Take Shelter (Jeff Nichols)

There's a storm coming...

There's this one quote that I've read somewhere on the Internet (where else?) which says that dreams do come true, but so do nightmares. In "Take Shelter", the line between nightmare and reality gets blurred within the mind of a man compelled to enact on his eschatological visions. With yellow rain, black birds forming unusual patterns across the sky, and intense thunderclaps flooding his consciousness, Curtis, a blue-collar worker who is as depressed psychologically as he is financially, anticipates an impending storm quite the same way Noah did thousands of years ago. But if the latter has prepared a humongous ark to accommodate his family and the entire animal kingdom and save them from the great flood, Curtis squeezes out his loans dry by building a storm shelter some 10 feet underground. "Take Shelter", directed by Jeff Nichols, is a small-scale film whose themes are ironically biblical in scope. Is Curtis insane, or is he just a man who is after all crying a very real kind of wolf? 

Perhaps, there's no other form of mental disturbance worse or alarming than the kind where one sees frightening visions of the apocalypse, but what's scarier is the idea that such visions can be easily shrugged off. Michael Shannon, one of the most intensely specialized character actors right now, portrays Curtis in such a way that his perceived craziness seems to be bordering murderous but still comes across as someone very fatherly and sweet. Jessica Chastain, playing Curtis' wife, also excels in her role as a typical homemaker who wants nothing but an orderly and financially secure life for her family.

In all fairness, the film takes a while before its pace really picks up, but once it does, it really is quite shattering, to say the least. With Curtis' visions subdued and perfectly made ambiguous throughout most of the film, "Take Shelter" takes perfect advantage of its narrative's mysterious aura to create a schism between what's true and merely imagined. Indeed, what's so admirable about "Take Shelter" is how, being the doomsday prophet that he is, Curtis' visions affect his family more than it do other people that when he finally lashes out to tell the latter of the storm, what we see is a sympathetic man who knows that he miserably failed his family by squandering their life's savings and letting his insane projections of the armageddon seep out of his mouth for them to hear. 

But, surprise surprise, "Take Shelter" is also more than a quasi-apocalyptic drama. Set amid the backdrop of the U.S. economic crisis, "Take Shelter" is also effective as a subtle commentary on America's depression-stricken economy at the time, which also makes Curtis' excessive expenditure on building the shelter seem more ridiculous and unjustified. It also certainly aids the film's implosive nature by setting the story in a relatively sleepy community as opposed to setting it within the heart of America, as it welcomes a more unsettling kind of 'apocalypse aesthetic' without looking like a climax of a superhero film. 

"Take Shelter", visual-wise and as far as the idea of the world being no more is concerned, is indeed the antithesis to the films made by Roland Emmerich, who definitely knows how to put on an eschatological light show in the biggest of cities and the most popular of landmarks every now and then. After all, "Take Shelter" is an unsettling psychological drama, so it's only fitting for the film to unravel from the inside. "Take Shelter" may understandably be left unseen by many due to its acquired taste kind of pacing and narrative approach, but it's definitely something that flirts with the sublime. 

For many years, we have been given films about the end of the world that are chock-full of inspirational speeches and heartstring-tugging melodrama. Even the bible has made it look quite intense and a bit fun with Noah and his zoo-like ark. But perhaps, "Take Shelter" is the most accurate in its delineation of the end: somber, terrifying, and something akin to the story of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf". What this film highlights is that the world may certainly end, and here comes the cliched T.S. Eliot quote, "not with a bang but with a whimper." And if ever this film has proven anything, then it is the fact that it's a real bummer being a doomsday prophet.

FINAL RATING

On the Job (Erik Matti)

Hubarin mo ang iyong maskara, upang ikaw ay makilala...

Well, what can I say? The hype was definitely spot-on. Erik Matti, whose last work is the highly enjoyable, Grindhouse-like film "Tiktik: The Aswang Chronicles", has unexpectedly shifted gears, veering himself away from the fantasy/horror elements that have since become almost synonymous with his name, to direct what may be the most intense piece of local cinema that you may ever come across for quite a while. Though I can fully understand why this was not chosen to be the Philippines' official entry to the Academy Awards, I can also fully see why Erik Matti is quite sour about it. Do not get me wrong, "Transit", what with its highly international flavor and sensitive take on foreign policies in Israel, is a powerful film in its own right. But hell, "On the Job", at least for me, is on a different level. Though it can be fairly argued that the film is, in many ways, highly indebted to either "Infernal Affairs" or "The Departed" or even "Collateral" to a certain extent in terms of plot construction and visual texture, the film is nonetheless a shining example of how to do a modern 'Pinoy' action film right. I mean, let's admit it, gone are the action movie days where a straight-laced cop played by either FPJ or Rudy Fernandez can bring down an entire system by just using his gun-toting coolness and pure brawn. Also, the era where action heroes and conniving villains ultimately settle their moral differences inside abandoned warehouses has already come and go. 

For the past few years, the action genre is as good as dead, and no filmmaker dared to lift a finger. I don't know if Matti did this film to, in a way, resuscitate it, but, hey, I don't care, because what he has created here is way more than a decent action film. As God is my witness, what I've seen is a masterpiece not just in terms of action and plot swerves, but also in terms of tension and fear. It's a thriller film without monsters in the closet, a crime film with little to no involvement from criminals, and a gangster film without actual gangsters. Perhaps the reason why 'gangster' films can never really make it big here in the Philippines (except for E.R. Ejercito's MMFF projects, of course, which are also occasional flops) is because one must not look any further than our local police force if one wants to see an actual gang operate. That, I think, is what "On the Job" is pessimistically trying to prove: that the Philippines is, and will always be, run by thugs regardless if they're wearing uniforms or not. But then again, it has been said that "pessimists are just optimists with better information", so I wouldn't entirely count out the possibility that Erik Matti himself has actually taken hold of some 'juicy' insider information about our police force while researching for the film. After all, the film is, quote unquote, "inspired by true events" so, yeah, on second thought, color me surprised if he actually has not. But still, with or without that 'juicy' information to make the film look more frighteningly legit, this one still rocks.

In terms of its visual style, the film is very, very (and I'm going to add another 'very') detailed, roughed-up, and ruggedly red-blooded. There's this scene in the film where both Tatang (Joel Torre in one of his best performances ever, bar none), a veteran hitman, and Daniel (Gerald Anderson in a great turn if not for his 'Thigalog'), the young man under his tutelage, enters a 'litsunan' somewhere in the heart of Manila to search for their poor target. With freshly-roasted swines on bamboo sticks sitting everywhere, of course, it's but an obvious symbolism on Matti's, or even production designer Richard Somes', part: that the act that these two characters are about to commit can be likened to a butcher slaughtering a pig. But outside that thematic configuration, of course, the entire atmosphere of the 'litsunan', and eventually the entirety of Manila itself, seems to slowly take on a life of its own ironically as people start to drop dead. 

Aside from the characters, everything in this film, though it is but given that "On the Job" deals largely with corruption, anxiety, and everything dreadful, feels so alive. Another case in point: the almost visually baroque rendition of the prison and how the camera glides across every hallway and room like it's some kind of a doomed labyrinth.  I know, 'poetic' is not the right term to describe the film's imagery, and neither is the word 'lyrical' (Ugh, I feel so pretentious right now). More than anything else, I think 'inspired' is the correct word. Then again, what do you expect when Erik Matti and Richard Somes ("Yanggaw", "Corazon: Ang Unang Aswang") join forces? 

Though Manila has been seen in different kinds of light all throughout the history of Philippine cinema, I've never been intimidated of its false sense of nobility (the honorable-looking police headquarters, posh hotel lobbies, and exquisite function rooms) and frightened of its abundant squalor more than here in "On the Job". I've seen my fair share of 'poverty porn' films, mind you, and these pictures have made me trust the said city less and less. But never have I seen Manila in such a state where morality seems only applicable to dogs, where blood can be shed everywhere even on dank sidewalks, and where people can die at any given time even at the comforts of their own hospital beds. Corruption is one thing, sure, but killing is another. "On the Job" may be a little bit vague about the former (the ostensibly 'straight' characters in the film doesn't really go into detail except for them stating several times that they do not want the 'mess' to reach Malacañang), but the 'killing' part? Well, what can I say? It will make you  squirm, shout profanities on whoever's next to you and then at the screen, and then squirm and shout and squirm some more. And for an action film to manage to do that? That's magic. This is the kind of filmmaking that Hitchcock, I think, was pertaining to when he once said that he enjoys playing the audience like a piano.  

The cast, comprised of seasoned veterans, is a joy to watch, as they interact in ways that may either make you smile a bit (Joey Marquez & Piolo Pascual), get a little achy in the stomach (Gerald Anderson & Joel Torre), or downright feel helpless (Piolo Pascual & Leo Martinez). Going back to my "The Departed" comparison, "On the Job" is also mounted the same way in terms of character arrangement. In "The Departed", there was Jack Nicholson serving as the Qui-Gon Jinn to Matt Damon's Obi-Wan Kenobi. On the other hand, there's Martin Sheen's Pat Morita to Leonardo DiCaprio's Ralph Macchio. Like "The Departed", "On the Job" is also a 'mentor-apprentice' film. There's Piolo Pascual's Francis Coronel Jr., an NBI agent whose puppet master of a father-in law, Manrique (Michael de Mesa), controls and dictates his every move like a dirty conscience. There's also Tatang, who not so sparingly teaches the neophyte hitman Daniel the very careful ways of killing people as if it's the most immaculate thing in the world. Now I wouldn't be a bummer here and feed you specific details and spoil your enjoyment of the film, but for the record, let's just say that these four characters will inevitably cross paths and unwittingly add fuel to the already scorching fire.

"On the Job", though ironically not for everyone, MUST be seen by everyone. It's the kind of film that may put people off with its themes but will nonetheless still persist to be seen, experienced, and then some. The film will shock, thrill, and even offend (what with its abundant use of our national expletive), but what it definitely won't do is disappoint. But if ever there's one thing I sorely regret about this film, then it is my failure to watch it on the big screen. Indie films may come and go, but this one's here to stay. Who knows? If this is the start of a new breed of Filipino action films, then our Pinoy movie diet for the next few years is already taken care of, and we only have Erik Matti, once the master of B-grade horror and fantasy films but is now shaping up to be a true action auteur in his own right perhaps ala Luc Besson, to thank for it. This one's an instant classic.

P.S. Erik Matti once did an interview for the Cinema One documentary "Indie, Mainstream, Paano Ka Ginawa?" where he stated that he hates it when international film festivals treat Filipino films as nothing but 'exotic dishes'. "Kumbaga, tayo yung balut," he then contemptuously added. With this film, in all fairness, I think he has preserved his stance regarding this issue. Not only has he created a Filipino film truly worthy of international attention, but he has also crafted something that's entirely of universal appeal. You want proof? Well, a Hollywood remake is already on its way.

FINAL RATING

Frances Ha (Noah Baumbach)

Girls just want to have fun.

It's one thing for a film to show life's heartaches in all its tearful, emotional glory, but it's altogether another for it to look at everything as if they're all but punchlines of a very funny story. The latter, I think, is always the more difficult one to pull off, and "Frances Ha" did just that without even figuratively letting out sweat. Throughout the film, there are hints about love and sex and relationship, but it's really more about the bumbling life of this girl named Frances, played with an entertaining kind of passive-aggressiveness by Greta Gerwig, and her bittersweet struggles through the 'black and white' metropolis of existence, all while these three crumble in front of her very eyes. 

Despite it being a story of a modern woman who we can pretentiously brand as some kind of a bird whose feather is just too bright for her own good, the film is unexpectedly brimming with so much naivety that you can excuse her foibles not just because it's cute and all but because we can understand her blunders. Frances may not necessarily be likable in the same way the characters portrayed by Katherine Heigl and Jennifer Aniston (then again, I'm not saying that you should like them in the first place) in all those junk chick-flicks out there are, but in her, I can sense someone real and breathing and very, very tangible. She's the kind of character who you can normally bump into on some busy avenue, share a brief smile with, and then be both on your way. 

As far as I'm concerned, Frances is as real as any modern female character can get, and it's very smart to show this honesty without reducing and locking her up within a basic 'girl meets boy' plot. "Frances Ha" is, for the record, a love story, but not between two very specific people but more with life itself, and how just wandering through it, sans responsibilities, will inevitably lead you into finding both what you really are and what you're not. And though I have this great urge to brand "Frances Ha" as a film about 'friendship' (between Frances and her best friend, Sophie), really, it's not. I even want to go out of my way and label the film as a comedy but it's really more concerned with the honest-to-goodness dramatic bummers of a twenty-something woman and not with some of her inconsequential quirks ala Wes Anderson. In retrospect, "Frances Ha" really is a film that's almost impossible to categorize simply because it works as some kind of a romance-drama-comedy genre hybrid without really being any of them because it's really just, all along, about this carefree woman who's merely being herself.     

As much as possible, I don't want to reference Woody Allen in my reviews of dramedy films because it's just too ho-hum to do so, but "Frances Ha", minus the almost disturbing dose of neurosis and cynicism, is perhaps what a Woody Allen film may look like if he's a little less world-weary, less redundantly psychoanalytical, and, yes, a tad less sexual. Directed by "The Squid and the Whale's" Noah Baumbach, the film is, just like the aforementioned 2005 indie sleeper, is virtually plotless and its cast not much acting but merely being themselves while saying trivial things that, when you think of it, actually matters. Case in point: The scene where Frances describes, half-drunk,what she really wants in a relationship. That's just pure movie magic right there. 

The script (co-written by Gerwig herself), in all its looseness, is very effective in impeccably highlighting Frances' aimless pursuit of dancing and, subsequently, happiness as a whole. Though some women may not like it if I declare Frances as 'what a modern woman should look and act like" (especially today where the archetypal 'empowered woman' is the 'in' thing this side of the glass ceiling), I think it is but right to brandish her with such a label because, hey, she's as imperfect as imperfect can be, and isn't modern living?

In "Frances Ha", there's no story but only Frances' life, there's no love but only her idealized concept of it, and there's no actual, concrete friendship but only her dreams of, one day, having such that would never go away. And her goal? To dance and choreograph. Perhaps she's too naive and awkward and a notch too 'undateable' to choreograph and orchestrate an entire production number let alone her very life as it happens, but Frances couldn't care less. Sometimes, at least for her, to want something without ever enacting upon it may just be enough because, sooner or later, it CAN just happen, all while she's having fun with herself and making fun of what she is and what she cannot be. As one of the staple sayings of this 'Tumblr' generation goes: "She saved everyone but couldn't save herself." But wait, Frances is not the martyr type, and no, she's really not keen on saving anyone, so read that quote again the other way around and you will pretty much have the idea of what Frances' "aimless goal" in life ultimately is. Shite. Freakin' oxymoron right there. 

Undateable.

FINAL RATING

Transit (Hannah Espia)

Israeli dreamin'.

There's this highly popular and overly-heeded phrase in "The Wizard of Oz" which states that there's no place like home. I, for one, can nonchalantly and confidently say that, indeed, there's no other country that can compare to the Philippines' awe-inspiring, sun-baking, and smoke-belching glory. But here in "Transit", a film directed by Hannah Espia and is shot mostly in Israel, the states of mind of Filipinos who were forced by circumstances to assume a foreign country as their homeland are explored, and the end result is something that validates the claim that Philippine cinema is, yet again, relatively on the rise. 

Edited in a highly non-linear fashion that's quite reminiscent of Alejandro Gonzalez Iñárritu's films and whose story was told in a way that makes it a distant kin to Asghar Farhadi's "A Separation", "Transit" effortlessly crisscrosses between its otherwise all-encompassing and sensitive subject matter (religion, politics, race) and its smaller, more observant drama without losing a sense of balance. The film, about the Israeli government's decision to deport the children of immigrant workers, could have easily descended into the typical and highly mechanical territories of a cinematic thriller. After all, "Transit's" story is ripe with racial tension and international intrigue; two themes that most politically-charged thrillers commonly tread. Even the title, honestly, has steered my guts into expecting a relatively tense arthouse film. 

Surprisingly, what I got instead, along with all the others who were lucky enough to see the film for free, is a painfully realistic, impressively assured, and unexpectedly lyrical look at the plight of those affected by the said implementation. And as much as the film is about the consequences of politics, "Transit", in terms of characterization and story, is evidently more focused on its human elements rather than the bureaucratic technicalities that truncate them. Even the Israeli characters in the film, which, if we consider Espia's potential bias as a Filipino filmmaker, could have easily been transitory and completely one-dimensional, were fleshed out and were also given their respective hearts. 

Jasmine Curtis, once known in Philippine showbiz merely as, quote unquote, "Anne Curtis' pretty little sister", has developed into a full-fledged actress, thanks of course to Espia's impressive direction. Reliable character actors Ping Medina, Irma Adlawan, and indie nymph Mercedes Cabral, on the other hand, were almost unrecognizable in their roles. Be it through how Medina intentionally 'carabaos' the way he speaks English, how Adlawan, even without doing anything, evokes, through her gestures, facial expressions, and even her slightly hunched posture, the hardships of a typical OFW, or even how Cabral uses her eyes so effectively that they seem to have lives and characters of their own, the cast successfully makes use of dramatic subtlety to finely complement the film's effectively simplistic cinematography (by Ber Cruz and Lyle Sacris). But then again, the emotional center of the film is Marc Justine Alvarez as Joshua: the kid that's in danger of being deported back to the Philippines. 

Personally, I can sometimes tell that a film is finely-directed by way of how the kids in it act. And here, Alvarez' naturalistic acting just goes to show how promising Hannah Espia really is (I forgot to mention that this is her debut feature) both as a nuanced filmmaker and as an actor's director. And though there will always be, at least for a local filmmaker, the temptation to turn a film like this, which was shot in a foreign country, into a travelogue of sorts (eherm, Star Cinema, eherm), Espia never succumbed to it. Instead, she has utilized Israel's quaint beauty and religious traditions to further a sense of cultural insight into the so-called Holy land, to validate the characters' genuine attachment to the place, and to answer just why, aside from financial needs, it's just really hard for them to go. 

Of course, Dorothy was right when she happily exclaimed that "there's no place like home", but would the meaning of this very naive phrase still apply to people (like the ones in the film) who adhere themselves to the concept of home not because of sentimental or nationalistic reasons but of simple necessity? "Transit" quietly shakes its head and takes the statement with a grain of salt (Dead Sea pun intended). The way I see it, the film is a highly resonant reminder to the independent film industry here in the Philippines that 'poverty' is not the only topic there is, nor squatter areas and non-redemptive lowlives the only ones that deserve attention from filmmakers. Sometimes, we need to peek outside of our immediate realities and snoop on our more affluent neighbors because, who knows? One of our family members may be hopelessly lost in there, and who are in dire need of help and also of a voice.

FINAL RATING

Foster Child (Brillante Mendoza)

John-John.

By mastering a certain visual style that seems to have little to no regard on proper framing and composition and also distilling his films through perennially impoverished eyes, Brillante Mendoza has navigated through the local and international film scene alike (while nabbing some prestigious awards in the process) as some kind of master of derelict cinema. From the sex and filth of modern Filipino urbanites to the incidental violence that occurs in the far south, he has debunked the so-called mystique of social change by presenting unto us films that deal with seemingly insoluble societal problems. And by depriving his films of any melodramatic garbs (except maybe "Kaleldo"), he gives us new albeit pungent insights into the strains of modern Filipino existence. But here in "Foster Child", penned by regular collaborator Armando Lao, his concern is not much geared towards something broad and socially pervasive as in his later films but specifically on the beauty of 'foster care' and how it functions as a seemingly odd vocation.

     

Its story, quite simple enough, is about a mother of two named Thelma (the underrated Cherry Pie Picache in a most emotionally involving performance) and her government-sanctioned job as a foster parent. Taking care of a supposed Filipino-American kid named 'John-John', the film explores her everyday life as a surrogate mother to this poor, parentless little sap. Even her close acquaintances, namely a gay man and her very own employer (Eugene Domingo) are, in a way, parents in the most unnatural of circumstances. The first, being a homosexual, takes care of his lover's daughter from a previous marriage, while Thelma's employer, presumably a 24/7 kind of worker, is determined to be the best mother and wife that she can be despite a most passive husband. 

     

Although it's not overtly suggested, "Foster Child", a most emotionally sound film, hints at the fact that the lives of foster parents are, in many ways, enclosed in a painful cycle of loving and letting go. I know it by fact because our family has once taken care of a parentless baby for about 2 months, and the pain of finally giving the baby to its legal adopters is just quite hard to bear. Now, think of repeating this emotional rollercoaster again and again. This, for me, is at the heart of what "Foster Child" is trying to empathize with, and Brillante Mendoza succeeds in immersing us into this bittersweet world with little to no emotional artificialities. Best scene? The part where the camera lingers on a premature baby inside an incubator, and how it slowly tilts up to reveal Thelma's priceless body language and facial expression; she knows that only the likes of her can give meaning to this little boy's life, and as hard as it is to bear, hers is a motherly love that's on retail.         

     

The film, typical of Mendoza, has no concrete script. Instead, the film is comprised of scenes that are merely brought to life by clever improvisations and reactionary acting. Even the plot, as free-flowing as it is, seems to work purely by intuition. The cinematography, as shaky and as non-intrusively observant as it is, just goes to show how Brillante Mendoza has mastered the art of cul-de-sac filmmaking: that is, the style of shakily shooting films through narrow passes, concrete dead ends and shanty-jammed mazes. And by combining it with improvisational acting, "Foster Child" was able to achieve a purer and infinitely more spontaneous form of filmmaking not seen since the heydays of Brocka and Bernal. 

     

"Foster Child", aside from its individual merits as a film, is also a sign of things to come for Brillante the auteur. It's a film that's so painfully unseen by most people that many quickly dismiss Mendoza's body of work, often immediately after seeing his darker films like "Serbis" and "Kinatay" and nothing else, as socially exploitative hogwash. On the contrary, I think Brillante Mendoza may perhaps even be the most emotionally articulate director working today without even trying hard to do so, and it is in his more tender films like "Foster Child" where it truly and glowingly shows.

FINAL RATING

Beasts of the Southern Wild (Benh Zeitlin)

Hushpuppy.

As far as back as I can remember, there's always that one 'Sundance' film that gets a token Oscar nod for 'Best Picture' every year. But naturally, it usually does not have any chance of winning despite the fact that it is often far superior to half of its competition. For me, that's the Oscars subtly telling the independent film scene that "that's as far as you can go". Such is the case for "Beasts of the Southern Wild", a quasi-fantasy, coming-of-age film that really isn't (based on the stage play "Juicy and Delicious" by Lucy Alibar). 

     

With some sheds of "Pan's Labyrinth" in how it has seamlessly enjoined both fantasy and reality in a single continuum, the film is certainly quite refreshing and original. Being a film that's really quite hard to describe, just imagine this: What if a less cynical Werner Herzog and a less abstract Terrence Malick decide to team up and co-direct a children's film? Can you picture it? It's with a kind of profound narration and transcendental music, right? Yeah, that's pretty much how "Beasts of the Southern Wild" looks and feels like. 

     

For a film whose visuals rely heavily on images of poverty and semi-submerged squalor, "Beasts of the Southern Wilds" surprisingly lacks any embedded social messages. Instead, what the film has done is substitute a potentially pedestrian tackling of poverty with a completely unique exploration of innocence and pride that's finely fitted within an engrossing, quasi-magical atmosphere. 

     

Throughout the film, there's a relatively fascinating establishment of the return of the aurochs, an ancient group of giant wild boars that has lived millions of years ago, presumably for a kind of reckoning. But to first set the record straight, aurochs are actually direct ancestors of the modern cattle and not of wild boars, which is quite puzzling to me as to why the makers of the film did not fully rename the creature instead. But at this point, we do not care anymore because one, the film is utterly justified in this aspect because it is structured within a reality of its own, and two, because the film has a far more important angle to cover, and that is the roller coaster relationship between Hushpuppy (Quvenzhané Wallis) and his hot-headed father Wink (Dwight Henry). 

     

Together, both characters, thanks to Benh Zietlin's involving direction and both actors' heart-aching performances (Dwight Henry should have received an Oscar nod for Best Supporting Actor. Am I asking for too much?), dance in the rhythm of great dramatic chemistry without really trying hard to do so, all while the film's more fantastical nature unravels quite masterfully on the side. But then again, the very same 'fantasy elements' that have been laid down piece by piece with such care is the very same aspect that has quite disappointed me. For a person who has expected an equal distribution of both fantasy and reality, I ended up asking for more from the former. But if you come to think of it, the presence of the aurochs in the film is never intended to be quite literal just like how Aslan in the "Chronicles of Narnia" is. What it actually is, at least in my view, is a mountainously symbolic representation of Hushpuppy's ultimate 'test' before she can actually, as what the plot summary states, 'learn the way of courage and love', and it's quite effective because it gives the film a heightened sense of mythological resonance. 

     

"Beasts of the Southern Wild", an uncommon film of visual and thematic grace, is forged out of a unique cinematic spirit and genuine human warmth. The people of Baththub (that's what the film's water-surrounded town is called), although burdened by their difficult and relatively uncivilized way of life and are constantly being antagonized by welfare workers trying to get them out of there, is certainly a proud lot, and Hushpuppy, a girl that knows and feels more than the average kid, is slowly learning that pride, after all, is not that of a bad thing. While Wink, his father, has learned that crying is not a sign of emasculation but a vital proof of life. Indeed, the characters have learned something throughout the course of the film, and so have I.

FINAL RATING

 

Elephant (Gus Van Sant)

A 'kiss' in the room.

With a mere running time of 81 minutes, "Elephant" is a relatively short film by today's standards. But still, its succinct study of teen angst is cinematic power at its rawest form. By using unknown actors (except for Timothy Bottoms), devious long takes and painful irony, director Gus Van Sant was able to weave a film that's subtle in its societal commentary but fully incisive in its spontaneity. Though its appeal may ostensibly look as if it's a film that merely caters to hipsters and niche teenagers, "Elephant" is really much more than that. 

On one side, it is a stirring indictment of homophobia and school bullying. On the other, it's a well-realized portrait of high school life. But unlike films like "The Breakfast Club" or any other teen-oriented ones that rely on stereotypes, "Elephant" depicts its teen-aged characters not as categorized social beings but as emotionally distant and ennui-laden youngsters that are in for the whole pointlessness of it all because, hell, they don't have any choice. To channel the realistically free-flowing randomness of high school life, Gus Van Sant shot the film entirely in a series of long takes and multiple points of view to create a "Rashomon-like" perspective on things and also to give the seemingly stagnant Watt High School (fictitious) some sort of dimension. 

In addition, Van Sant has also decided to shoot the majority of his characters from behind (which sometimes renders them faceless) so that, in a way, we wouldn't care for them that much when they become nothing but casualties. For me, this is particularly cruel on Gus Van Sant's part, but in some respect, it's also the rightful thing to do. He has purposefully deprived us of any of the characters' faces and back stories so that we wouldn't be attached to them that much when things go out of hand. 

In the end, Van Sant has shown how fervently humanistic he is. He cares for his characters and he cares for us too. He knows that pain is just around the corner, so in an act of goodwill, he makes us see their backs, shoulders but never much their faces so that the pain of seeing them 'go' will not be too hurtful. Instead, he has focused his camera lenses precisely on the two characters whose irrational gun assault to the aforementioned high school students echoes the tragedy that is the Columbine shooting. But still, Van Sant has also depicted them in a way that’s also worthy of empathy. 

Indeed, there's no denying the fact that these two students have gone out of hand in their line of thinking. In one scene, as they map out their plan for their school rampage, they have even reminded each other to 'have fun'. But looking at it, they are also victims here. So if it's not really them, who are the real culprits then? Was it their parents that are at fault here? Perhaps, but the real suspect here, aside from these two students, is mass media and the brutal extent of our homophobic society. Mass media because it is the one that has welcomed these two to the fact that shooting people is just as easy as breathing (mainly through video games), and society because it is the one that has created this notion that people who may try to come out of the closet will be utterly crucified and laughed at. That, aside from the very sight of the shooting, is what's most disturbing in the film. 

"Elephant", one of the most deeply unsettling and harrowing films in recent memory, is also a very sensible, understanding and gently elegiac film that has brought these putrid social truths into the forefronts of cinematic discourse. Yes, "Elephant" is outright troubling, but it's also quite enlightening.

FINAL RATING 

Ligo na Ü, Lapit na Me (Erick Salud)

Star-crossed lovers.

Its themes jumbled; its central love story a baffling one; its ultimate pay-off rather anticlimactic. But despite of those, Director Erick Salud's cinematic interpretation of "Ligo na Ü, Lapit na Me", based on the book of the same name by Eros S. Atalia which I've immensely enjoyed despite of its peculiar and overly ambitious perspective, is quite successful on how it has portrayed the emotional confusion brought about by the blurring of the fine line that separates hedonistic sex and real love.

First and foremost, the film is a comedy which laughs at the idea of how an average-looking lad was able to indulge in a sexual escapade commonly reserved for the Adonis types. Secondly, it is a drama of realization which, after its initial pokes on the ribs, then attempts to reach out for your heart asking for you to understand. It really is a film which is quite difficult to describe save for the safe labeling of it being a film about 'postmodern' romance. Jessica Zafra once stated in one of her 'Twisted' books that to be able to save face, it is a particular last resort to label films that you don't understand as 'postmodern'. That particularly works with "Ligo na Ü, Lapit na Me", but the catch is, it actually is one.

Combining the sexual compulsiveness of Bernardo Bertolucci's "Last Tango in Paris", a great example of a film that has veered away from the usual cinematic norms about romance and sexuality, and "Annie Hall's" non-linear, fourth wall-breaking and animation-interjecting exploration of a moody love affair, "Ligo na Ü, Lapit na Me" has finely captured the first's raw sexuality and the latter's moodiness to create a romantic story that really isn't. Quite an anomaly, but I think this is how the film wants itself to be perceived. If the source material wants to be seen more as an experimental merging of existential and pseudo-romantic bits with social commentary and surrealism, the film evokes love but at the same time repels the very idea, and at its very center, flawed and all, is a character nicknamed Intoy but whose real name, Karl Vladimir Lennon G. Villalobos, may suggest that he may be fathered by a weed-loving social extremist.

An ordinary college student both in looks and academic standing, Intoy is your perennial representation of an everyman. But along came Jen: a beautiful yet very moody and puzzling woman who has immediately swept Intoy's feet and has also reawakened his stirring carnality with a subtle inner thump, all at the same breath. And with not much introductions necessary, they have suddenly agreed to engage in a strictly sexual relationship within the 'per hour' confines of a seedy motel room (well, aren't they all?). Was it sexual curiosity or a simple call of the flesh? Or was it a sexually deconstructed love at first sight?

Edgar Allan Guzman, who plays Intoy, is very good not just because of the rather strong material already at hand but also on how he was able enough to keep up with the film's pace and his character's weird voice-overs with an eager energy but still leaves enough space for genuine emotional range. In fact, his character is trickier to pull off compared to Mercedes Cabral's Jen because with Intoy's character being your average Juan, it's easier for him to just recede in the background in favor of her more imposing and enigmatic presence.

Instead, they have balanced each other out and Mercedes Cabral, ironically quite the shoo in, physically, for characters that physically embody the average Filipina both in looks and manners, was surprisingly very believable as a confused and moody sexual nymph who effortlessly charms men to the point of drooling. Although at first her performance is quite, should I say, uneasy to watch because Ms. Cabral is oh so playing against type that it's quite difficult and unconvincing to see her as someone as sex-craving as Jen, her portrayal is one of those performances that slowly grows on you and, as the film progresses, becomes quite a joy to watch.

"Ligo na Ü, Lapit na Me", with its strict focus to the on and off relationship between the two central characters, still gave enough thought to its screenplay (by Jerry Gracio) to capture some of the novel's witty dialogues that range from trivial discourses about the feline content of a 'siopao' to the more satiric mentions of religion. It is indeed the best film adaptation that we can get out of the Eros S. Atalia novel, but if I have a major complaint about it, I think it is the fact that the cinematography lacks enough visual composure to create a truly fitting emotional atmosphere that could have enhanced the whole film. 

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

Donnie Darko (Richard Kelly)

Donnie and the Manipulated Dead.

(Note: It's the Director's Cut that I have seen)

I think it's quite a mistake to brand "Donnie Darko" solely as a horror let alone a thriller film. Sure, the film's prevalent elements suggest that it is, but the film completely transcends both genres to which it's most commonly attributed to. On the other hand, I can't also say that the film is inclined to be a full-fledged drama film either, as its emotional content is often times overshadowed by the film's overwhelmingly menacing visual texture. A film written and directed by Richard Kelly, it's a film that I have fully expected to deliver and also to disturb, but its thematic complexity I haven't seen from a mile away. It's one of those films that you're going to watch for the first time out of curiosity but for the second strictly for cathartic clarity.

"Donnie Darko" is a deceptive film that, in initial impression, asks for nothing but your senses, making you think that it's merely one of those typical psychological thrillers, but then catches you off-guard with its beautiful convolutions and blasts your senses and your bedazzled mind away. It is a difficult watch, mind you folks, but not in the sense of how epic period films are. It's difficult in a way how reading a complex literary gem is: intellectually frustrating, even discouraging in the beginning, but is ultimately rewarding.

Description-wise, it's quite challenging to state what this film is all about in a one paragraph, five-sentence synopsis. But seeing it fit to combine various films to create an impression of what the film might look and feel like for braver souls who may want to give it a go, then this is how I see it. It's like a cross between Paul Thomas Anderson's "Magnolia" and Sofia Coppola's "The Virgin Suicides", with Brian De Palma's "Carrie" and even Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining" dually sneaking somewhere in a dark corner to provide the dream-like scares. That and some heavy-handed concepts of time travel.

Set in an 80's American suburbia, it's a bit of a stretch for the film to have etched some fantastical science deeply into itself. But with what I've said earlier, seeing that the film's true motive, at least from how I see it, is to give its characters dramatic pay-offs that are wholly unique (producing a sense of emotional catharsis out of the idea of portals and vortexes) in terms of how they were built up more than to depict an adolescent schizoid's mad internal world, it has nonetheless made the film's distinct mood shifts and tonal overlaps seem justified.

Jake Gyllenhaal, now a very fine actor of considerable fame, can be proud to call "Donnie Darko" as his great coming-out party, but the same can also be said regarding how Richard Kelly and company felt about Gyllenhaal's performance. Seething with deranged half-smiles and enigmatic behavioral patterns, it can easily be surmised that his Donnie Darko, a teenager with distorted visions of an impending oblivion and an evil-looking, six-foot tall rabbit, is one murderous freak. But on the other hand, with his acting talents winded to the fullest, Gyllenhaal was also able to merge those with childish tenderness and youthful naivete. With that, what came out is a character that may externally be judged upon as a doomed nightmare incarnate but is, after all, still entirely human.

One may regularly see people dressed as Donnie Darko on certain Halloween parties but I think he's not meant to be seen like that. "Donnie Darko" is a film that agreeably shows the dangers of psychological distortions but does not focus on its negative consequences but on how it affects lives in ways both unexpected and unseen, either good or bad. For some, with this kind of character treatment, it's an opportunity to yet again exploit give-away murders and bloody mayhem that may even breed dreadful sequels, as it is even quite fitting to see the title "Donnie Darko 2" dwell in movie marquees, complete with cheesy taglines that border on the desperate, but I'll just stop right there.

The film may or may not have provided all the answers regarding its hidden truths, but nevertheless, "Donnie Darko", with its conceptual complexity that deservedly inspires an intellectually stimulating post-viewing discussion or two, has awaken my ever-analytic sensibilities and my urgent need to understand. It is a film that achieves to simulate the sensation of reading an intriguing little book without trying very hard to do so. The film, for the magnitude of its ambition, can easily be branded as nothing but extreme cinematic pretense on Richard Kelly's part, but what it surely can't be accused of is cowardice of vision. A true modern classic, I believe.

FINAL RATING