Tag: Philippines

About Us But Not About Us

Posted on by Jeremy Clarke

[dropca[]A[/dropcap]n older man meets a younger man in a restaurant. Both are gay. The older man, Eric (Romnick Sarmenta), has recently lost his longtime partner Marcus (who we never see… well, not exactly) while the younger man Lance (Elijah Canlas) knew Marcus as his writing tutor, both elder men working as professors at the English language faculty of the university at which Lance is a student.

As the narrative plays out in real time, it moves through a number of difficult areas. Lance was having problems at home; specifically, being beaten by his stepfather, so Eric intervened by letting Lance stay at his place, bringing upon the pair rumours that they were lovers (although everything in the restaurant conversation suggests those rumours to be unfounded). It later transpires that Lance has written his first novel. When Lance presents the manuscript to Eric, Eric accuses Lance of plagiarism after reading the first few pages when Lance walks offscreen for a minute or two to take a toilet break.

Director Lana deploys a variety of theatrical and cinematic tricks in order to make the piece work. He has thought a lot about where to place the camera, and what each specific shot contributes to the whole. He deploys some bravura cinematic tricks. A clever combination of blocking, camera positioning and Lance cleaning his spectacles lenses allows Lance to temporarily transform into Marcus; a similar setup allows Eric talking to Lance to transform into Marcus talking to Lance, all acheived without lap dissolves, traditional flashback techniques, different actors or prosthetics makeup.

Whereas Hitchcock undertook Rope (1948) as a kind of stunt, which still delivered as a thriller, About Us But Not About Us doesn’t have any such genre trappings. It’s fundamentally a film about two people talking over a meal in a restaurant, something Hitch would have decried as “photographs of people talking”. To be fair, it does contain some bravura cinematic tricks, but somehow those look like trickery rather than enhancing the tale of the characters and making the audience feel for their plight. I, for one, didn’t really care about what the characters were going through. Unlike Rope, the film lacks Hitch’s understanding of the psychology of audiences.

Although no masks are worn, the pair are only allowed a 90 minutes because of the restaurant’s post-COVID policies and characters make references to the pandemic throughout. That’s not the subject of the film per se, but it’s good that it at least acknowledges the pandemic in passing when so many movies seem to want to pretend it never happened, that it’s business as usual. Whatever my other opinions of the film, this, at least, is something in its favour.

About Us But Not About Us premieres in the 26th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.

Apparition (Aparisyon)

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

Cloisters, by their very nature, are cut off from the rest of the world. People of faith live there in order to dedicate themselves in service to God without being encumbered by the problems of the modern world. Yet, as governments and countries change, even the most secluded of us find themselves caught up in the events of history.

Isabel Sandoval’s film Apparition takes place in the Philippines, 1971, just before President Ferdinand Marcos devastates the country by putting it under Martial Law. We start as Sister Lourdes (Jodi Sta. Maria) makes her way to the convent, finding herself lost in a dense thicket of trees. Then, like in so many convent-based dramas, we are introduced to the many practices of this space, which functions as a universe unto itself, with its own codes and laws. They seem untouchable, solely dedicated to the Lord.

But Ferdinand Marcos has other ideas. The leader turned dictator of the Philippines is never seen but often heard, speaking on the radio in English as he calmly asserts power over the country, setting into course a series of events that will change the fabric of the nation forever, and even encroach upon this self-contained world.

It’s an interesting choice for Locarno’s Open Doors selection — finding the best cinema South East Asia and Mongolia has to offer— which has barely any new feature films this year, as it resembles, in both tone and content, the Argentinian drama of Maternal. Yet where the much stronger Maternal had an strongly-established aesthetic, using a lot of natural light to match, a lot of Apparition looks cheaply shot, with a strange blue filter used to dampen the striking look of the women’s habits.

Characters are often held at a remove, playing rigid roles (the stern Mother Superior, the Rebellious Friend) instead of being complex people in their own right. The central thesis point is finely drawn, especially by the way this feminine world is violently violated, but it cannot seem to amount to more than just academic criticism, further stressed by the Antonio Gramsci quote (“The old is dying and the new cannot be born. In this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear’) that opens the film. Additionally, the pivotal event of the movie is repeated from different angles, showing us how all the nuns are complicit in letting it happen. While sometimes this technique can work, little is revealed here that we didn’t already know, making it a somewhat superfluous filmmaking gesture.

With the Marcos Family still holding considerable sway in the Philippines, as shown in The Kingmaker, the message of Apparition — to speak up when power, both patriarchal and political, is being abused — rings as true as ever. But for a real understanding of how things can go wrong, that documentary, also available online, is a far more intriguing and urgent document.

Apparition plays as part of the Locarno Film Festival’s Open Doors segment, running online between August 5-15. Just click here in order to watch it.

Quezon’s Game

Posted on by victorfraga

WARNING: THIS REVIEW MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

In every large genocide, there are those who drive the horrors, while others watch it. Then there are the few who fight against it. Philippines president Manuel L. Quezon was one such rebel, cast as he was in a role of saving the lives of 1,200 Jewish people. Closing the 1930’s, Quezon (played by the irrepressibly handsome Raymond Bagatsing) countered the battles that surrounded the world with his own battles of a relapsed tuberculosis.

I’m reminded of Stanley Kubrick. Although a lifelong friend of Schindler’s List director Steve Spielberg, Kubrick’s disdain for the 1993 WW2 epic was palpable. “Think that’s about the Holocaust?” the American director famously roared. “That was about success, wasn’t it? The Holocaust is about six million people who get killed. Schindler’s List (1993) is about 600 who don’t.” A celebration of altruism has every reason to resonate as a Holocaustian picture, and that’s exactly what Matthew Rosen does here.

Aurora Quezon (Rachel Alejandro) plays the silent, doting wife in a parade of German/American army uniforms. Not exactly a celebration of powerful women, but instead a celebration of human survival. Bagatsing plays Quezon. He has a schmoozing, boozing raconteur, swathing his conversations with future US president Dwight E. Eisenhower (David Bianco) through cigarette-lit conversations. Finding refuge for his Jewish refugees wasn’t difficult; providing them with US visas proved more taxing. In time honoured tradition, Quezon entertains his guests with ballroom swings and delectable selections of choice women, while taking a solemn moment to ponder his mortality. The cameras roll nicely off Bagatsing, dressed as he is in a number of lucid white suits, never a button, lace or tie under pressure.

The picture is dazzlingly well filmed. Opening up on Quezon and hiw wife reeling over reels of concentration camps, the 1944 montage echoes the grey, dirty films the married couple watch. Suddenly, the film pirouettes back to 1938, riding through the cobbled streets to decorate the Philippines in all of its Technicoloured majesty. And then there’s the shocking final shot, caught as he is in a wheelchair that will roll Quezon to his untimely death.

Quezon ponders to himself how many more he could have saved, in good Schindler’s style, before Jewish singer Shulem closes the film’s credits with a soaring ballad espousing the many he did save. What sounds like a garish number from the 1980s actually works elegantly in the film.

However horrific and dreadful the Holocaust was, it is essential to remember the good that was done amongst the mass evil committed. In a time of political uncertainty and upheaval, audience members need to remember there is always hope.

Quezon’s Game is in cinemas on Friday, January 31st.

The Kingmaker

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

There’s one word you never hear in documentary The Kingmaker: “sorry”. Profiling the rise and fall and potential rise again of Imelda Marcos — former First Lady to the brutal dictator Ferdinand Marcos — it’s quite extraordinary that she still can’t see the consequences of her actions. This is a woman who assumes that she has done nothing wrong, determined to restore her family to their former glory.

Lauren Greenfield follows her for three years, providing a mixture of historical footage, talking heads and fly-on-the-wall campaigning as her son Bong Bong runs for Vice President. The result is truly compelling; kind of like The Act of Killing (Joshua Oppenheimer, 2013) without the catharsis, a deadly warning that vast amounts of money has the ability to wipe away the sins of the past.

It begins with Imelda driving around the slums of Manila, handing out wads of cash to begging children and mothers. They know her by name, suggesting that this is a common occurrence. She later visits a children’s hospital built during her husband’s administration and complains that it looks nothing like it used to be. She hands out more money to mothers with dying children. The self-proclaimed “mother” of the Philippines and the world, the late octogenarian wants to be in charge of the country again. The question is how much cash should be handed out to make this a reality.

You’d think she’d know when to shy away from the limelight. Ferdinand established a deadly coup in the early 70s to consolidate power, killing thousands of people and torturing thousands more. Meanwhile, the family plundered the wealth of the country, holding the Guinness World Record for Greatest Robbery of a Government. She was a great believer in beautiful things, dubbed the “Marie Antoinette” of the Philippines due to her love of extravagant jewellery and her collection of over 3,000 shoes. Still, if you have vast wealth, anything can be possible. With the Marcos’ fortune estimated to be around $30 billion, and many in the country nostalgic for Ferdinand’s administration, they still possess the immense power to get things done.

The Kingmaker

Lauren Greenfield has scored a real coup here. Simply put, you’re unlikely to see a more fascinating subject interviewed all year. She would be a sympathetic figure if all you heard was her side of the story, yet Greenfield needfully speaks truth to power: she allows Marcos to say what she pleases, undercutting her lies by bringing in the testimony of activists, journalists and opposing politicians. It is the very opposite of Oliver Stone’s The Putin Interviews (2017), which albeit fascinating in their own way, inadvertently made the Russian leader seem even stronger. The depressing part is that nothing in this film will actually make a difference; it only lets us observe as the country struggles in vain to stop history from repeating itself.

And it probably will: Bong Bong narrowly missed the Vice Presidency in 2016 by just 0.64% of the vote to Leni Robredo. He appears to be a nice man, but he still cannot find a way to apologise for his father’s actions, even venerating him as a great figure. Yet they have an ace in their pocket with strongman Rodrigo Duterte’s presidency, which was partly funded by their money. Duterte and his Vice President Rebredo — who was elected separately — do not get on, with him stating that he wants Bong Bong to be Vice President with the expectation he will step down and let Bong Bong replace him. In The Kingmaker, the raw power of money has rarely looked so strong.

The Kingmaker is out in cinemas across the UK on Friday, December 13th. On VoD in March.

Kalel, 15

Posted on by victorfraga

QUICK SNAP: LIVE FROM THE TALLINN BLACK NIGHTS FILM FESTIVAL

At the age of just 15, Kalel (Elijah Canlas) does not have it easy. He has to face a very premature adulthood. He drinks, he smokes, he takes heavy drugs, he has a girlfriend, he has to contend with violent thugs at school, plus a witchy mother and careless sister at home, in a busy lower middle-class neighbourhood somewhere in the Philippines. Plus, he has been diagnosed with HIV.

This is a harsh and cruel society almost entirely devoid of altruism. No one is supportive of Kalel. His tactless father – who happens to be the local priest – asks whether he has been “bum-fucked”. His mother is far more concerned about her well-endowed new lover, a married a man called Mon. His sister is also devoted to her new boyfriend. Screaming, slapping, punching and menacing body language are the main currency, even at home. Gestures of affection are few and far between.

The institutions are equally broken. The nun at his Catholic school endorses violence, while the local doctor does little more than offer ointment for treating the skin rashes that are quickly spreading all over Kalel’s body. Most Westerners will know that these are symptoms of full-blown Aids, yet both Kalel and his doctor seem unaware of the gravity of the disease. Antiretroviral therapy is nowhere to be seen. At the end of the movie, we learn that the number of people infected with HIV in the Philippines has grown by 170% between 2010 and 2017. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. A lot of people remain undiagnosed because they fear the widespread and overwhelming stigma associated with the disease. This is a society unprepared and downright unwilling to support the most vulnerable people.

The movie is never concerned whether Kalel is indeed gay and how he became infected. That’s entirely irrelevant to the narrative.

Jun Roble Lana’s 15th feature was clearly made on a shoestring budget. The images are black and white and the frame is a very unusual square (instead of the more conventional 16:9 and 5:4). This is not a handicap. In fact, the movie is teeming with spontaneity and frankness. It’s also profoundly disturbing, and there is no message of hope. It does, however, successfully raise awareness of a very disturbing phenomenon. While HIV infections are under control in most of Europe, there is a very fast-growing epidemic in this Asian nation.

Kalel, 15 is showing in Competition at the 23rd Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival. A very audacious addition. DMovies are live at the event as special guests.

K’Na Dreamweaver

Posted on by victorfraga

K‘na (Mara Lopez) finds herself trapped in an undesirable dilemma, as she has to balance realising her personal dreams with her duties as a village dream-weaver. Chosen by her town-folk to fill the vacant position, K’na is freighted with delivering visions through colourful abaca fibres. Tied to the boughs that hold her village afloat, K’na fancies the courtship from the broad-shouldered Silaw (RK Bagatsing), before Royal duties divide her impressionable intentions from her personal. The tribes follow tradition with the punishing reverence of survival, but K’na and Silaw share some moments of unbridled flirtation. Animalistic in their desire, their collegiality needs to be subdued.

In a pastoral pillowed story, the naturalistic setting suits the dogma narrative on display. Director Ida Anita Del Mundo’s work recalls the spiritual chronicles Martin Scorsese detailed in hieratic Kundun (1997) and the sacramental Silence (2017), though it lacks the directorial interpolations Scorsese steeped into the decelerated epics. What the film offers are moments of stark provincial reflection as the film opens with a mother dying with the baby she pushes to life. Harrowing, the mood devastates the surroundings, as K’na surrounds herself in the duties she is groomed to follow. A strong command of story makes up for the stiff visual content, much of it annoyingly soft focused on the indigenous Tboli family.

They are a family who deserve better film treatment, powerful as they are in the wars they fight with their rivals. K’na, in her new found position, has the opportunity to bring peace to a land that has seen little of it. In an intense, fierce, personal drama put across by an outstanding lead from Lopez, viewers are led on a journey summoned its unwillingness to pin itself down to one aspect of the character’s dilemma. In a battle so wedged in sorrow and love, K’na must decide between marrying for duty or love. The battle scenes, sloppy in their choreography, pale in their ambition to Lopez’s stellar acting as she winces in combustible agony, unbeknownst to her nuclear family.

Outside the wooden houses, a solitary camera floats over a deluge of water waded greenery, Lake Sebu’s rural majesty simmering under the wooden paddles that sail her. In a drapery of natural shots, the surrounding collage of the Philippines contrasts the pain K’na feels. Willowy, wooden and unworried, the scenery keeps the viewer’s eye afloat just as Lopez keeps it memorable.

K’Na Dreamweaver shows on Saturday, October 12th at the Soas Brunei Theatre. Just click here in order to book your ticket!