Manila Kingpin: The Asiong Salonga Story

Asiong in action.

This might as well be the first time that I'm reviewing a film without a director. Of course it was, during production, helmed by veteran film director Tikoy Aguiluz, whose film "Segurista" I truly admire. But because of some post-production politics and creative clashes between him and the producers, Aguiluz's name, by his own request, was removed from the posters and the film itself, leaving screenwriters Roy Iglesias and Rey Ventura as the only people left at the top of the creative hierarchy.

"Manila Kingpin: The Asiong Salonga Story" was, above all, branded as a resurrection of sorts for the very dead action genre of the local film scene: an alternative cinematic reality reigned over by the likes of Lito Lapid, Rudy Fernandez, FPJ, and lots and lots of blazing machismo. It was truly a haven of myth-making capable of solidifying silver screen stars such as Ramon Revilla Sr. as an amulet-empowered 'crime does not pay' icon and Paquito Diaz as villainy and ruthlessness personified. This is the powerful formula only action movies have the strength and endurance to carry on for more than 40 years or so without looking, even at the slightest bit, exhausted. And in this film's case, it was that same, enduring formula that was utilized by George Estregan Jr. (or E.R. Ejercito) and company to serve us thirsty fans a tribute to the genre's lore and also a blood-drenched gangster tale that we can call our own.

Namely, some of the film's strengths are its exquisite cinematography and set design, which have genuinely evoked the 50's period with its nostalgic, often times claustrophobic and grayish visual treatment. Take note, 'evoked', not 'replicated'. If replication is the film's real intent, then they should have gone braver and filmed it in full color. But with its purpose being to merely create a distinct visual 'feel' completely free to express its own artistic liberties rather than to completely emulate a bygone era to the teeth, "Manila Kingpin: The Asiong Salonga Story" succeeded.

But although the film has meritoriously upheld its own visually, it has fallen short substantially. The film suffered in severe one-dimensionality in terms of characterization, with George Estregan Jr., most known for merely playing loud-mouthed, smoker-voiced supervillains such as Dr. Zyke in "Batang Z" and Ivan in Andrew E.'s "Extranghero", although showing relative depth and previously unseen dramatic intensity in his performance as the savage but gold-hearted titular crime boss, obviously looked awkward at times as he makes most out of the stereotypically-written lead role. While character actors like the ever so psychotic John Regala and the subtle Ronnie Lazaro seem to enjoy in their respective characters' caricature-like brutality, the always reliable Phillip Salvador suffered in his role's tiring and predictable 'although my brother's a hardened criminal I still love him' mentality as Asiong's older cop sibling.

Ping Medina, one of the best young actors working today, was underused in an underdeveloped character, and so were Yul Servo and Ketchup Eusebio. Though I can't say the same for Baron Geisler's, which fueled and enforced the film's theme of betrayal and split loyalty with his dimensioned, though predictable Judas-like character to Estregan's Jesus Christ. With Geisler and his mocking smiles and stares like that of a manipulative schemer, you can clearly read within his character that it's just a matter of time before he goes all Robert Ford to Asiong's Jesse James behind.

True, "Manila Kingpin: The Asiong Salonga Story" may have, in certain ways, hopefully reverberated the action genre with the urgency of its ambition, thanks to George Estregan Jr. and all the people involved. But I think that in time, this film will and should be more remembered as a pioneering crime film that just happened to have one action scene and two or three kissing scenes (!) more than the usual. And just when I'm merely recovering from a "Mad World" LSS hangover, here comes this film complete with its own instrumental rendition of the said song which puts a preachy, 'this is what you should feel' vibe to an otherwise well-executed, "City of God"-esque bullet ballet of a climax.

Now, despite of my scrutiny of the film no one really asked for, I truly enjoyed watching the film for what it is: A textbook action/crime opera. And as the film's credits roll and as the lights in the theater were switched back on, I can see the geriatric majority of the audience; a bittersweet sight that made me think of one thing: "These are the fans that you've left behind, action genre!" Fans that, for so many years, have settled for those pixelated 16 in 1 Robin Padilla DVDs and Cinema One reruns to compensate for the lack, or even the complete absence, of new, locally-produced action pictures.

Now, with not much left to say, I have appreciated this version more than I thought I would, but I'm still particular of the fact that in the long run and in the overall definition of what cinema is all about, the director's vision matters more than all the commercial-minded producers' combined. Now, can we have the Tikoy Aguiluz cut, please?

FINAL RATING

Oro, Plata, Mata (Peque Gallaga)

Ablaze.

A second viewing.

"Oro, Plata, Mata" can easily be accused of being too explicit and overly indulgent on Peque Gallaga's part, but it can't be doubted that this film puts forth a visually harrowing perspective that does not merely settle on pacifist commentaries or wartime tears. Sometimes, just like how Gallaga has presented his allegorical "Scorpio Nights", films must not wait in some dark corner in hopes that someone may clumsily pick them up out of curiosity. They must be assertive with their audience regarding whatever they want to show, and "Oro, Plata, Mata" succeeded to do just that, with the occasional 'shock' factor on the side.

Just like "Batch '81", which suddenly begins with a musical score that mirrors the sounds of a circus fun fair, this film also opened with a music that seems out of place. A mixture of harmlessness and sardonic sarcasm, the music plays as if it's poking fun of its mannered bourgeoisie characters, Bunuel-style. The film's opening credits greet us with assortment of characters moving in 'slow-motion' as they fix their hairs and smoke tobaccos. Going along with these scenes is this sinister feel that wraps them that seem to suggest that "Oro, Plata, Mata" is about decadence as it is about the entrails of war, if not more.

And as the film furthers its linear yet episodic narrative descent into the grave unknowns of war, it unfolds an unsettling portrait of how even the most mannered of people may easily concede to the angst-ridden sexual temptations that root out from living in ennui. But Gallaga, who shows his mastery of visual composition and a hint of exploitation (I believe that the film still would have worked even with two to three sex/nude scenes less), backed by Jose Javier Reyes' screenplay, extends the fact that the film's characters' emotional and carnal transformations weren't human deconstructions, but a simple case of skeletons in the closet. It's right with them all along.

Joel Torre, his first screen role, is remarkably effective as the frail Miguel, whose psychological metamorphosis from a mama's boy to a hardened killer is every bit believable. While an array of portrayals by Sandy Andolong, Lisa Lorena and Maneul Ojeda balances the film with subtlety, the film is made literally alive amid the film's more dragging moments by commanding performances from Lorli Villanueva and especially Mitch Valdez (credited as Maya Valdes in the film) as the calculating 'doktora', whose sexual promiscuity inspires the innocent Trining (Cherie Gil) to pursue and quench the thirsts of the flesh with Hermes (the vastly underrated Ronnie Lazaro), a Guerrilla rendered mute by the war.

There's no question about "Oro, Plata, Mata's" distinct influence across Philippine cinema. Whether it's the scope, the family-centered narrative or the violence, this film attracted 'greatness' for itself but does not brag about it. Never did I feel, all throughout its more than 3 hours of running time, that the film relished in self-importance. Self-indulgent, yes, there were specific scenes which were more a showcase of great cinematography and production design than sharp needles to stitch the whole film together. But still, "Oro, Plata, Mata" is nonetheless a lasting Filipino film that tackled the horrors, the deep wounds and the indelible scars of the Second World War unlike any other of its kind.

In the long run (quite literally for its length), it's never an overly pacifist film. Although there's this ambiguous 'diwata' character played by Kuh Ledesma that may subjectively symbolize the tarnished state of our 'Inang Bayan' (Mother Land) during the onset of war, the film is more about the isolated effect of violence and sexual immorality upon two families than it is a cinematic anti-war essay. Hell, we only see one Japanese soldier in the entirety of the film.

"Oro, Plata, Mata" is never concerned about the sentiments against foreign oppression that comes from islands away. With its blood-drenched message, the film is a brutal depiction of how at chaotic times, barbarism and decay gush out from nowhere else but within one's own backyard.

FINAL RATING