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

Hinugot sa Langit (Ishmael Bernal)

I have always been fond of Maricel Soriano’s acting range. Be it her occasional noisy self via her comedy films, usually with Roderick Paulate, William Martinez and Randy Santiago, or her truly intense side conveyed through her penetrating eyes, facial expressions and startling line deliveries. Here in Ishamel Bernal’s “Hinugot sa Langit” (written by Amado Lacuesta), the latter is in full display, and not just for show, but a beautiful character representation of a master’s vision of morality (and an adamant view of religious zealotry and hypocrisy) and how modern living, as what Amy Austria’s character Stella stated, requires it to be compromised.

At first glance, or specifically almost half-way into the film, it seems as if it is just a melodramatic story about a young woman named Carmen (played by Maricel Soriano) whose unexpected pregnancy (and worst of all, with a married man) unwillingly plunges her neck-deep in a narrow well filled with crucial choices, heavy-handed decisions and a brooding sense of social stigma. So the film's initial conflict is this: To abort or not? But then aside from that, the film gradually becomes denser in its thematic content. Tackling such themes as death, poverty and cynicism (the same ones that Ishmael Bernal has finely tackled in his masterpiece “City After Dark”), “Hinugot sa Langit” stopped from being a simple dramatic film and turned into yet another multi-faceted exploration of a Filipino society inflicted with distorted moral values, helpless lower class struggles and meaningless romantic flings.

Ishmael Bernal was able to create a perfectly contrasting balance between Carmen’s subdued yet panicky characterization and her cousin, Stella’s loquacious exterior and cynical pragmatism. Although the Stella character seems to be a bit clichéd in its depiction of a desensitized individual conforming herself with an immoral social stream, Amy Austria portrayed the character with a mark that is her own and, considering the moody atmosphere of the film both in cinematography and motifs, is the energetic center of the film that is also the closest thing “Hinugot sa Langit” can get to a slight comic relief.

And then there’s the legendary Charito Solis’ performance as Carmen’s overly religious landlady Juling (that also puts her in the ‘Alive! Alive!’ social stereotype) that evokes suggestive villainy out of her ‘not practicing what she preaches’ type of character arc. It’s also a pure breath of fresh air from her previous, though equally iconic, roles. From her past film projects prior to “Hinugot sa Langit”, she has played the titular “Ina, Kapatid, Anak” (along with Lolita Rodriguez), the martyr wife in “Kisapmata” and the former prostitute mother in “City After Dark”.

With her playing a role that is not an immediate kin to our main character, it exemplifies freshness in characterization and also puts a mysterious depth in her portrayal of a landlady that, in the first place, should have been very well detached emotionally from Carmen’s very personal life but instead slowly takes form that is akin to a possessive mother.

Aside from the unnecessarily happy ending that is a staple for run-of-the-mill Filipino melodramas, the film is a powerful meditation not just of abortion but the overall existential sprawl of social hardships and endless hypocrisy. But its hypocrisy, as what may be the common conception, doesn’t just root out from the film’s portrayal of religion.

There’s this powerful scene near the end of “Hinugot sa Langit” where Carmen, pounding and beating angrily at Mang David (the late Rey Ventura) after he stabbed Aling Juling, exclaimed “Wala kang karapatang pumatay!”, then cut to Carmen’s half-second facial shift from the one accusing to the one accused.

Through this important sequence, Bernal unearthed the sensitive subject of ‘murder’ both in its bloodily immediate connotation and its clinically-assisted one, brought it in an ambiguous light and never sided with any argumentative absolutes. Instead, the said scene puts a simple question in retrospect and symbolically shoves it in Carmen’s very face: “Look who’s talking?”

FINAL RATING