SEXUAL PARANOIA


     Initially, the circumstances in Kasalanan Bang Sambahin Ka? (Viva Films, 1990) are innocent enough. Alex (Julio Diaz), a soon to be married executive goes on a date with Catherine (Vivian Velez), a stock broker. They're obviously attracted to each other, but when they move beyond the flirting stage to Catherine's apartment, where they make love on the stairs, the sex is explosively erotic, but at the same time, funny. Chito Roño knows how to give audiences their vicarious kicks. He excites them, then gives a little release by making them laugh. Alex and Catherine spend one night and part of the next day together in the way that one seldom does except in the first flush of a new love affair. Very quickly they establish an easy intimacy and in her head, Catherine is already making plans for the future. After one night, she falls in love, he doesn't. The movie, written by Jose Javier Reyes has a rock-solid premise although it's an odd one for a thriller, it works beautifully. Kasalanan Bang Sambahin Ka? has an inescapable pull to it, it's suffocatingly exciting. Roño's direction has seductive sharpness and precision. On the surface, the story is a female revenge fantasy, it's the expression of every woman's anger on the morning after a one-night stand when the lovemaking is over and the man has left and that empty, used-up feeling starts to creep in. But the movie takes the man's point of view, not the woman's, it's about the male fear of female emotions, their dread that casual pleasure-taking will turn into messy entanglements.

     All this, which adds up to make the point that there is no such thing as safe sex is banked into the subtext and because it builds on existing sexual fears, the movie may come across as being more serious than it is. Kasalanan Bang Sambahin Ka? is deep but only superficially. Roño is interested in ideas only to the extent that they buttress the thriller aspect of his story. But he's savvy in his titillating, manipulative way about sexual attitudes. He knows for example, that Alex's troubles with Catherine tighten his bond to his fiancée Grace (Dawn Zulueta). What this enables Roño to do is create a sense that something is at stake. Roño is particularly good at conveying the affection between Alex and Grace. But as Grace, Zulueta makes the job easy for him. She's spectacular here. The sexiest moment in the movie, in fact, isn't the one in which Velez and Diaz first make love, but the one in which Alex looks at Grace from across the table. Grace is presented as a model, modern woman, good-spirited, self-deprecating, efficient but she doesn't come across as a drudge. She's happy in her life, fulfilled. In other words, she's everything Catherine would like to be but isn't. Catherine has a career and just about nothing else. Clearly, the filmmakers would like us to see her as the down side of the women's movement, the woman who bought all the rhetoric and missed out on her chance for happiness. Whatever the history though, her fling with Alex pushes her over the edge.

     The part of Catherine is essentially that of a hysteric and it's not a flattering one, but Velez doesn't recoil from this woman or try to soften her. Velez plunges deep into this woman's derangement and her level of involvement gives it a greater validity, you can't just cross her off as a crazy. This is by far the most exposed Velez has allowed herself to be in her movie roles, she's never had this kind of forcefulness. The pain and anger in her portrayal are frighteningly potent perhaps because they're just an extension of the normal gut-wrenching awfulness everybody experiences when love affairs go sour. The rage she expresses is mythically feminine. Still, she's a profoundly unsympathetic figure. Strangely enough, the film's sympathy goes to Alex, even though he's the one who must suffer for his indiscretion. Alex isn't an exciting man, he's settled and a little complacent. That puts him right within Julio Diaz's range. He is skillful without really engaging you. I think he's wrong for swashbuckling parts, he's too average but he can convey goodness and he's sexy in a kind of nonthreatening way, he's decent. There are things wrong with Kaslanan Bang Sambahin Ka? Once the central situation is laid out, it evolves pretty much the way you thought it might. Also, presenting Diaz as such a nice guy robs the character of some of his vitality, a little darkness in his soul might have added another dimension. Roño screws things down pretty tight, though. This is a spectacularly well-made thriller. It's being as effective as it is may not, in the long run, be such a plus. It is an odd thing, really, the movie is sexy and at the same time a warning about the costs of sex. It contributes to the atmosphere of sexual paranoia. And is that something we really need?

Production Designer: Charlie Arceo
Cinematographer: Jun Pereira
Sound Supervision: Albert Rima
Film Editor: Joe Solo
Musical Director: Willy Cruz
Screenplay: Jose Javier Reyes
Additional Screenplay: Racquel Villavicencio
Directed By: Chito Roño 

NOTHING BUT SEX


     Although it is not pure exploitation, Paano ang Aking Gabi? (Seiko Films, Inc., 1986) comes close to being about nothing but sex. In effect, the entertainment value of this film comes completely from its sex sequences. The good thing about Paano ang Aking Gabi? is that there are only four major characters, Carina (Lala Montelibano) the mistress, her sugar daddy Florencio (Ronaldo Valdez), Soledad (Merle Fernandez), a spinster and kept man Rafael (Greggy Liwag). Everyone in the film is depersonalized. Carina thinks of her body as merchandise. Rafael enjoys sex with Soledad but has no feelings at all towards her, she is, in the language of feminists, a sex object. The focus of the plot is Carina’s problem, perhaps with a little of Rafael’s, but there is no need in terms of plot to dwell on Soledad’s problems. In terms of theme of course, Soledad is as much a major character as everyone else. As a director, Efren C. Piñon, clearly failed to motivate his actors properly since in other films, Ronaldo Valdez played similar characters competently. Greggy Liwag seems undecided about playing his part as a brooding young man or a dashing gigolo. Lala Montelibano’s portrayal does a disservice to her reputation as an actress of some talent and to the young girl’s characterization which may account for her conscious effort to be dramatic. A misconception that Piñon did not choose or know how to correct. All of her external manifestations only succeed to create an intolerable and unsympathetic character. 

     Of course she did not get much help from the screenplay, but has she striven for some interiority in characterization, the role of Carina might conceivably come off more credibly. The writers’ inability to come up with a more inventive plot development works against Montelibano’s character portrayal. In this case, the blame is split fifty-fifty. Similarly, Merle Fernandez is embarrassing. Soledad is supposed to be a woman who just started to live her life, torn by the realization that she is losing her lover to a much younger woman. That is a mouthful, even for an experienced actress. Fernandez, sad to say, just cannot cope. It is the direction, actually, rather than the writing, that is the root of the problem here. Longer and subtler sequences could have brought out the complex emotional problems encountered by the characters, especially Fernandez’s. But a film’s substance is judged by the coherence and integrity of its screenplay, the intelligence of the acting and the perception and control exercised by the direction. Paano ang Aking Gabi? exhibits marked flaws on the first two points and as for Piñon’s direction, it is mostly and merely functional.

Production Designer: Ben Payumo
Sound Engineer: Gaudencio Barredo
Director of Photography: Clodualdo Austria
Film Editor: Edgardo Vinarao
Music By: Snaffu Rigor
Screenplay: Joe Carreon, George Vail Kabistante
Directed By: Efren C. Piñon

SEAMLESS AND FLAWLESS


     In the first episode of Beerhouse (Regal Films, Inc., 1977), director Elwood Perez takes us inside a bustling tenement and lets us watch Carol (Vivian Velez) and Lilian (Trixia Gomez). What we see is funny, insightful, banal, sad, tedious, informational, infuriating, everything but erotic. There is businesslike sex, upstairs in the bedroom between Carol and her clients and one after another sexual situation, but it would be difficult to find anything remotely sexy in those exchanges. That's exactly Perez's point and the grinding out of loveless love would be even more depressing if its purveyors weren't as lively as sharply funny and as interesting as they all are. Carol's place is also airlessly claustrophobic, a quality that grows on us as pervasively as it does on Lilian, it's only one of Perez's devices to give us a feeling of what her work is really like. Perez spins out the details of these women's lives cannily, but his real forte is his work with his actors. With Trixia Gomez's increasingly put-upon Lilian as the central force of his film and Vivian Velez's feisty and utterly irreverent Carol as its great set-piece, Perez has two performances that are unmatched in their simplicity, straightforwardness and strength. And the men? They're good and a few of them very good. Jordan Crisostomo is touching as the girl-shy Nonoy, so smitten by Carol he brings her the shirt off his back. Ernie Garcia appears as Nanding, the man who breaks Lilian's heart.

     The next segment has Jenny (Chanda Romero) and Tito (Freddie Quizon) making the transitional leap from their own paths in life, trying not to focus too much on the pressure that comes with it. Hanging precariously over them, however, is the weight of an unplanned pregnancy and a family that threaten to shatter their feelings for each other. While the narrative itself couldn’t be more timely, it’s the way in which the carousel of relationships that exist around the lives of Tito and Jenny connect as a whole that lends an air of noble honesty to the episode. It’s a rare treat to watch characters so nakedly unvarnished interact and play out a story that is identifiable and genuine while dealing with the emotional impact of such weighty issues as abortion and depression. At the heart of the movie are Tito and Jenny and the film simply wouldn’t work without the natural chemistry between them. There’s a tender naiveté to the way their feelings develop, an innocence and charm about how they view life and the potential it holds. This is an affectionate low-key drama that touches all the right notes without ever resorting to over sentimentality. Don’t be put off by the mournful subject matter as the story that it’s built around is an altogether more sensitive affair.

     From the final segment’s opening scene, Perez pulls us into the seedy and repugnant life of Rosario (Charito Solis), completely devoid of morals, chastity and self-respect. Despite the subject matter, Perez's sophisticated hand gives us the ability to see Rosario with a motherly concern rather than immaterial disgust. We see the world through her eyes as Perez holds the camera on her face, allowing us to completely take in her thoughts and emotions. What will become of Rosario who has seen and done such things? Jomari (Eddie Gutierrez) slowly becomes the hero we hope can eventually end the madness. Jomari convinces us that he can save Rosario from despair. Solis, as Rosario is seamless and flawless. She gives a very textured performance of a mother torn between the love for her daughter, the struggle to succeed and the need for caring and support. Her role consists of several multi-faceted characteristics, mother, hooker and businesswoman, yet she convinces us in each one. The task asked of Cherie Gil is a mighty one, Corazon is tragically suspended somewhere between pre-pubescence and adulthood yet Perez capitalizes on Gil's screen presence and beautifully innocent charm. I was constantly expecting a tragic event to go down until I finally realized that the tragedy was the situation itself. Perez carefully served up the tale of a mother in a lifestyle we don't want to know exists. They feed us with just enough information to finish out Rosario's life according to our own hopes, desires and emotions.

Sound Supervision: Luis Reyes
Film Editor: Ben Barcelon
Screenplay: Nicanor Tiongson
Music: Demet Velasquez
Production Design: Pedro Perez, Ray Maliuanag
Direction: Elwood Perez

FAMILIAL TREACHERY


     The slums of Tondo crush the titular heroine of Lino Brocka's Insiang (Cinemanila Corporation, 1976), a young woman trapped in an environment of destitution and abuse which she can only struggle against violently and vainly. Brocka's portrait of familial treachery and societal abandonment channels its melodrama through the filter of neorealism, its story's heightened emotions kept at a simmer yet meticulously composed. Certainly, the root of her misery extends all the way home where her mother Tonya (Mona Lisa), bitter about her husband's departure, kicks her financially strapped in-laws to the curb so her young lover, Dado (Ruel Vernal) can move in before proceeding to badger her daughter into a Machiavellian rage. Beset by maternal resentment, her boyfriend Bebot's (Rez Cortez) callousness and Dado's rapist tendencies, Insiang (Hilda Koronel) plots her revenge with Brocka expertly dramatizing the understandable, if not prudent reasons for each character's behavior. What registers forcefully throughout isn't Insiang's literal plot twists and turns as much as the pervading mood of lonely powerlessness and the reactionary impulse to strike back against intractable forces and situations by any means necessary. It's an undercurrent conveyed by Koronel's guileless countenance and Brocka's unaffected depiction of the impoverished setting and its beleaguered inhabitants. Insiang's defiant actions cast the film as a lurid ode to feminist self-actualization. But with the misery-wrought finale and its tangled knot of obstinate, volatile, unfulfilled feelings and desires, Brocka ensures that any minor triumph enjoyed by his morally and emotionally warped protagonist is tempered by an overriding dose of bittersweet sorrow and despair.

     Frequent Brocka collaborator, cinematographer Conrado Baltazar shot the film in the open-matte 1.37:1 aspect ratio making sure to leave room at the top and bottom of the frame to facilitate a full image, though a boom mike can be seen in one scene which leads me to believe that the film was framed incorrectly. Ironically, Insiang was released on DVD by Cine Filipino in its preferred format, lopping off the top and bottom in order to decrease the width of the black bars when viewed on 16x9 screens. Baltazar's camerawork combines gritty naturalism with core noir elements to produce a stunning image that's always been difficult to reproduce in the home video realm. Martin Scorsese's World Cinema Project however, has done a spectacular job, creating a new digital transfer in 4K resolution from the original camera negative. Here, the realism is uncompromised, with medium grain enhancing the slum setting and rough exteriors. Some of the solid backgrounds appear a little noisy at times and a few scenes suffer from a nagging bit of softness, but on the whole, the image is clear and well modulated. Close-ups caress Mona Lisa's iconic face and Koronel's unspoiled loveliness. Without a doubt, Insiang has never looked better and this superior effort makes an unforgettable film even more powerful. Dialogue can be problematic at times, bass frequencies are strong, nuances are also a bit more pronounced, but they seamlessly blend into the film's fabric. Criterion’s high-def presentation features a top-notch video and audio transfer, and fascinating extras to make every viewer an authority on this classic film. Like the best movies, it satisfies on many levels, forcing us to think about and reflect on a variety of substantive themes. It also inspires unabashed admiration for the sheer talent on display in front of and behind the camera. Insiang is one of the truly great Filipino films and an absolute must own.

Art Director: Fiel Zabat
Sound Supervision: Rudy Baldovino
Screenplay: Mario O'Hara, Lamberto E. Antonio
Director of Cinematography: Conrado Baltazar, F.S.C.
Film Editor: Augusto Salvador
Music: Minda D. Azarcon
Direction: Lino Brocka

MEASURED INTENSITY


     The heroine of Mario O'Hara's Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos (NV Productions, 1976) is a creature of contradictory attributes that isn't easy to imagine in the flesh. Rosario would seem too oversized to be embodied by any actress, even by an actress of extraordinary resourcefulness and versatility. Nora Aunor has already established herself as a performer of that caliber, but nothing in her earlier work fully anticipated Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos. Aunor accomplishes the near-impossible, presenting Rosario in believably human terms. In a role affording every opportunity for overstatement, she offers a performance of such measured intensity that the results are by turns exhilarating and heartbreaking. There is hardly an emotion that Aunor doesn't touch in this movie and yet we're never aware of her straining. This is one of the most astonishing and yet one of the most unaffected and natural performances I can imagine. Conrado Baltazar photographs Aunor excellently. To begin with, she looks more translucently beautiful than ever and what Aunor has wrought, with O'Hara's help, is a psychological verity for Rosario that she reveals through patterns of motion. She seems to be shunning the close scrutiny of others. Yes, she often faces people, often embraces, converses with them, but the overall impression of her movement is sidling, gently attempting to hide herself in open space. Through this kinetic concept, Aunor gives Rosario an aura of concealment. Sometimes O'Hara hands the picture over to Aunor. The camera fixes on her in medium close-up and virtually without any change of shot, she tells a story. It’s what Ingmar Bergman has done a number of times with Liv Ullmann and it’s been done before with Aunor.

     Presented in an aspect ratio of 1.33:1 and granted a 1080p transfer, Mario O'Hara's Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos was restored in 2016 by L'Immagine Ritrovata in Italy and the digital transfer was created from the surviving 35mm print deposited at the Cultural Center of the Philippines. I find the new appearance of the film unconvincing. There is an entire range of color values that effectively destabilizes the film's native dynamic range and in many cases even collapses existing detail. Plenty of the darker/indoor footage convey very specific digital flatness that gives the film a distracting artificial quality. Grain exposure is unrealistic although I have to make it clear that without the anomalies described above the visuals would have been quite wonderful. Image stability is very good. Debris, cuts, damage marks, stains and other standard age-related imperfections have been carefully removed. There is only one standard audio track on this release, Tagalog LPCM 2.0 with optional English subtitles for the main feature. Excluding one short segment where a light echo effect appears during the exchanges, clarity and stability are otherwise 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. Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos is so perfectly cast. A fine, absorbing and wonderfully acted movie about three people who flounder in the bewilderment of being human in an age of madness. Watching it is quite an experience.

Art Director: Vicente Bonus
Film Editors: Ike Jarlego, Jr., Efren Jarlego
Director of Photography: Conrado Baltazar, F.S.C.
Music By: Minda D. Azarcon
Written and Directed By; Mario O'Hara