SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     In When I Met You in Tokyo's case, friendships between older people tend to focus more on a congenial present than digging into each other’s pasts or how inter-gender friendships become easier with age. Santos's performance can be savored for its subtlety, but even that robs the budding romance of its spark. Other than that, the film lacks any visual snap or panache to offset the tonal and narrative blandness. At best, it’s a reasonably sweet, unchallenging character piece that won’t insult older viewers by reflecting them poorly or shallowly. That feels like an accomplishment in itself. But in its relentless lack of significant affect or movement, When I Met You in Tokyo attempts to find a balance between the stimulatingly new and the comfortably familiar. Highly polished yet never quite slick, the film devolves into cartoonish cutesiness with its broadly drawn minor characters, as in a heavy-handed sequence in which Azon and her girlfriends behave like superannuated teenagers. But the main actors' emotional authenticity keeps the story from drowning in unfunny shtick or facile wish-fulfillment. It hangs on a screenplay as random as a dream. It drifts to and fro, leaning too hard on the sparkle provided by its veteran cast, never quite settling on what it wants to say or do. There is a central moment where When I Met You in Tokyo hits a tremendous peak of displayed beauty. That is when Joey steps up to the mic and belts out a rendition of the APO Hiking Society's When I Met You that will leave you speechless. Through song, you feel every ounce of the passionate balance between Joey's independence and loneliness. You see what he was and what he could still be. De Leon's solo is a dynamite moment that the rest of the film cannot match. The few good comedic elements doesn't fit the rest of the film and its weighty take on mortality and love at an advanced age detracts from the heft of what could have been a bigger, bolder dramatic statement or a fuller and more involving romance. When I Met You in Tokyo is one of those screenplays that might have been more interesting a couple of drafts ago, before the detours were closed off. And yet, when Santos’s Azon shares scenes with De Leon’s determined suitor, there’s considerable charm in the results. As When I Met You in Tokyo reminds us, Santos and De Leon are masters in the art of turning ordinary material into little bits of truth and life.

Sound: Armand de Guzman, Fatima Nerikka Salim, Immanuel Verona

Music: Jessie Lasaten

Editors: Froilan Francia, Karla Diaz

Production Designers: Buboy Tagayon, Rey Peru

Screenplay: Suzette Doctolero

Director of Photography: Shayne Sarte, LPS

Directors: Conrado Peru, Rommel Penesa

     Bernal's greatness as a director rested principally in that improvisatory brilliance, in his uncanny knack with actors. In a cast so large and uniformly superb, it seems unfair to pick any of them out even though Gina Pareño is the one who is handed a big, virtuoso, movie-stealing dialogue. It also lies in Bernal’s ability to free up an entire company to do their best work, his unique obsession with the whole process of making movies, the fact that he wouldn’t quit, no matter what. Appropriately, he won back the spotlight in the most impudent way possible, by laying bare the excesses and hypocrisies of Makati itself. Working Girls is one of those marriages of seeming opposites that works. What Bernal does by placing these people in another of his rich, boisterously populated collage films, is to show how every city (especially Makati) is, in a way, a community of the isolated. Bernal may even give us more of a sense of truth than the stories alone, because they recognize more of the absurd and terrible interconnections of life, the consequences that most of us choose to ignore. Part of the films' greatness, which is one of the triumphs of contemporary moviemaking, lies in the inclusiveness of its portrait, the way it gives such an omniscient sense of character, of milieu. And part also lies in Working Girls’ recognition that nothing in life is ever resolved, that there are no happy endings, but virtually no endings at all. Bernal likes the messiness and coincidence of real life, where you can do your best and some days it's just not good enough. Working Girls understands and knows because it is filmed from an all-seeing point of view. Its characters sometimes cross paths, but for the most part they don't know how their lives are changed by people they meet only glancingly. Some of these characters, would find the answers to their needs, yet these people have a certain nobility to them. They keep on trying and hope for better times. 

Sound Supervision: Vic Macamay

Musical Director: Willie Cruz

Production Designer: Benjie de Guzman

Film Editor: Ike Jarlego, Jr.

Director of Photography: Manolo R. Abaya, FSC

Screenplay: Amado L. Lacuesta, Jr.

Directed By: Ishmael Bernal

     Overused and much misused, the word provocative has become a double-edged sword, especially when swung in the direction of Filipino independent cinema. At its best, the genuinely provocative film, off the top of my head, shocks in order to expand our vision of the world it encompasses. At its most dispiriting, it's an exercise in cheap thrills, designed to goose a presumptively stuffy bourgeois audience while positioning a director as some sort of iconoclast and Jun Robles Lana has no such excuse. The characters in Your Mother's Son (The IdeaFirst Company, Octobertrain Films, Quantum Films, Cineko Productions, 2023), belong in their own isolated little world that is self-absorbed and irresponsible. Lana and co-screenwriter Elmer Gatchalian come to the conclusion that some people would prefer to spend their days with those who are much younger, abandoning their social responsibilities and families. This is a film that seems divorced from any moral sensibilities. Your Mother's Son needed serious judgment: someone to have a firmer opinion on these terribly unappealing characters. It lacks plausible psychology and context for the film’s characters and their love circle. The performances from some normally reliable talents do little to strengthen our sympathy and help us understand them. As Sarah, Sue Prado has the hint of a beautiful woman aging, unused to such desperation in her loneliness. She is truly enigmatic, delivering a surprisingly strong and powerful performance for a film and a screenplay this superficial. Elora Españo (Amy) can convey nuance and quiet intelligence even when seeming to do nothing in particular. Both Kokoy de Santos (Emman) and Miggy Jimenez (Oliver) are given terribly uninteresting and inexpressive roles, spending most of the film underserviced by flat dialogue. There’s no sign of coltishness in either De Santos' or Jimenez’s performances. These characters don’t inhabit the real world: they remain lodged in this seaside idyll from beginning to end and whenever an opportunity is presented for them to leave. Your Mother's Son is poorly paced and concludes with an ending that is frustratingly detached from comprehensible human behavior and personal responsibility. There's a germ of genuine transgression to be located in this three-way affair and it has to do with the overlap between maternal and carnal love. But it's less explored here than it is sidelined. 

     Your Mother's Son is incredibly hard to watch. It's a completely illusory and nonsensical film and is one that would benefit greatly had Lana not taken the material quite so earnestly. The film needed to play on the frivolous nature of the premise in order to work or alternatively go completely the opposite way. It’s a messed up situation and if handled with more conviction and devastation it could be really affecting, yet we don’t get a sense for the severity of the scenario nor the destructive implications. It lingers nonchalantly between the two notions making this entire situation seem almost normal. The movie tacks hard into self-serious waters, piling on the consequences. We don’t get into any of the characters’ heads either, though to be honest, there isn’t particularly much going on inside any of them. Lana manages the trick of making sex joyless. Like porn, he tops that by draining his film of variety and longing. Within that framework, Lana makes some serious missteps. He always had a fondness for these kind of highly symbolic, far-fetched stories, but he still feels the need to give his characters more mundane motivations, to make us like them. It’s an understandable miscalculation and let’s applaud these two insanely talented actresses for gamely lending real vulnerability to these broken creatures, but it’s a catastrophic one, because it threatens to bring Your Mother's Son into the real world, and that’s not a realm where this story can survive. This sort of thing threatens to make the movie about sex and as far as I can tell, that’s not what it's up to. There’s a potentially interesting attempt here to explore without judgment why older women might be drawn into relationships with much younger men. Physical pleasure, reassurance and unencumbered freedoms that often vanish over the course of conventional long-term unions. But the film sticks to the surfaces right up to the climactic exposure. That makes these characters not much more than irresponsible narcissists living in self-satisfied isolation. The movie wants it both ways. It asks not to be judged by standards of realism, but then tries to inject realism and naturalism into its absurdist narrative. One imagines what other directors who deal in similarly symbolic, hermetically sealed environments could have done with this material. Lana, for all his talent and ambition, doesn’t seem up to the task; in the end, Your Mother's Son doesn’t quite go far enough.

Sound Engineer: Allen Roy Santos

Music: Teresa Barrozo

Editor: Benjie Tolentino

Production Design: Roy Roger Requejo

Director of Photography: Moises Zee

Screenplay: Jun Robles Lana, Elmer Gatchalian

Directed By: Jun Robles Lana

     Perhaps the most interesting aspects of Signed: Lino Brocka involve his discussions about censorship and the Marcoses. If there’s a worthy criticism about Brocka, it’s that the documentary does not thoroughly investigate how he’s been perceived. It’s a fascinating career overview (backed by ample clips, of course), as he talks about his critical breakout with 1974's Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang, his commercial success and box office failures. Blackwood puts Brocka in front of the camera and allows him to talk frankly and in depth about his journey through the Philippine movie industry. He explains single shots that bring the viewer into the moment while revealing an ever-changing perspective. What makes Signed: Lino Brocka an exciting and instructive film in its own right is that its subject is able to analyze his films from an emotional remove. That’s not to say he isn’t proud of what he made or that he’s overly self-critical. But he’s very rational with regard to what they are and what they achieved. The interesting thing is that he has insights on how every creative decision was made. Of course, not every movie Brocka made was great, but we emerge with a profound understanding of a singularly talented, creative filmmaker who invested himself fully in everything he did and whose work merits a second look. It becomes clear that nothing in his cinema is left to chance. The film’s focus on the work of its subject and desire to learn more from it is what really makes it worth watching. Signed: Lino Brocka is an entertaining portrait of a filmmaker that changed a generation.

Produced and Directed By: Christian Blackwood

Cinematography: Christian Blackwood

Editor: Monika Abspacher

Music: Michael Riesman

Sound: John Murphy