Elwood Perez's "Esoterika Maynila" - Contemporary Realities

In Manila, there’s a healthy dose of mayhem and magic.

Who knows this better than Mario (Ronnie Liang), a naïve nursing student who's on a trail of self discovery. While working as a cook in a Chinese restaurant, he meets Donato (Federico Olbes) and Mona (Adelle Aura). In their presence, Mario discovers his penchant for the arts and an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Enamored by the beautiful Mona, the strapping lad starts a relationship with the besotted “widow”. Meanwhile, Donato introduces him to a motley of eccentric characters, including a photographer, a tourist guide, a writer, and a graphic artist. Then comes Raul (Vince Tanada), a frustrated opera singer who’s desperate for work. 

Donato is in love with Raul who begrudgingly sleeps with his elderly benefactor in exchange for favors: Donato lends him a car; takes him to meet prospective producers; offers a room in his apartment, etc. But unknown to Raul, Donato has plans of moving overseas. To make matters worse, the elder gentleman’s fortunes are fast dwindling. 

Out of Raul’s chagrin, he submits himself into the dark corners of the city, losing himself in drugs and the lure of seedy cinemas where the flesh trade takes him to a netherworld.

One day, while on a train, Mario sees Solita (Solita del Sol), an enigmatic girl who has infatuated him so. He breaks up with the disgruntled Mona (who turns out to be a transgender), and starts pursuing the elusive Solita. Mario is further introduced to exciting experiences so foreign from his sensibilities - and he likes them. He meets Carlos (Carlos Celdran), a tourist guide, who reminds him that what molds people is his past. This is a country that spent “300 years in a convent and 50 years in Hollywood”. Carlos takes Mario to his lover Tessa (Tesa Martinez), a photographer who convinces Mario to model for her. But what Mario belatedly finds out is that Carlos and Tessa are “frustrated vampires”. On occasion, they wear fangs and role-play the part.

Things come to a head when Mario gets pursued by Raul who’s agonizing over his sexual relationship with Donato, unaware of the latter's love for him. Things downspiral when Raul learns that his movie project isn’t pushing through. Will Mario find his way in the realm of artists and the elite? How will Raul survive without Donato’s money or influence?
 

Elwood Perez’s “Esoterika Maynila” isn't for everyone, thus the apropos titling. But its unlikely charm rests in its idiosyncratic story telling and psychedelic vibe. It is whimsical and occasionally bewildering. The script, co-written by Perez and Jessica Zafra, has an astute sense of dynamism and intelligence. The story could have benefited from a judicious splicing of a number of narrative strains. But Perez imbues it with adequate verve and dedication that despite its flaws, the audience is taken for a capricious, albeit captivating ride. It veers into “Crying Game” territory (and you see this a mile away) then gets right back to its intended course.

You can’t miss the film's homoerotic flourishes. Three of its characters are transgenders (Gilda played by Boots Anson-Roa, Mona and Solita); there are fellating scenes between Raul and Donato, then again between Raul and a male prostitute inside a cinema; and there’s Solita’s full frontal revelation. (Yup, no need to blink. It hangs down in its full flaccid glory.)

Liang’s liplocking scenes with the epileptic Tanada feel irrelevant. You have a sneaking suspicion that they're set up for Tanada's amusement than to move the narrative. It would have been easier to swallow if Tanada studied his convulsive fits more realistically. Like a true patron of modern day Pink Cinema, Perez unnecessarily includes a nocturnal scene with Liang waking up while one of his cousins masturbate on his bed. And the point being...? But the film’s brave indulgences are refreshing. If anything, this is largely unforeseen because I absolutely hated Perez’s pretentious opus “Otso” (2013).  

Ronnie Liang has an imposing presence. His handsome face and sculpted frame make him a worthy protagonist because despite his passive demeanor, he is able to command attention. While it is true that Liang is occasionally too stolid and too tentative to persuade us of his character, he benefits from the early “innocent demeanor” of the naive provinciano. After all, his character is on a journey of self discovery. On paper, it's easy to believe that he represents the chaste soul who eventually gets corrupted by the inherent vices and conceit of the big city. He required coaching in some scenes, like when he suddenly jeers, "Abominable! But that's sodomy!" It was too awkwardly and painfully delivered that for the rest of the screening, I suffered from diction-induced visceral toothache.

Vince Tanada, on the other hand, continues to repel us with his over-the-top histrionics. It would be instructive to tell him to temper down his theatrics because his emotive skills are too obvious, too crass that at some point he comes off as either annoying or just plain silly. Federico Olbes, in his geriatric debut, is a find. His skill is raw and at times gawky, but his look and stance (not to mention his vacillations to French, Spanish and English lines) provide a delectable character to the twisted story.

The film likewise gathers an enviable line-up of personalities doing cameos: John Hall, Snooky, Serna (her scenes are from Lance Raymundo’s indie flick, “Fidel”); Cecile Guidote-Alvarez, Jessica Zafra (who looked too pained to be in front of the camera), Tessa-Prieto-Valdez, singer OJ Mariano, et.al.  

Perez has painted a cinematic canvas of an urban landscape where impossibilities unravel. It isn't always a pretty picture, but they are part of contemporary reality. In the film, there’s an unsettling acknowledgement of the presence of fetishes and of what others would deem as deviant. Somewhere in its exposition is a subtle appeal for acceptance or tolerance. They don't make hindrances to one's notion of success.   

Francis Jun Posadas' "Aninag" - Back to the Past (aka Documenting Bad)

When a recruiter took off and disappeared with Aldo’s (Lance Raymundo) down payment for his application for overseas work, all he could do was go home to his wife Alma (KC Miller) and sulk. But the indomitable human spirit takes him to another agent who could be legitimate this time. Trouble is, a placement fee of P20,000 is required to get his foot in the door… and he’s all tapped out. In fact, bills are piling up at home and Alma is knocking on friends’ doors for help. 

To do her part, Alma secretly turns to her friend Jem (Lang Lopez) who works as a prostitute. She takes Alma to her boyfriend and pimp Gardo (Andrew Nanos). 

For her rite of passage, Gardo sleeps with the reluctant Alma who didn't realize there were two guys to "sample" her as her first clients - then she earns her P20,000. What’s worse, the dastardly deed was recorded for commercial, albeit underground distribution. Alma comes home with the cash, but is visibly shaken. 

One day, Aldo gets hold of the new “scandal” in town; that of Alma’s. All hell breaks lose, and Aldo menacingly drives Alma away. What could have been a promising marital future has turned into a tenebrous situation. When it’s this grim and gloomy, would there be a flicker of hope , i.e. “aninag”, for the couple? (Swak ba?)

The Girlie Flick (aka B-movie eroticas) has always existed in our country, whether you like it or not. This genre has considerably dwindled and almost disappeared in the first decade of the new millennium. Contributory to this was the refusal of the largest chain of cinemas to show them. Less venues meant limited profitability. But lo and behold, they are gradually making a comeback, competing with the venues where Pink Films used to thrive. Ignoring or disregarding them altogether, as though they do not exist, won't hide the fact that they are a piece of the pie of Philippine Cinema. You just cannot disregard the runt in a litter because they actually exist.

I am repeatedly asked why I give time and write about these films. The answer is simple really: Because they exist! Sometime in the early 70's, eccentric artist Andy Warhol produced several "underground films" notorious for being crude, amateurish and indecent, like "Trash", "Heat", "Flesh" and "Flesh for Frankenstein". The films mostly featured Joe Dallesandro (left), the pioneer of the male sexual revolution, who mostly flaunted his bare essentials, traipsing from scene to scene fully naked.

Director John Waters likewise came up with "Mondo Trasho", "Hairspray" and "Pink Flamingo" (with the obese transexual Divine who, in one scene, even ingested the feces of his pooping dog). Yes, they were trashy and decadent, but decades into the future, the audience found amusement in how ridiculously bad and laughable they were, they essentially became entertainment. These days, the films of Warhol and Waters are frequently screened as retrospective features in London's British Film Institute. Who would have thought? The movie watching experience opened my mind. How can we totally comprehend what a good film is if we haven't seen the worst of them? Now, imagine if these films were totally ignored or undocumented? There'd be no musical remake of the delightful "Hairspray", right?  

Back to the local scene, Director Francis Jun Posadas tells a straight forward story that takes us back to the 90’s when women were the focal subject of soft erotica; those B-flicks that Seiko Films “proudly” churned out because "they must be good". In fact, Posadas directed a flurry of such films: “Itlog”, “Kaulayaw”, “Tampisaw”, “Bakat”, “Kerida”, “Balat-Sibuyas”, and dozens more. The good news is, Posadas doesn't resort to those gag-inducing protracted showers and ambiguous sexualities to move his story. He takes the “straighter” route and puts the fairer sex back to the spotlight. By doing so, the story becomes a more credible affair than the fantastical yarn of the execrably non-thinking Pink directors like G.A. Villafuerte, Paul Singh Cudail, Darry dela Cruz, Cleo Paglinawan, Ronald Rafer, Toni Te and Jigz Recto – an exclusive company of the country’s most God-awful film makers. "Pinabili ng suka, nakapulot ng camera, director na," as they're frequently referred to. Unfortunately, the earlier good news stops there. While Posadas is a notch higher as a story teller, his film making skill leaves much to be desired. In fact, he takes us back 20 years in the past. And let's not pretend that this vehicle is a thespian's plate. I'd be better off dancing the hula than extolling the artistic virtues of these actors. So I tell it as I see it. Fair?

Clocking at less than an hour, the scenes are carelessly shot, thought it somehow benefits from brisk editing. While Aldo discusses his options with the new recruiter, the scene goes on without a sound. What’s this? A game of guessing mimed statements? Several other important scenes roll along with no audio, as when Aldo confronts his wife. They bickered and yelled at each other yet we couldn't hear a thing! Cinematography is so bad that the images seem like blurred pencil sketches. Moreover, you couldn't read the names of the cast when the credits roll. Cinema is a visual medium. If you cannot deliver valid visuals, turn to radio drama which doesn't require moving images. While Posadas' style is a throwback to a different era when women were the more desirable objects, and is thus surprisingly refreshing, those movies – like this one – were irrefutably bad. And bad isn't good! Ask Vhong Navarro.  

From the top (clockwise): Lance Raymundo, KC Miller, Andrew Nanos, Jayvee Capio, Jerome Tolentino, Lang Lopez

Lance Raymindo

Andrew Nanos

KC Miller (above and below)

KC Miller

Fidel - Chronicles of a Fallen Man

For the first 45 minutes, we were subjected to an endless barrage of question-and-answer - "Did he kill the Arab?"; ""I killed him!" This sentiment was irritatingly repeated ad nauseam until I was almost tempted to throw my Coca Cola at the silver screen. Almost everyone in the movie was given his 10-minute spotlight to grieve for Fidel (Lance Raymundo) - the saint who couldn't swat a fly but who bludgeoned an Arab (Jon Hall) to death. Every written character contributed to an annoyingly amateurish work that once again underscored why the digital wave isn't such a good thing.

Of course we already know 10 minutes into the movie that Fidel was raped, but whatever urgency that this brings to the narrative is diluted by the over-the-hill performances and too many scenes that didn't deserve to be mounted on screen. As the movie comes to an end, what was meant as an explosive scene - where Von Arroyo goes ballistic from out of the blue - only highlighted the glaring hilarious excesses of a storyteller who's tentative of where his story was headed!

Heto pa: The morons (who represented the government) mouthed diplomatic jargons - and i was reduced to fits of laughter. Honey, the international community does NOT care about Filipinos in Dubai death row. CNN pa?

And if you haven't noticed, Fidel actually killed his Arab employer to avenge his "deflowering" - not as a means of self defense! He acted on impulse way after the alleged crime of "rape" was committed. In fact, he was already released from his "bondage" when he suddenly attacked his employer! THAT, my dear, is not just manslaughter but MURDER!

In Fidel's case, there is the intent to do injury, the willful disregard for life; a state of mind referred to as malice aforethought!

Fidel deserves to rot in jail because he placed the law into his own hands! The death of the Arab didn't happen during Fidel's struggle to defend himself!

Hay naku!

Wasted effort!

Singing himself to sleep - in prison.