SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     Miss Rita Gomez, with an angry mouth and the steeliest of gazes brings so much energy to Gamitin Mo Ako (V.H. Films, Inc., 1985) because the movie badly needs a center of gravity. As directed by Ishmael Bernal, this is perhaps the most telling, economical image of Miss Gomez the movie has to offer, followed by a montage detailing Toyang's daily regimen that is equally sharp-edged. It appears as if the movie will concentrate on Miss Gomez's overweening drive and perhaps attempt an explanation of her eccentricities. But this doesn't happen nor does the film become the story of her daughter Josie (Stella Suarez Jr.). The movie is so shapeless and unfocused that it never decides whose story to tell. It offers disconnected glimpses of Toyang's life. There is nothing to string the episodes together into a coherent drama and no insight into the characters. If the movie opted clearly for Josie's point of view, then Toyang could successfully be presented as a cipher. But Josie is neither a match for her mother nor a well-defined character in her own right, so Miss Gomez's Toyang easily steals all the thunder. And as presented here, she handles everything with a desperate, perfectly unexamined intensity. Toyang reveals her true self in fits of rage and torrents of verbal, emotional and physical abuse to Josie. Her abandon in giving herself over to such emotions is accompanied by an air of calculation that is her most astonishing trait. She can switch gears in an instant, moving from tremendous sensuality if she thinks it will do her some good, to motherly love or even terrible anger. 

     Toyang copes with the overwhelming feelings of powerlessness and vulnerability by angrily and violently asserting control in the realm where she wields power and fury, her household. Suarez gives Josie a sullen cast, but Miss Gomez is an even better battle-ax later on. By the time Toyang seems to have softened toward Josie makes her final scene particularly bewildering. Toyang did need more humanity than Bernal allows her in order for Gamitin Mo Ako to have any claim to coherence or continuity. Even soap opera needs soul. A performance like Gomez’s isn’t something one will ever shake off and that it would become the filter through which her entire career would forevermore be viewed. Which is one major reason why Gamitin Mo Ako registers as questionable on camp value. And why anyone who ironically loves the film should still probably admit that the guilt in guilty pleasure resides within themselves and not the filmmakers. What could possibly be more insulting than to say that a work of art is so much a failure that it even fails at providing a sensibility that celebrates failure. Toyang is a monster and Josie is a pretty, long-suffering dope who might inspire more sympathy if she were not directed to be distant and veiled. The movie doesn't even make narrative sense. Success follows crisis without any pattern. Gamitin Mo Ako also offers few insights into Toyang's relationship with other characters. There’s Sammy (Al Tantay), her lover who's an enigma. Bernal and screenwriter Rolando S. Tinio fuse this formal schizophrenia with a cruelly episodic structure sneakily turning Toyang’s plight into an endless series of character sketches in some gruesome variety revue. Gamitin Mo Ako is a painful experience that drones on endlessly as Toyang's relationship with her daughter, Josie, disintegrates from cruelty through jealousy into pathos. It is unremittingly depressing, not to any purpose of drama or entertainment, but just to depress.

Production Designer: Elmer Manapul

Sound Supervision: Rudy Baldovino

Film Editor: Amang Sanchez

Musical Director: Willy Cruz

Director of Photography: Manolo R. Abaya

Screenplay: Rolando S. Tinio

Direction: Ishmael Bernal

     Carlos Siguion-Reyna's feature film debut Misis Mo, Misis Ko (Viva Films, 1988) mediates on the value of sincerity and honesty in relationship. Amado (Edu Manzano) and Rebecca (Dina Bonnevie) are not fully reformed or flawless people and they navigate clumsily through this journey together, deliberately expressing their feelings however uncomfortable, jealous, curious, angry or simply thrilled they feel. Misis Mo, Misis Ko is a comedy of manners, after all, and the awkwardness of their initial fumblings is the source of much of the film’s comedy. What they eventually come to realize, however, is that their attraction does not in any way diminish their love for one another. Denying exploration of this attraction is a stance that is firmly ingrained in society and pushing against it comes with plenty of backlash, but ultimately choosing to live by whatever rules make sense for you and your partner is the real key to a healthy relationship, regardless of whether or not it fits into someone else’s worldview. Amado and Rebecca end up finding even greater happiness as they unlearn their previous worldviews and embrace open and honest communication for one another. Amado and Rebecca do have to talk through feelings of jealousy and confusion with one another making the movie a very honest portrayal of  a relationship that has transcended jealousy. 

     Misis Mo, Misis Ko also follows Rafael (Ricky Davao) and Cynthia (Jackie Lou Blanco) who find themselves rapidly unraveling at the seams. The movie allows its characters to speak to each other highlighting difficulties that are so rarely talked about for women and couples and how challenging it can be to override the feelings that are so presently reinforced by culture. Bonnevie's Rebecca never loses the earnestness in her intonation with a disarming maturity that tells more about her faculty if given time to mellow. Manzano exerts his charm eloquently and a hirsute Davao impresses with a patina of self-awareness. But the  film's biggest asset is the transcendent Blanco. Her Cynthia is arguably the most conventional and relatable character among the four and she gives a galvanizing, uncompromising thrust that grants first-timer Siguion-Reyna’s boundary-exploring dramedy some thumping heartbeats. The juxtaposition of these two couples seems to suggest a value judgement on Siguion-Reyna's part, many couples attempt to hide or bury feelings and thoughts that they find guilt-inducing or unspeakable. The four finally recognize by the end of the film that denying love for others is useless and they allow unspoken feelings to be laid out fully on the table. Siguion-Reyna has his actors in uncomfortably long takes. When the same exercise is presented at the ending, however, their gaze feels like a warm embrace, bringing the arc of the film (and therefore its message) full circle. We need to really see each other and seek genuine connection with whoever we feel a connection with.

Production Design:  Charlie Arceo, Leo Abaya

Director of Photography: Manolo Abaya

Sound Supervision: Rolly Ruta

Film Editor: Jesse Navarro

Musical Director: Ryan Cayabyab

Screenplay: Bibeth Orteza

Directed By: Carlos Siguion-Reyna

     Miss Granny (Viva Films, CJ Entertainment, 2018),  Bb. Joyce Bernal's Filipino adaptation of the hit South Korean comic-fantasy film, begins with the recollection of seventy-year-old widow, Fely (Nova Villa), that before she had a son, she couldn’t imagine living past thirty. Yet she survived enough hardships to evolve into a tough woman who says what’s on her mind, steamrollering and upsetting almost everyone in her path. Meanwhile, Ramon's (Nonie Buencamino) wife, Angie (Lotlot de Leon), develops a heart condition exasperated by her mother-in-law's nonstop nitpicking. When she ends up hospitalized, Angie's doctor says that if she doesn't live a life filled with less stress, her husband will end up a widower. He makes the difficult decision to send his mother away, promising that when his wife recovers, they will bring her back home. Buencamino does a wonderful job playing Ramon. During this melancholic moment, Fely comes across the Forever Young photo studio and decides to have her portrait taken. When she exits, she becomes her twenty-year-old self named Odrey (Sarah Geronimo) and though she may resemble Audrey Hepburn, with her gamine body and wispy bangs, she is decidedly uncoy. Odrey is coarse and crabby and has nothing to lose; she’s a grumpy grandmother with perfect teeth and a flexible physique. As Odrey, she joins her grandson Jeboy’s (James Reid) heavy metal band and transforms it into a pop group, all while winning Jeboy's affection and Lorenz (Xian Lim) a young man who runs an American Idol - style television show. When Jeboy initially flirts with her, Odrey deals with it hilariously, recalling to herself that his game is as clumsy as that of his grandfather — her deceased husband. Soon, the two take on a more sibling-like relationship, helping Jeboy transform his band into an (almost) overnight sensation. Meanwhile, Bert (Boboy Garovillo), an older friend recognizes that she’s her younger self. 

     While the broad comedy is entertaining (a youthful Odrey blowing on her grandson’s food and force-feeding him), the film also takes unexpected darker turns. “Nobody raised her son better than I did — that’s why he is so good to me!” Fely shouts during a disagreement with Ramon. This weird comedy meanders into heartfelt, complex areas about the regrets, attachments and abandonment of the aged. Geronimo does a wonderful job playing Odrey. Feisty and adorable, she has the mannerisms of a septuagenarian down pat. Some of the film's best moments are the musical numbers. Geronimo sings all her own songs displaying a pure, lovely voice that harkens back to a time when vocalists could sing beautifully without any assistance. Ultimately Miss Granny is shamelessly sentimental about the virtues of maternal sacrifice (we’re supposed to forgive Fely’s behavior when her single mother backstory is revealed) and the sanctity of the family. There are more than a few holes in the story’s logic, it’s contrived in spots to prevent the narrative from coming to a dead halt where characters acted like normal people, and its increasingly elaborate production numbers leading up to the big show panders to younger viewers. But films like Miss Granny live on the appeal of the performers, and Geronimo almost single-handedly saves the day with her pitch perfect and often hilarious spin on the young Fely.

Directed By: Bb. Joyce Bernal

Screenplay: Jinky Laurel

Director of Photography: Rody Lacap

Musical Director: Len Calvo

Sound Engineers: Albert Michael Idioma, Lamberto A. Casas, Jr.

Editors: Chrisel G. Desuasido, Bb. Joyce Bernal

Production Designer: Shari Marie Montiague

     Peque Gallaga and Lore Reyes' Magic Temple (Star Cinema Productions, Inc., 1996) is a glitzy, glamorous and rollickingly fun fantasy film that doesn't match for story their other well-known fantasy masterpiece, Once Upon A Time, although Magic Temple does one-up the 1987 classic in a number of areas, notable among them the immaculately-designed creatures that populate the film. Though still a dark story with traditional motifs and characters, Magic Temple does well to lend a lighter side to the proceedings. Song and dance, comedy and action all blend into the overreaching fantasy story arc and to very good effect. It's clear from the beginning that Magic Temple sets out to deliver a good old time at the movies and it doesn't disappoint. Escapist entertainment in the truest sense, Magic Temple brings to life a world populated by good and evil, and cuddly and scary characters where danger and laughs all await those that dare enter its inviting yet perilous and altogether fantastical world. The kingdom of Samadhi is populated by a host of fascinating characters. Magic Temple is a rare movie where even tertiary characters with a few fleeting moments of screen time enjoy such a robust and memorable presence allowing the creative minds behind-the-scenes to shine. Jason Salcedo (Jubal), Junnel Hernando (Sambag) and Marc Solis (Omar) deliver the goods. The three protagonists does well to convey thoughts, both theirs and the audience's. Their effort is breezy and sure, and gains a confidence that serves them well as the film moves on to the climax. Jackie Lou Blanco's Ravenal delivers a cheerful effort as a villain that's done a dastardly deed but has so much sinister fun in the process that it's hard not to like the character on some level. Aside from the cast, Magic Temple's most notable feature, particularly when viewing the film in retrospect is its decidedly 1990s flair. The film's song-and-dance numbers cannot help but engender an instant flashback to the era.

     Magic Temple's restoration pays off in a big way on high definition. The image is noticeably tighter, sharpening up many of the finer details like clothing lines, hair and environmental details. The leap isn't as drastic in foreground elements, but it's worthwhile. The high definition's benefit seems more clear in objects further from the screen, where the uptick in clarity is significant. Colors are more nuanced. They're not punchier, but the palette enjoys a clearly greater range of subtle shadings that give the movie a fuller look, but at the same time one that's slightly less aggressive. The palette feels more natural and the color hasn't pushed the image to overheating. It's a very natural image, beautiful in motion, and perfectly complementary of the movie's many areas of exploration. Black levels are excellent, flesh tones retain that slight rosiness. Viewers aren't going to walk away disappointed. Magic Temple is a good movie that's been given a fantastic restoration. The picture quality is a work of art and the two-channel sound embodies all of the good qualities the track has to offer, including spacious front side presence, a healthy and balanced support structure and more pleasantly robust bass. Clarity is terrific, smaller support atmospherics are well integrated and positioned. Dialogue is clear and detailed, always well prioritized. This is an exceptional soundtrack that, literally, brings a new layer of excellence to Magic Temple's sound experience.

Sound Engineer: Albert Michael Idioma

Editor: Danny Gloria. FEGMP

Music By: Archie Castillo

Production Designer: Rodell Cruz

Director of Photography: Joe Tutanes, F.S.C.

Screenplay: Peque Gallaga, Lore Reyes

Directed By: Peque Gallaga, Lore Reyes

     McArthur C. Alejandre's Call Me Alma (Viva Films, 2023) has the energy and almost surreptitious illumination of the best improvised work. Daniel “Toto” Uy’s cinematography gives the film an exacting look that cuts nicely against the gathering force of Ricky Lee's screenplay. With a combination of power and grace, Jaclyn Jose delivers one of the more memorable performances of her career as Sheila. This is no small feat, given the depth and breadth of Jose’s filmography and her consistent ability to produce great work. She’s such an instinctive actress that never hits a false note. Jose finds unexpected avenues into her character, a challenging role that requires her to show a mental deterioration that’s inherently internal. When the reality of her situation begins to set in, Sheila’s fear and anxiety turn, at times to hysteria. In other hands these moments could veer into melodrama, but Jose earns the viewer’s empathy. Her glossy circumstances disappear into the background, and all we see is an ailing woman, overwhelmed by her fate. While Alma (Azi Acosta) speaks, Sheila’s face reflects a complex interplay of emotions. The idea of recriminatory conflict between mother and daughter seems fair enough as Jose and Acosta invest their roles with undeniable emotional conviction and impact.