Ang Manghuhula

Ang Manghuhula (Click on the title for my review) is a film written and directed by Paolo Herras. It is about an outcast and failed fortuneteller who returns home to save her daughter from a fate she herself escaped--the town's next fortuneteller; a fate handed down from mother to daughter. It stars Eula Valdez, Glaiza de Castro, Chanda Romero, Pinky Amador, Emilio Garcia and with the special participation of Bella Flores.It will be shown in selected theaters nationwide starting September 9, 2009.

Charlie Koon's Rating:

Dead Sea

Happy Trio

The local indie scene has been very keen on capitalizing on the new wave of directorial talent that has flooded the film industry for the past decade. The term capital, otherwise utilized in the net rather than the negative, is a relative term. Watching Ron Bryant’s Alon in all its sprawling and subtle intricacies with less than half of the theatre occupied adduces the reality. Needless to say, the market for such works is slim if it exists at all. The film’s respite is its understated power to mesmerize the thirsty few. It is, apparently, a slow reverie that drowns the consciousness not in waves but in drops, perhaps a form of torture to some, but to others an enrapturing feat.

The movie starts with scenic platitudes of the beach broken by a voice reciting a poem. The poem itself is obvious in its emotive intent. The film took another course. It is presented in layers, first appearing as a reverse Lolita (Kubrick's film) where the desire is projected from the viewpoint of the coltish naïf Vanni played by the excruciatingly ebullient Charee Pineda. She awkwardly vaunts her whiles to Fiel (Mark Gil) who is curiously obtuse to her advances. Once the audience gets completely inundated with Pineda’s annoying treble, the movie is set to unravel, showing the counterpoint to Fiel’s apprehension. The appearance of Eula Valdez as his sick wife Angela who is much too eager to have her husband move on with another woman is a study in melodrama and marital sacrifice. What comes out is an emotional menaja twa that leaves the audience guessing at the characters’ intrinsic turbulence, best illustrated by Gil in perhaps his most subtle role to date. Though at times elliptical, the movie dissolves gracefully in its own introspection.

Despite the predictability of the landscape, the movie employed a lot of curious points in terms of cinematography. Light was muted, shown perpetually through fissures of leaves, through the interlacing of a hammock, through hazy window glass. There are scenes where light is circumvented entirely, leaving the audience in visual limbo. It is testament to the director’s intent, perhaps a form of emotional expression that has dominated the artistic paradigm of the 21st century. The story-telling too is indicative of this, cautious in its progression but with eventual flashes of silent intensity, obviously not a fixture for the hot-blooded. It is a refreshing alternative to the shock market of hyper-intense realism that has engulfed the indie aficionado’s esoteric world.

And such a small world it is after all. Due to the burgeoning of low-cost productions, directors are able to indulge themselves in otherwise inaccessible work. Effectively, the indie scene has become a clubby enclave, a murder of talented (and not-so-talented) crows perching on trees in the middle of nowhere with only a few to listen to their irreverent squawking. Though it has gone a long way, it still has to connect not just with chosen intellectuals and masturbation fiends, but with a broader “Filipino” audience. Some may say that this defeats the purpose of indie. It is only a naïve illusion in a capitalist world.

Though Alon may have its faults, it is certainly worth the trouble of going all the way to a particular mall, the only place where you can possibly watch it. I guess it gives blood to the term “limited release”. But them’s the terms, you either surf in an ocean of still water or choose to drown with a cup of milk. I think that’s just the philosophical equivalent of freedom leading to inevitable dissatisfaction. Either way Bryant was perhaps not indulging himself in a masterpiece of cinema, but the devices he used manifest a style that is very now, very into the cool. The movie itself is not cool, which is why a lot of people may not like it, and it doesn’t have two guys fucking, which is why a lot of gays (majority indie share-holders) won’t watch it. But for the sake of intellectual argument, watch it. The brain will always ponder first and induce vomiting later.

Written by: Alex Milla (Guest Critic)

I have seen the future

Smells good...

The observance of a certain region, a territory or even a town in the Philippines has this commonality in perception of what their livelihood must be. It is not entirely bad, but it is totally overwhelming to see a mini store all over one place. At times, the entire street is crowded with a bunch of bakery stores. This film’s depiction has tackled a mildly different approach but it has the same system. The Quiapo Church might be the common ground for fortunetellers. And this has been their bread and butter. In this film, the fortunetellers inhabit a small village. Their passion in fortunetelling was projected a bit more. But I never thought that this simple tarot card reading might be competitively baneful.

Messina (Eula Valdes) goes back to her village after her mother Dorothea (Chanda Romero) dies of an unknown illness. Messina wants to save her daughter Claire (Glaiza de Castro) from the fate of being a fortuneteller. When she arrives in their house, she soon discovers that her family is caught in debt by a fortune-telling syndicate headed by Jakob (Emilio Garcia).

It was corroborated by the producer of the film that they employed a touch of magic realism in Ang Manghuhula (The Fortuneteller). Obviously it’s a bit literary in nature and some of the most prolific writers in this literary genre have very few works translated into film. Ang Manghuhula has this certain feel that yeah, in a way, they have translated into film perspectives of what magic realism is. If you’ll be more critical with its story’s progression, you’ll be perplexed because the peculiarity is entirely part of magic realism. Like in the story, the tarot card owned by Dorothea is known to possess some certain powers. Or the mysteries involved if you get to possess those tarot cards. The very essence of magic realism is to make the fantastic seem or indeed become naturalistic. Herras has accomplished it.

When the film started, it has this feeling of coldness in its scenes. Death has been very common in anyway it could be represented. The technical execution of the film is crucial with their undertaking simply because it will play a big factor in defining what magic realism is all about. Ang Manghuhula is beautifully photographed. The eerie scenarios are convincingly effective in recreating a flight of the imagination.

The acting of all the characters is sufficient. Valdes as Messina has portrayed the character well with deep understanding of the supernatural beliefs. De Castro looks like a newcomer and she seems like she has been too challenged with her role as Claire and has tendencies to look a bit overwrought. Romero’s participation is of course very well appreciated. Her presence has made the film more enigmatic. And it is surprising that this film has almost star-studded cameo roles from the likes of Angel Locsin, Epi Quizon, John Lapus, Candy Pangilinan to name a few. Bella Flores has been a crowd favorite the night of its premiere. And she will always be.

It is good to see that Herras has improved a lot from his suppose to be acclaimed film Lambanog which I have perceived differently, much of it in a negative manner. But with Ang Manghuhula, I certainly will buy this magic realism he has employed right from the very beginning. When he tries to imply Maria Makiling’s mortality in Lambanog, I have doubted it. But in here, magic realism is adequately translated into film. It is certainly admirable. Hopefully, he sustains what he is best known for.

Charlie Koon's Rating:

.

Trivia:

The term “Magic realism” was first used by the German art critic Franz Roh in 1925 to describe a kind of visual style that expressed a heightened reality but is based on mundane subject matters. It has been championed by a lot of Latin American writers such as Gabrielle Garcia Marquez, using the style to portray the miraculous in a seemingly normal setting. In film, directors such as Tim Burton exemplified in his movie “Big Fish” is a prime example.