SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     A thriller conjured out of suppressed fears, Joselito Altarejos' Pamilya sa Dilim (ADCC Productions, 2076 Kolektib, 2023) is a concentration of ecstasy and violence devised in a perfect union of ideological paradox and existential instability. Through a combination of headstrong ambition and opportunistic abandon, Altarejos managed to tap this mother lode of disquietude. The basic premise is so thunderously resonant that it’s easy to overlook the skill with which Altarejos has gotten to its dramatic turning point. With simmering tensions and fractured psyches, Altarejos presented an ideal platform for his cast to deliver some of the finest work of their careers. Allen Dizon is fascinating, yet vulnerable as Eddie Boy, but it’s Laurice Guillen’s complex portrayal of Mamang Anita, the matriarch of the Medialdea family, that remains to be the film’s most captivating element. Her ability to mine gravitas may have brought her closer to the core of the movie than her celebrated co-stars could reach. Guillen's showcase scene and the film’s, comes when she recalls how her husband met his fate then all of a sudden the figures in her story appear and begin speaking their parts. From watching her past unfold Mamang Anita exits the shot and then joins the ghostly tableau, she has come unstuck in time. Memory is a selection of images, some elusive, others imprinted indelibly on the brain. In this spectral pageant, Mamang Anita shows us the pain of her memories and misfortune. This moment of attenuated stillness is pure cinema, and so is the eruption that follows. 

     Inday (Boo Originals, EpicMedia, 2018) is a scary movie with teeth, not just blood and entrails -- a gripping piece of work that jangles your nerves without leaving your brain hanging. And so, for a change, you emerge feeling energized and exhilarated rather than enervated or merely queasy. Recently faddish torture-and-gore pictures zero in on anatomical violation at the expense of more resonant archetypal terrors, those things that go bump in the long, dark night. Inday is a breathless descent into chaos and madness. What follows is a sensationally entertaining escalation of frights, the kind that make you wiggle and squirm as you marvel at the filmmaker's cunning and craft. What helps make Inday one of the better horror entertainment is how director Lawrence Fajardo and screenwriter John Bedia mess with our heads long before the monster does simply by tapping into our most primitive fears. Working with resourceful cinematographer Albert Banzon, Fajardo carves out an increasingly unsettling and claustrophobic world by keeping the lights down. The ingenious palette adds to the spooky beauty of the otherworldly setting. The scream of a high-pitched voice poised to believe, as we have so many times before, that this female cry is one of terror. 

     The sound, used to both reaffirm and then immediately invert our sense of social gender norms, provides a starting point to an ultimately blood-soaked film where we get to be petrified. Almost immediately in a moment of induced panic, hysteria festers among hacienda worker Berto (Milton Dionzon), his wife Almira (Renne Posecion) and son Kiko (Neil Bagasi). Yet, unlike many horror films where the victims are passive or weak, they can only turn toward themselves. And while Berto is scared (and rightly so), he desperately attempts to face the oppressive atmosphere enveloping them. A run in the woods is reminiscent of Jonathan Demme’s The Silence of the Lambs (1991), its very nature is suggestive of what is to come later. Fajardo's characters do panic and make foolish choices after the first attack by the flesh-eating Master, their frenzy is trapped and overcome. We see reflections, variations, and gradations of ourselves in Inday. While it’s somewhat surprising that Fajardo’s film still feels startlingly fresh due to its cast of relative unknowns, one can only hope that directors and producers increasingly capitalize on these talented actors—in all their glory.

Directed By: Lawrence Fajardo

Screenplay: John Bedia

Director of Photography: Albert Banzon

Editor: Lawrence Fajardo

Musical Scorer: Peter Legaste

Sound Engineer: Alex Tomboc, Aian Caro

     Filmmaker Roman Perez Jr. is a genuine obsessive who directs like an avant-garde butcher. His films play off a central juxtaposition: At the same time his characters are behaving like pigs, his style is one of luxuriously controlled aestheticism. On one level you can describe the movie simply in terms of the characters and the lustful and unspeakable things they do to one another. On another level, there is no end to the ideas stirred up by this movie. Between, there lies a simple tale of adultery, jealousy and revenge. The artifice is a great part of the work's effectiveness. Perez's stroke of genius is to create a self-consciously false world peopled with character types who slowly become real enough to evoke pain and sadness. The dark comic moments in Litsoneras (Viva Films, 2023) are rare, but they do sneak in at unexpected times. Things take a turn for the worse when Minerva (Jamilla Obispo), with uncoy vigor, takes a lover right under her husband Eloy's (Joko DIaz) nose. Jonas (Victor Relosa) exhanges glances with Minerva and soon, her daughter Elria (Yen Durano) catches them making love. Their unabashedly revealed sexual adventure continues. Elria gains her revenge by having sex with Jonas. Eloy gets wind of the affair and the battle lines are drawn. If Litsoneras were any less explicit, that moral battle would certainly have been diminished.

     Supergirl (Prima Productions, 1973) is never as boldly witty as Lipad, Darna, Lipad!  When it goes for campy laughs, it falls flat on its face. Even Odette Khan, who seems to be vastly enjoying her mad scientist role, is constrained by the mildness of the material. Pinky makes a four-square heroine of unrelenting sincerity, but she's hardly a live wire. Female superheroes as a genre didn’t have much of history outside of comic books, the Vilma Santos Darna series being the only notable one at the time. The appearance of Supergirl is an indication if the producers ever consciously knew the real secret of the movies is to laugh condescendingly at the characters (which is what the writer, director and even some of the actors have started to do). We go to recapture some of the lost innocence of the whole notion of superheroes. And the result is an unfunny, unexciting movie. Supergirl counters most of the bad elements without much effort, so not much drama to be found there. Aside from confronting a giant, monstrous frog and thwarting the undead we don’t get much in the way of cool Supergirl action, none of this is particularly impressive.

     I must confess to a special fondness for comedies in which the rules of time, space and logic are suspended so that misguided people can straighten themselves out. Here Comes the Groom's (Quantum Films, Cineko Productions, Brightlight Productions, 2023) measure of integrity is that it moves smoothly, convincingly and with minimal self-consciousness from farce to earnest sentiment, earning your tears at the climactic rapprochement because it has treated you so generously to laughter on the way. Loud but never coarse, candid without being prurient, Here Comes the Groom is a quick-witted, perfectly modulated farce with a pair of beautifully matched performances from Keempee de Leon and especially Enchong Dee, who does some of his best work ever. Both tears and laughter arise from writer-director Chris Martinez's canny and unforced understanding of what makes his characters tick. Rodrigo (De Leon) and Junior (Dee) are recognizable types but also solid individuals, something that becomes clear only after their identity swap. In De Leon, we see the wistfulness and uncertainty beside his facade of brisk confidence. Similarly, it is only when Junior (Dee) is thrown into Wilhelmina's (KaladKaren) person that his strong, passionate ardor comes into full view. 

     Dee's performance is a marvel. He bounds beyond mimicry and gimmickry. He’s nothing short of dazzling as he enjoys one of his relatively rare opportunities to showcase his splendid comic timing and graceful physicality. De Leon always had an undercurrent of playfulness, his masterful interpretation of Wanda’s (Xilhouete) persona from voice inflection to simple hand gestures is frighteningly accurate yet funny. Sheer perfection! With a natural and nuanced ease, he just gets better with every role. Early scenes are a tad too over-emphatic, almost strident, really as Martinez errs on the side of obviousness while setting up familiar premise. Once he completes his expository duties, Martinez lightens his touch to allow for a freer, friskier sort of comedic interplay. Here Comes the Groom comes complete with maxims about seeing life through someone else’s eyes and appreciating the pressures brought to bear on loved ones. To his credit, Martinez sugar-coats the bite-sized life lessons with humor and verve. A strong supporting cast including Tony Labrusca, whose character Hans reveals surprising depth and decency in a key scene. Gladys Reyes on the other hand is a comic delight as Rodrigo's sprightly wife, Salve. A winning combination of acting, writing and direction, Here Comes the Groom will have you wondering what freak of nature occurred to bring us this delightfully refreshing comedy.

Sound Design: Janinna Minglanilla, Emilio Bien Sparks

Music: Emerzon Texon

Editor: Dennis Austria Salgado

Production Design: Angel Diesta

Director of Photography: Moises M.M. Zee, LPS

Written and Directed By; Chris Martinez