SENSUAL AND INTIMATE

Posted by Jojo Devera ,


     Maning Borlaza's Stolen Moments (Regal Films Inc., 1987) is melodramatic in the traditional sense, not in the modern pejorative sense, in that it concerns issues of class division and sexual yearning. Alex Bernabe (Miguel Rodriguez) wants a good job, lots of money and a pretty wife on his arm. And he could have it if not for his embarrassing lower-class impulses. His identity is the very thing that prevents him from attaining what he desires. The story crescendos as Alex comes closer to realizing his ambitions. And just as an opportunity presents itself, his past mistakes threaten to derail his progress, resulting in a dramatic downturn. Borlaza composes shots that magnify Alex’s status in an unsympathetic world he nevertheless desperately wants to get inside. This lets us understand Alex’s attraction to plain Marietta (Rio Locsin), but also his desire for the pampered Carol (Alma Moreno) and why it consumes him to the point of destruction. Despite a prohibition against male suitors by Marietta's Aunt Saling (Perla Bautista), an encounter lands Alex in her room and the two spend the night together. It is here where the stained hand of movie fate intervenes on Stolen Moments, aligning to give Alex what he momentarily wants, only to hold that against him later. When he is with Carol, Borlaza bathes him in light. These sequences are overwhelmingly sensual and intimate, Rodriguez showing us just how significantly he was remaking not only screen acting, but also definitions of masculinity. His men were not afraid to expose their vulnerability to the point of emotional ruin. 

     On Carol’s arm, Alex is soft and tender, takes shape and comes to life. The heightened romance of their love scene is shot tight and up close. Carol, we are encouraged to believe, sees something in Alex no-one else can. Lust in all of its beautiful and gruesome detail plague the film and the expressionist imagery find a deft balance of heightened representation. The camera lingers on Rodriguez’s and Moreno's faces every time they enter a scene. They swim, swept away in abandon and love. Alex and Carol's romance is sincere and it hurts. Since his basic upbringing—a composite background of slums from which he chose to escape—does not permit him to callously desert Marietta. The film undercuts the central couple with moments of selfishness that compound with little regard for the woman caught in their path. Rodriguez's portrayal, often terse and hesitating is generally credible. For Moreno, at least, the histrionics are of a quality so far beyond anything she has done previously. Borlaza must be credited with a minor miracle. Locsin has never been seen to better advantage as Marietta, beset by burgeoning anxieties but clinging to a love she hopes can be rekindled. Rey P.J. Abellana at times seems overly-laconic, but the more serious defect in the screenplay is the difficulty in believing that Fredo, Marietta’s lover could ever get to an emotional pitch leading to some confusion of sympathies on the part of the viewer. Most of the supporting players contribute fitting bits to an impressive mosaic. By making us intuitively understand the attraction of high life and using Marietta’s needy overtures to prick the viewers’s conscience, Borlaza has created a film about the decision between a rich life and a moral life, and the vast confusing grey area in between. Stolen Moments favors the beautiful moment over the sensible story or the moral road taken, it is a tale told with fervor of the pitfalls of falling into ones' emotion. 


Sound Supervisor: Joe Climaco

Production Design: Cesar Jose

Director of Photography: Sergio Lobo

Editor: George Jarlego

Screenplay: Jose Javier Reyes

Music: Jaime B. Fabregas

Direction: Maning Borlaza



GRAB-AND-RUN

Posted by Jojo Devera ,


     Lawrence Fajardo emphasizes the gleaming, soulless surfaces in Walker (VMX, 2025), a film accurate and attentive enough to convey the appalling emptiness of streetwalker Alex's (Robb Guinto) world. Walker is attractive to look at, shot in a fluid, semi-poetic style. The story is told in fragments out of chronological sequence. The spectator is obliged to work at piecing them together. As criticism, however, if criticism this be, Walker is ultimately timid and evasive. It relies far too much on its self-consciously oblique approach, which tends to take center stage and far too little on genuine insight into the world it represents. This is a self-conscious film from a gifted director who has often been prepared to go where the mainstream doesn't flow. Successful in both, Fajardo has balanced his ability to make commercial hits with his desire to do more personal and innovative films. This one offers an interesting idea but falters in the casting. Once the novelty of the casting wears off, the performance offers nothing to hold onto, no meaningful insight into either the character, Alex or Guinto herself. There are layers upon layers here, Guinto taking on a serious acting role in which she plays a woman whose job is to make herself an object of male fantasy. Alex (and one can’t help but imagine, Guinto) are indistinguishable: blank, dull, prone to choosing her words carefully and choosing the most banal ones imaginable. On the rare occasions when the conversation shifts to alternative topics, it is seldom enhanced. 

     In what is either a commendably honest internal critique or more likely, an attempt to head off inevitable complaints about the performance, the film practically assures us, she’s playing someone who’s completely affectless. Either way, we’re left with little more than the pretty surfaces, which those inclined could presumably see at greater expanse in Guinto’s work. It would have been possible, I suppose, for Fajardo to work his way around the collapsed star at the center of his film if the characters in her orbit brought something to the encounters, as if she were a mirror held up to their desires and disappointments. But the rest of the cast spends most of their time, like us, marveling at how closed off she is. The movie is short on information about the actual business of being a walker. The filmmakers seems to be supposing that the awfulness of most of these people means there is no high drama to be extracted from their lives. Does Mara's (Stephanie Raz) murder, for example or the fate of the innocent and not-so-innocent individuals, offer no material for tragedy? Is there something fundamentally different about the whoring that Guinto’s character does versus the whoring that everybody else in the film does? Bringing bits and pieces of this unpleasant, narcissistic life in Walker, for example, is not a satisfying substitute for explaining why such a social existence came into being and why it fell apart. No perspective at all, in this instance, means ignoring certain larger realities. Walker  proves that a visually striking film can be made on the fly. But grab-and-run is a more fruitful strategy for images than scripts.


Sound Design: Nicole Rosacay

Musical Scorer: Mbella SineScore

Production Design: Ian Traifalgar, Endi "Hai" Balbuena

Editor: Ysabelle Denoga

Cinematographer: Albert Banzon

Screenplay: Jim Flores

Directed By: Lawrence Fajardo

SOUL-CRUSHING

Posted by Jojo Devera ,


     In a movie about someone with cancer, a delicate balancing act takes place and determines if the production falls into intolerably melodramatic territory or emerges as something that connects with viewers on a deeper level. Go too broad and you’ll fall into a series of clichés, but put the material in the hands of strong characters developed by even stronger actors and you have something like Lemuel C. Lorca's Paquil (Resiko Entertainment Productions, 2025). Former actress Cristina (Beauty Gonzalez) discovers she has cancer — an affliction that changes her relationship with overbearing mother, Bing (Lilet Esteban) and musician Paolo (JM de Guzman), who wants to help her in the only way he really knows how. Gonzalez delivers a largely genuine, layered performance. Her character rides the emotional roller coaster one might expect from her situation — shock, depression, isolation and most glaringly, anger. Cristina has trouble expressing emotions and the cancer forces her to lash out about what she’s feeling. Clearly the flip side to De Guzman’s strengths, Gonzalez at times seems to be playing catchup to his free-flowing interplay whether she likes it or not. De Guzman further demonstrates his superb ability to find the comedy in individuals programmed for deadpan objectivity. Their scenes together are particularly brilliant in how they push beyond the first joke. When Paolo’s attempt to kiss Cristina comfortingly falls flat, De Guzman is splendid in his discomfort, betraying Paolo’s growing affection for her. Somehow all of those involved have managed to avoid the temptation to inflate their experience.This is not an easy story to tell by any means. 

     Both Archie del Mundo’s screenplay and Lorca’s direction struggle with aim and avoiding cliche, a pitfall Paquil falls into repeatedly. There are the sappy, predictable moments with Cristina looking stoic and of course, revelations and pontifications on the meaning and fragility of life. Lorca aims high and comes close to his mark on occasion, but the often cringe-inducing near-misses outweigh the hits. The story raises some practical problems. Cristina’s cancer functions primarily as a plot device. Details of her progress and continued treatment are postponed and in general, she seems in good health for a terminal cancer patient. Cristina and Paolo’s time together depends on illness to elevate an ordinary romance into transcendence. Paquil incorporates an ambitious set of events and by the end, some work better than others - while a few are overtly ham-fisted and jammed into the story. However, Del Mundo’s script also evinces touches of real grace by confronting its conflict head-on, often painfully so. Paquil emphasizes to heartbreaking effect the soul-crushing loneliness any cancer sufferer has to deal with. Filled with a cast of such talented players, entertaining moments are sprinkled throughout and you get the feeling that, with a push or a prod in one direction or another and a clearer aim, it might just have hit its mark more often than it does. It’s easy to reinforce the film’s message that having cancer makes you realize how important it is to define and redefine your connections and who means what to you. Paquil is a rare movie—one that is honest. It’s a truly moving story that, despite a tendency toward the facile, never relies on tricks to make us feel something. 


Music: Paulo Almaden

Editing: Lemuel Lorca

Sound Design: Immanuel Verona, Fatima Nerikka Salim

Production Design:Carmela Danao

Director of Photography: Marvin Reyes

Screenplay: Archie del Mundo

Directed By: Lemuel C. Lorca

REVENGE AND SACRIFICE

Posted by Jojo Devera ,


     Though the title teases at religious allegory, Adolfo Borinaga Alix, Jr.'s Pieta (Alternative Vision Cinema, Noble Wolf, 2023) is far from your average scripture. With no room for hackneyed preaching or politics, the film's faith system is wrapped in a verité-style drama, in which sacrifice and persecution are indistinguishable. Characters find redemption through punishment and seek truth through manipulation. Alix prefers his characters to speak more through deed than word. Often delving into deeply transgressive corners of the human psyche, Pieta never goes where we expect it to. And it has some important things to say about revenge and sacrifice. Alfred Vargas as Isaac is a marvel to watch. His transformation is almost impossible to tear away from. Isaac's problems turn out to be of a more internal and existential origin than in any outward pressures weighing him down. Vargas’ intensity is well matched by Nora Aunor, bringing a sense of disturbing mystery to Rebecca whose relationship with her son takes a surprise twist as Isaac suddenly remembers an incident from his youth. Every so often, bursts of affectionate spontaneity erupt between Rebecca and Isaac, demonstrating the genuine love and bond that they share – and yet, the connection remains fragile, derailed so quickly whenever either one of them slips through the emotional cracks that ennui has eroded into their core personalities.

     Aunor says so much with silence, creating a cinematic language from the emotions on her face alone; mysterious but complex. Rebecca proves to be something else entirely. Isaac's attempts to get back into some semblance of the life he almost permanently left behind prove to be much more difficult than anyone might have imagined. And the escalating enmeshment with his son Jonil (Tommy Alejandrino) add new layers of confusion to the mess he’s trying to make sense of. Further retreats into isolation don’t necessarily offer comfort, but the withdrawal does reduce much of the friction, a welcome relief in its own terms. It’s a detour, a reliable means to an ambiguous end. Powerful changes come with a price paid in the devastating final frames. Much to Alix’s credit as a filmmaker, he resists the temptation to amplify Isaac’s turmoil or make him an object of pity. There’s a humane core to Pieta that saves it from despair. Rather than making everyone other than Isaac a fool, Alix extends enormous sympathy to a fascinating cast of supporting characters, all of them outcasts in their own way, including Gina Alajar, beautifully understated as Beth. Her subtle performance does much to take the edge off the film’s twists and turns. Long after we have its destination in plain sight, Pieta still penetrates our assumptions. It starts out dry and minimalist, with widescreen compositions that suggest its mode will be naturalistic, then the ironies multiply. Alix crafts a quietly powerful, character-driven tale that even amid its melodrama and violence, Pieta's emotional complexities remain haunting.


Directed By; Adolfo Borinaga Alix, Jr.

Screenplay: Jerry B. Gracio

Director of Photography: Nelson Macababat, Jr., LFS

Production Designer: Jhon Paul Sapitula

Editing: Xila Ofloda

Music: Mikoy Morales

Sound Design: Immanuel Verona


PASSION AND COMPASSION

Posted by Jojo Devera ,


     Nothing in director Lawrence Fajardo's features approaches the power and skill of The Hearing (Cinemalaya, Pelikulaw, Center Stage Productions, 2024) which represents a major leap forward in all departments. Proving himself an astonishingly accomplished director as well as a measured storyteller. While this is unquestionably an issue film, it tackles its subject with intelligence and heart. Fajardo uses a trial to structure the film, though this isn’t a courtroom drama and those scenes are wisely kept to a minimum. He does a superb job through a mixture of shrewd editing and a multitude of sounds, generally keeping the camera just below or above twelve-year-old Lucas' (Enzo Osorio) head. In following his young protagonist and his mother Madonna (Mylene Dizon), Fajardo articulates the impossibility of the lives bestowed upon them. It’s a deeply assured piece of direction and though it only plays a few emotional notes, they are ones that won’t soon leave your memory. The Hearing gives us course after course of heart-wrenching scenarios tied to the POV of its child protagonist that it’s hard to get a sense of any course of action than the one chosen. This is not an easy movie by any stretch of the imagination. Lucas' situation goes from dire to almost unwatchable. The director allows us to enter into the boy’s mind. We watch this movie not as concerned adults but as complicit secret-sharers and that makes all the difference. But the polemical is never as powerful as the personal and Fr. Mejor's (Rom Factolerin) part of the story illuminates the whole with nauseating clarity. They welcomed him because he was their conduit to the church on which they counted for solace and support. By the time it's told, his unnerving air of detachment has been shown to be emblematic of an indifference endemic in the church itself. Fajardo isn’t interested in giving the audience the kind of relief so absent from the children Lucas represents. 

     The most abiding image is the face of Lucas himself. He has lost the ability to smile and has effectively bottled up his tears, except when at the point of despair or suffused by the memory of his abuse. This cut uses POV to present the young boy's journey, evoking his limited hearing frequently via unflashy manipulations of the film’s soundtrack and careful placement of the camera. Thankfully, Fajardo provides moments of tenderness and finds ways to inject small bits of humor when he can. Most of all, it helps that the film is built around an incredible, singular performance from Osorio as Lucas. In scenes of quiet desperation, Fajardo’s camera focuses on Osorio’s eyes and his defeated body posture to get a sense of the internal fight going on in his head. There’s a melancholy tone throughout the film, even in its most innocent moments. The young actor is an unforgettable, charismatic presence. His is a performance I can easily see coming up in future discussions about all-time great work by child actors. There is a naturalistic quality to the movie on the fact that Osorio acted spontaneously. He brought an undeniable truth to every moment used in the film, which was cut down to a running time of 1 hour and 35 minutes. Fajardo set about rebuilding the film allowing him to completely redefine the feature. During this process, he was able to paste over the cracks, build upon the film’s core concepts to create the kind of narrative and thematic tension the original version had been sorely missing. In a handful of drone shots, Fajardo extends his lens beyond the suffering of his characters. There’s no doubt that he is a filmmaker of extreme empathy, with real intuition on how to capture the dynamic between parents and their children in particular. There is passion and compassion here and Fajardo's film brings home the meaning of desperation and, conversely what love and humanity mean.


Screenplay: Lawrence Fajardo, Honeylyn Joy Alipio

Director of Photography: Roberto "Boy" Yñiguez

Editors: Lawrence Fajardo, Ysabelle Denoga

Production Designers: Ian Traifalgar, Endi "Hai" Balbuena

Musical Scorer: Peter Legaste, Joaquin Santos

Sound Design: Jannina Mikaela Minglanilla, Michaela Docena

Directed By: Lawrence Fajardo

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