Suntok sa Buwan - Fight of the Broken

Al (Joem Bascon) is a prized pugilist. He is young, strong, focused and willful. He supports a younger sibling and a capricious father Dante (Noni Buencamino) who keeps getting into trouble. In fact, Al has to save Dante from impending harm – by paying off his debts from a blustering loan shark (Roldan Aquino) who has began to terrorize Dante.

Lauro (Daniel Fernando) is an over-the-hill boxer at the twilight of his career. He has overstayed where others his age should have decamped and retired. Sporting a pot belly, a brittle resolve, and the stamina that’s seen better days, Lauro is desperate for a win. It’s his last grasp at glory – and employment, what with his piling debts and a rent that’s three months due. The two boxers gear up for the fight of their lives.

A few days before the match, Lauro encounters personal tragedy, while Al hurts his fist after once again redeeming his father from impending doom. How will this stir what could have been an uneven match? Who will come out victorious?

The narrative catch in directors Bianca Catbagan and Jose Antonio de Rivera’s “Suntok sa Buwan” gradually unravels as we follow the opponent’s days leading to the match. The buildup is deliberate and strings us to the necessary empathy. After all, we can’t be an unconcerned audience. We are tasked to somehow take a side which becomes an arduous dilemma after witnessing each of the fighter’s domestic conflicts.

“Suntok sa Buwan’s” structure is initially imprudent. You inadvertently notice Buencamino’s flawed character from the start and realize that he would tip the uneven balance between the fighters. He provides a nugget of inevitable tragedy. In fact, when Al hands him a wad of cash for the monthly amortization of his tricycle, Dante instead said: “Itatabi ko sa ibang bayarin!” (I’ll save it up for other expenses.) Al should have emphatically reminded him that it was intended for the tricycle. In some scenes, you notice the lines somehow adlibbed by the veteran performers, falling into incongruence with some situation in the story.

Some film making choices feel hackneyed obviously designed to provoke emotion. When coins from a piggy bank (well, a tin box) fall down the floor, the scene lingers longer than necessary to create a mood of despondency for Lauro who’s on his last few centavos. The very same tack is noticed when Lauro learns that his dog has died. Yes, we get it. He is riding the unlucky streak, and this could be a foreshadowing for his boxing match. These scenes could have been cogent had they not irreverently “milked” these moments, instead of briskly plunging into vestiges of melodrama. “Gusto mo ibili kita ng bagong tuta,” offers Maricel (Jacinta Remulla) who plays Lauro’s young wife. You can’t even pay rent of three months, honey.

There are sparks of inspiration too. When Al learns of his father’s vices, he shouts: “Paano ako aangat kung palagi kayong pabigat.” And I wanted to stand up for a well deserved ovation. But just when I was ready to brush the film off, it shifts gears and perks up as the boxing match begins. In the harrowing stage of the desperate, we get glimpses of emotions that remind us of ourselves; of specific moments in our lives when we feel we have to give it all we got. That we might lose, but we fight and persevere anyway. And with deft charisma and emotional investment, Joem Bascon and Daniel Fernando maneuver a thespic match that gives this film the punch that eventually won us over.

Joem Bascon as hardworking Al


Joem Bascon


Daniel Fernando, playing aging boxer Lauro, essays an almost broken spirit.


Jacinta Remulla plays Maricel, miscast as Lauro's wife.

Balang Araw - Hopeful Cinematic Effort

After another threat of getting fired from work, Paul (Carlo Cruz, photo below), a call center agent, impulsively buys a ticket for New Zealand and quits his job much to the consternation of his boss. Jubilant from his departure, Paul hails a cab with a chatty driver (Jao Mapa). But before he gets home, he asks to pass by a convenience store for a pack of cigarette. Meanwhile, Jeric and Benjo, a couple of street thugs (Shielbert Manuel and Alex Vincent Medina) concoct a fast heist. As Paul steps into the store, he inadvertently plunges into the pillage. Inside the store, he joins a pregnant woman (Aleera Montalla) and the two store clerks.

While the robbers muster their haul, a cop leisurely saunters inside the store. Will the victims be able to get the latter’s attention?

Archie Dimaculangan and his co-directors Franne Cheska Ramos and Jono de Rivera come up with a solid work that baits you from the start as the film gradually introduces their characters in narrative vignettes, one strain more interesting than the other. The cinematography (Ice Idanan) is quite decent. But it somehow bogs down while maneuvering for an appropriate conclusion. The earlier story telling vigor eventually loses steam and unfortunately slides into an anti-climactic epilogue – or the lack of it. In fact, you somehow feel that it’s an uncompleted work; that it deserves a better ending. What was the taxi driver’s weight into the story if he were to be made aware of a robbery and he instead drives away without doing a thing about it? Is this a depiction of the moral vacuity that pervades this society? I doubt if this is such case. Not when the running time isn’t quite 60 minutes yet. Budget, probably?

Among its performers, it’s Carlo Cruz (playing call center agent Paul) who registers strongly. In fact, you root for him way before he gets inside the convenience store. Tarhata Rico, the nursing student who sidelines as a store clerk, could do well in the business too. Aleera Montalla plays the pregnant woman, but she could have fared better with a less meretricious character. If you recall, she played the creepy Amor in Richard Somes’ “Yanggaw”. It’s unfortunate that the film wasn’t able to enveigle more sinister antagonists - bumbling but willful enough to be believable - that the film sorely needed. In fact, the concluding scenes felt more lost than intended.

A taxi driver and a couple of thugs with nothing better to do.


A feisty call center agent (Cruz) and a store clerk (Rico).

“Balang Araw” (Bullet Day) is one of the three winning scripts that won half a million grant from the first Big Shot Festival, sponsored by SM Group of Cinemas. Besting 50 other hopefuls from colleges and universities all over the country, the film clearly makes the grade. Alongside mediocre independent commercial releases, it’s a testament that there’s hope for local cinema if we produce film students like these. But is it groundbreaking? Far from it. Surely there should be better ouvres to come out from this student film festival. But this one rightfully earns its stripes.

A pregnant woman (Aleera Montalla) and a couple of store clerks (Juan Miguel Severo and Tarhata Rico).


Tarhata Rico


Alex Vincent Medina


Aleera Montalla

Miko Jacinto's Salo - Accommodating Affections

Rene (Paolo Rivero) is 30. Every day, he routinely leaves his steaming cup of coffee on his way to work. He runs a business that his family has left for him. Though relatively well off, Rene keeps to himself. He leads a solitary, albeit lonely life. He also employs a driver Levi (Kristofer King) who waits for him all day. Back home, his grandmother Mila (Anita Linda) lies on her sick bed in a coma. Rene gets regular visits from his “tita” (Perla Bautista) who does odd things for them: she (supposedly) takes care of her bedridden friend and occasionally sets the bashful Rene for blind dates. But he never quite connects with anyone. He in fact harbors a secret that had dire consequences one time he unraveled it. He is gay. And he harbors affection on Levi who unfortunately is in a committed relationship.

When another of Rene's blind dates doesn’t materialize at a beachside resort in Pangasinan, this opens an opportunity for Rene to spend time with Levi who, conveniently, prefers a naked frolic while he enjoys the ocean waves. Will Rene’s wistful glances come to a fruition? Will tattooed Levi entertain his closeted employer? Guess.

Miko Jacinto’s “Salo” (Share) is a surprising work. Unlike most pink films, Jacinto engages and dives into his narrative - frame after frame - with hardly a spoken word. In fact, most of the spoken lines are left hanging, i.e. there’s hardly an exchange of words. This eventually creates semblance of mood and nuances. “Salo” also benefits from Romy Suzara’s beautifully composed scenes, giving the impression that this isn’t your hurried, shoddy, one-take production.

But there is a problem where narrative details are concerned. Perla Bautista’s character, for example, bewilders. She’s the coquettish “tita” who “barks” loudly, spewing lines like: “Bumangon ka na. Masaya ang mundo. Naalala mo pa ba, dati sabay tayong nanlalalaki?” You aren’t sure this was meant to be spoken by an elderly matron. In another scene (where she gazes at the driver washing the car), she said: “Type ko siya. Matrona ba, magaling ding maghugas.” When told that Levi’s spoken for, she replied: “Kahit gawin mo pa akong kerida, ok lang!” And as if to seal the real identity – or sexual preference – of the character: “Nakadami ka na ba?” Though I understand that her character was meant to stir vitality to an otherwise dour story, her character is a tad too uncouth to be believable. You only have to see how matronly she dresses to feel this incongruence to her peculiar manner of speaking.

Spoilers!

Then there’s Anita Linda, Lola Mila, who’s confined to her sick bed. She doesn't move, doesn't open her eyes, doesn't speak. She was never given a line - not even for a short flashback. And the essence of Anita Linda lies in her expositions which were curiously clipped making this cameo nothing short of befuddling.

When her grandson Rene confessed that he’s actually gay, the news so distraught her, she went into coma. Yes, it's a homosexual-induced comatose it's one for the medical books! This spotlights the gravity of “coming out” – it can drive people to coma! J Moreover, the whole time she lay on her bed, we don’t see her with an IV line or a nasogastric tube. Since she never wakes up; how then does she feed? What’s funnier was when Mila eventually expired, this was when we find evidence of life: a pulsating jugular neck veins and the flickering of lashes. Wee.

Paolo Rivero and Kristoffer King have been around in the business so it doesn’t surprise that they lend their scenes a degree of realism and natural grace. Director Jacinto seems also aware of the thespic limitations of Jeff Luna (who plays King’s live-in partner Manny) so his spoken scenes have been played down; his dramatic lines are cleverly shot with half of his body partially covered by frames or shadows.

Because of its genre, de rigueur scenes of nudity find Rivero and King in states of undress, each has 4 bathing scenes, while King shares a shower with Jeff Luna. Showers and bathing scenes constitute a salient feature of a Pinoy Pink, didn’t you know? But consider King’s amusing scenes at the beach: he runs towards the shore then gradually takes his clothes off as he plunges into the waters. Between huge boulders, he pulls down his briefs then sits on a rough bed of pointy, sandy, scratchy corals. Can you imagine what particles get lodged in his anatomical crevices? Ouch.

Despite carefully planned scenes and artistic experimentations, there’s something gravely disturbing about an elder lady – a “tita” – who advocates polygamy. I was having second thoughts if Perla Bautista wasn’t meant to play a transvestite. Let me cogitate on that.

Jeff Luna, the sexy king of monotones.

Note:

Please read our featured post on Cinema Bravo and why we're sometimes nginig about Web Criticism:
- http://makemeblush2.blogspot.com/2016/10/cinema-bravo-film-criticisms-execrable.html

Nick de Ocampo's Cine Sine - A Look Into the Origins of Cinema

The past gives us clues on how we arrive at the present, and stirs us to a path into the future. This is why history is always a crucial feature we always have to consider. Documentary film maker Nick De Ocampo’s “Cine Sine” looks back at the early beginnings of the moving picture, i.e. “cinema” in the country.

This popular art form survived invasions and colonization. While the very first images were seen in Europe, i.e. that of a train pulling into a train station - the first audience had to scamper for safety, fearful of getting run over by this cinematic train; the local audience had a more austere introduction. Cinema in fact grew during the time of war. On the first day of January 1897, at #12 Interior, the first screening of a moving picture materialized in a private residence in Escolta, the oldest street in the walled city of Intramuros. It was the house of Senor Francisco Pertierra. It showed 4 film clips: a man with a hat, a boxing match, a Japanese dance and a plaza outside a Parisian opera house. These were the very first flickering images seen in the country. A few days later, another film screening occurred at the second floor of a jewelry shop of the Ullmann Brothers, just a few skips from the first venue. From then, the residents commenced their love affair with the film medium which flourished during Spain’s three centuries of colonial rule.

The first film shown in public was presented by a gentleman from Aragon (Spain) a year later, showing and shuffling documentaries on European natural calamities and other “contemporary events” from films in Paris. It ran for 3 weeks and cost 50 cents for chairs and 30 cents for benches at the back. It even had 4 regular screening schedules that ran from 6 PM to 10 PM.

Escolta

More than anything, film reflects the pervasive cultural mores in a struggling populace. It also provides insight on our influences. In 1919, Jose Nepomuceno produced the first Filipino film – “Dalagang Bukid” based on a musical zarzuela (a genre that alternates spoken and sung scenes). Nepomuceno would eventually acquire the title: “The Father of Philippine Movies”.

Nick De Ocampo recreates Escolta through 3D animations and visual effects (by Roy Dadivas). Sprucing them with anecdotes from a distant past, taking us into illustrious houses of old made of stones (“bahay na bato”) and leading us into the evolution of the cinema. Personalities were further interviewed: Bienvenido Lumbera, Bambi Harper, flamenco dancer Guillermo Gomez, and even Raul Pertierra – nephew of the one who introduced the medium to the country. We are then exposed into important works that made a dent in painting the Pinoy psyche through the years, by featuring snippets of characters from these films: There’s Kulas (a very charming – and young – Christopher de Leon) who strives to become a “Pilipino” in the eyes of ascendant upper-tier characters (Eddie Garcia, Gloria Diaz) in Eddie Romero’s “Ganito Kami Noon, Paano Kayo Ngayon”; there’s the socially and sexually repressed Rosenda (the spectacular Lolita Rodriguez) in Lino Brocka’s “Bukas, Madilim, Bukas” (for the omnibus Brocka flick, “Tatlo, Dalawa, Isa”); there’s the mentally challenged Koala (Lolita Rodriguez, once again) in another Brocka masterpiece, “Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang” as she communes with a leper (Mario O’Hara) and the lone symbol of hope, Junior (Christopher de Leon).

The film also lays the briskly evolving trends, like the employing of American-sounding names like Dorothy Jones which later became Nida Blanca to swing with public preference for Hispanic-sounding names (weren’t we referred as the Asian Latinos then?). Rose Stagner became Rosa del Rosario, the first movie queen, and local cinema’s very first Darna in 1951!

Then, as it is now, it was almost customary to employ half-breeds and fair-skinned talents, thus many of the stars bear Caucasian blood.

Sometime in the 60’s a phenomenon arose when a timid and dark skinned girl came to the fore – Nora Aunor, who would become local cinema’s one and only Superstar! While scenes from Ishmael Bernal’s “Himala” beamed at Aunor, the camera pans to a devout Elsa , kneeling on a hill, eyes shut, and praying to the heavens. And I was cloaked with stark realization of how unbelievably beautiful she was. I have never considered Ms. Aunor particularly beautiful, but gazing at her – long dark hair billowing in mid-air, face free from Belo-style modifications, eyes gazing in crystal compunction – I had goosebumps as she eventually turned to a devout crowd, shouting, “Walang himala!” There has never been an actress as cinematically potent as La Aunor, and I am starting to understand her mystique from this re-introduction.

The pervasive theme of repression, a Eurocentric architectural influence, the origin of several terms from such Hispanic era – takilya, balkonahe, orkestra, telon, kurtina, entablado, silya, kwarto de proyeksiyon, and so on - each item present in and around these moving images. How have we conveniently forgotten our roots? And I can only be grateful to have been reminded.

Though the animation is more than adequate in recreating the Escolta of the 1800s, a few scenes feel like watching the graphics of an online game. But most of the film’s quibble, though minor, comes from De Ocampo’s decision to present the facts himself. For one, he has verbal crutches which prove a tad distracting to the audience, i.e. his long “E’s” and short “I’s”. “Influenced”, for example, becomes “in-floo-wenced” with accent on the second syllable, where it should be first. “Individual” becomes “in-di-vee-dwal”. “Religion” becomes “re-lee-gion”. “Armada” becomes “ar-may-da”. “Seeks” becomes “six”. “Still” becomes “steel”. For documentaries to be more effective, a presenter is preferred to be devoid of these presenting crutches so its audience can concentrate more on the voluminous details. This of course doesn’t say we think less of this work. In fact, we do believe that “Cine Sine” deserves to be seen by the movie-loving Pinoys. And aren’t we all?

Jose Nepomuceno, the Father of Philippine Movies. Produced the first Filipino movie, "Dalagang Bukid".



Kulas: Fitting into a society with identity crisis in "Ganito Kami Noon, Paano Kayo Ngayon".



Rosenda finally fights back against her repressed existence in Brocka's "Tatlo, Dalawa, Isa". Every actor should watch this scene where the amazing Lolita Rodriguez hardly raised her voice, yet she spewed enough venom for her controlling mother (Mary Walter).

Nora Aunor - such beauty and grace as Elsa, the visionary and stigmatic in Bernal's "Himala".


Rosa del Rosario had to change her name from Rose Stagner, a fil-am beauty who would become the first "Darna".

Acknowledgment for the various photos: manilahub.i.ph, philippine-history.org, video48.blogspot.com, manilablog.com, pelikulaatbp.blogspot.com, mars ravelo website

Kim Ki Duk's Breath - The Retaliatory Feminist Tale

Yeon (Park Ji-ah) is transfixed to her television news where Jang jin, an inmate on deathrow, is rushed to a hospital after yet another suicide attempt. It’s Jang jin’s second try while awaiting for his punitive comeuppance within a month.

Yeon, a neglected wife, is frustrated. She recently discovers that her husband (Jung-woo Ha) is having an affair. Her morbid introspection has brought her to a decision: she will enveigle a relationship with the news-worthy convict. She understands the repressive atmosphere of a prison. She lives in one. In the process, she also gets back at his unrepentant husband’s infidelity.

Prisoner 5796 Jang jin (Taiwanese actor Chang Chen) has curtailed his capacity to speak by self mutilating the voice box (larynx) of his throat every time he attempts to end his life. He shares a cell with peculiar beings: an artist who makes the prison walls his canvas; a massage therapist; and a younger guy who’s infatuated with Jang jin. One day, he receives Yeon, an unexpected visitor from left field who pretends to be his former girlfriend. Though he’s never met her before, he’s intrigued by her impetuous behavior. During her visits, Yeon depicts the changing of the seasons by painstakingly decorating the visitor’s room with thematic wall papers (she even recreates fall season at Seorak Mountain); sprucing azalea flowers all over, and even dressing up for the part. At the end of each visit, Yeon leaves him a photo which eventually gets stolen, torn to pieces inside Jang jin’s cell.

When Yeon’s husband gets wind of her activities (something that she doesn’t hide from him), he begrudgingly ends his extramarital ties. Will this stop Yeon from seeing Jang jin?

Director Kim Ki Duk weaves another enchanting tale that hooks you from the opening scene to its last frame. Like most of his flicks, the director muddles major details of the story and offers them in enticing bits much later as the story unravels. This keeps his viewer waiting with bated breath. Kim Ki Duk is one of my favorite auteurs. In fact, his works are on proud display in my DVD room. I have 12 of his 17 directorial efforts and was only too thrilled to get this copy four years after its international release.

Spoilers!

“Breath” isn’t as tight a narrative as his earlier efforts, but you can’t deny the artistic vision of the master director. There are a few holes in the story: why did Yeon’s husband deny her sexual advances if he indeed wanted to make a go of their relationship? How is Yeon able to beautifully wall paper the Hansung prison room every time she visits Jang jin? When Yeon and Jang Jin were finally able to consummate their inscrutable relationship, what explains Yeon’s demeanor of holding her lover’s breath? The scene, which eventually made the film’s title, baffles.

Chang Chen smolders. His every scene beckons and captivates. It takes a while to figure out the non speaking convict, and its easy to gravitate toward his character. We later realize that Jang jin was convicted for killing his wife and her children.

Kim Ki Duk curiously cameos as the “voyeur” who watches over the unseemly lovers in the confines of his security office. God complex, Mr. Kim? In the past, he has been accused of misogyny, but “Breath” is curiously feminist. Ji-ah perceptively depicts the unbeloved wife and provides the emotional crux of an otherwise disaffected narrative. In Yeon’s desperation, she wills to redress her marital inequity. But when we find her singing her heart out to entertain Jang jin, we feel her internal conflict. Some emotions are too potent to hide.

Park Ji-ah

Chang Chen


Chang Chen is a popular Taiwanese actor who has appeared in "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon", "Happy Together", "Three Times, and "Red Cliff". "Breath" is his first Korean movie.


Jung-woo Ha


Jung-woo Ha is the unfaithful husband.


Director Kim Ki Duk studied fine arts in Paris. He has directed 17 feature films including my favorite, "The Isle" and "Samaritan Girl". Am looking forward to finding his documentary "Arirang", "Dream", "Amen", and the intriguing "Real Fiction".

Release - In the Realm of an English Pink

There’s never quite like the Pinoy Pink Film in terms of temperament, ambition (read: the lack of it), artistic limitation or in-your-face mediocrity. Then I saw Darren Flaxtone and Christian Martin’s “Release”. The comparison may be a little unfair for this British flick, but the narrative progression and artistic choices that the directors take echo this local emergence.

Father Jack Gillie (Daniel Brocklebank) gets incarcerated for euthanizing his younger brother afflicted with terminal stage leukemia. But this detail is kept from his prison mates, thus everyone thinks of him as the pedophile. His conflicted demeanor draws him to a new prison guard, the idealistic Martin Crane (Garry Summers) who in his quest to do good for mankind turns to the penal system. (Go figure!) The two eventually fall in love. Unfortunately, pedophiles are as reviled among inmates. Jack gets spat at and taunted for his “sins”. It doesn't help that he’s bunked in with a young inmate Rook (Wayne Virgo) who has an issue with influential Max (Bernie Hodges) – and Max is out to get Rook in more ways than one.

The narrative is riddled with a coterie of issues to chew on, none of which is legibly handled: religion, mercy killing, morality in a prison community, homosexuality. You hardly feel any authentic insight into any of these issues. In fact, much of these items conflict with each other. The irony here goes: Jack – the Catholic priest – has totally embraced his homosexuality. We witness no sense of guilt, an issue solely highlighted and deftly handled in insightful movies like Antonia Bird’s “Priest” (where Linus Roach is torn between the religion he preaches and serves and his secret life as a homosexual). In retrospect, we have a priest who believes in mercy killing; a priest who bears no scruples having a male lover. Sure, these things happen, but when someone of his stature doesn’t even feel a degree of conflict in his lifestyle and the teachings he’s supposed to live by, why bother being one?

The story is further weighed down by plot holes the size of Mars. How can Jack and Martin continuously share a concupiscent night in a prison cell without Martin’s fellow guards wondering where he went? Jack is in a bunk with young Rook, what does he tell his younger cellmate – I’m gonna pop out for a fag? Didn't Rook ever wonder? A scene involving the female warden and Max has the latter blackmailing the warden with a mere power of suggestion which is almost laughable. Was she hypnotized? Why does Max hate a pedophile so much when he is surrounded by cold-blooded killers - like himself? Besides, couldn't Jack inform them what brought him inside? That would have ended all the speculations and acts of dissension. It is, after all, a sin to tell a lie. More so, if you’re a priest.

Martin and Jack

The film boasts of a judicious number of full frontals from everyone. In fact, gratuitous nudity becomes this film. In a scene where Max and his horde attack nubile-bodied Rook at the shower hall, there’s an awkward hybrid of violence and nudity as the young prisoner gets bludgeoned by "socked batteries" and the physical assault of Max and his gang. Genitals fly around, swiftly flailing on mid air and against gravity in a winceful spate of violence. Yes, there are several shower scenes – and they’re not bashful where flashing of crowned jewels are concerned - so who says those lingering shower scenes are exclusively Pinoy Pink fodder?

What brought me to watch this film is the reference to Simon Pearce and Christian Martin’s “Shank”. “Release” comes from the same people. Unfortunately, the story is pretty much a muddled artistic fare. The dream sequences, for example, confuse more than move the plot. Wayne Virgo, who was brilliant in “Shank” seemed lost and groping in the dark. His character, which carries the baffling plot twist as the film draws to a close, felt like an artifice for an undeserved deus ex machina. How easily can you turn a coat from heralding a friendly face to the opposite end of the spectrum? You hear a whisper from someone who almost mauled you to death, and you snap into enlightenment? Seriously?

Rational, credible character motivation has been disregarded. In fact, the film neglects the believable progression of Martin and Jack’s relationship which, for the most part, is a maneuvered relationship. It also dispenses lines that, though interesting, feels empty in the context of the story: “There are far worse things than damnation.” Like watching one of our pink films, that’s for sure. There’s more. Jack gets some verbal tussle with Max. “The path of the righteous is beset on all sides by the tyranny of evil men.” Reply: “To thine own self be true. As night follows days, I know who I am.” Inspired already?

Martin does his night rounds


Wayne Virgo plays Rook, Jack's bunk mate.



Dream sequence of Jack roaming the Bristol woodlands


Jack cleans his dirty hands.


Rook gets hurt.





Daniel Brocklebank


Garry Summers as idealistic prison guard Martin.


Wayne Virgo plays Rook.