Contemporary Philippine Cinema at MoMA: Thy Womb

It is hard to believe we are talking about ancient practices like polygamy and dowries with respect to a nation as worldly and Roman Catholic as the Philippines, but this is Tawi-Tawi under discussion, the southern-most archipelago province of the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (ARMM). Don’t worry, polygamy is only legal for Muslims and polyandry is safely verboten for everyone. An aging barren first-wife will try to make the best of circumstances by taking an active role in the selection of her husband’s second wife, but it is a bitter pill for her to swallow in Brillante Mendoza’s Thy Womb (trailer here) which screens during MoMA’s film series, A New Golden Age: Contemporary Philippine Cinema.

To add irony to injury, the infertile Shaleha often serves as a midwife to the pregnant island women. After years of trying to conceive, Bengas-An is determined to try with a younger, healthier second wife. Sadly, his prejudices against adoption preclude that option. Given the importance of children as a source of support to the aged, Shaleha relents, but she assumes the primary responsibility for screening potential brides. She will also find herself scrimping and borrowing alongside Bangas-An to raise the necessary dowry.

During the course of Thy Womb (talk about a heavy-handed title), we see Shaleha care for Bangas-An when he is sick, toil like a yoked mule on his behalf, and even face a pirate attack while they are fishing in the open ocean. And how do you think Islam rewards such faithfulness?

Dear, of dear, this is a difficult film to watch, because it is so inevitably tragic. (Tellingly, Mendoza apparently couldn’t bring himself to administer the final indignity, but it is unambiguously implied.) Of course, Mendoza is culturally sensitive to a fault. He takes great pains to show how the islanders live in concert with nature and the seas. He also captures the color of their ceremonies with an ethnographer’s eye. That still doesn’t change the fact you clearly do not want to be an old disposable wife in the ARMM.

Nora Aunor is considered a Philippine national treasure—and it is easy to see why in Thy Womb, even though she completely disappears into the role of Shaleha. It is a courageous, openly vulnerable performance, with nothing that would appeal to a thesp’s vanity. Viewers will want to slap Bembol Roco’s Bangas-An, precisely because he is so believable. They really feel like a couple with decades of hardscrabble history together. It should also be noted Lovi Poe makes quite an entrance as Mersila, the prospective #2, who threatens to de-stabilize the equilibrium.

Thy Womb is often striking to look at—perhaps even too much so. There are considerable interludes in which Mendoza soaks up the local color and traditions rather than develop character or advance the narrative. However, the power of his intimate but extreme marital drama is undeniable. Recommended for those who are genuinely concerned about women’s rights internationally, Thy Womb screens tomorrow (6/13) and Thursday the 22^nd, as part of MoMA’s Philippine film series.

SFFILM ’17: Ma’ Rosa

“Sari-sari” means variety in Tagalog and Rosa’s Sari-Sari store lives up to its name. In addition to candy and cigarettes, she and her husband deal crystal meth (literally out of a cigar box). Unfortunately, Rosa’s Sari-sari is a little too well known in the neighborhood. Inevitably, Rosa and Nestor Reyes will be busted by Metro Manila’s “finest,” but these cops are not interested in collars. They are looking for a six-figure bail/ransom payment in Brillante Ma Mendoza’s Ma’ Rosa (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 San Francisco International Film Festival.

Rosa Reyes is a wife, a mother, a struggling member of the proletariat, and a small-time drug dealer. Her husband Nestor is her chief accomplice, but he is more of a consumer than a seller. Wisely, they kept the dealing at arm’s length from their children, but Raquel, Jackson, and Erwin still know exactly what is going on. The police do too, but they just what to shake the couple down for money.

Since the Reyeses cannot afford the 200K “bail,” they have no option but to give up their supplier. Unfortunately, they remain on the hook for 100,000 Pesos, which their twenty-something children will have to raise quickly, by hook or by crook.

Like many of Mendoza’s films, Ma’ Rosa will leave viewers feeling waterlogged. It gives you a vivid, tactile sense of life in the rough & tumble Mandaluyong neighborhood, where it seems to monsoon several times a day. In addition to the sweltering naturalism, Ma’ Rosa offers an intimate critique of the Filipino criminal justice system, making it directly comparable in theme and tone to Mendoza’s Lola (a.k.a. Grandmother).

Jaclyn Jose is wonderfully, horribly ferocious as Rosa Reyes, whose survival imperative borders on the sociopathic, yet she still has her mothering instincts. Julio Diaz is just as chilling, but in an equal-opposite-reciprocal fashion as Nestor Diaz, the passive, soul-dead meth addict. Filipino “It Girl” actress-model Andi Eigenmann (Jose’s real life daughter) is almost unrecognizably glammed-down as the grimly dutiful Raquel (under ordinary circumstances, everyone with refined cinematic taste should be able to place her from the killer appliance movie, Fridge). As her brothers Erwin and Jackson, Jomari Angeles and Felix Roco slow burn to the point of explosion, just as Mendoza and screenwriter Troy Espiritu clearly suggest is liable to happen in the distressed Metro Manila district, as long as the cops keep running gangster-like extortion rackets.

You can label Ma’ Rosa poverty porn, but it has a tight, tense narrative, with stakes that start out high and keep rising, like a more predatory version of the Dardenne Brothers’ Two Days One Night. This is a grungy cautionary crime drama, depicting a situation nearly any Mandaluyong resident could be ensnared in. Highly recommended for those who appreciate socially-informed class-conscience drama, Ma’ Rosa screens this Saturday (4/8) and Sunday the 16^th, as part of this year’s San Francisco International Film Festival.

Macabro ’14: Sapi

Which is more dangerous: torrential monsoons, demonic possession, or the tabloid media? All three are coalescing into a perfect storm in Metro Manila. As reports of spiritual possession sweep the city, two rival networks will race to bottom trying to scoop each other. The story takes on personal dimensions for one particular news crew in Brillante Ma Mendoza’s Sapi (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Macabro, the Mexico City International Film Festival.

It is a Catholic country, so they take demonic doings quite seriously. It is also a ratings driver. SBN even has a show dedicated to it: Sapi, meaning possession. Unfortunately, PBC has been eating their lunch. The case of a school teacher named Ruby is a perfect example. By the time reporter Dennis Marquez got there with his producer Meryl Flores, PBC had already caught all the juicy Linda Blair action, so they had to settle for a bland sit-down with the apparently exorcized woman.

In a Mary Mapes level breach of journalistic ethics, Flores strikes a deal with Baron Valdez, their freelance cameraman, to smuggle some of the good footage out of PBC. However, when their pilfered video runs on SBN, they neglected to pixelate Ruby’s face. Suddenly, a lot of people are unhappy with Flores and her team, perhaps including a supernatural agency. In fact, ever since they left Ruby, the three tabloid journalists have been plagued by disturbing dreams and gory visions.

Sapi is a strange genre hybrid that probably spends more time on the dodgy side of journalism than the business of supernatural horror. Thankfully, Mendoza does not go the found footage route, but the film clearly has a deliberately handheld video-on-the-fly look just the same. Yet, since Sapi is so grounded, when Mendoza springs a paranormal jolt, it is really freaky.

Unfortunately, in addition to being morally challenged, the SBN journalists are also kind of dull. Rather, it is the supporting veteran character actors who really add color and flavor to the proceedings, such as Jon Achaval and Raquel N. Villavicencio as the bickering news director and station chief.

Nonetheless, Mendoza uses the city to full noir effect. He captures a vivid sense of its chaos and grittiness, without wallowing in poverty porn. It is even more ragged around the edges than he intended, with many of the pieces rather haphazardly forced together, but his mastery of mood and tone is impressive. Throughout Sapi there is a persistently unnerving sensation something sinister lurks just outside our field of vision and the notion of bottom-feeding journalists exploiting demonic possession feels all too here-and-now. Recommended for those who prefer a healthy dose of social commentary with their horror films, Sapi screens this Saturday (8/23) and the following Friday (8/29), as part of this year’s Macabro.

Mendoza’s Slingshot

It is an environment marked by illicit drugs, sex, violence, and dentures. Welcome to the slums of Manila. While viewers probably assumed life was hard there, Brilliante Mendoza confirms it in spades in Slingshot (trailer here), his hyper-kinetic drama of Manila’s have-nots that opens today at the Producer’s Club’s IndieHouse Cinema, Manhattan’s newest art-house venue.

Like a dodgy Paul Revere, a slum dweller runs through the Quiapo neighborhood shouting warnings of an impending police raid. It certainly seems as if everyone there has something to hide. Despite the tip-off, many are swept up in the dragnet. Fortunately, there is an election fast approaching, so the local party hacks are happy to supply get-out-of-jail cards. Frankly, everyone appears to be on the make, as the poor and marginalized prey on each other, while the sight of Manila’s finest hardly inspires relief in the citizenry. Such is the grimy, cynical picture of the Quiapo district Mendoza offers to shock viewers out of their complacency.

Though it might sound like a class conscious issue film (set during Holy Week for extra added irony), Slingshot careens through the streets of Manila like a ricocheting bullet. Engaging in some serious shaky cam, Mendoza and his fellow camera men follow a large cast of characters at street level, as they navigate the crime and degradation unfolding around them. While his early adrenaline stoked scenes of the raid and its aftermath are bracing, the film quickly becomes exhausting. It seems like Mendoza has little compassion for his characters, forcing them to endure all manner of indignities. Indeed, when the would-be cute Tess and her junkie boyfriend Rex start mucking through a sewer pipe in search of her lost dentures, the film approaches overkill.

Even though Slingshot features many established Filipino actors, it has a decidedly verité “cinema of the streets” vibe, almost like an amped up Cassavetes film. In a way, it is high praise to observe the film’s largely professional ensemble seem like untrained actors plucked from this seedy world. Still, Angela Ruiz definitely stands out as the dentally challenged Tess.

There is no getting around the grueling nature of Slingshot. In fact, it downright revels in its nihilistic naturalism. While it is undoubtedly a visceral viewing experience, without a strong rooting interest or any representative of basic human decency to latch onto, it is difficult to feel any anger or sadness during the film, unlike Mendoza’s deeply humane Lola. An accomplished but hollow film, Slingshot opens today (7/23) at IndieHouse.

Tribeca ’10: Lola

Evidently, justice is for sale in Manilla. In fact, it is so inexpensive, even the poor can afford it. Unfortunately, life is also cheap in Brillante Mendoza’s Lola (trailer here), which screens during the 2010 Tribeca Film Festival.

One crime devastates two grandmothers. Despite the heavy wind and rain, Sepa insists on leaving a candle on the site where her grandson was fatally stabbed. It was Puring’s grandson who committed the crime. Having much in common, the grandmothers (colloquially called Lolas) should be friends. Though they share common ailments and sudden dire financial needs, their interests are diametrically opposed in the courtroom.

According to Lola, it is common practice in the Philippines for the family of the accused to financially settle their cases out of court. Far from considered bribery, Mendoza’s film suggests it is tacitly encouraged by the court. Of course, Grandmother Sepa desperately needs money for the funeral, but she also wants justice. Grandmother Puring will do anything to give her grandson a second chance, but she has precious few resources to draw on.

While Mendoza has always been a realistic filmmaker, with Lola he seems to have shifted towards the aesthetics of many independent Chinese filmmakers. His camera no longer restless, he patiently holds shots, soaking up the atmosphere. Intentionally filmed during the rainy season, Mendoza truly conveys a tactile sense of the unforgiving tropical weather. It also leads to some striking visuals, like the fragile grandmothers hunched over in the driving storm or a funeral procession consisting of boats sailing down the neighborhood’s back alleys.

Deeply expressive but utterly unaffected, the naturalness Anita Linda and Rustica Carpio as the grandmothers perfectly fits Mendoza’s extreme naturalism. Their sorrow and embarrassment are often painful to watch, but they bring a sense of pathos to the film that is hard to shake.

Mixing closely observed personal dramas with a pointed critique of his country’s justice system (or lack there of), Mendoza vividly illustrates the human and financial costs of violent crime. However, he definitely takes his time doing so. Deliberately paced, Lola is a challenging film that will not be to all tastes, but it definitely delivers an emotional payload to viewers who stay with it. It screens during Tribeca on Thursday (4/22), Friday (4/23), and Saturday (4/24).

Festival Alert: IndioBravo

Any film festival programming a seven and a half hour film deserves credit for its ambition, particularly in its inaugural year. Beginning tonight at the MoMA, the IndioBravo Film Festival will be screening an intriguing cross-section of Filipino cinema, including Lav Diaz’s nearly eight hour Melancholia, as part of a slate of fifteen features and eleven shorts.

Wisely, Melancholia will be split in half, with part 1 screening this Saturday and part 2 following on Sunday. Most features will be far more manageable in terms of time commitments, like the festival opener 100, one of two features which directly address love and impending mortality. Whereas 100 is a dramatic story of a woman given one hundred days to live, My Only U clearly takes the romantic comedy approach to its tale of a woman born into a family whose members never live past the age of twenty-five.

Donsol, which was the official Philippines submission for the 2007 Best Foreign Academy Award, should represent Filipino art cinema, as will Tirador, directed by Brillante Mendoza, who recently won the Best Director Award at this year’s Cannes Film Festival. Mendoza’s Serbis was recently released in America and is also definitely worth catching up with. As the story of a decrepit family-run adult movie theater, Serbis is provocative, but never prurient. Mendoza’s restless camera and sharply observed scenes of urban squalor mark him as a major international filmmaker to watch.

After tonight’s MoMA opening, most screenings will be at the School for Visual Arts Theater or the Millennium Film Workshop. Look for individual reviews here in the coming days.