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.

Topel Lee's Amorosa - Revenge of the Vigorously Confused

As a child, Amiel (Martin del Rosario) was diagnosed with Retinitis Pimentosa, an irreversible and incurable eye disease that eventually leads to blindness. Rosa Calderon (Angel Aquino), Amiel’s mother, the carrier of the illness, feels responsible for Amiel’s misfortune. But she enlists his other son Rommel’s (Enrique Gil) dedication to assist Amiel as he gradually loses his vision. ‘Di tayo aayaw; ‘di tayo susuko, Rosa reminds her son. She further says, “Sa ‘yo ako humuhugot ng lakas, anak.” Amiel and Rommel grow up close and supportive of each other. They play Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” together on the piano. They even prepare for the eventual forfeiture of Amiel’s vision by counting the steps to familiar nooks in the house.

One fateful day, the family figures in a catastrophic accident instantly killing Rosa’s husband (Lloyd Samartino). Rosa gets thrown out and survives with a mere contusion. But the wreckage perilously hangs by a cliff. The townsfolk turn to the site to pull the survivors out of the car. As time critically ticks by, a samaritan shouts to Rosa: “Sino ang sasagipin?” Rosa’s knee jerk reaction has her shouting, “Yung nakasalamin!” (Amiel). Rommel hears this and gets heartbroken. This scene has since defined Rommel’s relationship with his mother and brother Amiel.

Surviving the accident turns into an icy chapter in the lives of Rosa’s family. The once obedient and dutiful Rommel has turned wayward, preferring constant night outs with friends of ill repute. Moreover, their financial standing has down spiraled. Situation turns dicier when Rosa accepts an offer to manage a desolate inn in foggy Tagaytay where Amiel and Rommel spent their summers as children. Rommel acquiesces when he renews acquaintance with childhood friend Amanda (Jane Oineza) who’s grown into a lovely girl.  

But the old and creaky house rankles with an ominous past. A girl named Sandra (Empress Schuck) was gang raped and murdered in the house 15 years ago. Since then, men – suspected rapists – die mysterious deaths around the area. A killer is running loose, and Sgt. Villegas (Richard Quan) pays Rosa a visit to warn her about this. Meanwhile, Rommel’s demeanor towards his mother and brother changes abruptly with Amanda’s constant visits (she delivers flowers to the guest house). Fetching scenario, right? But are they safe from the wandering killer? Is Rommel free from the influence of his delinquent friends (Ejay Falcon, Franco Daza and Nico Antonio) who have their eyes on Amanda? Has Rommel mended his strained relationship with Rosa and brother Amiel?

A convoluted plot replete with several intervening narrative strains makes this mostly incongruent flick a herculean cinematic experience. The issues involved in “Amorosa” are disparate, and director Topel Lee vigorously pieces them together like oddly-shaped parts of a puzzle.  There’s the beautiful title that would have you believe that titular Rosa is the focal character in this story.  Well, she isn’t. There should be something about her that deserves a theatrical “title” other than the fact that she’s the genetic carrier of her son’s Retinitis Pigmentosa; maybe a glimpse into her past? But if you really think about it, Rosa could be written differently, i.e. as a supporting character or a flashback - and this wouldn’t harm the major premise that’s more about sibling rivalry than the guilt of a mother who wants to pass her burden to her younger child. How convenient, right?

During the accident, the Samaritans who went to the vehicular wreckage chose to “ask which one to help” losing more time in the process. Most people with brains would readily act on it than ask for decisions. They were at the scene, for Pete’s sakes. It was their call to just pull anyone out before the car tumbles down the ravine. But no, in their moment of idiocy, they had to ask the confused, contused and flustered mother which one should they pull out of the wreckage. Moreover, what mother would choose a child over another? This moral dilemma is really a narrative catachresis, clumsily manipulated to draft a situation.

On the other hand, Sandra’s (Empress) story, which starts the movie, is hokey. To add to Rosa’s grief, Director Lee has decided to throw in an avenging ghost who kills “rapists”. The film would have you believe that Tagaytay is the Rape Capital of the Philippines; rapists are a dime a dozen and they roam the streets like happy vagrants looking for damsels in distress. And restless Sandra haunts and kills them. But what bothers me was after having exterminated the characters played by Ejay Falcon, Nico Antonio and Franco Daza, what happens to the avenging Sandra? Her story has conveniently become an unfinished business, right? Unless she has decided to retire from her protracted retribution.  What did Sandra do to her own rapists – Carlo Aquino, Johan Santos and Lemuel Pelayo? Why kill others, but not your own rapist/murderers? Busy sya? Anyare, kuya?

And didn’t you notice how Manila boy Rommel’s friends seem to follow him all the way to Tagaytay? Moreover, there’s an albularyo (Nanding Josef) who intermittently warns Rosa of impending events, and there’s a child (Xyriel Manabat) who seems to see ghosts. Yet all of them are disposable characters that are as quickly forgotten as they are introduced into the story. Let’s not forget Lilia Cuntapay who provides asinine humor, an absolutely misplaced thread in an already confused narrative body.

Furthermore, Director Lee wasn’t happy with these plots so he further deviates by providing another twist! In what could be the silliest form of “deus ex machina”, Rosa is suffering from a post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) that would have her believing that Amiel survived the accident. But such gravity of delusion and visual hallucination isn't part of Post Traumatic Stress. Try Major Depression or Schizoaffective Disorder, but absolutely NOT Post Traumatic Stress Disorder! Isn’t it easier to actually consult a psychiatrist if you were to make a cinematic case out of a psychiatric diagnosis than cursorily reading about hallucinations from Wikipedia? Some people could be so inept or lazy.

It turns out, post-accident Amiel was but a figment of her imagination. How very Shyamalan!

Angel Aquino boasts of an arresting presence and an earnest take on mother’s guilt. Empress Schuck is, as usual, fetching and sympathetic as Sandra. These two ladies make watching Amorosa a little less painful, churning out commendable performances in shoddily written characters. Others aren’t as lucky. Ejay Falcon displays course depiction too far removed from most Star Magic actors. His characterization is, in fact, very Mac Alejandre’ish - mediocre, loud, predictable, and shallow. Enrique Gil and Martin del Rosario mostly deliver perfunctory turns, but they’re nothing to crow about. After all, the bond between these two actors is mostly fabricated, more than visceral.   

I have to admit though that the setting and cinematography are a pleasure to the eyes. Fog bound Tagaytay, gigantic trees with a thousand branches that reach to the heavens, atmospheric corners of some eerie locations provide a very visually compelling cinematic canvas. Unfortunately, mere beauty doesn’t suffice. A beautiful girl with the brain of a paramecium soon loses novelty, and we eventually see through her hollow skull. And it’s becoming clear how Topel Lee, once a very promising indie talent, has failed to deliver his promise. With visually succulent scenes, all he’s able to churn out are the superficial requirement of his cinema. Visuals are an integral part of a film, but it’s a valid story and an intuitive storytelling that drive any cinematic vehicle. In “Amorosa”, cerebral occupancy is nil! There’s just no one home but an unmanned camera.

Nanding Josef and Nico Antonio

Empress Schuck is the avenging Sandra.

Martin del Rosario is Amiel. Enrique Gil is Rommel. They are brothers... from a different mother... and a different father! See any similarity? You have to judiciously use your imagination for that. :)

Ejay Falcon is William, the present-day rapist; Carlo Aquino is Jerry, the rapist of the past! 

Pretty Jane Oineza plays flower girl Amanda, Rommel's childhood friend.

The cast of "Amorosa: The Revenge" and their confused director.

Note:

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

Chris Martinez's I Do Bidoo Bidoo - Rousing and Joyful

Rocky Polotan and Tracy Fuentebella (Sam Concepcion and Tippy Dos Santos) are a young couple who enjoy a loving relationship. But when the latter finds out that she’s pregnant, they instigate a maelstrom of affliction that places both of their families in a quandary. While Tracy’s folks flounder in their affluent milieu, Rocky’s parents are persistently burdened by incoming bills. Pol (Ogie Alcasid), Rock’s father - a musician who has a single hit song to his name – subsists by giving guitar lessons to the children in his neighborhood. He’s mostly frustrated and uninspired by his misfortune. Rose (Eugene Domingo), his wife, struggles with her catering service.

The day the Polotans visit the farm villa of the Fuentebellas for the “pamanhikan” (asking for Tracy’s hand in marriage), the rudely gaping social discrepancy between the two families becomes painfully apparent. While Tracy’s dad Nick (Gary Valenciano) seems to calmly take everything in stride, mom Elaine (Zsa zsa Padilla) is conflicted. She sees a vicious cycle in her daughter – and she doesn’t want Tracy “to feel trapped in a loveless relationship”. At least wait until you’re older, she suggests. But the repercussions of having a child out of wedlock is a nagging concern for the Fuentebellas, and a stigma they’d rather spare Tracy from. “Atin ang babae,” Nick would reason out. Though Rocky is a board certified nurse, he is unemployed just yet. And Tracy’s strait-laced grandfather (Jaime Fabregas), a former military sergeant, isn’t compelled by tact or false civility to keep his thoughts. Over lunch, he unravels them. He does not want Tracy to wed Rocky who does not deserve his granddaughter.

Soon, insults are thrown around and fisticuffs ensue. The Polotans walk out with contused faces and bruised egos. Rocky and Tracy’s impending wedding is unceremoniously called off. What becomes of our star-crossed lovers? Is there happy-ever-after in a musical narrative? Guess.

Syotang Pa-Class

Doo Bidoo

Writer and director Chris Martinez concocts a delectable Romeo-and-Juliet tale by sumptuously utilizing the music of Apo Hiking Society. This cerebral exercise is so meticulously formulated that the songs of a generation – so familiar that they’re almost prosaic, seasoned, and common place – suddenly gain context for a new generation of music lovers. In fact, these songs feel like they’ve been written for the given narrative. Moreover, you cannot deny the timelessness of these musical ouvre. You further realize that these were a few of the songs hummed to you by your father; hymns of a lifetime once played on vinyl records now safely tucked away in some decrepit basement.

What’s more impressive is how Martinez is able to exquisitely insinuate contemporary issues into his seemingly mundane musical romcom: unemployment and the diaspora of the modern immigrants (“Blue Jeans”: Sige kayod sa skwela at balang araw makikita nyo. Pagkatapos ng iyong paghihirap, ‘Di ka rin makakahanap ng trabaho); teenage pregnancy (“Batang Bata Ka Pa” – Nagkakamali ka kung akala mo na ang buhay ay isang mumunting paraiso lamang); class wars, homosexuality (“Mahirap Talagang Magmahal ng Syota ng Iba”), etc. “Blue Jeans” is particularly surprising because the concerns of the 70’s vividly resonate almost 40 years later. It makes you wonder if the lives of that generation aren’t all that different compared to ours. Why do we have similar concerns? Have social conditions deteriorated since the turn of the century?

Sam Concepcion sizzles with an earnest performance that bristles with charm, pathos and urgency. Most singers would have trouble with cinematic emotions, but impassioned Concepcion hits all the right notes! In fact, it’s hard to consider this anything less than a career high. Tippy Dos Santos is a great cinematic find. She’s easy on the eyes, sings like a lark, and tempers her lines with adequate verve and emotive skill. Ogie Alcasid shines in a surprisingly restrained turn. I’ve never considered him in dramatic light, but Alcasid is a revelation here. When he utters: “Kinahihiya mo na lang ako lagi” or “Lahat tayo, kailangan ng inspirasyon sa buhay”, your heart crumbles with palpable affection.

Zsa zsa Padilla utilizes her pent-up frustrations here; a career-best. What I admire most is how consistently she tackles Elaine, a long suffering wife eternally patient and hopeful in a loveless marriage with a hubby who mostly ignores and disdains her presence. Her sedulous take of her character is nothing short of brilliant, and her singing is impeccable. In fact, her “Tuyo ng Damdamin” rankles with regret, you just want to whisk her off her agony. Eugene Domingo balances her fretful Rose with intermittently biting lines that sent me chuckling so loud. We all know someone who nags like that: “Default mode nya yan. Laging galit!” Gary Valenciano is a little tentative with his characterization. He defines his portrayal  with large strokes fit for music videos. Fact is, this is his comeback film after almost 20 years of cinematic hiatus. Fortunately, he enjoys good chemistry with Padilla, so that's a plus!

Awit ng Barkada

I do have issues about using non-singers in singing roles, but Eugene Domingo more than passes muster, although she could have done a wee better in her “Di Na Natuto” duet with Alcasid. After all, paying homage to the songs of a generation includes singing these songs beautifully. When, Dame Judi Dench, for example, performed “Send in the Clowns” for her role in Sondheim’s wistful “A Little Night Music” at the Royal National Theatre in London, it was heartfelt, but I helplessly looked for the beautiful melody. Melodies deserve to be sung as they were written, not recited into a half-song. Anyway, Dench won the Olivier that year. Domingo is clearly inspired, and it shows. Her “Awit ng Barkada” number with Frenchie Dy (as BFF Lilibeth) and Sweet Plantado (as BFF Vicky) was a touching tribute to friendship, I had to control myself from shedding a tear because – heck! – the scene wasn’t schmaltzy! But you see, beautiful numbers just make me cry (dramatic or otherwise).

A considerable, albeit bittersweet side story involves Neil Coleta’s Brent, Rocky’s closeted best friend who’s in love with him. Though his scenes inadvertently provide humor, you can’t help but be taken by Brent’s emotional impasse. This narrative string is so beautifully written, it deserves a separate movie of its own. In fact, I am urging all the Pink Film makers to turn their attention to this film for inspiration! This short narrative detour amounts so much more than all of the Pink Films shown in 2011 combined! It is funny, empathetic and insightful. It doesn't paint the gay man as hormonal, albeit sexual predators possessing the brain of a Hydra! An important scene here involved John Lapus shedding a tear while Coleta dedicated his “Kaibigan” song to Rocky – at a videoke bar! This understated and wistful vignette was a perfect finishing touch to a cinematic Mona Lisa. It was just beautiful!  

The narrative isn’t seamless. It’s guilty of “fast resolutions” common in romcoms. It could have invested a little more time to write the gradual resolution or settlement to Rock and Tracy’s dilemma, but then I understand the limitation of time allotted for such flicks. In fact, I think I saw “Paano” in the credits, but the scene involving it didn’t make the final cut. Needless to say, one of my favorite numbers was the “Blue Jeans” dance routine involving a huge crowd in La Salle Dasmarinas. It was just kinetic, and reminded me of some scenes from Jeric Soriano’s “Hotshots” (which also starred Gary Valenciano).   

HOW APO DEFINES FILIPINOS TO OTHERS

We are a very musical nation. I remember my traveling cousin relate an anecdote about a Canadian backpacker he met in Vietnam last February (2012). The Canadian guy has a Filipina girlfriend who would take him to karaoke nights with fellow Filipinos in Vancouver. His favorite: “Ewan”! And just before my cousin could dismiss this as pure hearsay, this white man suddenly lurches into “Mahal kita, mahal kita, hindi ‘to bola…” This is a guy who doesn't have clue on who Danny Javier, Jim Paredes and Buboy Garovillo are. Yet their musical legacy encompasses race and geography. Who can say that the APOs are mere historical anamnesis? We deserve our songs encapsulated and documented in films like “I Do Bidoo Bidoo”. These songs tell our stories, and we can only be grateful for the endless pleasure they bring.

Chris Martinez’s “I Do Bidoo Bidoo: Heto nAPO Sila!” is a mirthful musical masterpiece that’s as rousing and hopeful in temperament and narrative exposition as the songs and stories of our lives. It deserves the patronage of every music-loving Pinoy. It should not be missed!  

Trading aphorisms in "Salawikain". Lalalalalalalalalalalalalala...

Contemplative Elaine sings "Tuyo ng Damdamin".

Songs featured in the movie:

1. Pumapatak na Naman ang Ulan - A recurring tune and Pol's one-and-only hit song!
2. Doo Bidoo - Cheerful number involving Ogie Alcasid and her guitar-carrying wards.
3. Syotang Pa-Class - In an exquisitely choreographed basketball dance, as Rocky describes Tracy, his syotang pa-class, and why he loves her.
4. Awit ng Barkada - Hilarious friendship song with Eugene Domingo, Frenchie Dy and Sweet Plantado
5. Panalangin - In a phone conversation at in front of an altar in a a rundown chapel.
6. Tuyo ng Damdamin - Elaine's contemplative scene comparing her daughter's situation from her own past.
7. Mahirap Magmahal - Coleta's song for his sleeping best friend on the day of their "pamanhikan".
8. Salawikain - Wonderfully choreographed "war at the dining table" scene during the "pamanhikan".
9. Nakapagtataka - On the night after the Polotans storm out from their "pamanhikan".
10. Batang Bata Ka Pa - A four-way song for the heart broken Rocky and Tracy. Rose and Nick join them.
11. Blue Jeans - A buoyant song and dance number at Rocky's university. Sam Concepcion, Neil Coleta and a huge cast dance up a storm.
12. Kaibigan - Brent's ode of affection for the grieving Rocky. John Lapus makes a short but memorable cameo.
13. Huwag Masanay sa Pagmamahal - Used in the closing credits.
14. Ewan - A playful and affectionate duet when Rocky and Tracy reunite.
15.Di Na Natuto - In a adorable scene that helps define Rose and Pol's relationship.
16. Pag-Ibig - Nick tells Elaine to stay with him.
17. Kabilugan ng Buwan - Lovers eloping.
18. Paano - Nick asks Elaine to stay. This isn't the Gary V. hit, but a less popular APO track.

Tracy's gone and the Fuentebellas react.

Paul Singh Cudail's Ang Jowa - Vicious Cycle

Don and Orlando (Zander Olivarez and Miguel Alcantara respectively) share a lot of things: a home and a job at the bank. They also share a bed. One thing they don’t share is Annie (Jessica Ruiz), Don’s girl friend of several years. But Orlando doesn’t know about her. What’s worse, Don intends to leave Orlando to start a family with Annie. When he finally does, Don is inconsolable. However, life with Annie is tough. After all, Don resigned from his job – and Annie is eternally unemployed. With bills piling up and rent’s long overdue, Don turns to Orlando who’s only too willing to lend a hand in exchange for sexual favors. While Orlando has pretty much acquiesced to a shared relationship, Annie is kept in the dark. The latter, in fact, is getting suspicious about her husband’s hushed calls and clipped replies. Where does Don get their rent money? Where does her “husband” spend his overnight soirees? 

As it comes to pass, Orlando starts demanding more attention from Don who jumps from one concupiscent bed to the next. What’s a guy to do? In fact, does he have enough stamina for his two lovers? And if this dilemma wasn’t enough, Don further harbors intermittent sexual thrills with Betty (Adriana Gomez), Orlando’s childhood friend – who frequently visits him.  Plot thickens when Betty inadvertently gets pregnant. But all hell breaks loose when Annie discovers Don’s relationship with Orlando. On the other side of this sexual chain is Betty who doesn’t know that Orlando has hatched plans to adopt the child once she gives birth. Meanwhile, “wife” Annie has decided to walk out of Don. Will Orlando get the child that shall “seal” his coupling with Don? What happens to Betty?  

Orlando (Miguel Alcantara, right) espouses about contractual relationships to lover Don (Zander Olivarez, left).

More than ever, director Paul Singh Cudail shows that his ineptitude towards a narrative craft knows no boundaries. And he valiantly succeeds outdoing this exquisite “talent”. To process a scene, for example, he keeps harping at a redundant situation that repeats like a broken record – those darn miscalls and hushed phone conversations that are too loud to ignore. Thus, this becomes an oft-repeated source of altercation among the characters: Orlando decries these calls, so does Annie. They occur in every location of their limited scenography: living room, stairs, bedroom, which kinda reminds me of Zig Dulay’s “Huling Halik” where constant phone calls become a nauseating source of tension between protagonists. At some point, these get hilarious and you end up, slapping your thigh with an ebullient “Na naman…? (Again)” Though it should underline the artistic limitations of Cudail who writes his scripts, it’s just one piece of this baffling, albeit shoddy puzzle.

Logic is impugned in several persuasions. When a couple starts planning their lives together, they usually consider the economics that go it. In Cudail’s “Ang Jowa”, they bury their heads in the sand. Don resigns from his job at the bank to join Annie who couldn’t find work. As if that wasn’t enough, Don also leaves his benefactor – the one who supplies all the dough. Hasn’t it crossed his dimwitty cerebrum that money is needed to pay the rent; feed another person; buy soap and toothpaste? When Annie finds out about her husband’s homosexual affair, Orlando tries to convince Annie with an asinine, “Dapat nga matuwa ka kasi ako ang kahati mo, hindi babae.” In my rule book, anyone who shares the affection and engages in sexual calisthenics with my boyfriend/husband is a competitor, thus needs to be annihilated! Relationships and emotional proprietorship have boundaries of their own. In fact, biting on another person’s apple is forbidden.

SPOILERS

As one of the purveyors of the “Moron Cinema” (cheap productions shot in a few days; poorly conceived narratives; domestic settings usually set within the confines of a house), Cudail makes a fallacy out of the aphorism that goes “experience is the best teacher”. How many films has Cudail completed within the last two years or so? Yet you hear lines dictated to his actors. At a dinner table, you hear someone order his cast, “O kumain na kayo!” When there’s food in front of you, you don’t need twats dictating such mundane instructions, do you? You munch, you chew, you masticate – then you throw your make-believe lines. In another protracted scene, you find Annie waiting for Don, and this gets intercut with Don and Orlando sharing fervid copulation. But this isn’t even the issue, what drives you mad is how these scenes are repeated half a dozen times to stretch its running time. I could have pinched the singit of its editor for failing to do his job well, as he allows Annie to wait for Godot.

Don (Zander Olivarez) and Annie (Jessica Ruiz) post-coitus: That darn cell phone!

When Don and Orlando hear about pregnant Betty’s death (she slipped and bled to death), the camera pans at the couple and we find “no discernable emotional reaction” emanating from Don, Betty’s lover and the father of the child. For Don, it was just quotidian dispatch. No need for grief, astonishment or dismay. How’s that for emotional investment? This takes me to its lead – Zander Olivarez. He is stocky, and on cursory glance, looks muscle-bound. Aside from the obvious extra pound of muscle, Zander doesn’t have much emotive skill. In fact, he coasts with a single expression. His moment of inspiration comes when he is made to scuffle in bed with his partners, and he isn’t shy judiciously showing off his backside. He slouches when he should be sitting comfortably, occasionally flexing his arms to bulk up his biceps, triceps, brachialis and even his deltoids. If fact, his muscles could run a gamut of emotional discourse more than Zander himself.

Miguel Alcantara, a protégé of the current queen of mediocre cinema G.A. Villafuerte, tries his luck with real drama. Unfortunately, he doesn’t succeed either. You could see that he tries hard, but for now, this doesn’t suffice. And I couldn’t even bequeath an “A for effort”. Though his conveyance is palpable, he looks like he’s in pain. Not emotionally; more like from toothache or that pulsating pustule inside the nose. “Anong akala mo sa relationship natin, contractual?” He would vividly dispatch with flaring nostrils. The good news? Alcantara registers well on screen, and when he’s earnest enough with his craft, there should be a huge window for improvement.

The ladies are mostly forgettable. They either display bland affect or an irritating display of waylaid theatrics, like when Jessica Ruiz (who sometimes shares an uncanny resemblance with Vice Ganda) cries and all of her facial contortions don’t amount to much. In a scene involving Sally Grefaldo, a character named Tita Lily (the bearer of the bad news regarding Betty’s demise), you find this wrinkly lady cry her hearts out. The camera closely pans to her contorted face. She huffs and haws; she makes singhot, and makes garalgal her voice – yet in her abstruse heartache and convoluted affliction, she isn’t able to shed a single tear! It always bothers me to see someone cry – without tears! Maybe Tita Lily has lachrymal obstruction? Let’s rush her to the eye surgeon for a dacryocystorhinostomy - fast!

The sex scenes are few and far between, and if it's what you're after, you would then have to bury yourself in a bed of frustration. The men mostly show their backsides while the ladies pop out their nipples - perfect for a night of red wine and a generous dash of patience.

Despite these rebarbative situations, you hardly feel the compulsion to care. You’re made acutely aware that the emotional width and breadth of Cudail’s little story spans the four corners of his little rooms, and thus are ill-equipped to expand to the realm of insight. I would suggest a more productive career. Maybe he has green thumbs; farming or gardening could be a better option? Or maybe he can grow camote better than he can assemble a cinematic narrative? Surely, there must be something he could do better than direct films.

Don and Annie: There was never a mention of a wedding, yet they refer to each other as husband and wife.

Don (Zander Olivarez) canoodles with Betty (Adriana Gomez) 

Zander Olivarez postures with a slouch.

Olivarez: Whos' the muscle man? :)

Miguel Alcantara as loan officer Orlando

Adriana Gomez as Betty, Orlando's childhood friend. Gomez looks lost in "Ang Jowa".