Lamb Chops

Christmas Lights

Kinatay’s (The Execution of P) exclusive Greenbelt screening was organized by a company which I thought is a punch line for the event. Never served as an appetizer, Adobo is the leader publication for the advertising and marketing community who is now the bearer of the Cannes Film Fest 2009 Best Director Brillante Mendoza win for Kinatay. That night was a nearly classy event for an independent film that shoots garbage bins, mutilated panties and a moribund illustration of diabolism with artistic allusion. They served wine and cocktails in the lobby and adjacent to that is the mini-museum/altar of Mendoza’s trophy collection. I thought they would also give litter bags as an understated precaution for what we are going to witness. Kitty litters are nowhere to be found in the alleys, if ever there were grossed-out socialites would dare come out from their seats. So you are obliged to politely swallow your own vomit or anything you wish to take out of your system for that matter. But even then, your imagination functions beyond thought.

Since most of the audiences are from the AB crowd, the reactions are more subdued. Or else, a castration will be the retribution for being unsophisticated towards gruesome themes. We are the elitists so the expectations from us, the audience, are also far above the ground. And the reactions are overwhelmingly soundless; as if Mendoza can shoot right there for an upcoming film. And anyone who will react with a slight shock in their face will receive a standing ovation as an indication of being over-the-top. In a way, the surrounding in the theater is quite the unadulterated imitation of what real-time is all about. For about one and a half hours screening the film will defy any real-time purist filmmakers. Agnes Varda tried to make one in her 1962 film Cleo from 5 to 7. But she exceeded thirty minutes with the ninety minute running time of the film. Mendoza’s film principles could also be his own worst enemy. With the aid of the pen and philosophies of Armando Lao, who also preaches real-time as the “New Bible” to our evolving filmmakers, Mendoza has made another film with the same theory. But the difference is that, Serbis is just about there in getting the core of the supposed strength, as they enslave themselves to the theory of real-time. But in Kinatay, they certainly fail.

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Mendoza’s Kinatay is a well-orchestrated slice of life occurrence to the life of a soon-to-be police cop, who will witness another slice which is not the former, rather a slice of human brutality with the use of an old machete. Gingerbread men are fortunate enough to be molded from cookie cutters. Peping (Coco Martin) is a Criminology student who just got married to Connie (Mercedes Cabral). We follow Peping that day in these semi-voyeuristic slash rickety documentaryish camera techniques for the reality to sink into us. But despite the fact we are near the equator, our vision has no earthquake of its own. For once, I could now put forward my complaint, since the concept is all about hardcore reality. Anyway, the shots during the day are still clear; film celluloid really serve as an achievement in cinematography. As the night sets in, the inflexible obsessions of Mendoza seems to be the entirety of it – could be the reason why he have won. It does not only scratch all our senses, but also weakens his fervor towards real-time filmmaking. So there goes the re-assessment of the material. It seems that they are fifteen and a quarter steps in the wrong direction. I am certain that Kinatay disappoints on the leverage of its purpose. The purpose of which is found in the previous film Serbis. He could have setup a camera in front of us, real-time is within the screening of the film, on a purist standpoint. The impotent film Next Attraction made this statement but not in a positive and relevant motion. But it made me reassess the film and could possibly hail it as a great art trash. Its trash but a great one – it utterly deserves two and a half stars. I have never been in a formal film school but I am getting the offset concept with the rapid sprouting of extremism. It’s the opposing poles they want to achieve. So therefore, within the two films, which is more ‘a day in the life’? To whom should we give our tireless applause for conferring rapture? If it made you feel something, then it’s definitely a yarn from a basket of ribbons – colorful ones to be literal.

Kinatay might elicit a few more years of debate for its overly sensational and gritty material. And they could be praised for it. It has filled in the gaps to the scenes not explored during the Massacre Era of the nineties. Kinatay could be at par in terms of technicalities but nothing more than that. I prefer Serbis in Mendoza’s clump of films. It could make you think it is insignificant but that film could be more accurate without being too artistic or literary with its reflection. It is a slice of life that they preach and yet they are now afraid to incite boredom but opted to show a murderous night, from all of the days of our subsistence. But if you get bored stiff and jaded with nothing, it is easier to bow down to good old storytelling. Mendoza almost made a nearly insightful story and that is not what real-time had in mind. He will either chop it off, a conformist act, or do nothing.


Charlie Koon's Rating:

White Flag

Forbidden Love

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Love is known to usher inevitable compromises. Not unlike love are movies about love. They challenge the jaded, perfunctory education of the brain to relinquish the common cynicism, apprehensiveness, and gag-reflex of the modern, love-worn individual. Baler is no different. Set in the 19th century when the Philippines is at the verge of a colonial transition, the story progresses from one romantic flourish to the next speckled with the occasional demonstration of wholesome movie-grade patriotism, sentimental humanism, and your good-ol’ helping of mechanical Filipino-style drama. Moviegoers who are anxious enough to find a decent and intelligible MMFF film that still retains some of its swoon factor would not be disappointed. Hopefully they didn’t forget to heave their boyfriends along, kicking and screaming.

Baler tells the forbidden love story of Celso and Felisa. Celso Resureccion the charming half-breed recruit of the Spanish contingent in Baler is played by the not-so-mestizo-looking actor Jericho Rosales while Felisa, his coquettish indio beloved, is played by the trophy-bestowed and unindio-ishly pale actress Anne Curtis. The two exchange sweet nothings in both Tagalog and Spanish and drench themselves euphorically (albeit uninhibitedly) in the pristine, sun-threshed landscape while a war is festering in the mainland, not to mention in the grave mind of Felisa’s father, a rebel leader played by the ever robust Philip Salvador. Eventually, a planned assault by the Filipino insurgents drives the small but motley Spanish guard into the unimposing church of San Luis de Tolosa where the soldiers will hold their ground for an excruciating 337 days sequestered from all communication and succor from the outside world. It is under these terms that the love story takes on a Shakespearean relish with the two lovers separated by family, nationality, and the harsh veracities of war. Needless to say the siege from which the film derives most of its credibility becomes the white noise of the whole movie outfit, much to the dismay of nationalistic purists who deem the film as too neo-colonial.

Politics aside, the movie is in its sheer essence a historical romance. History jives with accuracy. Historical films are supposed to hold some degree of accuracy. But accuracy does not always equal money. It is often difficult to market period dramas despite how well-crafted they are to the MMFF crowd due to a number of reasons. Period pieces usually do not allow the crowd-pleasing doses of comedic leverage or automatic thrills required to get them into the second or third week of the MMFF Calvary. Despite this Mark Meily took the risk that most Filipino directors make. Hence, to criticize the film in relative terms and not on its inherent merits and flaws would do the act a gross disservice. On that note, let the bullets fly where they may.

There is little to bemoan on the technical aspect of the film. The cinematography was lush and nature-aggrandizing. What was less than natural was the acting. Baron Geisler as the Spanish captain Las Morenas was mostly awkward. The same could be said about the rest of the faux-Spaniards. This would have been forgivable if not for the intermingling with foreign extras that gave away the air of error. Though critics tend to be very fastidious with believability, the main core of the film is still the chemistry between the two main actors. This was palpable enough in Baler for the film to more-or-less claim the Holy Grail of romantic pieces, the much sought after kilig moment, the cornerstone of the Filipino movie industry. Despite Curtis’ bland thespian intimations that leaves one to focus more on her pouty lips rather than her actual dialogue, she still manages to transfix the audience to the task at hand, namely how is she going to get away with having a child out of wedlock in 19th century Catholic Philippines whose father is considered a traitor and the nominal enemy of no less than her own father. Everybody loves a good conflict. It is perhaps only amusing that the greater conflict of the Filipino revolution and the Spanish-American war would be nothing more than a backdrop to the making out of two star-crossed lovers. Simply put, the war in the film lacked urgency, and the waiting for the soldiers to surrender, dragging.

What was meritorious was the manner in which the film humanized the colonizers. Neo-colonialism for some may strike as emphatic humanism for others. Even Felisa’s obstinate father was moved to tears at the sight of his quarter-bred bastard grandchild. The cliché of love being able to penetrate enemy lines is given an endearing face. The character of Felisa’s brother, brought to coltish life by Carlo Aquino, corroborates the undertoned theme of the power of faith and love amidst insurmountable truths, all standard grind in war movies. Yes Baler can be magnificent to behold in its predictability, but not to its own faults does it lavish itself on the usual manipulations common to the ilk of romantic dramas. It has a certain volition of compromise. Not necessarily waving a white flag but a gray one, the kind that pushes the director to choose both quality and marketability. Of course at the present situation of Filipino cinema, one is inclined towards one way rather than the other.

Written By: Alex Milla (Guest Critic)