SARI-SARING SINENG PINOY

     Ivan Andrew Payawal's Table for Three (Vivamax, The IdeaFirst Company, 2024) follows successful couple Marlon (Topper Fabregas) and Paul (Arkin del Rosario) as they explore being a throuple with Jeremy (Jesse Guinto). There's little doubt that Table for Three bears few similarities to Payawal's Two and One (2022), as the film unfolds in a deliberate and surprisingly conventional manner that effectively prevents it from becoming anything more than a well-acted (and well-made) domestic drama. Payawal even seems to be going out of his way to prevent viewers from wholeheartedly embracing the spare narrative, as the director offers up a trio of underdeveloped protagonists that remain completely uninteresting virtually from start to finish. Not helping matters is Payawal's sporadic emphasis on oddball elements, as the film's tenuously authentic atmosphere is undoubtedly diminished significantly each and every time the filmmaker indulges his notorious sensibilities. Table for Three  feigns interest in its characters as three-dimensional beings layering them with dilemmas and hang-ups, but rarely gets deep enough under their skin to make them seem like more than devices in a socio-political thesis. That’s especially true of Jeremy, who receives the least attention and thus comes across as the most paper-thin of the film’s three protagonists and his featurelessness ultimately sabotages the increasingly tense threesome dynamic at play, since none of these people’s attractions to each other are ever fleshed-out or potently felt. 

     Simplistic as its core may be, though, Payawal manages the not-inconsiderable feat of habitually distracting attention away from his material’s underlying didacticism through aesthetic dexterity providing the material with far more urgency than does its let’s-all-get-together plotting. Give credit to Payawal for trying to dissect a relationship and then build it up again. But despite its fascinating moments, one can't help but be frustrated when at times it switches away to pretentiousness. All the aesthetic tangents the director throws at us play as just that, tangents. To what is actually a slightly enervated drama of not-so-complicated romantic geometry, the the film is frequently ravishing in its visual construction making the drama go down easy. For all its complicating intrusions, Table of Three can’t help but register as somewhat less than the sum of its disparate parts. As Payawal frames them threading the waves in symmetrical compositions, he captures all the mystery and romance of a new relationship that isn’t necessarily communicated in the film’s less stylized sequences. For a while, Payawal gets by on his talent for conjuring up interesting exchanges. But no matter how hard he tries to make his characters distinctive, no matter how much he attempts to flesh them out through elucidating their interests, the drama they enact ultimately feels flat, the hermetic actions of hermetic conceptions of character. In a few tender moments, Payawal conjures up the feeling of necessity, but for most of the rest, it’s just eye-filling, soul-starving emptiness that no amount of intermittent assaults on the sensorium can paper over.

Directed By: Ivan Andrew Payawal

Written By: Ash M. Malanum

Cinematographer: Juan Miguel Marasigan

Production Designer: Jaylo Conanan

Editor: Kristian Marc Palma

Music: Emerzon Texon

Sound Designer: Nicole Rosacay

     This beguiling romance offers a fresh take on a familiar premise. At its heart is a story about love, tolerance and honesty. For all its anodyne rom-com silliness, however, 4 Days (Phoenix Features, 2016) is also funny, sad and beautiful in equal measure. Mark's (Mikoy Morales) facial expression is most affecting. With a few well-placed glance, a furtive look at his college roommate Derek (Sebastian Castro), a pained expression, a brow sorrowfully furrowed, Morales adeptly manages to capture the anxiety of being gay with dexterity. He is this film’s emotional rock. Morales navigates excitement, happiness, sadness, guilt and anger equally well and Castro lends strong complementary performance. This movie’s storyline does come carefully encased in an unassumingly conservative plot superstructure, but what a smart, fun, engaging film. Director Adolfo Borinaga Alix Jr. (working from a sharp and funny screenplay he co-wrote with his lead actors) does a nimble job of placing us in Mark and Derek's shoes. The story’s lightness is, in a sense, the source of its charm. The issues that gay youths face are, in many respects, more interesting and the breakthroughs on that front continue apace. Alix brought an idyllic authenticity to 4 Days just like picking the right person in your love triangle or finding love before the big dance.Yes, the film does everything it can do to parboil the flavor, color, consistency and fabulousness out of its queer romance, until all that's left is the familiar beige, featureless pap of overcooked heterosexual rom-coms. But that's kind of the point. Why shouldn't queer kids get the chance to see generic, mass-produced versions of themselves onscreen, overcoming minor obstacles on their path to true love? They absolutely should and with 4 Days (and the films that follow) they will, but it's the quieter, deeper storyline that forms its true emotional center.

     The cast and filmmakers stir elements of secrets and lies for all they’re worth, prizing telling details and piercing observation over broad comedy. Relationships that in the film’s first moments seemed simple prove prickly and complex. 4 Days isn’t frank or revelatory in the vein of the best queer cinema. It avoids much talk of arousal and it delays its first same-sex kiss and then scores it to onlookers just in case viewers aren’t sure how to feel about it. This is crowd-pleasing filmmaking, so, of course, it’s in some ways behind the times. There may be little in this movie that you haven’t seen before, but the perspective through which you’re seeing it makes all the difference. The events aren't really surprising. Rather, the film focuses on the one thing it does differently, making the romantic quest at the center of the story gay rather than straight and it can't be denied that it does make the tired formula feel ever so slightly fresh for having done so. When the movie shifts into its inevitable third act, it takes a fresh turn which we obviously don't get from standard romance. The formula works regardless of the sexual orientation of the characters involved. 4 Days is a dubious step on the road to equality, proof that conventional romantic dramas are no longer limited to straight people. The polished soundtrack still allows for a procession of acutely observed details, from the hypersensitivity around how others discuss sexuality to the unspoken jealousy aimed at those able to conduct themselves with more surface-level comfort. 4 Days seems a bit too tame to be entirely plausible from start to finish, but it’s hard for find fault with any film that addresses a changing world with such compassion and decency. An unexpected delight in more ways than one.

Directed By: Adolfo Borinaga Alix Jr.

Sound: Jason Conanan

Music: Mikoy Morales

Production Design: Arthur Maningas

Cinematography: Albert Banzon

Screenplay: Adolfo Alix Jr., Mikoy Morales, Sebastian Castro

 

     Maligno (Rosas Productions, 1977) builds tension with masterful patience and detail, not because it relies entirely on the payoff of its devilish finale, but because Celso Ad. Castillo wants to submerge the viewer in paranoia. Through his meticulous study of characters, their naturalistic mannerisms and peculiarities, and the weight he applies to even immaterial trivialities, Castillo constructs a very real sense of horror. Through it, he raises an atmosphere of instability that counteracts his picture’s supernatural menace with a practical skepticism, almost in the same moment that he confirms our worst, most unimaginable fears. Not until the final act does the film reveal itself as a tale of supernatural terror. Though perhaps Maligno remains more alarming for its depiction of a housewife trying to regain agency over her pregnancy and herself. But before any talk of occult conspiracies, Castillo spends about an hour outlining his characters, their relationships, eccentricities, insecurities and desires. The film’s details consume us, such as how three-dimensional these characters feel. Paolo (Dante Rivero) tries to behave like an understanding husband sensitive to his wife’s needs, but his apologetic control of Angela (Susan Roces) is apparent, no matter how much he seems to be grappling with some inner guilt about his impulses. Elsewhere, Blanca (Celia Rodriguez) fusses over Paolo and Lucas Santander's (Eddie Garcia) friendship during lunch with Angela. The credit for some of these details belongs to the actors who bring their characters to life. Watch Blanca in her keen surveillance of Angela or the way she bounces with excitement. But Castillo also layers seemingly inconsequential conversations with curious facets that prove significant later. 

     Realistic mise-en-scène shrouds the elements of horror in a Celso Ad. Castillo film, so that which remains suspect also feels too real and inconsequential to possibly delve into horror territory. His scares arise not from supernatural origins, but from psychological possibility, the horrible things people will do if so compelled. Castillo specializes in obsession and madness, particularly those supplied within a limited space. The film’s dizzying, hallucinatory dream sequences continue to puzzle as Castillo constructed them so much like actual dreams, not typical soft-filtered movie dreams, but an overexposed nightmare of mish-mashed imagery. Voices seem to penetrate Angela’s consciousness, as if Castillo were showing us two truths at once. Images flow in and out of frame. Nothing makes logical sense, and yet it all congeals in an effortless sort of way. Hints to Angela's Catholic upbringing and religious images in her dreams warn of ingrained religious-based fears, countered by the delusional thought that something sinister plots against her. Castillo implants the notion that Angela has fallen prey to hysterics, so the viewer begins to doubt its misgivings about the suspicious behavior of those around her. Roces is phenomenal, tapping into maternal fears and sense of distrust with full vulnerability. She carries this film on her shoulders, even as everyone tries to push her further down, Angela remains headstrong and resilient. Rodriguez’s scene stealing performance is at once comical and foreboding. Rivero’s acting opportunities open up almost immediately. Paolo is a likeable person, you can’t help but emphatize with. Garcia is impeccably cast as Lucas. His performance is one of the great marriages of character and actor in the genre. Castillo has taken a most difficult situation and made it believable, right up to the end. Angela is forced into the most bizarre suspicions about her husband and we share them and believe them. Because Castillo exercises his craft so well, we follow him right up to the end and stand there.

Production Designer: Peter Perlas

Sound Supervision: Rudy Baldovino

Film Editor: Augusto Salvador

Director of Photography: Loreto U. Isleta F.S.C.

Screenplay: Celso Ad. Castillo, Dominador B. Mirasol

Music By: Ernani Cuenco

Directed By: Celso Ad. Castillo

     The Hearing (Cinemalaya, Pelikulaw, Center Stage Productions, 2024) evokes the experience of a molested child in all its furtive anxiety and shame. Sensitively directed by Lawrence Fajardo and cogently co-written with Honeylyn Joy Alipio, The Hearing goes after deeper, harsher truths. For Lucas (Enzo Osorio), reliving the experience at the trial proves fatal. Madonna (Mylene Dizon) realizes how powerless she is in helping her son and we are forced to look at Fr. Mejor (Rom Factolerin) in a different light. Earlier, we viewed him through Lucas' eyes, now we have the shock of seeing him as he sees himself. The horror is filmed with admirable restraint, with Fajardo opting for a less-is-more approach that only reinforces the tragedy of the events depicted. Lucas’ youthfulness makes him an object of our compassion, particularly as he struggles to free himself and stand up to the predatory Fr. Mejor. Audience identification with Lucas is much stronger in this part of the film. Fr. Mejor is certainly the center of the film’s controversy and also the insightful and problematic depiction of a child molester. Throughout The Hearing, we are kept thoroughly off balance, not only by Fajardo’s style which tends to throw us into scenes with few establishing shots, but also by the impossibility of identifying with any of the characters. The establishing shot helps the audience to define and locate themselves within the logic of the film’s diegetic space. The lack of establishing shots keeps the viewer on edge and adds to the subtle discomfort provoked by the film. The Hearing has the dramatic pull of a muckraking thriller revealing something both sinister and ineffable. Although Fr. Mejor is brought to trial, he is neither healed nor forgiven. Lucas manages to testify, but we are left with no sense of either triumph or revenge. 

     The Hearing does not offer us any comfortable assurances about the future and by avoiding closure, it even implies that this kind of crime does not go away. In a film which consistently violates convention, this may be the most difficult truth of all to face. The Hearing is a provocative film inhabited by characters grappling with moral dilemmas in very recognizable and realistic ways. With its highly impassioned tale, The Hearing transcends the earnest weight of its subject through the sympathy it displays for the predicament of its characters. Utilizing his cast of actors, Fajardo resists going too far into their personal lives and never diverts away from the central story. The actors’ unique idiosyncrasies add small yet significant quirks that create the illusion of character depth. Not much about their lives appears onscreen, but the excellent performances make it seem like we’re seeing more than we are. Elsewhere, in dueling lawyer roles, Atty. Francisco Salvador plays Fr. Mejor’s defender while Joel Torre is Prosecutor Alejandro Mariano, who devotes his life to doing the right thing, a particularly difficult quality to come by in this setting. Maya (Ina Feleo), the sign language interpreter is torn by conflicting expectations and contradictory feelings. Fortunately, what remains important is telling the truth in the here and now. Fajardo's sobering drama affects on multiple levels, from personal to spiritual. The Hearing suggests that the cloistered atmosphere of celibacy, guilt and discipline has helped foster a pattern of depravity is not likely to go over well in many quarters. All the more reason why this film should be seen. In The Hearing, artistry and conscience are emanations of the same cleansing, darkly truthful spirit. 

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

 

     Decrying film clichés is easy. Replacing them with something worthwhile is much harder. Tropes become tropes because they’re often the straight-line, natural-feeling answer to common story problems. How to make a character relatable, an arc satisfying or a story tidy. While storytellers who try to dodge well-worn, familiar narratives deserve recognition for trying harder, the road to hell isn’t the only one paved with good intentions. Films like When I Met You in Tokyo (JG Productions Inc., 2023) show that avoiding safe, lazy choices isn’t enough to make a strong film. It’s necessary to make decisive and meaningful choices as well. Filmmakers Conrado Peru, Rommel Penesa and writer Suzette Doctolero have their hearts in the right place. They’ve created a film about senior citizens that acknowledges them as people, not pathos machines or wisdom dispensers. They focus on female friendships without making them catty or fickle. They avoid cheap melodrama, big life lessons and predictability. But while they’re steering clear of so many pitfalls, they don’t give the impression that they’re steering in any specific direction. The film is a parade of barely connected events, presided over by a barely connected protagonist. Even among a great ensemble of actors, Christopher de Leon stands out. Joey's no-fuss amusement and gentlemanly version of macho come closest to making the film feel distinctive, instead of droning. He sells the romance well. It’s easy to see why Azon (Vilma Santos) allows him into her life, given how he rolls up with a compliment and an insouciant smirk. The film is at its best when exploring Azon and Joey’s comfortable rapprochement, which comes with more affable curiosity than longing or passion. It’s a film that never exits its holding pattern, no matter what else happens. 

     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