Alejandro "Bong" Ramos' Butas 2 - Confused Perspectives & Succulent Visuals

In an unfinished house made of concrete, infidelity is played out by Jiggo (Ace Castro of "Lamog") and his father’s mistress, Pia (Mocha Uson). Pia just recently arrived from a two-week Asian holiday with Jiggo’s influential father, the owner of the house. Their clandestine rendezvous is being documented by Jiggo’s video camera. The only other witness to their affair is Andoy (Rufert John Lirio), the bashful caretaker whose other vice is peeping through holes while Jiggo and Pia lollop from getting high to relishing their endless sexual games.

Jiggo is restless, willful and determined, but his ambition’s been mostly off tangent. In fact, he’s been indecisively jumping from one collegiate course to the next: from aeronautics to engineering – now he’s into films; something that has frustrated Jiggo’s father no end. Pia, on the other hand, is a former model who has succumbed to the lure of financial security offered by Jiggo’s dad. But Pia hasn’t been the good girl. She keeps hopping from one indiscretion to the next. To avoid getting spotted by her benefactor’s people, she navigates the bowels of Binangonan wearing a flurry of disguises. Meanwhile, youthful but destitute Andoy is mostly ignored by Jiggo and Pia. The soft spoken caretaker plays out his fantasies sneaking around the tenement’s crude corners, diligently spying on the sexually charged couple.

Jiggo’s recording of his concupiscent rendezvous with Pia isn’t all that whimsical or innocent. He has plans for the footages; something that would earn him money. And he couldn't care less if others get hurt along the way.

Director Alejandro “Bong” Ramos utilizes the same narrative element of the first “Butas” with Marco Morales and Gwen Garci. In fact, “Butas 2” is a retelling of sorts. Ramos ambitiously tries to up the ante by giving the viewer three perspectives: Jiggo’s, Pia’s and Andoy’s. Thus the scenarios are repeated several times from the point of view of our three protagonists. While it’s a refreshing style, the novelty soon wears off because Ramos soon recklessly transposes these perspectives. In fact, it’s easy to discern wayward perspectives. Suddenly, there were more than three perspectives and the whole exercise becomes a tedious predilection. The gimmickry will initially call your attention, but it soon becomes clear that the story’s too flimsy to be compelling. Besides, we have seen this story before, populated by different actors. The story is further hobbled by characters that the story could have done away with: the DVD pirate Obet (Alvin Duckert) and his girl friend Miranda (Jhoy Ortiz).

FACETS OF VOYEURISM

There are narrative facets that hook you like when Jiggo discusses how there are more stories that we don’t see: “May dalawang mukha ang butas – ang naninilip at ang sinisilipan.” Pia then interjects, “Gusto ko ako ang sinisilipan” – because the life of the voyeur is a sad one. It is an interesting thought. However, at some point you notice these thoughts to be wantonly moving away from the premise. Voyeurism has always been a shady part of our psyche and we're forever intrigued by what we're not supposed to see. Director David Lynch ("Twin Peaks", ""Blue Velvet", "Wild at Heart") once said, "We want to know secrets and we want to know what goes on behind those windows.There's an entertainment value to it. I think people are fascinated by that; by being able to see into a world they couldn't visit." To others, it's a sense of empowerment. There's God Complex in knowing what others do when they thought people weren't looking.

Ramos “Butas 2” boasts of several full frontals that would have you blush. Ace Castro proudly displays his considerable appendage in full, well-lit scenes, as does Alvin Duckert (in a shower scene with Jhoy Ortiz where he’s the only one doing the full monty - he doesn't even have qualms facing the camera; such a dirty dirty boy). Alvin isn't shy parading his half-Swedish falukorv (click the link below to find out what it is) in half a dozen Pink Films. Newbie Rufert John Lirio exudes innocence, thus when Jiggo playfully films him taking (yet another) shower, you feel sorry for Andoy whose most challenging scenes were his self pleasuring moments. Oohlala indeed. Even Marklen Trinidad has a surprising scene borne out of an exigent need to pepper Ramos’ cinematic canvas with as much nudity. Ramos makes G.A. Villafuerte’s films seem like Walt Disney movies.

Mocha Uson is a captivating femme fatale. What’s more, like Duckert, she isn’t shy displaying her bits-and-pieces. Unfortunately, her role doesn’t give her much thespic grit to munch on. She's merely meant to be ogled at; and not derive emotive inspirations from. But let’s hope she succeeds to crossover to mainstream cinema instead of wallowing in godawful flicks like Z Lokman’s “Seksing Masahista”.

The visuals in “Butas 2” are a joy to watch because of the film’s crystal clarity (with Jepoy Tarnate’s cinematography). Ramos further experiments with angles and views that you hardly experience in the films of Crisaldo Pablo, GA Villafuerte, Lucas Mercado, Cleo Paglinawan, Paul Singh Cudail, Edz Espiritu and other purveyors of cheap, shoddy sex flicks. Having said all that, Ramos’ weakness is in the exposition of his narrative. He eventually turns aimless. The concluding scenes in the movie feel uninspired as though they belong to a different story. Rough plot transitions occur when film makers need to suddenly complete their projects. With a rather gaunt story, “Butas 2” could have benefitted from judicious editing. Too bad they forgot to patch the holes.  

Link to check: falukorv - http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/54/Falukorv.jpg

Why would a "straight" man film his naked caretaker? Sure gives you wayward ideas.

Alvin Duckert as Obet and Rufert John Lirio as Andoy find something they could sell.

Dexter Castro as Jiggo

Mocha Uson as Pia

Rufert John Lirio as Andoy

Alvin Duckert and Marklen Trinidad want you to smell their arms.

Mocha Uson is the femme fatale Pia.

Mocha Uson

Rufert John Lirio

Rufert John Lirio peeps through a hole.

Rufert John Lirio, Mocha Uson and Dexter Castro

Note:

Please read our featured post on Cinema Bravo and why Web Criticism isn't always about good writing:
- http://makemeblush2.blogspot.com/2016/10/cinema-bravo-film-criticisms-execrable.html

Emmanuel Palo's Sta. Nina - Coco Martin and Redemption

The parched and dusty sprawl in the sleepy town of Bacolor reflects the moral stagnation that has characterized Pol Mungcal’s life in the last ten years since his two-year old daughter Marikit died from meningitis. His abode is a desolate landscape of dust, mud and haze. And he subsists by quarrying the ravages of laharland. One fateful day, children unwittingly exhume the coffin that bears Marikit’s corpse. What’s baffling? The child looks well preserved and doesn’t show signs of decay.

With steadfast resolve, Pol (Coco Martin) embraces the coffin and singlehandedly takes his “child” back to town. His thoughts are a flurry of suppositions. This can’t be mere accident. It has to mean something.

Pol lives with a demented, albeit burdensome grandmother, Lola Bining (Anita Linda), in an unfinished house. Madel (Alessandra de Rossi), Marikit’s mother and Pol’s cousin, has long abandoned Pol for a life of less scrutiny by morally supercilious and economically gaunt townsfolk. Pol even turned his back sculpting religious artifacts out of wood. For someone who has lost so much from his missteps in the past, Pol is suddenly seized by a sense of hope. Could Marikit be his ticket to redemption?  

News spreads like wildfire. Soon people from the hinterlands visit to witness a miracle; something that hardly comes to an impoverished town gripped by apathy. People seem to hold on to faith in times of desperation. The crowd outside Pol’s home grows by the day. The ailing governor even drops by, hoping there’s cure for his cirrhosis. Even the media’s been poking its ugly head. When Madel gets wind of this, she tells Pol to just bury their daughter, but he wouldn't budge. Everyone believes. But the church. After all, not a long time ago, Melchor, a young man who allegedly saw the Virgin Mary, turned out to be a hoax. These days, Melchor is a crossdressing person named Zora. He is reviled by his neighbors and “sinusuka ng simbahan”. People are understandably more circumspect.

Then ailing people start getting healed. Lola Bining regains her lucidity. The governor’s cirrhosis disappears. Ben, the dysuric neighbor, can urinate with ease. His financially struggling – and very pregnant wife Malou – wins lottery. A child’s neck mass recedes. Who can turn their back on this spate of miracles? The town experiences resurgence of religious conviction. Pol now wants his daughter’s corpse – and accompanying wooden sculptures - be blessed and proclaimed a saint. The believers soon organize a “lakbayan” (a procession) to rally for Marikit’s sainthood in front of the Bishop. What becomes of Pol, Madel. Lola Bining, and the hundreds of faithful? Is Marikit really miraculous? Or will she turn out to be another ruse like Zora?

Director Emmanuel Palo’s “Sta. Nina” rankles with an immersive premise that hooks you tightly into its exposition. In fact, the story telling is grandiose; it reminds you of the narrative dissertation of old classics like Bernal’s “Himala”. There’s diligent care in the build-up of characters; each one subsumed by transpicuous insight. This is evident in the dynamics of relationship among Pol, Madel, Sister Josie (Angel Aquino as Pol’s sister) and Tiya Cora.

The performances are nothing to scoff at. Coco Martin is effusively committed, without the excesses of his teleserye persona. You cannot help but sit back and hold on to your arms rest as he navigates in his desperate bid for redemption. Marikit, his child, was his way to moral atonement. True enough, Marikit was his way out so people could forget his incestuous past with cousin Madel. He ironically derives and reclaims his dignity from a ten-year corpse that was once his source of embarrassment. Indeed, “Bakit sa mga makasalanan nagpapakita ang Birhen,” asks Zora.

Palo’s pace and cinematic mounting seem deliberate and almost elegiac; the emotions on exhibit are most palpable in wistful moments of scrutinizing close ups. Nor Domingo (who has a short cameo) delivers a gorgeous cinematic palette and a dazzling camera work that captures the essence of the place. Dean Rosen’s music is as hypnotic as the volcanic dunes of Pampanga. Liza Magtoto and Palo’s writing is inspired although the concluding part could have been rendered less stagey.

Coco Martin is luminous; his eyes soulful as he carries his dead child. In his face, we feel the weight of gravity as he gingerly takes his stride towards every destination (i.e. his home or the church in San Fernando). As I’ve once written, this is vintage indie Coco Martin, and what a joy to behold. Alessandra de Rossi is equally stirring, but then when was she not? We’ve mentioned about Anita Linda’s redundant role (as a demented grandmother who rambles and wanders around) here, similar to her depictions in Olivia Lamasan’s “The Mistress” and Chito Rono’s “Caregiver”. Irma Adlawan is likewise predictably surly and one-dimentional. Leo Martinez, as the Bishop, is a bothersome presence and, is thus miscast as he lividly caricatures the religious order.

I have mentioned though that the flick is hobbled by a dubitable third quarter – the “lakbayan”. We are all creatures of religion; and we should know more than anyone that there’s a process for sainthood. Lorenzo Ruiz took years; the well-loved Pope John Paul II may take decades. It isn’t like we’re just recently introduced into this predicament. Pol has a nun for a sister (competently played by Angel Aquino). She could have saved them the long travel from Barangay Saplala to San Fernando. And it is annoying how such ignorance had to include other hopefuls who never got the cure for their emotional and physical ailments.  

Sometimes, religious constitution dictates the standards of our morality. We have scruples that continually govern our lifestyle. Such dilemma should be remedied by whatever it is that doesn’t harm others. I would like to think that whenever we face gray areas, our decisions are only answerable to God; not the church. So why do we need their blessing?

Alessandra de Rossi is Madel.

Anita Linda is Lola Bining

Melchor becomes Zora, the former visionary. Judiel Nieva, anyone?

Governor Dodo and his aggressive wife: "Don't you want to be recognized as the governor of Pampanga's first saint?"

Irma Adlawan as Tita Cora

Lola Bining gets her lucidity back

Lakbayan for Marikit's sainthood

Church gets an audience.

Kissing cousins Pol and Madel

Pol and Lola Bining

Coco Martin (above and below)

Bb. Joyce Bernal's Of All The Things - Cinematic Delight

Emil (Aga Muhlach) unexpectedly lucked out when he failed his bar exams. After all, he’s among UP Law’s top students. Meanwhile, his girlfriend (Miriam Quiambao) successfully hurdles the bar and becomes a lawyer. She would then become Emil’s constant reminder of his failure. So they part ways. This adversity puts his life in stasis. These days, Emil illegally works with a typewriter under an umbrella by the roadside, notarizing documents for a fee. With his dignity tucked like tail between his legs, Emil is a fallen man. His successful brother (Raymond Lauchengco) constantly sneers at him, and his father (Tommy Abuel) – a retired, albeit brilliant law professor – all but glances his way with clipped conversation. They haven’t spoken about his academic debacle; and it’s burrowing down his self esteem. So he keeps to himself.

Meanwhile, Berns (Regine Velasquez) is a professional fixer with dubious connections to prominent people. She introduces herself as a politician’s former youth leader, then insinuates herself in the company of influential politicians: mayors, governors, even Senator Chiz Escudero. This allows her to push disputable contractors for a fee, of course. In various occasions, these acquaintances get her out of a bind. One day, she meets Emil who so impressed her, she decides to hire him to pose as her lawyer – one of her contacts refuses to pay her commission when a deal turns sour. This commences into a partnership that would have Berns take Emil under her tutelage.

When Emil acquiesces, Berns begins planning Emil’s life. While the two deny their obvious attraction to each other (“Di kita type”, Berns would say), their constant companionship soon turns amorous – and they’re found kissing each other. Emil tells Berns that he’s fallen for her, but she’s adamant. Unfortunately, Berns’ mother (Gina Pareno) isn’t crazy about the non-lawyer. She’s afraid Berns would end up like her who subsists selling fake bags (“They’re genuine leather,” she’d say) while her husband (Ariel Ureta) stays home.

One day, Berns hands over Emil’s application forms to re-take the bar, complete with references and the necessary documents. Emil freezes. In his mind, he can never face such loss again. Berns’ actions so enraged him, he storms out leaving his tearful “partner”. Is there happy ever after for our kindred protagonists? Guess.

Director Joyce Bernal seems most inspired whenever she works with Aga Muhlach and Regine Velasquez. Bernal's tandem with scriptwriter Mel Martinez-del Rosario has produced one of the most artistically and financially successful local romcom-trilogy of all time: 1999’s “Dahil May Isang Ikaw”, 2000’s “Kailangan Ko’y Ikaw” and 2001’s “Pangako Ikaw Lang”. More than a decade later, Bernal brings back the magic with a more urgent and diverting narrative concern: how to deal with defeat. While majority of flicks in the genre is punctuated by cotton candy veneers and characters with bittersweet, albeit fairy tale lives, "Of All The Things" touches base with "losers". 

Bernadette's life wallows in getting through shady deals. Emil's is frozen with self pity. And if fantasies are made of these sad excuse of heroes, where then could people derive their inspiration? Bernal and Del Rosario guide us through the intricacies of patience, perseverance and love even from "losers" like Berns and Umboy (aka Emil). 

Aga Muhlach delivers another insightful performance that curiously parallels to his "deadbeat' role in Olivia Lamasan's "In the Name of Love". It is thus a testament to Muhlach's artistic sensibility that he was able to adequately delineate his role here. He succeeds to personify Emil with all his emotional pathos. Muhlach's silent moments are a virtual force of nature, like when he finally admits to his father how he needs his help (to review for his retake). His scenes with Abuel are heart breaking like when the latter tells him: "Sa araw araw na nakikita kong bitbit mo ang makinilya mo, ako ang nanliliit." The gravity between these two actors could summon tsunamis of emotion, you better hold on to solid ground. Needless to say, Tommy Abuel complements Muhlach's grief. Abuel, after all, is a real life lawyer; and his emotional gravitas is more than considerable. He is one of the country's best actors of all time.

In this movie, Regine Velasquez-Alcasid (she's billed as such) comes into her own. Her frenetic movements and assiduous demeanor are believable. Gone are her awkward facial ticks and affectations. Velasquez has finally learned how to relax and get comfortable with her emotions. In fact, she succeeds - with flying colors - to create a valid character and to make Berns an endearing soul; a tall order when you're a hideous professional fixer. Evidently, this is her career best.

The film is further punctuated by winsome characters, and not one of them is a throwaway: Gina Pareno as flaky mother Susana who's overly cautious of her daughters' affairs (she's so adorable and hilarious despite her nagging demeanor); Mark Bautista as Eps, Emil's cousin; John Lapus as Berns' assistant Rocky; Joy Viado as the errant contractor Mrs. Manubat; Raymond Lauchengco as Emil's brother; Jojo Alejar as Berns' suitor, and Ariel Ureta as Eduardo, Berns' father (His short line to his wife is memorable: "Minahal naman kita nang tapat.") Eugene Domingo cameos as a bar exam monitor.

Romcoms like this have a tendency to be predictable, but the characters are so beautifully written, you understand all their motivations and you empathize with their dilemmas. With brisk pacing yet unhurried exposition, unobtrusive music, occasional funny glibs, adequately developed characters, well-tempered performances, inspired writing, and the pervading theme on the redemptive power of love, it's easy to declare "Of All The Things" as one of 2012's most delightful and affecting movies. It allows you to leave the cinema with a lingering warm feeling - and a huge smile on your face. I am reminded why I love the movies. This is first rate entertainment! Do not miss it!     

This scene is not to be missed as Emil trades legal jargon with Bern's nemesis, Mrs. Manubat. This is so funny!

Olivia Lamasan's The Mistress - Morality Tales

For five years, Sari’s (Bea Alonzo) life has revolved around her burgeoning extended family and her special Thursdays. She works as the master cutter of a popular tailoring shop. She’s contented and has sought for nothing more than the needs of her family. One day, JD (John Lloyd Cruz), an architect, finds her in a bookstore. Her serene presence so enraptured him that he decides to pursue her despite her snide brush off: “Hindi lahat ng gusto mo, makukuha mo.” There’s more to Sari’s dismissal than meets the eye. After all, their attraction to each other is palpable. Why does she avoid him?

But fate is a precarious adversary. JD finds Sari working for a client he’ll be working for in the next few months – to renovate the tailoring shop’s working space. As he openly pursues Sari, it soon becomes clear that the impediment has something to do with Sari’s Thursdays, a day she gets off work, visits a two-story duplex where she stays for the next 24 hours, gets dolled up, and satisfies her “duty” as the mistress to an elder, albeit married gentleman named Rico (Ronaldo Valdez). Though this arrangement seems impassioned, Sari soon unravels to JD that she’s paying debt of gratitude for help that was once extended to her demented Lola Lina (Anita Linda) and Sari's struggling family.

What JD doesn’t know: this gentleman happens to be his father Frederico Torres, owner and CEO of a financially lucrative telecom firm; a father he doesn’t quite see eye to eye with; a husband who constantly strays, to the consternation of Regina (Hilda Koronel), his wife and JD’s constantly forgiving mother. She knows about her husband’s affair, but she is constantly reminded about her previous indiscretion; one that bore a child – Eric Torres aka JD. Eric is subtly admonished everyday for his mother’s “sins”, thus he maintains a sour relationship with the man who took Eric for his own son. After the death of an elder son, Rico needs Eric as his deputy C.E.O., a job that Eric resists with a passion.

While Eric deals with familial strife, Sari is more and more torn between JD’s diligent pursuit and Rico’s suddenly acquisitive streaks (he now requires other days outside Thursdays), unaware that JD is his son. “I realized I can’t share you with another man,” Rico tells Sari. Is there hope for our star-crossed lovers?

Director Olivia Lamasan carefully weaves a story that curiously validates an extra-marital dilemma, and she does this quite compellingly. The script is riddled with cryptic or humorous lines that would intermittently have you tapping with glee: “Bukas uulan, makukuha ko ang gusto ko.” Huh? Aren’t we trespassing Cathy Garcia-Molina’s territory?

Hilda Koronel’s drunken scene should be made a Gold Standard for actors: “Thursday, the one day of the week that makes me want to regret everything. Every fucking Thursday; every Thursday fucking.” Koronel delivers this line without florid sentimentality, her voice dipping low, turning almost inaudible, but you sense her grief. Clearly, there is no one like Hilda Koronel, the film’s most underused character. I love the way she speaks her English – and this is the “Filipino English” that I always mention here. She’s lived in the U.S. for years yet you never hear her deliver those phony accents heard from the likes of Piolo Pascual, Jericho Rosales, John Arcilla, Cesar Montano, et.al. (Unfortunately, the list is growing.) You even hear Piolo lose his “rolled R”, badly monkeying how the Brits do it. Take it from La Koronel! Now that’s classy Pinoy English: clear, emphatic, and devoid of spine-tingling Middle Earth “security guard” accents. Right, Mr. Arcilla?

When Koronel asks: “Why is he doing this to me, son? I love him,” you understand the gravity of her misery. Even her less emotive lines are a joy to hear: “Why do I only see you during National holidays? I miss you, son. I hardly see you.” Even gag-inducing lines (“I hate you. I hate you because I cannot hate you”) turn into cinematic magic. There’s more: “As long as I’m alive, you will never be promoted to wife.” Why are we denied Koronel’s sophistication and brilliance? We need to see her more often. She can teach many new stars a thing or two about grace and thespic grit. 

The situations in Lamasan’s “The Mistress” are, of course, apocryphal. After all, you don’t always want to sympathize with someone who entertains the advances of a married man, yet Bea Alonzo imbues her character with adequate sympathy, we might as well make a saint out of her. How can she love someone who imposes himself on her; someone who tells her which slinky dress to wear for a dinner out? You have to admit, she looked like a tramp in her back-baring “suman” dress, debah?

Bea Alonzo, still the most gifted actress of her generation, delectably inhabits Sari with a highly nuanced turn. Her instincts are so fine tuned she never misses a step. The same can be said about John Lloyd Cruz who’s as conflicted about his familial status as he is of his relationship with Sari. Cruz, in fact, seems to be walking in the park. Cruz shines in silent moments: “Ang daming dahilan para hindi kita mahalin. Kung bakit di ko magawa, kasi mahal kita.” He switches tantrums with finger-snapping precision. And if there’s one thing evident about this film, it’s the prevalence of “mood swings”. They’re amorous one moment; surly the next.

Ronaldo Valdez makes a career-best performance as he depicts Frederico, the man who wants to have his cake and eat it too. His emotive cadences are spectacular, e.g. his argument with John Lloyd at the office. One moment he tells his son that he needs him (“Anong gusto mo, luluhod ako sa harap mo para pumayag ka?”), then he tells Eric how he owes the company his attention. Even when he drops emotionally charged lines (“Ano’ng karapatan mo, Sari? Kerida lang kita!”), you don’t feel the mawkishness of the scene. My favorite scene with Ronaldo was his conversation with Eric at his hospital bed: “When I saw you with your big round eyes, I knew you were mine. That’s why I gave you my name.” I had to moderate my emotions to avoid making a fool of myself inside the theater.

"But I'm still fucking choose to stay!" Ano daw?

WEAK PARTS

Some characters, like Anita Linda’s Lola Lina, are a tad too familiar and showy. If you remember Coco Martin’s “Santa Nina” (opening in commercial cinemas this week), this was a similar character (the dementedly verbose and Alzheimer-stricken old woman) transported to a different movie. But wait? Isn’t she the same “Lola Miling” in Chito Rono and Sharon Cuneta’s “Caregiver” (2008)? Sometimes, that’s the trouble in using trite characters just to populate their narrative world. Writers forget. Carmi Martin, playing Bea’s mother, also sticks out like a sore thumb. Moreover, didn’t they realize that Sari is gone every Thursday? Wasn’t her weekly disappearance a cause of concern for them? If Sari was indeed the tailoring’s best cutter, why was she open target for the cantankerous Mr. Zarate (Gabe Mercado)? In fact, Zarate’s ire was a valid reason to get mad (Sari used cotton instead of pina for Zarate’s barong). If you’re a great seamstress, you don’t mistake your pinias from your cotton linens, do you?

“The Mistress” employs a narrative course that’s almost emotionally Machiavellian. Lamasan mostly succeeds in this aspect. But the veracity of emotions is, no doubt, buoyed by the film’s laudable four-way lead! The lingering music is effective in hauling out emotions, but it’s a stroke of inspiration making use of Snow Patrol’s “Chasing Cars” to anchor Sari and Eric’s predicament.  “If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me? And just forget the world?” Some obstacles can overwhelm human emotions. Isn’t that sad?   

Regina hates Thursdays.

Attending a wedding at the Callao Cave up north.

Anita Linda does another demented Lola in "The Mistress", a role similar to her characters in "Caregiver" and "Santa Nina". While she is undoubtedly brilliant, one doesn't get high points for repeating ones self.