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Alapaap
Additional Language: Ilocano
English Title: Clouds
Year of Release: 1984
Director: Tata Esteban
Screenwriter: Rei Nicandro
(From a story by Tata Esteban)
Producers: Aces Films International, Oro Vista Motion Pictures, Rare Breed Ltd.
Cast: William Martinez, Mark Gil, Michael de Mesa, Tanya Gomez, Isadora, Eva Rose Palma, Ed Villapol, Rosemarie Gil, Liza Lorena, Jabbar, Jose Cortez, Benny Resurreccion, Jerry O’Hara, Rez Cortez
After a present-day death certificate is filled out, we inexplicably flash forward to September 28, 1986, when Jake links up with the brothers Dave and Donald, to ask their help in completing a film that he needs to submit as his thesis project in an American university. The two suggest taking a trip to Baguio (bringing their girlfriends along), where they can search for material and possibly even shoot some footage there. After they persuade a reluctant old man to allow them to stay at his guesthouse, increasingly strange events begin to happen. When the brothers show Jake the shot they secretly filmed of him making out with a native lass outdoors, and realize that he had no one with him, they have no choice but to conclude that an otherworldly force is bent on messing up with their lives.
Anyone who can explain why 1984 was the most artistically productive year in Philippine film history might also have to account for why the critics of that time took it for granted. The yearend Metro Manila Film Festival, as an example, was so spoiled for great choices, dominated primarily by the films scripted by Ricky Lee for the Experimental Cinema of the Philippines, that it could afford to toss a few token awards to an exceptionally creative debut film and forget about it for good. Directed by the fairly obscure actor Steve Paolo (who was also producer and production designer) using his actual name, Alapaap took the ECP’s name literally, ensured audience patronage by banking on sex scenes and the upper-body female nudity then-exempted by censorship for depictions of indigenous practice, and scored largely on the basis of its skillful appropriation of giallo-horror principles. Its spectacle of unsurprisingly above-average performances aided significantly in overriding a few instances of anachronisms and illogical developments—with also a then-unremarked exceptional casting of the Eigenmann brothers (Michael de Mesa and Mark Gil) as well as topflight delivery by Tanya Gomez. As in countless other Philippine horror samples, the City of Pines embodies the collision between modernity and ancestral culture, but in harsher terms than usual. The ending is meant to provide some respite from the conflict, but the film is clever enough to take as much as it gives.
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Gayuma: Sana’y Mahalin Mo Rin Ako
Alternate Title: Gayuma
English Translation: Charm: I Hope You Love Me Too
Year of Release: 1995
Director: Tata Esteban
Screenwriter: Rei Nicandro
Producer: Falcon Films
Cast: Amanda Page, Julio Diaz, Maritoni Fernandez, Jay Manalo, Danny Ramos, Shirley Palma, Marissa Delgado, Lucita Soriano, Shola Luna, Connie Chua, Dennis Adobas, Archi Adamos, Boy Alano, Tata Esteban, Turko Cervantes, Gino Ilustre, Angel Baldomar, Allan Quimbo, Julian Alvaro, Bigtime Castillo, Bay Cristobal, Boy Davao, Ray Davao, Gel Dungca, Ihma Esturco, Al Eugenio, Bong Ferrer, Gil Gaganti, Saldy Golo, Berting Lago, Mariz Mauricio, Sonny Navarro, Tony Navarro, Nilo Odiaman, Doming Olivar, Tess Orias, Rudy Pontigon, Daisy Reyes, Cloyd Robinson, Dagul Salazar, Noel Sandoval, Edgar Santiago, Ina Suarez, Francisco Uno, Junior Uno
Lynn Blaclwell, a half-American Pinay in Subic, longs to meet with the father who abandoned her. She professes affection for her boyfriend Dondon but leaves for Manila to meet an American pen pal who promised to take her with him to the US, but the guy leaves because of some rowdy men. When Lynn arrives, they spike her drink and kidnap her to rape and then abandon her. Meanwhile the slum-dwelling Lydia, who lives with the good-for-nothing gambler Rubing, finds frustration after the herbalists she consults are unable to cure her infertility. She encounters the dazed and confused Lynn on a jeepney ride and takes her home to care for her. Just as King, the neighborhood toughie, has taken an interest in Lydia, Rubing finds Lynn attractive enough to use her wish to migrate to the US to hoodwink her.
Two reflexive turns mark Gayuma and remind us of Tata Esteban’s intensive film immersion, apparent since his first film, Alapaap (Clouds, 1984). One is at the beginning, when the scriptwriter directly addresses the camera to explain that despite the forthcoming presentation’s sensational content, it’s actually based on true stories. The second arrives when we think that the misfortune that’s about to befall Lynn, the naïve provincial, might be carried out by King, the same slum bully professing an interest in his neighbor Lydia; as it turns out, King’s an extra who plays hostage in a movie scene where he’s dismissed after his service is no longer needed, and Lydia eventually handles him in more or less the same way. Christian morality still overpowers Gayuma’s narrative framework, but then one doesn’t have to be reduced to the Manichaean treatment that typifies such an approach: the parable of Dives and Lazarus, for example, allows for multiple, even contradictory, readings, and we find in the two primary characters not just a gender reversal but also a constant uncertainty about who between them suffers in nobility and who gets punished for her privilege. Undeniably, as befits a feminist narrative, a transference from the more familially oriented Lydia to the perplexed and traumatized Lynn takes place, but then how did Lydia manage to handle her abusive and deceitful husband? This is where Gayuma plugs in with an entire generational pop-culture trend: all the best straight-male directors, from working in genres that probably wore them out from decades of insistent masculinism, turned pro-women and queer-friendly during this period. Lydia’s BFF was her unapologetically out trans neighbor, who teaches her to be more critical of the bull dispensed by both her hubby and the herbalists who claim to have the means of jump-starting her motherhood aspiration, with her “adoption” of Lynn compounding her husband’s betrayal. Esteban’s fascination with the tricks his characters play on one another and, consequently, on the audience, arguably peaks with Gayuma—helped in no small measure by its cinematographic properties. Sergio Lobo had been disparaged for neglecting his duties with Ishmael Bernal’s major multicharacter entries, but returns with a vengeance in Gayuma and sets down evidence of a prowess that could never be equalled by anyone, except perhaps by the late Conrado Baltazar. Overdue for rediscovery and deserving of accolades that went to far less deserving entries during its time.
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Á!
Counteractive
Kontrabida [Villain]
Directed by Adolfo Borinaga Alix Jr.
Written by Jerry B. Gracio
After completing work on Kontrabida, Nora Aunor was finally declared National Artist, minus the execrable intrusion of any political leader or showbiz rival (essential disclosure: in June 2014, The FilAm was the first publication to criticize the ill-advised decision by President Benigno Aquino III to drop her name from the list of submissions). What should have been happy news, however, turned out distressing for her followers: she endured a severe medical emergency, declared dead at one point but revived through the intervention of an understandably panicked health team.
Anita as a haughty society matron, in her opening dream sequence. [Screen cap from Kontrabida, courtesy of Magsine Tayo!]
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11011Kontrabida might therefore be the last opportunity to watch a consummate Aunor film, although the hesitation of casual viewers would be understandable. Its director’s track record has been spotty, and the Metro Manila Film Festival’s consistent rejection of its participation is reminiscent of its judgment on her own auteur project, Greatest Performance, in 1989. Yet what traces remain of GP suggest an ambitious and exemplarily performed work, one of the MMFF’s gravest missteps in a long list of embarrassments. Kontrabida’s an even more egregious instance of insider politicking and institutional negligence.
11011Any initial viewing will instantly distinguish the film as reminiscent of Aunor’s case history during her peak premillennial years, when filmmakers would be able to realize significant achievements by simply having her on board; her skills in streamlining, clarifying, and amplifying character attributes was (and remains) second to none, ascribable to her intensive experience in creative processes and immersion in her compatriots’ sociological concerns. Kontrabida has also turned out to be her first millennial project that references her stature as queer icon, resisting the typical indie practitioner’s tendency to recognize her considerable store of gifts by unnecessarily pedestalizing her.
Jaclyn Jose as Dolly, a devoted fan of Anita. [Screen cap from Kontrabida courtesy of Magsine Tayo!]
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11011The best way of extracting the film’s potential would be by focusing on the persona that she proffers, inasmuch as Aunor appears in every scene. Early in the plot, her Anita Rosales prepares to dispose of the bric-a-brac she accumulated as a movie supporting player, including her only acting trophy. Any devoted Philippine cinema observer would readily recognize that the object happens to be Anita Linda’s only Maria Clara award, the first institutional prize ever handed out for local film achievement. A fan of hers shows up to purchase it, and it turns out to be played by the recently departed Jaclyn Jose – who professes so much devotion that she decides to return the item to its owner.[1]
11011The parallelisms with film history are profound and moving, yet unobtrusive enough to remain hidden for those who prefer to ignore them. Aunor was the actor who set out to challenge Linda’s First Golden Age stature as the country’s greatest performer and succeeded due to her marshaling of her own privileges as the most successful star in Pinas cinema as well as the upgrade in resources and sensibility of the Second Golden Age; Jose meanwhile carved out her own niche in depicting characters ravaged beyond redemption by poverty and managed to snag the much-coveted Cannes Film Festival best actress prize in the process.
Anita comforts her intellectually challenged neighbor Jai after his father went berserk during his mother and her new partner’s wedding. [Screen cap from Kontrabida courtesy of Magsine Tayo!]
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11011Linda had been gone by the time Kontrabida was made (her final starring role was also in an Alix film), but neither Aunor nor Jose, just like Linda before them and unlike a long list of their contemporaneous performers, make an effort to recapture their appearance during their Golden Age glory years. The weight they put on, the wrinkles, lumps, and veins on their faces, their slower movements and weaker physical capacities – all affirm their lifetime aspiration to enable their audiences to identify with them. In this instance, they constitute a redefinition of glamour for those who care to ponder on these matters: that it might mean conforming to a near-unattainable youthful ideal for the vast majority, but it could also mean the fulfillment of long-cultivated potential offered for widespread and long-term public consumption: talent, to paraphrase Pauline Kael, will always be a surer guarantee of glamour.
11011Alix of course had collaborated long enough with Aunor to be able to provide unintrusive details that function like humor devices, and then some: Anita begins by slapping someone in her high-camp dream where she plays a society matron, but gets slapped symbolically by her working-class existence in a crisis-ridden administration; she may have retained ownership of her acting trophy, but we eventually get to see how Aunor herself regards these empty symbols of triumph;[2] she lives in a world where those who recognize her adulate her for her past attainments, but she pays the closest attention to people taken for granted by everyone else.
After helping her rehearse for her comeback role, Ramon asks Anita to dance with him. [Screen cap from Kontrabida courtesy of Magsine Tayo!]
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11011Toward a later part of the film, Alix introduces Bembol Roco, one of her few male contemporaries who has perfectly understood that one must complement Aunor in order to survive a scene with her, in the role of her infirm ex-husband Ramon. The exchanges of scripted lines between them play on their characters’ real-life circumstances and display the warmth and collegiality that their long-time immersion in Philippine film culture has enabled. Anita then forms a pistol with her fingers and aims it at Ramon, then reflexively remarks “bad acting” about herself. The gesture’s payoff is earth-shattering but doesn’t have to be spoiled in a review. Kontrabida nonetheless deserves to be watched for all the tremendous pleasure and pain that the full life of a genuine film artist has brought to the project.
Notes
First published November 18, 2024, as “Nora Returns Minus the Glamour of the Glory Years,” in The FilAm.
[1] Dolly claims that Anita turned her life around by inspiring her to avenge herself on her wrongdoers. In her real-life career, Jaclyn Jose became a much sought-after camp presence in TV drama by specializing in comically snobbish aristocrats, similar to the characters that Anita dreams that she portrays, but directly opposed to Nora Aunor’s actual movie persona.
11011Her first significant interview was titled “Walang Bold sa Langit [Bold Not Allowed in Heaven]” (1986), conducted by Ricky Lee, retitled “May Bold Ba sa Langit? [Is Bold Allowed in Heaven?]” and reprinted in his 2009 anthology Si Tatang at Mga Himala ng Ating Panahon: Koleksyon ng mga Akda or Old Man and the Miracles of Our Time: Collection of Writings, pp. 70-74). In it, Jose mentioned watching Ishmael Bernal’s Himala [Miracle] (1982) for her lesson in acting excellence and described how she wished she could perform on the same level that Nora Aunor had demonstrated, attaining maximal impact via the smallest of gestures. A final Noranian intertext occurs in Emmanuel Dela Cruz’s 2005 film Sarong Banggi [One Night], where Jose’s character, also named Jaclyn, professes fanaticism toward Aunor, her fellow Bicol-born native. (Thanks to Deo Antazo for this vital recollection.)
Nora Aunor on the set of Kontrabida, with Anita Linda’s memento. [Photo by Adolfo Borinaga Alix Jr.]
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