Sean Ellis' Metro Manila - The Abyss of Hopelessness

I can’t shake off the feeling. There’s dread and melancholy in my mind, and I am finding myself in a state of morbid depression. After a hiatus of several months, I am compelled to write again for the sake of catharsis, because I find none of that where Sean Ellis’ Sundance-favorite, “Metro Manila” is concerned.

When rice farmer Oscar Ramirez (Jake Macapagal) realizes that he couldn't even afford to buy seedlings from the sale of his newly harvested “palay”, he briskly decides to uproot his wife Mai (Althea Vega) and their two children from Benguet to the big city to seek the greener pasture that the fields have denied them. They soon learn that the concrete jungle is an even more hostile environment. Opportunists abound and the weakling eventually gets crushed into mangled carcasses. Mai decides to apply as a bar girl while Oscar is looking for a job. Fate gets kinder when Oscar falls under the good grace of Douglas Ong (John Arcilla), an armored car security driver who soon grooms Oscar as his right hand man. The latter lends him shirt, buys him food, hustles a fake driver's license, and even finds him a more suitable home away from the slums of Tondo. No sooner do we realize that there’s more to Douglas’ overbearing hospitality. Isn't money a universal motive why people do the things they do? Oscar and Douglas’ armored car carries oodles of them day in and day out. Then the plot thickens.

In my years of watching films of different genre, I've learned that one of the characteristics of a great film is its ability to linger long after leaving the cinema. Such intensity hobbles and dawdles – then it putters like a log hanging down your psyche, banging into your heart. This is Sean Ellis’ “Metro Manila”.

Unfortunately, I feel that it’s for the wrong reasons. While we totally embrace social realism, for how else do we face the future if we don’t keep our eyes wide open to the painful truths happening around us, we abhor sheer hopelessness. And that is what ultimately constitutes the film. There are 95 million souls in this country, but there aren't 95 million tales worth telling.

SPOILERS

Social realism, to become a valid story, has to elicit a glimmer of hope. But where is hope in a homecoming punctuated with a dead husband? Is stolen stash worthy as a source of inspiration? Moreover, great stories have redemptive value. What is redemptive in a husband who hardly winces when he learns that his wife has started peddling her body before salivating customers? Yet when his only “friend” Douglas (John Arcilla), who has helped him find gainful employment and a home, asks him to punch his time card, he has the gall to even joke, “Baka mapapasama tayo dyan!” At this point, when Douglas tells him to lick his ass, shouldn't he be licking away until his friend tells him to stop? After all, his wife is already gyrating naked in front of horned out men. When the narrative element of conspiracy eventually sets in, should Oscar still be on a moral high ground? How dare he allow his wife sinking briskly into moral quagmire while he refuses to get his hands dirty? If that isn't the hallmark of a spineless, albeit unsympathetic husband, I don’t know what is. 

The story has head-scratchers from the start. When Oscar bravely risked the well being of his family by taking them to the harsh city without a friend or an assured roof under their heads, you would question his mind set - Reckless, to be kind? Or an idiot, to be more appropriate? Who relocates his family to the big city with just under P2,000 and not a hint of a dwelling?

In “Metro Manila”, British director Sean Ellis visualizes an urban landscape cloaked with apathy, almost reflective of the “Gates of Hell” voiced out by novelist Dan Brown (“The Da Vinci Code”); traffic almost shuts down to a halt; tenements teem with roaches, wide gaping ceilings, rusty fences; hookers who get kidnapped in public avenues; heck, even children are depicted as heartless creatures (three boys are shown torturing a kitten). Every member of the populace is an opportunist so when you’re handed what is perceived as help, it isn't.

While I understand that all these constitute the thematic essence of a fictional dark world called “Metro Manila”, I am gripped with a confounding pessimism for the story being told. And this will shake your faith on what’s otherwise called Pinoy hospitality or the vaunted good-natured quality of this so-called people. Scratch that notion. Metro Manila is a world of despicable people. Everyone is as ugly and "nanggigitata" as the dilapidated buildings that rise over shanties. 

True, Sean Ellis gets his shot for brilliant story telling. He weaves a compelling tripe that won’t let you leave your seat as you’re gradually sucked into his narrative maelstrom. Jake Macapagal has always been known to play it down even in the theatrical world where he proudly hails. His tentative demeanor as the naive farmer is perfect for his early scenes, but as the story moves forward, it becomes clear that Macapagal’s passivity is really a reflection of his awkward grasp of character. We don’t see him evolve even when he indolently turns to the other side. Didn't serving 4 years in the infantry teach him a whimper of a grit? John Arcilla, hailed by many impressionable minds as “brilliant”, is actually too obvious. Had he tried subtlety a notch lower, the effect would have been chilling. We knew from the get-go that he was this slimy SOB who wanted something out from his staged kindness. Then there’s the side story involving a bullied man named Alfred Santos (JM Rodriguez) and his rather silly parachuting parable. Rodriguez looked so effete he might as well shout “Darna!” when he jumped off the plane. And who successfully carries a handgun on a commercial plane? Aren't there any other ways of escaping other than jumping off planes?

Bottom line here is, “Metro Manila” has turned Metro Manila into a mythical city replete with squalor and hopelessness; where predators continuously prey on the innocent. The urban landscape is dark and putrid and filled with figurative decay that goes way beyond architecture. Ellis paints a squalid metropolis that’s downright grotesque and unseemly, and he has succeeded to take this image to the United Kingdom and Sundance with much acclaim. After all, this tale about a lawless, rotting Asian city of whores and thieves called Manila becomes Britain’s ticket to the Oscars derby. How will the Brits and the world's cineastes see the real Metro Manila after this? Not flattering, that’s for sure.

While I realize that Ellis isn't in the industry of making a propaganda about Philippine tourism, he conveniently makes Manila the poster child of the perfectly petrifying third world in all its grimy desperation. Just a few weeks ago, Mes de Guzman's "Ang Kuwento ni Mabuti" eked out a deceptively simple tale of an innocent grandmother (Nora Aunor) in far flung Nueva Ecija in almost similar moral dilemma. Yet the narrative fabric didn't exploit destitution or poverty which is a major highlight in Ellis' flick.

A friend who saw this earlier told me he liked the hopeful tone as it wrapped up its story. Huh? Rappler’s Carljoe Javier referred to the flick as “something to be enjoyed.” Oh wee… How does one find enjoyment, hope or inspiration in a tale where the protagonist succumbs to the dark forces? That his wife returns home with a dead husband, a stolen loot, and a broken soul? In a pessimist’s world such as “Metro Manila”, I come home with a heavy heart.  

Khavn dela Cruz's Edsa XXX - Five Star Awful

In the year 2029, the world looks like an abandoned war town bathed by surreal psychedelia. In the struggling nation of Ek-ek-ek, a reluctant leader Tatlong Mata (Epy Quizon) is shoved into the political maelstrom of a newly installed government sinisterly maneuvered by self-serving benefactors called Hukbalaka who linger with ulterior motives. 

The aforementioned clandestine group, of course, want national domination. A flurry of odd characters further influence Tatlong Mata’s every action: his sexy girl friend Ana Mari (Sheree), as well as an Amazonian movement headed by Mariana Mariano (Althea Vega) who plots to foil the ministrations of Hukbalaka.

I came into the film looking forward to enjoying what promised to be a brilliant satire; a superior film. After all, this had glowing reviews all over the worldwideweb. I rarely read reviews prior to watching a film, but I felt I had to make heads and tail about its plot before diving into a film from one of the mavericks of the Independent Philippine Cinema. Besides, this was among a dead critic’s bucket list – a musical from director Khavn de la Cruz. The film maker is known for infusing mixed media in his films. Meryll Soriano’s “Paalam Aking Bulalakaw” (2006), for example, had delectable poetry and dreamy music framing the inherent narrative. He’s had a lot of “music” in his works even before “Edsa XXX” came about. This should be a treat, right?

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be the case. While several critics have given it their highest marks, a sophisticated action of gargantuan mystery, the film is one egregious mistake. To add some flair into its otherworldliness, Director Dela Cruz employs the fisheye lens to further skew its message, delivered in harrowing pages of what he fashioned was a mixed bag of humor, satire, rock musical, dance revue, and whatever it was that he set his mind to. The result is one alienating tripe that’s more rubbish than alternative.

This makes their associated labelings: “The first movie filmed entirely in Corregidor Island” and “shot in fisheye lens” – utterly unnecessary and dubious. I can in fact make a film using the “bottom of a coke bottle” and it won’t amount to much without valid storytelling. The songs are loud (as rock anthems should be), dissonant and melodically spare, you’d wish you were crapping in a toilet than summoning hypertension in your seat. And true enough, someone was filmed taking a crap in one of the crannies of the Malinta Tunnel. If you don’t believe this, try googling for its theatrical trailer. The film in its entirety felt like a desecration of a historical site. They had jokes that no one found amusing. Otherwise, I would have heard even a single chuckle during its screening. Of course, I probably saw the film on a different day than when any of the amused critics watched it. There was so much irritable ugliness in the amateurish blocking and dance sequences, they seemed like random parts of a long dress rehearsal. By curtain call, it was clear that someone needed to be burned at the stakes.

Tatlong Mata (Epy Quizon) and Ana Mari (Sheree)

My whole Cinema One movie viewing was relatively pleasant, but “Edsa XXX” inspired suicidal tendencies. This was painful; a major irritant. Iyaya, my BFF, excused herself to go shoe shopping instead, refusing to do her cinematic penance. “Life is too short to suffer like that,” she whispered before leaving me. And she had every right to do so. After all, she was a paying consumer and thought this was money down the latrine. Why then were there glowing reviews all over, she later asked? There was obviously a term for this affliction, and I couldn’t help but laugh despite my frustration.

During this festival, I kept seeing this Caucasian guy who watched most of the films screened during the festival. I must have met him almost a dozen times, missing him only in 4 films. He always carried a backpack with him. I overheard him say that he would usually travel to Manila to watch our tourist-trapping film festivals. This is good news, if a tad surprising, right? When I saw him outside, after “Edsa XXX’s” screening, he was telling his friend, “That was quite awful.” Five-star awful, and I couldn't agree more.  

Althea Vega dances the tango.

Crapland. Yes, someone actually crapped!

Historical ruins and the figurative cinematic structures.

Sheree as Ek-ek-ek's First Girl Friend Ana Mari, a former prostitute.

Mes de Guzman's Diablo - Demons and the Family

Nanay Lusing (Ama Quiambao) lives in the looming presence of what seems like a demon. In a resplendent white house that’s seen better days, she alone maneuvers around familiar but empty hallways, once populated by five sons that have since grown up and moved on. At night, she dines alone, breathless from the occasional shaking of the ground. After bedtime prayers, she settles down her bed with midnight radio blaring loudly – her sole companion in the dead of night. But Nanay Lusing is frozen stiff, sleepless and wide awake from her room's hovering presence. This scenario repeats nightly.

Her sons occasionally visit, but they never stay on. Oscar (Carlo Aquino) heads a horde of religious cult followers, wearing white robes, and dwelling in a cave. He intermittently visits, bearing green mangoes, his mother’s favorite. Fernando (Fredie dela Cruz), a gun-toting military man. Ronaldo (Jose Escobedo) works in a mine. Ruben (Arnold Reyes) farms the rice lands. Ruben hasn’t spoken to his mother in a long time and spitefully avoids her visits. Alberto (Roeder Camanag) is Nanay Lusing’s itinerant, volatile, needy, albeit charming son. He’s perceived to be the favorite, despite his propensity to ask more than he deserves. Alberto lights up Lusing’s room with boundless energy and put-on affection so it’s understandable why she is drawn to him.

One day, he comes home, telling her stories of heart ache; his big city pawnshop has closed shop and he tells her he’s coming home for good. He brings along Angela (Althea Vega) who shall attend to Nanay Lusing’s needs (she recently suffered a fall due to osteoporosis and is thus confined to a wheelchair). Nanay Lusing gets asked by Alberto about their properties, products of a once progressive past. But she smells the ruse. Her sons never gather around like one big family. Not anymore. What Nanay Lusing has (for companions) are a couple of young thieves Matias and Jamaba (John Paul Escobedo and Ronald Caranza) now hired as household help. But Alberto detests their presence. One day, Nanay Lusing is told about Oscar’s sudden demise (he was stabbed by drunken tambays). Would this dreary occasion bring her sons under one roof? Who is the lingering silhouette in her night bed? Will it harm her?

Director Mes de Guzman takes a deliberate pace to tell his story, but he paints his picture with incisive strokes, it's hard to interchange the motives of the characters. This tack allows these people to grow on you which makes empathy easier to attain. Ama Quiambao dominates the screen with her subdued presence. In her clipped words and restrained grace, you find the patience of a mother who knows only too well what her sons are up to - like when Alberto starts discussing about their "nakatiwangwang" parcel of lands, in the guise of familial concern. She never spoke a word, but you notice the gradually pursed lips and the tightening of jaw. She was displeased after all. Director de Guzman's gift rests on his ability to tell his tale leisurely without these strains appearing contrived or forced.

Among Quiambao's co-actors, Roeder Camanag works hard, but doesn't quite measure up to the enticing pull of the veteran actress. Arnold Reyes does better here as Ruben, the son who felt that his mother was playing favorites. Reyes is a competent actor, but he occasionally forgets to temper his emotions. While his technique is always attention-grabbing, it isn't always sincere or appropriate. This is evident in his performance in "Intoy Syokoy sa Calle Marina". Someone please remind him that "less is more" because he already has the faculty to become better. Althea Vega, a habitue of sexy flicks and Pink Films like "Halik sa Tubig" turns in a decent performance. She registers well on screen so I am upbeat that she gets seen in more legitimate independent films.

SPOILERS!

As the film draws to a close, Nanay Lusing is distraught to find her transistor radio conking out. For years, its noisy commentaries about faith, the deception of demons, and its static have accompanied her solitude while she lies awake in the wee hours of the night. She's been sleepless. That night, noise turns soundless. Except for the reverberating sound of the old woman's snore. More importantly, the hovering demon has dissipated. We also realize that Nanay Lusing's "Diablo" finds closure when her family finally gains familial harmony. Isn't that hopeful?

Roeder Camanag as the opportunistic, but charming son Alberto. Arnold Reyes as the spiteful son  Ruben.

Carlo Aquino as the religious cult leader. 

Halik sa Tubig - Of Cluttered Mess, Naughty Men and Spaced Out Goddeses

Kiro Baldemor, Orlando Sol and Marco Morales : Naughty triumvirate!

In Alejandro “Bong” Ramos’ “Halik sa Tubig” (Kiss in the Water), they start with an introduction about those “kwentong bayan” – which, let me tell you up front, are all hogwash. This particular small town lore is about a mythical earth goddess named Mercedita, a powerful wandering earth-bound diwata who watches over the brokenhearted of Binangonan, Rizal (she is territorial – LOL). In this story, we follow Ilo (Paolo Paraiso) who’s pining for the childhood sweetheart who left. Ten years into his search, he finds her married – and ill!

Ilo works as a caretaker of a fishpen, locally called “batilyo”; a job he shares with 3 other guys: Kain (Marco Morales), Pitong (Kiro Baldemor), and Andong (Orlando Sol). One fateful day, he finds a lady washed up amidst floating lilies. Her name – Mercedita. Is she or isn’t she?

Althea Vega is Mercedita

Director Ramos finally shows in his tacky story telling the limits of his capacity as a filmmaker. Good visuals don’t suffice. In fact, even color grading here is experimental at best. Some scenes they OD’ed with color saturation; someone was left unattended playing with his picassa or photo shop – or whatever it is that adjusts cinema colors. Paolo, in one of his rare lead roles (Deo Fajardo Jr.'s "Casa" and Adolf Alix Jr.'s "Imoral"), appears disheveled and uninteresting. He mopes all throughout the film; his character never left the single dimension that he’s in!

It’s actually the triumvirate – Morales, Sol and Baldemor – that’s given the spotlight as they get themselves into different fracas that would highlight their sexual stamina. Orlando Sol registers strongly on screen (and he gets to show his butt up close too) and Marco Morales does what he usually does in films: swears, gets high, shows his ass, and fornicates. Just a couple of years since he started, the strain of his lifestyle is prematurely starting to show. Kiro on the other hand does… damn, what did he do there? Jeff Luna makes a horizontal cameo too.

Ramos’ latest movie is a cluttered mess. At no point did we ever believe on the mythology at hand. Casting Althea Vega ("Walang Kawala", "Big Night") as Mercedita may be contributory to this. There was nothing in her bearing that suggested royalty or mysticism. In fact, if they muted the sound or spliced a few scenes out, I would surmise she's the ecdysiast from the beerhouse down the corner, then got herself accidentally entangled in a sea of water lilies. After all, which goddess in their moments of lucidity would swiftly strip down on top of a hill just to enjoy the fresh ocean breeze? Which goddess would succumb to smoking weeds after a few prods from drunken men? Which goddess carries gravity-friendly size 40 boobs? I rest my case!

There were moments of pure hilarity too. Such as when Mercedita gets raped and we see her curling her toes. She sure loved the misdeed. When the voice over relates the comeuppance of the three guys, the prose went from ponderous to comedic: “… hanggang mabalot ito sa kalibugan ng dagat!” and “at di nila mapigilan ang magparaos”. Ngi! Then as if to save the best for last, the avenging goddess - with Mercedita hanging on a nipa wall - casts a spell upon the baddies: a spell that had them fondling and cavorting with each other. It's a ridiculously meretricious menage a trios. Everytime Ramos loses narrative steam, he turns to tawdry and ill-conceived ménage a trois to redeem his dwindling think board. (See “Araro”.) Brilliant!

To resurrect Paolo’s fastly nondescript character from cinematic limbo, he is given an off-the-wall scene with a ghost for closure! How utterly silly!

Fresh faced Orlando Sol registers strongly on screen. He is part of the overhauled singing group "Masculados".

Orlando and his sequined briefs.

Note:

Please read our featured post on Cinema Bravo and why Web Criticism isn't always about good and reliable writing:

- http://makemeblush2.blogspot.com/2016/10/cinema-bravo-film-criticisms-execrable.html