SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     In Joel C. Lamangan's Walker (New Sunrise Films, 2022), the spectator is lured into the lives of women who, for various reasons, have been forced into prostitution. Strangely, the single-take sequences and the richness of detail in the mise-en-scène are all in place, but the only movement in Walker is cyclical and back-and-forth, like the lives of its characters, perpetually leaving and returning to their profession. Discursive sequences in which the characters discuss the social causes and effects of prostitution suddenly give way to the conduct of the business itself where prostitutes are literally dragged by their patrons. Through his own obscure passageways, Lamangan charts the various fates of his protagonists as they struggle under the social and economic burdens of their occupation. Most abhor their work and more than one schemes, usually unsuccessfully, to leave it. Lamangan and screenwriter Troy Espiritu creates a diverse range of characters who have varying back-stories but are selling their bodies in one way or another, because of men. Lamangan is anchored by its cast of characters, making Walker a true ensemble effort. Unlike more conventional dramas of the time, which had one or two protagonists and then a larger supporting cast, Lamangan employs a group of performers and gives them equal weight. These women vary in age, possessing different outlooks in life. Lamangan works extremely well with his cast, making  sure to never portray them as anything other than unflinchingly human. These women being in a profession that requires them to sell their bodies doesn’t negate their humanity, the film becomes less about their line of work and more about their inner qualities, which drives both the injustice and the necessity of prostitution, but never stops short of portraying it as tragedy allowing glimmers of possibility and even agency for the characters. 

     Lamangan gives his heroines love and sympathy, pointing his finger at the repressive patriarchal society for allowing the exploitation of women and for reflecting society’s hypocritical attitude towards them. It’s a polished, poignant and unsentimental account of the women who resiliently live in the streets awaiting a better future. There is no doubt whose side Lamangan is on. One by one, in interwoven detail, he shows us how each of the women live. His attention to the trials of womanhood is sustained over his career and yet its meaning is less obvious—and perhaps less laudable —than many would like to believe. The psycho-biographical interpretation of Lamangan—rhymes nicely with the Western conception of a feminist filmmaker. But his attitude toward women is more of an aestheticizer of female suffering, extolling and reveling in the strength and resilience of women, than one who fights against the causes of their hardship. But in watching Walker, there is little doubt where Lamangan's sympathies lie. The film is at once politically engaged and emotionally subtle. Although it puts forth a particularly complex understanding of gender politics, it never seems to relate to any immediate context. The film closes on a note of hope and heartbreak. The brief final scene in which a man takes his first step into a life that has ruined him, evoking a heartbreaking vision of hell is a mark of Lamangan’s genius. Walker is inscribed with a rare urgency that is nonetheless balanced by humanist understanding, an understanding that is remarkable even for him.

Screenplay: Troy Espiritu

Director of Photography: T.M. Malones

Editing: Gilbert Obispo

Production Designer: Jay Custodio

Music: Von de Guzman

Sound: Christopher Mendoza

Direction: Joel C. Lamangan

     Unlike the most memorable entries into the horror genre, Nokturno (Evolve Studios, Viva Films, 2024) offers only the most superficial of thrills. Director Mikhail Red's Deleter (2022) utilizes the genre’s framework to not only examine its characters in a unique way, but also to interrogate our relationship to the media we consume. Through the intense voyeurism and cinema in general, Red makes us unwitting culprits in the increasingly disturbing actions of its characters, adding an uncomfortable angle to what could’ve otherwise been a fairly conventional psychological horror story. Nokturno offers little in the way of fresh twists on the stale formula and even the well-established tropes are handled poorly. It all feels painfully familiar: vague folk religion, loud shrieks, slamming doors, flickering lights — it’s basically a non-stop barrage of tired genre clichés. It even has that shot of a character violently banging his head against the wall that has inexplicably become so popular with horror films of this kind. While the relationship between Lilet (Eula Valdez) and her daughter, Jamie (Nadine Lustre) does provide rooting interest and emotional resonance, Red struggles to bridge the protagonist’s past to her present. Admittedly, Nokturno handles some of its family drama better than a lot of films of its ilk, but even that eventually devolves into cheap sentimentalism. The film’s horror elements are primarily derivative and reliant on shock, rather than nuanced or subtle sense of dread that would have ultimately made it scarier. 

     Other characters, such as Manu (Wilbert Ross), Jamie's sister Jo's (Bea Binene) boyfriend and Tito Jun (Ku Aquino), are undeveloped. As such, the viewer is given few reasons to emotionally invest in any of them, before they are caught up in a series of supernatural events beyond their control. Some sections can be tedious as Red keeps secrets about the curse for a long time instead of revealing them early on as an inciting incident. The use of Filipino religion and folklore lends a sense of authenticity. Nokturno explores something old and folkloric by exploiting the technology of cinema, making it immediate and visceral. Lustre is a compelling presence capable of displaying vulnerability without ever seeming naive, a derivative screenplay that can’t stick the landing doesn’t so much fail her gifts, she outshines it. The way this story unfolds and how it unpeels its protagonist is too predictable to be scary, despite a striking tableaux involving Jamie in moments of terror. It would be wrong to say that Red squandered any potentially intriguing ideas because there is nothing here that would indicate this rote and painfully unoriginal exercise could’ve ever been more than it is. Nokturno might offer some surprises for non-horror fans looking for a quick and simple scare, but everyone else is likely to be profoundly underwhelmed.

Directed By: Mikhail Red

Sound Designers: Emilio Bien Sparks, Michaela Docena, Michael Keanu Cruz

Scorer: Paul Sigua, Myka Magsaysay-Sigua

Editor: Nikolas Red

Co-Editor: Timothy Axibal

Production Designer: Ana Lou Sanchez

Director of Photography: Ian Alexander Guevara, LPS

Screenplay: Rae Red, Nikolas Red

     Much has already been written about the bravery of Ang Duyan ng Magiting (Cinemalaya, Sine Metu, 2023). I wish the movie had been even brave enough to risk a clear, unequivocal, uncompromised statement of its beliefs, instead of losing itself in a cluttered mishmash of stylistic excesses. Ang Duyan ng Magiting might have really been powerful, if it could have gotten out of its own way. The best scenes, the ones that make this movie worth seeing despite its shortcomings are the ones in which Jill Sebastian's (Dolly de Leon) tired government functionary hacks her way through a bureaucratic jungle in an attempt to get someone to make a simple statement of fact, those scenes are masterful. If Ang Duyan ng Magiting had started with Jose Santos's (Miggy Jimenez) disappearance, and followed his mother, Helen (Agot Isidro) and Professor Victor Angeles (Jojit Lorenzo) in a straightforward narrative, this film might have generated overwhelming tension and anger. But the movie never develops the power it should have had, because writer/director Dustin Celestino lacked confidence in the strength of his story. He has achieved the unhappy feat of upstaging his own film losing it in a thicket of visual and editing stunts. We get to know Jose a little while in prison with his friend Simon Manuel (Dylan Ray Talon). In something of a mild panic, the two loses it only to calm down when Jill enters the picture. Ang Duyan ng Magiting truly excels in the scenes where Jill and Police Chief Gabriel Ventura (Paolo O'Hara) try to work out what really happened. All of his views that she despises such as a condemnatory questioning of the system and disbelief of the officer standing in front of her, so brazen. Ignorance is bliss and Jill's world has been covered in a shroud of darkness. 

     Edgy and belligerent, De Leon is constrained but fully believable. She can slay you with a look and complements her co-star in truthful ways. O'Hara's character perhaps goes on the longest journey in the movie. Testy and judgmental, Officer Ventura has to deal with the sharpest and most toxic human emotion, the one that eventually kills you; hope. Jose, played with modest simplicity by Jimenez is a dedicated, somewhat guilt-ridden young man whose optimism is unshakable. Isidro perfectly captures Helen's internal strife as her world comes tumbling down. She holds truth to be at the heart of faith. Lorenzo is superior as a man facing up to issues he never wanted to confront personally. Ang Duyan ng Magiting has no room for revenge plots or of any other kind of simple gratification. Helen and Victor learn that their own instincts were right and they overcome imposing obstacles to learn what they need to learn, but it's hard to imagine any scenario where such validation could taste more sour. Uneven and a little pre-packaged, Ang Duyan ng Magiting is still a haunting film and it ignites a sharp desire for civic engagement, for public accountability, for knowledge that matters instead of knowledge that distracts. It earns your admiration, even as you wish it were a little better and that the world were much, much better. By following two individuals who learn to ask tough questions, to confront their fears, to insist on the highest standards, it's as good a movie as I can think of at demonstrating what you can do during a time of crisis. As a superbly acted political drama, Ang Duyan ng Magiting is also well worth your time.

Sound Engineers: Andrea Teresa T. Idioma, Nicole Rosacay

Musical Composer: Pao Protacio

Editor: Janel Gutierrez

Production Designer: Josiah Hiponia

Director of Photohraphy: Kara Moreno

Writer & Director: Dustin Celestino

     There are so many good things in Halikan Mo at Magpaalam sa Kahapon (Luis Enriquez Films, 1977), but they’re side by side instead of one after the other. They exist in the same film, but the result don't add up. Actually, it has no result–just an ending, leaving us with all of those fine pieces, still waiting to come together. If this were a screenplay and not the final product, you could see how with one more rewrite, it might all fall into place. There are subplots in the movie, but the emotional themes are more intriguing. Maybe the fundamental problem is the point of view. The interesting characters here are the women, but the star is Eddie Rodriguez and so the film is told from his point of view. Watching Halikan Mo at Magpaalam sa Kahapon, it’s easy to linger on issues since the movie itself sputters and sprawls, breathtakingly unaware of how ponderous it is. It’s about the enigma of adultery, which is that people — normal, decent people do it for no reason at all, except that they crave something. Romance. Renewal. A second chance at love. Rodriguez succeeds, but I’m not sure that this is an acting triumph viewers will respond to. In his gloomy, introspective mode, Rodriguez steamrolls every scene with the heaviness of his emotions. He becomes a thick-witted, broodingly stylized hero. The thing is, we’re supposed to be watching Rafael fall in love. Sometimes the movie takes its time and feels real and at other times it makes huge leaps, leaving behind emotional realism and logic. 

     Pilar Pilapil has no trouble showing the emotional range needed in a challenging role. She is a wonderful actress, her elegant femininity contrasts perfectly with Rodriguez. Natalie and Rafael make an intriguing romantic couple. It should be no surprise that Pilapil teams well with Rodriguez. Hilda Koronel plays a stronger character who considers her options and maintains control of the situation. Marina painfully begins to uncover her husband’s affair, she concludes that she must find out everything about his secret life. Marina is not about to let it go and pursues the matter with quiet determination. As tension begins to increase, perhaps more in anticipation than by the inevitable romance. At first, Natalie decides to tell Rafael the truth about her daughter Nanette (Virnadeth). Then the two of them are drawn together in ways not even the movie can explain. Here is a good story sadly marred by undisciplined dramatic direction, heavy footed staging and lack of attention to detail. Although betrayal is filled with dramatic potential, the filmmakers haven't mined the subject of its many riches. But Halikan Mo at Magpaalam sa Kahapon is the kind of movie that won't fit into a nutshell. Director Luis C. Enriquez's films have always refused to work that way. They have managed to be linear while also drifting thoughtfully through the nuances of their characters' behavior with stylistic polish. To be sure, the liability of a certain sogginess accompanies Enriquez's brand of thinking-man's romanticism. Halikan Mo at Magpaalam sa Kahapon incorporates a full reserve of hard-won wisdom about the perils that can befall a marriage.

Supervising Film Editor: Albert Joseph Sr.

Director of Photography: Hermo U. Santos

Story By: Beybs Pizarro-Gulfin

Screenplay: Toto Belano & Ric M. Torres

Musical Director: Rudy Arevalo

Directed By: Luis C. Emriquez

     Nominally, Filipino cinema’s most psychologically fascinating love triangle, Ishmael Bernal's landmark is a hard film to resurrect in a contemporary era that favors logic and emotional literalness over the director’s dreamy sense of the inevitability of disappointment and the invisibility of personal morality. Dalawang Pugad... Isang Ibon (LEA Productions, 1977) stands alongside Ikaw ay Akin (1978) as one of the definitive films of the 1970s, its impact on countless scores of subsequent films is impossible to gauge. If its guilelessness seems a bit dated, a viewing today reads like a well-observed lesson that countless filmmakers incorporated into their work over the following two decades, leaving it not just cogent but an essential piece of cinema history. With an almost insurmountable liberty in his use of the cinematic form, Bernal embraces contradiction to create meaning—Dalawang Pugad... Isang Ibon is sad yet humorous, breathless yet contemplative, universal yet hermetic. It knows of life’s folly so intimately that it is impossibly naïve and its selfless love of the cinema borders on narcissistic. What confirms Dalawang Pugad... Isang Ibon to the status of a flawed gem is Bernal’s inability to reconcile his core of almost surreal melancholy with a more psychologically acute perception of character, something perfected throughout his later efforts like Relasyon (1982) that bears more than a few similarities to this film. The timeline of his plot is impenetrable and his sense of incident is suitably hazy (it only fails him at the hastily staged denouement), but he too easily lets Roy (Romeo Vasquez) and Mel (Mat Ranillo III) as characters, coast by on vague descriptions and archetypes rather than example. Mel is too easily reduced to his lack of action and is occasionally forgotten, while there is repeated discussion of his proclivities as a ladies’ man without discernment as to what drives his appetites or makes him so appealing to the opposite sex. Roy and Mel instinctively intellectualize themselves to the point where it is possible they exist only within the reality of their own minds and thus neither actor is able to give a performance that captures the imagination. 

     Terry (Vilma Santos) whose own frivolity may be her way of dealing with an underlying and serious sense of dissatisfaction. She is easy to fall in love with — the character is beautiful, charming and intelligent. The very things that mark her as a mesmerizing woman – her daring and self-determination, her refusal to play by patriarchal rules – also, in some ways, stoke her discontent. It’s inevitable, then, that her attention will eventually turn to Roy. Dalawang Pugad... Isang Ibon is really Terry’s film. This is Vilma Santos’s first great performance, all the greater because of the art with which she presents Terry’s resentment. A lesser actress might have made Terry mad or hysterical, but although madness and hysteria are uncoiling beneath the surface, Terry depends mostly on unpredictability — on a fundamental unwillingness to behave as expected. She shocks her parents as a way of testing them. Dalawang Pugad... Isang Ibon is about love in its many faces and disguises. It isn't just about the love of Roy and Mel for Terry or about the variations of her feelings for the two of them, separately and together. In spite of his understanding and images of tenderness, joy, fun, cosiness, idyllic feelings of all kinds in Dalawamg Pugad... Isang Ibon, Bernal keeps himself, to just the right degree, out of it. He never makes the mistake of confounding himself, as creator, so that you never get his own attitude towards Terry, or any comment on her spirit and behavior. Bernal is inarguably the star of the film and his presence alone justifies Dalawang Pugad... Isang Ibon’s almost immediate introduction into the canon of greatness as well as its enduring appeal. His generosity in creating fleeting throwaway moments that teem with detail and emotional resonance is unparalleled and the autonomy of his camerawork is galvanizing. Dalawang Pugad... Isang Ibon, as a whole, is as singular as its director. The berth of his sensitivity is so wide that the film seems less a creation of artifice than a pipeline straight into his emotional being. If the finale feels a bit sudden, perhaps that’s because we’re only viewing it within the context of a romantic triangle. Widened out, it’s the story of love – in all sorts of forms.

Art Director: Bobby Bautista

Director of Cinematography: Nonong Rasca

Sound Supervisor: Luis S. Reyes

Film Editor: Nonoy Santillan

Music: The Vanishing Tribe

Screenplay: Ishmael Bernal

Direction: Ishmael Bernal