SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     Filmmaker Joselito Altarejos, whose artistry has not been channelled toward making a new movie for quite a while, is instead turning back to tinker with his earlier film. He went back and reworked Pamilya sa Dilim changing the order of several sequences and giving it a bold, new title. Guardia de Honor (ADCC Productions, 2076 Kolektib, 2024) better calibrates our expectations for a mournful, elegiac film. The story is identical; so, for that matter, are its emphases. There’s a carefully parsed opulence to Altarejos' direction. Most of the new edits are a matter of pruning, coming into scenes later and getting out of them earlier to provide a momentum. The film’s tautly controlled turbulence guides the eye to salient details, its clarified lines of dramatic tension calmly burst into images of an explosive yet nearly static intensity. Instead, Altarejos has made cuts that make the lengthy film and its sprawling narratives a bit more concise. The difference isn’t in style; it’s that the movie’s theological passion is inseparable from another aspect of the film, one that’s too painful and intimate to discuss in detail. Is redemption hopeless for the Medialdeas?

 

     Not many films would start with such a bold beginning, but Adolfo Borinaga Alix, Jr. sets the tone of Kontrabida (Godfather Productions, Ovation Productions, 2022) with such a striking opening shot that it causes a ripple effect which stays with its viewer. The moment is blunt and unusual; it flies in the face of conventional storytelling. It’s the kind of story that could only come from the perspective of a filmmaker like Alix. With frequent collaborator Jerry B. Gracio, he would employ familiar faces and places into the narrative. Kontrabida touches a raw nerve but that’s what makes it such a fascinating watch – to see these characters operate within this story and not so far removed from reality. Nora Aunor’s Anita Rosales is one of her great screen performances. It’s such a difficult part to play because she could have easily tripped into parody. Aunor has such control over every inflection of her voice, every wave of her arm and movement of her fingers. She can be charming one minute and dangerous the next. Her expressions are broad and dramatic, the use of her face proves that. Aunor holds Anita together until the very end when her fantasies take over. It’s a performance for the ages and should be studied in its precision despite how outlandish it may appear. The result is a sympathetic character that is also one of the best villains of all-time. It strips away the lines between fiction and reality in a way that’s both dramatic and compelling. 

     Another way in which Kontrabida's outlandish point of view is controlled is in its canny composition. Alix from his initial shots crafts a film that is visually intriguing. There is tension created by the characters' placement and movement in the frames, the cluttered mise-en-scène and the play of light and shadow. Though the transitions are not generally disarming, many of the shots are enticing. There are continual metaphors of dominance in the composition. If the effective visual composition of Kontrabida helps shift us away from our disbelief, so do the lines and situations of Gracio's screenplay. The dialogue is expressive and incisively clever. He gives Aunor some sure-fire lines with which to emote. Suspension of disbelief is a tricky concept; it is in the mind of the beholder and depends on many factors. There will always be those who affirm it and those who dismiss it; but a work stands or falls on how it is able to allow a portion of its audience to be comfortable with its vision and its trappings. Bembol Roco, as Anita's ex-husband Ramon delivers with excellent restraint. Only two other cast members have a chance at more than a few lines but they come over with a wallop. Jaclyn Jose is splendid as Anita's devoted fan Dolly and Julia Clarete plays Chie with complete assurance. Not to be forgotten is how sad and quietly heartbreaking Aunor is. Without saying anything explicitly, she perfectly portrays the tragedy inherent in Anita’s story.

Direction: Adolfo Borinaga Alix, Jr.

Written By: Jerry B. Gracio

Director of Photography: Odyssey Flores

Editing: Aleksandr Castañeda

Production Design: Bobet Lopez

Music: Mikoy Morales

Sound Design: Immanuel Verona

     Even when Mique asks them to perform doubtful bits of comedy, they pull it off with professional nonchalance that is fun to watch. The chemistry between Alajar and Davao is as uncanny as it is convincing. On the surface Alajar has, what might for many actresses be, a thankless role as the love interest. Instead she pulls the character in from the wings to take her rightful place, center stage. With superb supporting performances courtesy of Soliman Cruz and Ruby Ruiz, Monday First Screening is real cinema for grown-ups. Observing the trajectory of the central relationship is an experience as uplifting and powerful as any to be had at the movies. Monday First Screening is the kind of film that probably wouldn't get much attention if it were released at any other time. An unambitious romance aimed at grown-ups, it deserves the handful of champions it will find. It's a small movie of simple pleasures that's easily forgotten when it's over. Monday First Screening is your basic romantic nugget sweetened by its cast. The plot gives us little more than basic romcom primer before throwing these two together. Included, of course, are a meet-cute, misunderstandings and a happy ending with lessons leaned about love and life. Finally, a romantic drama worth investing in, Monday First Screening is a realistic yet charming film. If you think you've seen it already, stop. We may have seen mature romantic drama wannabes but this is the real deal.

Sound Engineer: Armand de Guzman

Musical Director: Isha Abubakar

Film Editor: Noah Tonga

Production Designer: Eric Torralba

Director of Photography: Owen Berico

Screenplay: Aya Anunciacion, Benedict Mique

Directed By: Benedict Mique

     What De Leon does as Mother Molly is revolutionary and astounding. She is a master of disguise and offers multiple layers that make it difficult to distinguish her real character. Mother Molly can be cruel with matter-of-fact comments and snark mockeries with words that are never wrong and denunciations that are transparently right. She is calculating and accurate in her plans. De Leon embodies Mother Molly’s determination and disappointment with mastery. The film’s supporting cast offers solid performances, including Jake Ejercito's Charles. A Very Good Girl blends the tropes seen in previous revenge films that tackle past traumas in an authentic way. Vargas' direction is far above the level anyone could expect. He clearly knows that there is power in not showing something on the screen and one of the most poignant moments is Philo reacting to a piece of news. While it encaptures the anger and frustration, the film is enriched with light-hearted moments making it one of the most original entries of the year. A Very Good Girl cleverly subverts our expectations - lulling the viewer into a false sense of security before expertly pulling the rug out from beneath us. But then Vargas hits us with that absolute gut punch. While primarily a revenge thriller, there’s no catharsis here – this is a study of how grief can consume and define you. Philo's emotions cloud her judgement and revenge overwhelmed her, she’s the perfect imperfect female lead and isn’t it about time women had their own antihero figure? Beyond all the distractions leading up to its heart-stopping showdown, A Very Good Girl sizzles with ambition and poses as a searing commentary on how and why gender politics are changing over time. And, of course, it shows how cinema has continued to be a powerful outlet to expose those damaging traditions, even when turning-the-tables still comes at a high cost. 

Directed By: Petersen Vargas

Screenplay: Marionne Dominique Mancol, Jumbo A. Albano, Daniel S. Saniana

Director of Photography: Noel Teehankee, LPS

Production Designer: Cheska Salangsang

Editor: Benjamin Tolentino

Musical Director: Andrew Florentino

Sound Engineer Boom Suvagondha

     Kung Kasalanan Man (Viva Films, 1989) is a movie where morality is grey and whether a character is likable is beside the point. But almost immediately, the film makes it clear whom we’re supposed to be a little more sympathetic. Should our loyalties be with Irma (Dina Bonnevie) or should they be with Jo, the impostor (also played by Bonnevie)? Soap operas tend to feel a bit off the rails — like they’re continuously improvising crazy developments in the plot to maintain our interest regardless of quality. Kung Kasalanan Man, in contrast, has twists that feel satisfactorily purposeful when they materialize, it’s like they’re falling into place. There is something good about Jo (Timmy Cruz) that is ultimately not so good. She can’t seem to be satisfied. She wants, she lacks. There’s an underlying resentment of what her best friend possesses. But in not recognizing, acknowledging what she has, Jo throws away all that’s worth having. A little bit into the movie, Jo is mistaken by Aling Miding (Vangie Labalan), one of Irma’s housemaids — an innocuous blunder that becomes an inciting incident. It plants a wicked idea in Jo’s head. Through reconstructive plastic surgery she became Irma and thus rid herself of all her woes. This scheme is so overwrought that, from a distance, it sounds like a dark joke — a satirization of how far a soap opera might go to get its audience agog. The plot sticks close to her and doesn’t stray to extraneous characters. We see her machinations of deceit up close and personal, but Bonnevie plays Jo’s desperation with enough pain to take her seriously: her emotional yearning for a life better than her own, though not resulting in excusable action, resonates. We’re not alienated because we can fundamentally understand her mode of thinking; for the less empathetic viewer, Kung Kasalanan Man at least establishes enough interest so that we can’t help but want to compulsively watch to find out how long Jo can keep up the charade. 

     After deciding that the one thing in her life she cares about — her boyfriend, Dan (Tonton Gutierrez) — still isn’t enough to reconsider the potential pitfalls of this outré scheme, Jo succeeds. She isn’t able to exult in the material joys of being Irma for very long. In the guise of her best friend she discovers just how much Dan loved her and this confirmation of a passion she’d taken for granted eats at her. Then we discover that she was jilted and beaten to a pulp by her lover, the sleazy Alvaro (Julio Diaz). Many melodramas find their principal characters saddled with hardship despite not necessarily doing anything wrong, which only makes them more sympathetic. Jo, by comparison, is like a spider who has gotten trapped in her own web. She would have been fine had she not spun anything in the first place. Bonnevie is sensational in both roles; when the camera rests on her face in close-up during a particularly emotive moment, there’s a floridness to her performance, but that’s part of what makes the movie so magnetic — Bonnevie knows how to complement the excesses of the plot. She’s adept at achieving emotional believability that also looks beautiful when played for the camera. As Irma she is bland, wistful, introverted—the sort of character she usually plays when put upon. As Jo, she swaggers, talks boldly and generally behaves toward herself—or she toward others. The direct juxtaposition of Bonnevie's two familiar types of roles, with herself—expertly photographed, incidentally—playing both of them, inclines to disconcert. The trick is too patent to be illusory, the situation too theatrically contrived. Gutierrez is agreeable as the object of both women's love and selfishness, though he is never any more than just an object, while Diaz registers masculine adulation. Eddie Garcia directing stylishly, shrewdly uses mirrors to remind Jo of all the deceit she has wrought. They’re like tangible manifestations of her inner consciousness and what she has done after a successful duplicity has put an arrogance in her step. There’s an otherworldly eeriness to the film’s menace, with its flouted ideas of an evil other around to seize one’s life, this feels ingeniously addressed by Jaime Fabregas' musical score. Garcia is bold enough to enlist the viewer on Jo’s side. Not, perhaps, in overt complicity, but rather in a deep-rooted emotional identification with her longing for a better life. Kung Kasalanan Man takes a darker and more jaded view of morality. Melodrama is a critical instrument of a society that has created it to show its desires, limitations and longings. 

Production Design: Manny B. Morfe

Cinematography: Joe Batac, Jr., F.S.C.

Sound Supervision: Rolly Ruta

Film Editor: Ike Jarlego, Jr.

Musical Director: Jaime Fabregas

Screenplay: Amado Lacuesta, Jr., Raquel Villavicencio

Directed By: Eddie Garcia