My Own Private Idaho (Gus Van Sant)

Hustlers.

Aside from it being an almost Dickensian look into the world of hustlers (or male prostitutes, if we get a bit more direct), the film is also a tear-jerking look at how great of a loss River Phoenix really is to the movie industry and also to the furthering of the Marlon Brando-esque leading man mystique in films. From the minute River, with all his James Dean-like mannerisms and uncanny good looks, enters the frame, one can't help but be sad about the wasted potential of what he could have been and what wonders he could have done working with other talented filmmakers. In a way, this was his great coming-out party as a truly serious dramatic actor, and he didn't disappoint. And if Keanu Reeves' character Scott, a rich heir who, for reasons unclear, has chosen to be a hustler instead, is the one highly pivotal in terms of the film's connection with Shakespeare's "Henry IV", River Phoenix's role is its throbbing heart and aching soul, and he makes us feel every single ounce of his character's silent cries through his narcoleptic ways as a hassled hustler.

Though set in the polluted streets and dingy sidewalks of modern-day America, the film is surprisingly flowery in its wordings (to of course keep up with its Shakesperean roots) and perhaps often a bit stagy on how the washed-up characters describe off-screen events and explain themselves to their fellow low-lives. Sometimes, though, the film then suddenly switches from overlong, quasi-poetic utterances to brief, street-smart talks, which makes it quite incomprehensible and, subsequently, infuriating to watch at times.

Gus Van Sant, an openly gay filmmaker, is equal parts brave, bold, and even elegant in directing this film that even the more explicit sex scenes were shot in a series of beautiful, tableaux-like images that seem to be a very tasteful aesthetic choice on his behalf. There's no denying the fact that the themes explored in "My Own Private Idaho", from homosexuality to downright prostitution, is hard to portray in a cinematic manner that would not tread the territories of exploitation and smut. Yet Van Sant, who has directed his fair share of modern film classics ranging from the Oscar-winning "Good Will Hunting" to the shocking indie gem "Elephant", has never let that happen, for he knows that although the highly sensitive issue of homosexuality is the area where the film extracts its primary emotional force from, the film is still simply about this gay man (River Phoenix's character) who just wants to find his mom and also to love somebody on the side, and isn't that, regardless of gender, the default story of our lives?

As expected, with this being the story of male prostitutes, it is a given that odd fetishes will be handed enough share of the spotlight, just like the ones in "Belle de Jour" and especially in "Midnight Cowboy", a film that, I believe, is kins in spirit with "My Own Private Idaho". There's the singing Udo Kier, for one, and also the fat client who seems to get off when he hears the sound of cleaning brushes making contact with dirty floors. And in the middle of the oddity of it all and these night people who seem to be more of themselves when the sun is out, stands River Phoenix's Mike and his struggle to literally keep himself from constantly falling asleep and also to keep whatever's left of his memory of her mother, who seems to continuously pester his mind with recurring childhood scenes of Oedipal-like affection. 

Physically speaking, the character is already challenging for River Phoenix to play because there's the difficult obligation of accurately portraying narcolepsy on-screen. And then, there's the trickier part of mustering all the fragile nuances of playing someone as emotionally scarred as Mike and then keeping them all at bay so that he can project a false sense of street grit. Jon Voight, who played Joe Buck in "Midnight Cowboy", has finely captured that, but Phoenix, I think, has even perfected it. I don't know, perhaps I'm a bit biased about his greatness in the role simply because he's already no more, but there's a kind of elegy in his eyes and in his actions that makes the experience of watching him play someone as tragic as Mike even more heart-rending, and dwarfs Keanu Reeves' unexpectedly effective performance all the more. 

"My Own Private Idaho", though included in many 'essential films' list, is by no means a masterpiece, but it's the kind of movie, no matter how happy and contented you are with your life by the time you've decided to pop it into your DVD player, that will certainly make you seek your own private whatever, in terrible longing for loneliness. It's an odd feeling, but it sure is something.

FINAL RATING 

Scorpio Rising (Kenneth Anger)

Opening scene.

Being one of the more truly divisive films that have since become cult classics, "Scorpio Rising" has always been a curiosity for me, despite of its slightly icky homosexual theme. Indeed, after watching the film in its 28-minute entirety, I can definitely see where numerous film enthusiasts are coming from when they hail the film as an influential piece of underground cinema. Sure, with its psychedelic amalgamation of religious iconography, Nazism and the rising 'rebel' culture of the '60s, "Scorpio Rising" is quite effective in terms of pushing forth a distorted state of mind. But for me, the film lacks the ultimate gut-punch, which Kenneth Anger, its director, could have easily pulled off, especially with the often understated power of terseness on his side.

     

As an experimental film, the film surely has some intriguing moments (the church scene is one of those), but ultimately, I was left quite unsure about the film's focus and where it truly resides. Yes, it is a given that Kenneth Anger is seemingly trying to assert the fact that riders consider their hobby as nothing short of a religion just like how Christians herald Christianity and Nazis highly regard Nazism. But hell, I haven't felt the sense of cohesion needed for such a potentially compelling commentary on hobbyist obsession. And why add the fictitious aspect of homosexuality in the film? For me, whatever the context of this aspect may be, I think it was just injected so that, you know, the film can take on a new layer of pseudo-complexity.

     

Constructively speaking, instead of making the film a befuddling experimental/mood piece just like what it is, Anger could have potentially made "Scorpio Rising" a full-fledged anthropological film about the motorists' alternative lifestyle and whether or not they can bode well with the fabric of mainstream Americana. With that, I think the film could have easily expressed what "Easy Rider" has powerfully done so just 5 years after it. I did enjoy the soundtrack, though. Honestly, I could listen to the songs at any given time.

     

At the end of the day, it's quite easy to see the film's encompassing visual influence on other filmmakers, notably Martin Scorsese and David Lynch. But what is quite difficult now to make sense of is why the film is considered 'great'. If you remove the stock footage from "The Living Bible: Last Journey to Jerusalem" short and half of the film's music, what we're merely left with is a plodding little film that has its sights on nothing but tires and leather boots and its destination to nowhere but the directionless path to pretense.

FINAL RATING

Sisterakas (Wenn V. Deramas)

Sisterakas: Sounds like 'carcass' to me.

Perhaps the last MMFF film that I will be able to watch in theaters, "Sisterakas", expectedly, is an extremely formulaic comedy film that seems uninspired even for director Wenn Deramas' standards. Instead of inspiring hilarity by way of the story or the script, the film instead relies on the sheer comic presence of stand-up comedian turned movie star of sorts Vice Ganda and Kris Aquino's painfully funny awkwardness. Surprisingly, Ai-Ai de las Alas, technically the most experienced cinematic comedienne among the three, is the least funny in the movie. Perhaps her mother roles are slowly becoming stale.   

     

Like Deramas' previous, relatively funnier film "Moron 5 and the Crying Lady", "Sisterakas" narrative core focuses on revenge, a theme which almost always results in solid comedy gold. But instead, because of the film's lazy execution, not to mention some obviously borrowed elements (Vice Ganda's evil boss is too "Kimmy Dora"; Ai-Ai's role is too Ina Montesillo yet again) from other comedy movies and an irritating abundance of self-referential jokes (the big offender here is the scene when the three exchange one-liners about their multi-million peso commercial endorsements), "Sisterakas" never quite makes it as a good comedy film. And do we really need a "James Yap" joke, like, every 2 minutes. As if Kris Aquino's love life isn't already a parody on its own. 

    

The film's plot, about a fashion designer (Vice Ganda) who has made it big and whose focus now is to exact revenge on the family that has wronged his own, isn't anything new or a valid enough reason to excitedly anticipate every bits of narrative progression. What "Sisterakas" is mainly all about, fitting for its three larger-than-life lead stars, are the random in-between jokes that either poke fun on their real-life showbiz personas or just make bland scenes look livelier than they actually are. 

     

The real strongman here, surprisingly, is Vice Ganda. By letting him take over all of his scenes with his patented fast-mouthed mockery of other people, the film was slightly saved from its irrevocably fast descent into the waste bin. Even Joey Paras, most known for his masterful performance in the indie film "Last Supper No. 3", had his nice moments. 

     

But what was real funny yet sad at the same time in the film was Kris Aquino; funny because she was effortlessly so in every instance that she attempts to act or emote and whatnot, and sad because she was highly exploited in every scene she was in. 

     

Deramas, after all, seems to be more interested in making a laughing stock out of Kris rather than creating an adequately comedic character for her. This, in the context of proper screenwriting, is almost offensive. Those who think that Kris Aquino playing Kris Aquino is the funniest thing there is should watch "So Happy Together". In that particular film, Kris was at least tolerable in the acting department yet was still able to be quite funny, thanks to a much better director in the form of Joel Lamangan. Kris proudly convincing PNoy to watch "Sisterakas" will always be a big mystery to me. The film should have been entitled "Gawin nating Mukhang Tanga si Kris: The Movie". I doubt that the film, or her performance in it, will do Noynoy (or even Bimby for that matter) proud.

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

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

Boys Don't Cry (Kimberly Peirce)

Chloe Sevigny and Hilary Swank in "Boys Don't Cry".

Film Review Archive (date seen: December 24, 2010)

What mainly affected me about "Boys Don't Cry" is it's great departure from the common stigmatic view of homosexuality in our society and instead focused all its succeeding events through the eyes of Teena Brandon/Brandon Teena, a delinquent who spends some of her days in constant transgressions, and majority of it dating unknowing women with her disguised as the opposite gender. Through this treatment, director Kimberly Peirce captured the essence of her existence more, an individual that may be conscious of her disguises to lure love into her, but unconscious of the buried truths of what and who she really is.

This was flawlessly played by Hilary Swank, whose utter devotion in playing the teen who lives a lie was too consummate that her initial immersion to the role even roots way back to her very audition. The supporting cast was particularly able and strong enough to carry the harrowing feel of the film, surrounding Brandon Teena's persona and her actions as critical pieces to either make or break her.

I completely sympathize with Brandon Teena's tragic fate, but I would not go around the web in complete justification of all of her actions. But even though she's done some things that aren't supposed to be done, she did not deserve any of what she has gone through, let alone the things that were inflicted to her. But that, as they say, is 'that'; our society is always fixated on casting the initial, judgmental stones to flawed individuals vulnerable enough to absorb all the pain.

Do not worry if this review (an essay about the film's themes, more like) offered any spoiling innuendos (at least to those interested in seeing the film), this isn't your ordinary cinematic hodge-podge. It just happens to be a film mirroring the genuine harshness of reality and the implications of people's lesser judgments. One must learn to deal with it, and also with the futility of the 'stone' we unconsciously carry all our lives.

FINAL RATING

Bruno (Larry Charles)

Sacha Baron Cohen back to his good ol' shenanigans.

Film Review Archive (date seen: December 8, 2010)

It was 2006 and I'm in high school when I've first watched "Borat" and liked it very much as I haven't seen anything quite like it before. "Borat's" satirical and distorted view of America in the eyes of an innocent Kazakh reporter was very original and rather quite repulsive that I knew by that period of time that nothing will surpass its extreme displays of political incorrectness and offensiveness.

Then fast forward to 2009, masterminds Sacha Baron Cohen and director Larry Charles conceived yet another "shockingly hilariously shocking" (yes, I'll put 'shocking' into repetition) persona in the fashion-clad guise of Bruno, a mock Austrian homosexual reporter bent on becoming world famous, find out the ropes of how to become one, and tread sensitive issues such as terrorism, race and the virtue of sexual preferences among others.

"Bruno" may not be necessarily better than "Borat"; I even thought that I can nitpick what's scripted from what's not quite easily. But "Bruno's" satire, although very graphic in nature, encompasses wider subjects, dealt with them with sharpness and straight-to-the-point vulgarities that it came out as a fuller film to properly convey Baron Cohen's twisted comic vision of this world: A place filled with self-righteous euphemisms, pseudo-ideal sanctions and infested with hypocrisy.

One memorable scene though, the scene where Bruno (or Straight Dave) had an explicit reconciliation with Lutz, his assistant's assistant, in a UFC-like arena to the tone of "Titanic's" "My Heart will Go on". It's just ironic that a theme song of one of the most memorable heterosexual love stories on film is used as a musical backdrop of a not so subtle display of homosexuality. Only Sacha Baron Cohen has the outright guts to put all of this on celluloid, stay in character as long as it takes, and release it 'mainstream'. Get it. 'Mainstream'. Risky as hell.

FINAL RATING

City After Dark (Ishmael Bernal)

A glimpse of death.

Film Review Archive (date seen: September 30, 2010)

Before our film industry has turned into the mainstream disappointment that it has been today, masters like Ishmael Bernal strengthened the industry's foundations, not by big-budget films that boasts of colorful, shallow nationalism, but supported its pillars with 'critical bravery'; exploring the themes, subjects, and immoralities in a time of modernistic bondage of expressive sovereignty (Marcos era).

I've always conditioned my mind that "Maynila: Sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag" is the best film to ever portray the eponymous capital of the Philippines. But witnessing this work for the first time, it has altered my perception of the Lino Brocka classic and at the same time "City After Dark", for me, has immediately entered the realms of being one of the "definitive" Filipino films with the highest artistic control.

But do not get me wrong, "Maynila: Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag" offered an unforgettably painful look of the city from the eyes of, putting it bluntly, an alienated 'promdi'. It's a film that steers raw emotions, and at times slips into complete melodrama. But "City After Dark" may have been the opposite; it explores apathy in the midst of moral decadence and hysteria without offering much mercy.

There are moments in the film where the characters asks each other artificial questions like "Do you really love me?", or "Will you really marry me?". They're not honest queries, but merely asked so to pass the time. And though same questions may have come from sincere hearts, it's beyond their grasp. Manila's too busy a city to provide secure answers.

FINAL RATING