Canon Decampment: Jun Robles Lana

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Die Beautiful

Additional Languages: English, “Swardspeak” [Philippine gay lingo]
Year of Release: 2016
Director: Jun Robles Lana
Screenwriter: Rody Vera
(From a story by Jun Robles Lana, with Fudge Silva as consultant)
Producers: The IdeaFirst Company & Octobertrain Films

Cast: Paolo Ballesteros, Christian Bables, Joel Torre, Gladys Reyes, Adrian Alandy, Albie Casiño, Inah de Belen, IC Mendoza, Cedrick Juan, Lou Veloso, Mimi Juareza, Iza Calzado, Eugene Domingo, Jade Lopez, Kokoy de Santos, Juris Ocampo, Rica Paras, Kyle Gabrielle, Adrianna So, Lui Manansala, Sue Prado, Mel Martinez, Bekimon, Patricia Ismael, Lito “Shalala” Reyes, Karen delos Reyes, Jace Flores, Erlinda Villalobos, Star Orjaliza, Lao Rodriguez, Giovanni Baldisseri, Steeve Fernandez, Khalid Ruiz, Sunshine Teodoro, Joy Desales, Perry Escaño, Ernie Enriquez, Bing Yumang, Laurence Mossman, Kenshee Montefalcon, Christine Joy de Guzman, Jordhen Suan, Faye Alhambra

Upon fulfilling her lifelong dream of winning a televised gay beauty contest, Trisha literally drops dead. Her best friend Barbs strives to fulfill her final wish, which is to be dressed and made up as a famous celebrity for each day of her week-long wake. Each costume change occasions a recollection by the people in her life, of Trisha’s struggle as a destitute transgender woman, banished from home by her homophobic father and abused (though occasionally also loved) by the straight men she falls for—though she nevertheless remains focused on the goal, difficult for someone in her station, of being recognized and celebrated as someone with beauty, wit, and chutzpah.

Most pop-culture experts might wonder about the advisability of presenting a trans person’s narrative as an epic tale, considering its intensely private dimensions and its psychoanalytic conflicts. Like its central character, Die Beautiful might come across as too loud, strong, insistent, confusing even; but like the Entwicklungsroman, or development narrative, that it actually is, it will be capable of fully rewarding those who may have resisted it initially but return to it after a while, preferably with some intervening maturity. Jun Robles Lana’s careful (sometimes overcareful) cultivation of his handling of queer material over a long period of time has resulted, with this film, in the fulfillment of the promise that the always well-patronized outings of our comedy stars, from Dolphy onward, kept pursuing: a life in full, from an always-queer awakening, through adversity in the pursuit of happiness and pleasure, to a too-early though fittingly fabulous ending (though sometimes with ill-advised—because unnatural, unlikely, and moralistic—conversion to the straight option). A structural marvel, the Die Beautiful screenplay enlightens the audience just enough to be able to “get” Trisha’s emotional placement through the various stages in her life, with the prospect of further, often painful but always well-earned insight serving as narrative cliffhanger. Paolo Ballesteros and Christian Bables, the actors who appear in nearly all the major scenes, provide the unexpected bonus of fomenting an interactive chemistry, overflowing with confidence, humor, and humanity, that effortlessly diffuses through the rest of the cast. It may sound ironic, but Trisha’s truly beautiful death betokens a life well-lived in the only way a genuinely heroic citizen could make it.

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Canon Decampment: Tata Esteban

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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; this must also be the only canonizable entry with an animal in the cast list. 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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Canon Decampment: Jon Red

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Still Lives

Year of Release: 1999
Director & Screenwriter: Jon Red
Producers: Pelipula Film Productions & Blue Cord

Cast: Joel Torre, Nonie Buencamino, Ray Ventura, Ynez Veneracion, Alan Paule, Caridad Sanchez, Archi Adamos, Soliman Cruz, Mel Martinez, Raymond Keannu, Mon Confiado, Richard Quan, Nathan Forrest, Randy Punsal, Benjie Felipe, Leon Miguel, Jun Ureta, Ian Victoriano, Raul Morit, Michael Angelo Dagñalan, Ruben Lee, Bombi Plata, Roberto Pangan, Larry Manda, Bong Rosario, Jason Red, Michael Red

Badong, a neighborhood drug dealer, seeks to maintain his dominance via the standard carrot-and-stick approach. He exudes friendly warmth toward his most productive earners, but metes lethal punishment when his clients displease him. He warns Enteng, his clean-cut personal assistant, that he cannot bow out of the business mainly because of the trouble caused by Paul, his thieving friend. An associate, Nardo, wishes to propose a money-making scheme although he also owes Badong for past unpaid transactions. Badong proceeds confidently, having paid off influential officials, but fails to contend with the reality that government authority never really operates as a monolithic entity.

Acknowledged as the work that initiated the independent-digital trend in the Philippines, Still Lives has managed to live up to its promise, despite a narrative resolution whose twist may have seemed too clever by half. Its longer-lasting feat is enabled by strategies that several generations of successors tended to take for granted from the get-go, thus resulting in more failures than necessary: an intimate familiarity with the culture that it engages with, and a commitment by its creative forces to serve the best interests of said social context, including a willingness to suspend judgment in order to more accurately depict its most difficult-to-access aspects. The facts that digital technology itself still had to evolve more fully and that the team could have benefited from a budget several times larger than what the presentation languished on: these become moot points when set against the onslaught of an inspired cast and offbeat elements introduced ostensibly to prop up a controlling gimmick, but ultimately implemented in order to augment the film’s entertainment value. When Philippine historical incidents began to mirror the film’s concerns, that should have served as proof that Still Lives was aiming at much more than purveying transient amusement.

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Canon Decampment: Bobby A. Suarez

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They Call Her … Cleopatra Wong

Alternate Titles: Cleopatra Wong; Female Big Boss
Language: English
Year of Release: 1978
Director: Bobby A. Suarez [as George Richardson]
Screenwriter: Romeo N. Galang
(From a story by Bobby A. Suarez)
Producer: BAS Film Productions

Cast: Marrie Lee, George Estregan, Dante Varona, Johnny Wilson, Kerry Chandler, Franco Guerrero, Alex Pecate, Philip Gamboa, Danny Rojo, Bobby Greenwood, Jesse Lee, Joaquin Fajardo, Victor Romero, Joe Cunanan, Steve Havarro, Avel Morado, Romy Misa, Bernie Bernardo, Joe Canlas, Tony Castro, Mark Sherak, Clem Persons, Paul Mejares, Robert Mendez, Buddy Philipps, Don Gordon Bell, Robert Mallet, Skip Kriegel, Mike Youngblood, Bill James, John Stewart, Thunderboys Stuntmen, PIS Stuntmen

Instructed by Manila Interpol, Cleo hies off to Singapore to investigate the proliferation of fake currencies across the major ASEAN countries; she passes herself off as a counterfeiter so she could be picked up by a middleman. After subduing him and his goons, she’s then assigned to Hong Kong, to track the arrival of fake money in jars of strawberry jam. This leads her and her Interpol detectives to a convent in Baguio, where they attempt to uncover the mystery of why a religious order would engage in a global criminal operation.

Long appreciated more outside than within his home country, Bobby A. Suarez turned out to be just the right candidate to export for overseas film production. An ardent B-movie aficionado, familiar with the latest contrivances that popular entertainment had on offer, he lucked out with an assignment that enabled him, though on an apparently tight budget, to shoot in three countries with a large cast. The resulting poverty-row epic featured some of the wildest flights of imagination ever witnessed in a Filipino-directed action film, complemented by the wit and charm of Singaporean actress Marrie Lee, who was sharp enough to know that the entire enterprise shouldn’t be taken too seriously, but provides just the right amount of nimble-footed intensity to be able to foreground the work’s campy elements. Subsequent Suarez projects affirmed his belief in the transnational crime-control function of Interpol, but Cleopatra Wong marks the point right before his professional competence and influential outreach overpowered the several mésalliances that managed to proliferate in the present narrative.

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Red Roses for a Call Girl

Alternate Titles: The True Confession of Diana; Rose Tattoo
Language: English
Year of Release: 1988
Director & Screenwriter: Bobby A. Suarez
Producer: BAS Film Productions

Cast: Maria Isabel Lopez, Robert Marius, Werner Pochat, Julia Kent, Manfred Seipold, Amanda Amores, Pia Moran, Arnold Mendoza, Vangie Labalan

In Germany, a streetwalker named Marian gets abducted because she hasn’t been able to repay the money she owes her pimp, Ringo. The same woman, who now calls herself Barbara, reappears at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport and makes the acquaintance of Klaus Timberg, who arrives because his profligate son, Peter, is given over to drag racing and nightlife. Klaus secretly hires a local sex worker, Diana, to induce his son to fall in love. As it turns out, Diana’s procurer is Ringo, who relocated to evade criminal prosecution in Germany. When Barbara, via Klaus, learns about this, she attempts to seek vengeance; Klaus’s predicament gets even more complicated when Peter discovers that Diana is really a sex professional.

The first notable element in Red Roses for a Call Girl is how it departs from the usual war-set or futuristic action (and even horror) material that foreign coproductions insisted on when they selected the Philippines as location for their film investment, in the wake of the initial success of the Marcos-era Manila International Film Festival. Opting for a loose reworking of La Dame aux Camélias by Alexandre Dumas fils, Bobby A. Suarez instead devised a low-budget drama that nevertheless expands on the original’s themes of exploitation, familial bonds, and cross-cultural romance. The far-from-ideal production values and performances (excepting the native talents, unsurprisingly) accrue their own level of charm, the way that Third World ventures occasionally succeed in doing, in contrast with the Hollywoodish aspirations of the typical local productions of the period.

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First Blush

Unang Tikim [First Taste]
Directed by Roman Perez Jr.
Written by Mariane Maddawat

Launched during the start of the current decade, the Vivamax arm of Viva Films swiftly dominated the subscription streaming services of Philippine cinema and never let up since. The answer will be obvious to anyone who checks out Netflix and several other so-called over-the-top (meaning bypassing middle agencies) services: specialized products, less costliness for the consumer, absence of censorship. It also doesn’t take a lot of figuring out to determine what material the service focuses on, which is what the majority of homesick overseas kabayans demand – sex, as much as the average film presentation can contain without devolving into gonzo pornography, softcore style.

11011Philippine-based recognition mechanisms still have to give Vivamax its due,[1] but an American film festival, the FACINE International, already gave its grand prize last year to Lawrence Fajardo’s Erotica Manila: Foursome, a concatenation of TV-style shorts. Its gold winner for short film was a hard-hitting satire titled “How to Make an Effective Campaign Ad,” directed by Roman Perez Jr., who also took charge of the first theatrically released Vivamax project, titled Unang Tikim (literally First Taste, officially translated as First Time).

The first couple, Yuna and Becca. [Unang Tikim, Pelikula Indiopendent & Viva Films; screen cap by author]

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11011So far the film has attained the stature of moderate box-office performer, running into its second week in selected venues – certainly a far more preferable fate than the usual theatrical flop that characterizes even major releases nowadays. More surprising is the type of theme tackled by Unang Tikim: sex, as expected of a Vivamax production, but with the primary relationship transpiring between two women. To be sure, positively depicted lesbian narratives are not new to Philippine cinema, although they occur with far less frequency than gay-male stories. Marilou Diaz-Abaya, the first woman-filmmaker National Artist, arguably started the trend in 1986 with Sensual, also a “bold” (or sex-themed) venture like Unang Tikim.

11011The primary points to make regarding other early attempts at recuperating same-sex love stories between women is that first, they were mostly featured as subplots in straight-centered narratives; and second, they had to contend with the usual homophobic demonization of gay women in local releases. (I can only remember one other premillennial release, Mel Chionglo’s I Want to Live from 1990, as another woman-positive presentation; an earlier “event” movie, Danny L. Zialcita’s T-bird at Ako [Lesbian and Me] from 1982, resorted to visiting violence on its lesbian character, although it nevertheless features a sharply observed turn from another National Artist, Nora Aunor.)

The rival couple, Yuna and Nicco. [Unang Tikim, Pelikula Indiopendent & Viva Films; screen cap by author]

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11011The digitalization of film production during the millennial era brought with it a number of well-realized women’s love stories, most of it from independent producers, with Sigrid Andrea Bernardo’s 2013 Ang Huling Cha-Cha ni Anita (Anita’s Last Cha-Cha) standing out for being a coming-of-age tale, the distaff counterpart of Aureus Solito’s Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros (The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros) from 2005. In a remarkable category all its own is Joel Lamangan’s Sabel, a 2004 film based on the seemingly incredible though real life-based odyssey of a woman who started out as an easy-going teenager, entered the nunnery after giving birth, married the prisoner who raped her, then emerged after a long disappearance as a rebel warrior committed to a female spouse. (Sabel and I Want to Live were both scripted by yet another recent National Artist, Ricky Lee.)

11011Unang Tikim constitutes a throwback to the earlier sexualized treatments of lesbian film narratives, with one character’s bisexuality providing the crisis in the plot. It also desists from dealing primarily with “developments” in which one or the other character suffers physical homophobic retaliation – possibly a lack when we inspect actual lesbian stories, but strangely affecting in this case because of the respite it provides from the usual judgmental approach. The fact that Perez, in less than a decade of practice, has overseen well over a dozen film projects, alongside Vivamax’s determination to mount a widescreen-worthy attraction, has resulted in a work of ineffable sensuality and beauty.

Held by Nicco, Yuna finds support from Becca. [Unang Tikim, Pelikula Indiopendent & Viva Films; screen cap by author]

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11011What must have added to non-Vivamax viewers’ fascination is the fact that an impressive stable of talents has been residing in the studio – most of them necessarily excluded from mainstream TV-centered programs because of their readiness to bare flesh and engage in activities that may be considered less-than-wholesome, to put it mildly. The film embraces the central female couple’s class difference and even occasional bouts of rage alongside their expressions of passion, but always with a tenderness in its approach to their pain; when such respect for the humanity of Others is extended to the male interloper in their story, that kind of treatment makes total sense in the course of the unfolding of their difficulties.

11011The only complaint one might raise about Unang Tikim is how the measure of its throwback is too far off in the past,[2] so that the complications provided by more recent lesbian film romances seem to be way in advance of the characters’ fates. As if to dig in further, it provides a closure that nearly elevates its realistic material to the realm of the fantastic. But in terms of a narrative tradition that cannot boast of having enough happy endings, what the film purveys deserves to be regarded as an intervention worth maintaining.

Notes

First published August 23, 2024, as “A Lesbian-Positive Film” in The FilAm.

[1] On August 18, 2024, after I had drafted and submitted this review to The FilAm for publication, the Young Critics Circle announced that they were nominating Lawrence Fajardo’s Erotica Manila: Foursome, the same aforementioned FACINE gold prizewinner, for their Film Desk’s annual competition in all their available categories except first film. One of the few instances where I was glad to be proved wrong by my homegrown colleagues.

[2] Upon the filmmaker’s recommendation, I watched a previous film he made, titled Sol Searching (2018), and was appalled at the critical negligence it suffered, despite its clear superiority to nearly all the other titles released during the same period. In a social-network post, I speculated that this may also have been due to the work’s throwback properties, reminiscent of unpolished celluloid material as well as the “developmentalist” media policies of the early martial-law period during the presidency of Ferdinand Marcos Sr.

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Canon Decampment: Abbo Q. dela Cruz

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Hubad na Pangarap

English Translation: Naked Ambition
Year of Release: 1987
Director: Abbo Q. dela Cruz
Screenwriter: Armando Lao
Producer: Golden Pearl Production

Cast: Michael de Mesa, Julio Diaz, Anna Marie Gutierrez, Lola, Vangie Labalan, Archi Adamos, Dante Castro, Chris Daluz, Tony Angeles, Tony Martinez, Stella Strada II, Jesse dela Paz, Lina Anota, Dick Morados

Miguel arrives at his rural rest house with several of his swinger friends, including a good-time girl with whom he hooks up. When his volatile girlfriend Cindy arrives, she throws a fit and drives all the visitors away, allowing Miguel to appease her by making out with her. All by themselves, they turn their attention to the place’s caretakers, Nelia and Ador, a poor but attractive couple engaged to each other. Miguel and Ador are childhood chums, but Miguel’s interest in Nelia starts to strain their friendship. Cindy’s exploitative regard toward Ador meanwhile leads to a bloody resolution in which the police are forced to intervene.

Abbo Q. dela Cruz’s debut film, Misteryo sa Tuwa (Joyful Mystery, 1984), was a film maudit that will always be worth at least one viewing, but that will probably be defensible as strictly a late-era Cold War masterpiece—patriarchal, myopic, and desperate. It was so overblown that it came close to shutting down the film production division of the Experimental Cinema of the Philippines, which nevertheless came up with one last debut piece, Pio de Castro III’s Soltero (Bachelor, 1984), a film that replicated its shortcomings, albeit on a decidedly more intimate scale. Dela Cruz had better timing with his sophomore project, written by one of the winners of the next batch’s scriptwriting contest (which were never produced because of the preceding year’s follies). The Misteryo sa Tuwa connection provides the first step in comprehending the offbeat properties of Hubad na Pangarap: its misanthropy is unmistakeable, but this time more carefully skewed against its privileged characters, so that its ineluctable misogyny is favorably contrasted with its masculine characters’ meanness or feeble-mindedness. The libertarian spell occasioned by ECP-screened entries also fostered the busting of the final Catholic taboo against displaying the male form, so Hubad na Pangarap enables a more-than-game Julio Diaz to cocktease not just his onscreen female master but an unsuspecting general audience as well. More productively, the film can be regarded as the middle entry in a trilogy scripted by Armando Lao, bookended by William Pascual’s Takaw Tukso (Constant Craving, 1986) and Chito S. Roño’s Itanong Mo sa Buwan (Moon Child, 1987), depicting increasing narrative complexity where working-class masculinities are confronted with and confounded by the well-laid schemes of the femme fatale.

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Canon Decampment: Emmanuel Dela Cruz

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Sarong Banggi

English Title: One Night
Additional Language: Bikol
Year of Release: 2005
Director & Screenwriter: Emmanuel Dela Cruz
Producers: Cinemalaya Foundation, UFO Pictures, Cutting Edge Productions

Cast: Jaclyn Jose, Angelo Ilagan, Greg Rodriguez III, Alchris Galura, Miguel Iñigo Guño, Jam Rodriguez, Miguel V. Fabie III, Tanya Guerrero, Ronald Diama, Ester Reyes, Josephine M. Abelgas, Victor Cusi, Roger Macusi, Cesar P. dela Cruz, Jean dela Cruz, Mica Torre, C.J. dela Cruz, Rose Beltran, Monster Jimenez, Mario Cornejo, Josel Garlitos, Marlon Despues, Jing Villaruel, Ariel Carullo, Lorena Landicho, Lilia Villena

On the eve of his birthday, Nyoy is brought by his friends to the vicinity of Manila’s red-light district. They made an arrangement with Jaclyn so that Nyoy can have his first carnal experience. When they see her from a distance, they’re realize that she’s older than she claims to be so they decide to ignore her and proceed to a bar where they pick up a younger girl to pair with Nyoy. The girl however prefers a more exciting partner, so she allows herself to be picked up by another man in a convenience store. When Nyoy realizes he’s been abandoned by everyone, he returns to the open-air restaurant where Jaclyn sits by herself and invites him to join her.

Essentially a two-hander once Nyoy and (the reflexively named) Jaclyn start their interaction, Sarong Banggi attains a rare look at awkward intimacy that evolves into a harsh, deromanticized glimpse of the inner life of a fallen woman. Key to its achievement is Jaclyn Jose’s ruthless attack, allowing the once-hopeful but now regret-ridden character to take over without any hint of the performer perfecting her craft—which paradoxically makes perfection possible. By underlining some of her lines with contrapuntal behavior, she enables the narrative to reach places without requiring expository explanation. A plot twist that would have defeated lesser artists becomes a marvel of multistratified delivery: does she cry from disappointment, joy, horror, or self-pity? The composure that she forces herself to assume afterward similarly raises questions that she wisely avoids opting to answer. Aware of how exceptional this approach to character is in local cinema, Emmanuel Dela Cruz requires Angelo Ilagan, Jose’s scene partner, to maintain sympathetic naïveté throughout, while packaging the presentation in expressionist flourishes that serve to contrast with the depths of the abyss that Jose fearlessly plunges into.

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Canon Decampment: Roman Perez Jr.

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Sol Searching

Year of Release: 2018
Director: Roman Perez Jr.
Screenwriters: Roman Perez Jr. & Norman Boquiren
Producer: Universal Harvester

Cast: Pokwang, Joey Marquez, Gilleth Sandico, JM Salvado, Conrado, Raffy Tejada, Raul Morit, LotLot Bustamante, Mayen Estañero, Troy Aquino, Francis Magundayao, Jelson Bay, Chokoleit, Lee O’Brian, Paulo Rodriguez, Sue Prado, Hector Macaso, Chad Kinis, DJ Maki Rena, DonJake Consuega, Vic Romano, Sky Labastilla

Elementary school teacher Sol collapses after swilling liquor on the job and stressing herself with the students’ usual infractions, but fails to recover. Her colleague and best friend Lorelai makes it her mission to ensure that Sol gets an extended wake, where her long-missing husband is expected to show up, followed by a decent burial. Unfortunately Sol is a non-entity in their small town, her family property grabbed by influential claimants, whom she in turn antagonized by agitating for farmers’ welfare. Initially only Bugoy, the student whom she saved from parental abuse, assists Lorelai, but eventually the other players in the school and town hall come around to help solve Lorelai’s predicament while ensuring that their personal agendas can also be pursued.

An entry that’s guaranteed to surprise close observers of contemporary Philippine cinema, since it left no traces behind save for a popularity prize at a now-defunct film festival and the usual positive notices automatically bestowed on anything that spells “indie production.” One possible clue as to the eventual critical dereliction visited on it lies in its throwback properties: its crude surface is reminiscent of celluloid-era hack work, while its thematic preoccupation with localized developmental issues creates disturbing associations with early martial-law media policy during the regime of the elder Ferdinand Marcos. Yet the achievement of Sol Searching lies in the way in which it subverts developmentalist requisites while deploying stouthearted wit and humor, in delineating a narrative that would be recognized as tragic in any context. The creative tension generated by the material encourages broad delivery from a cast that, large as it already is, increasingly proliferates toward the end; yet these risk-taking touches are substantiated by further forays into rewarding twists and revelations. A forward-looking throwback then, as good as it’s possible to get.

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Afflictions

The Hearing
Directed by Lawrence Fajardo
Written by Honelyn Joy Alipio

The twentieth edition of the Cinemalaya Independent Film Festival actually featured a number of entries that betokened its coming of age, inevitably disappointing certain sectors who would have preferred more of their type of cinema than see other samples being given equal time. One could construct a formal spectrum ranging from documentary to mainstream-starred feature and find various netizen voices clamoring for each one while deriding all the rest as unworthy of inclusion.

11011This may actually be a positive indicator of the event’s inclusivity (or its cynicism, if one were to adopt a more negative stance). Each of the entries was marked by its configuration of what “independence” meant for its own specific application, with the real-world intimidation of an entry that had to be consequently pulled from exhibition effectively rupturing the limits of this mode of practice: Lost Sabungeros, a documentary on 36 missing cockfighting enthusiasts, was announced as cancelled without any definite reason, fueling speculation regarding the intervention of prominent business and/or political figures implicated in the report’s findings.

11011Having no direct access to any screening, I can only provide cursory notes on critical responses to some of the entries as well as provisional commentary on one text made available by its production group. Advocates for reality-based film production have glommed onto Alipato at Muog (Ember and Fortress), directed by JL Burgos, about the well-known abduction and disappearance of his brother Jonas in 2007. Hysterical responses have also been expressed regarding Kip Oebanda’s Balota (Ballot), on the adversity endured by a public-school teacher tasked with delivering election results, played by deglamorized TV and movie star Marian Rivera (“the masses are stupid … putangina” went one contradiction-laden writeup). Several other commentators who foregrounded their ideal of neorealist-inspired indie practice (i.e., no professional performers, narrative drawn from real life, advancing a social problem that proper legislation could solve, if only) endorsed Richard Jeroui Salvadico and Arlie Sweet Sumagaysay’s Tumandok, on a Visayan Ati community’s struggle to raise funds to legalize their land claims.

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Lucas stares accusingly at Father Mejor, with the other townspeople unaware of the tension. [The Hearing, Cinemalaya, Pelikulaw, & Center Stage Productions, screen cap by the author]

11011As it turned out, The Hearing, the only entry to which I was granted access, embodied some of the most problematic responses in the commentaries of festival observers. No one denied the timeliness and urgency of its message, yet even its most enthusiastic responders couldn’t get over the fact that it wasn’t as polished as a feature film ought to be.[1] Its exceptional condition reminded me of an entry during the 2008 edition, Ellen Ongkeko-Marfil’s Boses (Voices), which was the festival’s only advocacy film – and the only movie excluded that year from a festival prize. That period of over a decade and a half in the past was certainly more saturated in indie idealism, with a self-declared film authority dominating the since-suspended Cinemalaya Film Congress in order to ensure that any hint of mainstream accommodation be exposed, denounced, and sidelined.

11011The Hearing will certainly bear close scrutiny as a bellwether of how far attitudes have shifted, if they ever did at all. So far, film analysts still feel stumped by their standard academic preparation in evaluating a work according to its several elements – a vexatious paradox, to say the least, since all those elements had already been brought together in order to arrive at a finalized work. The key to approaching such a film is in recognizing how its function as an advocacy piece aligns it more closely with the documentary than with feature-filmmaking tradition. As such, any viewing pleasure it provides will only happen to be coincidental.

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Asked to demonstrate how the violation occurred, Lucas relives his trauma all over again. [The Hearing, Cinemalaya, Pelikulaw, & Center Stage Productions, screen cap by the author]

11011The mise-en-scène immediately makes this purpose apparent. In keeping with its reduction in resources, the film’s characters are situated front and center, with the camera functioning as conversation partner. The strategy motivates the verbal exchanges, as it would in a regular feature film; but since the main character is speech-and-hearing impaired, his point-of-view shots are rendered with severely muted sounds, wherein his companions take time to use gestures or request sign-language users to convey their statements to him. The fact that the film refuses to violate his infirmity by, in effect, jump-cutting to the verbal articulations of his companions demonstrates how this type of advocacy filmmaking upholds the documentary project in accepting what historical reality has provided. We (as audiences) will just have to find our filmic pleasures in other ways.

11011The film also acknowledges the narrative’s real-life origin in skipping over the character’s judicial triumph – a gift of a grand jump-cut if there ever was one. We witness the siblings attempting to amuse themselves, and their parents taking in their children’s happiness while demonstrating some anxiety over a future in which they had isolated themselves from the largesse provided by clerical privilege; devastation eventually arrives in the form of statistical information flashed right before the closing credits. The Hearing offers no easy way out for its audience, inasmuch as its own characters had none of their own either. What it provides in exchange is the close, admittedly uncomfortable, association with the kind of person we would normally take pains to avoid if we could. The few sad moments it extracts ought to count as fair exchange.

Note

First published August 12, 2024, as “An Unpolished Film with a Timely Social Justice Message” in The FilAm.

[1] In February 2025, Lawrence Fajardo completed a tuned-up version of the film, effectively reducing its running time by about ten minutes. This may be considered the equivalent of a (so far unannounced) director’s cut. See the reconsidered review by Jojo Devera, “Passion and Compassion,” in his Sari-Saring Sineng Pinoy blog (uploaded February 13, 2025).

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Mother Knew Best

One of the first things that elderly netizens remarked when news of Lily Monteverde’s death broke out last August 4 was “how fittingly dramatic,” or variations thereof. Her husband, Leonardo “Remy” Monteverde, had died barely a week earlier. Even the later qualification that “Mother” Lily was also in serious intensive-care condition when it happened and therefore may not have known that she was already a widow – this did not deter old-timers who remembered her as founder and long-term manager of Regal Films (later Regal Entertainment), the most successful production outfit in Philippine film history.

Lily Monteverde (1939-2024) [photo courtesy of Philippine Entertainment Portal]

11011By the time of her death, Mother Lily had attained a measure of respectability that she seemingly did not hanker for during the heyday of Regal Films. Her latter-day prestige was due to her expansion into hotel ownership and management, showcased by the dankly massive Imperial Palace Suites at the juncture of Tomas Morato and Timog avenues in Quezon City, as well as her persistence in maintaining two film franchises. The first of these was the middlebrow Mano Po Chinoy melodramas, comprising seven theatrical releases (eight if we include the queer-comic variation Manay Po, more if we pile on two TV series) all produced during the current millennium. The second, more historically significant contribution was the omnibus Shake, Rattle & Roll horror series, seventeen as of last count including a single-installment special, a number of which are worth some attention and the most recent of which came out last year.

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11011The first SR&R film came out in 1984, featuring directors and stars associated with Regal Films (including Ishmael Bernal’s notable “Pridyider”) – except that … it wasn’t Regal-produced. The massive success of the formula induced the producers to unwisely invest in productions for censorship-exempt screenings at the Manila Film Center, then already confronting audience fatigue and backlash from the oppositionist Catholic Church, as represented by Jaime Cardinal Sin. Preceding them, Regal Films had already followed closely on the heels of relative newcomer Viva Films, countering Celso Ad. Castillo’s full-female-nudity in Isla (1985) with a film directed by Peque Gallaga, the Experimental Cinema of the Philippines’s breakout talent; his Scorpio Nights (remade in Korea by Park Jae-ho in 2001 as Summertime) was the first studio-produced Philippine film that contained an actual meat shot, courtesy of lead actor Orestes Ojeda.

11011Mother Lily of course had to endure a whole slew of scolding, initially from the moralistic elements of the Marcos Sr. dictatorship, until its orientation shifted to a libertarian policy, motivated first by its eagerness to stage and maintain the Manila International Film Festival (A-rated by FIAPF, a filmfest-ranking agency) and, later, by its determination to present itself as a culturally enlightened political force after the global outcry over the assassination of Senator Benigno S. Aquino Jr. during his return from US exile. The final censors chief appointed by the regime, in fact, contested the authority of the ECP and announced that she intended to ban Chinese and clergy from film-production activity and from appearing onscreen. Mother Lily’s production of Bernal’s Manila by Night, forbidden from competing in the Berlin International Film Festival during the early 1980s and released in censored form as the retitled City after Dark, was similarly restored and screened at the MFC.

Scolder & scoldee, reconciled
[photo courtesy of Philippine Star]

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11011Not surprisingly, stories swirled around her, a few of which sounded fantastic (like the Chinese- and clergy-hating censors chief) but were still confirmable. Who would believe today, for example, that Imelda once actually advocated for eliminating censorship and instituting divorce? The swing in the then-First Lady’s formerly pious persona could be easily tracked to her locking horns with Cardinal Sin as well as with Manuel Morato, who would eventually serve as top censor for Corazon Aquino. With the prospect of regime change becoming increasingly certain from one day to the next, it would be no surprise that Mother Lily would opt to cast her lot with Cory Aquino, to the extent of accommodating her youngest daughter’s dreams of becoming a film performer.

11011The aftermath of the people-power uprising of February 1986 provided definitive proof of Mother Lily’s prowess. Known as some of the world’s most active filmgoers, Filipinos quickly tired of the insistent middle-class celebrations of the so-called revolution and had to be lured back by any means necessary. Regal Films initiated a two-pronged approach, aimed to capture both the younger and women viewers on the one hand as well as the older and male segment on the other. For the first group, she contracted from TV a child star, Aiza Seguerra, and slated projects for theater-trained Roderick Paulate, who was peerless in his queer comic performances; her more mature solution, however, ran into opposition from the right-wing Morato as well as the conservative-academic left: she provided several projects for Joey de Leon, often teamed with another theater veteran, Rene Requiestas, that turned on their willingness to purvey extreme toilet humor.

11011The millennial generation, primed for anything that champions indie film values, prefers to celebrate Mother Lily for her pito-pito (literally double-seven) projects, which provided fixed budgets for filmmakers desperate for getting breaks in the then-infamously exclusivist film industry. While this strategy certainly foreshadowed the current digital era’s plenitude of opportunities, pito-pito must be seen as the final gasp of a production system still dependent on exorbitant celluloid costs. Only a small handful of these projects were worth long-term appreciation, with the best of them actually enjoying larger budgets and more extensive production periods. In combining the most transgressive elements in being both Chinese and Pinay, Mother Lily ought to be better remembered for the neurotically frenetic, shockingly profane, penny-pinching and multitasking movie-fan producer that she was during her glory days, rather than the solemn and respectable doyenne she turned into in the end.

[First published August 9, 2024, in The FilAm]

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