SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     What Vilma Santos achieves in Maryo J. de los Reyes' Tagos ng Dugo (VH Films, 1987) isn't a performance but an embodiment. With courage, art and charity, she empathizes with Josepina Ramos Regala, a damaged woman who simply asks that we witness a woman's final desperate attempt to be a better person than her fate intended. The performance is so focused and intense that it becomes a fact of life. Observe the way Santos controls her eyes in the film; there is not a flicker of inattention, as she urgently communicates what she is feeling and thinking. There's the uncanny sensation that Santos has forgotten the camera and the screenplay and is directly channeling her ideas about Pina. She has made herself the instrument of this character. Her transformation into a street prostitute, where she strides into the shadows before stepping forward to talk with Cesar Garcia (Miguel Rodriguez), a handsome young man who has found her in a strip mall after dark. I was simply watching one of the most real people I had ever seen on the screen. Pina's initial kill is justifiable. Having been raped as a child, she uses the knife in self-defense. Pina’s victims become progressively more innocent, with one simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. With a dying conscience, she dispatches Edwin (Michael de Mesa) and seals her fate. De Los Reyes presents the killings in a straightforward manner. Although we understand Pina's reasoning, we neither sympathize nor empathize with her. 

     It’s devastating the way director Jerry Lopez Sineneng depicted how the domino-effect destruction of Rita (Vivamax, 2024) came within milliseconds of never happening. Rita (Christine Bermas) could pick up and perish the idea of sleeping with her husband Ariel's (Victor Relosa) best friend, Royce (Josh Ivan Morales). Sineneng has never been much for subtlety, but he understands that the psychology of erotic fantasy has as much potential to obliterate as to titillate. Rita never arouses, judges or mounts a morality play: It’s a dark, delusional piece of sultry fantasia that doesn’t condemn or condone Ariel or Rita’s choices. It simply presents people surprised by the ease with which they transgress and allow little white lies to fester into tumorous deceptions. Sineneng pulls out all the stops to display his lovers' erotic trysts. Playing down his handsomeness, Relosa invests Ariel with such palpable hurt. It’s such an emotionally naked performance, couched in understatement. Other strong performances are offered by Morales whose character is both repulsive and mysterious (that is part of his allure). Royce's charm is a convincing temptation and an interesting choice for Rita's dalliance. Perhaps the most balanced character is Rita's younger brother Marlon, played sensitively by Gold Aceron. As the confused and guilt-stricken Rita, Bermas is asked to run the full spectrum of emotions, from unexpected joy to emptiness to heartbreak and every step is a performance of blistering intensity. 

     Darryl Yap treats love and loss with a disarming tenderness and a refusal of sentimentality that make his fifteenth feature, something of an anomaly among male identity flicks. Para Kang Papa Mo (Viva Films, Vincentiments, 2023) is about men and the male performances are terrific. In casting Mark Anthony Fernandez and Nikko Natividad, Yap not only chose two actors that actually look like they could be father and son but actors who fit into their roles with ease. Natividad is perfect, injecting Harry with subtlety abound, but it’s a deceptively restrained performance about a gradual development. Fernandez merrily falls into his role, capturing all the life apparent in this newly blissful way of living; fortunately, Yap never shows Fernandez as the absent father from Harry's childhood, allowing viewers to see him only as a new man. He brings Harry into his new life, giving him the chance to get to know and appreciate his father on a completely different level. Their relationship blossoms in ways that are emotionally authentic and satisfying. It's all about dropping their inhibitions to be sincere and silly with one another. Natividad and Fernandez say so much with their facial expressions and body language that the struggle and longing for human connection comes across loud and clear despite never being articulated. Ruby Ruiz gives a full-bodied performance as Tita Tita, a woman with her own issues but sweet and funny. She could have so easily been turned into a one-note role, but Ruiz brings her to life wondrously. The last component is Jao Mapa's Jose whose presence has many of the same qualities as Fernandez’s role, but with a particular charm. 

     We also get further insight into how Anton feels during these little scenes where Harry speaks in voiceover accompanied by a series of images on screen illustrating his point. Also, while most of the scenes are framed in a pretty yet straightforward way, the focal point, which in most films is usually somewhere on the side is quite often set dead-center resulting in a jolt to the senses. This is symbolic of the whole film, where the simplest things have the biggest impact. The story is triggered by illness and death, but in a simple turnaround, the film is not about these things. Instead, Yap uses Harry's death as a way to explore how Anton changes as a result of it—and not even the actual loss, as such, but in the recollection of lives lived with a purpose. There’s a warmth about Para Kang Papa Mo that you don’t feel in many films today. These are good characters, good people and Yap has made it easy to fall in love with them. Though the story involves a lot of highs and lows, going deep into grave material, the experience induces an instant smile that doesn’t fade for the duration perhaps because Harry and Anton try to remain outside of the commotion and therefore prevent the film’s mood from becoming severe. It’s never too much to bear, but also doesn’t let us get away without shedding a tear or having a few hearty laughs. That moment of sincere appreciation in the face of inevitable devastation is one that is repeated throughout the film. Para Kang Papa Mo is joyous in the places we're accustomed to misery. Yap has delivered a film whose idiosyncrasies are nothing short of charming and whose small story is eclipsed by its considerable heart.

Sound Design: Aian Louie Caro

Music By: Emerzon Texon

Editor: Vincent L. Asis

Editor: Arel Ebana

Production Designer: Gie Shock Jose

Written and Directed By: Darryl Yap

     Hindi Mo Ako Kayang Tapakan (V.H. Films, 1985) is one of those epic sagas that seem to have been made for television. The film by Maryo J. de los Reyes tells the rags-to-riches story of Doña Anastacia Hernandez Vda. de Tuazon. At nearly 80 years old, she heads one of the largest business conglomerations. Hindi Mo Ako Kayang Tapakan reflects on Tacing’s past and improbable rise to power from humble beginnings working her way to the top of a highly successful business empire. Revenge, ambition and power, complicated with an assortment of sexual entanglements - the formula is written in stone. Hindi Mo Ako Kayang Tapakan begins with a scene set for a flashback that takes up most of the film. Tacing's first appearance is one of the key moments in a film that resists being reduced to a handful of iconic images. Played with elegant authority by Charo Santos raging against her helplessness even while playing it up to manipulate others. With that much going for him, De Los Reyes does a first-rate job of establishing a solid sense of time and place. All of which makes Hindi Mo Ako Kayang Tapakan one of the more appealing examples of its special genre. Tacing works for Doña Consuelo Romero (Charito Solis) while her mother Josefina (Liza Lorena) leaves for Manila. She becomes romantically involved with Angelo (Albert Martinez). Tacing responds, ignoring the housekeeper's warning that You're stepping out of your class, and you'll get nothing but trouble. Which is precisely what she gets. Tacing swears vengeance for the wrongs inflicted on her. Be assured that before she is finished, Angelo will be begging for mercy and forgiveness. 

     Wanting to begin a new life for herself and her unborn child, Tacing moves to Manila aided by her best friend, Thelma (Chanda Romero). Poverty ridden, she is helped by Lt. Tom Baker (Michael de Mesa), a generous and equally ambitious American soldier and much later, Senator Ramon Tuazon (Robert Arevalo), who teaches her fundamentals of the trade. Tacing's business continues to expand and she goes into partnership with Ramon. Unfortunately, her private life doesn't run as smoothly. Of course, she must pay for her subsequent success. Tacing learns of a plot among her greedy children to oust her from control and seize her assets. Tacing tells them that she has changed her will, effectively cutting her own children out for their deceit and leaving everything to her grandchildren instead. Vivid impressions are retained of Dante Rivero’s work as trusted confidant, Atty. Teddy Velasco; Al Tantay as Nardo; Joel Torre as Rollan Tuazon and Gina Alajar as Josephine, Tacing’s eldest daughter who makes the most of her few appearances. There are literally scores of parts and bits, Rosemarie Gil is excellent as Monica, Ramon’s long suffering wife. Hindi Mo Ako Kayang Tapakan turns on the moment of Tacing’s first appearance and in an instant, her face freezes in dismay. De Los Reyes' film aches with regret, but its feelings are complicated by its protagonist through a quietly devastating final shot. His approach to the material is to, simply, not wrestle with it at all. Instead, he embraces its novelistic conceits. Hindi Mo Ako Kayang Tapakan all but weeps with a sense of emotional loss. 

Sound Engineer: Rudy Baldovino

Production Design: Butch Garcia, PDGP

Cinematography: Joe Batac, Jr., FSC

Music: Willy Cruz

Film Editor: Edgardo "Boy" Vinarao, FEGMP

Screenplay: Jake Tordesillas

Directed By: Maryo J. de los Reyes

     While Jose Abdel B. Langit's Mapanukso (Vivamax, LDG Production, 2024) maintains a light-hearted feel for the first 45 minutes or so, there comes a turning point near the end of the second act that hurtles the film into a vortex of “the dangers of the male stripping business” cliches that fly across the screen with all the subtlety of a Reefer Madness to the forehead, but with virtually no amount of self-awareness. The film’s downfall is the fact that it had to have a plot replete with paper-thin characters. Putting it quite bluntly, Angelo (Itan Rosales) is a massive douche. He’s highly unlikable, presented as charming, but comes off as arrogant. Angelo wanders through the world with a highly undeserved sense of entitlement and becomes petulant when he can’t have his way. Sean de Guzman is actually quite good lending Carlo a degree of authenticity that makes him at least relatable. You feel like you’ve known someone like him before and while you might (rightfully) think he’s arrogant, you can’t help but want to be around him. He has an air of accomplishment that’s completely unwarranted and entirely fabricated, but is held aloft by De Guzman’s presence and conviction. He’s also a dexterous dancer, his limbs are flexible and malleable as the dubstep baselines he dances to. The best parts of the film are, without a doubt the dance numbers, which almost make you forget the suffocating melodrama surrounding them. It’s a shame that the rest of the cast doesn’t make the same impact or investment. Rosales tries his best, but there’s only so much he or anybody else could do with Angelo, he never once seems believable as an adrift 18-year-old. Only Primo (Marco Gomez) gets anything like character development and that’s only when he’s stoned out. What makes the film so completely disappointing is its hoary, shopworn take on the world of stripping. 

     There isn’t a cautionary tale trope that screenwriter Quinn Carillo doesn’t love, making sure to throw in as many as she can. I’m not saying that Mapanukso can’t be genuinely dramatic in-between the crotch-thrusting on-stage antics of the young men. It flirts with the idea of how someone like Carlo doesn’t quite fit into the real world but that’s quickly abandoned for another scene of someone doing something lurid. The strip show elements are intended to be background setting. Granted, it’s hard to call it erotic, because it isn’t that at all. Male strip shows aren’t about eroticism, it's about cheap thrills. Violent pelvic thrusts are common choreography and the whole thing seems so overtly sexual that it actually becomes inert. Don’t tell that to the women in the audience, however, because they’re all going crazy for it since this is one of the only outlets women traditionally have. And this brings up another point: this film is strictly for the ladies. The film may have been marketed heavily to gay men, which makes total sense because if there’s one thing gay men love, it’s a full basket and an ass so tight you could bounce coins off of it. However, there’s nothing gay about the film. There are no bromances to speak of, not a single man in the audience and the idea that the men may end up occasionally entertaining other men is never even approached. It’s a heteronormative fantasy and one of the ways the film feels distinctly unreal. Everything is geared to appeal to a traditional female demographic to the point of absurdity. If you wanted to see Mon Mendoza or Calvin Reyes shake their stuff, don’t bother. You would be better off checking out their shirtless photos online, after all the pictures have about as much depth as the characters they portrayed.

Screenplay: Quinn Carillo

Director of Photography: T.M. Malones

Editor: Kurt Jimenez

Production Design: Jay Custodio

Music: Dek Margaja

Sound Mix: Paulo Estero

Directed By: Jose Abdel B. Langit