Review of Mga Anino ng Kahapon (Alvin Yapan, 2013)

Jaime Oscar M. Salazar

Near the beginning of Mga Anino ng Kahapon, Irene (Agot Isidro), a nurse, takes a day off to attend a parent-teacher conference at her son’s school, which apparently proceeds as usual, save for how it concludes: with a short speech from the security chief of their residential subdivision, in which all are reminded, in the wake of a recent burglary in the neighborhood, to be on the alert, and to immediately report any suspicious activity.

Shortly afterward, Irene begins to feel that she and the other members of her household are under scrutiny—something that her husband Ed (TJ Trinidad), also a nurse, occasionally complains of with regard to his supervisors when he makes video calls to her from Dubai, where he has just accepted a position in a bid to better provide for his family. While, with time, Ed appears to adjust to his new environment, Irene only becomes more fearful: she maintains that military agents are keeping watch and displays increasingly erratic behavior in the face of threats that no one else can see or understand, straining her relationships with Brian and her loved ones. The camera dwells on locks and chains, doors and walls, fences and cramped spaces, emphasizing the notions of security and surveillance, and building anxiety in coordination with the guitar-driven score. Things come to a head when Irene is diagnosed with schizophrenia.

Although co-produced by a pharmaceutical company—Janssen, a division of Johnson & Johnson (Philippines) Inc.—that manufactures medicines for a host of diseases, the topical mental disorder among them, Mga Anino ng Kahapon does not unreel like a protracted drug advertisement. Rather, in the hands of prizewinning filmmaker Alvin Yapan, who served as writer and director, it seeks to operate on two levels: literally, as a chronicle of the struggles of a woman in the grip of a difficult affliction, and of the people who have the care of her, towards fostering greater understanding of schizophrenia and its sufferers; and allegorically, as a meditation on the legacies of the authoritarian rule of Ferdinand Marcos, including the recent, disturbing surge in nostalgia for those dark years—seeming evidence of a collective “split mind”.

The lead actors turn in commendable performances here: Isidro unnerves with her ability to capture and maintain the flat affect that characterizes schizophrenia patients, while Trinidad supplies the emotional heft and texture required to convey the depth of his wife and family’s predicament.  Advocacy on behalf of people affected by illness and social critique are imperatives that make for an uneasy fit, however, and the resultant fissures run through Anino: in the scenes that discuss what the disorder is and how it is treated, for instance. Moreover, though the film successfully avoids melodrama and sentiment in its portrayal of the disorder, its restrained tone also prevents it from presenting what might have been a stronger case about the Marcos regime and its place in Philippine history.

Perhaps where the film registers its sharpest commentary in this respect is when Irene and Ed arrive, for the first time, at a meeting of a support group. Volunteering to speak, Irene addresses Ed, trying to explain her initial resistance to treatment: she gives voice to the desire that Ed see her not as a patient to be regarded with impersonal concern, but as a wife. She delights in watching him care for her, wants to be undressed with his eyes, and, most crucially, loves being monitored and stood guard over: “Ed, gustong-gusto ko talaga ‘pag binabantayan mo ako—ang bawat kilos ko.” Is this not the paternalist fantasy with which contemporary political discourse and action are still suffused?

*

Jaime Oscar M. Salazar is presently working toward his master’s degree in art studies at the University of the Philippines Diliman. He is a former lecturer with the Department of Literature at De La Salle University-Manila and currently works in the International Committee of the Red Cross.

Editor’s Note: This review is part of a series of reviews of outstanding films of 2013 and 2014 that we will feature here in the run-up to the YCC Citations Ceremony on April 23rd. Earlier reviews have been featured for Badil (here and here), Porno (here and here), Pagpag, Norte: Hangganan ng Kasaysayan, Lauriana, and Quick Change.

Rebyu ng Babagwa (Jason Paul Laxamana, 2013)

JPaul S. Manzanilla

Maiinis at magagalit ka sa sistema ng lokohan na nagaganap sa Babagwa ni Jason Paul Laxamana.

Malalaman mong ang bidang karakter na si Bam Bonifacio at ang kaibigang si Marney ay mga scammer sa facebook: gagawa ng pekeng account si Marney para kay Bam habang makikipagkilala ang huli gamit ang isang guwapo’t matipunong binata bilang kanyang pagkakakilanlan. Sa proseso ng pakikipagkaibigan at pagpapaibig ni Bam ay hihingan nila ang biktima ng malaking halaga ng salapi at pagkatapos makakulimbat ay ilalaglag na ang nalokong ka-chat at phone pal at papalitan na ang sim card.

Habang dumadaloy ang mga pangyayari at nagaganap ang dapat maganap ay matutunghayan natin ang mga suliraning binubuno ng mga tauhan. Paekstra-ekstra sa mga pelikula si Bam at nangangarap na sumikat kahit paano. Nakakatawa na nakakaasar ang mga eksenang nagpapanggap siyang gumaganap sa isang pelikulang katatakutan at minsan nama’y umaastang bakla sa mga sandali ng pagtatalik nila ng kanyang nobya. Ang babae ay kinukulit siyang pumunta ng Palawan, bagay na hindi niya maibigay dahil sa kakulangan ng pera. Si Marney naman ay hikahos din, at kailangang mailipat ang mga magulang dahil ang komunidad na tinitirha’y wawasakin na ng pamahalaan.

Sa bitag ng alanganin, sila ay kinakailangang mabuhay. Upang kumita at mabuhay naman ay kinakailangang magpanggap. Susi ang tunog sa pagtatanghal at paglalaro ng sarili at sitwasyon at mahusay ang pelikula sa paggamit ng boses bilang paggampan ng identidad. Kung walang edukasyon at propesyon, ano pa nga ba ang magagamit kundi ang katawan at diskarte?! Kaya kinakailangang maglambing, manuyo, manapa’y magalit paminsan-minsan at magpaawa gamit ang tinig sa isang relasyong hinuhubog ng pagtatantiya at alinlangan. Isa itong laro ng pag-arte upang makalansi ng ibang nilalang na hindi naman pera ang kinakailangan kundi mahihingahan ng loob, makakaibigan, maiibigan, at maging mapagpaparausan: mga bagay na hindi ekonomiko ngunit lagi’t laging dumurugtong sa kalagayang ekonomiko, dahil sa kabuhayan nakataya ang kanilang pagkatao. Dito maaaring humalaw ng magandang halimbawa ang mga pelikulang ukol sa kahirapan ngunit hindi ginagawang pornograpiko ang pagiging abâ ng mga tao.

Napapanahon din ang pelikula dahil sa pagpapakita nito ng gawain ng paglahok sa social media bilang pangunahing pinagkakaabalahan hindi lamang upang makipag-ugnayan ngunit pati ang magkaroon ng mapagkakakitaan. At kaakibat ng mga layuning ito ang reimbensyon ng sarili, ang pagsusumikap na makuha ang nilulunggati, ang paglalantad ng nararamdaman sa hinahangad, at ang katotohanang sa pagpapanggap lamang makukuha ang inaasam.

Hanggang makita nating kailangan nang kumalas. Dahil itong si Bam na nagpapanggap ay nahulog ang loob kay Daisy, isang napakaganda at napakaseksing babae na napakabait sa kanya. Itong Daisy pala ay tumutulong sa mga may kapansanan at mga nasalanta kaya hindi na maatim ng manggagantsong si Bam na lokohin pa. Dangan nga lamang, ayaw ng mga kasapakat ni Bam – na nakaaway na niya dahil ginogoyo din siya – na ihinto ang kalakaran hangga’t may pakinabang. At nagtapat na nga si Bam kay Daisy at iniwan na ang mga kasama. Bam: “Mahal mo ba ako? Paano kung hindi ako yung taong akala mo? Hindi mo pa nga ako nakikita sa totoong buhay, eh.” Daisy: “Lahat naman ng tao may itinatagong sikreto. Nakapatay na ako ng tao.” Sa huli, masasaksihang ang nandaraya ay siyang madadaya at ang namumuhunan ng libog at pagmamahal ang siyang magdurusa. Tanging sa aktwal na pagtatagpo pa rin matutuldukan ang katotohanan. Balik tayo sa simula ng pelikula kung kailan isinalaysay kung paanong niloloko ng matsing ang pagong at sa huli’y siya pala ang naisahan.

Mag-ingat sa patibong ng pagnanasa.

*

Si JPaul S. Manzanilla ay nananaliksik hinggil sa mga kasaysayan ng potograpiya, pelikula, at telebisyon sa bansa. Siya ay nagtapos ng komparatibong panitikan at kasaysayan ng sining sa Pamantasan ng Pilipinas sa Diliman at nagturo sa Pamantasan ng Pilipinas sa Maynila at Pamantasang Ateneo de Manila.

Editor’s Note: This review is part of a series of reviews of outstanding films of 2013 and 2014 that we will feature here in the run-up to the YCC Citations Ceremony on April 23rd. Earlier reviews have been featured for Badil (here and here), Porno (here and here), Pagpag, Norte: Hangganan ng Kasaysayan, Lauriana, Quick Change and Mga Anino ng Kahapon.

A review of YCC’s Best First Features of 2013

J. Pilapil Jacobo

The preponderance of film aspiration entitles most of the present commentariat to cast a hallow aura around almost every labor on that elusive form of the contemporary, cinema. The sheer thought of a motion picture debut is enough for the automatic pundit to disseminate the jouissance up to that point of customary virulence in the social media. And because this quasi-tantric brand of expertise is composed by a species of intelligence prone to film critical apperception, the purported rapture in the writing can only be bereft of the sufferance that recognizes asymmetries between the dissemination of cinematic text and the articulacy of film reception. One can think of this sufferance as that hospitality toward the negative—the ecliptic that allows spectatorial analysis to accede to an umbral shade widening its charge upon the light of cinephiliac day.

For a maenad of a respondent, the crepuscule is merely a calendrical moment, a period anticipated by temperate habit. And yet, that reviewer will aspire to inhibit crepuscular schedule, its possibility of disrupting in advance the glare of the solar hours his counter-insurgent prose must prevent—as if an optic agitated before the blaze can foresee the symptoms of blindness, an argument that must remain confident alongside the sufferant gaze. Without this darkly pursuit, the writing is ever the debut, too, when it assumes an aspect of the aspiration to become, film. This description of the pundit’s fetish on presence should explain why such a commentator had always been impatient with the dialectic the image enables its beholder to apprehend. Such excitement can only be contemporaneous with the spectacle of a time inimical to alterity while enamored with its own entitlements. Film critical apperception is found out within the apathies of film historical oblivion. One never exempts oneself from ideology in assuming the role of an advocate.

These film debuts did not survive the duress of the style of critique performed in the Young Critics Circle Film Desk. And yet, we cite them alongside the most singular accomplishments of Philippine cinema for film year 2013, as a signifier of a calibration of this period in the contemporary as far as our film historicizing is concerned. These three films are symptomatic of the current political economy of independent cinema in the country. They were all produced within film festivals sponsored by media networks whose primary means of accruing profit is through its telenovelistic machinery. The capital that funded these film debuts is derived from a surplus of the mass consumption of the brand of narrative seriality programmed to distract subjects across the archipelago and its trans-national communities from the material reality that can expose the precarious conditions of how people perceive their entertainment. Of course, the cinephile will celebrate the destiny of this surplus capital while ignoring the perilous traffic that plunders avant-garde independence from whatever work of cinema that submits itself to the low life of televisual intelligence. This is how one can confabulate the gold of a film age.

Aspiration intimates breath. As an instinct of the body as sufferant, there should be nothing wrong with it. When the mind overestimates the amount of atmosphere that  can be allowed within one’s lungs, that is a moment of frail cast assuming perspicacious figure that might prove deleterious to dynamic sense. The aspirational is dangerous insofar as it refuses to deliver the reverie from the ideologic, where one never knows one’s oncoming death.

Our choices for the inaugural honor of Best First Features refer us to a method of air Jean-Luc Godard had imagined for his own debut. These calibrations of breath instruct us on the interval that must be apprehended by a vocalist if she aspires to shape-shift through that movement: trill. In the cinema of contemplation that has bedeviled thoughtful projections in these parts, the cusp is elided in terms of a mise-en-scène that is obsessed with itself, that it cannot move on to its alter-image. Montage is deferred, in the hope that an idea can rise from the cadaver of concept. These instances are still enamored with a lassitude that irremediably divorces intellection from imaginative engagement, yet we do acknowledge intentions of passage.

The catholic colony established in sixteenth century Philippines was an abode of the devil; such is the sorrowful mystery that astonishes Angustia and inspires Kristian Sendon Cordero’s bewilderment to dismantle the forlornness through an ethnographic surrealist account of the natural history of eroticism and death in the south Luzonian tropics. Notwithstanding this audacity, the enamoration with the ethnic and her dialect of recalcitrance is what prevents the text from superintending its visual idiom to a comprehension of formal efficacy. That said, the historiographic identification with the “wretched of the earth” refusing to fall down after diabolical rampage should be peerless.

The “techniques of observation” which enable art to be endangered in reproducibility on the one hand and preserved in singularity on the other preoccupy the forger of the work in Mike Alcazaren’s Puti. The resolution of that cusp is shortchanged, though, when the phantasmagoria that persuades the subject to capitulate to the museological panopticon is played out within the cognitive alibi that is comatose. Still, the aspiration toward a return to painting as idiom of the film image is an optimal proposition.

Randolph Longjas’s Ang Turkey Man Ay Pabo Rin is a delirious comedy of manners on Filipino-American romance. The narrative method is quite crude, dependent on episodes of the joke of a passional trans-nation, but there is delicacy in Tuesday Vargas’s circumvention of Anglophone pretense. And there is nothing quite like this film’s earnestness.

At the outset, aspiration is always already absolute. The procedure to fulfill however must consider calibration. Perhaps, art is possible in this calculus.

*

J. Pilapil Jacobo is Assistant Professor at the School of Humanities of the Ateneo de Manila University where he teaches Literature and Literary Criticism and Theory in the Departments of English and Filipino. He holds the Ph.D. in Comparative Literature from the State University of New York. A specialist in tropology and tropicality, he is currently preparing an annotated edition of Fruto del Prado’s Bicolano translation (1867) of Modesto de Castro’s “Urbana at Feliza” (1864).

Editor’s Note: This review is part of a series of reviews of outstanding films of 2013 and 2014 that we will feature here in the run-up to the YCC Citations Ceremony on April 23rd. Earlier reviews have been featured for Badil (here and here), Porno (here and here), Pagpag, Norte: Hangganan ng Kasaysayan, Lauriana, Quick Change, Ang Kwento ni Mabuti, Debosyon, Babagwa, and Mga Anino ng Kahapon.

Review of Sonata (Peque Gallaga and Lore Reyes, 2013)

Jaime Oscar M. Salazar

Appearing onstage at the Arena di Verona for a performance of Rusalka, widely renowned soprano Regina Cadena, in the titular role, opens her mouth to begin a rendition of “Měsíčku na nebi hlubokém” (“Song to the Moon”), only to hear her voice crack, falter, and wither away, prompting the audience to erupt into loud jeers and boos—much like the water nymph at the center of the opera by Czech composer Antonín Dvořák, she is rendered mute and scorned. After failing in her attempts to find a cure for the baffling affliction that has caused her mortification at one of the most famous amphitheaters in the world, Regina retreats to her ancestral sugar estate in Negros Occidental, where, fueled by cigarettes, alcohol, and the difficulties arising from her relationship with a married man, she sinks ever deeper into a misery that borders on madness.

In a bid to assist and support Regina through her anguish, her secretary Cora, who oversees all the affairs of her family’s business in Manila, flies in with Jonjon, her young son, in tow. It is the presence of the boy that proves essential for the gradual recovery of the despondent diva from the vagaries of self-exile; after an unpromising first encounter, the two strike up a friendship that awakens in Regina the resolve to bear up through her loss and the courage to begin life anew, including by singing again—qualities that come to the fore when, later on, a much greater tragedy occurs.

By unfolding along the foregoing lines, it would be fair to say that Sonata is rife with the potential for mawkishness of the highest order. That it manages to rise, and, in certain parts, even soar above bathos is tribute to all involved in its making, most notably Cherie Gil, who puts on a bravura performance as Regina, employing a calibrated theatricality as her character moves from despair to delight, from fragility to fortitude. The film does not rest on her shoulders alone, of course: among the ensemble, Chino Jalandoni, who plays Jonjon, is particularly noteworthy for being able to hold his own in his scenes with her—an easy rapport exists between them onscreen and he provides a gentle, refreshing contrast to her intensity.

It must be underscored, however, that in view of its preoccupation with its main characters and the closeness that develops between them, Sonata does not contain within it the resources to embark on an incisive interrogation of the social rhythms that animate the world that it represents. Especially significant as the film is set within a sugar plantation, the shortcoming becomes most palpable in the cinematographic treatment of the vast fields surrounding Regina’s opulent mansion and the destitute laborers that tend to them: they tend to constitute mere scenery, picturesque exotica, which have no doubt contributed to the facile and facetious declarations regarding the self-evidently salvific capabilities of art and nature that have appeared in many reviews of the film.

At best, some space is created for Regina to grapple with issues pertaining to the feudal system that prevails, unchallenged and undisturbed, throughout Sonata. For example, Regina and Cora are about the same age and grew up as teenagers together, but whenever they interact, Cora refuses to address Regina in familiar terms despite being invited to do so, and stands by her rather appalling servility to Regina, citing her lifelong debt to Regina’s mother for taking her in as a member of the household staff and providing for her college education. During such moments, which lay bare the scale of the asymmetry of power and privilege between them, whether Regina realizes that she, to draw from Forster, stands upon money as upon an island, and that many others are down below the surface of the sea is far from certain: she does not appear to be driven to existential anxiety about her status as an artist of the rentier class, but one could choose to take heart in the bewilderment and distress visibly etched upon her face—having grown aware of the oppression that is bound up with and sustains her life and art, there might be hope yet for this “queen of chains”.

*

Jaime Oscar M. Salazar is a graduate student of the Department of Art Studies at the University of the Philippines Diliman. He works for an international humanitarian organization.

Editor’s Note: This review is part of a series of reviews of outstanding films of 2013 and 2014 that we will feature here in the run-up to the YCC Citations Ceremony on April 23rd. Earlier reviews have been featured for Badil (here and here), Porno (here and here), Pagpag, Lauriana, Quick Change, Ang Kwento ni Mabuti, Debosyon, Babagwa, Norte: Hangganan ng Kasaysayan, Mga Anino ng Kahapon, and the 2013 Best First Features.

Aristotle Atienza

Mapangahas ang pelikulang Debosyon (Alvin Yapan, 2013).  Ang bitbitin ang manonood sa mapanganib na laylayan ng mga paniniwala ay nakababahala.  Subalit, nasa engkuwentrong ito ang mga posibilidad ng interbensiyon.

Deboto ni Ina (Birhen ng Penafrancia) si Mando (Paulo Avelino).  Dadayuhin niya ang simbahan sa Naga at mag-aalay ng bulaklak at dasal para protektahan ang tanim na palay.  Habang hinihintay ang tag-ani, tutungo siya sa gubat upang pumitas ng mga orkidya na ibebenta sa palengke.  Sa kasukalan ng kagubatan, susubukang niyang angkinin ang pulang bulaklak na orkidya na umagaw sa kaniya ng pansin.  Pero mahuhulog siya at mawawalan ng malay.  Magigising siya sa kubo ni Saling (Mara Lopez), at sa kaniyang pananatili, mapapamahal siya sa dalagang namumuhay nang mag-isa.  Iimbitahan ni Mando si Saling sa bayan upang mabigo lamang ito dahil isinumpa ang babae na manatili sa kagubatan.  Kung bakit ay isisiwalat niya kay Mando na siya si Oryol na tunay namang ikagugulat ng binata.  Tatakbo siyang palayo pero upang bumalik lamang din na bitbit ang mananalangin sa kubo ni Saling.  Wala itong magagawa sa kondisyon ng dalaga kundi ang ipaalala kay Mando na magpanata kay Ina.  Sa araw mismo ng parada ng Penafrancia, walang pag-aalinlangan siyang hahangos pabalik ng kagubatan upang makapiling ang minamahal.

Kuwento ng pag-ibig ang pelikula.  Dito hindi magulang o kayamanan o matalik na kaibigan ang dakilang hadlang kundi ang nararapat at ang tinatanggap sa lipunan.  Ang diskurso ng pag-ibig ay pinasisigla ng mga praktika sa paniniwala, ng institusyon ng pamilya, simbahan, at lipunan.  Pero sa halip na maging sagabal, nagiging posibilidad ang engkuwentro ni Mando kay Ina upang maisakatuparan ang bawal na pagmamahal.  Kaya’t magpupursige si Mando na hanapan ng lunas ang sakit ng minamahal.  Bakit hindi na lang talikuran si Saling gaya ng kuwento ng lalaking nagmahal sa babae?  Bakit hindi na lang manatiling magdusa sa babaeng hindi niya maangkin?  Dahil nga nagmamahal.  Sa una’t una pa lamang, isinisiwalat sa pagkakasaksi ni Mando sa lihim ni Saling ang posibilidad ng mga imposibilidad.  Hindi sa hindi matatag ang kaniyang paniniwala kaya’t madali itong nagambala kundi ang pagpapaigting pang lalo ng paniniwala sa katotohanan ng mga himala.  Kaya’t nang makita ni Mando sa mata ni Ina ang mata ni Saling, hindi sapat na tapusin ang pelikula sa paghahawakan ng kamay o paghahalikan sa kagubatan o kahit na sa kasal saksi ang ilang na kapaligiran, kailangang maramdaman ang katotohanan ng pagniniig sa katawan ng minamahal.  At mabibigo kang hindi makita ang pagkawala ng sumpa.

Dalawa na silang isinusumpa ngayon.  Pero napatunayan na ni Mando ang kaniyang debosyon kay Saling, at mula sa mga laylayang gaya nito ipinapanukalang sisibol ang hustisyang ipinagkait sa mga nilalang na naisantabi sa kanayunan at kagubatan.  Nasa laylayan na si Mando pero bakit pipiliin pa ang pinakalaylayang kinalalagyan ni Saling?  May kakayahang hanapin ni Saling ang hustisya sa pananalanta sa bayan para paghigantihan ang mga lalaking nagmahal at nanloko sa kaniya.  Pero pagod na si Saling.  At isa pa, hindi ito ang pelikulang halimaw na nakasanayan natin.

Dahil sa pagtawid ni Mando sa kagubatan ni Saling, pinipili niya ang espasyo ng laylayan nang hindi tuluyang tinatalikuran o kinakalimutan ang naging engkuwentro sa sentro.  Hindi tulad ng tagalabas na militar na manghihimasok sa kagubatan ng Kabikulan upang “linisin”ang lipunan ng masasamang elemento, makikipagniig si Mando sa mga nilalang (Agta, rebelde, Saling) na itinulak palabas ng bayan at makahahanap ng tahanan sa mga laylayan.  Hindi pagsuko at hindi lugar ng kawalan ng kapangyarihan ang laylayan, kundi lugar ng posibilidad para sa mas mabuti at katanggap-tanggap na hinaharap.  Saan nagmumula ang kalungkutan at kapaguran ni Saling?  Hindi sa kabiguan sa pag-ibig na dinanas niya kundi sa kasaysayang nanamantala mismo sa mga katulad niya.  Kaya’t si Saling ay hindi na lamang din si Oryol.  Naroon sa kanyang pag-alaala at pagpapaalala ang bakas ng mga karahasang ginawa ng lipunan.  Isinasakatawan niya ang mga pinatahimik dahil nakagagambala.  Sa paglalantad, binubuksan niya ang espasyo ng laylayan para sa mga tunay na naniniwala.  Paano ngayon makikisangkot sa mga hindi pinagsasalita ng lipunan?

Nasa pelikulang Debosyon ang mapangahas na interbensyong kailangang gawin sa opisyal na kasaysayang pinapaniwala sa atin ng Kapangyarihan.

*

Aristotle J. Atienza teaches language, literature, and popular culture in the Filipino Department at the Ateneo de Manila University.

Editor’s Note: This review is part of a series of reviews of outstanding films of 2013 and 2014 that we will feature here in the run-up to the YCC Citations Ceremony on April 23rd. Earlier reviews have been featured for Badil (here and here), Porno (here and here), Pagpag, Lauriana, Quick Change, Ang Kwento ni Mabuti, Debosyon, Babagwa, Norte: Hangganan ng Kasaysayan, Mga Anino ng Kahapon, Sonata, and the 2013 Best First Features.

Tessa Maria Guazon

Sonata Maria (Ug ang Babayeng Halas ang Tunga sa Lawas, Origane Films 2014) wrestles in cunning and play the wrought question of existence. It is viewed through the eyes of a millennial rendering it specific to a generation. The ruminations that course through the film however, cut across generations facing bewilderment and confusion of varying configurations. The film employs a nomadic structure yet is densely composed combining the belligerent with the docile through elements that represent both conformity and rebellion. It courts bafflement by teetering between the cryptic and the purposeful, and by alternating between near indulgence and deep introspection.

More than any other in the YCC 2014 shortlist, Sonata Maria embodies the necessity of crafting and putting forth engaging visual language.  It does so by skillfully weaving the elements of surprise and play in its narrative. The images that make the almost disjunctive story are artfully composed in its combination of the fantastic and the ordinary. The locale is the scene that anchors an inner landscape; the former is Davao and Visayan, the vernacular language; and the latter is the meandering imagination. Sonata Maria is deliberately eclectic, replete with familiar tropes (the carnival and the city street are examples) and the typical convention of ‘unstructured conversation’ between its characters. Yet surprise is ingrained through its representations of the workings of the mind as it makes little distinction between straying thoughts and the character’s real life world. This is achieved by pictorial and visual parallels between imaginings (the thoughts inside the main character’s head) and the film’s narrative flow.

While the film itself is imaginative navigation, it inserts into this stream another life world and succeeds to construct a many-layered format. Most important, the film veers off from tendencies of being overburdened or becoming overworked and is imbued with invigorating newness. It did not ask that we take sides, judge the character’s foibles, or scrutinize too closely the unlikely turns of the character’s and indeed, the film’s mind. It is what is and that by itself causes discomfort. However, the film director have found an unlikely path of animating this unease in a visual language that renders the narrative with unexpected seamlessness: take for example, scenes where using a gun accidentally found in a toilet was considered. In the first, it was used to shoot a man in the stomach after a relay of slow pursuit; in another it was contemplated for self-annihilation (which is quicker and less painful perhaps, the head or the mouth?). Of course, the main character turns out to be ‘chicken’ for both acts (choosing roast chicken over suicide), as his courage is of a questioning and not the drastic or daring kind.

He lingers and lurks, nurses misery, attempts optimism, luxuriates in fantasy and becomes an incoherent patchwork of opposed persuasions and incongruous tendencies. He reflects on what life is (he was born on the same day as Bonifacio but is far from revolutionary) and what it can become, and finds his musings all futile enterprise. Thus, we wonder if he or the film itself has anything to say. Perhaps there is more or little to be told. Maybe we are sure of the path or probably none exists. Way finding may be torturous, indulgent, pained, delightful or joyous, or one may opt not to care. It is this trail of ambiguity that is Sonata Maria’s version of wanderlust: textured, amusing, baffling, surprising thus, infinitely wondrous.

*

Tessa Maria Guazon is assistant professor at the Art Studies Department, University of the Philippines Diliman. Her research interests center on cities and culture, specifically art production in the context of urban development.

Editor’s Note: This review is part of a series of reviews of outstanding films of 2013 and 2014 that we will feature here in the run-up to the YCC Citations Ceremony on April 23rd. Earlier reviews have been featured for Badil (here and here), Porno (here and here), Debosyon (here and here), Pagpag, Lauriana, Quick Change, Ang Kwento ni Mabuti,, Babagwa, Norte: Hangganan ng Kasaysayan, Mga Anino ng Kahapon, Sonata, and the 2013 Best First Features.

A Review of Sundalong Kanin (Janice O’Hara, 2014)

JPaul S. Manzanilla

It has become common to tell a coming-of-age story set in war. Giuseppe Tornatore’s Malena showed a boy’s obsession with a pretty woman in the midst of Second World War Italy. Eddie Romero’s Ganito Kami Noon, Paano Kayo Ngayon narrated a young man’s curiosities in the course of the country’s struggle against Spain and America. In both films and in Sundalong Kanin, adolescence is wrapped up in a drastically changing social body-politic.

We witness how boys fight children’s games, and play out their fantasies even through the war. Things turn out appalling when the games become too real to be enjoyable that their adventure becomes so serious in its childishness and we begin to question how tenable circumstances are.

What transpires is a game of social inversion, seen in how a Nihonggo-speaking servant was appointed by the Japanese captain to serve as town executive and, hence, chief patsy of the occupying force. Tonyo, the then-a-helper-now-a-master, exploited the opportunity to exact revenge upon the former executive who humiliated his family, following his child’s win in a children’s game defeating the boss’s son. This particular fact shows how a local potentate depends so much on a force coming from outside in order to have control over his fellows, revealing in the process the fragility of power in an uneven polity. How can this fragile and facetious authority be subverted?

Accomplished in the film is a brilliant exposition of gray areas in moments of turmoil. The Japanese officer mercifully kills a raped girl to spare her from further suffering and exonerates a boy who confesses of killing a Japanese soldier; tellingly, the child says that he doesn’t want to kill—this after preparing weapons for killing enemies earlier in the movie—and the officer admires him for such wisdom. The audience cannot help but laugh at scenes of a screwball rebel officer aping his unseen American superiors with crackling English we have come to associate with the military establishment. Tonyo’s mother suffers in silence but does all her best to mitigate her son’s wickedness, lecturing a child not to follow his son’s ways. One boy recognized his mother’s rapist from the comrades of his playmates’ brothers; he later exposed the rebels to the enemies and was swiftly punished for “treachery” by his friends. All the kids who played the lead roles, especially the one who played Tonyo’s son, deserve commendation for sensitive acting. And the editing adroitly cuts and connects moments for a careful development of tempestuous scenes, crucially from the instant a Japanese soldier is killed by the boys to the part where their fathers are blamed for the crime—the climax before the climax.

One, however, finds a problem in how things are being reduced to personal struggles. It is as though war is just an extension of the boys and their fathers’ resentments, with the conquering army’s sudden granting of power and its attendant privileges utilized for revenge.While it is true that the internal or the domestic is the decisive element, we also ought to know how the foreign or the outside re-form the entity it combats. If war is politics by other means, we need to ascertain why and how an enemy is defined as one before he is annihilated, or becomes triumphant.

Two boys from opposing sides survive the struggle in the end. We are, at least, offered a chance to hear a retelling of the memories of violence.

*

JPaul S. Manzanilla taught communication, humanities, and Philippine arts courses at the University of the Philippines Manila and Filipino and history courses at the Ateneo de Manila University.

Editor’s Note: This review is part of a series of reviews of outstanding films of 2013 and 2014 that we will feature here in the run-up to the YCC Citations Ceremony on April 23rd. Earlier reviews have been featured for Badil (here and here), Porno (here and here), Debosyon (here and here), Pagpag, Lauriana, Quick Change, Ang Kwento ni Mabuti, Babagwa, Norte: Hangganan ng Kasaysayan, Mga Anino ng Kahapon, Sonata, the 2013 Best First Features, and Sonata Maria.

Aristotle J. Atienza

Umiikot ang pelikulang Dagitab (Giancarlo Abrahan, 2014) sa mag-asawang Tolentino na dumadaan sa kani-kanilang mid-life crisis: propesor sa Unibersidad ng Pilipinas sa Diliman sina Jimmy at Issey.  Dahil kapwa may pinagdadaanan, kahit maging pagsasama ay malalagay sa alanganin sa kabila ng kawalan natin ng pagdududa na tunay naman nilang mahal ang isa’t isa.  Sabay pa rin silang naliligo, umuuwi, kumakain.  Pero bagama’t titimbanging hindi sapat ang mga gawaing ito ng mag-asawa (dahil nga sa kani-kanilang krisis), hindi naman nila binobola o tinitiyaga ang pagsasama.  Sa lokasyong ito mailulugar ang atraksiyon ng manonood sa relasyong mayroon ang mag-asawa.

Kahit kamera ay nahalina sa kanilang pagsasama dala ng may lalim na pagganap nina Nonie Buencamino at Eula Valdes na bukas at komportable sa isa’t isa na repleksiyon marahil ng tradisyong mayroon ang pamantasang pinanggagalingan at kinalakhan.  Hindi naman siguro masamang sabihing may edad na sina Buencamino at Valdes, at hindi na marahil makapagpapakikilig pa (subalit bakit hindi) lalo na kung lagi’t laging ikinakabit sa tiyak na demograpiko ng kabataan ang pakiramdam na ito, pero bakit may halina sa kanilang dalawa?  Madaling tugunan ito ng panahong nahulma sa pagiging aktor sa mahabang panahon sa mga magkakaibang pagkakataon ng career bilang aktor at aktres pero paanong nagkakaroon ng bigat at tindi ang dalawa lalo na sa kanilang unang pagsasama sa pelikula.  Muli itong pinatitibay sa pagtutugma ng kaibahan ng mag-asawa dahil ipinapaaalala ang kakulangan ng/sa isa’t isa.

Napapagod pero hindi tumitigil si Issey habang pursigido naman sa pagkilos si Jimmy.  Ipinapanukala ng pelikula na ang pinagdadaanang sigwa ng dalawa ay resulta na rin ng panahong inilagi sa unibersidad na matagal nilang pinaglagian.  Para kay Jimmy, ito ang ilang taong pananaliksik kay Bulan at ang sundang.  Para kay Issey, ito ang kawalan na sa kaniyang lohika ay hindi naman nawawala kundi lumiliit lamang habang tumatanda.  Sa pagtatapos ng pelikula, matatagpuan ito ni Jimmy, at matatapos na rin niya ang mahabang panahon ng pananaliksik na magkukumbinsi sa kaniyang tuluyang pamumundok.  Si Issey ang malabo dahil maaaring maiwan siya sa Diliman o lumipat na lang ng U.P. Baguio para doon magturo o sundin ang suhestiyon ng asawa na magpahinga lang at hindi lumayo.  Makapaglalabas man siya ng libro ng malulungkot na tula sa tagal-tagal ng panahon, tila hindi pa rin ito naging kasagutan sa black hole na matagal na niyang nararamdaman. Kaya’t nagiging romantiko ang pelikula na pinatitibay pang lalo ng masinop na sinematograpiya ni Rommel Sales at ng metikolosong disenyong pamproduksiyon nina Whammy Alcazaren at Tessa Tang.

Pero kung minsan nakalalasing ang labis na pagmamahal sa ilaw at tagpuan na tumutulak upang timbangin kung saan-saang daan pinatutungo ang mga tauhan.  Hindi na ito katanungan kung makikita ba sa realidad ang nakikita sa pelikula dahil sa una’t una pa lamang ay totoo na ang nakikita rito, at hinulma na ang realidad na ito ng mga aparatong ginamit sa paggawa.  Kung magkaganito man ay marami pa sana tayong mga tanong na kailangang sagutin, mga butas na kailangang punan, mga detalyeng kailangang dagdagan, upang mabuo ang kasaysayang ginagalawan.

Nasa “pagpapaganda” sa karanasan humihina ang pelikula.  Matatagpuan ni Jimmy ang hinahanap, habang hindi natagpuan ni Issey ang dapat matuklasang magpapabago o makapagwawasak sa kinasasadlakan?  Tila pipiliin pa ni Issey ang kalungkutan dahil ba ito na ang kawalan na nariyan at hindi na mawawala kailanman?  Madadagdagan pa ito ng naratibo ng inaanak na si Gab Atienza na maliming ginampanan ni Martin del Rosario ang kabataang manunulat, na sa pagdidiskubre ng sarili ay mapagtatagumpayang maitawid ang bagong karanasan upang magamit lamang (at makalikha ng maliit na ingay sa maliit na komunidad) sa premyadong sanaysay ang babae.  Bagama’t pagsisihan ito ni Gab sa huli, dahil unti-unti nang matututuhang tanggapin ang sarili, aakuin pa ring lahat ito ni Issey.  Nakapanghihinayang lalo na’t nasa unibersidad nilang mahal ang mga posibilidad upang makatulong na maalpasan ang ilan pang dinaramdam.  Diyan makukulong ang pelikula sa kaniyang sariling pamagat.

*

Sa kasalukuyan, si Aristotle J. Atienza ay guro sa Kagawaran ng Filipino ng Pamantasang Ateneo de Manila, at mag-aaral ng Ph.D. Philippine Studies sa Unibersidad ng Pilipinas sa Diliman.  Kasama si Rolando B. Tolentino, pinamatnugutan nila ang Ang Dagling Tagalog, 1903-1936 (Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2007).

Editor’s Note: This review is part of a series of reviews of outstanding films of 2013 and 2014 that we will feature here in the run-up to the YCC Citations Ceremony on April 23rd. Earlier reviews have been featured for Badil (here and here), Porno (here and here), Debosyon (here and here), Pagpag, Lauriana, Quick Change, Ang Kwento ni Mabuti, Babagwa, Norte: Hangganan ng Kasaysayan, Mga Anino ng Kahapon,Sonata, the 2013 Best First Features, Sonata Maria, and Sundalong Kanin.

Jaime Oscar M. Salazar

Spanning the course of a few decades, from about the 1970s to the present, Mariquina finds Imelda Nuñez, née Guevarra (Mylene Dizon, and, as a teenager, Barbie Forteza), reexamining her relationship with Romeo, her father, from whom she has long been estranged. Death is what occasions such remembering: at the beginning of the film, an unkempt, desolate Romeo (Ricky Davao), well past his prime as the best shoemaker in Marikina, takes a last bite of a take-out meal and tightens the laces of each shoe—actions, it is revealed, that compose the prelude to a suicide. Amid the general tumult affecting her garment firm on account of a bungled order, Imelda finds herself pressed into service for his wake: her particular task is to secure a pair of wingtip shoes in her father’s size—for all the care that he took during his final moments, he lost his footwear when he made his fatal leap off the railing of a bridge.

An only child, Imelda grows up in the ease and comfort made possible by the success of her father’s shoe factory, but trouble brews and finally erupts between her parents when she reaches high school. Chafing at her marriage to a man whom she loves no longer, Leonor (Che Ramos), Imelda’s mother, reaches her breaking point and decides to strike out for the United States on her own, leaving Romeo and Imelda behind. Into the void created by Leonor’s departure steps Tess (Bing Pimentel), Romeo’s business associate. In much the same way that she helps Romeo steer his company through sundry crises—Tess is a far savvier entrepreneur than he is—she stands by him in his time of need, eventually becoming his lover and domestic partner. Sometime after, Imelda jumps at the chance to follow her mother to Hawaii, setting the pattern that endures into her later years, even after she returns to the Philippines: a life without Romeo.

Adopting a deliberate pace and working chiefly in hushed tones, Mariquina layers loss upon loss as Imelda, over the course of her search for the perfect pair of shoes, finds herself weighing the flaws and failures of her father against the apathy and abandonment that she visited upon him when he was still alive. Scenes from Imelda’s younger days track the slow disintegration of her family—a process of decline that takes place nearly in tandem with the massive transformations of their locality and country during and after the fall of the house of Marcos.

The character of Imelda requires significant exertion from Dizon and Forteza: Forteza seems perplexed by the challenge to evoke, during pivotal moments, something other than puerile petulance, while Dizon falters in her attempts to add nuance to a stolidity adopted in the face of grief. That the strata of sorrow running through the film build up to compelling effect is more to the credit of Davao, Ramos, and, most especially, Pimentel, whose performance breathes complex life into her shrewd, vulnerable “other woman”.

While the events of the film are aptly grounded in time and space, evoking, by way of the cinematography of Sasha Palomares and the production design of Aped Santos, the surfaces, depths, and textures of its milieu with diligence, the film, to its detriment, exhibits a kind of myopia or carelessness—perhaps both—in its consideration of history and memory, of the personal and the political. This defect comes to the fore when former First Lady Imelda Marcos appears onscreen to deliver a few speaking lines. Her scene as such is of little consequence to the story, and it is precisely for this reason that it is able to disturb: the objectionable implication is that the glittering madam—who has more than once crowed that those who raided Malacañan Palace during the heady days of the first People Power Revolution found that her closets contained only shoes, not skeletons—is ultimately incidental, gratuitous, dismissible.

*

Jaime Oscar M. Salazar is a graduate student of the Department of Art Studies at the University of the Philippines Diliman. He works for an international humanitarian organization.

Editor’s Note: This review is part of a series of reviews of outstanding films of 2013 and 2014 that we will feature here in the run-up to the YCC Citations Ceremony on April 23rd. Earlier reviews have been featured for Badil (here and here), Porno (here and here), Debosyon (here and here), Pagpag, Lauriana, Quick Change, Ang Kwento ni Mabuti, Babagwa, Norte: Hangganan ng Kasaysayan, Mga Anino ng Kahapon,Sonata, the 2013 Best First Features, Sonata Maria, Sundalong Kanin, and Dagitab.

Skilty Labastilla

Doris (Chai) Quieta prepares flowers while humming a 1990s pop tune one morning in the kitchen of their makeshift house in Barangay Cologcog, Tanauan, Leyte, while her husband Ferdinand (Nick) looks on. They are off to visit their four children, aged 11, 8, 5, and 1.5 years old, who are now resting in peace along with their grandmother and twelve cousins (all children) in a cemetery nearby. Just four months prior, on the night of November 7^th, 2013, the 16 children were seeking shelter along with their grandmother in the latter’s sturdier concrete house in anticipation of Typhoon Yolanda, while their parents kept watch of their own flimsier houses within the same barangay.

The typhoon, one of the strongest ever recorded to make landfall, began to be felt in Calogcog by 4 AM of November 8^th, packing winds of up to 195 mph. Alas, even while the one-story concrete house the children and their grandmother were cooped up in survived the winds, it was no match for the storm surges that created five- to six-meter-high waves that inundated many parts of Leyte, wiping out houses, vehicles, trees, and leaving more than 6,000 dead. Most of the dead, including the Quieta kin, perished from the rapidly rising waters.

The film Nick & Chai (2014) chronicles the story of the grieving couple as they cope with their loss with grit and perseverance, despite constantly talking about wishing to be simultaneously reunited with their children. The couple obviously trusts the filmmakers enough to welcome them into their home during a most difficult time of mourning for the deaths of one’s own children. Young directors Cha Escala and Wena Sanchez reciprocate the trust by respecting the couple’s distance and privacy. It is that rare documentary that tackles grief and sorrow up close without being invasive or exploitative, and it certainly never succumbs to misery porn. Sure, the couple is often seen wiping away tears in the film as they recall an anecdote about one of the kids, or when they recount the events of that fateful day. Yet it is the positive spirit of the couple that shines through, and it is what the filmmakers focus on.

Soon after burying their children, the couple scoured through the remains of their home and found Chai’s satchel. Inside was a small bag of seeds. The couple, both graduates of agriculture from the Visayas State University, saw it as a sign from their children not to give up on life and to help others with their knowledge on food production. Relief from government and international aid agencies had not yet reached them, so they immediately went about plowing the soil of their backyard lot and prepared it for planting. Their neighbors thought they surely must have gone insane, what with all of their children gone in an instant. The seeds eventually grew into a lush vegetable garden that the couple opened to the whole community for harvest.

Nick and Chai’s extraordinary strength in the face of adversity coupled with technical know-how and admirable selflessness to help their community even while they needed help themselves made them a source of inspiration for their neighbors. The filmmakers, by chronicling this wonderful story in a frills-free manner—the film never overreaches beyond capturing the basic essence of humanity—gift us viewers with a renewed sense of purpose, reminding us about our own mortality, but more importantly, about our immense capacity for altruism.

*

Skilty Labastilla has degrees in Anthropology and Social Development. He is Research Associate at the Institute of Philippine Culture.

Editor’s Note: This review is part of a series of reviews of outstanding films of 2013 and 2014 that we will feature here in the run-up to the YCC Citations Ceremony on April 23rd. Earlier reviews have been featured for Badil (here and here), Porno (here and here), Debosyon (here and here), Pagpag, Lauriana, Quick Change, Ang Kwento ni Mabuti, Babagwa, Norte: Hangganan ng Kasaysayan, Sonata, Mga Anino ng Kahapon, the 2013 Best First Features, Sonata Maria, Sundalong Kanin, Dagitab and Mariquina.

The Young Critics Circle Film Desk will give out awards for best achievement in Philippine cinema for 2013 and 2014 today, April 23rd, 4 pm, at the UP Vargas Museum, Diliman, Quezon City.

Awardees for 2013 are:

Best Film: Porno (directed by Adolfo Alix, Jr.)
Best Screenplay: Porno, Ralston Jover
Best Editing: Pagpag, Jerrold Tarog and Porno (Aleks Castaneda)
Best Cinematography and Visual Design: Lauriana, Nap Jamir (cinematography) and Edgar Martin Littaua (production design)
Best Sound and Aural Orchestration: Porno, Albert Michael Idioma (sound design) and Ira Trofeo (sound)
Best Performance: Carlo Aquino, Porno and Jhong Hilario, Badil
Best First Feature: Angustia, directed by Kristian Sendon Cordero; Puti, directed by Mike Alcazaren; and Ang Turkey Man Ay Pabo Rin, directed by Randolph Longjas

Awardees for 2014 are:

Best Editing: Mariquina, Benjamin Tolentino
Best Cinematography and Visual Design: Dagitab, Rommel Sales (cinematography) and Whammy Alcazaren and Tessa Tang (production design)
Best Sound and Aural Orchestration: Sonata Maria, Maki Serapio (sound design), Wrap Meting and Mark Limbaga (sound) and Jad Montenegro (music)
Best Performance: Eula Valdes and Nonie Buencamino (duo performance), Dagitab
Best First Feature: Dagitab, directed by GIancarlo Abrahan V; Nick & Chai, directed by Cha Escala and Wena Sanchez; and Sonata Maria, directed by Bagane Fiola

The ceremony, which is open to the public, is supported by the UP Diliman Office for Initiatives in Culture and the Arts (OICA).

Skilty Labastilla

In the 25-year history of the Young Critics Circle Film Desk, the year 2013 recorded the most number of nominations in four of the six categories that the group hands out each year. Of the 13 shortlisted films, eight were nominated for Best Film, 15 for Best Performance, eight for Best Screenplay, and 11 for Best Cinematography and Visual Design. The confidence that YCC has given to this many films in a single year speaks much about the abundance of talent among the current generation of Filipino filmmakers.

The preoccupations of the films that YCC took notice of in 2013 are as significant as they are diverse, yet can be grouped into certain themes. One is identity, films that interrogate the positioning and constant repositioning of the self in view of the wider milieu. There is Riddles of My Homecoming, Arnel Mardoquio’s hypnotic cinematic puzzle about a young lumad whose soul journeys back to his homeland upon his death. The surrealistic film touches on many levels of domination that indigenous Mindanao has endured over the years as a consequence of unregulated commerce, of perennial government neglect, of religious conversion, of environmental exploitation in the name of “progress”. The lumad, the island’s original inhabitants, now find themselves in the remotest margins of their own land, and Mardoquio’s dirge of a film is his premonition.

Jason Paul Laxamana’s Babagwa also grapples with questions of identity and how it can be even more conveniently manipulated in the age of social media. The film comments on Filipinos’ obsession with gaining as many “friends” on Facebook, with users giving premium to popularity and physical attractiveness as key criteria for adding or accepting distant acquaintances to one’s network. Laxamana wants viewers to be more circumspect in navigating the online world, especially when our privacies and our emotions are at stake. He skillfully uses cinematic sleight of hand, gradually unspooling the story’s web on the audience to parallel the trickery that its characters are taking part in, and even when we have already figured out the twist before it is revealed, we still breathlessly await the climax because we would like to be the ones to tell the naive characters, “I told you so!”.

Eduardo Roy Jr.’s Quick Change introduces viewers to the colorful world of barangay gay beauty pageants and undercover body enhancement procedures, yet beyond the film’s examination of spectacle, it invites serious contemplation on Filipino notions of masculinity and femininity. The film’s protagonist is a transwoman who opted not to undergo sex reassignment surgery, and this has been a source of conflict with her boyfriend, who has shifted his attention to a younger transwoman who underwent the said surgery and now feels like a complete woman. The film in a way challenges this idealization by the trans people themselves of this transformation to make them more secure of their womanhood and to satisfy their straight male lovers, ironically perpetuating the homophobia of the heterosexist world that is marginalizing them in the first place.

Violence also figures prominently in 2013’s best films.  Alvin Yapan’s Mga Anino ng Kahapon astutely imagines the horrors of Martial Law brutality and surveillance as a nightmare that a schizophrenic patient is trying desperately to escape from. Without being too obvious about it, the film serves as a warning against collective memory lapses that some quarters fall into when recalling life during the Marcos era. If schizophrenia can now be cured by a drug, art, like Yapan’s film, will continue to “cure” damaging historical denials.

Mel Chionglo’s Lauriana conflates state violence with domestic violence in a real-life tale set in 1950s Quezon, where a Philippine Constabulary member out to track down Huks in the province woos a beautiful local, beds her, and, over time, beats her to death out of extreme jealousy. The film works best as an anatomy of abuse, capturing the perfect recipe for domestic violence to happen: overly jealous macho man and martyr woman who rationalizes the abuse out of fear of and pity for the perpetrator. The unflinching portrayal of brutality is necessary to emphasize its devastating emotional effects on those who suffer and witness it.

Chito Roño’s Badil meticulously documents the inner workings of politicians’ barangay-level lackeys days before local elections, including vote-buying, vote suppression, harassment, and, if necessary, killing. It is that rare political thriller that refuses to abide by stock characterizations of evil politicians taking advantage of unblemished hoi polloi. The film shines a light on the age-old issue of patronage politics by zooming in on corruption at the grassroots level, away from the glare of “national” (read: Manila-centric) media.

Redemption is another subject shared by three films cited by the group. Armando Lao’s Dukit tells the story of a celebrated Kapampangan woodcarver who grows up resenting his father who left his family for a younger woman. Over time, the sculptor learns to forgive his father as he finds fulfillment in his work. The film employs an often entrancing observational documentary-style technique that masterfully cuts across three stories of three generations, crafting narratives of simple lives scarred by the past and healed by love and forgiveness.

Sari and Kiri Dalena’s The Guerilla Is a Poet recounts the story of writer and activist Jose Maria Sison during the turbulent years of Martial Law, from his capture in the mountains to his nine years of imprisonment and his birth as a poet. While Dukit features a non-actor portraying himself, the film is still a fictionalized story. The Guerilla Is a Poet, meanwhile, features interviews with the real Sison interspersed with dramatizations played by actors. While the film successfully captures the look of the period through ingenious cinematography and styling, the decision to include Sison’s interview snippets unfortunately cuts off the film’s momentum and makes it feel like an episodic televisual, rather than cinematic, output.

Peque Gallaga’s and Lore Reyes’ Sonata tells the story of a famous soprano who loses her voice and goes into a self-exile in the Visayas, befriends a young boy, and regains her life. The film, though technically well-made and features great performances, especially from Cherie Gil, is hobbled by a class-blind script that appears to be concerned more with trivial upper-class existentialist woes than with directly addressing the lopsided power relations between the elite and their servants.

The last four films deal with magic, the exploration of that mystical universe beyond the realm of science. In Frasco Mortiz’s Pagpag, a Filipino death superstition is turned into a seemingly run-of-the-mill cautionary tale that punishes the young for ignoring traditional rituals, yet, upon closer inspection expertly uses the horror genre to denounce mainstream society’s preoccupation with heterosexual unions and natural procreation while relegating to the sidelines alternative sexualities and family forms.

In Mes de Guzman’s Ang Kwento ni Mabuti, a faith healer in Nueva Vizcaya wrestles with a dilemma as she chances upon a bag full of money that could solve her current financial problems and would set a good future for her granddaughters. Deeply in tune with nature and the cosmos, she gets constantly confronted with what she divines as signs from the universe that tell her what to do with the blood-tainted money. Told in a simple yet whimsical style, the film achieves its status as a classic morality tale minus the moralizing.

Alvin Yapan’s Debosyon tells the tale of a young Bikolano farmer who falls in love with a mysterious mountain-dwelling woman who turns out to be the embodiment of the most significant women in Bikolandia’s myth and religion. The genius of the film is its idea of love as an all-encompassing, all-consuming act. It seems to be reminding us to love without conditions. If Oryol and Daragang Magayon and Our Lady of Peñafrancia are not inherently different from each other, we can all let go of our predilections to compartmentalize our emotions and actions based on society’s edicts. We can love our lovers the way we love our myths, our literature, our gods.

Lastly, YCC’s best film of 2013, Adolfo Alix Jr.’s Porno, tells three separate stories that are linked by the porn industry, from production (the illicit recording of lovers’ trysts in motels) to post-production (the dubbing of moans to match the undulations of bodies and degrees of arousal) to distribution (the transferring of files to discs and sold as “scandals” in sidewalks, or uploaded online to user-generated porn sites) and, finally, consumption. Alix and writer Ralston Jover, though, are interested not so much in the pornography process as in the individual stories of the three main characters (an assassin, a porn dubber, and a trans club performer), all of whom encounter the supernatural in different ways. The assassin gets assassinated by a satyr masquerading as a friend, the porn dubber is haunted by an online ghost, and the club performer is tricked by hallucinations of her son that she left behind. The film, immaculately designed and photographed, successfully creates a mood of mystery, undoubtedly aided by a script that suggests that the seemingly disparate stories are linked not only through pornography but through the main characters’ identities as well.

Aside from the 13 shortlisted films, YCC also cites three debut feature films that show much potential and promise for their directors. Angustia is Kristian Sendon Cordero’s intriguing evocation of the encounter between Catholicism and indigenous culture in 16^th century Philippines; Puti is Mike Alcazaren’s painterly yet eerie tribute to the Mike de Leon classic Itim, chronicling the nightmares of a counterfeit painter who turns color-blind after an accident; and Ang Turkey Man Ay Pabo Rin is Randolph Longjas’ hilarious skewering of Filipino-American romance.

All these films offer hope that Philippine cinema is worth celebrating even amid the glut of purely escapist mainstream fare. Mind, though, that independent cinema does not always equate to quality cinema. The group viewed and reviewed many independent films in 2013 and found many of them wanting in either technique or content, or both. While we are aware that our opinion on films is just but one of many, we continue to hope that our citations inspire filmmakers to keep on improving their craft.

Jaime Oscar M. Salazar

The process that leads to our Annual Citations is an arduous one, even setting aside the attendant logistical and administrative requirements of mounting the event. For the year ended 2014, we considered over 120 titles to form a long list of 7. Following a discussion of the artistic and technical merits and demerits of each film, a shortlist of five was produced; it is only from the shortlist, per long-established practice, that films can be nominated for any of our six award categories.

Amid these challenges, and cognizant as we are that the culture of awards is a severely debilitating one—perhaps especially in these parts—why then do we, the members of the Film Desk of the Young Critics Circle (YCC), carry on this annual exercise of conferring recognition upon what we believe to be distinguished achievements in Philippine film?

In keeping with the commitment of the body to bring into the analysis of film an approach that is not only interdisciplinary but also “young”, which is to say inflected with “the daring of the new and the courage to be different”, we arrived at and became members of YCC by way of different paths, but what we share together is a fervent investment in the possibilities of cinema, in its constitution of an expansive and fluxive horizon of social discourse, with and against which to negotiate human experience. Through our rites and writings, what we seek to cultivate and encourage, including among ourselves, is critical practice that diligently engages with, responds to, and invigorates film.

The deliberations that led to this year’s Citations proved historic: for the first time in its quarter-century of existence, the YCC named no nominee or winner for its Best Screenplay and Best Film categories. The outcome of procedures that we had agreed to follow, we stand firm by it—we would not at all prefer to resort prize-giving for its own sake, charges of obscurantism or obtuseness notwithstanding. Indicative of a house sharply divided, the result was, of course, surprising; upon reflection, however, it was also a heartening one, in that discourse can only be sustained by difference and debate. It is a moment certain to be revisited and pursued to the farthest possible end during future discussions, giving us fresh impetus to evaluate the critical tools at our disposal and how we wield them.

We take heed, in this regard, of the novelist Joyce Carol Oates, who was once given occasion to declare, “There can be no criticism for all time, nor even much time. Criticism is itself an art form, and like all art forms it must evolve, or atrophy and die.”

Aristotle Atienza

Tumutukoy ang Tunog at Orkestrasyong Awral sa paglalapat ng mga aspektong may kinalaman sa tunog sa pelikula, musika, likas na tunog, sound effects habang ang mga ito ay isinasalungat sa o inaayon sa lengguwahe ng mga imahen, at kung gayon ay nagiging makahulugang sistema ng pananagisag mismo.  Iginagawad ang Pinakamahusay na Tunog sa sound engineer at sa tagapaglapat ng musika.

Gasgas mang sabihing mahalaga ang papel ng tunog at musika sa pelikula, pero pansamantalang patahimikin ito, ilagay sa mute, malaki ang nababagong pananaw sa halagang ginagampanan ng tunog at musika sa pagtatakda ng kapaligiran ng eksena at sa daloy na idinaragdag nito sa paggalaw ng mga tauhan at sa pagtatagpi-tagpi ng mga eksena ng pelikula.  Matagumpay na naisasagawa ng anim na pelikulang binibigyan ng pagkilala sa kategorya ng tunog at orkestrasyong awral ang karaniwang gamit nito upang lagyan ng espasyo ang naririnig sa pagnanasang “matapat” na makapaglarawan ang mga imaheng nakikita.  Isa ay likha ng “maaasahang” industriya habang ang lima ay hinulma mula sa mga laylayan ng tinataguriang sineng indie na tinatangkang baguhin ang mga hanggahan ng naririnig nang nanunukat at naninimpla.

Kuwestiyon mismo ang naririnig at nagsasalita sa pelikulang Porno (Adolfo Alix) na nasa disenyo ng musika ni Albert Michael Idioma at tunog ni Ari Trofeo. Sa pelikulang Babagwa (Jason Paul Laxamana) malinaw ang natatanging panlabas na tunog bilang espasyong pantastiko sa ingay ng dumi at gulo ng urban sa Pampanga sa musika nina Lucien Letaba at Joseph Lansang at disenyo ng tunog ni Addiss Tabong.  Matatagpuan naman sa musika ni Carmina Cuya at disenyo ng tunog muli kay Addiss Tabong sa pelikulang Badil (Chito Roño) ang ingay ng panganib na sumusuporta sa pagtatangka ng pelikulang itanghal ang praktis ng eleksiyon sa isang isla sa Pilipinas.  Samantala, nananakop ang musika nina Teresa Barrozo at Jireh Pasano at tunog nina Ray Andrew San Miguel at Andrew Millalos upang manahan sa saklaw ng pangitaing binubuksan at isinasara ng pelikulang Debosyon (Alvin Yapan).  Sa musika at tunog ni Armando Lao sa pelikulang Dukit (Armando Lao), nagsasanib ang nanunuot na koro ng awiting relihiyoso sa relihiyosidad ng pag-ukit hindi lamang sa kahoy na nagiging sining kundi sa buhay na nagiging talambuhay.  Panghuli, abusado, dahil inaasahan, ang musika nina Francis Concio at saka ang tunog ni Arnel Labayo sa pelikulang Pagpag (Mortiz) na nagtutulak upang hindi seryosohin ang lagim ng familia de horror.

Pero sa huli, ibinibigay ang pagkilala sa Pinakamahusay na Tunog at Orkestrasyong Awral ng pelikulang taon 2013 kina Albert Michael Idioma para sa disenyo ng tunog at Ari Trofeo para sa tunog ng pelikulang Porno.  Hindi dahil sa dami at tindi ng eskandalosong ooh at aah sa pelikula na ikahihiya sa piling ng iba pang manonood sa sine o pahihinain naman sa oras ng sariling panonood kundi mismo sa pagbabalik ng pansin sa pagnanasa bilang konstruksyong nililikha rin ng tunog.  Hindi lamang pornograpiko ang biswal.  Dito pa lamang ay nagiging pagsubok na kung paano patitingkarin ang karanasan ng realidad sa pelikula lalo na sa detalyadong paglalarawan ng mga paggalaw sa siyudad, interior man o exterior.

Sina Albert Michael Idioma (kaliwa) at Ari Trofeo

Skilty Labastilla at JPaul Manzanilla

Sa genre ng horror, kinakailangang makuha ang simpatiya ng manonood upang makagaanang-loob nila ang mga pangunahing karakter at masabayan nila itong sumigaw, magulat, magulantang, at matakot kapag minumulto na sila o hinahabol na ng mga masasamang elemento kahit walang malakas na panggulat na tunog. Sa pelikulang Pagpag ni Frasco Mortiz, tagumpay na napagtagpi-ltagpi ng editor na si Jerrold Tarog ang mga kuha o shots at namuhunan ang manonood sa mga sinapit ng mga tauhang ginampanan nina Daniel Padilla at Kathryn Bernardo.

Maliming hinati ng Porno ni Adolfo Alix, Jr. ang mga kwento ng ugnayang sekswal upang mailahad ang natatanging kalagayan ng pagnanasa. Pinutol ang naratibo sa ilang piling akda ng libog at katuturan ng paghahangad. May tungkol sa magsing-irog na galing sa magkaibang lahi, dubber sa mga pornong pelikula, at tirador at puta (o babaeng nagbebenta ng laman). Maging ang mga pribadong bahagi ng katawan ay ipinakita upang bigyang-kahulugan at suriin ang danas ng pagnanasa.

Ginagawad ang parangal sa Pinakamahusay na Editing ng 2013 kina Jerrold Tarog para sa Pagpag at Aleks Castaneda para sa Porno.

Sina Jerrold Tarog (kaliwa sa kaliwang larawan) at Aleks Castañeda (kanan sa kanang larawan)

Jaime Oscar M. Salazar

Tinutukoy at kinikilala ng gawad na ito ang retorika ng pagsusulat para sa pelikula na nagpapahayag ng kasalimuotan ng buhay panlipunan o personal na ligalig sa natatanging estruktura ng naratibo o politikal na paniniwala; o sa pamamagitan ng pinag-isipang dramatikong tensiyon na sumisiyasat sa tunggalian ng personal at politikal, ng indibidwal at ng kolektibo, ng pribado at ng publiko.

Maliban sa nakakamit ng gawad, may pito pang pelikulang nominado para sa kategoryang ito: Akda ni Alvin Yapan, ang Mga Anino ng Kahapon ay itinatampok ang dinaranas ng isang babaeng may sakit pangkaisipan habang tinutukoy ang malalang karamdaman ng pambansang lipunan. Sa Babagwa, na isinulat ni Jason Paul Laxamana, ipinapakita ang pagkahulog ng isang Facebook hustler sa mga patibong na nakasanayan na niyang itakda para sa iba. Inilalantad sa Badil, na akda ni Rodolfo Vera, ang takbo ng korupsyon tuwing panahon ng halalan sa isang munting bayan sa baybaying-dagat ng Samar. Sa Debosyon, na isinulat din ni Yapan, mararamdaman ang pagdurusang hatid ng pag-ibig at pananampalataya sa isang lalaking deboto ng Birhen ng Peñafrancia. Akda nina Armado Lao at Mary Honelyn Joy Alipio, ang Dukit ay sinusundan ang buhay ng isang taga-ukit ng mga rebulto habang siya’y nakikipagbuno sa kanyang nakaraan. Sa Ang Kwento ni Mabuti, na isinulat ni Mes de Guzman, sinusuri ang pakikipagtunggali ng isang walang bahid-dungis na manggagamot sa tukso. Sinisiyasat ng Quick Change, na akda ni Eduardo Roy, Jr., ang ekonomiya ng kagandahan sa isang pamayanan ng mga transgender na babae.

Maging ano po ang kahusayan ng mga dulang pampelikulang nabanggit, nangingibabaw para sa amin ang Porno, na isinulat ni Ralston Jover. Gamit ang mga hibla ng pornograpiya, nagtatagumpay ang dulang pampelikulang ito sa paghabi ng kakatwa at kataka-takang tapiseryang inihahain at ginagalugad ang matitinik na daan sa pagitan ng lunggati at kamatayan.

Si G. Ralston Jover (kuha ni Jeffrey Bernardo Copiaco)

Aristotle Atienza

Kinikilala sa nakaraang pelikulang taon ang kagalingan sa disenyo ng tunog at musika ng mga pelikulang Dagitab (Gian Carlo Abrahan V) at Sonata Maria (Bagane Fiola).   Sa Dagitab, sa disenyo ng tunog nina Adam Newns at Mikko Quizon at musika ni Mon Espia, malinis ang pagtatangkang ilarawan ang krisis ng mag-asawa sa pagpili ng paaangating tunog (at kawalan nito) mula sa mga nakikita sa pelikula.  Samantala, sa Sonata Maria, magaspang ang mga naririnig, na nagsisiwalat hindi lamang sa vulnerability ng lokal na tauhan sa lokal na siyudad kundi ng lokal na pelikula mismo.  May kaibahan man ang pagtatanghal ng tunog at musika sa dalawang pelikula, epektibo pa ring naisasawika ang naririnig hindi lang dahil sa nakasanayang praktis ng pagpapatunog na likha rin ng mga pagbabago sa teknolohiya ng paghuli nito kundi ang pagtatangkang patingkarin ito sa pamamagitan ng pagtitimpi sa kaso ng Dagitab o paglalaro sa kaso ng pelikulang Sonata Maria.

Iginagawad ang Pinakamahusay na Tunog at Orkestrasyong Awral kina Maki Serapio sa disenyo ng tunog, Wrap Meting at Mark Limbaga sa tunog pamproduksiyon, at Jad Montenegro sa musika para sa pelikulang Sonata Maria.  Hindi dahil sa Sonata at mas lalong hindi rin dahil sa Maria o sa Sonata Maria na pangalan ng banda sa pelikula, kundi dahil sa napatutunayan ang mabisang papel ng tunog at musika upang pagdugtungin ang mga hindi inaasahang ugnayang kinunan sa magkakaibang panahon.  Mahusay na napanghawakang gawing sariwa ang gasgas na tunog ng siyudad upang ilantad ang pagtahak ng tauhan sa pagbibihis ng siyudad.  Sa hindi inaasahang paglalaro sa musika ni Bach (hindi kakatwang nanlalaro o nanloloko ang pagpapakahulugan ng badinerie), at ng musika ng karnabal, nagkakaroon ng tekstura ang naririnig at napapakinggan upang maipadanas din ang parehong kabaliwan at katinuan, pantasya at realidad, nitong bernakular na modernidad.

Clockwise from top left: Maki Serapio, Jad Montenegro, Wrap Meting, Mark Limbaga

Tessa Maria Guazon

Ang pinakamahusay na editing ay tumutukoy sa konpigurasyon ng mga ugnayan ng panahon at espasyo sa mga eksena sa isang pelikulang may kakayahang maglagom, makitunggali, bumuo at bumaklas ng mga pagkakaugnay, sa pamamagitan ng masalimuot na paggamit ng mise-en-scene at montage. Ang tropeo para sa pinakamahusay na Editing ay pinagkakaloob sa mga editor.

Nominado para sa pinakamahusay na editing sa taong 2014 sina Benjamin Tolentino para sa mga pelikulang Mariquina at Dagitab, sina Cha Escala at Bam Luneta para sa dokumentaryong Nick & Chai, at si Bagane Fiola para sa pelikulang Sonata Maria.

Madamdamin ang kuwentong sinundan ng kamera sa Nick & Chai. Taimtim ang kamera sa pagsunod sa pang-araw araw na buhay ng mag-asawang Ferdinand at Doris. Wari’y normal ang kanilang buhay ngunit malaon ay malalaman nating nalunod ang apat nilang anak nuong bagyong Yolanda sa Tacloban. Puspos man ng dalamhati ang kuwentong sandigan ng dokumentaryo, nagtagumpay ang mga editor ng Nick & Chai na ilapat ang lungkot at trahedya sa maigting na mensahe ng katatagan at pagpupunyaging pumalaot sa buhay. Walang dramatikong elemento para bigyang kulay at lalim ang kanilang dalamhati bagkus mga epektibong gamit ng ‘screen shot’ mula sa cell phone ng mag-asawa o kaya’y mga album ng litratong naiwan sa bahay.

Mahusay na inilapat ni Bagane Fiola ang dalawang mundong nagsasalimbayan sa buhay ng pangunahing karakter sa Sonata Maria. Ito ay ang mga hulagway sa kaisipan at ang sa wari niya’y walang saysay na realidad. Iisa ang hugis ng mga mundong ito, makulay at puno ng mga hindi inaasahang pangyayari. Inilahad ito ng Sonata Maria sa paraang kapana-panabik, mapaglaro, ngunit mapagtanong at mausisa. Gamit ang editing, isinabuhay ng pelikula ang lantay na kapangyarihan ng imahinasyon na mapagtunton ang kabuluhan ng mga bagay-bagay.

Masinop ang editing ni Benjamin Tolentino para sa Dagitab at Mariquina. Lagom at akma ang setting at pace sa pagusad ng naratibo sa parehong pelikula. Epektibong ginamit ang lunan bilang tagapagtawid ng kuwento at ng buhay ng mga karakter nito. Bagama’t makikita ang galing ng editor sa parehong gawa, mas angat ito sa Mariquina.

Masinop na hinabi ang mga eksenang tumutukoy sa nakaraan sa kasalukuyang buhay ng pangunahing tauhang si Imelda sa pelikula. Malikhaing nilikom pati ang mga pangyayari mula sa tatlong dekada sa mga eksenang sinusundan ang paghahanda ni Imelda sa libing ng namatay niyang amang si Romeo. Patunay dito ang paggamit ng video footage o ang balitang maririnig sa transistor radio, pati mga usapan sa telepono.

Ang paghahanap ni Imelda ng pares ng sapatos na isusuot ng ama habang nakalagak sa kabaong ay halintulad sa kanyang pagbabalik sa masalimuot na nakaraan ng pamilya at kanyang pagkabata. Bagama’t ang paghahanap ay balot ng lumbay, saklaw nito ang mas malawak na pagbabago: ang unti-unting pagkalugi ng negosyo ng sapatos ni Romeo, ang pagbaha ng angkat ng mas murang sapatos mula sa Tsina, ang EDSA ng 1986, at ang pagpupunyagi ng mga tauhan ng naratibo ng pelikula.

Iginagawad ng Young Critics Circle Film Desk ang pinakamahusay na editing kay Ginoong Benjamin Tolentino para sa pelikulang Mariquina.

Benjamin Tolentino and stills from Mariquina

JPaul S. Manzanilla

Ang sinematograpiya at disenyong biswal ay tumutukoy sa mise-en-scene at sa mga kalidad nitong biswal/plastik disenyong pamproduksiyon, pag-iilaw, direksiyon ng sining, visual effects na nagbibigay anyo sa anumang representasyon na inilalantad sa telon; at ikinikintal ang pagsasaanyo ng mga puwersang panlipunan at mga kultura sa mga sandali ng kontradiksiyon, pagsasanib, enkwentro, pagtatagpo, pakikipagtunggali o pagkakaugnay sa bawat isa. Ipinagkakaloob ang Pinakamahusay na Sinematograpiya at Disenyong Biswal sa sinematograper at sa taga-disenyo ng produksiyon.

Maraming nominado para sa pinakamahusay na Sinematograpiya at Disenyong Biswal para sa taong 2013. Sila ay ang mga sumusunod: Mga Anino ng Kahapon, Dexter dela Peña at Jan Tristan Pandy (Sinematograpiya), Whammy Alcazaren (Disenyong Biswal), Frances Grace Mortel at Rita Vargas (Art Direction), Phyllis Grae Grande (Set Decoration); Badil, Neil Daza (Sinematograpiya), Jayvee Taduran (Disenyong Biswal), at Donald Camon (Art Direction); Debosyon, Dexter dela Peña (Sinematograpiya), Roy Dominguiano at Pat Noveno (Art Direction), Dennis Corteza and Paolo Rey Mendoza Piaña (Disenyong Biswal), Omar Aguilar (Visual Effects); Dukit, Triztan Garcia, Bruno Tiotuico, Jeffrey Icawat, and Diego Dobles (Sinematograpiya), Leo Abaya at Olga Marquez (Disenyong Biswal); The Guerrilla Is a Poet, Kiri Dalena (Sinematograpiya) at Sari Dalena (Disenyong Biswal); Ang Kwento ni Mabuti, Albert Banzon (Sinematograpiya), Cesar Hernando at Mes de Guzman (Disenyong Biswal); Pagpag, David Diaz-Abaya (Sinematograpiya), Luis Custodio IV (Disenyong Biswal), Daren Francis Raña (Visual Effects); Porno, Albert Banzon (Sinematograpiya), Adolfo Alix, Jr. (Disenyong Biswal), Bobet Lopez (Art Direction); Quick Change, Dan Villegas (Sinematograpiya) at Harley Alcasid (Disenyong Biswal); Sonata, Mark Gary (Sinematograpiya), Emilio Montelibano, Jr. (Disenyong Biswal), Richard Francia (Visual Effects)

Pinagtuunan ng pansin ng Mga Anino ng Kahapon ang mga pinto, saraduhan, bakod, at iba pang mga espasyo ng pagsasara bilang hulagway ng estado ng pagkakakulong sa panahon ng Batas Militar. Ang mental na ligalig ay nagsisilbing alingawngaw ng tunggalian ng mga puwersang politikal.

Tila nakikiangkas ang mga manonood sa pagtalunton ng Badil sa pasikot-sikot na larangan ng kampanya sa isang bayan. Mamamasdan na ang korupsyon ay hindi lamang nanggagaling sa taas o ibaba kundi, gaya ng ipinakita ng mukha ng isang kandidato na nakaplasta sa t-shirt, ay laging naroroon at umiikot sa buong paligid hanggang mapasok ang kaibuturan ng pribadong buhay at ugnayan.

Nakahahalina ang pagtatampok ng relihiyon at mitolohiya sa Debosyon. Naging makulay at malambing ang pagpapakita ng bayan, gubat, nayon, at bundok na bumubuhay at pinagtutunggalian ng kolonyal, relihiyoso, at katutubong paniniwala sa isang kalupaang sintanda ng pagmamahal at pananampalataya.

Ang pamamaraang verite ng Dukit ay mataimtim na nakukuha ang mga detalye at mga kalakaran ng pag-uukit sa Betis, Pampanga. Ang malikhaing pag-eestilo ng tatlong magkakaibang henerasyon ay epektibong nadadala ang mga manonood sa biyahe ng pagkakasala, pagpapatawad, at pagliligtas.

Sa The Guerilla is a Poet naman, ang kalupaan at kaligiran ng rebolusyon ay buhay na buhay mula pamantasan hanggang kanayunan. Maiibigan ang pagtalunton sa mga ilog, sapa, at bundok sa pelikula habang ang paggamit ng mga litrato at panayam ay nagtatampok sa katotohanan at kasaysayan ng pakikibakang matagalan ngunit matulain at malikhain din.

Sinikap ng Ang Kuwento ni Mabuti na maibahagi ang salaysay ng isang manggagamot sa isang lugar na napakalayo sa sentro, kaunti ang tao, wala halos pag-unlad, at tila wala nang magaganap pa. Ang kamay, paa, mukha, ang mga mata lalo na, at pati ang katawan ng tao at heograpiya ay lubos na pinagtuunan ng pansin upang makapagkuwento ng alinlangan sa kung ano nga ba ang mabuti sa kaibuturan ng tao.

Ang hilakbot ng paghahabol ng multo sa mga buhay ay masusing ipinakita ng Pagpag. Mula sa taas, sa gilid, sa ibaba, at sa kung anong sulok pa ay ipinakita ng kamera kung paano tila minumulto din ang mga manonood dahil hindi nila maipagpag ang sumusunod sa kanila bunga ng hindi maiwaksing paniniwala sa pamilya at pag-ibig.

Magkaalinsabay na nakamamangha at nakababagabag ang pagtunghay sa ugnayang sekswal sa Porno. Pinakikita maging ang mga pribadong katawan sa pagtatalik at idinurugtong ang pornograpiya sa biswal na imahe at tunog sa mga danas ng kawalan, kalungkutan, paghahanap, at takot.

Malupit na itinanghal ng Quick Change ang kapangitan at sakit ng pagbabagong-anyo upang magkaroon at/o mapanatili ang kagandahan. Sinundan ang mga pribadong sandali at pinasok ang mga ilegal at bawal na aktibidad upang sa huli’y maipakita lamang na pangmatagalan ang pagdurusa sa mabilisang pagbabagong inaasam.

Ang matingkad ng kapaligiran ng hacienda ng asukal sa Negros ay matalasik na pinag-iba sa lamlam ng buhay ng isang sopranong nawalan ng boses sa Sonata. Sa pagkakapatapon matatagpuan ang sariling mabibigyang-sigla muli at mahuhubdan ang pagpapanggap ng pagkatao ng simpleng bata na may simpleng buhay, upang sa huli’y mawala lamang ito.

Ngunit ang nagwagi ng pinakamahusay na sinematograpiya at disenyong biswal ay ang Lauriana. Masinop ang pelikula sa paggamit ng mga damit, bagay, at tahanan upang maabot ang nawala nang dekada 50 at 70. Sa pamamagitan ng mga mata ng isang bata ay nasaksihan natin ang maalab, marupok, at malupit na pag-iibigan ng isang sundalo at dalaga sa probinsya. Para bang kinulayan ng sepia ang buong pelikula na lubos na nagtatanghal sa pagkapako nito sa nakaraan na siya namang binalanse ng pagtalon sa kasalukuyan upang maiparating ang trauma ng karahasan.

Iniimbitahan sina Nap Jamir, cinematographer, at Edgar Martin Littaua, production designer, upang tanggapin ang pagkilala at magbigay ng kanilang talumpati.

Sina G. Nap Jamir (kaliwa) at G. Edgar Martin Littaua