Los Olvidados (Luis Buñuel)

El Jaibo.

Years before his satirical digs towards the bourgeoisie crowd with masterful films like "The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie" and "The Phantom of Liberty", Luis Buñuel was already out there stressing a significant point or two. And in "Los Olvidados'" case, it is the tragedy of children forced into the life of crime not because they want to but because there really is no other option; that and maybe some lack of guidance and parental warmth. Can you really blame a petty crime solely on the small hands that have done it? 

With a visual preference that is geared more towards neorealism, this film specifically highlights Luis Buñuel's humbler days as a filmmaker both in imagery and themes. But being the audacious auteur that he always was, he has successfully combined the grittiness of social realism with the visual profundity of surrealism. What resulted was a brave, candid and ultimately gut-churning film that emphasizes the sheer decay of youth life in post-war Mexico that's as potent to this day as it was when it was released more than 60 years ago. 

Youth angst, as we all know, is a favorite topic amongst filmmakers. Be it in the context of formal education, societal disconnection or simple case of immature alienation, directors have wallowed in them, sometimes to pretentious extent. But only a few films have really embraced the topic of adolescence with an intention to expose something alarmingly rancid and truthful. One of them is "Los Olvidados". 

Years before "City of God" has rocked the film world with its fearless portrait of youth criminality in the titular Rio de Janeiro neighborhood, "Los Olvidados" has already left a mark in the world of cinema with its intense depiction of spontaneous criminality committed by the most fragile of bodies and the youngest of minds. In every country's underbelly, there are criminals who will steal and kill for money. Luis Buñuel has highlighted the sad fact that among those low-lives are young ones who doesn't even know what's left from right, right from wrong. The truth hurts indeed. 

Generally about the reality of youth criminality, "Los Olvidados" is focused on three facets, represented by three unforgettable characters: El Jaibo (Roberto Cobo) the full-fledged criminal, young Pedro (Alfonso Mejia) the conflicted one, and Ojitos (Mario Ramirez), the kindred boy who got dragged in the middle of it all. With these characters, Buñuel was able to explore the extent of their reality by mixing both hope and despair. Hope that one of them may ultimately choose to escape and lead a better life, and despair that maybe all of them are, after all, futilely treading a path towards a moral cul-de-sac. And between those, there were Buñuel's chickens. 

All throughout the film and even in one of the characters' dream, chickens were ever-present. How do these feathery animals really figure in on the film's whole thematic plateau? "Look into the eyes of a chicken and you will see real stupidity," the great Werner Herzog has stated. Though that is too derogatory a remark, I think that it speaks well for what Buñuel's chickens may ultimately signify in this film. With that blunt statement about chickens, maybe what Herzog mistakes as idiocy, Buñuel sees as naivety. Perhaps it's not stupidity that they represent but innocence. And in every chickens smashed into smithereens (as in the film), it is innocence lost. Maybe that also applies quite well with the notorious chicken sex scene in "Pink Flamingos". 

Back in 1950 when the Mexican government was eager for its citizens to see, feel and sense progress even when it means suppressing truth itself, "Los Olvidados" is incredibly audacious, what with its decrepit portrayal of urban squalor and looming sense of hopelessness. But this, I think, is also an urgent film of terrible necessity because it shows something painfully real. "Los Olvidados", with its timeless statement about impoverished youth life, is one of those truly powerful cinematic creations that constantly remind us that not all children are for the good old sing and dance.

FINAL RATING

Lola (Brillante Mendoza)

Anita Linda as Lola Sepa.

Just when I thought that Brillante Mendoza will not get out of his trend of sexual and disturbingly putrid depictions of the modern downsides of Philippine society, here he comes bringing "Lola", a painful, yet at times comic, observation of two striving grandmothers on opposite sides of a situation (one whose grandson is the victim and the other, the suspect) trying to cope up with the tragic trails, including financial shortcomings, brought forth by an uneasy crime. Anita Linda and Rustica Carpio, both past their physical primes, may have just given their more-than-impressive swan songs. Director Mendoza, who is not that much known on squeezing out pure performances from his actors/actresses (as his characters usually just blend in into the realistic palette of the surroundings), handled may be the two most astounding ones from aged performers.

In some ways, it's almost a miraculous feat on his part (and cinematographer Odyssey Flores) in terms of enhancing Anita Linda and Rustica Carpio's natural and honest evocation of suppressed sufferings and prolonged sacrifices as impoverished grandparents through a panoramic view of the present social state of those inflicted with destitution. But the real highlight is of course from the two brave, nagging, and at times, swindling heroines who will do just about anything not just to resolve their numerous woes, mostly involving money, but also to unconsciously prove their 'worth'. Throughout the film, as the camera follows them both, we see them express stern authority to younger people, ask for directions and assistance like one, and show extreme determination like middle-aged fellows.

They embody the three stages of life based on the entirety of their characteristics. Their bodies show the tweaks of aging, but when, as they say, push comes to shove, their minds does not.

But in one specific sequence that is arguably the most resonant in the film, our protagonists engage in a very subtle, open and realistic conversation about the simple realities of old age. Many times, I have overheard old people talking. No, they do not talk about transcendent and elegiac things such as existence and life affirmations. Instead, they talk about the most trivial of things such as aching bodies, rheumatism and efficascent oils.

Brillante Mendoza captured the sequence with lightness and sheer minimalism. Amid the laborious small journeys here and there, this scene is their break. They do not reflect upon paradoxical things about their hardships but merely talk with a sense of common likeness. Although being the opposites in a tragedy, they share the beauty of human 'connection'.

At times visually and thematically similar with Nagisa Oshima (based especially on his explicitly unrelenting "Serbis" and "Kinatay"), Brillante Mendoza departed from the comparison to simply tell a poignant story. And what makes "Lola" even more fascinating albeit at times being emotionally painful is its underlying tenderness that treats these aged heroines of life not as urban sufferers but as rare triumphants.

Mendoza has already channeled the polarizing alternatives of cinema, but with "Lola", he may have glanced on some of De Sica and Ozu's brushstrokes and created an absorbing and empathetic film about human struggles and tribulations. Anita Linda and Rustica Carpio's performances made it all the more affecting.

FINAL RATING

Bona (Lino Brocka)

Her 'boiling' point.

3 times. I have already seen "Bona" 3 times yet its emotional wallop never falters. Beyond its narrative simplicity mainly set in a destitute slums lies the emerging complexity from a character which may seem symbolic rather than true molds from reality at first sight, but whose conflicts, choices and behavioral preferences leads her to the truest form of inescapable existential mishaps that prove to be in touch with the reality of mindless idolatry.

The film opens with the haze of confusion during the 'Feast of the Black Nazarene'. Countless people grabbing the traditional rope, wiping their towels on the black statue and others watching curiously as they converge for an unhindered faith in hopes of blessings. Brocka shot this 'cinema verite' sequence with a great intent to expose the rawness and spontaneity of Filipino culture yet it's also his powerful initial statement to the pseudo-romantic fable that is about to unfold: The worship for something fantastically adamant and emotionally inanimate to even feel it.

The waves of the mob wants the mercy and guidance from the Black Nazarene, Bona wants love from movie bit player Gardo. Religion and romance. Not your typical, close-necked comparison, but I can see where director Lino Brocka is coming from. He wants to show the blinding extent of devotion both from an immense display of it (the feast), its miniature counterpart (Bona's enclosed self-depreciation in the name of 'love'), and even more so, its occasional futility.

Nora Aunor is Bona in one of her most mystifying and logically puzzling characters to date. The narrative never even showed us how she has developed her bizarre infatuation with movie extra Gardo (Phillip Salvador in a role that, as what my review of "Jaguar" states, showcases his acting talent of differentiating transitionally contrasting qualities of a character) and instead started somewhere in the middle. We see Bona do meager things any die-hard fans would do for their idol. She gives him food and drinks and even shelters him with her umbrella during a rain. Her actions were understandable yet the man it was all done to is questionable at best.

We may ask ourselves, what did Bona saw in this man? Is it his stature as a showbiz figure? No, he's merely an extra. Is it his looks? Maybe, but she sees him many times groping with many women. Why bother? That's the ultimate question that came into my mind. It may seem a mundane inquiry, but it is from this that comes the profundity of Brocka's stirring commentary about who Bona may really be: An epitome of a confused woman helplessly testing her ability to dare declare her misguided independence and try her luck and flirt with her idea of loyal love.

Gardo, on the other hand, takes advantage of her innocence and treats her almost as a maid and as his mother's second coming. And finally, after living with each other for a considerable time, Gardo executed his sexual advances, to which Bona welcomed in confusion. The morning after, as she mends the chores, she also consciously hopes to squeeze out love from whatever happened the night before.

This is the sequence where Nora's mark was indelibly left with the power only SHE can muster. After the night of their bodily contact, as Bona prepares Gardo's breakfast, Nora expressed her character's longing, aspirations and expectations for a potential development of a romance through her ever-impressive eyes. As Gardo eats, Bona waits. She's hoping for him to return a bright gaze for her countless pleading glances, but ultimately, there was none. The night was forgotten, after all.

Brocka handled it (story written by Cenen Ramones) without highlighting the glances but instead diluting it through Phillip Salvador's trivial dialogue. Brocka manipulated the screen by letting not just Bona to taste the bitterness of romantic defeat, but also us. We may never know of Bona's motivations to live with such an uncaring man in exchange of her family, but her recurring dream of being entrapped by flames and a moment in the wedding scene (of Bona's friend and former suitor, Nilo, played by Nanding Josef) may have given an answer.

While drinking a beer, as the other people shout "Sayaw, Bona! Sayaw!" ("Dance, Bona! Dance!"), she obliged. As she is dancing in half-drunk ecstasy, a bonfire blazes in her background. All her perceptions of happiness may have rooted out from her innocence, but ultimately, her joy is to be always near the 'fire'. Brocka in one of his finest, and so was Nora.

FINAL RATING

Jaguar (Lino Brocka)

'Jaguar' tamed, tired and disillusioned.

Among Lino Brocka's works, I think "Jaguar" is, above all, the perfect companion piece to "Maynila: Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag". They both feature protagonists clinging on some undeniable hopes of tasting some of the sweeter sides of life, yet too puny to fend off social denigrations they face in the very process of attaining it. We emphatically looked upon Julio Madiaga's dimming dreams of love and aspiration in the night lights of Manila and wondered how we can even cope up to the follies of his naivety. Now, here in "Jaguar", a film that is not a necessarily weaker approach to the similar theme of an individual's social alienation and subsequent transformation, those themes were then combined with the similar elements of a city's absolute, misleading promises with the idea of opportunity and ambition.

Phillip Salvador is perfect as Poldo, a security guard hired as bodyguard by his boss (played by Menggie Cobarrubias, one of the great local character actors whose name you probably would not know, but whose face you probably have seen in a gazillion Filipino movies. Google him, if you may) after being impressed with his fisticuff abilities. Unconsciously influenced by his own gullibility towards a temporary bliss of nightclubs, liquors and women, he went on with the flow. Little did he know that it will transform into a flood that will consume what is left of his simple sailboat unexpectedly adhered into a yacht of sin.

I do not want to delve into Phillip Salvador's scenery-chewing habit nowadays, but before, he was a damn great actor. And reflected by this film and "Bona", he is the most convincing of all Filipino actors to portray, then contrast, the transitional qualities of a house authoritarian (his character Poldo's erratic behavior in their house) and an idiotically-treated guard (just like how his complicated character in "Bona" changes effortlessly from being a dominant household slacker into a faceless action movie extra). Aside from the naivete which he depicted perfectly, there's one key sequence in the film which screenwriters Pete Lacaba and Ricky Lee have written with precise behaviors and wordings, and handled by Lino Brocka with an impeccable attention in mood-heightening.

It's a scene where Poldo's boss and his other rich friends visit their house located in the filthy slums for the fiesta. We see Poldo talking and acting frantically, ordering for the foods to be prepared, even shouting to his mother to move faster. Then he looks to his high brow visitors with an apologetic look and a controlled smile. Brocka emphasized Salvador's character to appear very diligent, not as a host, but as a lowly 'waiter'. Brocka caught his character's splitting persona (that of a house authoritarian and a servant) and enclosed it in the said sequence. To put these in such a brief moment in the film is truly masterful in the sense of how it was handled without such a simple scene looking over-treated.

Of course, "Jaguar" is primarily made for us viewers to care for Poldo the guard, but on the other hand, the film also reverses its focusing lens to glare at the obviousness of his numerous moral shortcomings. Do we sympathize with his predicament despite his initial patronization of the decadent glamors of the rich? Do we still care for him even though he has unconditionally bowed down to these people's ways? Those which led to his moral bondage? These questions were continually raised throughout the film, but again, like almost all great films, "Jaguar" never settled for any closed answers or absolute closures.

Poldo leaves his house straight-laced and seemingly looking for nothing but a steady pace of income. He crosses a plank slightly elevated from the filth of the dark waters of the sewers. Halfway, the plank falls down. Apathetically, he jumped the remaining distance into dry soil, without looking back, and into his work. If that's not foreboding, then I do not know. But only if he knew...

FINAL RATING