Kiddie Pool Shallow
by Don Jaucian

Sosy Problems (2012)
D: Andoy Ranay
S: Solenn Heusaff, Heart Evangelista, Bianca King, Rhian Ramos, Ruffa Gutierrez, Tim Yap, Cherie Gil, Agot Isidro, Bea Binene, Mylene Dizon, Aljur Abrenica

There are a lot of things that come into play when you consider Sosy Problems’s intentions. It knows that it’s silly, it exaggerates things so that everything in its world of make-believe can fall into place, and it’s smart enough to know that it’s running on a ridiculous storyline. To put some sort of a humanist slant, the story is centered on an attempt to save a polo club, which has been a hangout for generations of rich people, including the four leads, from being turned into a “yaya mall” (“Don’t get us wrong, we love our yayas but there are already so many malls they can hang out already,” someone says) by its newly rich owner (an over the top Dizon), a former cashier of the polo club who married a wealthy Chinese businessman. The rest of the movie deals with the half-assed stories of each of the four girls trying to outgrow their privileged upbringing.

It’s a slant that’s supposed to make this more bearable, like all the charity work that we hear all the rich people say they do to “give back to the community.” But here, it’s made out to be an afterthought. The girls do good but it doesn’t seem earned at all. The end is just there to resolve the tangle of plots involving the four main characters, Margaux (Heusaff), Claudia (Evangelista), Danielle (King), and Lizzie (Ramos).

The glaring flaw of Sosy Problems is that it sounds and looks unfinished. Apparently, the film still had a few days of shooting but was wrapped up prematurely or else it wouldn’t have made the deadline of the Metro Manila Film Festival (MMFF). The film’s producers decided that the film that they had was already good enough. This explains why the audio is bad (for instance, only one or two characters are audible where four speaking characters are on screen), the editing is clumsy, and there are a lot of plot developments that just come out of nowhere. It’s unfortunate because the film has a lot of potential, given that the upper class (or in this case, the “super duper upper class”) has been put in the cinematic spotlight in the wake of films like Ang Nawawala (What Isn’t There), The Animals, and Give Up Tomorrow. Sosy Problems ends up like a loose cannon, weighed down by its paltry treatment of the subject and all the mini-stories set up for each of the main characters, who are all embroiled in different types of first-world problems.

Various plotlines occur within the film’s limited time frame and each transition happens awkwardly, as if the story just makes itself up as it goes along. It can be distracting, especially when there is really nothing to hold on to. But the film’s saving grace, in its incomplete state, is the performances of the lead actresses, particularly Ramos and Heusaff, who seem in on this silliness. Gil, Isidro, and Dizon play caricatures and throw in the necessary campy lines that the trailer promised. But all this pa-witty and pa-ironic lines seem more like necessary kolorete to pump up the film, so as not to be overtaken by the gloss and the glamour showered on the girls’ styling (courtesy of Daryl and Andre Chang).

Sosy Problems turns out like one of the Class AAA bags that its characters abhor. It’s good-looking and promising, but it’s actually a low-grade replica of a wittier film (in print maybe). People may recognize the film’s crux as pettiness, but it actually draws out socio-political implications that go beyond the sheen of handbags, sprawling country clubs, and bling. This is where Sosy Problems could have gone deeper, subtler even, but its material isn’t up for that kind of responsibility.

Bring Me the Head of Jestoni Biag
by Don Jaucian

Posas (Shackled, 2012)
D: Lawrence Fajardo
S: Nico Antonio, Art Acuna, Jake Macapagal, Susan Africa

Intent on exposing the grime and the sweltering underbelly of Manila, Law Fajardo takes us to Quiapo in Posas. Quiapo holds a strange mix of fanatical reverence and repulsiveness, a reservoir of crooks, fortune tellers, and religious devotees. It becomes a playground for small-time thieves like Jestoni Biag (Nico Antonio), who play Robin Hood to their families by pickpocketing phones and selling them to sidewalk vendors for a fraction of their market price. It’s a way of life that’s already embedded in the narrow walkways of Quiapo, an unwritten truth that should appear in the margins of every Manila guidebook. But a fateful turn will find Jestoni robbed of his freedom and even the sound of the jail doors being unlocked will mean a harsher life ahead.

Posas unravels a tangled web of corruption that exists in our society in different degrees. Its characters make up the stock of its stereotypical world that burns with the myth of the bad cop that gives law enforcement the worst rap conceivable. There’s Grace (Bangs Garcia), the victim who wants to get her iPhone back lest an incriminating video showing her with a married lover turn into a viral video, and there’s the Kingpin police figure Inspector Domingo (menacingly portrayed by Art  Acuña), whose office is as rife with criminals as the inside of the jailhouse is. His officers make a pass on Grace while straddling themselves with authoritarian and bureaucratic limitations, and as they crack Jess open (both literally and figuratively), the slogan “To serve and protect” that lines their vehicles dissolve into a puddle of words devoid of any of its original virtues.

Fajardo follows a procedural so tedious it becomes a long winding descent much like a day at any government agency. The film relies too much on its expose but never delves deeper into the depths of the moral bankruptcy it readily presents. Bursts of energy spike the film (like the intense chase scene in the streets of Quiapo), but they are never enough to flesh out the dark world that Fajardo has been so keen in exploring.

While it’s unfair to compare Posas with Fajardo’s better-received Amok, it’s the latter’s intense meditation on a world gone wrong that also forms the crux of the former. It’s Amok’s fractured build-up that has made it such a thrilling ride, never mind its terse scrutiny that has all been done before. This is something that Posas lacks. Its tale is something we have all been familiar with and have been told in different forms. 

It’s only Art Acuña’s Domingo that brings the nightmarish atmosphere into the film. Here is a man who goes through the loopholes of the system, tying ends for his nefarious ways. His case casts a greater evil that exists in the background of the film: voices that orchestrate crimes at the other end of the line. It’s this truth that makes Posas a compelling look into the chaos that surrounds us: that there is a bear trap lying in the seediest parts of the city, waiting for us to take a wrong turn so it could introduce us to a new circle of hell. 

Beat Generation
by Don Jaucian

The Animals (2012)
D: Gino M. Santos
C: Albie Casino, Patrick Sugui, Dawn Balagot

There’s this particular feeling of dread that sticks with you minutes after The Animals shuts off with its parting shot. Singled out, it’s tabloid fodder, an image that claws into the shinier parts of the mind. The camera slowly climbs up until it wipes out what was left of an 80-minute downward spiral: a clusterfuck of drugs, booze, vomit, thieving, hazing, and beer-bottle smashing, all wrapped up in the allure of underage revelry.

Freshly minted from film school, Gino M. Santos assimilates his experiences from organizing parties to The Animals’s adventures in high living. Kids lurch out of their chauffeured vehicles, given crisp 500- and 1000-peso bills as ‘party allowance’ (the sound of money being handed out is annoyingly real as if to draw out the distinction of money between the rich and the poor), and sent off into a jungle freak world that gets snarlier as new batches of students pour in.

This class distinction is refreshing for a Cinemalaya film. It has certainly been a long time since we’ve seen a film about rich snobs in their gated communities and self-governing homeowners association. And if such a film is to be made, why not filter it through the perspective of the kids? Holed up in their sandboxes, Jake (Albie Casino), Alex (Patrick Sugui), and Trina (Dawn Balagot) are prototypes of a generation shaped by an ADD-fied media whose ideas of a good time spin off from party rockin’ to Jersey Shore/Skins ideations. This ritual of adolescence is what fascinates Santos, and he builds up on this without grand spectacles or speechifying. What he gives us is a succession of scenes that make up a parent’s worst nightmare.

The Animals still needs a bit more polishing though. The cinematography shifts in various scenes and some shots feel a bit misplaced. Its fangs aren’t even as sharp as it thinks they are. The “wild side” it touts in its tagline is mild to certain standards and often deftly anchored upon the piercing gaze of parental control. Authority figures are present, reinforcing the difference of our upbringing in contrast to our Western counterparts’. But there’s enough fucked up images constantly reminding you that you’re watching the country’s first R-16 film. 

The Animals is a harrowing cautionary tale of teenage dysfunction. There’s no suspension of disbelief needed; it’s as straightforward as a horror film can get. You know these kids, they surround you, and they’re the insistent force that will soon shape our future. 

Pinoy Romcoms: Straight from the Garbage Can 
by Don Jaucian

In Every Breath U Take, Star Cinema has finally tossed the meat its audience has been rabidly anticipating for quite some time: Piolo Pascual’s abs. Given the right circumstances, the response should have been as enthusiastic as Angelica Panganiban’s squeals of joy upon grazing her hands on Piolo’s famed six-pack in the film (“Hindi ako sanay sa pandesal na walang palaman,” she tells Piolo) but with the dust of a controversy still hovering at the heels of the film, and hopefully the changing tastes of the filmgoing public, it collapsed into the local box office oblivion, raking in only P50.1M as of the May 30-Jun 3 weekend chart (according to Box Office Mojo).

The studio’s most recent film, Born to Love You, which starred the unlikely pair of Coco Martin and singer Angeline Quinto, isn’t looking too good as well. It has only grossed P29.7 M since its opening date (Star Cinema’s Unofficially Yours had a P77M opening weekend) and received harsher reviews compared to Every Breath U Take.

Teleseryes on film

For the last few years, Star Cinema’s films have been sounding like pitches from drunk people who have been watching too much teleseryes or ASAP 2012 (“Gurrrl, they should put Angeline Quinto and Coco Martin in one film! Mukhang cute!”). The recipe is continually acknowledged, even in ‘riskier’ films like In My Life (their first with a gay love team) and Unoficially Yours. It then becomes a flagship carrier of morals, no matter how ridiculous the premise of the film is. And admittedly, it sells. The country’s list of top-grossing local films is dominated by Star Cinema, the only studio powerful enough to combine film and television to its advantage. But with every decent film like My Amnesia Girl, Nasaan Ka Man, and One More Chance (arguably one of the last decade’s best local films), Star Cinema’s output continues to be dominated by spectacularly bad films.

The idea that these films continue to sell is grounded by a baffling reality. Audiences know what exactly they’re paying for: a regurgitated version of the last romcom that they saw. Yet, they still continue to give it a try, enticed by the actors starring in the film, hoping to pass a few hours by after watching the Hollywood releases of the week, or caving in to their girlfriend’s (or boyfriend’s) decision to select the film this time.

“The comfort food theory’s a good one,” says film critic Dodo Dayao. “Maybe these romcoms are like rice, they increase your serotonin. I’d settle for taste, that this is what they really like as movie buffs. I settle a bit grudgingly but what can you do?”

Cinema for the comatose

In this equation, both the audience and the studio share equal parts for the blame. “Masisisi natin [ang mga tao] for mindlessly tuning in to mind-numbing TV shows day in and day out, and in general for not putting a value on critical thinking,” says film producer Raymond Lee,. “Pero sila ba ang gumagawa ng quarter-baked (hindi lang half), regressive, and regurgitated romcoms? Sila ba ang nagdecide na hanggang d’yan lang ang kaya ng taste at comprehension ng Pinoy movie audience? Sila ba ang nagsusulong ng mga ideya gaya ng minsan lang darating sa buhay ng isang tao ang kanyang One True Love and the rest are mere mistakes and distractions; ang pumatol sa may asawa, p*ta, period; ang bakla, katanggap-tanggap, but only if and when they prove themselves heroic.”

Lee, who’s behind some of the most important Filipino films of the past decade such as The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros, has previously worked with Star Cinema in films like Anak, Tanging Yaman, and Milan; all of which were produced during the studio’s days when the story actually took center stage. “The studios used to try a lot harder and make much more interesting movies,” he explains. “They used to trust and respect writers and directors more. Now, they’re just afraid to rock their intermittently lucrative boat. Ang thinking nila, kung kumu-quota sila sa karamihan at tiba-tiba sila sa ilan, hindi na rin masama.”

Signs of life

Despite these unsettling truths, it’s hard not to be optimistic about our local film industry. The success of Cinemalaya 7 has paved way for smaller films to cross over like Ang Babae sa Septic Tank, which was picked up for distribution by Star Cinema. The new media model also gave rise to the increased accessibility of cudgels of filmic wisdom courtesy of critics online like Philbert Dy, Oggs Cruz and Dayao. But even with this powerful tool, Dayao isn’t still exactly sure that the critical mass can play a huge part in changing the status quo.

“Domestic critics, of which there are very few as it is, don’t have the same cachet as, say, foreign critics, but even they can’t keep Adam Sandler from making more movies, or stop Twilight films from not flopping. No amount of bad reviews is going to prevent the next Vice Ganda film from being a blockbuster,” he says.

A more discerning public

As for Lee, the public view on cinematic value has already changed and it’s the studios who haven’t kept up. As pirated DVDs unleash a torrent of quality films not usually accessible to the general public (best of the year bets such as Jeff Nichols’s Take Shelter and Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Once Upon a Time in Anatolia were sighted in the wild), they become an important element in shifting the public’s perspective on what great cinema is.

“Maraming natatawa na sinisisi pa rin nila ang video piracy sa paglubog ng industriya kaysa sarili nilang kapalpakan,” he says. “Pero in a twisted way they are right. Piracy has liberated people from the tyranny of their mediocrity. There’s access to good films that used to be out of reach to everyone but the elite. So in a way mas tumaray na ang taste ng movie audience. Sa tingin mo, pag gumawa ang studios ng better researched, better written, more timely, insightful, and entertaining movies, hindi papasok ang audience? Baka maloka pati Hollywood.”

At the end of the day, it will all boil down to freedom of choice: the choice of the audiences to turn away from the celluloid junk food, even Hollywood’s, and the studio’s choice to break away from the mold and take advantage of their position to usher in a new golden age of Philippine Cinema.

This article was originally published in The Philippine Star’s Supreme. 

The Prairie Fire That Wanders About
by Don Jaucian

Meek’s Cutoff (2011)
D: Kelly Reichardt
S: Michelle Williams, Bruce Greenwood, Shirley Henderson, Paul Dano, Will Patton

The wilderness can be a comforting place, its eerie silence presenting a strange calm that promises a future of beginnings. Rolling winds gather clouds, taking away the wanderers out into an open field where the horizon is the only rope that guides. But its vast emptiness has borne cautionary tales from the ancient times where inhuman entities and deities have made it a battle ground for men, an arena where endurance, faith, and beliefs are challenged, something that even the Son of God himself has suffered. 

James Tissot’s ‘Jesus Tempted in the Wilderness’

Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness has stood as proof of his incorruptibility. Faced with hunger, powerlessness, and other demonic ministrations, Jesus withstood the Devil’s attempt to break his spirit and hand himself over into worldly desires. Often earmarked as a show of his divinity and high wisdom, the varying accounts of this temptation makes for an interesting standpoint between the Old and the New Testaments of the Bible, something that Kelly Richardt’s Meek’s Cutoff searingly handles with such grace and subtlety.

By all means, Meek’s Cutoff can stand for any representation of a challenged leadership. Here is a ragtag bunch of men and women, parched, desperately scouring the Oregon desert for any sign of the end of their ordeal. As their supposedly two-day trek stretches into a harrowing journey, tension mounts as the water and supplies dwindle. The settlers suspect that their guide, Stephen Meek, isn’t exactly what he is supposed to be. Branded as the devil, the men initially decide to hang him if they still find themselves lost after a few days. But when they catch a Native American along their route, roles become reversed and their fate becomes more uncertain as ever.

The Indian may be their only hope of at least getting water. But Meek’s assumptions of the Native American’s true nature (who doesn’t speak a bit of English) plants a deadly seed in the minds of most of the settlers. Talk of bloodshed and skin-ripping only instills more fear and paranoia to the group, but Emily (Michelle Williams) believes that the Indian doesn’t mean any harm. She feeds him with whatever they may spare and attempts to decode his gestures and mumbling, which the others interpret as a form of signal for the rest of his tribe to come and attack them.

As a character reads verses from the Old Testament in various points of the film, Meek’s Cutoff can also be interpreted as a lost chapter of the Fall of Man. But this connection is never explicitly dealt. Meek is a figurehead of any religion, a prophet at least, luring believers into the unknown only to watch them crumble as they encounter more tribulations along the way. Reichardt fleshes off Meek as a shady character whose intentions remain questionable until the very end. He is as clueless and tired as anyone else, but his position doesn’t afford him to be crippled like the rest of them.

Meek’s Cutoff doesn’t offer any resolutions or clear-cut definitions. Everything seems as elusive as the promised land that they have been pursuing. But its this vagueness that propels the film as it goes along in a plot furthered by nothingness. A questionable messiah is better than an absent one. Because after all, it’s this persistence of being that gives meaning to our lives, no matter how pointless it may seem.