Don Jon (Joseph Gordon-Levitt)

Watch, wipe, repeat.

For anyone at least over 15, "Don Jon" is, by itself, reason enough to get all jealous over Joseph Gordon-Levitt and the strings he can pull over at Hollywood. Only in his early thirties and fresh from his breakout roles in a slew of highly successful films ("Inception", "Looper", "The Dark Knight Rises"), Gordon-Levitt now tries his hands on directing. But unlike his contemporary James Franco, whose dilettante self seems content in directing artsy films that perhaps no one would be able (or even want) to see, "Don Jon" has enough mainstream appeal to easily catapult Gordon-Levitt's potential as a filmmaker immediately into the forefronts of the movie industry. "Why is that?" You may ask. Well, if you're not familiar at all with "Don Jon", do yourself a favor and look it up on IMDb, read its plot, and then skim through its cast. Done? A malicious grin is definitely in order.  

With its title being a Caucasian iteration of everyone's favorite moniker of sleazy womanizers, "Don Jon" is a film about a man addicted to porn and his relationship with a blonde bombshell he met in a bar, played by none other than Scarlett Johansson. "Don Jon", for the narrow-minded folks, may be deemed as nothing but an opportunistic vanity project on Levitt's part. Surely, with its sexually-charged tone and crucial casting of Johansson in a prominent role, this film may also make some people raise their eyebrows and others shake their heads both in admiration and utter disbelief. "A film about a porn addict with Scarlett Johansson cast as his sexy girlfriend." Honest to goodness, that's almost every heterosexual man's dream film project. On the surface, yes, "Don Jon" may seem like Joseph Gordon-Levitt's ultimate wet dream realized on film. But in all seriousness, if ever "Don Jon" has proven anything, then it is the fact that Gordon-Levitt, as a filmmaker, definitely has the genuine chops, and also the balls.

Story-wise, the film is not the kind that you would expect to blow you away, as it is a bit laid-back in its narrative flow and relatively light in execution. Quite simply, though "Don Jon" is mounted just like your typical rom-com film, it excels on how it depicts the so-called 'rush' of porn addiction in a series of repetitively kinetic camerawork that will rival the aesthetics of the likes of Danny Boyle and even Edgar Wright. "There's more to life than a happy ending." The film's tagline safely suggests. For me, the perfect tagline for the film, judging on how modernized its take is on the apathetic transience of libido, is "Watch, Wipe, Repeat." After all, the film is all about man's sexual relationship with technology, so what better way to emphasize this fact than with a not so-emotional and highly detached tagline such as that? Oh jeez, I'm already thinking out loud.

To get back on track, let's check on the film's characters. Gordon-Levitt's Don Jon, who frighteningly looks just like a "Jersey Shore" staple, is made to look grotesque and peculiar and highly detached from reality despite the fact that most men often do what he does, and that his problem with porn has already been tackled more believably in Steve McQueen's masterful "Shame". As a character, Don Jon, an Italian-American bartender and a devout churchgoer, is easy to empathize with on paper because of Joseph Gordon-Levitt's effortless wit and also simply because of pretty obvious reasons. But perhaps due to how heavily caricaturized Don Jon is (his ripped musculature, freakish tan, and perfectly-gelled hair), there seems to be a slight disconnect between the character and us, the audience, who should be able to easily identify with him. Don Jon, I guess, is a tad too larger-than life for the film. 

Don Jon's parents in the film, on the other hand, though entertainingly played by both Tony Danza and Glenne Headly, are sadly too similar, characterization-wise, to Anjelica Huston and Ben Gazzara's turn in "Buffalo '66", from their dysfunctions as a couple up to their affinity towards football. Scarlett Johansson's character is also finely portrayed, what with her surprisingly apt accent. But sadly, the writing seems too weak to back the on-screen performance. Personally, it's Julianne Moore who has given the best performance in the film. Playing a middle-aged night student who has captured Jon's fickle attention, her line deliveries, which are oftentimes whisper-like and prosaic, bode well with her broken character.

In all fairness, the screenplay has numerous bright spots, such as the climactic scene between Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Julianne Moore, and some really fun moments (the confession scenes come to mind). But overall, it may just need 10 more pages or so to further flesh out the characters. If not for the film's surprisingly poignant final sequence, "Don Jon" would have been less memorable than it actually is. 

Ultimately, looking past all of the film's flaws, "Don Jon" is actually a fun little portrait of a man's unhealthy addiction to internet smut, and a simple yet potent eye-opener regarding the delicate line that separates fucking from making love. After watching "Don Jon", you will realize that there's indeed a BIG difference between the two, and I'm not talking about sizes or anything, you dirty-minded fellow you.

FINAL RATING

Last Supper No. 3 (Veronica Velasco)

film poster

If fact truly is stranger than fiction, then “Las Supper No. 3” is a potent representation of such claim. It is a strangely relentless carnival of a film that holds the absurdist nature of life in quite a different way that the film’s narrative distortion, in its entirety, may present an exaggeratedly cavernous view of happenstance troubles but, in the end, shows the painfully funny idea that it just isn’t any farther from hard reality.

On one side, the film, directed by Veronica Velasco with comic gusto teetering on a desperate edge, is a fine fly on the wall-like exploration of the meticulousness of commercial productions. The painstakingly picture-perfect attempts in properly putting a toothpaste on a toothbrush, in choosing what t-shirt stain (for detergent products) would be ideal for both color and black and white televisions, and less significantly, in screening what Last Supper article would properly fit the wall of a corned beef commercial’s set.

And yet, ironically, it is from the latter that the film picks up the dirt and drives it head-on with legal bureaucracy, a hint of religion and pure hysteria. In the story, out of all the Last Supers that were screened, ranging from wooden depictions to tasseled ones, the one labeled as ‘Last Supper no. 1’ was ultimately chosen. But then apparently, a top frontrunner codenamed ‘Last Supper no. 3’ mysteriously and suddenly went missing. Sure, no problem, the production’s Assistant Designer named Wilson Nanawa would just pay the owners a fair sum of money. But there’s a catch: the owners are asking for a whopping 25,000 bucks. Initially, both parties agreed to a concessionary amount, but with matters unexplained like an unexpectedly bitter twist of fate, the affair eventually reaches the hall of justice, for no apparent reasons aside from the pure absurdity of it all, in a legal trial for the ages (*cough*).

From this point on, with simple solutions to resolve the situation thrown out of the window and any chances for meeting halfway dissolved into utter oblivion, the film then transforms from being a satire of commercial productions into a mishap-filled adventure of our kind-hearted and gullible protagonist, Wilson, that, in some ways, microcosmically resembles Jesus’ larger than life sacrifice in Jerusalem.

For a film filled with strong cameos by the likes of Ricky Davao, Liza Lorena, director Mark Meily, and particularly the great Maricel Soriano in a solid part and is supported by talented character actors such as Jojit Lorenzo (playing the advantageous ‘Last Supper no. 3’ owner, Gareth), comic impresario Beverly Salviejo in the role of Gareth’s mother and JM de Guzman as Wilson’s co-worker Andoy (who was also sued by Gareth for physical injuries), it is an impressive thing to see that the lead actor, Joey Paras who played Wilson Nanawa, never succumbed to pressure and never surrendered the spotlight to the immense talent that surrounds him, who was still able to come up with the best performance in the film.

Mixing sympathy for his characters’ almost surrealistic predicament and empathy for the ‘what if’ idea of letting us, the audience, think within Wilson’s shoes, Joey Paras capably internalized his character without going pretty much overboard, resulting with him performing effortlessly as the pitiful main character.

With an opening credits that evokes (at least for me) the one in “Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos” in a subtle sleight of parody (with its biblical imagery and hilariously-toned original song) and a final scene that is reminiscent of the legendary one in “Raiders of the Lost Ark”, the film, as suggested by the aforementioned films, is part drama and part adventure that is invariably peppered with pleasurable amounts of comedy that strongly hold it all together in a tight screwball that pokes fun on fate and the craziness of life, goes on to watch Wilson’s life unravel in all the wrong places, and laughs at the senseless hilarity of it all. But knowing that the Last Supper no. 3 is, until now, still missing ever since the very creation of the wretched corned beef commercial, it still leaves an undeniably disturbing afterthought as to how such a trivial object can make up such a world of trouble.

FINAL RATING

50/50 (Jonathan Levine)

The big shave.

Echoing its very title, which tells of the survival rate of people suffering from the spinal cancer that Joseph Gordon-Levitt's character has contracted in the film, "50/50", at the same breath, equally focuses both on despair and optimism as it pushes its way to highlight the often tackled issue of mortality.

Almost single-handedly carried by Joseph Gordon-Levitt's simple yet very effective performance as the cancer-stricken Adam Lerner, the film, directed by Jonathan Levine and written by Will Reiser (which I found out to be Seth Rogen's real-life friend who was diagnosed with cancer in his early 20s), is a bittersweet eye-opener regarding the reality of cancer patients that stare death at its very eyes on an everyday basis, while making the often uttered and always superficially imposed phrase 'live like you're dying' literally a thing of urgency. But what's wonderful with this film is how it has gravely wrapped its narrative around the inescapable reality of being diagnosed with cancer yet never completely succumbed to what's bleak and hopeless.

"50/50", fully advertised as a buddy dramedy of sorts between Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen, surprisingly does not capitalize on the very mere idea of these two starring in a film. Hell, even the tagline teasingly said so ("It takes a pair to beat the odds"). While both of them had their share of poignant moments together, the film's emotional drive is not concentrated to just both of them but is instead finely rationed among its other characters, namely Adam's mother, played by Anjelica Huston, his rookie therapist, played by Anna Kendrick, and his artist girlfriend, played by Bryce Dallas Howard.

As I'm watching the film, I initially thought that Seth Rogen's character Kyle, Adam's best pal, was integrated into the film merely for some sideshow comedy and nothing more, which entails the fact that maybe, the chemistry between Gordon-Levitt and Rogen may end up humorously great but dramatically lacking.

But then I realized that having Rogen and his usual improvisational self in the film made him a potent antidote to counter the film's potential brushes with dramatic clichés. Making him all too serious and suddenly turn him all too teary-eyed at Gordon Levitt's pitiful character can be a bit awkward and is a complete departure from what made Seth Rogen popular in the first place. Fitting enough, Rogen's comic performance made the film more naturally dramatic and his character's relationship with the main character Adam feel more genuine.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt, a truly versatile actor who can play a lovestruck average Joe on one film, transform into a convincingly stern, gravity-defying action hero on another while still skillful enough to turn all psychotic and murderous on the next, embraced subtlety in this film, portraying the different psychological phases of a cancer patient, the various physical pains and the seemingly cold acceptance of the inevitable with a great display of bravery but also of an evident 'Why Me?' frustration.

Although "50/50" centers at the harsh reality of cancer, it has prevented itself to be completely overwhelmed by hodge-podge sentimentalism and preachy utterances about hope and survival that make films of this type all too fleeting. Instead, with this change of tone, it has given the film a cleaner and infinitely more honest emotional atmosphere.

"50/50" is relatively unique in its dramatic and comic effortlessness as it ironically tackles a laborious, life-threatening illness. And while we may all have immediately foreseen the sad inevitability of Adam Lerner's fate, there's still an unconsciously lingering thought, with the film successfully equalizing optimism and the otherwise, that it may just be a boulder-like obstacle that can certainly be endured.

'Keeping up with the battle' or 'dying without a fight'; 'family and faith' or 'to concede and surrender'. "50/50" takes these absolutes and laid it into the open. The film maintains the fact that the act of 'fighting' or 'giving-up' does not just apply to battling cancer, but also to life in general. And that cancer, although it has prematurely claimed countless lives, is not always an end but sometimes just a phase. "50/50" surely holds on to that claim for a reason.

FINAL RATING

Midnight in Paris (Woody Allen)

A stroll.

Woody Allen, which we all know to be a truly psychological and philosophical filmmaker as well as a humorously cerebral director, an aspect of his being that collects much admirers as well as some haters, completely shines through in yet again a film of unique charm, intelligence, wit and imagination set in a city where beauty and mystique converges into one: Paris.

Although it stars Owen Wilson (alongside impressive supporting performances by Michael Sheen, Rachel McAdams and Marion Cotillard among others) as Gil, a character who seemingly treats his flirtation with the idea of premature infidelity (his character is just about to be married) merely as an exercise in curiosity by way of an unexpected trip into his 'Golden Age' subconscious (in 1920's Paris where he met countless demigods of art and literature), which as a result came out to be quite harmless and at the same time maintained naivete in its depiction of a brief psycho-sexual adventurism, the character still could have been played by a younger Woody Allen. Often times, I can even see Owen Wilson channeling Allen himself.

I believe that although this film could have been done in Woody Allen's cinematic heydays (maybe in mid-70's to early 80's) and still be as effective as it was today, "Midnight in Paris" nevertheless still stimulated my hidden cravings for new ideas and moved me with its gentle approach regarding the ideas of artistic confusion, romantic crossroads and the subsequent individual growth by way of traveling into a subjectively ideal past.

In the hands of a purely narrative-driven filmmaker, "Midnight in Paris" could have been a try-hard romantic/fantasy film with the hero torn between living his love and life in the present and reliving a past he quickly learns to love. But just like, say, Harold Ramis' "Groundhog Day", this film is too busy with its brilliant articulation of its fresh idea that tackles the paradox of insecurity, shown here in the form of "The Golden Age" mentality, which beholds the idea that it's a human tendency to hope, reminisce and visualize for a more ideal moment in time where everything's akin to an artistic and literary utopia, that the film isn't shallow enough to conceptualize a too far-fetched an explanation as to why Owen Wilson's character travels back into his personal 'Golden Age' every midnight.

For Allen, it's the characters that speak for the film itself. All we know, Owen Wilson's character is too exhausted with the overly urban and inch-deep intellectual exercises of working as a movie scriptwriter that he dares to internally lash out. All we know, he wants 1920's Paris, write pure novel, and walk in the rain more than anything else. Woody Allen injected these subtle characteristics on the Owen Wilson character to serve as simple catalysts for the film's turn of events and nothing more. No flashy time-travel nonsense, no unnecessary plot devices and no silly folklorian justifications as to why these historical jumps were possible.

Instead, the film's seemingly esoteric tone puts itself into a separate plain of romanticized existence; an alternative landscape where impenetrable icons like Dali, Picasso, Hemingway and Fitzgerald adhere into a single route of interconnected existence, where one may bump into the other, or where a man may travel back in time, develop romance with a charming lady, travel back into the present the next night and then see a memoir with his name mentioned all over the pages in romantic adoration, penned by the very same lady almost 90 years ago.

It is things like these, although devoid of any logical explanations, that can really put a genuine smile into your face. And it is films like "Midnight in Paris" that can really restore your faith in the hidden capabilities and the wonderful complexities that the romantic comedy genre can offer and conceive. I can only thank Woody Allen for that.

FINAL RATING

All About My Mother (Pedro Almodovar)

Cecilia Roth as Manuela.

With the brilliant "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown" being the Pedro Almodovar film I've watched prior to this, his exploration of the unparalleled emotional strength of women, at least in my self-chronology, continues on with "All About My Mother", a film that lightly caresses your heart with its poignancy but also puts into humorous situations after another the subtle absurdity of life. Although it's Almodovar's witty screenplay that is the film's beating heart, it's the sheer talent of its cast that has fueled it with pure and unbridled energy.

Performances by Cecilia Roth, who played the main character Manuela, a single-parent hardened by the terrible highs and lows of life, Marisa Paredes as the stage actress Huma Rojo, Penelope Cruz who contrasts all the other performances with her subdued turn as Sister Rosa, and especially Antonia San Juan's colorful portrayal of the character Agrado (the best performance in the film), a person whose socially unacceptable transsexualism never hindered her from being an optimistic representation of a hard-living modern woman, sweeten the screen with a unique vigor for life.

The film's title, "All About My Mother", when you look at how the narrative has unveiled itself, does not fully suggest that the film is indeed purely about Manuela's individual exploits as she searches on to locate her son's father and as she takes care of numerous colorful characters. With the use of the possessive pronoun 'My', which of course pertains to Manuela's son Esteban, who before dying in a tragic car accident wishes to know who his father is and who, after death, may have continued to look down upon her mother as she copes up with his death, with her quest and with life itself, it suggests that the story is spiritually progressing through Esteban's birthright to know his father. So the film, in essence, does not merely get its life force from Manuela alone, but also from the memory of Esteban's final wish.

"All About My Mother" is, in context, a humanist adventure fueled by a two-sided notion for a tribute: One given by the already omniscient Esteban in an underlying manner, who flowers up her mother's endeavors by means of his prose taken from his diary, and one by Manuela herself as she tries to keep the fire burning in Esteban's torch of memory by way of fulfilling his dying wish: To find his father.

Unlike the later "Goodbye, Lenin!", a film from which we rarely see the character of the mother but infinitely more of her son as he desperately find ways to fend off any shock or surprises that may worsen her health, "All About My Mother" views this idea of a parent-child relationship in an opposite way by championing the concept of a mother's love to her son (instead of the other way around), but in an equally unconditional light.

In the film's entirety, its urgency is more inclined towards the dramatic rather than the comic. Of course, the spontaneity of the more humorous moments adds to the film's effective tonal shifts from colorful to gray and vice versa, but "All About My Mother" is infinitely more important to be absorbed as a drama that articulates the emotional context of promises, mistakes and reconciliations rather than as a comedy of blunders, innuendos and homosexuality. Nonetheless, the film works in either way.

But what has slightly put me off about the film, on the other hand, is its running time. Pedro Almodovar greeted our senses with exuberant, highly original characters yet ends the film with suddenness. It's one thing for a film to end and for us to want more, but to ask for more plainly because something lacks is another. I don't know what I've felt between the two when the film has ended, but I surely would have loved the film more if it would have been a bit longer, and I don't care if the conflict is already resolved. Well, on second thought, maybe it's just delusion.

FINAL RATING

Tower Heist (Brett Ratner)

Comic actors Ben Stiller and Eddie Murphy star in "Tower Heist".

With a half-engine steam of energy seemingly got from Danny Ocean's capers and John Mcclane's shoeless skyscraper escapades coupled with a fine comic establishment by way of the 'recruitment for a mission' treatment, "Tower Heist", though pure disposable fun and nothing more, is truly well worth your time.

Ben Stiller, with his usual gentleman approach to humor, is the sober center of the whole film while Eddie Murphy, in his pure ghetto ass glory, serves as the film's riotous catalyst for its scattered, language-driven comedy. With director Brett Ratner having successfully handled Chris Tucker's mouth in the "Rush Hour" films, there's no doubt that he can also pull it off with Eddie Murphy. Even more so that he has greatly incorporated considerably resonant dialogues into Murphy's character without going over-the-top.

With many actors in the film for the director and the writers to potentially play up a convincing chemistry, Ratner and company conjured up a nice balance among the chief players, with established actors like Casey Affleck and Matthew Broderick having their respective moments, while budding ones like Gabourey Sidibe and Michael Peña stealing scenes of their own. For some, "Tower Heist" may seem a bit too formalistic in its execution of a comic caper. Though that and a slight lack of climactic ingenuity may very well be considered as hindrances for it to achieve a certain uniqueness that will separate it from other films of its kind, its 'no detours' take on its narrative makes it all the more enjoyable and easier to take that at least, though stealing a car from a secured skyscraper isn't really what 'reality' suggests either, creates a vulnerably believable atmosphere where thieves may get caught anytime and that plans can be half-baked as best. No twists to spice up the character dynamics, no plot distortions to sweeten up what's happening and no far-fetched surprises for us to surmise.

For once, it's truly refreshing to see a film dealing with a big-time caper without complexities that were there just for the sake of surprise. "Tower Heist" captures what is 'enjoyable' without any plot pretensions and instead sticks with what the story is all about and what the characters are going to do. I'm just having a problem with the fact that the main antagonist isn't that well-formed as a character and too hands-off with what he's accused to do (securities fraud, especially inflicted to his own employees) that I consider having a bunch of laid off guys (well, and a hardened thief) storm his expensive flat and break glasses and walls to steal a millions' worth of an article a bit of an overkill. He's just too corporate and too thinly-introduced as a villain to be remembered and be taken seriously. For a film to succeed, a memorable adversary must be of the essence.

Sadly for "Tower Heist", it had its 'James Bonds' in the guise of Stiller and company but seemingly neglected the notion for a more crucial 'Blofeld'. The film had numerous high points, especially Eddie Murphy's scenes of comic tirades that may seem generic and over-used but admittedly never gets old. But as the film heads towards a potentially explosive 'climax', the part where I often ultimately weigh off a writer's talent in how he/she can properly wrap all of a film's happenings into one final justification, "Tower Heist" exhausts itself on its own ideas that it reaches a climax where the words 'lukewarm' and 'underwhelming' are written all over.

Maybe the film being all too linear is both its strength and weakness. With that, "Tower Heist" surely isn't a perfect heist film nor is it an excellent comedy film. But at the end of the day, "Tower Heist" mixed both genres in moderate amounts and as a result, created a finish product that may not be ideal representatives of either but nonetheless a film that has the ability to deliver just the right dose of adequate escapism, but one that certainly won't last that long.

FINAL RATING

Zombadings 1: Patayin sa Shokot si Remington (Jade Castro)

Mart Escudero as the cursed Remington.

I have to give props to this film for being able to carry out a fairly original horror-fantasy narrative, and extending a considerably offense-free humor regarding the homosexual sub-culture. But aside from that, I highly commend Mart Escudero for his great performance as the titular character (and also for the film's highly talented cast that are also good sports) that is condemned to undergo a 'fairy' metamorphosis and then to die of 'shokot' (a gay lingo for 'fright', for the uninitiated). Although an indie film (and we all know how some indie films take themselves too seriously), "Zombadings" wallows in its own exuberant B-movie cheesiness, filled with awkward editing, a stupendous murder MacGuffin (the 'gay-dar'), a quiet town (as always), and of course, hordes of cross-dressing zombies. But what makes it different at the very least is the fact that although we have seen endless amounts of comic homosexuality on film, I think this is quite the first time that I've seen a film that have dealt with homosexuals as if they're a generalized, cohesive and interdependent group.

With those mind-numbing 'gay-lingos', is it really their official language that spans borders of place, age and degrees of homosexuality? What if Remington, cursed by Roderick Paulate's character to be gay when he grows up, transformed into a discreet, shy-type one in the sense of how other complex 'bromance' genre films came to portray them? And why are gays in this film so, so sensitive? Is it really possible for a naïve kid's tease of 'bakla, bakla!' to inspire a spirit-summoning wrath? But again, questions like these aren't really particularly relevant let alone valid for this type of movie. Films like this is in a universe of their own; a homage-littered and film-recalling one at that.

As Remington slowly turns into a full-fledged, not so subtle 'bading', I can't help but compare Ogie Diaz's polar opposite transformation into a sultry Via Veloso in "Hiling". The setting of Lucban, Quezon (The great ‘Buddy's’, slightly seen in the plaza scenes) reminds me in some ways of Flavio's Sto. Sepulcro, while the zombies and the campy feel seems like a depleted, musical sequence-less combination of "The Happiness of the Katakuris" and a subliminal manifestation of Dr. Frank-N-Furter.

So, maybe that's what lacks in "Zombadings" that could have really perfected its self-mocking tone: A musical sequence. Granted, there's a colorful dance sequence for Remington (I love how ‘Remington’ sounds like a classically macho rifle yet suggests the contextually otherwise), but this film really begs for a dance ensemble. Like the one in the masterful yet obscure B-movie "Dead & Breakfast", "Zombadings" is the kind of film that is tailor-made for such. If musical sequences served as a deconstructive ingredient for the satiric "Ang Babae sa Septic Tank", a musical scene or two could have really 'constructed' this film's true, green-blooded (staying with the homosexual tone) feel as an 'eklavu'-filled nonsensical ride, and truly proud of it.

"Zombadings" is pure guilty pleasure, and even though it's an indie film (some people think that watching more indie and less mainstream films is a bloody good investment for their intellectual self-image), it is a surprisingly hollow, shallow and an inch-deep offering from our local film industry's alternative realm. But what really caught me off-guard regarding this film is the fact that when it looked like it will be another one of those films where gays are once again reluctantly placed into a comic freak show heap to be randomly stoned with malicious, bordering dehumanizing jokes, it's a revelation that it has portrayed the homosexual community as a productive, hard-working bunch. A breath of fresh air in its ultimate message and, considering that it was advertised as an unrelentingly nauseating take on the concept of flesh-eating zombies and stereotyped image of cross-dressing gays, quite innocuous in its overall execution.

With the mainstream generating endless concepts, be it comedy, drama, romance or combination of all three, to pass as cinematic escapism, this is our indie industry's take on the idea: Not truly unforgettable, not that great, sometimes even fleeting in its own right. But at least, it's head over heels fresher than its comparably big-budgeted half-brothers (or half-'sistahs', perhaps?).

FINAL RATING

Annie Hall (Woody Allen)

Annie and Alvy, Diane and Woody; it's either way.

A second viewing.

Looking at the gallery of the previous Oscar winners for best picture, "Annie Hall" is definitely one of the most unorthodox and unglazed of all the films that have won the coveted prize. No majestic scope, no larger-than-life characters and no unreachable emotional core, but only an accessibly psychoanalytical and pop-intellectual presence of Woody Allen and his one-liners. Oh, and there's also the impeccable Diane Keaton as the titular character (whose real name is, well you've guessed it: Diane 'Annie' Hall) whose unassumingly fluctuating romance with Allen's character Alvy Singer founds the film's distinct postmodernist approach to the uber-complicated thing we all call 'love'.

Opening scenes meter what we can expect from a particular film's wholeness, be it an initial action scene or a non-linear middle scene pushed right into the beginning. We are introduced into "Annie Hall" with a monologue by Woody Allen, to which I'm not sure if he's uttering his entry comic speech as him being Alvy Singer, the other way around or a random combination of both. Either way, it's a subtle delivery that may not give the immediate feel of the film but definitely serves unto us the fragile wholeness of our neurotic main character. Why is he even talking to us in the first place? Is he really that lonely in his own reality of 'death' and isolated 'mental masturbation' that he wills himself to break the fourth wall?

Unlike other 'love' stories that preceded "Annie Hall" which starts with impossible chance encounters and ends with reconciliations, this film started somewhere where Alvy and Annie's romantic complications are at an all-time high but their emotional excitement for each other at an all-time low. Then like an unsure blend of fantasy and reality, the film then traces the pieces of how this 'nervous romance' came to be, or at least something like that. But with the tone of the film, which I believe can go on for days and days (the movie itself) even without an audience (this Woody Allen fellow really talks a lot), it's apt to say that the film really couldn't care less.

The ability to enact both a pessimistic existential viewpoint (according to Alvy, the 'horrible' and the 'miserable' are the only dividends of life) and an indifferent humor throughout yet hints on an underlying warmth beneath its 'foreskin'. This is one of the unique aspects of the film which certainly gave it the prestigious Oscar award. Right now, the said award is nothing but history, and although I think that "Annie Hall" hasn't aged that well, its portrayal of the distorted nuances of 'love' and 'contemporary existence' never did.

Written and directed by Woody Allen himself, I know that it's not quite right, chronologically and qualitatively speaking, that I was introduced into Allen's works (not counting "Vicky Cristina Barcelona") via "Annie Hall", a film that is widely considered to be the artistic zenith of his film career.

Now on the other hand, although I loved every moment of how Woody Allen and Diane Keaton's effortless chemistry pervades the screen through and through, their dialogue exchanges that seem like trivial conversations between two not-so-special souls and their consummate embraces and kisses amidst a backdrop of a surprisingly subdued New York City (photography by Gordon Willis), I really can't see myself as Alvy Singer.

Reckon how other 'love story' heroes mirror us one way or another? This is Woody Allen's difference. He can look as plain, thin and 'balding' as he is, but at least, his Alvy Singer is never completely us. A character that is molded more out of clumsy ubiquity (based on his sometimes alienating but seemingly all-knowing one-bit opinions and whatnot) than crazy human simplicity.

Granted, "Annie Hall" is a complex film of romantic proportions, but its heart lies within two key jokes uttered by Alvy himself: the humorous 'elderly women' analogy and the 'chicken brother' joke. Unnoticed as it may seem, these jokes weren't just meant to give a start and end transition for the whole film but a perceptive change for Alvy Singer himself. And like the autobiographical stage play that he has created near the end of the film, after all his musings about the futility of life and the importance of death, he simply wants his romance warm and eternalized, just like everyone else.

FINAL RATING

Ang Babae sa Septic Tank (Marlon Rivera)

On the way to Mr. Smithberger.

It might initially appear that this latest Cinemalaya triumph is particularly a well-tread filmic practice of traditional Philippine neorealism. But as it unravels in a fashion only a knowingly self-conscious deconstructive film can do, what it appeared to be was a creative blend of fantastical quasi-realism and full-fledged, jargon-filled nuances between the independent film scene and the commercial movie industry highlighted and fueled by Eugene Domingo’s eagerly commanding “Being John Malkovich-like” parody of herself.

But do not be misled, although Ms. Domingo and her much-hyped (thanks to well-played news columns by gossip writers) ‘plunge’ into the titular brown hole is the highlight of the film from a moviegoer’s viewpoint, “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” is essentially more about the film’s two visionary and free-spirited characters’ episodic adventures and whatnot. One a director (played by Kean Cipirano) and the other, a producer (JM De Guzman) who both display a certain raw energy typically steaming out from fresh grads, they are both struggling, amidst a cover of coffee-drinking comforts and ‘higher than anything else’ aspirations (they really much prefer Oscars than Cannes) to take a daringly unconventional independent film into fruition.

“Ang Babae sa Septic Tank”, directed by Marlon Rivera and written by Chris Martinez who clearly shows both his humorous outlook and comic disdain towards cinematic nuisances (such as product placements and the industry’s nauseating ‘diva’ culture), is not necessarily about the technicalities, logistics or the pressuring deadlines of making movies. Hell, there’s barely a scene involving movie crews, cameras and stuff. Unlike, say, Truffaut’s “Day for Night” which is purely about the ups and downs of such, this film is more about the endlessly playful landscapes of the mind going colorfully amok in the middle of a mind-boggling series of script conceptualizations and cerebral storyboarding. If countless ‘movies-within-movies’ dissect the fascinating days of principal photography, “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” is inclined towards the fragility of pre-production.

The posters, the cast, the performances, even the overall treatment of the film within the film (which is entitled “Walang-wala”). These were taken into the open. Through a surprisingly muted character played by Cai Cortez, “Walang-wala” shifts through the different parallel realities of ‘what if’ movie scenarios via her daydreams and nap musings. For a film of immense creativity that caters its refreshingly postmodernist feel with exuberance and humor for a wider audience, using a non-speaking role as a medium to transcend the lucidly brittle “Walang-wala” film ideas is inexcusably lazy. But considering that the film is overwhelmed by endless modern Filipino vernaculars coming from Kean Cipriano and JM de Guzman’s mouths sugar-coated as loudly superfluous tirades and ‘two-cent’ dialogues and the parody Eugene Domingo sounding, acting and demanding like the real-life Kris Aquino, it’s a balancing tonic to see someone whose mouth is completely shut.

Normal to many independent films, “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” is also filled with inspired performances from its cast, specifically Eugene Domingo as her alternative reality self, whose scene of her accepting the script from the two maverick filmmakers may have been mirroring her genuine real-life reaction in accepting this film. A true breath of fresh air for her considering the formulaic haze of mainstream movies that she has previously starred in. But the best performance in the film, which I never have foreseen even from the farthest of distance (maybe me being unaware of him helped) is the bit role of Arthur Poongbato, a satiric character that pokes fun of award-conscious indie directors, played effortlessly by Tad Tadioan.

But then again, “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” is never a full-blown satire either nor a distinct celebration of the independent film spirit. Though the film can be a small-dosed mix of both, it’s mainly a subtly unnerving little film that highlights the forgotten urban plight of the impoverished that merely serve as harrowing textures of countless filmmakers’ attempt for superficial cinematic social commentaries.

"Majestic". One of them mouthed in ecstasy as they see the layered kingdom of make-shift carton houses and rusty tin-roofed shanties visually asking to be filmed. But what the film turned out to be, ultimately, is a tragicomic exposition of the characters’ internal realization that not everything adheres with their own cinematic vision and artistic conviction. As the film heads into a gob-smacking head-on collision course with reality, there’s this brooding clarity.

And as we see Eugene Domingo visually transform into the titular woman that could have easily been the scene that can elicit the silliest of laughter in the whole film, there’s this great sense that it is more profoundly symbolic than it is immediately graphic. It stared at cinematic apathy strong-eyed while inside a pungent hole of sobering truth.

The film ended with audience’s heartily fading laughter and tender smiles. For that sole reason, the integration of “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” as a comedy vehicle into mainstream cinemas fully succeeded. But I hope the film left an impression that is much more than that.

FINAL RATING

Temptation Island (Chris Martinez)

A tributary notion.

Well, alright, I raised my rating to two full stars partly as a tribute to the original cult classic which this film has almost remade shot-by-shot and word-for-word. But remaking a film made in the 80's and completely retaining almost all of the dialogues that made the original so fascinating and endlessly intoxicating in its ability to capture, time capsule-style, the verbal pretenses of the bourgeoisie class (especially represented by the character Joshua in the original film) of the said era, I believe, is completely wrong.

Dialogues such as 'poor, proletariat, indigent people' should have stayed in the original and in it alone because as I hear it being uttered by John Lapus (who played Joshua in this remake), I can't help but feel the uneasiness of how comically oblique and strange the delivery is, especially coming from a supposedly homosexual character who dwells in the postmodern world of fashion where every terms and jargon are with added flash, sociopolitical words like 'communist' are the last things you may hear.

But despite of that, in a time where our local showbiz industry's range of gay performers are from undeserved hosts to stand-up comedians, John Lapus delivered the needed sense of villainy, vanity and lunacy, but he really never inherited the brash deadpan performance by Jonas Sebastian as Joshua in the original. But judging from John Lapus' gurgling, smoker voice, and his regular stint in television where he's regularly thrown in the air by a myriad of dancers while dancing off-sync with the music, you really can't expect subtlety from him.

For the bulk female cast, there really is nothing special going on except Marian Rivera, for the simple reason of her being the typical noisy comic actress that she is, Rufa Mae Quinto, whose stereotyped verbal tone is almost always effective, and Lovi Poe, mainly because her character is the most interesting of all. Solenn Heussaff (a real eye-candy, by the way) and Heart Evangelista, on the other hand, are all too unremarkable in their roles.

While the male roles, filled in with the typical 'pretty boys', suffered because of a crucial casting mistake (or a cast list typo?). Aljur Abrenica, who plays the role that Alfie Anido has played in the 1980 film, is characteristically far out of proportion and capacity with the character he plays (which is supposed to be a smart lad, me thinks). Newcomer Tom Rodriguez, who plays a lowly waiter in the film, should have scuffled for Mr. Abrenica's role and the latter should have been demoted in the waiter's shoes. Aljur's acting chops are just too 'wooden' ("Machete" pun, ha!) to show even a hint of involvement in the whole film.

Personally, I think director Chris Martinez should have fully heeded the nuances and true essence of the word 'remake' first before making this one. Aside from a screenplay fully devoted to the original's satirically composed dialogues (which I think, although how rich the source material is, does not give this remake any rightful merits) that is a delightful thing of the past, this "Temptation Island" remake is, overall, a very messy film, editing wise. Scenes jump from one to the other without a sense of adhesion, while relationships develop without a sense of emotional rhythm. And that final, post-island scenes are just too overlong in a very cliched and unnecessary kind of way.

And those 'food' hallucination scenes, which made the original even crazier and cheesier, are recreated not for the sake of eliciting the penetrating idea of 'hunger', but for the sake of the chief actresses to showcase their modeling prowess once more.

Compared to Martinez's earlier film "Here Comes the Bride", "Temptation Island" is an empty, absurd load of cinematic tosh (Maybe it's its campy intent, but it just doesn't translate that well). And who would have known? John Lapus' bodily parts produce finely grilled pork chops. Nice.

As the end credits roll, scenes from both the original film and this remake show up in succession. And for what? For comparison. Dialogues overlapping with one another, sometimes one trailing the other. I can't see the necessity of this remake. For comparison? If both are fueled with the same script and virtually with the same line deliveries, who needs that? If one needs a biting satire regarding the not so glitzy side of contemporary fashion, beauty contests and the world of social climbers and nausea-inducing extreme elitism, then local films such as "Pinay Pie" and "Bikini Open" are much more potent representations. Not this one.

(By the way, except for the dialogues, I did not like the original "Temptation Island" film that much either. So there.)

FINAL RATING

The Hangover (Todd Phillips)

The remains of the day.

(Second Viewing: Opinion still hasn't changed.)

Oh, how this fell short for me. "The Hangover", a very ingeniously-structured comedy film with an original stroke and naturally appealing characters, although how everyone seem to deem as a modern emulation of a comic masterpiece, never really delivered as what it is heralded to be. The film's establishment was good enough as we see a garden wedding being prepared and readied to the tooth, while looming overhead shots of the proverbial 'Sin City' that is Las Vegas reveal themselves as the opening credits roll.

It is quite menacing a foreshadowing that seems to belong more in a thriller film than in a raunchy comedy, but it is still an effective build-up. Then we get to meet the characters/culprits of the titular dilemma that roots out from the mere idea of a conventional bachelor's party: Alan (Zach Galifianakis), an eccentric, behaviorally ambiguous brother-in-law to be for Doug (Justin Bartha), the groom that is nowhere to be found and is the reason for the quest in and around Vegas and the Mohave desert. Then there's the pretty boy Phil (Bradley Cooper) and the dentist Stu (Ed Helms) who are both clueless on what they have done yet sublimely relishing all of it.

One of the most inventive things in the film is how these particular characters wake up, clueless, aching heads and all, in a room filled with residues of an overtly wasted and distorted night. A tiger in a bathroom, a mattress impaled in one of the Caesar Palace's adorning statues, a missing tooth and a baby. Oh, and add up an impromptu wedding that even predates the one that they're actually going to attend.

The said room (or villa), filled with out of place objects (and animals) here and there for the characters to pick up the pieces and re-trace their steps, is very unique, otherworldly and even surrealistically over-the-top. Indeed a promising initial entry pass into the craziness of it all. But after that, the whole film started to slowly disintegrate and tread the grounds of contrivance by way of how it tries to mend and connect events that led to their disordered villa and their pitiful physical states. At certain sequences, out of nowhere and of the blue, assortment of low-lives and pesky criminals suddenly enter the scene from all sides.

There's nothing wrong with that, The Coens' great "The Big Lebowski" executed that well without looking the slightest bit of being forced. But in "The Hangover", it's just too flimsy in its handling, letting the likes of Mr. Chow (great portrayal by Ken Jeong) and some other baseball bat-wielding scums crash and attack their way into the forefronts of the film. At least in "The Big Lebowski", we got a reason for the suddenness of the attack on the Dude's house and carpet, and it's articulate in its characters' exposition. In this film, on the other hand, the entrances of such characters are just too meddled and a bit exaggerated in their reactions considering that what happened the night before is just too uncontrollable and downright crazy to be easily and shallowly reciprocated with retribution. Add up the 'Black Doug' character near the end that is inserted suddenly without any prior introductory scenes, we got some characters whose immediate presence are questionable at best.

"The Big Lebowski" is brilliant in its gallery of bizarre characters that are lively and offbeat all at the same time. "The Hangover", in comparison, just offered nothing more but a sideshow of caricatures merely there to serve as oblique, one-dimensional ornaments in the whole shebang, and it's really quite disappointing.

Now you may ask, why compare "The Hangover" to "The Big Lebowski"? Well, considering the praises that this film has garnered that hyper-molded it as an instant comedy masterpiece, I think comparing it with a 'true' comic genius of a film is quite logical and valid. And based on what I've came up with, this film does not have enough on its sleeve. 'Some guys just can't handle Vegas'. Yeah, that's a fact, but there are also people who just can't handle too much hype. Count me as one.

FINAL RATING

The Hangover Part II (Todd Phillips)

The pack is back, and they're in deep s**t again.

"It happened again." That line uttered by Phil, played by Bradley Cooper, isn't just a dialogue that welcomes an expected rehash of the million to none mishap in the first "The Hangover" film. In a way, it is a pure declaration of things to come. If the first film dared to create an outrageously original narrative out of two split ideas of a delayed wedding and a very bad hangover, this second introduced us to something consciously cinematic and contrived: they're now officially nothing but a plot device.

But despite of the fact that "The Hangover Part II's" overall quality both in and out is basically just the same with its predecessor, I think this film is now more focused more than ever to its characters than the far-fetched plot. And although the 'Wolfpack' (their name, according to Alan) do not have any control to whatever happens in the film, their profanity-laden, insanity-driven and drug-addled antics surely reign over it.

"Bangkok has them now" is more or less a phrase about the idea of hopelessness and being done for, but I think the phrase "They are now IN Bangkok" is a more apt generalization. Do you really think that they are the victim here? Or is it the other way around?

Much has been said about the film's extreme one-dimensional Asian stereotyping, Eric Cartman-style, by way of Zach Galifianakis' Alan. But looking at it, Galifianakis' character's suggestive racism is much more depleted compared to the film's visual texture that is more or less the one with the more judging, eyebrow-raised tone. The camera pans over Thailand's dirty streets, claustrophobic alleyways and cheap transvestite clubs. And if ever it goes through high-rise buildings, they're just treated as places for criminal deals. The police are portrayed as silent idiots who can't discern an old man from a young I.D. picture, a Kim Jong-il look-alike criminal (perfectly portrayed by actor Ken Jeong in both the first film and here) shown as an effeminate little bastard and an exploited elderly monk on the side.

Of course, to a viewer whose comfort zone is in the open and a sensitivity that is considerably heightened, "The Hangover Part II" can easily be seen as a comedy piece about third-world condemnation. Unconsciously (maybe), some critics who have rated it below average may have done so because of its heavy-handed undertones or because of its distasteful visual preferences. But you know what? This film, for whatever it tries to achieve, whether it is to be a reluctant adventure feature, a mystery film or a naively transgressive exploration of Bangkok's underbelly, pulled it all off quite convincingly and without relent.

And surprisingly, the much-needed performance push for the film was never undermined for the sake of shock comedy. Zach Galifianakis is quite successful as the eccentric Alan, Ken Jeong, as what I've mentioned above, is great as Chow and even Paul Giamatti's cameo is never wasted. But I think Ed Helms as Stu is the best in the film in his ability to convey and contain both vulnerability and contempt in his predicament, both for his pungent exploits in the streets of Bangkok the night before and his uneasily cold relationship with his bride's father .

As a sequel, I think "The Hangover Part II" is arguably better and more resonant with its exotic choice of country and pseudo-cultural crash course compared to the first's colorful though bland Las Vegas setting. And as a comedy film, it has all the goods and clumsy energy of a charged summer farce, well-conceived plot twists and turns, to say the least, and some commonly-placed grotesques.

Only the sense of 'I've seen it all before' (even the picture slideshow during the end credits is still intact, there to do nothing but (clears throat) fill up potential plot holes) and an awkwardly mishandled Mike Tyson cameo prevent it from being outright 'solid' and truly exceptional, save for its great cinematography and some scattered hilarity.

FINAL RATING