film performance, solidifying her as an actress of tremendous faculties and overall technical prowess. Her range evokes envy and her presence is indomitable. Aunor’s moving treatment of the material is some of the finest screen time she has ever occupied. It established her reputation for tugging at the heartstrings in with a unique kind of emotional control. Concio knows how to draw outstanding performances from talented actors. Jay Ilagan conveys Boni's humanity with heart-warming profundity. As Carlito, Eddie Villamayor is intelligent and affecting, but not cloying. It also helps that Perla Bautista and Paquito Salcedo are so good at what they do that they can summon a legacy of hurt with as little as a broken smile.

     Minsa'y Isang Gamu-Gamo is presented on Blu-ray courtesy of Kani Releasing with an AVC encoded 1080p transfer in an aspect ratio of 1.85:1. The following is from the insert booklet, 

"This transfer of Lupita A. Concio's 1976 Minsa'y Isang Gamu-Gamo (Once a Moth) originates from an incomplete 35mm print held by the ABS-CBN Film Archives supplemented by elements provided by the Film Development Council of the Philippines (FDCP). Due to the advanced deterioration of the latter element, the first half of the first reel-the initial nine minutes-appears here as significantly soft and distorted. After careul consideration of the film's historical significance and our belief in the importance of Sagip-Pelikula, ABS-CBN's ongoing restoration project, we have elected to release the film as is on home video with additional context for the restoration-and its material limitations-provided in the supplemental features. Please approach the transfer with understanding and empathy." 

Saturation levels are good and nicely rendered. Greens, blues and reds in particular pop with considerable authority. I noticed some slight fluctuations in color temperature, and a couple of dark moments have a slightly blue tinge at times. Clarity and grain can also vary as the film ventures between more controlled interior locales. There is only one standard audio track on this Blu-ray release: Tagalog LPCM 1.0. Optional English subtitles are provided for the main feature. The lossless audio track is very good. Excluding one short segment where a light echo effect appears during the exchanges otherwise, stability is excellent. The music is nicely balanced as well. Dynamic intensity is limited, but given the organic nature of the original sound design this should not be surprising. The end of Minsa'y Isang Gamu-Gamo is startingly moving. The feelings Concio evokes in the last scenes are earned: they encapsulate the whole story, and it stays with you long after the movie is over.

Musical Director: Restie Umali

Film Editor: Edgardo Vinarao

Screenplay: Marina Feleo-Gonzalez

Cinematography: Jose Batac, Jr.

Direction: Lupita A. Concio

     The astute new thriller Kamadora (Viva Films, 2023) is one of those rare movies that reinforce their themes with an insinuating, sustained tone. Its atmosphere becomes a stylistic precondition for the impulse to surrender. As a rule, filmmaker Roman Perez, Jr.'s control is so unerring that the occasional miscalculations seem unusually disruptive. A director skillful enough to impose a style can also lull you into a false sense of security. Caught up in the unfolding narrative, you forget that everyone is subject to lapses of judgment and concentration. Moreover, it's clear that sexual heat fuels the plot, inspiring a breakdown of inhibitions that transcends mere fornication. In this context, Perez would probably be justified in wallowing much more graphically in sex acts than he chooses to. He prefers to make his points incisively. Perez employs a narrative device that allows Ica to share her confessions with the audience. Kamadora is filled with a number of unusually well written characters, superbly performed by a cast of comparatively new actors. Tiffany Grey's entrance announces that Ica is the film's center of power. Grey is an intriguing original. Slender, with hair down to her shoulders, the pitch in her voice gives a playful edge to the challenging dialogue. Even in Perez's devious scheme of things it would be preferable if Ica were encountered more often in situations with other characters. I don't think there's any aspect, sincere or treacherous that Grey couldn't embody if asked to. Her slight physical assertion and urgency are scarcely reassuring to begin with. She obviously means trouble, but how much trouble?

     In retrospect, you understand why Perez feels impelled to play Ica's motives close to the vest. Still, it's a sneaky necessity that probably costs him a satisfying denouement and a certain amount of good will, particularly when viewers begin reflecting on the plot and discusses the twists and subterfuges. Perez can't achieve the emotional identification with Ica that comes naturally when dealing with Dave and other male characters. Victor Relosa is a man with certain arrogance to his speech, as if amused by his own intelligence. He successfully mixes both laconicism and innocence. Relosa’s got an impressive command of seemingly involuntary movement in his facial muscles that appears to reveal unguarded yearning and apprehension. He also has the working actor's versatility. His Dave is a straight leading man with a character actor's particularity. Kamadora has proved an absorbing, tangy entertainment. One may feel a trifle had, but there's little cause for rejection. Moreover, the virtues linger along with the nagging questions: cunning lines of dialogue; evocative setting and crisp, supple imagery; consistently sharp supporting roles and performances. Jun Jun Quintana is startingly effective as Roman, Ica's abusive policeman lover. Angie Castrence plays Aling Adeng who watches over Ica with a cheery but detached curiosity. Elora Españo's Monica is not on long, but what she does is very good. Perez falls short of a foolproof plot, nevertheless, he's got a lot to offer beginning with an intuitive appreciation of the look and atmosphere appropriate to an effective genre thriller.  More important than any of these individual contributions is Perez's easy command of his work as director. There's not a decision in the film that betrays that command, it doesn't look like a director's idea imposed on the characters. Instead it's a revelation of the way Ica sees herself and Dave and the outrageous situation they have feverishly worked themselves into.

Sound Engineer: Aian Louie Caro

Musical Director: Emerzon Texon

Editor: Aymer Alquinto

Screenplay: Ronald Perez

Production Designer: JC Catiggay

Director of Photography: Dino S. Placino

Directed By: Roman Perez, Jr.

     Jason Paul Laxamana's Baby Boy Baby Girl (Viva Films, Ninuno Media, 2023) retains a stylish reserve that would not seem conducive to strong passions. However, the unexpected element here is humor and Laxamana's film has a lot of measured wit. The pathos surrounding Josie (Kylie Verzosa) is in the least bit obscured by Laxamana's predilection for understatement. Baby Boy Baby Girl bottles Josie's inter-personal tensions and slowly simmers them to boil, escalating each situation by just the right amount until the film’s ultimate crescendo and final punchline. The result is a painfully funny comedy that feels universally relatable in its depiction of awkward dynamics very specific to Josie’s experience. Laxamana's approach would have not been nearly as effective were it not for Verzosa’s exquisite performance. Every piercing stare, facial muscle twitch and heightened voice conveys outrage hidden behind her feigned smile. Josie’s interactions with Seb (Marco Gumabao) have its own rhythm and emotional arc. With Seb, there’s a slow suspense of whether or not they will continue their arrangement. Seb needles Josie in front of others and cutting through her facade with direct questions. Their run-ins feel like the highs to their lows, an unsettling roller coaster ride that’s set to crash before long.  

     Baby Boy Baby Girl is a tightly wound movie, with almost every minute dedicated to some kind of moment of strife. The screenplay is packed with several rounds of fast-talking in-fighting, but that rapid fire pacing feeds the contrast between those scenes and the movie’s moments of awkward silence, which become even more painful to watch. As a team, Verzosa and Gumabao share a spot-on sense of comedic timing, knowing just when to throw in the next cutting remark, eye roll, or fake smile. They hit the bullseye each and every time, all the way to the end. Laxamana piles on the complications with the clockwork precision of a Rube Goldberg machine, but never at the service of genuine emotions. When Josie surrenders to the sheer helplessness of being completely overwhelmed, a moment that perhaps lands with more impact after collective isolation. Baby Boy Baby Girl knows that feeling and another important one besides: that in the midst of nonstop stress and distraction, a moment of quiet, unprompted tenderness can make all the difference. The whirling energy surrounding Josie in her hour of panic is what makes the film so engaging. She is the eye of the hurricane, albeit not a calm one by any means.

Sound Engineer: Aian Louie Caro 

Musical Director: Pau Protacio

Editor: Chrisel Desuasido

Production Designer: Lara Mustiola Magbanua

Director of Photography: Rommel Andreo Sales

Written and Directed by: Jason Paul Laxamana

     A thriller conjured out of suppressed fears, Joselito Altarejos' Pamilya sa Dilim (ADCC Productions, 2076 Kolektib, 2023) is a concentration of ecstasy and violence devised in a perfect union of ideological paradox and existential instability. Through a combination of headstrong ambition and opportunistic abandon, Altarejos managed to tap this mother lode of disquietude. The basic premise is so thunderously resonant that it’s easy to overlook the skill with which Altarejos has gotten to its dramatic turning point. With simmering tensions and fractured psyches, Altarejos presented an ideal platform for his cast to deliver some of the finest work of their careers. Allen Dizon is fascinating, yet vulnerable as Eddie Boy, but it’s Laurice Guillen’s complex portrayal of Mamang Anita, the matriarch of the Medialdea family, that remains to be the film’s most captivating element. Her ability to mine gravitas may have brought her closer to the core of the movie than her celebrated co-stars could reach. Guillen's showcase scene and the film’s, comes when she recalls how her husband met his fate then all of a sudden the figures in her story appear and begin speaking their parts. From watching her past unfold Mamang Anita exits the shot and then joins the ghostly tableau, she has come unstuck in time. Memory is a selection of images, some elusive, others imprinted indelibly on the brain. In this spectral pageant, Mamang Anita shows us the pain of her memories and misfortune. This moment of attenuated stillness is pure cinema, and so is the eruption that follows.