Sheron Dayoc's "Women of the Weeping River"- War Will End Us

Sometime in the early 90's, feminist writer Leila Ahmed discussed the concept of "Women and Gender" in Islam. She argued against the oppressive practices to which women in the middle east are subjected. Such practices result from the prevalence of patriarchal interpretations of Islam, one that patronizes gender-based hierarchy. 

Men decide and dictate, women follow regardless of the merits of any given situation. Opinionated women are frowned upon. On a more universal scrutiny of the concept, look where that got Hillary Clinton who's more experienced, more intelligent and probably even more vicious than her political rival.

The new millennium has made strides to improve on these concepts, but despite the evolution of "Gender and Development (GAD)" and its introduction in governance, many middle eastern countries remain immune to or simply ignore such programs. In countries like Iran and Afghanistan, women are still regarded as second-class citizens; their opinions are disposable. But look no further. The same is true in certain Muslim communities in Mindanao where a certain form of war (conflict, hostility) is sanctioned by men. Any perceived transgression or dishonor is solved by "war". That's what their quran advocates, after all.

This scenario is on spotlight in Sheron Dayoc's "Women of the Weeping River" which won a well deserved Best Picture prize at the recent QCinema Film Festival.

THE STORY

Satra’s  (Laila Putli Ulao) family is deeply enmeshed in a clan war against the Ismael family. The feud has them in sporadic outbursts of retaliatory violence. 

After the murder of Hasmullah, Satra’s husband, Satra is shook up. Farida, the aging community mediator, advises to diffuse any action that will further escalate this endless rido before it claims another life.

This blood war has already claimed the husband and son of the rival clan’s matriarch. But Mustafa, Satra’s father, is bent to carry on with his jihad which dictates protection of a family’s honor and shame. The cash-strapped family even sells Satra’s jewelries just to purchase a P120,000 rifle. One night, Hassim, Satra’s youngest son wanders off into the wilderness. Will he fall victim like his father?

Sheron Dayoc’s “Women of the Weeping Violence” is a brave dissertation on the culture of war endemic in Muslim Mindanao. This malignant practice consumes life and eradicates property - and it displaces families. On a more sociological standpoint, it cripples the local community. 

Dayoc insightfully scrutinizes a local tradition, not uncommon in Philippine society, where men has absolute authority over women who barely have voices of their own. He also underscores the tragic futility of war by spotlighting the demise of innocent children caught between warring factions. Like most of the director’s early works, amateur actors are adequately employed to mirror realism. The effect isn't always notable, but it brings a degree of earnestness on the yarn spinning. As the movie comes to a close, it was clear what the ultimate message was. As H.G. Wells once said, “If we don’t end war, war will end us.” 

There are no real victors in it.

The beauty of Mindanao has a deceptive nature.

Read our post on Cinema Bravo and the Headaches of Web Criticism:
- http://makemeblush2.blogspot.com/2016/10/cinema-bravo-film-criticisms-execrable.html


#womenoftheweepingriver   #clanwar   #jihad   #qcinema

Kim Nguyen's War Witch - Senselessness

Like most people in the sub-Saharan territory, Komona (Rachel Mwanza) lives in the squalor of her riverside community. At 12 years old, her village is invaded by rebel forces, headed by one called the “Great Tiger” (Mizinga Mwinga), who forcibly recruit and kidnap children, transforming them into ruthless soldiers. For Komona, she was ordered to shoot her parents with an AK-47. “Shoot them, or I will kill them with a machete, and they will suffer more,” prods the invader. She does so, thus she was taken to the rebel camp where they’re forced into manual labor.

At an encounter with government forces, Komona becomes the sole survivor. She is bestowed the superstitious tag, the “War Witch” – she who’s able to see hiding enemies in the ornery jungles. At 13, she meets their fascinating rebel leader, believed to possess magical powers much like a “spirit medium”. Komona is further “deputized” as a lucky charm; someone who could help the rebels avoid imminent death and eventually win their war. She meets Magician (Serge Kanyinda), a fellow child soldier, who constantly looks after her. One day, Magician convinces her to desert the rebel forces. They leave and fall in love. Unfortunately, the life and gruesome past of a “war witch” aren't easier abandoned. What future does Komona have?

 Two years ago, Gerard Butler appeared in a film called “Machine Gun Preacher”. The film, based on real events, centers on Sam Childers (Butler), a former biker who turned preacher and defender of African orphans kidnapped by the malevolent forces of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) led by Joseph Kony believed to have recruited between 60,000 to 100,000 child soldiers and displaced around 2 million people throughout South Africa. The LRA is a militant religious, albeit superstitious cult, operating in Northern Uganda, South Sudan (the setting of “Machine Gun Preacher”), and the Democratic Republic of Congo where “War Witch” was filmed. Komona’s story might as well be a chapter in Sam Childers’ chronicles. That being said, “War Witch” is a fitting companion piece to the less successfully realized “Machine Gun Preacher”.

Director Kim Nguyen’s “War Witch” (Rebelle) sets his narrative in an unnamed African country, giving spotlight to this virulent infliction of brutal wars in African territories. Nguyen tells his story with impressionistic strokes that's almost anti-schmaltz. Half way through the story, he unexpectedly lunges into rom-com territory: Magician proposes to Komona who would agree to marry the former if he finds her a “white rooster” as a sort-of dowry; one of the traditional pre-wedding practices in the region. Problem is, white roosters are exceedingly rare in Africa. The film swerves to a different flavor when Komona is re-captured by the rebels (after all, how can they win the war without their “witch”) who then becomes sex slave to a rebel commandant (Alain Lino Mic Eli Bastien). To exact her revenge, she finds an avocado seed, cuts it to its core, insinuates a razor blade inside, then places the seed inside her vagina. You can just imagine what transpires with a “forcible entry”, right?

The real Lord's Resistance Army

Nguyen delivers his exposition with bewitching narrative artifice, like showing Komona’s parents as ghosts – ashen faced and solitary. Their society believes, much like ours, that the dead has to be properly buried for their souls to rest. This has Komona’s ghostly parents intermittently haunting her, pleading for a proper burial. In these impressionistic expositions, we find a world that's far removed from ours, but these reflections offer glimpses into a universal truth: war is senseless. There is a need for constant reminders, but people keep forgetting anyway.

“War Witch” is one of the five Oscar nominees in this year’s Best Foreign Language Film category. It is Canada's entry to the Academy. It already won several awards including Berlin's 2012 Silver Bear Best Actress Award for its 14 year old lead Rachel Mwanza who likewise won at the Tribeca Film Festival. Interestingly, Mwanza was discovered by Nguyen on the streets of Kinshasa, the capital of Congo. Just FYI, Brillante Mendoza's "Captive" joined Berlin's 2012 Main Competition - the first time a Filipino film was able to penetrate the Main Competition in 3 decades after Bernal's "Himala".

  

Komona meets the "Great Tiger".

Restless "ghosts"

Komona's parents ask for proper burial.

Director Kim Nguyen

Brillante Mendoza's Captive - Making War and Terrorism a Mundane Enterprise

In the darkest evening of 2001, Abu Sayyaf bandits invade the island resort of Dos Palmas, just off the coast of Puerto Princesa, Palawan. They pilfer the rooms and take the occupants as hostages, many of whom are foreigners. They ferry their victims to Basilan, taking them through the jungle, over hills, using them as pawns against military operations and peddling them for multimillion peso ransoms. From the outset, these hostages are ironically given disclaimers: that their captors practice a high level of morality, and that “man shouldn’t touch woman” unless they’re married of course. But this false sense of security is gradually shattered as the hostages battle bondage, hunger, illness, rough living conditions, and the shenanigans of their captors. Ransoms are gradually set according to occupation (“Missionaries, walang pera ‘yan!), stature (“May ari kayo ng bangko?”),  age (“Dapat iniwan nyo na yan. Pababagalin tayo nyan.”), race (“Chinese ka? Eh di madami kang pera.”), profession (doctors and nurses in a hospital are taken as well, like the characters of Angel Aquino, Allan Paule, and Che Ramos), etc.

VICTIMS

Among these victims, we follow Therese (Isabelle Huppert), a French missionary who has been roaming the country for her missionary work for 5 years; and her septuagenarian colleague Soledad (Rustica Carpio). For almost one year, the victims agonize getting caught in the crossfire against the government’s military forces (“We see their helicopters fly over us. They see us, but they shoot us anyway,” bemoans one victim.) When leader Abu Saiyed (Raymond Bagatsing) fancies a girl (Che Ramos), she gets taken to the hill and offered marriage; a proposition she couldn’t refuse. A lady doctor (Angel Aquino) gets raped by Saiyed’s successor (Sid Lucero). 

To celebrate Philippine Independence Day, a “white man” is beheaded as “gift to the President”.  When Soledad falls ill and dies, Therese gets attached to shy, 12-year old Hamed who was “recruited” after a siege in his village. One morning, a henchman (Ronnie Lazaro) gets a visit from a friend (Joel Torre) who was accompanying a TV journalist (Arlyn dela Cruz) for the requisite “proof of life”. As individual negotiators acquiesce, ransoms are predatorily hiked up. Though some of the victims get released, it becomes clear that the intention was to keep more hostages – and milk the situation for whatever it's worth. Will Therese and her colleagues survive this dilemma?

Therese to French embassy: "This is crazy. But here's my number. So call me maybe."

Director Brillante Mendoza valiantly tackles a sour chapter in the querulous war in Mindanao, south of the Philippine archipelago. He loosely derives his narrative from the memoirs (“In the Presence of My Enemies”) of real life hostage survivor Grace Burnham (whose husband perished in the crisis). Mendoza never turns his back against contentious narratives. Unfortunately, he is gradually building a growing community of naysayers who scoff at his cinematic conceit. While I love most of Mendoza’s body of work – from “Masahista” to “Serbis”, from “Lola” to “Kinatay” (for which he won Cannes’ Best Director plum), Mendoza’s decision to take on this harrowing tale is suspicious. If he’s courting the attention of an international audience, by riding on the notoriety of the situation, then he obviously didn’t succeed because Cannes and Venice seemed to have rejected “Captive” from exhibition. Regardless, Berlin welcomed him with open arms.

A YEAR OF CAPTIVITY

The films is told chronologically: Day 5 in Tuburan, Basilan; Day 6 at the Jose Ma. Torres Hospital in Lamitan; Day 46 in the jungles – the contentious wedding of Joan (Ramos) to Abu Saiyed (Bagatsing); Day 183 in Sumisip, Basilan for the “proof of life”, and so on. It soon becomes clear that this seemingly scriptless, improvisational atmosphere meanders into ennui. In fact, despite the gravity of violent extermination (beheadings) and rape, these scenes feel wanting of grit, tension and urgency, unusually unbecoming of hostage dramas. For a few moments, they almost feel like nothing but extreme sports more than bandit ministrations. A picnic in the wilds, anyone?

IMPROBABLE

There are various moments of head scratching annoyance as well. When Ronnie Lazaro throws a box of Bible in the sea, Huppert fights with all her might. Surely she understood the gravity of the situation and realized that if they could easily behead an innocent man, they wouldn't hesitate to throw a penniless missionary in the sea along with her Bibles. We also find Huppert's “catfighting” with Sid Lucero (who earlier ravaged Angel Aquino) unrealistic. You simply don't provoke the devil, do you? While most victims speak with hushed tones as they step on thin glass, Huppert's Therese is impervious to the power they hold over all of them, her included. Her French government didn’t want to dole out money for ransom. Ditto her family. She was expendable. Didn’t they behead one white man for lesser infraction? 

In another scene, Madeleine Nicolas, who plays one of the hostages, takes the phone from her captors, imploring to the authorities to stop shooting at them. While this isn’t unusual, she did this in English! Sosi, debah? Were the Philippine officers States-bread and English speaking? Or was this “official time”, thus should be spoken in the Queen’s tongue? I am sure she’d be more emphatic with “Huwag nyo po kaming paputukan” than “Darn! Stop firing at us, dingbats!” 

FAITH AND DISHONOR

Moreover, in several scenes, we find the bandits praying to their Great Allah, but I find it ironic to invoke the presence and mercy of God while curtailing the liberties of others. Do they offer severed heads to Allah? How merciful is such God if they live by violence? Isn't "doing harm unto others" a foreign concept in Godliness? Surely, a powerful Maker would disallow rape, murder, terror and mayhem. Unless we’re harping on the omnipresence of a different being more akin to fire and eternal damnation – and this could not be Allah. What I am saying is, God – in his various names – couldn’t be mean, parsimonious and violent. And if His name is invoked during these random acts of violence, then He is, in the process, dishonored, isn’t He? So matakot na kayo sa pinaggagawa nyo, leche kayo! Oops! Got carried away. :)

SARIMANOK

There is a cinematic moment of pure magic in “Captive”. When Therese wakes up beside young Hamed, she found a sarimanor, a legendary and colorful bird of the Maranao (believed to be a handsome young man searching for his lovely maiden). I was transfixed to my seat. Unfortunately, this mystical moment seemed misplaced, I half expected a narrative detour going the route of Aureaus Solito’s “Busong”. If it was an allegorical element, the meaning is lost on me. 

PROPERLY SUBDUED?

War is abrasive, grungy, fatuous, and harrowing. Except for the grime, you miss these characteristics here. A reviewer was said to have labeled the film “properly subdued”, but one wonders how subtlety figures in an experience like getting raped, captured or beheaded. To call subtlety “proper” for a theme akin to “Captive” smacks of pretension. After all, which character in this seemingly tedious tale is thoroughly expounded? We only know them superficially thus it’s hard to invest empathy on anyone; even the ones that got raped. If that’s not troubling, I don’t know what is.

Another review from Lito Zulueta of the Philippine Daily Inquirer points out and I quote, “Mendoza displays mastery of visual language and skillfully calibrates sequences of carnage and atrocity with neither sensationalism nor fakery.” Fact is, you cannot downplay violence nor avoid sensationalism if the act itself is staggering, lurid and excessive. Doing so is like drinking a cup of previously steaming coffee that’s gone cold and, well, flat. You lose the visceral component of the experience. Such is the case in “Captive” where the aforementioned atrocity becomes mere child’s play. And terrorism is never just a child's play. 

Isabelle Huppert is more masterful in this respect than her director. Her face is a canvas of crystal emotions. You look at her luminous face and realize her emotive adeptness. It’s a pity then that she shares segmented, albeit limited screen time with other actors. She deserves a back story more than just a glimpse of her life back home: that she has a daughter and two sons. Other than that, we don’t have anything else to anchor our sympathy on.  

There are several cameos from well known indie players: Coco Martin appears as a “tenyente” passing by a village (a school); there’s Kristoffer King, Neil Ryan Sese, Bernard Palanca, Baron Geisler, Mon Confiado, Tado, Maria Isabel Lopez, Mercedes Cabral, Evelyn Vargas, Anita Linda, et.al.

With a gaunt narrative flesh and tepid storytelling, your sensibility expects the ultimate denouement characteristic of other Brillante Mendoza flicks. It wasn’t there. 

She would rather ask for help in English! "Don't shoot us! Hold the fire, for Pete's sake!"

In these scenes, they hail Allah after every violent act. Something is incongruent, right?

Sarimanok. This photo only courtesy of E. San Juan Jr.'s "Ipaubaya sa Ulikba" -  http://philcsc.wordpress.com/2012/03/30/ipaubaya-sa-ulikba-tula-ni-e-san-juan-jr/

Coco Martin does a short but eye-catching cameo.

Isabelle Huppert, the pouty French superstar.