from the 2002 YCC citations
Romansa sa mga Pampublikong Espasyo
Ni Galileo S. Zafra
Isang romantikong pelikula ang Ikaw Lamang Hanggang Ngayon. Kuwento
ito ni Katherine, isang empleado sa Manila Post Office.
Kasingrutinaryo ng kanyang trabaho ang kanyang buhay: papasok sa
trabaho, magsasalansan ng sulat, sasagot sa mga tawag sa telepono,
manananghalian sa isang bangko sa parke sa tapat ng gusali, at sa
gabi, uuwi sa bahay. Mahiyain, takot sa tao, walang tiwala sa sarili
si Katherine. Ang malungkot niyang buhay ay hindi itinatago ng
kaniyang anyo: nakasuot ng malaking salamin, mukhang matanda kung
manamit, laging tulala. Isang araw, nang manananghalian siya,
matatapon ang kaniyang pagkain. Gagamitin niya ang tinidor para
ukitin sa bangko ang mga salitang “Malungkot ang buhay ko.”
Isang makisig na golf instructor, si Ryan, ang mauupo sa bangko.
Mababasa niya ang inukit ni Katherine at susundan niya ito ng tanong
na “Bakit?” Kabaligtaran ni Katherine, exciting ang buhay ni Ryan.
Dahil sa kaniyang high profile na trabaho, marami siyang nakikilang
babae at nakakarelasyon. Subalit tulad ni Katherine, malungkot din si
Ryan. Nararamdaman niyang handa na siyang pakasal ngunit hindi pa
niya mahanap ang kanyang gustong makatuluyan.
Magtatagpo at magkakakilala ang dalawa nang minsan, isang gabing
umuulan, magkakasabay silang sumakay sa iisang taxi. Hindi nila alam
na sila ang nagpapalitan ng maiikling sulat sa bangko, ngunit simula
sa maulang gabi ng kanilang pagtatagpo, bubukal ang isang maarugang
pagmamahalan. Kahit simpleng babae si Katherine, makikita ni Ryan ang
kaniyang ganda sa labas at sa loob. Mabubuo ang tiwala sa sarili ni
Katherine dahil mayroon nang nakapansin sa gandang kanyang itinatago.
Kung tutuusin, tulad ng pangunahing tauhang babae, napakakaraniwan at
madaling hulaan ng pelikula. Pinalaki tayo sa kuwento tungkol sa
simpleng babae na mamahalin sa bandang huli ng makisig na lalaki
dahil taglay niya ang malinis na puso at dalisay na pagkatao.
Subalit hindi lamang sa naratibo masusumpungan ang kuwento ng
pelikula. Ginamit nito ang kapangyarihan ng pelikula bilang biswal na
midyum at kinasangkapan ang mga pamamaraan at estratehiya ng
sinematograpiya upang gawing pelikula ito ng mga karakter at lunan,
ng tao at espasyo. Hinuli ng masinop at mahusay na sinematograpiya
hindi lamang ang salaysay ng pag-ibig nina Katherine at Ryan, kundi
pati ang mga makasaysayan at lumilikha-ng-kasaysayang pampublikong
espasyo ng Maynila: ang episyenteng LRT na naghahatid-sundo sa mga
pasahero, ang mataong simbahan ng Quiapo, ang buhay na buhay na
eskinita ng mga pangunahing lansangan ng Maynila, ang makakapal at
matitipunong pader ng Intramuros, ang makapangyarihan at matitikas na
poste ng gusali ng Post Office, ang maalamat na tulay ng Ayala habang
binabaybay ang maalamat na Ilog Pasig, at ang romantikong Liwasang
Bonifacio (dating Plaza Lawton).
Ang mga ritwal mulang pagkakaibigan hanggang pag-iibigan nina
Katherine at Ryan ay naganap sa mga espasyong ito: ang pag-ukit ng
kalungkutan at pag-iisa sa mga bangko ng Liwasan, ang aksidental
nilang pagkikilala sa sakayan ng taxi, ang muli nilang pagtatagpo sa
harap ng simbahan ng Quiapo, ang pagdalaw ni Ryan kay Katherine sa
gusali ng Post Office, ang pagpapalalim ng kanilang relasyon,
paghihiwalay at muling pagkakasundo sa Liwasan. Sa mga situwasyong
ito, ang pampublikong espasyo ay hindi lamang mga lugar na tinatayuan
o nilalakaran, kundi mga lunan kung saan ang mga tao ay pinagtatagpo
at ang mga ugnayan ay binubuo.
Ipinakikita ng pelikula na ang mga pampublikong espasyo ay mga bukas
na lugar na may buhay at may kasaysayan na hindi hiwalay sa buhay at
kasaysaysan ng mga taong dito ay dumaraan at nananahan. Isang ironiya
na ang pelikulang isinadula sa Maynila ay maaaring magsilbi kapwa
bilang pagkilala, gayundin, ng pagtuligsa sa pamahalaang lokal na
puspusang nagpapatupad ng mga infraestrukturang proyekto sa ngalan ng
kaunlaran. Ginawa at ipinalabas ang pelikula sa panahong
nagbabagong-bihis ang lungsod ng Maynila para sa kampanya ng
kasalukuyang pamunuan ng lungsod na buhaying muli ang dating
kadakilaan ng Maynila. Ang pelikula sa gayon ay parangal, kundi man,
propaganda pa nga, sa ganitong kampanya. Ngunit sa kabilang banda,
nagtatanong at nanghahamon din ito. Ilang buwan bago ang pelikula,
kinuwestiyon ng mga art conservationist ang proyekto para sa urban
renewal ng pamahalaang lungsod. Tinutulan nila ang pagwasak sa isang
makasaysayang landmark sa Taft Avenue, ang Jai Alai Building, na
pagtatayuan ng Hall of Justice ng Maynila. Ang gusali na itinayo
noong dekada 1930 ay saksi sa maraming mahahalagang pagtitipon lalo
ng mayayamang pamilya at siyang natitirang art deco building sa bansa
kundi man sa buong Asya. Ang pelikulang nagsasadula ng pagbubuo ng
personal na kasaysayan sa pampublikong espasyo, kung gayon, ay
paalaala rin na may panlipunang kasaysayang binubuo sa at binubuo ng
mga pampublikong espasyo.
Sa pagtatapos ng pelikula, magtatagpong muli sina Katherine at Ryan
na pansamantalang pinaglayo ng pagdududa sa sarili at pag-aagam-agam
sa hinaharap ng kanilang relasyon. Nalutas sa pelikula ang mga
kontradiksiyon ng mga personal na ugnayan. Ngunit ang mismong
pelikula ring ito ang nagtatampok ng di natatapos na mga tunggalian
ng mga may magkakaibang interes sa lipunan, ng usapin ng modernidad
at ng mga pinangangalagaang espasyo ng ating buhay.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
The Spirit of Voice By Patrick D. Flores
from the 2002 YCC citations
The Spirit of Voice By Patrick D. Flores
In Mga Munting Tinig, directed by Gil M. Portes, a young teacher,
brimming with idealism, plays the role of a messianic reformer in a
remote town, but walks away from the middle-class sojourn chastened
by the realization that the work of civil society is bound to fail if
it merely foists its vision of change on passive people perceived to
be needing relief. The film resists the temptation to promote a
panacea of social ills. Rather, it intimates a keen analysis of the
social condition of a milieu wracked by corruption, insurgency, and
the seduction of flight. Arising from this commentary is the
well-considered effort to recover the repressed voice of potential
change through music, an allegory of art as an agent of
transformative expression that is collectively performed as a choir
of deliverance.
The tendency for this type of film is to subscribe to what can be
called the “primitive imaginary” in which the reformer-or perhaps,
the reformist-descends on a savage territory in order to colonize it.
Such disposition is clearly imperialist in orientation as it pursues
the trajectory of development as the privileged strategy of progress.
What emerges from this sort of project is a neo-liberal
interpretation of inequity and its solution. The people pictured as
requiring liberation or amelioration, or in some cases even humanity,
are nearly catatonic and merely wait for benevolence to endow them
with intelligibility as subjects of a domain. The film Mga Munting
Tinig departs from this convenient practice by:
investing its heroine not with the full and complete rationality of a
redeemer, but with an enabling ambivalence that allows her to, on the
one hand, doubt her own place in the setting and, on the other, to
act on the condition before her in the manner that her experience
predisposes her. In the end, person and place, self and other
mutually change each other;
putting in place a dialectic that analyzes social reality as at once
a corrupted condition and a transformable possibility. In this
situation, the idealism of the heroine is undercut as an illusion by
a jaded, but nevertheless sensible, colleague, who in turn opens
herself up to a revision of consciousness. This dialectic, or
reflexive reflection, is important to scan the contradictions of
milieu and to probe the context of whatever human action plays out.
Without such dynamic, which eludes some films which dare to tackle
historical reality of epochal significance, all manner of practice is
ultimately facile, sterile, and anomalous; and
rendering the voice as a vital agent in the articulation of
difference, the engagement with a higher force, and the summoning of
a spirit that transcends the limitations of official speech,
comfortable silence, or conspiratorial cacophony. In this scenario,
the recovery of voice in the context of a coming together in a
community that is the choir transposes into some allegory of art as
an interventive gesture of affective power.
A film nourished by this premise cannot fail. The personas of
teachers are rounded out. Students are located in the thicket of
social struggle as apt pupils, children of the revolution, and
singers of their songs. And society is a charged terrain of armed
revolt, State control, tutelage, and resistance. Direction,
screenplay, cinematography and visual design, editing, sound, and the
performance of a sensitive cast contribute to the comprehensive
competence of Mga Munting Tinig.
The Spirit of Voice By Patrick D. Flores
In Mga Munting Tinig, directed by Gil M. Portes, a young teacher,
brimming with idealism, plays the role of a messianic reformer in a
remote town, but walks away from the middle-class sojourn chastened
by the realization that the work of civil society is bound to fail if
it merely foists its vision of change on passive people perceived to
be needing relief. The film resists the temptation to promote a
panacea of social ills. Rather, it intimates a keen analysis of the
social condition of a milieu wracked by corruption, insurgency, and
the seduction of flight. Arising from this commentary is the
well-considered effort to recover the repressed voice of potential
change through music, an allegory of art as an agent of
transformative expression that is collectively performed as a choir
of deliverance.
The tendency for this type of film is to subscribe to what can be
called the “primitive imaginary” in which the reformer-or perhaps,
the reformist-descends on a savage territory in order to colonize it.
Such disposition is clearly imperialist in orientation as it pursues
the trajectory of development as the privileged strategy of progress.
What emerges from this sort of project is a neo-liberal
interpretation of inequity and its solution. The people pictured as
requiring liberation or amelioration, or in some cases even humanity,
are nearly catatonic and merely wait for benevolence to endow them
with intelligibility as subjects of a domain. The film Mga Munting
Tinig departs from this convenient practice by:
investing its heroine not with the full and complete rationality of a
redeemer, but with an enabling ambivalence that allows her to, on the
one hand, doubt her own place in the setting and, on the other, to
act on the condition before her in the manner that her experience
predisposes her. In the end, person and place, self and other
mutually change each other;
putting in place a dialectic that analyzes social reality as at once
a corrupted condition and a transformable possibility. In this
situation, the idealism of the heroine is undercut as an illusion by
a jaded, but nevertheless sensible, colleague, who in turn opens
herself up to a revision of consciousness. This dialectic, or
reflexive reflection, is important to scan the contradictions of
milieu and to probe the context of whatever human action plays out.
Without such dynamic, which eludes some films which dare to tackle
historical reality of epochal significance, all manner of practice is
ultimately facile, sterile, and anomalous; and
rendering the voice as a vital agent in the articulation of
difference, the engagement with a higher force, and the summoning of
a spirit that transcends the limitations of official speech,
comfortable silence, or conspiratorial cacophony. In this scenario,
the recovery of voice in the context of a coming together in a
community that is the choir transposes into some allegory of art as
an interventive gesture of affective power.
A film nourished by this premise cannot fail. The personas of
teachers are rounded out. Students are located in the thicket of
social struggle as apt pupils, children of the revolution, and
singers of their songs. And society is a charged terrain of armed
revolt, State control, tutelage, and resistance. Direction,
screenplay, cinematography and visual design, editing, sound, and the
performance of a sensitive cast contribute to the comprehensive
competence of Mga Munting Tinig.
Diskarte Ni Ariel N. Valerio
from the 2002 YCC citations
Diskarte Ni Ariel N. Valerio
Halimbawa ng isang well-made film ang Diskarte. Kumpleto sa
rekado-sandakot na sex, kumukulong aksyon, isang kutsarang luha,
tatlong kutsaritang romansa, isang kurot na komedi. Tinimpla at
niluto ayon sa panlasa ng Hollywood. Pinakete para sa takilya ng mga
sinehan sa Pilipinas.
Walang duda, natugunan ng Diskarte ang mga teknikal na rekisito ng
isang pelikula.
Masinop at sadya ang editing. Naikamada ang mga eksena nang walang
sinasayang na sandali sa pagpapaigting ng aksyon. Gumugol ng panahon
upang bumabad sa mga erotikong tagpo, alinsunod sa tinataya nitong
kahingian ng manonood.
Kapansin-pansin din ang bihasang paglalapat ng musika at tunog.
Bihirang gamitin ang opera sa pelikulang lokal. Subalit sa Diskarte,
ilang beses narinig ang makabasag-salaming tinig ng koloratura-habang
nagtatalik sina Jake (Rudy Fernandez) at Amanda (Ara Mina), habang
nagpapakamatay si Col. Montero (Tirso Cruz III), at habang
nakikipagpatayan si Jake sa mga kasapi ng sindikato ng droga.
Sa madaling sabi, tinangka ng Diskarte na maging mahusay na pelikula.
Ngunit malaking katanungan kung sapat na ang technical competence
upang matawag na mahusay ang isang pelikula. Kung matawag mang
mahusay, ano ang halaga nito sa manonood?
Pampalipas-oras? Libangan? Tapyas ng buhay? Repleksyon ng realidad?
Kritik ng lipunan?
Sa unang tingin, tinangka ng Diskarte na magbigay ng kritik sa
lipunang Pilipino sa pamamagitan ng pagtuligsa sa militar bilang
lunsaran ng katiwalian at, kung gayon, ng panlipunang diskurso.
Matalas ang patutsada nito kay Col. Montero bilang “hari ng droga.”
Kasabwat ang mga sindikato, ginamit niya ang mataas na posisyon sa
pulisya upang humamig ng limpak-limpak na salapi. Pero mahina pala
ang dibdib kaya nang madiskartehan ni Jake na ipahuli, ipalitis at
parusahan ng batas, nang-agaw siya ng baril at pinasabog ang sariling
bungo.
Nakapanghihinayang. Hindi si Col. Montero kundi ang nabilasang
pagtatangka tungo sa panlipunang kritik. Maaaring ipagpalagay na sa
pagkawala ni Col. Montero, malinis na muli ang militar. Ganoon lang
kasimple ang problema-may ilang indibidwal na naliligaw ng landas.
Nasa serbisyong militar din dati ang grupo ni Jake. Ipinaghiganti
niya ang asawang pinaslang ng sindikato. Nabilanggo siya at natanggal
sa serbisyo.
Kakatwang hindi nakulong o nalitis ang mga sibilyang kasapi ng
sindikato. Sa halip, kailangan silang lipulin ng mga taong tulad ni
Jake na may matinding personal na galit sa kanila. Bakit hindi sila
pinarusahan ng batas? Dahil hawak daw ng tagapagpatupad ng batas
tulad ni Col. Montero. Nang magpakamatay ang numero unong
tagapagtanggol ng sindikato, tinapos na ang kwento.
Kailangang tapusin ang kwento sa yugtong iyon dahil delikado na ang
susunod na hakbang-ilantad ang katiwalian sa militar bilang
sistematikong panlilinlang sa taumbayan. Hindi ito sinugba ng
pelikula. Sa halip, pinanatiling malinis ang institusyon ng militar
maliban sa ilang indibidwal na batik sa serbisyo. Nabigo ang Diskarte
na tuligsain ang institusyong tinutukan ng kritik nito at sa gayon,
nakabig ng dominanteng propaganda ng estado ang pelikula.
Iyon ang diskarte nila kaya pasensya na lang ang manonood kung
patuloy na mambibiktima sa lipunan ang mga galamay ng panlilinlang.
Diskarte Ni Ariel N. Valerio
Halimbawa ng isang well-made film ang Diskarte. Kumpleto sa
rekado-sandakot na sex, kumukulong aksyon, isang kutsarang luha,
tatlong kutsaritang romansa, isang kurot na komedi. Tinimpla at
niluto ayon sa panlasa ng Hollywood. Pinakete para sa takilya ng mga
sinehan sa Pilipinas.
Walang duda, natugunan ng Diskarte ang mga teknikal na rekisito ng
isang pelikula.
Masinop at sadya ang editing. Naikamada ang mga eksena nang walang
sinasayang na sandali sa pagpapaigting ng aksyon. Gumugol ng panahon
upang bumabad sa mga erotikong tagpo, alinsunod sa tinataya nitong
kahingian ng manonood.
Kapansin-pansin din ang bihasang paglalapat ng musika at tunog.
Bihirang gamitin ang opera sa pelikulang lokal. Subalit sa Diskarte,
ilang beses narinig ang makabasag-salaming tinig ng koloratura-habang
nagtatalik sina Jake (Rudy Fernandez) at Amanda (Ara Mina), habang
nagpapakamatay si Col. Montero (Tirso Cruz III), at habang
nakikipagpatayan si Jake sa mga kasapi ng sindikato ng droga.
Sa madaling sabi, tinangka ng Diskarte na maging mahusay na pelikula.
Ngunit malaking katanungan kung sapat na ang technical competence
upang matawag na mahusay ang isang pelikula. Kung matawag mang
mahusay, ano ang halaga nito sa manonood?
Pampalipas-oras? Libangan? Tapyas ng buhay? Repleksyon ng realidad?
Kritik ng lipunan?
Sa unang tingin, tinangka ng Diskarte na magbigay ng kritik sa
lipunang Pilipino sa pamamagitan ng pagtuligsa sa militar bilang
lunsaran ng katiwalian at, kung gayon, ng panlipunang diskurso.
Matalas ang patutsada nito kay Col. Montero bilang “hari ng droga.”
Kasabwat ang mga sindikato, ginamit niya ang mataas na posisyon sa
pulisya upang humamig ng limpak-limpak na salapi. Pero mahina pala
ang dibdib kaya nang madiskartehan ni Jake na ipahuli, ipalitis at
parusahan ng batas, nang-agaw siya ng baril at pinasabog ang sariling
bungo.
Nakapanghihinayang. Hindi si Col. Montero kundi ang nabilasang
pagtatangka tungo sa panlipunang kritik. Maaaring ipagpalagay na sa
pagkawala ni Col. Montero, malinis na muli ang militar. Ganoon lang
kasimple ang problema-may ilang indibidwal na naliligaw ng landas.
Nasa serbisyong militar din dati ang grupo ni Jake. Ipinaghiganti
niya ang asawang pinaslang ng sindikato. Nabilanggo siya at natanggal
sa serbisyo.
Kakatwang hindi nakulong o nalitis ang mga sibilyang kasapi ng
sindikato. Sa halip, kailangan silang lipulin ng mga taong tulad ni
Jake na may matinding personal na galit sa kanila. Bakit hindi sila
pinarusahan ng batas? Dahil hawak daw ng tagapagpatupad ng batas
tulad ni Col. Montero. Nang magpakamatay ang numero unong
tagapagtanggol ng sindikato, tinapos na ang kwento.
Kailangang tapusin ang kwento sa yugtong iyon dahil delikado na ang
susunod na hakbang-ilantad ang katiwalian sa militar bilang
sistematikong panlilinlang sa taumbayan. Hindi ito sinugba ng
pelikula. Sa halip, pinanatiling malinis ang institusyon ng militar
maliban sa ilang indibidwal na batik sa serbisyo. Nabigo ang Diskarte
na tuligsain ang institusyong tinutukan ng kritik nito at sa gayon,
nakabig ng dominanteng propaganda ng estado ang pelikula.
Iyon ang diskarte nila kaya pasensya na lang ang manonood kung
patuloy na mambibiktima sa lipunan ang mga galamay ng panlilinlang.
Legal Action By Patrick D. Flores
repost from the 2002 YCC citations
Legal Action
By Patrick D. Flores
If only for its queer and quirky appeal, the news that the director
and a financier of one of the films that competed at the recent Metro
Manila Film Festival are suing the jury of the competition on the
grounds of artistic misrecognition merits a once-over. It could be
dismissed, of course, as just another turn in the silly routine in
the business, but this particular case leads to an interesting
paradox. We remember that the Festival was heralded by a controversy
having to do with the manner in which the entries would be selected,
and it expectedly culminated in an awarding ceremony marred by
walkouts, production glitches, sour graping, and the proliferation of
bad taste. Still and all, its chieftains gloat that the Festival
raked in a lot of profits. Between criteria and cash, it is obvious
which one is paramount.
The crux of the problem at the outset pertained to rules and how they
were, let us say, modified to accommodate certain vested interests.
These were guidelines set by the organizers, who unfortunately found
themselves incapable of strictly abiding by them. With such infirmity
and lack of moral nerve defining the tone of the Festival, it came as
no surprise that the jury, unremarkable by all indications, would be
hailed to court for not honoring one film, which is made to appear as
an important motion picture on Philippine history, and for
complimenting others which, as the spin goes, dwell too generously on
the Chinese and the razzle-dazzle of visual effects. The aggrieved
film is Lapu Lapu, whose hero undoubtedly is of stalwart spirit,
being the slayer of the first person to circumnavigate the globe.
Many doubt, however, if the film may share the same stance of
artistic integrity.
It is, therefore, worth thinking about how a community that trifles
with the policy it prescribes could possibly come before the
institutions of the law with clean hands, and consequently subject
itself to regulation. Such disrepute carries weight. In fact, much of
the fear of government in letting the industry police its own ranks,
which incidentally is propped up as an argument against censorship,
stems from the perception that it simply cannot be governed, or that
it cannot govern itself, at least. The scenario occasioned by the
Festival offers yet another evidence that the film establishment and
the sector it represents do not only glorify outlaws in their
merchandise; they also prosper in a state of lawlessness. This proves
to be doubly worrisome because the captain of the Festival’s ship was
both an elected official of a city known for dirty politics and a
movie actor of meager credentials. Or, on second thought, does this
vital detail actually sort it all out?
The foreign press has cited this sense of general lawlessness
prevailing in the country as one of the burdens wearying the
President, an impediment to the strong republic that she envisions
and a reason to sacrifice her political ambitions. Many of the action
films released last year render this lawlessness visual and
cinematically ubiquitous. Consider how the following titles allude to
the usurpation of the powers of the State to dispense swift and
inexorable justice: Bro, Kahit Saan Enkwentro; Batas ng Lansangan;
Hari ng Selda-Anak ni Baby Ama 2; Pistolero; Sabayan sa Laban;
Hanggang Kailan Ako Papatay Para Mabuhay; and Hula Mo, Huli Ko. It
may seem on the surface of this rhetoric that government has ceased
to monopolize the instruments of violence and that violence has
reached a point of excess that is beyond measure. On closer look,
however, we glean from these stories how the military structure, or
the bureaucracy of government in general, is implicated in the
creation of this condition at the same time that it is also viewed as
being responsible for peace and order.
The film Diskarte, directed by the well-known film editor Edgardo
Vinarao, is able to acutely depict this taxing situation. The plot
revolves around a big drug deal that is intercepted by a band of
police scalawags. The operation is, however, hijacked within the ring
by a double crosser who had wished to reap everything for himself.
The brains of the syndicate, who is likewise hoodwinked, is an
official of the force whose role in the massive network of organized
crime is exposed in the end.
The film redeems the genre from its stock methods by presenting a
complicated social reality the way it knows best. Central here are
the concept of crime and the system that allows it to be committed
systematically and, as we realize soon enough, systemically.
Well-directed and well-made on the whole, though not without its
totally understandable compromises, Diskarte comes at a time when
critics have almost given up on a genre that is held hostage by the
spectacle of fire power, the obsession with ammunition, and the
prowess of the male hero. It reminds us of an earlier Rudy
Fernandez-starrer Romy Suzara’s Pepeng Shotgun and Jose Antonio
Perez’s Mumbaki. While it strays from established norms of mainstream
storytelling, it still significantly subscribes to the action
narrative. The rare effort thoughtfully locates “action” as a social
process that arises from the tension between the control of the
institutions, on the one hand, and the struggle of the ruled to
challenge the very claim to power, on the other.
The action film, therefore, is more than just car chases, blasts, and
exchange of gunfire. It is about violence in society and the heroism
that must be mustered to overcome it. It is also about the futility
of putting too much faith in the law, which has become increasingly
indistinguishable from crime. When last week a cluster of houses was
raided by the police for illegal electric connections, it was
reported that the Barangay Captain himself was one of the violators;
he maintained a car wash service and a gym through such ingenious
means. In the midst of terrorist threats, road rage, hazing in a
military academy, and everyday tragedies, we cannot help waging an
infinite number of “just wars” just to preserve ourselves. And we as
a desperate people are no strangers to these transgressions and
instances of exception; we liberally depose leaders and always
exercise our so-called rights whenever the enjoyment of our
convenience is threatened. Surely, in our times, action is nothing
but “taking liberties” and something like diskarte: a stroke, a modus
operandi, an exit strategy. (Reprinted from Manila Standard)
Legal Action
By Patrick D. Flores
If only for its queer and quirky appeal, the news that the director
and a financier of one of the films that competed at the recent Metro
Manila Film Festival are suing the jury of the competition on the
grounds of artistic misrecognition merits a once-over. It could be
dismissed, of course, as just another turn in the silly routine in
the business, but this particular case leads to an interesting
paradox. We remember that the Festival was heralded by a controversy
having to do with the manner in which the entries would be selected,
and it expectedly culminated in an awarding ceremony marred by
walkouts, production glitches, sour graping, and the proliferation of
bad taste. Still and all, its chieftains gloat that the Festival
raked in a lot of profits. Between criteria and cash, it is obvious
which one is paramount.
The crux of the problem at the outset pertained to rules and how they
were, let us say, modified to accommodate certain vested interests.
These were guidelines set by the organizers, who unfortunately found
themselves incapable of strictly abiding by them. With such infirmity
and lack of moral nerve defining the tone of the Festival, it came as
no surprise that the jury, unremarkable by all indications, would be
hailed to court for not honoring one film, which is made to appear as
an important motion picture on Philippine history, and for
complimenting others which, as the spin goes, dwell too generously on
the Chinese and the razzle-dazzle of visual effects. The aggrieved
film is Lapu Lapu, whose hero undoubtedly is of stalwart spirit,
being the slayer of the first person to circumnavigate the globe.
Many doubt, however, if the film may share the same stance of
artistic integrity.
It is, therefore, worth thinking about how a community that trifles
with the policy it prescribes could possibly come before the
institutions of the law with clean hands, and consequently subject
itself to regulation. Such disrepute carries weight. In fact, much of
the fear of government in letting the industry police its own ranks,
which incidentally is propped up as an argument against censorship,
stems from the perception that it simply cannot be governed, or that
it cannot govern itself, at least. The scenario occasioned by the
Festival offers yet another evidence that the film establishment and
the sector it represents do not only glorify outlaws in their
merchandise; they also prosper in a state of lawlessness. This proves
to be doubly worrisome because the captain of the Festival’s ship was
both an elected official of a city known for dirty politics and a
movie actor of meager credentials. Or, on second thought, does this
vital detail actually sort it all out?
The foreign press has cited this sense of general lawlessness
prevailing in the country as one of the burdens wearying the
President, an impediment to the strong republic that she envisions
and a reason to sacrifice her political ambitions. Many of the action
films released last year render this lawlessness visual and
cinematically ubiquitous. Consider how the following titles allude to
the usurpation of the powers of the State to dispense swift and
inexorable justice: Bro, Kahit Saan Enkwentro; Batas ng Lansangan;
Hari ng Selda-Anak ni Baby Ama 2; Pistolero; Sabayan sa Laban;
Hanggang Kailan Ako Papatay Para Mabuhay; and Hula Mo, Huli Ko. It
may seem on the surface of this rhetoric that government has ceased
to monopolize the instruments of violence and that violence has
reached a point of excess that is beyond measure. On closer look,
however, we glean from these stories how the military structure, or
the bureaucracy of government in general, is implicated in the
creation of this condition at the same time that it is also viewed as
being responsible for peace and order.
The film Diskarte, directed by the well-known film editor Edgardo
Vinarao, is able to acutely depict this taxing situation. The plot
revolves around a big drug deal that is intercepted by a band of
police scalawags. The operation is, however, hijacked within the ring
by a double crosser who had wished to reap everything for himself.
The brains of the syndicate, who is likewise hoodwinked, is an
official of the force whose role in the massive network of organized
crime is exposed in the end.
The film redeems the genre from its stock methods by presenting a
complicated social reality the way it knows best. Central here are
the concept of crime and the system that allows it to be committed
systematically and, as we realize soon enough, systemically.
Well-directed and well-made on the whole, though not without its
totally understandable compromises, Diskarte comes at a time when
critics have almost given up on a genre that is held hostage by the
spectacle of fire power, the obsession with ammunition, and the
prowess of the male hero. It reminds us of an earlier Rudy
Fernandez-starrer Romy Suzara’s Pepeng Shotgun and Jose Antonio
Perez’s Mumbaki. While it strays from established norms of mainstream
storytelling, it still significantly subscribes to the action
narrative. The rare effort thoughtfully locates “action” as a social
process that arises from the tension between the control of the
institutions, on the one hand, and the struggle of the ruled to
challenge the very claim to power, on the other.
The action film, therefore, is more than just car chases, blasts, and
exchange of gunfire. It is about violence in society and the heroism
that must be mustered to overcome it. It is also about the futility
of putting too much faith in the law, which has become increasingly
indistinguishable from crime. When last week a cluster of houses was
raided by the police for illegal electric connections, it was
reported that the Barangay Captain himself was one of the violators;
he maintained a car wash service and a gym through such ingenious
means. In the midst of terrorist threats, road rage, hazing in a
military academy, and everyday tragedies, we cannot help waging an
infinite number of “just wars” just to preserve ourselves. And we as
a desperate people are no strangers to these transgressions and
instances of exception; we liberally depose leaders and always
exercise our so-called rights whenever the enjoyment of our
convenience is threatened. Surely, in our times, action is nothing
but “taking liberties” and something like diskarte: a stroke, a modus
operandi, an exit strategy. (Reprinted from Manila Standard)
Babasaging Daigdig sa Itlog Ni Romulo P. Baquiran Jr.
repost from the 2002 YCC citations
Babasaging Daigdig sa Itlog
Ni Romulo P. Baquiran Jr.
Umaasa ang katinuan ng tao sa makataong pagtrato mula sa kapwa, lalo
na sa pinakamalapit na kaanak at kaibigan-ama, anak, at kasintahan.
Sa marupok na pag-iral ng ibat’ibang pagmamahal at paggalang, ang
pinakamatinding banta ay nagmumula rin sa mismong nagsasagawa ng mga
pagpapahalagang ito. Sa daigdig na nabuo sa Itlog, ang ugnayang
ama-anak na nakasalikop rin sa karupukan ng ugnayang tao-sa-tao ay
nabigyan ng masalimuot na pagsasapelikula.
Mumurahing sex-drama ang pagpapakete sa Itlog (sa titulo pa lang)
ngunit ang produksiyon ni Jun Posadas at Romy Vitug sa iskrip ni
Gerry Arcega-Gracio ay lumilikha ng mga signifikasyong makabuluhan
lalo pa sa ganitong genre. Sa pelikula, ginalugad ang isyu kung sino
ang makapagbibigay ng tunay na pagmamahal? Ang sariling anak o ang
sampid? At mapapalitaw sa dramatikong paraan ang pagtugon sa temang
ito, sabay ng pagtaliwas sa de-kahong karakterisasyon. Alibugha ang
tunay na anak na si Eric (Rodel Velayo), mabait na ama si Tonio
(Celso Ad. Castillo), at gustong magbagong-buhay ang ex-convict na si
Dennis (Winston Elizalde).
Sabik sa pagmamahal ng ulirang anak si Tonio kaya laking tuwa niya
nang makatagpo ang bagong laya at estrangherong si Dennis nang siya’y
atakehin sa puso minsang nagmamaneho patungo sa bayan. Iniligtas ng
estranghero ang kanyang buhay. At bilang ganti, kinuha niya itong
katulong sa itikan. Unti-unti, dahil sa kabutihang loob na nabuo sa
kanila, halos tunay na anak na ang turing ni Tonio kay Dennis.
Samantala, nagtungo sa lungsod si Eric dahil kinamumuhian ang gawain
sa itikan. Pinangarap nitong makapag-artista. Ngunit walang nangyari
sa pangarap at bumalik sa lalawigan kasama ang bagong nobyang hangad
maangkin ang yaman ng pamilya. Magiging komplikado pa ang pangyayari
dahil naakit si Dennis sa batang asawa (Diana Zubiri) ni Tonio na
nagbalak ding makuha ang kayamanan ng matanda. Sa wakas, nasira ang
lahat ng makataong ugnayan dahil sa pagkatukso sa salapi at sa tawag
ng laman
Ang daloy ng naratibo ay angkop na nailatag ng pelikula. Ang galaw ng
buhay sa itikan ay mahigpit at natural na naiugnay sa tunggalian at
karakterisasyong tinutumbok ng paksa. Naibunyag kung gayon ang mga
pagkatao ng mga protagonista sa paraang sikolohiko at
kapani-paniwala. Sa Itlog, hindi bulagsak at lantarang manipulado ang
pangyayari at tauhan para lamang maitanghal ang mahahalay na tagpo.
Hindi tulad sa ibang pelikulang sex-drama, kung saan higit na
mahalaga ang pagtatatanghal ng katawan ng mga bold star, dito’y
masasabing may balanseng naisakatuparan. Habang hindi naman lumalabas
sa genre na kinabibilangan ang Itlog, lumilikha rin ito ng mga
pakahulugan na siya namang ikinauungos nito bilang pelikula.
At hindi matatawaran ang pagganap bagama’t hindi pumapailanlang ang
mga ito sa kaganapan ng sining. Maliban na lamang kay Celso Ad.
Castillo na nailahok sa nominado. Naging kapansin-pansin ang simple
ngunit malalim niyang pagdulog sa kahingian ng papel na kanyang
ginampanan.
Patunay lamang ang pelikula sa kasabihan sa industriya na ang husay
ng alinmang produksiyon ay nagsisimula sa konsepto: sa iskrip. At ang
husay ng iskrip ay lalo lamang lilitaw kung mahusay ang produksiyon.
Babasaging Daigdig sa Itlog
Ni Romulo P. Baquiran Jr.
Umaasa ang katinuan ng tao sa makataong pagtrato mula sa kapwa, lalo
na sa pinakamalapit na kaanak at kaibigan-ama, anak, at kasintahan.
Sa marupok na pag-iral ng ibat’ibang pagmamahal at paggalang, ang
pinakamatinding banta ay nagmumula rin sa mismong nagsasagawa ng mga
pagpapahalagang ito. Sa daigdig na nabuo sa Itlog, ang ugnayang
ama-anak na nakasalikop rin sa karupukan ng ugnayang tao-sa-tao ay
nabigyan ng masalimuot na pagsasapelikula.
Mumurahing sex-drama ang pagpapakete sa Itlog (sa titulo pa lang)
ngunit ang produksiyon ni Jun Posadas at Romy Vitug sa iskrip ni
Gerry Arcega-Gracio ay lumilikha ng mga signifikasyong makabuluhan
lalo pa sa ganitong genre. Sa pelikula, ginalugad ang isyu kung sino
ang makapagbibigay ng tunay na pagmamahal? Ang sariling anak o ang
sampid? At mapapalitaw sa dramatikong paraan ang pagtugon sa temang
ito, sabay ng pagtaliwas sa de-kahong karakterisasyon. Alibugha ang
tunay na anak na si Eric (Rodel Velayo), mabait na ama si Tonio
(Celso Ad. Castillo), at gustong magbagong-buhay ang ex-convict na si
Dennis (Winston Elizalde).
Sabik sa pagmamahal ng ulirang anak si Tonio kaya laking tuwa niya
nang makatagpo ang bagong laya at estrangherong si Dennis nang siya’y
atakehin sa puso minsang nagmamaneho patungo sa bayan. Iniligtas ng
estranghero ang kanyang buhay. At bilang ganti, kinuha niya itong
katulong sa itikan. Unti-unti, dahil sa kabutihang loob na nabuo sa
kanila, halos tunay na anak na ang turing ni Tonio kay Dennis.
Samantala, nagtungo sa lungsod si Eric dahil kinamumuhian ang gawain
sa itikan. Pinangarap nitong makapag-artista. Ngunit walang nangyari
sa pangarap at bumalik sa lalawigan kasama ang bagong nobyang hangad
maangkin ang yaman ng pamilya. Magiging komplikado pa ang pangyayari
dahil naakit si Dennis sa batang asawa (Diana Zubiri) ni Tonio na
nagbalak ding makuha ang kayamanan ng matanda. Sa wakas, nasira ang
lahat ng makataong ugnayan dahil sa pagkatukso sa salapi at sa tawag
ng laman
Ang daloy ng naratibo ay angkop na nailatag ng pelikula. Ang galaw ng
buhay sa itikan ay mahigpit at natural na naiugnay sa tunggalian at
karakterisasyong tinutumbok ng paksa. Naibunyag kung gayon ang mga
pagkatao ng mga protagonista sa paraang sikolohiko at
kapani-paniwala. Sa Itlog, hindi bulagsak at lantarang manipulado ang
pangyayari at tauhan para lamang maitanghal ang mahahalay na tagpo.
Hindi tulad sa ibang pelikulang sex-drama, kung saan higit na
mahalaga ang pagtatatanghal ng katawan ng mga bold star, dito’y
masasabing may balanseng naisakatuparan. Habang hindi naman lumalabas
sa genre na kinabibilangan ang Itlog, lumilikha rin ito ng mga
pakahulugan na siya namang ikinauungos nito bilang pelikula.
At hindi matatawaran ang pagganap bagama’t hindi pumapailanlang ang
mga ito sa kaganapan ng sining. Maliban na lamang kay Celso Ad.
Castillo na nailahok sa nominado. Naging kapansin-pansin ang simple
ngunit malalim niyang pagdulog sa kahingian ng papel na kanyang
ginampanan.
Patunay lamang ang pelikula sa kasabihan sa industriya na ang husay
ng alinmang produksiyon ay nagsisimula sa konsepto: sa iskrip. At ang
husay ng iskrip ay lalo lamang lilitaw kung mahusay ang produksiyon.
Turning a New Leaf By Patrick D. Flores
repost from the 2002 YCC citations
Turning a New Leaf
By Patrick D. Flores
Uro de la Cruz’s Buko Pandan opens with a winding road that leads its
audiences through the heartland of Southern Tagalog, coconut country
of lush vegetation that glistens in the drizzle. A jeepney takes a
young woman to a remote neighborhood of tall plants and cool springs,
where she casts off a prisoner’s garb into the current of its storied
waters.
The film is marketed as being of the bold genre, and certain
conventions and codes bear this intention out. The evocation itself
of a milieu blessed by bounty and relatively unspoiled by the
corruption of the city and its mores builds up the image of a
virginal domain waiting to be explored and consequently ravaged by
the prurient eyes of the camera. But formula is one thing, and
expression is another. A certain style of filmmaking, based on genre
or other considerations, is taken as any distinct mode of creating
form in film, and it is made possible only against a background of
options that makes a particular choice significant, meaningful, and
therefore recognizable stylistically. Film artists work within these
possibilities in the process of making art, but are never limited to
custom and habit. As an erudite art historian puts it: “The style
forbids certain moves and recommends others as effective, but the
degree of latitude left to the individual within this system varies
at least as much as it does in games.”
We can glean in Buko Pandan traces of both rule and risk in the realm
of style. Apart from its captivating visual sweep of the countryside
peopled by farmers and police, it has for its main characters two
sisters on the cusp of womanhood, so to speak. They live with their
grandmother who is stricken by tuberculosis. Their father had drowned
in the river, which also had earlier claimed the life of their
grandfather who, in a freak accident, would be smothered by what
could well have been an eel. At the outset, the rustic province is
wracked by tragedies that lurk behind its deceptively benevolent
flora and fauna.
But besides natural adversities, our heroines also confront threats
posed by culture and civilization, a mode of modernity that
challenges tradition. The young women are portrayed as innocent
maidens traipsing across their little land in flimsy dresses,
obviously a concession to the genre. Their ways are girlish and
charge nary a malice even against the most lascivious, the better for
the men of the town to take advantage of them and indulge in their
guile. They are exposed, in other words, in more ways than one to the
conditions of labor as they weave palm-like fronds from seemingly
giant bromeliads into wide-brimmed hats, and to urbanization as they
deal with the bid of the son of a wealthy neighbor, who comes back
from the city, for the spring that they own. The man wants to build a
resort. We observe from these complications that the lives of Bining
and Esper are not trapped in a vacuum, but play out in social
situations. We see them going to school, listening to vapid radio
serials, and also dreaming of a future beyond Luisiana-Laguna.
As in tales of this streak, there is the moment of sibling rivalry.
We witness the sisters vying for the attention of the rich kid next
door, who exploits their varying vulnerabilities and aspirations for
mobility. The elder, Bining, is circumspect, refusing to sell the
spring down the river. But the younger, Esper, is impulsive, somewhat
rebellious, and less discerning. Both of them lust after the same
man, but it is the latter who musters up enough nerve to go up the
stone house. This single act of indiscretion steers the film toward
sharp turns that end up in murder and sacrifice.
Buko Pandan moves headlong by snaking into the memory of Bining who
does time for a crime Esper had committed out of a fatal combination
of guilt and rage. We see both of them in the end reunited, with
Esper tending their humble homestead in the contented arms of her
loving husband, her former childhood beau, and daughter, and with
Bining steeled by experience and insight. In this passage from purity
to pollution, from seduction to danger, from death to renewal, from
departure to homecoming, the “bold” film redeems itself. Instead of
abusing the theme of the rape of a virginal colony represented by
virginal women baring the abundance of their flesh and the poverty of
their mind, it bothers to understand what it is that women want and
why they want it under circumstances both within and beyond the
control of their limited reckoning.
This cinematic redemption keenly condenses in the metaphor of the
pandan whose leaf gives off a uniquely sweet scent, especially when
mixed with boiled rice, and whose fiber lends itself well to the art
of weaving. The buko or coconut is a more typical reference to rural
clearings and its limpid juice that drips across the bodies of women
is without doubt stock in trade.
All things considered, Buko Pandan is almost but not quite a bold
film. While it is true that its cast-Maricar de Mesa, Pyar Mirasol,
and Paolo Rivero-are packaged as bold stars, they hold out more than
their anatomies for autopsy. They perform very well, given the
parameters of the genre, and are sincere in infusing life into roles
that they, from the looks of it, are familiar and sympathetic with.
Moreover, while it is true that the film meets its quota of industry
requirements, it is able to go beyond its predestined outcome. The
director, with a degree of compassion for the material, carries the
seeds of the story to fertile ground, tilling a field of fruitful
images, motifs, symbols-and wistful music from Coritha. If what
hobbles Philippine cinema is the failure of imagination and
initiative, Buko Pandan, which echoes Claude Berri’s Jean de Florette
and Manon of the Spring, proves the cynics wrong to some tolerable
degree. For framing a bittersweet horizon of the Philippine pastoral
and its promise of plenty and perdition, the film, like the leaf it
lovingly invokes, is at once filament and fragrance. (Reprinted from
Manila Standard)
Turning a New Leaf
By Patrick D. Flores
Uro de la Cruz’s Buko Pandan opens with a winding road that leads its
audiences through the heartland of Southern Tagalog, coconut country
of lush vegetation that glistens in the drizzle. A jeepney takes a
young woman to a remote neighborhood of tall plants and cool springs,
where she casts off a prisoner’s garb into the current of its storied
waters.
The film is marketed as being of the bold genre, and certain
conventions and codes bear this intention out. The evocation itself
of a milieu blessed by bounty and relatively unspoiled by the
corruption of the city and its mores builds up the image of a
virginal domain waiting to be explored and consequently ravaged by
the prurient eyes of the camera. But formula is one thing, and
expression is another. A certain style of filmmaking, based on genre
or other considerations, is taken as any distinct mode of creating
form in film, and it is made possible only against a background of
options that makes a particular choice significant, meaningful, and
therefore recognizable stylistically. Film artists work within these
possibilities in the process of making art, but are never limited to
custom and habit. As an erudite art historian puts it: “The style
forbids certain moves and recommends others as effective, but the
degree of latitude left to the individual within this system varies
at least as much as it does in games.”
We can glean in Buko Pandan traces of both rule and risk in the realm
of style. Apart from its captivating visual sweep of the countryside
peopled by farmers and police, it has for its main characters two
sisters on the cusp of womanhood, so to speak. They live with their
grandmother who is stricken by tuberculosis. Their father had drowned
in the river, which also had earlier claimed the life of their
grandfather who, in a freak accident, would be smothered by what
could well have been an eel. At the outset, the rustic province is
wracked by tragedies that lurk behind its deceptively benevolent
flora and fauna.
But besides natural adversities, our heroines also confront threats
posed by culture and civilization, a mode of modernity that
challenges tradition. The young women are portrayed as innocent
maidens traipsing across their little land in flimsy dresses,
obviously a concession to the genre. Their ways are girlish and
charge nary a malice even against the most lascivious, the better for
the men of the town to take advantage of them and indulge in their
guile. They are exposed, in other words, in more ways than one to the
conditions of labor as they weave palm-like fronds from seemingly
giant bromeliads into wide-brimmed hats, and to urbanization as they
deal with the bid of the son of a wealthy neighbor, who comes back
from the city, for the spring that they own. The man wants to build a
resort. We observe from these complications that the lives of Bining
and Esper are not trapped in a vacuum, but play out in social
situations. We see them going to school, listening to vapid radio
serials, and also dreaming of a future beyond Luisiana-Laguna.
As in tales of this streak, there is the moment of sibling rivalry.
We witness the sisters vying for the attention of the rich kid next
door, who exploits their varying vulnerabilities and aspirations for
mobility. The elder, Bining, is circumspect, refusing to sell the
spring down the river. But the younger, Esper, is impulsive, somewhat
rebellious, and less discerning. Both of them lust after the same
man, but it is the latter who musters up enough nerve to go up the
stone house. This single act of indiscretion steers the film toward
sharp turns that end up in murder and sacrifice.
Buko Pandan moves headlong by snaking into the memory of Bining who
does time for a crime Esper had committed out of a fatal combination
of guilt and rage. We see both of them in the end reunited, with
Esper tending their humble homestead in the contented arms of her
loving husband, her former childhood beau, and daughter, and with
Bining steeled by experience and insight. In this passage from purity
to pollution, from seduction to danger, from death to renewal, from
departure to homecoming, the “bold” film redeems itself. Instead of
abusing the theme of the rape of a virginal colony represented by
virginal women baring the abundance of their flesh and the poverty of
their mind, it bothers to understand what it is that women want and
why they want it under circumstances both within and beyond the
control of their limited reckoning.
This cinematic redemption keenly condenses in the metaphor of the
pandan whose leaf gives off a uniquely sweet scent, especially when
mixed with boiled rice, and whose fiber lends itself well to the art
of weaving. The buko or coconut is a more typical reference to rural
clearings and its limpid juice that drips across the bodies of women
is without doubt stock in trade.
All things considered, Buko Pandan is almost but not quite a bold
film. While it is true that its cast-Maricar de Mesa, Pyar Mirasol,
and Paolo Rivero-are packaged as bold stars, they hold out more than
their anatomies for autopsy. They perform very well, given the
parameters of the genre, and are sincere in infusing life into roles
that they, from the looks of it, are familiar and sympathetic with.
Moreover, while it is true that the film meets its quota of industry
requirements, it is able to go beyond its predestined outcome. The
director, with a degree of compassion for the material, carries the
seeds of the story to fertile ground, tilling a field of fruitful
images, motifs, symbols-and wistful music from Coritha. If what
hobbles Philippine cinema is the failure of imagination and
initiative, Buko Pandan, which echoes Claude Berri’s Jean de Florette
and Manon of the Spring, proves the cynics wrong to some tolerable
degree. For framing a bittersweet horizon of the Philippine pastoral
and its promise of plenty and perdition, the film, like the leaf it
lovingly invokes, is at once filament and fragrance. (Reprinted from
Manila Standard)
Rekompigurasyon ng Lipunan Alinsunod sa Pananaw ni Amanda ni Ni Ariel N. Valerio
repost from the 2002 YCC citations
Rekompigurasyon ng Lipunan Alinsunod sa Pananaw ni Amanda
Ni Ariel N. Valerio
Pinaksa ng Dekada ’70 ang isa sa mga pinakamaligalig at pinakamasalimuot na yugto ng kontemporanyong lipunang Pilipino. Sa pagtatangka pa lamang na halughugin ang lalim at lawak ng naturang panahon, isang mabigat na atas na agad ang ipinatong ng pelikula sa
sarili at sa manonood nito. Sa pamamayani ng Batas Militar, maraming realidad ang siniil (suppressed), itinatwa (ignored) at binaligtad (inverted) ng estado upang panatilihin ang status quo; bagay na lubusang nagpahirap sa mga historyador upang kumpirmahin ang
makabuluhang kilos ng kasaysayan.
Mas mahirap ang naging gawain ng mga alagad ng sining sapagkat sila ang tuwirang target ng mekanismo ng kooptasyon. Ilang libro ang ipinalathala ni Marcos sa pangalan niya upang sustinihan ang propaganda ng “rebolusyon mula sa gitna”. May mga manunulat na kinabig ng estado upang magpalaganap ng “magandang balita” o ng
“bagong lipunan”. Itinatag din ang Cultural Center of the Philippines, Folk Arts Center, at ang Film Center upang umawit ng osana sa rehimen.
Sa huling bahagi ng dekada sitenta, polarisado na ang lipunan. Dalawa lamang ang pagpipilian ng artista: maging instrumento ng propaganda ng gobyerno o maging mapagpalayang tinig ng sambayanang Pilipino. Sa ganitong uri ng tunggalian, walang panggitna o nyutral na posisyon.
Isa ang nobelang Dekada ’70 sa mga likhang sining sa panahon ng Batas Militar na tuwirang tumuligsa sa diktadura ni Marcos. Ito ang pinagbatayan ng pelikulang dinirihe ni Chito Roño. Mula sa indibidwalisadong proseso ng produksyon (literatura), isinalin ang materyal sa isang mala-kolektibong proseso ng paglikha. Sa una, kontrolado ng manunulat bawat titik na gagamitin sa nobela; sa ikalawa, walang iisang pwersang maaaring magdikta ng direksyon.
Itinuturing na mala-kolektibo ang paglikha ng pelikula sapagkat kawangis ng proseso ang kolektibong pagdesisyon ng isang grupo ng mga indibidwal na nakatuon sa isang produkto. Ngunit hindi ito lubusang kolektibo dahil may de-kahong papel ang mga taong sangkot sa proseso-halimbawa, hindi maaaring pakialaman ng sinematograper ang editor-kaya wala ring nagaganap na palitan at negosasyon ng mga ideya. Sa halip, nagiging dominanteng pwersa ang prodyuser na may pangunahing interes hindi sa sining ng pelikula kundi sa kalansing ng pera sa takilya.
Kung gayon, tatlong pangunahing balakid ang agad matatagpuan sa landas ng paglikha ng pelikulang Dekada ’70: 1) paggagap sa kontekstong historikal, 2) pagsalin sa anyong pampelikula, at 3) pagtugon sa kahingian ng industriya nang hindi ikinokompromiso ang sining.
Paano humulagpos ang pelikula sa mga balakid na ito?
Paggagap sa kontekstong historikal
Mayaman sa historikal na alusyon ang pelikula. Pinagsikapan nitong isabuhay ang mga pangkalahatang katangian ng panahon-rali ng mga estudyante, pag-alis ng writ of habeas corpus, pagdeklara ng Batas Militar, pagpataw ng curfew, human rights violations, paglawak ng kilusang protesta. Tumatahi sa mga ito ang mga mumunting pangyayari
sa pang-araw-araw na buhay ng pamilya Bartolome-pamumundok ni Jules, pagsali ni Gani sa US Navy, pagkapatay kay Jason-na walang humpay ding nagpatahip sa dibdib ni Amanda at nagpatingkad sa tunggalian nila ni Julian.
Nagbukas at nagsara ang pelikula sa tila dokumentaryong film clips ng multi-sektoral na kilos-protesta laban sa diktadura ni Marcos. Isa-isang tinalunton pagkatapos ang mga insidenteng nagpamulat sa isang ordinaryong maybahay tulad ni Amanda. Mapapansing hindi hiwalay ang pagtalakay sa pangkalahatang sitwasyon ng lipunan sa partikular
na kondisyon ng pamilyang Bartolome. Maipagpapalagay, kung gayon, na
itinaguyod ng pelikula ang paradimang “ang personal ay pulitikal.”
“Ang mga kamay na nag-uugoy ng duyan ang mga kamay na nagpapaikot ng mundo,” wika ni Amanda sa simula ng pelikula. Ito ang tesis na binigyan ng kontra-tesis sa patriarkal na pananaw ni Julian. “It’s a man’s world,” mayabang na bigkas ng lalaki habang nasa hapag ang buong pamilya. “Every man must have something to die for,” uulitin niya sa ibang okasyon, “para matawag siyang lalaki.”
Nagsalimbayan ang kontradiksyon sa tatlong lunan ng lahi, uri at
sari. Walang linyar na pokus ang pagpapatampok sa mga ito. Sa halip,
dumaloy ang buong kwento sa kamalayan ni Amanda. Nagtapos ito sa
personal na rekompigurasyon ng babae sa kanyang lipunan habang
patuloy ding nagbabago ang kanyang materyal na kondisyon.
Paghulagpos sa anyo
Sa isang pormalistang suri, bagsak talaga ang Dekada ’70. Buhaghag
ang naratibo. Hindi nakatulong ang ibang eksena para patindihin ang
kasukdulan. Palipat-lipat ang punto de bista sa loob at labas ng
tahanan, kamalayan at lipunan ni Amanda.
Ngunit kung babakasin ang pelikula mula sa nobela, napakalayo ng
narating ng Dekada ’70. Mula simpleng pagsipi ng mga taludtod mula sa
The Prophet ni Kahlil Gibran, napatingkad ng pelikula ang kabuluhan
ng mga ito sa pamamagitan ng mga tauhan. Mula pagsipi ng datos sa
Ibon Facts and Figures, isinabuhay ng pelikula ang sanhi ng paglawak
ng protesta. Gayundin, mula sa mga larawang iginuhi ng mga salita ni
Lualhati Bautista sa nobela, nabuhay ang mga karakter upang patuloy
na ipagunita sa manonood ang pinakamadilim na yugto ng
kontemporanyong kasaysayang Pilipino.
Humulagpos ang pelikula mula sa nobela. Sinubukan ding humulagpos ng
pelikula sa sarili nitong genre. Sinimulan ni Lino Brocka sa
Orapronobis ang pagpasok ng documentary film clips sa pagitan ng mga
eksenang dramatiko. Itinuloy ito ni Joel Lamangan sa ilang pelikula
tulad ng Flor Contemplacion. Mas pinong bersyon ang matatagpuan sa
Dekada ’70-binuksan at isinara ang naratibo sa taas-kamao at
multi-sektoral na kilos-protesta ngunit hindi nagpatali sa
preskribtibong pormula ng mapagpalayang kilusan.
Suma total ang isang pelikulang bakubako tulad ng mga lansangan sa
kanayunan, humahampas tulad ng mga alon sa batuhan, humuhugong tulad
ng hangin kapag may sigwa.
Humulagpos ang pelikula sa anyo at nilalaman, tulad ng paghulagpos ni
Amanda sa mapaniil na lipunang patriarkal.
Pagtugon sa gusto ng takilya
Gayumpaman, hindi nagbulag-bulagan ang mga lumikha ng pelikula sa
kahingian ng industriya.
Nariyan ang mabentang tambalan nina Christopher de Leon at Vilma
Santos. Binigyan ng sapat na espasyo ang matinee idols na gumanap
bilang mga anak ng mag-asawang Bartolome. Kalakip din ang masisidhing
eksena ng personal na tunggalian upang magpaluha, magpasaya,
magpagunita at magpamulat kung kailangan.
Maliban sa paggamit ng mga elementong panghatak sa manonood-na
talamak sa industriya ng pelikulang Pilipino ngayon-sinubukan din ng
pelikulang gamitin ang mga elementong ito upang makapagbukas ng mga
bintana sa kamalayan ng madlang manonood.
Sintesis ng salimbayan
Ilang ulit nang inokupa ng iba’t ibang uri ng lipunan ang EDSA bilang
tarangkahan ng kapangyarihan ngunit hindi minsan man naglingon-likod
sa mahabang panahon ng pakikibaka mula huling hati ng dekada sisenta
hanggang unang hati ng dekada otsenta.
Sa halip, laging ibinabaon sa limot ang panahong iyon ng pagpupunyagi
upang maipundar ang isang kilusang mapagpalayang nakaugat sa
Rebolusyong 1896 at nagtataguyod sa mga mithiin ng higit na
nakararaming Pilipino.
Kamakailan, inamin ng isang mataas na opisyal ng US ang pakikialam ng
kanyang bansa sa EDSA 1986. Isang bagay na agad itinatwa ng ilan sa
mga tagapagtaguyod ng naturang rebelyon. Isang bagay namang ikinatuwa
ng anak ng dating Pangulong Marcos dahil lumabas din daw sa wakas ang
katotohanan na ang Rebelyong 1986 dinesenyo ng Amerika. Samakatwid,
hindi ito maituturing na lehitimong rebolusyon kundi isang kudeta.
Hanggat patuloy na inililibing sa puntod ng kasaysayan ang panahong
ito, patuloy na magmumulto ang mga Pilipinong itinimbuwang ng
karahasan sa gitna ng pambansang pakikibaka laban sa diktadura.
Ito ang halaga ng pelikulang Dekada ’70 na hindi kayang igpawan ng
mga kaalinsabay nito-pagbalik-tanaw sa panahong nagluwal sa mga
bayaning walang pangalan tungo sa paglaya ng bayan. Habang
nagsasawalang kibo ang maraming Pilipino sa tunay na kabuluhan ng
panahong ito, patuloy na gagamitin ng iba’t ibang pwersa ang kilusang
naipundar ng luha at dugo ng mga Pilipinong nagmahal sa sariling
bayan. Isang testimonya ang pelikula sa kamalayang hindi magagapi at
patuloy na magsasatinig sa katotohanan.
Mahalaga ring bigyang-pansin na isinagawa ang balik-tanaw sa
kamalayan ni Amanda at sa pagkilos ng kanyang mga kamay na nag-ugoy
ng duyan. Sa madaling salita, muling sinipat ang kasaysayan sa
pananaw ng babae. Ngunit sa halip na baligtarin ang katotohanan upang
mangibabaw ang kababaihan-tulad ng madalas gawin ng radikal na
feminismo-itinuring ni Amanda ang asawa bilang kahati, karugtong ng
buhay, kaisang-dibdib.
Sa multi-sektoral na pakikibaka, kapit-kamay ang lalaki at babae
gayundin ang iba’t ibang uri ng lipunan upang isakatuparan ang
rekompigurasyon ng lipunang Pilipino. Ito ang resolusyon ng
kontradiksyon. Ito rin ang siyang tutunguhin ng Pilipinas sa mga
darating na panahon.
Rekompigurasyon ng Lipunan Alinsunod sa Pananaw ni Amanda
Ni Ariel N. Valerio
Pinaksa ng Dekada ’70 ang isa sa mga pinakamaligalig at pinakamasalimuot na yugto ng kontemporanyong lipunang Pilipino. Sa pagtatangka pa lamang na halughugin ang lalim at lawak ng naturang panahon, isang mabigat na atas na agad ang ipinatong ng pelikula sa
sarili at sa manonood nito. Sa pamamayani ng Batas Militar, maraming realidad ang siniil (suppressed), itinatwa (ignored) at binaligtad (inverted) ng estado upang panatilihin ang status quo; bagay na lubusang nagpahirap sa mga historyador upang kumpirmahin ang
makabuluhang kilos ng kasaysayan.
Mas mahirap ang naging gawain ng mga alagad ng sining sapagkat sila ang tuwirang target ng mekanismo ng kooptasyon. Ilang libro ang ipinalathala ni Marcos sa pangalan niya upang sustinihan ang propaganda ng “rebolusyon mula sa gitna”. May mga manunulat na kinabig ng estado upang magpalaganap ng “magandang balita” o ng
“bagong lipunan”. Itinatag din ang Cultural Center of the Philippines, Folk Arts Center, at ang Film Center upang umawit ng osana sa rehimen.
Sa huling bahagi ng dekada sitenta, polarisado na ang lipunan. Dalawa lamang ang pagpipilian ng artista: maging instrumento ng propaganda ng gobyerno o maging mapagpalayang tinig ng sambayanang Pilipino. Sa ganitong uri ng tunggalian, walang panggitna o nyutral na posisyon.
Isa ang nobelang Dekada ’70 sa mga likhang sining sa panahon ng Batas Militar na tuwirang tumuligsa sa diktadura ni Marcos. Ito ang pinagbatayan ng pelikulang dinirihe ni Chito Roño. Mula sa indibidwalisadong proseso ng produksyon (literatura), isinalin ang materyal sa isang mala-kolektibong proseso ng paglikha. Sa una, kontrolado ng manunulat bawat titik na gagamitin sa nobela; sa ikalawa, walang iisang pwersang maaaring magdikta ng direksyon.
Itinuturing na mala-kolektibo ang paglikha ng pelikula sapagkat kawangis ng proseso ang kolektibong pagdesisyon ng isang grupo ng mga indibidwal na nakatuon sa isang produkto. Ngunit hindi ito lubusang kolektibo dahil may de-kahong papel ang mga taong sangkot sa proseso-halimbawa, hindi maaaring pakialaman ng sinematograper ang editor-kaya wala ring nagaganap na palitan at negosasyon ng mga ideya. Sa halip, nagiging dominanteng pwersa ang prodyuser na may pangunahing interes hindi sa sining ng pelikula kundi sa kalansing ng pera sa takilya.
Kung gayon, tatlong pangunahing balakid ang agad matatagpuan sa landas ng paglikha ng pelikulang Dekada ’70: 1) paggagap sa kontekstong historikal, 2) pagsalin sa anyong pampelikula, at 3) pagtugon sa kahingian ng industriya nang hindi ikinokompromiso ang sining.
Paano humulagpos ang pelikula sa mga balakid na ito?
Paggagap sa kontekstong historikal
Mayaman sa historikal na alusyon ang pelikula. Pinagsikapan nitong isabuhay ang mga pangkalahatang katangian ng panahon-rali ng mga estudyante, pag-alis ng writ of habeas corpus, pagdeklara ng Batas Militar, pagpataw ng curfew, human rights violations, paglawak ng kilusang protesta. Tumatahi sa mga ito ang mga mumunting pangyayari
sa pang-araw-araw na buhay ng pamilya Bartolome-pamumundok ni Jules, pagsali ni Gani sa US Navy, pagkapatay kay Jason-na walang humpay ding nagpatahip sa dibdib ni Amanda at nagpatingkad sa tunggalian nila ni Julian.
Nagbukas at nagsara ang pelikula sa tila dokumentaryong film clips ng multi-sektoral na kilos-protesta laban sa diktadura ni Marcos. Isa-isang tinalunton pagkatapos ang mga insidenteng nagpamulat sa isang ordinaryong maybahay tulad ni Amanda. Mapapansing hindi hiwalay ang pagtalakay sa pangkalahatang sitwasyon ng lipunan sa partikular
na kondisyon ng pamilyang Bartolome. Maipagpapalagay, kung gayon, na
itinaguyod ng pelikula ang paradimang “ang personal ay pulitikal.”
“Ang mga kamay na nag-uugoy ng duyan ang mga kamay na nagpapaikot ng mundo,” wika ni Amanda sa simula ng pelikula. Ito ang tesis na binigyan ng kontra-tesis sa patriarkal na pananaw ni Julian. “It’s a man’s world,” mayabang na bigkas ng lalaki habang nasa hapag ang buong pamilya. “Every man must have something to die for,” uulitin niya sa ibang okasyon, “para matawag siyang lalaki.”
Nagsalimbayan ang kontradiksyon sa tatlong lunan ng lahi, uri at
sari. Walang linyar na pokus ang pagpapatampok sa mga ito. Sa halip,
dumaloy ang buong kwento sa kamalayan ni Amanda. Nagtapos ito sa
personal na rekompigurasyon ng babae sa kanyang lipunan habang
patuloy ding nagbabago ang kanyang materyal na kondisyon.
Paghulagpos sa anyo
Sa isang pormalistang suri, bagsak talaga ang Dekada ’70. Buhaghag
ang naratibo. Hindi nakatulong ang ibang eksena para patindihin ang
kasukdulan. Palipat-lipat ang punto de bista sa loob at labas ng
tahanan, kamalayan at lipunan ni Amanda.
Ngunit kung babakasin ang pelikula mula sa nobela, napakalayo ng
narating ng Dekada ’70. Mula simpleng pagsipi ng mga taludtod mula sa
The Prophet ni Kahlil Gibran, napatingkad ng pelikula ang kabuluhan
ng mga ito sa pamamagitan ng mga tauhan. Mula pagsipi ng datos sa
Ibon Facts and Figures, isinabuhay ng pelikula ang sanhi ng paglawak
ng protesta. Gayundin, mula sa mga larawang iginuhi ng mga salita ni
Lualhati Bautista sa nobela, nabuhay ang mga karakter upang patuloy
na ipagunita sa manonood ang pinakamadilim na yugto ng
kontemporanyong kasaysayang Pilipino.
Humulagpos ang pelikula mula sa nobela. Sinubukan ding humulagpos ng
pelikula sa sarili nitong genre. Sinimulan ni Lino Brocka sa
Orapronobis ang pagpasok ng documentary film clips sa pagitan ng mga
eksenang dramatiko. Itinuloy ito ni Joel Lamangan sa ilang pelikula
tulad ng Flor Contemplacion. Mas pinong bersyon ang matatagpuan sa
Dekada ’70-binuksan at isinara ang naratibo sa taas-kamao at
multi-sektoral na kilos-protesta ngunit hindi nagpatali sa
preskribtibong pormula ng mapagpalayang kilusan.
Suma total ang isang pelikulang bakubako tulad ng mga lansangan sa
kanayunan, humahampas tulad ng mga alon sa batuhan, humuhugong tulad
ng hangin kapag may sigwa.
Humulagpos ang pelikula sa anyo at nilalaman, tulad ng paghulagpos ni
Amanda sa mapaniil na lipunang patriarkal.
Pagtugon sa gusto ng takilya
Gayumpaman, hindi nagbulag-bulagan ang mga lumikha ng pelikula sa
kahingian ng industriya.
Nariyan ang mabentang tambalan nina Christopher de Leon at Vilma
Santos. Binigyan ng sapat na espasyo ang matinee idols na gumanap
bilang mga anak ng mag-asawang Bartolome. Kalakip din ang masisidhing
eksena ng personal na tunggalian upang magpaluha, magpasaya,
magpagunita at magpamulat kung kailangan.
Maliban sa paggamit ng mga elementong panghatak sa manonood-na
talamak sa industriya ng pelikulang Pilipino ngayon-sinubukan din ng
pelikulang gamitin ang mga elementong ito upang makapagbukas ng mga
bintana sa kamalayan ng madlang manonood.
Sintesis ng salimbayan
Ilang ulit nang inokupa ng iba’t ibang uri ng lipunan ang EDSA bilang
tarangkahan ng kapangyarihan ngunit hindi minsan man naglingon-likod
sa mahabang panahon ng pakikibaka mula huling hati ng dekada sisenta
hanggang unang hati ng dekada otsenta.
Sa halip, laging ibinabaon sa limot ang panahong iyon ng pagpupunyagi
upang maipundar ang isang kilusang mapagpalayang nakaugat sa
Rebolusyong 1896 at nagtataguyod sa mga mithiin ng higit na
nakararaming Pilipino.
Kamakailan, inamin ng isang mataas na opisyal ng US ang pakikialam ng
kanyang bansa sa EDSA 1986. Isang bagay na agad itinatwa ng ilan sa
mga tagapagtaguyod ng naturang rebelyon. Isang bagay namang ikinatuwa
ng anak ng dating Pangulong Marcos dahil lumabas din daw sa wakas ang
katotohanan na ang Rebelyong 1986 dinesenyo ng Amerika. Samakatwid,
hindi ito maituturing na lehitimong rebolusyon kundi isang kudeta.
Hanggat patuloy na inililibing sa puntod ng kasaysayan ang panahong
ito, patuloy na magmumulto ang mga Pilipinong itinimbuwang ng
karahasan sa gitna ng pambansang pakikibaka laban sa diktadura.
Ito ang halaga ng pelikulang Dekada ’70 na hindi kayang igpawan ng
mga kaalinsabay nito-pagbalik-tanaw sa panahong nagluwal sa mga
bayaning walang pangalan tungo sa paglaya ng bayan. Habang
nagsasawalang kibo ang maraming Pilipino sa tunay na kabuluhan ng
panahong ito, patuloy na gagamitin ng iba’t ibang pwersa ang kilusang
naipundar ng luha at dugo ng mga Pilipinong nagmahal sa sariling
bayan. Isang testimonya ang pelikula sa kamalayang hindi magagapi at
patuloy na magsasatinig sa katotohanan.
Mahalaga ring bigyang-pansin na isinagawa ang balik-tanaw sa
kamalayan ni Amanda at sa pagkilos ng kanyang mga kamay na nag-ugoy
ng duyan. Sa madaling salita, muling sinipat ang kasaysayan sa
pananaw ng babae. Ngunit sa halip na baligtarin ang katotohanan upang
mangibabaw ang kababaihan-tulad ng madalas gawin ng radikal na
feminismo-itinuring ni Amanda ang asawa bilang kahati, karugtong ng
buhay, kaisang-dibdib.
Sa multi-sektoral na pakikibaka, kapit-kamay ang lalaki at babae
gayundin ang iba’t ibang uri ng lipunan upang isakatuparan ang
rekompigurasyon ng lipunang Pilipino. Ito ang resolusyon ng
kontradiksyon. Ito rin ang siyang tutunguhin ng Pilipinas sa mga
darating na panahon.
A handful of gems by Nonoy Lauzon
repost from the 2002 YCC citations
A handful of gems
Nonoy Lauzon
FOR Film Year 2002, the Film Desk of the Young Critics Circle reviewed a total of 94 films that comprised the full output of local cinema in the given period. It was no less a daunting task. Dying it may seem, Philippine cinema remains one of the most prolific motion picture industries in the world. Sadly, what it delivers in quantity, it cannot in quality. Out of scores of homegrown productions last year, YCC found just a handful that could be considered meritorious and deserving of the critics' honors.
The local film industry has patents for plenty hoaxes and they cloud the truthful pursuit for recognizing cinematic excellence. Luckily in its incessant commitment to foster an alternative and emergent articulation of the practice of criticism, YCC-never falling prey-is not to be duped. For the 13th Annual Circle Citations for Distinguished Achievement in Film, YCC had to overturn the decisions of two festival juries and uphold the integrity of certain films
whose worth the industry with its twisted standards and through its coterie of apologists and paid hacks would readily dismiss.
Foremost of the films YCC holds in high regard is Chito S. Roño's Dekada '70 (Star Cinema)-adjudged Best Film of the Year. As any work of art, the film is not perfect. But its tale of a plain housewife's political and social awakening is not to be resisted. It came at a time when the industry mainstream had rendered out of vogue the making of films of this sort-the better to distort the moviegoing
public's notion of good films and manipulate them into patronizing exclusively mediocre and seemingly innocuous fare instead. Apparently, the merchants of the celluloid are too consumed in self-preservation that they wouldn't want the status quo shaken and the order of things altered even a bit. They are afraid of truly good films as these have power to transform society simply by illuminating
reality and providing enlightenment to the viewing throng. For them, some things in the past are best forgotten. When certain films lead viewers to a remembrance of things that they should rather forget in keeping with the designs of the powers-that-be, it's bad for business and there is cause for alarm.
From the screenplay of Lualhati Bautista based on her Palanca award-winning novel, Dekada '70 is one of those films that are to be dreaded and its critical and popular rejection is one of those elaborate schemes that have to be hatched if the existing order of things had to prevail. In the interest of the status quo, the film has to be shunned, subdued and suppressed. As it enjoins audiences to
revisit the horrible episode in the country's past, it opens a can of worms that could spell disaster for the current state of affairs and jeopardize in effect the high stakes waged by the present dispensation's very overlords.
In this sense, the ultimate triumph of Dekada '70 lies not so much in recounting the horrors of Martial Law but in taking into account how one can embrace social change and follow the path towards struggle. This is dramatized in the metaphorical odyssey taken by the film's central figure, a wife and mother named Amanda Bartolome. At first, she would think that pleasing her husband and raising her five boys are all that matters in life. When monstrosities entailed by the turbulent times would prove otherwise, she would come to realize that to be a dutiful wife and loving mother means nothing amidst the
social landscape without the wheels of justice, suffused with the spilt blood of oppression and severely debilitated by rampant poverty. The abiding wife and caring mother would then stop just tending to her home to reach out to the larger society that she would find in need too of her cradling. The symbolic trek Amanda would set out to embark on could nevertheless be hers alone. It must also be the inspiring odyssey involving countless others that audiences may
do well to emulate for the valor and resolve they exemplify in taking up a cause. Dekada '70 pays homage to them as well. The film is also recognized for Best Screenplay, Best Achievement in Sound which includes music and Best Performance by the mother-and-son team of Vilma Santos and Piolo Pascual.
In addition to Dekada '70, YCC also honors more titles that encompass a gamut of fulfilled cinematic possibilities. They complete YCC's roster of top films for the year. Gil M. Portes' Mga Munting Tinig (Teamwork Productions; Maverick Films; CAP Philippines)-to the shallow mind-is a poor ersatz film with a lofty dream to break into the world market. But lost on its jaded detractors is the supreme value of the film in igniting the flames of idealism embodied by the
character of a remote barrio's novice teacher who shall exhaust all means for her deprived wards to gain a chance in life. Music would be the key to their salvation and it would be compellingly demonstrated how the pursuit of art could prod hapless innocents to surpass Third World squalor.
Winner of Best Achievement in Film Editing, Edgardo "Boy" Vinarao's Diskarte (Maverick Films)-a fast-paced action film-is a sprawling indictment of the country in the pits. It postulates that chaos and disorder in the land persist with a useless bureaucracy overrun by thieves and scalawags. Diskarte is alright a cops-and-robbers story. But the line dividing the good guys from the bad guys is gray. The hero himself is not a good and honest cop. There are good and honest
cops but they are not the stereotype of the good and honest cop. Meanwhile, the robbers are hoodlums in uniform, law enforcers dabbling in all illegal activities and high police officials who as private people are interesting and colorful in their own right. One is a doting father to a little girl completely clueless of the evil deeds of the man who sired her. Another gets loose bowels when
cowering in fear. Then there is a police asset who is gay. A disadvantaged senior citizen who makes a living as a scavenger and loves listening to opera music as a hobby would play the Good Samaritan to the aggrieved protagonist in a most poignant enactment of commiseration and solidarity. Joining the fray are two
contrasting sisters both engaged in the sex trade and would be entangled in the crossfire between warring camps of corrupt police.
Francis "Jun" Posadas' Itlog (Seiko Films) seeks to recast the patriarchal system and strip it of its pretensions for benevolence as well as its illusions of omnipotence and invincibility. The film engagingly interweaves the individual histories of five people-a daughter forced into marriage to pay the debt of her late father; an egg farm's kindhearted patriarch married to her; a prodigal son with film ambition; a reforming ex-con who would serve as surrogate son to
the abandoned father and a scheming screen starlet bent on reconciling the feuding father and son with motives not exactly altruistic. A bonus attraction is the appearance of a homecoming japayuki to act as some oracle that would lend the voice of wisdom and foresee the denouement of one household's tragic fall.
Uro Q. de la Cruz' Buko Pandan (World Arts Cinema) is very much a tale of female empowerment masquerading as a skinflick that appears, on the surface, to capitalize on the naked female body and some steamy sex to generate fast bucks at the tills. In truth, it shows the clear road to retribution for victimized and violated women away from what conventional moralizing dictates and the penal code stipulates.
One last film has to be added to YCC's short list of gems for the year. Although not cited in the best film category, Yam Laranas' Ikaw Lamang, Hanggang Ngayon (Viva Entertainment-winner of Best Achievement in Cinematography and Visual Design) is to be celebrated for casting a cinematic eye at some of Manila's old landmarks to serve as backdrop for the bittersweet affair of a pair of vacillating lovers. It offers quite a reprieve and is a rare departure from the
usual inane and antiseptic romance pics drenching local screens all year.
A handful of gems
Nonoy Lauzon
FOR Film Year 2002, the Film Desk of the Young Critics Circle reviewed a total of 94 films that comprised the full output of local cinema in the given period. It was no less a daunting task. Dying it may seem, Philippine cinema remains one of the most prolific motion picture industries in the world. Sadly, what it delivers in quantity, it cannot in quality. Out of scores of homegrown productions last year, YCC found just a handful that could be considered meritorious and deserving of the critics' honors.
The local film industry has patents for plenty hoaxes and they cloud the truthful pursuit for recognizing cinematic excellence. Luckily in its incessant commitment to foster an alternative and emergent articulation of the practice of criticism, YCC-never falling prey-is not to be duped. For the 13th Annual Circle Citations for Distinguished Achievement in Film, YCC had to overturn the decisions of two festival juries and uphold the integrity of certain films
whose worth the industry with its twisted standards and through its coterie of apologists and paid hacks would readily dismiss.
Foremost of the films YCC holds in high regard is Chito S. Roño's Dekada '70 (Star Cinema)-adjudged Best Film of the Year. As any work of art, the film is not perfect. But its tale of a plain housewife's political and social awakening is not to be resisted. It came at a time when the industry mainstream had rendered out of vogue the making of films of this sort-the better to distort the moviegoing
public's notion of good films and manipulate them into patronizing exclusively mediocre and seemingly innocuous fare instead. Apparently, the merchants of the celluloid are too consumed in self-preservation that they wouldn't want the status quo shaken and the order of things altered even a bit. They are afraid of truly good films as these have power to transform society simply by illuminating
reality and providing enlightenment to the viewing throng. For them, some things in the past are best forgotten. When certain films lead viewers to a remembrance of things that they should rather forget in keeping with the designs of the powers-that-be, it's bad for business and there is cause for alarm.
From the screenplay of Lualhati Bautista based on her Palanca award-winning novel, Dekada '70 is one of those films that are to be dreaded and its critical and popular rejection is one of those elaborate schemes that have to be hatched if the existing order of things had to prevail. In the interest of the status quo, the film has to be shunned, subdued and suppressed. As it enjoins audiences to
revisit the horrible episode in the country's past, it opens a can of worms that could spell disaster for the current state of affairs and jeopardize in effect the high stakes waged by the present dispensation's very overlords.
In this sense, the ultimate triumph of Dekada '70 lies not so much in recounting the horrors of Martial Law but in taking into account how one can embrace social change and follow the path towards struggle. This is dramatized in the metaphorical odyssey taken by the film's central figure, a wife and mother named Amanda Bartolome. At first, she would think that pleasing her husband and raising her five boys are all that matters in life. When monstrosities entailed by the turbulent times would prove otherwise, she would come to realize that to be a dutiful wife and loving mother means nothing amidst the
social landscape without the wheels of justice, suffused with the spilt blood of oppression and severely debilitated by rampant poverty. The abiding wife and caring mother would then stop just tending to her home to reach out to the larger society that she would find in need too of her cradling. The symbolic trek Amanda would set out to embark on could nevertheless be hers alone. It must also be the inspiring odyssey involving countless others that audiences may
do well to emulate for the valor and resolve they exemplify in taking up a cause. Dekada '70 pays homage to them as well. The film is also recognized for Best Screenplay, Best Achievement in Sound which includes music and Best Performance by the mother-and-son team of Vilma Santos and Piolo Pascual.
In addition to Dekada '70, YCC also honors more titles that encompass a gamut of fulfilled cinematic possibilities. They complete YCC's roster of top films for the year. Gil M. Portes' Mga Munting Tinig (Teamwork Productions; Maverick Films; CAP Philippines)-to the shallow mind-is a poor ersatz film with a lofty dream to break into the world market. But lost on its jaded detractors is the supreme value of the film in igniting the flames of idealism embodied by the
character of a remote barrio's novice teacher who shall exhaust all means for her deprived wards to gain a chance in life. Music would be the key to their salvation and it would be compellingly demonstrated how the pursuit of art could prod hapless innocents to surpass Third World squalor.
Winner of Best Achievement in Film Editing, Edgardo "Boy" Vinarao's Diskarte (Maverick Films)-a fast-paced action film-is a sprawling indictment of the country in the pits. It postulates that chaos and disorder in the land persist with a useless bureaucracy overrun by thieves and scalawags. Diskarte is alright a cops-and-robbers story. But the line dividing the good guys from the bad guys is gray. The hero himself is not a good and honest cop. There are good and honest
cops but they are not the stereotype of the good and honest cop. Meanwhile, the robbers are hoodlums in uniform, law enforcers dabbling in all illegal activities and high police officials who as private people are interesting and colorful in their own right. One is a doting father to a little girl completely clueless of the evil deeds of the man who sired her. Another gets loose bowels when
cowering in fear. Then there is a police asset who is gay. A disadvantaged senior citizen who makes a living as a scavenger and loves listening to opera music as a hobby would play the Good Samaritan to the aggrieved protagonist in a most poignant enactment of commiseration and solidarity. Joining the fray are two
contrasting sisters both engaged in the sex trade and would be entangled in the crossfire between warring camps of corrupt police.
Francis "Jun" Posadas' Itlog (Seiko Films) seeks to recast the patriarchal system and strip it of its pretensions for benevolence as well as its illusions of omnipotence and invincibility. The film engagingly interweaves the individual histories of five people-a daughter forced into marriage to pay the debt of her late father; an egg farm's kindhearted patriarch married to her; a prodigal son with film ambition; a reforming ex-con who would serve as surrogate son to
the abandoned father and a scheming screen starlet bent on reconciling the feuding father and son with motives not exactly altruistic. A bonus attraction is the appearance of a homecoming japayuki to act as some oracle that would lend the voice of wisdom and foresee the denouement of one household's tragic fall.
Uro Q. de la Cruz' Buko Pandan (World Arts Cinema) is very much a tale of female empowerment masquerading as a skinflick that appears, on the surface, to capitalize on the naked female body and some steamy sex to generate fast bucks at the tills. In truth, it shows the clear road to retribution for victimized and violated women away from what conventional moralizing dictates and the penal code stipulates.
One last film has to be added to YCC's short list of gems for the year. Although not cited in the best film category, Yam Laranas' Ikaw Lamang, Hanggang Ngayon (Viva Entertainment-winner of Best Achievement in Cinematography and Visual Design) is to be celebrated for casting a cinematic eye at some of Manila's old landmarks to serve as backdrop for the bittersweet affair of a pair of vacillating lovers. It offers quite a reprieve and is a rare departure from the
usual inane and antiseptic romance pics drenching local screens all year.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
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