Louie Ignacio's "Area" - Spiraling Down to Hell

Ai Ai delas Alas inveigles a triumphant disappearing act in this harrowingly told tale of moral degeneration amidst Angeles City's squalor.  

The story takes place in a poor man's red light district called Area, far removed from the dizzyingly pulsating atmosphere of Fields Avenue that used to play host to transient American soldiers stationed in a nearby military camp. Pubescent lads wanting to lose their "virginity"; unhappy married men, and jeepney drivers who want a dose of pleasure all troop to Area to get their kicks for a mere P250. Meanwhile, the ladies of the night get free board and lodging, and earn their P50 commission per client.

The film follows Hillary aka Teresita Santos, an aging hooker holed up in a cramped brothel with client-favorite Julie (Sue Prado) and half a dozen other girls of varying age and size. 

Hillary's back story is one for the books. When Pinatubo exploded in 1991, Hillary's son was taken away by her American lover who flew back to the United States where he was never heard from again. But Hillary is saving up for a plane ticket that would reunite her with son Patrick. Will he even accept her? Is it all wishful thinking? In fact, everyone thinks she's just leading up the garden path; that her stories are tall tales.  

Humor is occasionally infused at the expense of the women's age, physical appearance and, heck, smell of their genitalia. Though these self deprecating jabs may be occasionally amusing, they're ultimately off-putting. 
  
Ignacio's cinematic concoction carries an antithetical message told in episodic exposition. Set in a stifling space, the film creates an atmosphere of confinement and enslavement. One thematic artifice used repeatedly is the Filipinos' penchant for religious theatricality: the self flagellation and staged crucifixion; the pious church visits; and the ill-advised use of stultifying singing: dissonant, ugly, ear-splitting, and played out like an unending loop, Watching the film was, at best, like being punished. 

For the uninitiated, Ignacio's story seems exotic and otherworldly so I'm not surprised at all if it won Special Jury Prize at the Eurasia International Film Festival in Kazakhstan. Poverty is still the country's gold standard for "serious" film making. It's the go-to topic if an auteur wants to be taken earnestly. Even previous and recent SWS surveys have "poverty" in the top spot. 

For emphasis, the country's overreaching concern is poverty. It has to be addressed. In such state, there is meagerness of available resources and opportunities that would otherwise allow people to break out of this vicious cycle of destitution.

Nope, it isn't drugs (not by a long shot) though it would be foolhardy to totally ignore the dimension involving the drug menace. But when all the drug peddlers have been demolished, blown to smithereens and absolutely eradicated (which will never happen), we'd still be left with plodding development and non-inclusive growth. Wala ng addict, pero wala ring trabaho o pambili ng pagkain. Nganga. The only ones who argue against this are the apologists, but let's leave them with their hallucinatory amity. But I'm digressing, am I not?

Delas Alas' previous indie effort, Nick Olanka's "Ronda" was a decent experiment but Ai Ai's characterization was obviously "manufactured" to showcase the popular comedienne's dramatic chops. I didn't like it. 

This time around, she displays a nuanced performance that deserves commendation. You could feel her longing and desperation in manner, form and delivery. There were no attention-calling outbursts from her up until the climactic scene when she found out about her lost savings. That scene was particularly gut-wrenching. At that point of the story, Hillary's all spent, mind, body and soul, with nothing to show for it. Truth be told, Ai Ai de las Alas was the only reason to watch this bothersome yarn.

Allen Dizon plays the role of Ben who manages the prostitution den. His side story involves his devotion to family, but I suspect it's a mere scene extension to validate his participation in this film. Ben's story is disposable. Strike him off the plate and it won't affect the story all that much. 

On the whole, "Area" is bafflingly difficult too watch. It's dark, grimy, claustrophobic and most of the characters are morally bankrupt. More importantly, the film's use of extraneous sound - those uninterrupted devotional songs felt like ice picks shooting down the brain. If there ever were cerebral sciatica, this would have been it! 

"Area" has nothing particularly rewarding to take home to. Just pure unadulterated grief and penance.

Penance for the pimp.

An electric fan in exchange of Hillary's services.

#Area   #aiaidelasalas   #kazakhstan   #prostitution

Jason Paul Laxamana's "Magkakabaung" - A Gem in a Festival

Randy Alcantara (Allen Dizon) lives a facile, albeit joyless life as a single parent to sickly 8 year old Angeline (Felixia Crysten Dizon) in bucolic San Vicente where dust settles on crops and its murky river. Randy is a coffin maker in nearby Santo Tomas where he takes home P285 for a day of carpentry work. A devout father to his child, Randy’s only vice is mischievous town beauty Neri (Chanel Latorre) who mostly takes him for a ride in exchange of phone load and the occasional night out at the cinema. One day, Randy, along with his colleagues, gets hired for an overnighter to rush 60 coffins for a Congressman’s charity project. This will earn him P800 and a day off work thereafter.

Before rushing to work, Randy buys antibiotics (Amoxicillin) for Angeline who’s febrile and coughing, and tells her to take the medicine while he’s out to work. Later that night, Randy comes home to a child who’s barely breathing. He rushes Angeline to the hospital, but it was too late. Fraught with guilt for having given his daughter a drug she’s allergic to, Randy is helplessly unhinged. What’s worse, his P800 salary doesn’t suffice to claim his daughter’s corpse. Where will he get P1,500 to pay the hospital bills?

But like an expeditious reply to his cry for help, Pablo Canda (Emilio Garcia) comes along offering him P2,000, saying “We’ll settle this loan later”. Canda turns in profits by peddling corpses, albeit illegally, to medical schools in need of cadavers. Now, Randy is torn between selling his daughter’s dead body for a P20,000 profit or paying Mr. Canda P10,000 so Randy could finally take home Angeline who now lies in Mr. Canda’s funeral home.

In the morning, Randy makes an unexpected visit to Mabel (Gladys Reyes), Angeline’s biological mother, now blissfully married to an American. He asks for her help so they could claim Angeline’s corpse. Mabel acquiesces. After all, Angeline is her daughter too. But she wants Angeline’s body to undergo autopsy. “Ako na’ng bahala,” she insists. This presents a dilemma for the still-discombobulated Randy who’s aware that he could be pinned down for his daughter’s untimely demise. What to do?

The film tells its story like a slow burn, thus you won't miss any of the salient points the film tries to convey. This richness of ideas thrives within the story: lessons on self-medication; single parenthood; desperation of people who treat corpses like salable commodities; that sending a dead body to a hospital can cost you P2,300; and the anecdote of the coffin maker who eventually ends up making one for his own daughter.

Allen Dizon, as Randy Alcantara, makes a career-best performance that unusually reeks with cinematic paradox, i.e. emotive vulnerability and confidence we’ve never seen from the actor’s previous works. Without any hint of awkwardness we usually find him in (e.g. Joel Lamangan’s “Kamkam” and Joven Tan’s “Paupahan”), Dizon immersively loses himself in portraying the beleaguered father who may have caused his daughter’s death. His character is adequately entangled in a bind where the harder he tries to extricate himself out of his self-inflicted predicament; the deeper he digs himself a hole. And there seemingly is no light, or ladder if you will, at the end of the tunnel.

Director Laxamana makes adequate use of the region’s local color, giving the film a crisp atmosphere that’s typically rural and a visually fresh scenography. He likewise succeeds using local language to convey a deceptively laidback atmosphere without alienating his audience (i.e. those who don’t understand Kapampangan or are allergic – not just to Amoxicillin – but to subtitles as well). What’s better, his ensemble is a commendable lot: Gladys Reyes, Chanel Latorre, Emilio Garcia, Bor Ocampo and even the comebacking former-sexy star Tonio Ortigas all contribute to a suspenseful cautionary tale. 

Jason Paul Laxamana’s “Magkakabaung” (The Coffin Maker) benefits from the script’s anti-drama swerve, refusing to spiral down into melodramatic sentimentalism despite obvious avenues into the story. Laxamana deftly employs long takes to tell his narrative sequences; a ploy that usually requires patience, precise blockings and time-consuming rehearsals or re-takes. What unravels before you is an organic flow of events - and a very cohesive story telling that’s hard to shake off. Laxamana’s compelling yarn-spinning feels like the perfect delivery of a promise seen in his earlier works, “Astro Mayabang” and “Babagwa”. There are a few misplaced snippets (like the scene showing the “possessed or convulsing girl”) but most of the details harmoniously settle into a fully realized cinematic work. Without a doubt, “Magkakabaung” is my favorite; it is undoubtedly this MMFF New Wave edition’s best picture, and one the year’s finest.

THE REST OF THE MMFF NEW WAVE ENTRIES

While we're at it, you may not want to miss Zsa zsa Padilla's delectable turn as the cancer-stricken, foul-mouthed lawyer Bella Monteclaro in Zig Dulay's  "M (A Mother's Maiden Name)" where Nico Antonio likewise delivers a spot-on portrayal as Joven, Bella's gay son. Dulay's film is peppered with hilarious one-liners that render this film its stab of irony, i.e. to be funny despite its theme tackling morbidity and mortality. Get this: Bella dresses down her secretary with a caustic one-liner: "Mas madami sigurong tanga sa mundo kung hindi mo sinasarili." Nga naman. Or when she says, "Allergic ako sa pretensions. Nangangati ako sa plastic." Or when Bella discusses the essence of real beauty with son Joven and he says, "Ang ganda ay di nakikita sa labas, kundi nasa kalooban ng tao." Bella counters this with, "Yan ang argument ng mga pangit."

The film eventually takes a road trip that uproots Bella to a small town where her mayordoma, Manang Minda (Gloria Sevilla) lives to tend to her sick daughter Liway (Sue Prado). This chapter somehow meanders, but is leavened by scenes involving Joven and a strapping barrio lad named Anton Tumacder, middle named "Malaki" played with flirtatious mien by Marx Topacio and the adorable Nico Antonio who never resorts to thespic excesses common among "screen fags". Yes, not all gays are screaming, flaming fags. Antonio's restrained act smacks of discipline. His performance frames Padilla's acerbic disposition; Antonio's "yang" to Padilla's "yin". And they make a truly complementary pair too pleasant to ignore.  

Arlyn dela Cruz's "Maratabat" is a cautiously made, must-see flick that should remind people of the excesses of power. While Kristoffer King is rightfully sinister as doped out Mayor Ismael, we have trouble picturing his deportment as mayorly, and we require just a hint of this. You get no argument from me though on the fact that he was vicious and scary. His rape scene with Chanel Latorre is particularly jarring, and should not be watered down by mere suggestions. It deserved to be captured on cam. Ping Medina (playing Ronwaldo Maharlika) may have an uncanny semblance to Mr.Toto Mangudadatu, but Medina's performance is compromised by a technical flaw in his delivery of lines - a bothersome breathing technique. His inhalatory excursions are placed midway between sentences, and are thus disturbing. This is most obvious in his speech before his supporters to announce his candidacy as governor of the province running head-on against a sturdy political nemesis Salvador Abubakar (Julio Diaz). It felt like he was going into an asthmatic exacerbation.

We're not quite sure how to "digest" Ma. Diane Ventura's "Mulat" and it's confounding vicious cycle of arguments and counter-arguments about relationships. At some point, it got too exhausting I just wanted them to break up already and just shut their yappers. Take your dose of lithium already, Samantha. One thing's sure though, Loren Burgos is a cinematic find though she needs to work on her "crying technique". You cannot sob away like there's no tomorrow sans tears, unless you have Nasolacrimal Duct Obstruction, but then that's remediable. An ophthalmologist can irrigate on your lacrimal duct for 5 minutes and then you're good as new. If however, for some reason you want to acquire a slice (or two) of tension headache amid lush cinematography, try Ato Bautista's "Gemini". And bring two boxes of super-strength, extended release Ibuprofen with you.   

Guaranteed tension headache.

Mabel receives news of her daughter's untimely demise.

Joel Lamangan's Sigwa – Raging Storms and Troubled Souls

It took Dolly (Dawn Zuleuta) 35 years to return to the Philippines. Back then, she was a wide eyed optimist visiting her parent’s motherland for the first time. She also believed that well meaning people like her could fight a feeble system and change the world. Several years later, she has returned for a more compelling reason; one that took her back to that tumultuous era. In the early seventies, she hurriedly escaped the clutches of Martial Law quite scathed and dazed, leaving a daughter under the care of Azon (Gina Alajar). In the crossfire of warring ideologies, many have perished. Including her child, or so she thought. But a common friend recently tells her that the child is alive.

At the height of an oppressive dictatorship, young idealist Dolly (Megan Young) – a junior correspondent of a US magazine - is welcomed by a group of student activists who ushered her into the ideals of their advocacy. She meets student leader Oliver (Marvin Agustin) and his girlfriend Cita (Pauleen Luna); the persevering Azon (Lovi Poe) and the dependable Rading (Jay Aquitania); then there’s the restrained Eddie (Allen Dizon) with whom Dolly gets into a relationship. With adequate fervor and high-mindedness, the group soon finds themselves joining the underground movement bent on toppling an oppressive government.

But each member is deliberately captured. The ladies are raped; the guys are subjected to hellish tortures until their souls have all been beaten to a pulp, providing names and whereabouts of their other comrades. Meanwhile, Dolly’s been recovered by the authorities who have been informed that she’s an American citizen, giving her the privilege to abandon her group’s cause and fly back to America while everyone else faces a bleak future.

But 35 years have changed people. Dolly has chosen to live a solitary life. Oliver (Tirso Cruz III) has joined the government, acting as the presidential spokes person, while Cita (Oliver’s former girl friend, this time played by Zsa Zsa Padilla) has risen in the ranks of the left-leaning revolutionary group. She has in fact become their supreme leader. Dolly has required the help of Oliver, now in the position of finding people, to locate Azon (Gina Alajar) who was left with Dolly’s child at the height of the insurgency. Dolly’s pursuit has unraveled strife anchored by their past. Is her daughter still alive? Will she ever find her?

Joel Lamangan’s “Sigwa” (Storm) is a harrowing journey that follows the lives of student activists with ponderous tenacity. On the foreground is a mother’s search for her child, but it’s merely a device used to introduce us to the characters. Though compelling and thematically clamorous, the focus wavers from too much detail. This isochronous storytelling tends to provide a less cohesive work, denying the material to soar. That’s always the plight of a material with a multitude of climaxes, thus the story eventually plateaus. This is not saying that Lamangan’s “Sigwa” is an insignificant material. It in fact deserves to be seen and remembered.

Megan Young and Dawn Zulueta competently link the past and the future with honest portrayals as Dolly. Marvin Agustin delivers one of the most emotionally distressing depiction of a torture victim. While his tears trickle down his cheeks and he pleads for his life, you are punched in the gut by the scene’s realism. Tirso Cruz III, who plays the older Oliver, is equally treacherous as the cabinet secretary who’s had a change of heart. Gina Alajar, brilliant as ever, mines her veteran instinct to show the emotional groundwork of a mother who’s afraid to lose a child she’s nurtured as her own. I do have certain misgivings in Zsa Zsa Padilla’s portrayal. Maybe I’m too much weaned on her being the sophisticated lady that she is that it doesn’t seem right to see her carry guns and don sneakers, and tough talking like a revolutionary honcho. But she works hard for her part and it shows. Allen Dizon seems misplaced and looks awkward and ill at ease in many of his scenes, and the age gap between Megan’s Dolly and Dizon’s Eddie (he was planted by the military to spy and infiltrate the leftists) is a lumbering fact.

The torture and rape scenes feel sanitized. The sense of dread is somehow watered down by its careful staging. In my mind, there’s a need to stage a brutal scene – allow it to be ruthless and ferocious - to underline the horrors of an amoral military rule gone mad. Torture victims are scarred for life, and they don’t experience savagery with cotton candy ministrations. Despite its busy narrative, fragmented storytelling and its tendency for maudlinism, “Sigwa” is better realized than the indulgent “Ka Oryang” (which won Best Picture at the recent Cinema One – a truly despicable year for the festival).

A favorite scene is Dolly and Azon’s meeting. In this scene, the camera frames a troubled Azon – with Alajar in tremendous control – while the light from outside is casting shadows against her face. It was a deliberate form of visual poetry concocting a singular emotional moment that highlights Azon’s chagrined soul. Are there limits to what a mother would do to keep a daughter? Boundless.

Joselito Altarejos' Pink Halo Halo - Simple Lives, Broken Hearts

Gone are the phalluses and the brimming libido that usually drive director Joselito Altarejos' narratives. In fact, for the most part, the title, "Pink Halo Halo" is a bit misleading, but we will get into that later! This doesn't deny the fact - Altarejos' astute eye for haunting images is on spotlight, in the absence of naked male bodies.

As a response to a request, we are finally posting our thoughts on Altarejos' least popular, but ultimately rewarding flick.

In A Capsule

Natoy (newcomer Paolo Constantino) is the typical 9 year old who lives his innocent childhood in the backroads of scenic Masbate, playing war games with wooden guns, and enjoying his occasional visits to savor the delectable halo halo of his El Bimbo-dancing ninang (Dexter Doria). His father (Allen Dizon) is a soldier who endures a short-lived vacation when his command post recalls him. One day, Natoy witnesses on television a wounded soldier who turns out to be his father. What becomes of this young boy?

The story behind "Pink Halo Halo" is one of luminous clarity and simplicity, it's easy to associate oneself with the rawness of Altarejos' storytelling. Natoy's world revolves around a small community of gentle souls - a hard-working mother (Angeli Bayani), an affectionate uncle (Mark Fabillar), a ninang who occasionally treats him with her sumptuous pink halo halo, and a slumbering town made curtly aware of the strife between the military forces and the NPA's in a nearby sitio.

Altarejos adroitly delineates life in a small town and he takes us, rather languorously, around Natoy's chaste universe. In fact, he masterfully weaves a laidback - no, make it sluggish! - rural pastiche of folkways that sometimes come off incongruous with the rest of his straightforward storytelling!

The film could have benefited from a judicious editing of some scenes that unnecessarily stretch out too long; an awkwardly realized serenading as a father bids goodbye, and the dialogs could have enjoyed a more interactive demeanor. But on the whole, we found its simplicity ultimately affecting! Even the alternate use of Tigaonon dialect and the occasional Tagalog were beautifully seamless!

The ensemble was natural and relaxed from Allen Dizon to Angeli Bayani and Mark Fabillar, but the whole narrative would have fallen on a less believable Natoy - the resplendent Paolo Constantino who carries this coming-of-age story with sedate charm! He photographs well and doesn't resort to I'm-a-cute-tyke shtick prosaic among overworked local child actors, thus it's easy to empathize with him as Natoy. When he cries his innocent heart after seeing his wounded father of TV, there wasn't much to do but cry with him!

Why "Pink Halo Halo"? Does it imply that Natoy would eventually grow up gay and swishy? In one scene, we see Natoy eavesdropping while his mother is selling lipstick to a woman. We then find Natoy pretending that he's putting on lipstick. Sure, some quarters would find that scene representative of Natoy's future sexual preference, but this is debatable. Haven't you seen kids who, in moments of mischief would suddenly mimic the action of adults? I have! If Natoy were "soft", we wouldn't see him enjoy "baril barilan", would we? We'd find him doing a Maximo Oliveros. That he enjoys his ninang's pink halo halo doesn't appropriately contribute to the wobbly premise. Who doesn't love their crushed iced with sago, ube, kaong, saba, langka, nata de coco, leche flan - on a simmering summer's day? I am just not convinced of his impending homosexuality!

The secret of coming-of-age tales rests on the faithful documentation on the innocence of youth, narratively circumnavigating around the intricacies of growing up; something that newcomers could fittingly convey. Check out most of Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami's works which mostly employ children - non-professional actors - as his main character!

As a story teller, Director Altarejos needs to expound on his ideas without losing focus on the main story. And I was grateful he wasn't tempted on showing libidinous males in heat - for a change!

Moreover, I admire the "clean" camera work (by Pao Pangan). In one scene showing an outrigger boat as it sails towards the shore, the camera stays still. There were several hues of blue enveloping the bangka; a tiny island from a distance, the clouds hovering low like surreal brush strokes. It was a moment of sublime beauty! Real cinema is indeed more visual than verbose.

Household chores before he reports back to his post.

Simple childhood joys, like kite flying!

Saying goodbye in a blatantly foreboding scene.

Small town play.

Marino - Heroism Went Out to Sea

See Ara cry in the kitchen, at the sala, on the bed, at the fishpen, then while changing LPG tanks. Then Allen Dizon joins the crying game at his bunk, by the stairs, and every helluva corner of a sea vessel! Oh! As an afterthought, they decided to season it with a wee bit of a narrative idea. Get the drift?

That "Marino (Call of the Sea)" is this film production's homage to the OFW's and the seafaring Pinoys is a disservice to this subset of itinerant workers. That the movie shows the "simple and noble acts of heroism" is spurious. What is so heroic about a man who, while grieving for the death of his father-in-law, prefers to gallivanting around Thailand's "Ancient Siam" Recreational Park then caps his afternoon with a lay in the hay with a hooker in Bangkok? That this is the very first film to focus on the plight of Pinoy seamen is purely sensationalist hogwash and ignorant. Remember Mark Reyes' horrible "I.T.A.L.Y. (I Trust and Love You)" shown barely 2 years ago? That film was about the lives of Filipinos working on a cruise ship - and shot in "3 continents, 5 countries and 13 cities" - as though that was going to produce a masterpiece.

In "Marino", a horde of men are thrown together in a commercial vessel where we witness "ultra-thin" slices of their miserable lives. But the spotlight is on Benjo (Allen Dizon) who worries about a myriad of concerns: his wife Mina (Ara Mina) and her sick father, his younger brother Henry (Mike Tan). The rest of the crew is made up of dispensable characters - an awful cook (Victor Basa), a horndog gay man (Rico Barrera), an epileptic crew (Emilio Garcia). On land, we are further introduced to several indeterminate characters: the tricycle driver Arman (Marco Alcaraz) who pines for Mina's affections; Benjo's hopeful ex-girlfriend (Bangs Garcia) and a Filipina hooker who plies the streets of Bangkok (Krista Ranillo).

Director Paul Sta. Ana concocts a chopsuey of badly told stories that reek with fragmented melodrama and borderline acting. It was obvious they were highlighting the middling dramatic prowess of Allen Dizon who has of late been resorting to "woe-is-me" dramatics. That he can cry buckets is no benchmark for a good performance! He didn't move me! I was more annoyed! At the other end of the spectrum is how "Marino" drips with obdurate sentimentality, it is laughable!

The protracted story involving Krista Ranillo is really an expendable beat and is meant to give Ranillo more screen time than the story requires. A lost necklace, it seems, is Benjo's testament to fidelity. This is one guy whose priorities are all skewered! I would be a moron if I were to sympathize with his character.

In these times, heroism and nobility have acquired a new meaning. Why do people tend to believe that heroism is synonymous with leaving the country for a job abroad? What does it make the Filipinos who opt to stay home and work twice as hard for so much less? Are they really less of a hero for staying put? Are we less noble for enduring what our country can provide? Go figure!

Ara Mina (as Mina) is confused. She can't quite make up her mind whether her father suffered a stroke or is comatose? So they killed him off. That makes things less complicated! LOL

Two months of riding the vessel, Benjo already amassed several videos of his family. He even watches videos of him and his father-in-law sharing a light moment on his TV bunk. You can imagine how many other videos he will own one year later. Amazing! After receiving news of his in-law's death, he cavorts with a hooker in Bangkok. Upon his return to the vessel, he engages in a 5-minute crying spell as he grieves (again) for his father-in-law. Akala ko tatay n'ya ang iniiyakan, biyenan pala. Haha! Meanwhile, back in Manila, the dead man's own daughter Mina has moved on.

Mike Tan is a breath of fresh air. He plays Henry, Benjo's younger brother who once again failed his board exams.

Rico Barrera is Errol who slithers his way around crewmates' beds. Others call him "Carol".