Category Archive for: pelikula

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too much, in the name of love

In The Name of Love (directed by Olivia Lamasan, written by Lamasan and Enrico Santos) had the promise of courage.

Its OFW story is one that deals carefully with the fact of male bodies, where Emman Toledo (Aga Muhlach) and his dance group are hostos in Japan: dancing in a club and stepping out of there with blonde women in tow. The crisis of the Filipino family in the face of the OFW phenomenon is shown here with a bright honesty: there is no one to blame, there are no judgments, some loves don’t survive the distance. Coming home from Japan and into poverty is shown as a matter of provincial conditions: the OFW is home, he’s got nothing.

But the crisis of Emman, as powerful as this story already is, is made more complex in a narrative that didn’t know when to stop, as if the unhappiness wasn’t enough.

read the rest here! :-)

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Kilig down pat in Catch Me I’m In Love

And when I say that this movie proves Sarah Geronimo and Gerald Anderson individually and together have the kilig down pat, it’s that someone my age, with my history of bad love, could actually still get kilig. Yes, kilig to the bones circa 1980s, complete with stomping foot, loud laughter, sinking into my movie seat, nudging elbows with my younger sister (ex-student now friend) beside me, in the end tired from the roller coaster ride that a two hour love story can still be. Kapagod pala kiligin. Some things I’ve forgotten.

In Catch Me I’m In Love, the kilig is difficult to ignore, as it carries what is an otherwise expected story through to its logical happy end. It’s also a surprisingly believable love between a girl and boy who are really only bound by country, and when I say that, I mean the government of the Philippines complete with scenes of Malacañang Palace.

Gerald plays Eric, presidential son, who’s unhappy with being in the Philippines and is sent by the President to a far away provincial community so he may learn of purpose. Eric is accompanied by Roanne (played by Sarah), an NGO worker who deals with nation from the grassroots level, a confident girl who inadvertently shoots down the presidential son at an awarding ceremony in her NGO. She is appointed by the President (Christopher de Leon) to be Eric’s mentor in living with a community he would otherwise not care about.

The rocky start is obvious, even more so in the context of impoverished Isabela: between waking up at 4 AM to walking long distances, Eric was beyond his comfort zones of clubbing, girls, the gym. Never mind, since all that would be forgotten by the time he comes home from Isabela and is in his words, “a better man” because of Roanne. She who challenged his spoiled boy sensibilities, pointed out in cliché terms the fact that what these children in impoverished communities need is time and attention, not money.

Eric was changed by the experience, Roanne was only in her turf. But Roanne’s intelligence and confident stance about nation was happening alongside her crisis as a girl, who wants to stand in front of a boy, and ask him to love her. This she will do at the end of the movie, but in the meantime she is just sad about her status as NBSB (no-boyfriend-since-birth to the unlearned in local pop culture), as she is teased by her three older brothers about it, as she is oblivious to the fact that the rapper neighbor Vito (played so well by Matteo Guidicelli) is trying to court her but doesn’t know how.

Suffice it to say that between Eric’s need to become a better presidential son, and Roanne’s dream (literally) of getting a love life, this movie set it up so it all seemed possible. It also speaks of NGO life and the nation it builds as wonderful, where changing the world begins with talking to people and knowing how they live — a great thing to see in a mainstream commercial movie.

It’s in this setting that the NGO worker and presidential son fall in love, without the trappings of the usual. After another trip where boy surprises girl in Isabela (that’s what I call going the distance), they come home to Roanne’s lower middle class family to tell them the truth: without the process of conventional courtship, they were now together (kami na, in the vernacular).

Which as it turns out is unacceptable to the general public who think Eric to be eligible bachelor, and who will make Roanne subject of tsismis, evil as that becomes: she doesn’t deserve him, she looks like a maid, it won’t last long. To add salt to wound, a socialite who is the complete opposite of Roanne in looks (Sam Pinto) enters the picture and makes like she’s out to win the presidential son. Now Sarah is no ugly girl, in fact she was overwhelmingly Pinay pretty in most the movie. But vis a vis the socialite and the trappings of a presidential dinner she pulls out that social class card and it just works.

In fact discomfort and insecurity is a game that Sarah plays well, and it’s in these moments of crisis that we see how she’s gotten better at acting, allowing us to forget her iconic character Laida Magtalas (her role opposite John Lloyd Cruz). In this movie, Sarah’s role as intelligent NGO worker comes in painful contradiction with the insecure girl-in-love, and when Roanne breaks down and breaks it off with Eric, Sarah proves a broken heart in real life does wonders for one’s acting.

Gerald meanwhile needs to get over the fact of his good looks, and into acting like it doesn’t matter. Because his role here is that of Fil-Am heartthrob, Gerald sometimes seems like he’s playing himself. Yet when he was an arrogant presidential son in the beginning, it actually worked; when he became the gentleman who would carry Roanne on his back because she had a sprained ankle, he knew to balance arrogance with machismo; when he became this boy who’s pushed against the wall by Roanne’s insecurities about herself that brings her to suggest they break up, Gerald’s helplessness as he asked “Kaya mo?” will melt your heart. And let you forget his abs.

Which is what there’s plenty of in this movie, generally un-needed since it’s done in relation to pagsasaka, and Sarah isn’t one to show some skin or have a kissing scene. If the goal was to establish Gerald’s, uh, hotness, then one scene with abs seems enough doesn’t it? Plus there are his good looks, which is used to the hilt in this film; and those eyes, the use of which Gerald has mastered.

Sarah meanwhile, has mastered this role of the lower middle class girl getting paired off with the rich guy, fulfilling the layers of impossibility in love. Now this isn’t a new role at all (think Judy Ann opposite Piolo Pascual, Marian Rivera opposite Dingdong Dantes), but it’s one that’s done only by Sarah in her age bracket. This is all fine, but maybe it’s time to give Sarah something she can sink her teeth into. After Laida and Roanne, it would do commercial audiences well to be shown a role that doesn’t peg Sarah to financial and emotional immobility because of love. Maybe a role that doesn’t put such a premium on the latter, and lets the intelligence and independence shine? Maybe a movie that stars as well that bunch of supporting characters who make for Star Cinema movies.

Ketchup Eusebio and Janus del Prado play two of Roanne’s brothers here. These two were not only comic relief, they point to the value of supporting characters that hold the main story up, and remind us of the travesties that surround the fact of star power in this country. That the infinitely talented Eusebio and del Prado are not starring in commercial films has become normal to us. That I dream for these two a bigger project, becomes possible given a star like Sarah, who I think will ably carry a film all her own, maybe with Eusebio and del Prado as (gay) friends to a Sarah without a big time love interest, if with love at all. Now that would be a powerful image, wouldn’t it. One that hasn’t been done before. Ah, the dreaming is what happens after the kilig.

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unexpected romances

I’ve been told with disdain that I have too much hope for local movies, puwede namang hintayin na lang na ipalabas saTV ang pelikula.

But it isn’t with hope that I go to the cinemas to watch Pinoy films. It is with excitement, always: I enter a cinema willing to be surprised, having as context what is usual or normal for movies on our shores. It isn’t with notion(s) of hope, as it is with a sense of how things have changed, and how there are still plenty of possibilities.

So I was willing to be surprised by My Valentine Girls (Regal Films and GMA Films), the trailer of which promised a trilogy, one that’s rarely done for romantic comedies these days, unless we count as love stories too the overdone Shake Rattle & Roll horror franchise.

The conclusions for this movie are easy, the enjoyment even more so. I chalk it up to two things: one, the limited amount of time for each episode made for storytelling that was quick, with no minute wasted on long stretches of nothing; two, creative directors are all you need, the ones who have a sense of how love stories are supposed to look, how comfortable love can be, and how sexual tension need not be about pretty boys and girls, and rarely happens in the most ideal of moments. It’s also never easy.

My only question is: who was directing the story beyond the three episodes? Richard Guttierez plays a writer with a deadline, and we are treated to his novel-in-progress by quick shifts to the three love stories within it.

the rest is here!

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entangled and powerful

The rewriting of fairy and folk tales into more politically correct versions is an old task, one that’s been done by the best fictionists (think Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber 1979) and poets (think Anne Sexton’s Transformations 1971), one that’s been analyzed by every kind of feminist there is. We all generally agree: tales are archetypal stories that limit what we can be. Stereotyping is the basic accusation against these stories we’ve grown up on; current cultural theory tells us this doesn’t just happen for femaleness but also for maleness, gayness, every other sexuality in between.

The more dominant and overwrought critique of course happens for women’s images in fairytales; it’s one that has is proven by those of us who at some point thought it true that we are damsels to be saved from distress by a man; it is one that has as proof generations of female children who believe that there wasn’t, isn’t much she can do without a man. It might be said: what a stretch. I say: have you lived my life?

It’s in this context that I enjoy every Disney Princess Movie there is, long before that label even began to be used. This doesn’t include Snow White, Cinderella and Aurora’s (Sleeping Beauty) first incarnations as traditional princesses; it doesn’t include Ariel’s first incarnation as the Little Mermaid who barely goes through suffering in the way she does in the original Brothers Grimm story. Maybe these stories were Disney’s learning curve.

Because by the time we were treated to Belle in Beauty and the Beast we were also shown someone who was reading, who knew of the world and her freedomsbecause she read books. She stands up to the beast, responds to him kindly but firmly, is unafraid. Jasmine in Aladdin was barely a step forward, with a title that speaks of the male lead instead of the female one, and with the princess’s conventional rebellion against royal duties easily and simply presented to be about getting out of the castle, and going on a carpet ride, too. By the time Pocahontas and Mulan showed in theaters, Disney seemedto have found its niche in creating new and different images of being female, of dreaming, of freedom for its audience — kids and adults alike.

This is my context for the movie Tangled, a retelling of Rapunzel, a reassessment of the fairy tale that names all its silences and puts it up for examination. Right here is the complexity in this reconfiguration of the story of Rapunzel: nothing is easy here, everything is complicated, and almost overpowers the simplicity of family and dreaming which might seem to be its easy stereotypical point, but isn’t all that’s here.

Because there is freedom from want like we don’t know it: Rapunzel lived in that tower and filled her days with every possible activity within its walls. Here it becomes crucial that Rapunzel as a teenager was doing the more conventional chores of cleaning house and baking alongside new(er) images of female hobbies: reading up on the sciences and the world, playing the guitar, painting across her tower’s interiors from the walls to the ceiling, mural upon mural. In the latter, Rapunzel is allowed an amount of self-reflexivity, a skill that’s always difficult.

She draws herself looking upon the world. For someone who hasn’t been seen by the world, she knew what she must look like to it. She knows of the world and rationalizes the fact that she’s kept safe from it: Rapunzel was thankfully not stupid, nor was she naive in the conventional sense. Her naivete isn’t borne of innocence; it’s one that’s premised on possibility.

So when Flynn Rider finds his way up the tower, bad guy as he is, Rapunzel didn’t see him as savior, as he was about possibility: she was going to use him to find her way beyond the tower. When Flynn becomes a real guy distinct from those wanted posters with his face on it, Rapunzel didn’t simply think they were falling in love, as she thought this would prove the world wrong about him. Because her naivete is such, Rapunzel isn’t like most princesses we’ve seen in Disney retellings: she wasn’t stupidly in love, didn‘t require that we suspend belief in the process of watching her character unfold.

Instead we are enamored by her lack of self-consciousness, we are drawn to her emotional turmoil. This she had plenty of, a new and funny aspect of the retold Rapunzel, and so real given the fact that she’s been locked up in a tower for 18 years. Her psychosis bordering on the crazy, her ability at a combination of joy and guilt, ecstatic celebration of the outside world and the sinking feeling that it might end in pain and suffering, all seems real and probable for Rapunzel. None of it is stuff for fairytales.

rapunzel

When she finally gets angry at the mother she always new, evil as she is, it is all real, too. And when her hair meets it’s logical end, we were set up to think that it didn’t matter after all, the hair isn’t all that Rapunzel was about.

She was also about being barefoot, a wonderful image for these times of shoe craziness among females, starting them on the obsession younger than ever before, even in their version(s) of heels! (Good gracious.) Rapunzel wasn’t just barefoot, she had none of the princess-y qualities we see in animation, in the female protagonists on TV and romantic comedy movies, in romance novels and chick lit.

Here is her value in the midst of popular productions of femininity and womanhood: Tangled de-centers Rapunzel as a girl who simply dreams. Instead she is created to become the girl with short hair, the one with average looks, the one who does art and plays the guitar, walks barefoot, enjoys the simplest of things, and in the process actually lives. The point is that this girl lives, and her life isn’t a fairytale at all.

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2010’s top TV (and showbiz) distractions / destructions

Now this obviously cuts across networks, so that is its limitation as well: I can’t quite watch two soap operas at the same time, though I will try all the time. There is no list that isn’t biased, and this one for Pinoy TV and showbiz in 2010 is also a measure of my own personal taste for that which is different, and new, and sometimes a  bit inane.

John Lloyd Cruz in a genre all his own. Because he can apparently sell everything from biogesic to fruit juice to crackers, tuna to pancit canton, and just might have singlehandedly brought back Greenwich Pizza in our lives. Of course he has a whole barkada in those commercials, but really now, that’s every other barkada we have. What works in the end is that John Lloyd is so willing and able to make a fool of himself, and to create this image of being the every guy in a co-ed barkada. And even when we hear him admit to girlfriends, and we hear rumors of vaginal locks in his life, in the end all that remains really is John Lloyd as the every boy, like a Juan dela Cruz without the indio or the konyo, and just a whole lot of middle class charm.

An Aljur seems to be in order. Aljur Abrenica opened the Cosmopolitan Bachelor Bash for 2010, with the confidence that we still rarely see in our men after Richard Gomez decided he could just row his way in an ad and wear briefs in a fashion show. Sam Milby just lost so much luster compared to Aljur, also because the former just seemed so darn uncomfortable the whole time he was on stage; it also didn’t help Sam that the new and improved Christian Bautista came before him, who undoubtedly new to strut his new, uh, assets. Aljur meanwhile, had us asking for more, and we wanted to see him on that stage again. After seeing what seemed like hundreds of topless men, that can only be a measure of Aljur’s presence. He’s playing Machete in a GMA soap for 2011; you know what channel I’ll be on for that timeslot.

The Currency of the Kantoboys. If you don’t know who they are, then you are missing something. Composed of Luis Manzano, Vhong Navarro, Billy Crawford (without the Joe), and John Lloyd, and an ASAP XV original, the Kanto Boys go against the grain of on the one hand the now defunct Hunks, and on the other just the standard metrosexual. There are no perfect pretty boys here, instead there is imperfection, one that’s borne of silliness, and these four boys’ willingness to make fools of themselves, with poker faces throughout any performance. It’s an anti-macho creation that just works. That they remain cute — if not become cuter — is well, just their luck. (more…)