SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     Lino Brocka's Nakaw na Pag-ibig (Associated Entertainment Corporation, 1980) is a work of beauty, tenderness, power and insight. It is a tribute to deft dramatization that the principals are projected fully as the maelstrom of life in which they are trapped and with which they are unable to cope. One may argue that Brocka has given only surface treatment to the society which appears to propel Robert de Asis (Phillip Salvador) to his tragic end and accentuated his love affairs, groping for a higher rung in the social ladder. That it becomes apparent, is basically captious. Robert is obviously an intelligent young man whose background has not equipped him for anything better than menial endeavor. And it is not surprising that the lonely, brooding Robert will find an answer to his crying need for companionship in his drab, unlettered and equally lonely co-worker, Corazon Rivera (Nora Aunor). The forces pushing him to the final, horrible retribution are obvious and a tribute to the naturalism of Theodore Dreiser as he is suddenly exposed to the overwhelming opulence of Cynthia Ocampo (Hilda Koronel) to whose love he succumbs. Corazon becomes a nagging, inconvenient, and homely presence next to Cynthia's beauty. As Robert’s romance with Cynthia blossoms and he falls in love firmly secures the possibility of his better life in high society. At the same time, Robert repeatedly lies and breaks promises to Corazon, refusing to marry her. His desire that she just go away transforms into a murderous impulse when Corazon threatens to endanger any goodwill he’s established with Cynthia’s family. Rather than break it off, he strings her along—and so, quite understandably, she expects Robert to marry her. Since his basic upbringing does not permit him to callously desert Corazon—now frantic with the knowledge that she is bearing his child—he takes surreptitious steps to remedy his untenable position. This phase of his ordeal is a wholly tasteful and compelling handling of a delicate situation. The questions of his morals and intrinsic cowardice here are placed squarely in the eyes of the viewer. With similar integrity, the drama depicts Corazon's death and the subsequent mounting terror and confusion of her lover, faced with the enormity of the tragedy and the reiteration of the insidious thought that while he did not commit murder he must have willed it.  And, Robert, grappling with a transgression he cannot fully comprehend, is a pitiful, yet strangely brave individual as he explains his act and convictions in court. 

     Salvador's portrayal, often terse and hesitating, is full, rich, restrained and, above all, generally credible. Equally poignant is Aunor's characterization of the ill-fated Corazon. Aunor, in my opinion, has never been seen to better advantage than as the colorless factory hand, beset by burgeoning anxieties but clinging to a love she hopes can be rekindled. Under Brocka's expert direction, Koronel's delineation of the rich and beauteous Cynthia is the top effort of her career. It’s a shaded, tender performance and one in which her passionate and genuine romance avoids the bathos common to love as it sometimes comes to the screen. Salvador immersed himself in the weak and insecure morality of his character, resulting in a nervous, sweaty performance. Aunor downplayed her looks with almost no makeup, playing it frumpy and pathetic. But the understanding of their respective characters varies. Aunor played her role from start to finish as a dreary, but no less empathetic innocent in love who was seemingly destined to be disappointed by Robert. Brocka understood Corazon and directed her to be a lusterless character. Salvador played his role under the notion that Robert is unsympathetic, unsophisticated, and ambitious, not realizing that his good looks would do a great deal to counteract his interpretation. Nakaw na Pag-ibig tapers its concentration on the central romance, a cruel affair on Robert’s part that, today, the audience nonetheless wants to see because of the legendary stars involved. This is despite Cynthia's underdeveloped character being a little more than an attractive status symbol to Robert, and despite Aunor's excellent turn as a pitiable victim. Even today, watching the otherwise capable film is an exercise in the appreciation of fine acting and competent direction, as opposed to a heartfelt tragedy, salient sociopolitical text, or believable romance.

Screenplay: Eddie Naval Based on a Story By Theodore Dreiser

Director of Photography: Conrado Baltazar, F.S.C.

Music: George Canseco

Film Editor: Augusto Salvador

Art Direction: Joey Luna

Sound Supervision: Ben L. Patajo

Directed By: Lino Brocka

     One thing is certain: director Bobby Bonifacio, Jr. comprehends stifling dread in the most profound sense. With a grief-soaked story of ancestral vulnerability (you can’t pick your relatives, can you?), his terrifying and startlingly confident, Numbalikdiwa (2006) proved as much. Bonifacio fidgets with that peculiar breathlessness once again throughout Kahalili (Viva Films, 2023), a cinematic sacrament that dances around a fruitless relationship in dizzying circles. But be prepared to feel equally suffocated (albeit, a chosen, cultish kind) all the same. In the midst of wide-open surroundings we may be, but Bonifacio still wants us to crave and kick for oxygen, perhaps in a less claustrophobic and more agoraphobic fashion. The tangible dread in Kahalili—oftentimes charged by tight choreography and atmospheric compositions—is so recognizably out of Numbalikdiwa that you'll immediately distinguish the connective headspace responsible for both tales. And yet, this psychedelic thriller is different by way of Bonifacio’s loosened thematic restraint. You won’t exactly feel lost while disemboweling Bonifacio’s inviting beast, this is also a fitting way to describe the location where most of the story unfolds. There is only a slack sense of yesterday and tomorrow in Bonifacio’s locale of choice where an endless string of hallucinatory traditions are exercised in broad daylight.  

    We follow  Martha (Stephanie Raz), Bonifacio’s second fearless female lead after Meryll Soriano, playing a character marked by something unspeakable. In a deeply scarred, emotionally unrestricted performance—you might hear her screams in your nightmares, Martha isn’t on her own, she's with her self-absorbed longtime boyfriend Carlos (Victor Relosa, convincingly egotistical). When Martha arrives, a couple, Isabel (Millen Gal) and Rod (Sid Lucero) respectively, Bonifacio forgoes the aforesaid narrative economy for something sinister. The sneaky hex Bonifacio casts has that tight grip, on both the characters and the audience. Sex and death, a source of so much pain and anxiety are here as part of life's unending cycle. Kahalili is in no rush to solve its mysteries. The third act is full of surreal images of revelry and ritual sacrifice. The unburdened surplus of lengthy customs does overshadow some of the film’s potentially ripe avenues of interest. But the invigorating reward here is the ultimate sovereignty you will find in Martha, a surrogate for any woman who ever excused an inconsiderate male, rationalized his unkind words or thoughtless non-apologies. Raz knows it in the film's final shot. And you will know it too, so intensely that her freedom might just feel like therapy.   

Sound Design: Armand de Guzman

Music: Emerzon Texon

Editors: Nelson Villamayor, Noah Tonga

Production Designers: Sigrid T. Polon, Junebert Cantilla

Director of Photography: Michael Hernree J. Babista

Screenplay: Juvy Galamiton

Directed By: Bobby Bonifacio, Jr.

     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.