URBANA AT FELISA: Ang Liham na "Sa Eskuwelahan" at ang Updated Letters ni Jose Javier Reyes

Ang akdang Urbana at Felisa ni Presbitero D. Modesto de Castro ay isang “book of manners” na gumabay sa mga Pilipinong kaugalian sa pagtatapos ng panahon ng mga Kastila. Sa anyo ng mga liham sa pagitan ng mag-ateng Urbana at Felisa, naipaparating ni de Castro sa mambabasa ang GMRC ng panahon – isang manual kung paano magiging “sibilisado” sa kalungsuran ng Maynila at pati na rin sa lahat ng lugar na nasasakupan. ‘Di nakakagulat na ito’y nailimbag sa papatapos ng era ng mga Kastila. Naisakatuparan na ang planadong pananakop ng Espanya sa Pilipinas at hindi man sila naging matagumpay sa pagpapanatili ng kanilang pamumuno, nagawa nilang tuluyang mailubog ang kamalayang Filipino sa mga banyagang ideya’t pag-aasal. Ang akda’y labis na nakatulong sa pagpapanatili ng isang Katolikong ideolohiya sa mga Filipinong masasakop naman ng liberalistang pag-iisip ng mga Amerikano. Magpasangayo’y buhay na buhay ang mga parangal ni Urbana sa ‘baguntao’, mga paalalang marahil ay idinirekta ni de Castro sa mga henerasyon ng kabataan na (marahil sa palagay niya) nawawalan ng moralidad sa pagdaan ng panahon. E sa ngayon kaya? Mula sa Maynila papalabas sa kanayunan, patuloy ang ganitong edukasyon para sa isang marangal at sibilisadong kolonya. Ang liberal nilang pag-uugaling taliwas naman at mas maluwag kaysa sa disiplinadong asal ng mga Espanyol ang umiral sa bagong panahon. Tulad nga ng “update” ni Jose Javier Reyes sa akdang ito, makikita naman ang tahimik na pananakop ng Amerika sa kalungsuran na tahasan namang inilalapat ang sarili sa mga nayon, iniisa-isa ang mga probinsyanong naniniwalang nasa Maynila ang kanilang “pag-unlad”.

Sa Eskwelahan

Ang sulat ni Urbanang “Sa Eskwelahan” ay nagsasaad ng ilang mga paalala at pangaral para sa kapatid niyang si Honesto na papasok na sa paaralan. Maikli lamang ang sulat ngunit puno ng mga mensaheng talaga nama’y magagamit ng sinumang una palang papasok sa eskwela, lalo na sa mga pribadong paaralang mahigpit sa kani-kanilang mga regulasyon. Ito’y mga natutunan ni Urbana sa kanyang maestrang si Donya Prudencia na pinangaralan din ng mga Kastilang prupesor. Ang mga naipasang pangaral ay bunga ng labis na disiplinadong lapit sa pagtuturo at pageensayo ng mga gurong Espanyol sa mga Pilipino. Sa panahong iyon, ang karamihan sa mga guro ay binubuo ng mga Dominikong prayleng ginamit ang katekismo bilang primarya sa pagtuturo sa mga Pilipinong nasakop. Ang mga Pilipino’y hinulma sa panahong ito bilang mga ganap na disipulo ng Kastilang pamumuhay at siyempre labis itong nakasira sa pagpapanatili ng Pilipinong identidad sa sentro ng bansa. Ang edukasyon sa panahon ng Espanyol ay tungo sa benepisyo ng mananakop, upang ganap na maging kolonya ang bansa.

Ngunit kung titignan din sa kabilang banda, ang mga pangaral niyang ito ay tama rin naman. May respeto si Urbana sa mga usapan ng tao nang banggitin niyang “Sa lansangan ay huwag makikialam sa mga pulong at away na madaraanan” at ang ilang sumunod na talata kung saan sinasabi niyang huwag sumabat sa nakatatanda. Tinuturo ni Urbana ang mahusay na pakikipagkapwa na mula man sa pamamaraang Espanyol ay magagamit ninuman basta ba’y may ugnayan siya sa tao. At hindi ba’y nasa kaugalian na rin naman ng mga Pilipino ang paggalang sa nakatatanda? Itong mga parangal ni Urbana ay may malalimang pinagmulan – ang tinatawag ni Romulo P. Baquiran, Jr. (1996) na “lohikal na pagsasabay na pagpapanatili ng dalawang daigdig: isang inihaharap sa mga dayuhan at isang inilalaan para sa sarili”. Labis mang nabahiran ng kalungsuran, si Urbana ay ‘di lumayo sa tunay niyang kultura. At sa gitna ng sulat, idiniin ni Urbana na

Kundi matutuhan ay magtanong sa kapwa nag-aaral o sa maestro kaya, huwag mahihiya sapagka’t kung hiyas ng isang marunong ang sumangguni sa bait ng iba, ay kapurihan naman ng isang bata ang magtanong sa marurunong, sapagka’t napahahalata na ibig matuto’t maramtan ang hubad na isip, ng karununga’t kabaitan. (de Castro, 1946)

Di ninanais ni Urbanang maging sarado ang isipan kundi mapagmatyag at maalam, marahil isang munting rebolusyunaryong lapit sa pag-aaral na hindi basta tanggap lamang nang tanggap kundi bungkalin din ang tinuro para sa mas kumprehensibong pagkakaintindi nito. Sa mga ganitong paraan, napapakita ang pakikiapid din ng mga pilitang pinatahimik ng kolonyal na sistema.

Teknolohiya, Kababaihan at Edukasyon sa ngayon: The Updated Letters

Sa ginawa namang kakatwang makabagong bersyon ng Urbana at Felisa, pinakita ni Jose Javier Reyes ang mga “trend” sa Maynila ng dekada ‘oos na labis na ring nabahiran ng Americanization. Sa unang sulat, pinandidirihan ni Urbana ang kaugalian ng kababaihang “namantsahan ng kabalahuraan ng lungsod”. A niya, mga malalamya sila kumilos at walang galang sa kani-kanilang pagkababae. Samakatuwid, kontra si Urbana sa liberal na pag-uugali ng babae sa ngayon. Makikitang sa unang sulat ay nakabalot pa rin kay Urbana ang mga turo ni Donya Prudencia ngunit sa mga susunod na sulat ay nahawa na rin ang dalaga sa “uso”. Siya’y pala-inom na’t ‘di na masyadong nabigyan ng pansin ang pag-aaral, wala na ring pakialam sa kanyang gramatika’t paggamit ng wika. Ang akdang dati’y labis ang pag-aalala sa kinasasapitan ng kanyang mga kapatid kaya binibigyan ito ng pangaral ay naging akda na ng pansariling interes ng mga taong lungsod. Nasobrahan ang makabagong Urbana sa pagpapasarap dahil sa kanyang kalayaan sa Maynila at marahil siya naman dapat ang bigyan ng mga pangaral. Sa dulo’y mababasa lamang ang Updated Letters sa negatibong aspeto ng modernong kababaihan – ang malayang babaeng nakikipagsabayan na ngayon sa maraming larangang dati’y lalaki lamang ang binibigyan ng permiso. Ang kalayaan ng sekswalidad ay marahil isa pa ring isyu sa ngayon ngunit ‘di rin naman tamang saklawin ng depinisyon ni Urbana ang lahat ng babae sa lungsod bilang mga kerengkeng. Ang modernong babae’y mas matalino na rin kumpara sa panahon ni Modesto de Castro.

Kung babasahin ding maigi ang bawat sulat, mapapansin ang mga pagbabago sa teknolohiya ng komunikasyon: ang unang sulat ay tradisyunal na liham na ginamitan ng malalim na Tagalog; ang sumunod ay ganoon pa rin, Taglish nga lang ang pagsusulat ni Urbana (na kung tawagin na ang sarili ay “Bunny”); ang ikatlo’y ginamitan na ng computer – mapapansin ito sa spell check ng salitang “naman” na laging nagiging “naming” (marahil gamit niya ang Microsoft Word na programa); ang huli nama’y gumamit na siya ng “text messaging shortcuts” na umuso sa paglaganap ng Pilipinas bilang “Text Messaging Capital” ng mundo. Ang Americanization ng panahong ito’y kasabay din ng mabilisang pagbabago sa teknolohiya at malabisang pag-aangkop ng mga Pilipino dito.

Nakasaad sa maliliit na detalye ng update ni Jose Javier Reyes ang naidudulot ng pagpasok ng makabagong teknolohiya sa bansa. Nabanggit ni Bunny na patok daw sa Maynila ang HRM at MassComm – dalawang kursong tinitignan nang husto para sa mga “big time” na trabahong tulad ng call center at ang oportunidad makalipad abroad upang magsilbi sa mga banyagang hotel, barko o restaurant. Uso sa panahon ng 2000s (at hanggang ngayon) ang mga pag-aaral na makapaglilingkod sa ibang bansa, katulad na rin ng nursing. Naging “in demand” tuloy ang mga ganitong kurso, inaalam pa nga kung sinong pinakamagaling saka hahanapan ng trabaho sa Canada, Amerika o kung saan pa. Sa pagpasok ng bagong dekadang 2010s, tinulak pa lalo ng administrasyong Aquino ang potensiyal ng ganitong edukasyon gamit ang K+12. Dito’y madadagdagan ang mga taon sa elementarya at sekondaryang edukasyon sa paglalayong mabigyan sila ng mas sapat na kakayahan sa pagtatrabaho. Ang modelo ng K+12 ay hango sa sistema ng maraming banyagang bansa kaya naman napaghahalataan ding layon talaga ng pamahalaang magpadala ng mga Pilipino sa ibang bansa upang paglingkuran ito. Ayon sa artikulo nina Anne Marxze Umil at Igal Jada San Andres sa Bulatlat (2012):

“What the K to 12 system will do is reinforce cheap semi-skilled youth labor for the global market. The DepEd talks of a so-called ‘professionalization’ of the young labor force mainly for labor markets abroad but unfortunately continues to ignore the very causes of forced migration, namely, lack of local jobs, low wages and landlessness,” said Garry Martinez, chairman of Migrante. He said the K to 12 system sadly undermines the youth’s very significant role in nation-building because it is geared toward providing cheap semi-skilled and unskilled youth labor to the global market instead of for domestic development. “Young workers, mostly semi-skilled and unskilled, make up approximately 10.7 percent of the total Filipino labor migrant population. Through the K to 12, the government will further program our youth not to serve the country but to service the needs of the neoliberal global market,” said Martinez.

Tulad noong panahon ng Urbana at Felisa, ang sistema ng edukasyon sa ngayon ay nanganganib muling dumirekta hindi sa ikabubuti ng bayan kundi sa benepisyo ng mga banyaga. ‘Di ito nakatutuwang pagbabago, sapagka’t imbis na mapabuti ang kalagayan ng Pilipinas ay mas uunahin pa ng kabataan ang paglilingkod sa ibang bayan. Sa ganitong pamamaraa’y ‘di halatang inilulublob nanaman ang kamalayan ng makabagong Pilipino sa mga ideolohiyang ‘di nila gagap at tiyak ay dadalhin na rin nila sa pagtanda’t ipapasa sa mga ‘baguntao’.

Si Urbana nga naman noon at ngayon ay isang subersibong nilalang, labis nang nilunod sa impluwensiya ng kolonyalismo kaya ang nilalaman ng kanyang mga sulat ay kung ano’ng kanyang natutunan. Marahil mahalaga ring magbago naman at mamulat na si Urbana sa katotohanan at magsulat para sa ikabubuti ng kanyang mga kapatid, ng kanyang bayan. Nakikita kong kaya niyang labanan ang kolonyal na pag-iisip at umusbong sa kanyang pagkalulong kung itutulak lang niya ang sarili nang husto. Kung iba lang ang ipapangaral niya – ang pagkamulat ng kanyang mga kapatid – marahil ay higit pa sa isang “book of manners” ang mailikha. Kailangan na natin ng bagong (at progresibong) Urbana!

Mga Sanggunian:

de Castro, P. D. M. (1996). Pagsusulatan nang dalauang binibini na si urbana at ni felisa. R. P. Baquiran, Jr.                     (Ed.) Quezon City: Sentro ng Wikang Filipino, Sistemang University of the Philippines Diliman at                                         National Commission for Culture and the Arts

de Castro, P. D. M. (1946). Urbana at felisa: Aklat na katututuhan ng gintong aral. J. Martinez (Ed.)                                                        Manila: Aklatang J. Martinez

Reyes, J.J. (2008). The updated letters of urbana and felisa. In J. Zafra (Ed.), The Flip reader : being a geatest                                                          hits anthology from flip : the official guide to world domination. (pp. 183-187). Pasig City: Anvil Pub.

Umil, A. M. D. & Andres, I.J. (2012). Two years is an added burden – parents. Bulatlat Online. Retrieved                              September 8, 2012 from http://bulatlat.com/main/2012/05/30/two-years-is-an-added-burden---parents/

HORROR FROM THE MARGINS

SHAKE RATTLE AND ROLL 13 (2011)

Tamawo

Directed by Richard Somes

Written by Richard Somes, Aloy Adlawan, Jules Katanyag

Starring Maricar Reyes, Bugoy Carino, Zanjoe Marudo, Celia Rodriguez

Parola

Directed by Jerrold Tarog

Written by Jerrold Tarog, Aloy Adlawan, Maribel Ilag, Roselle Monteverde

Starring Kathryn Bernardo, Louise delos Reyes, Sam Concepcion, Ina Reymundo, Ara Mina, Lloyd Samartino

Rain Rain Go Away

Directed by Chris Martinez

Written by Marlon N. Rivera, Chris Martinez

Starring Eugene Domingo, Jay Manalo, Edgar Allan Guzman, Boots Anson-Roa, Perla Bautista

It is often argued that the spotlight of local mainstream cinema at the moment is no longer at the marginalized groups of society (the poor, indigenous people, militant groups, etc.) but at the privilege of the ruling class. It’s a saddening case then that the cries of real oppression are muted in favor of success stories via commercial achievements (the middle-class ideal for accomplishment) and the sugary narratives of boy-meets-girl. But for the genre known to make oppressive forces pay, local horror never neglected the marginalized. In fact, modern issues still have a special place in the heart of the grotesque. Such is the case here in SHAKE RATTLE AND ROLL 13, Regal’s annual horror treat for the Metro Manila Film Festival. (Still) chopped up to three narratives, this time it’s about a family who retreat to the idyll province (“Tamawo”), a revival of a dead friendship (“Parola”) and the horrors done by the 2009 storm Ondoy to rich factory owners (“Rain, Rain Go Away”). The film is no departure in terms of form. I’ve always thought that the cleancut digital quality of Regal’s visuals is anticlimactic compared to the earlier films’ mood and atmosphere. In fact, the content is quite familiar too. Since the MMFF is seen as an event offered for family bonding, the supposedly last installment of the horror franchise is all about families. But it’s not without its twisted reflections of contemporary social ills.

All episodes focus on the ideal family model: father and mother with their children try to cope with changes in their new situations. The family in “Tamawo” traveled from Manila to the stateside because the father finds the city chaotic, while the couple in “Rain, Rain Go Away” tries to cope up from the horrors of the nightmarish storm by building a new factory and retrying their chances at having a child. The bond of two families in the middle episode “Parola” would be disrupted by a secret affair. It is the disruption of the family’s peace that would let the horrors push through, but unlike “Parola”, the bookend episodes are haunted by the unrecognized marginalized groups of people. The tamawos are supernatural forces that stood in for indigenous people in the provinces. Years ago, their crystal has been stolen by a mortal who buried the treasure under a nipa hut. In the contemporary period, the tamawos threatens a family to bring out the treasure which the father actually discovered and hid. Only when the son offered himself as a sacrifice that the remaining members of the family achieve peace.

The third episode is direct in handling a much more recent issue regarding Metro Manila – floods. In “Rain, Rain Go Away”, a couple is haunted by ghosts of child laborers who drowned by Ondoy floods when they were locked-up in the old plastic ware factory owned by the rich couple. Thinking the horror has past, the rich couple found a new home and built a new factory (in a manner reminiscent of Imelda Marcos after the incident at the Manila Film Center). But the ghosts of the workers haunted the family and even took the lives of their relatives.

If this really is the last installment of the franchise then it managed to update audiences of recent circumstances occurring both in rural and urban sectors. A line from “Tamawo” has addressed the woes of indigenous people regarding the proceedings in mining (especially around Palawan). “Halos lahat ng bagay sa mundo ay nasa inyo na! ‘Eto na lang ang amin, papakialaman niyo pa!” said one of the tamawos in their conversation with the father. It is pitiful of course because what we thought of as a crystal was actually an egg that is carrying a premature embryo – the last member of the tamawos. The film has industrialization and modern society to blame for all the troubles done to the tribe. The relationship between the upper and the lower classes would be much more direct in the third episode. Child laborers were selfishly locked by the couple so they wouldn’t escape the job as makers of plastic containers. Plastic of course is known as the ultimate culprit to the flooding of the cities. That’s why plastic bans have started in different cities in the metro, though not all. The overproduction done by the capitalist couple in the film is the reason why the deaths and the eventual haunting occurred.

By putting our sympathies at the losses of the bourgeois family, it is easy to overlook the situation of the abject monsters/ghosts. These families sit pretty in their houses and when unfavorable incidents arouse (such as natural calamities), they selfishly save themselves and let the others die. But like the Ondoy victims in the third episode, the margins have their own way of returning. The film has bourgeois families (or people who can afford to watch Php150-200 worth of movie tickets) as target audiences and these audiences relate to the problems of the families they watch. But listen closely to the line said by the maid in the final episode “Makakalimutan natin ang lahat pero ang mga patay… hindi sila nakakalimot!”. We may stay at our comfort zones for long, but the ones from the margins will continue to haunt us until their voices are heard.

THE REVENGE OF THE FORGOTTEN

Kimmy Dora and the Temple of Kiyeme

Alas, the new Eugene Domingo film was another crowd-pleasing success. It is expectedly so since Eugene, after numerous accolades and a string of noteworthy comedic performances, has established herself as the new It-girl of local cinema, a megastar. Kimmy Dora and the Temple of Kiyeme for the second time around was carried by her very theatrical performances (she played three roles). But this one’s pretty inferior. The laughs weren’t louder than the first and despite having a more adventurous plot and gag-filled mishaps, the script felt more predictable. The production was at least an improvement, letting Eugene enjoy the costumes and the audiences enjoy the beauty of Korean culture. Gags aside, the very departure of the film is its inclusion of a horror element. Employing this for additional spice, the film also introduces a relevant feat of repression. So the plot goes like this: the Goh Dong Hae family experiences the haunting of a deceased family friend who happens to be the patriarch’s (played by Ariel Ureta) Korean ex-girlfriend. The spirit goes on to take the souls of the men in Kimmy and Dora’s lives and the twins must let her soul rest in peace in order to retrieve the souls of their father and boyfriends (Zanjoe Marudo and Dingdong Dantes). 


It can be argued that the horror element of vengeful ghost is only an excuse for conflict in an otherwise predictable comedy. This aside, the film extinguishes the eruptions that could’ve given the film a little more action. Consider Kimmy’s frustrations of taking responsibility for almost all the family’s mishaps. This has been the issue of her character since the first film. Towards the end of the sequel, she is still the only one who seems to be providing solutions for the film’s major problems. Kimmy is an independent working woman who represents a new high regard for the working Filipina in the corporate ladder. Domingo portrays her with frosty bitchiness a la Meryl Streep’s Miranda Priestley with emotional troubles and desire for only money and success. It’s also interesting how the anguished female ghost takes back hilariously at the men. Her needs were taken for granted as the story left her side for the horror one. The horror story conflict is resolved and we are left once again with escapist bourgeois comedy. Since the film isn’t really interested in feminism, well what other issues could this film raise?


Let’s return to the ghost itself. The reason for its horrific rage was because Mr. Go Dong Hae left her as an adolescent and married a Filipina when he chose to study in the Philippines. This Korean girl Sang Kang Kang (cosplayer Alodia Gosiengfiao) locked herself up in her room to die. The choice of the Korean man isn’t much of a surprise for the contemporary Filipino setting where a “Korean invasion” has been occurring in the past decade. Sun Star Cebu (2011) reports “in 2010, Koreans overtook Americans as the biggest group of foreigners to visit the Philippines. More than 740,000 Koreans visited the Philippines last year, accounting for 21 percent of all foreign tourist arrivals, according to the Department of Tourism.” Koreans enjoy life here in the Philippines because they can absolutely afford it. And with their continuous travels to the country, a cultural shift may take place. Kimmy and Dora themselves are what Sun.Star Cebu calls the “Kopinos”, the Korean-Filipino children born from the previous generations of the two countries’ budding relationship. They are even bound to continue the two countries’ relationship by forcefully marrying a Korean tycoon’s son, which was comically lifted because the groom-to-be is a gluttonous damulag.


But then also, what could this imply on Filipinos? You dare not ask for the obvious: we are enjoying a great deal of Korean culture. From pop music (KPop), “Koreanovelas” to Korean restaurants and shops, well it is indeed a subtle invasion. It only piles up to our own colonial mentality, especially the teenage group. 


Sang Kang Kang’s vengefulness is a Korean response to this Kopino phenomenon. An interesting fact about her is that she is a part of the ethnic groups of their country. One could imagine how disappointed the uncolonized Koreans are to the ones who left for newer lifestyles elsewhere. Of course, the film ends on a positive note. The ghost was cast away and they failed to please their father’s insistence of a continuation of Korean-Filipino relationship (coz after all, it was only all about money). If only the horror element of a vengeful forgotten culture has been taken seriously, we would have seen a modern horror film that challenges the negative outcome of Korean-Filipino ties.


References:


Sun.Star Cebu. (2011). Help on the way for Kopinos in Cebu. Retrieved August 20, 2012 from http://www.sunstar.com.ph/cebu/local-news/2011/03/13/help-way-kopinos-cebu-144575

AFTERTHOUGHTS ON “Women and Gays in a Zombie-infested Paradise (review of ZOMBADINGS)”

The dynamism of film is forever a mystery to the avid viewer of cinema. What was once a well-beloved classic has been proven to be a mediocre and cheesy film from a period that is gravely important to document in the books. Such is my impression with Jade Castro’s ZOMBADINGS, a film that at first seems like a total hands-down moment for the local LGBT community made in a time when views on gender and sexuality have been shifting – until it proved to be not.



It all started when I heard from Jade Castro himself in a screening of the film. According to him, he was inspired by the film AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (by John Landis, 1981) where a “man is being transformed into something he’s not”. Remington is indeed a young man “cursed” into homosexuality (from a mental illness, now a curse!) and only the power of a straight father who has not bed a single twink can save him. I get the picture, but when you realize he’s likening a live human being (a label gay activists have been fighting for decades to be treated as) to a monster is something else. Well I get it - monsters and gays are both considered “other” in a clean-cut patriarchal society. FRANKENSTEIN, Ricky Lee’s AMAPOLA... it’s all over popular culture. But do we really have to repeat that notion and translate it into a film that is very unsubtle yet also problematic about the whole gay issue?



Enter the case of camp. As he said so in interviews, Castro intended ZOMBADINGS to be camp. There was Roland Tolentino’s review of the film that questioned this. He says here

Hindi pwedeng magsimula ang isang proyekto na maging camp. Kailangan itong maging resulta o in hindsight na persepsyon. Hindi ako lalabas ng bahay bilang stereotipong parloristang bading dahil hindi ito magreresulta sa “dobleng camp.” Mananamit ako, at dahil labis ang pabalat na ukay-ukay o high fashion, halimbawa, maari akong maging camp.

Ang Zombadings ay mulat na camp, ito ay campy pero hindi camp. Ang nangyari sa pagpapatingkad ng proyektong maging camp ay negation ng camp. Walang irony o disjuncture sa dalawang pinagtatapat na mundo dahil naglapat ang pagpapatawa (intensyonalidad at resultang primaryo sa box-office) sa object ng pagpapatawa (ang kabadingan). (2011)

He ends the review by stating that ZOMBADINGS only reinforced stereotypes. Remington was a mere reinforcement of the “screaming faggot” stereotype that must be abolished in the straight man’s way. “Nag-kwento lang, at nag-reaffirm ng kwento”. It has pandered to a serious issue for some beef and ended up laughing at it.

From what I know, the best camp films didn’t initially intend themselves to be camp, because the label’s supposed to be what a film is avoiding – to become a joke. Yet the praise the previous camp films had influenced the Aughts in a way. It made a new generation of filmmakers go for the lessons of the past and imitate a trend, try to recreate an effect that would score an audience. Yes of course, it had its moments of pure gay eye and ear candy. Yet upon having all these bloated ideas exploding, the advocacy turned out to be lip service. You can ask the film itself – are you or aren’t you?


ZOMBADINGS is at times celebratory yet at times still brutally homophobic, and it ends up where it started – gays are still sissies looked at as a joke. It’s very problematic and unaware of what it stands for. The kid in the last scene says it all. He sees a golden gay walking on the street. The kid stops and points at him, telling his mom “Bakla, oh”. Just when you thought a negative remark would be blurted out, he immediately praises him with a face utterly forced to say “Ang gandaaa”. Would that be a sign of change? As Tolentino said, it is indeed still a big box of a film entrapping homosexuals into traits and keeping them there. The makers of ZOMBADINGS only made it taste so sweet. - Gio Potes, September 2012




Reference:

Tolentino, R. (2011). Mulat na camp at kawalan ng irony. Retrieved July 11, 2012 from http://pinoyweekly.org/new/2011/10/mulat-na-camp-at-kawalan-ng-irony/

MYTH OF JAPANESE HEROISM

THE DAWN OF FREEDOM (1944)

Contemporary audiences are used to the stories of lolos and lolas about their encounters with Japanese soldiers. They easily dismiss the WWII as a grueling period caused by Jap soldiers who are destructive and atrocious. Even history tells us so because it is in the consensus of all these stories that the 3-4 years of Japanese occupation was a devastating moment in our history. As people living seven decades after the Occupation, we rely on these accounts and consider them as facts. But it is of course, a matter of perspective. The Americans who “saved” us from the Japanese are in for their condemnation because they were also bombed by the superpower, plus they have a colonizing agenda. But what if you ask what the Japanese thought about it? Enter THE DAWN OF FREEDOM (1944).

The film starts with a devastating introduction – the declaration of Manila as an “Open City”. From there, we proceed to two narratives woven together: one is the war encounters of Andres Gomez; the other is about his kid brother Tony’s friendship with a kind Jap soldier. Andres who was once faithful to the American flag found his way to the Japanese army after a brief encounter and belittlement from his leaders. When he left his home in Manila, his brother Tony was crippled by an automobile driven by an American officer but a Japanese soldier he befriends him and sends him to a doctor to ease his condition. It all ends with smiles as the Japanese lead the Filipinos to their progress as a people.  Well DAWN OF FREEDOM is, above its dragging war genre excess, a typical melodrama with a touching bromance between a kid and a father-like soldier, a working Filipino and the Japanese army, colonizer and colonized. It’s not an easy watch of course – available copies are now rough and inaudible with only Japanese subtitles functioning as a guide (it’s quite obvious who the target audience is, too). But the work on its music is quite masterful especially in the scene where Tony stands up from his wheelchair to reveal the miracle his Japanese friend has blessed him. It is undoubtedly a sappy textbook example of an MMK episode. Perhaps a macho AFFAIR TO REMEMBER, too?

So now the issue is this: what did the Japanese want to do? Despite a prominent Filipino director (Gerardo de Leon), it was very apparent that the Japanese were all over this puppet show. According to Video 48 (2011):

 It was the Japanese policy to push the goals of the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere. According to Rico Jose in his article, “The Dawn of Freedom and Japanese Wartime Propaganda”, the Japanese had three aims: to unmask the Americans as the real enemies and to eradicate their influences; to emphasize Japan’s role as the leader of Asia; and especially with regard to Filipinos, to recover the native character lost due to years of Occidental colonization. Because it was highly popular, film was used as an instrument of propaganda.

It was Japan’s aim to mask their colonizing agenda by antagonizing the Americans (something the latter has done a lot more subtly). From the American automobile that crippled Tony to the brutalities done by white soldiers to the Filipinos, it’s a powerful early anti-American statement. The Japanese have successfully made it appear that they’re indeed heroic towards Filipinos they “freed”, at least in cinematic terms. Then again freedom doesn’t mean independence. We may seem free from Americans but we still depended on an imperialist. And as a whole big scheme of media control and control via media, the Japanese saw the rising Philippine cinema’s potential (it has been argued that the 1930s saw an early golden age for Philippine films, if only the prints survived the war) and they used it as a tool for propaganda and colonization. A contradiction so obvious it was bound to fail.

While these plans shone through DAWN OF FREEDOM, it shouldn’t be denied that the Japanese also did rather good things for the Filipinos by sharing and teaching their values (to the children especially) and educating the people in their own ways. What really caught my attention was the beautiful friendship between Tony and the Japanese soldier Ikejima. They had this certain chemistry, a bond so heartwarming I didn’t want them to part. I said before that Tony’s miraculous scene was overtly melodramatic, but once a shot of Ikejima smiling back was shown, it is suggested through that very sequence that the war should be pushed aside for the bright side of Japanese occupation: a brief but beautiful friendship. It was this simple friendship that’s the real driving force behind the false heroism of DAWN OF FREEDOM. That may be the smallest glimpse of appreciation, in a whole big book of complaints and horrific stories.

References:

Video 48. (2011). The war years (1942-45): Part two/ propaganda movies. Retrieved September 1, 2012 from http://video48.blogspot.com/2011/03/war-years-1942-45-part-two-propaganda.html

Pinoy Kollektor. (2011). Dawn of freedom – Philippine wwii movie.  Retrieved September 1, 2012 from http://pinoykollektor.blogspot.com/2011/10/48-dawn-of-freedom-philippine-wwii.html

Torre, N. (2011). Philippine cinema’s ‘golden ages’ debated anew. Retrieved September 1, 2012 from http://agimat.net/film/n110322.php

STAR CINEMA’S PERIOD HORROR STRUGGLES

Derek Ramsey is not a good actor. But he managed to be present in Star Cinema’s three latest movies that marked departures from its tiresome formulas: the first was One More Chance (2008) which showed the production giant’s care for feminist politics since Sana Maulit Muli (not to mention a more realistic approach in handling modern relationships); then there was the Temptation Island-wannabe No Other Woman (2011), a film that introduced adulterous sexual themes to their mainstream but new lows for anything in Philippine cinema; and lastly, this year’s much talked-about horror Corazon: Ang Unang Aswang (2012). Like One More Chance, Corazon’s fullpotential gets tangled up in the Star Cinema-ness of the production. But it is a departure nonetheless.

The plot was rather simple: Corazon (Erich Gonzales, in a convincingly campy performance), a barrio lass married to Daniel (Ramsey), lives in a post-war hacienda plagued by the Japanese soldiers, then a greedy landlord (Mark Gil) and finally a monstrously anguished female (guess who?). The root of the last one is Corazon’s own failure of delivering a son for Daniel. She becomes crazy and starts eating the children of their hacienda only to be chased away by the townsfolk. All is well.

Aesthetically, the film is a triumph in milieu. The setting perfectly captured my lola’s stories about the rurals fresh from the Japanese Occupation. But what I noticed prominently in the film is the clash between the styles of director Richard Somes (an indie favorite who made Yanggaw, also a horror film set in the province) and his Star Cinema collaborators that affected the rest of the film. For the example, Somes did surreal fast editing in scenes like Corazon’s demise. But it just looked awkward in the middle of teleserye-style technicals. This conflict affected the narrative too. Star Cinema’s love ideals always seem to interrupt the horror film’s plot. I thought it was abundant with romance cliches that it lacked subtlety as a horror film. Somes’ direction seemed upstaged by the dominant Star Cinema style. You can imagine the producers nagging at the director’s ear during both principal photography and post-production.

I guess Star Cinema was very hungry for a different kind of horror that they just squeezed the ideas of Richard Somes to help them conceive a turning point for the studio. Like last year’s Segunda Mano, the film proves (and even spells out before the credits) that a monster is not born but created. The “halimaw” image is all in the mind and Corazon, the “aswang” shows that the transformation of the woman to flesh-eating lunatic is due to her own anguish. This “anguish” is the result of many troublesome factors - perhaps it’s the villagers’ condemnation of her as a pre-slut, her inability to produce a child for Daniel (especially after performing tiring rituals), the atrocities experienced by the town during the war, or all of the above. But probably and most powerful of it all, it’s a woman’s revenge. Filipinos are well-aware of women’s condition during the war. They were raped, horribly tortured and their children were violently bayoneted in front of them. Her use of the boar as a costume for her nightly attacks calls to mind the historical significance of the animal during this period (Guerilla’s used the boar’s head to scare the Japanese away, while women use the boar’s blood to blot it on their underwear, thus avoiding rape).

One silenced subplot of the film is the growing antagonism of the landlord to the workers. Rarely would you find such class struggle in a Star Cinema film. But then, this struggle was put to bed when Corazon attacked. Their switch of antagonist is notable, too - if you can’t blame the greedy capitalist, why not target the crazy woman? Once again, Star Cinema’s feminist views seemed to be in question.

The final scenes seemed very symbolic enough: Daniel, after killing the landlord who burned his house and tried to kill his wife, gets back on the capitalist and gets chased away by his minions; Corazon, on the other hand, was chased by the male villagers because of her monstrosity. This symbolic couple (perhaps the proletarian and the anguished female?) left this plagued village to reach a destination all for themselves, and nobody ever heard from them ever again.

The horror genre is notable for its direct reflection of the turbulence of the period it depicts. Corazon: Ang Unang Aswang, for its departure from bourgeois culture and focus on post-war Philippines, is a rare horror film that at least tries to prove that in the local movie industry. Nice try, Star Cinema. - Gio Potes, May 2012

Women and Gays in a Zombie-infested Paradise.

What I love about Zombadings 1: Patayin sa Shokot si Remington is, of course, how it views Philippine homosexuality. But even though it's much more sugar-coated than, say, Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros or Ang Lihim ni Antonio and its political undertones are taken rather silently, it is among those rare movies today that acknowledges feminism as an essential part of LGBT. It's the year's perfect counterattack to the dreadfully anti-feminist barfbag No Other Woman (which curiously became the second top-grossing film in the country last year).

I smiled throughout this movie for its escapist nature. Set in a fictional Lucban, it is an unconventional fairy tale. The police officers make up of mostly trustworthy women. The gays are still the community fairies who design these ladies into Cinderellas. And the straight men are prominently lazy gents who populate the household, unless paid. Remington comes from the last group but a childhood curse turns him into a twink. And the resolution was a father-son sacrifice that would make a closet queen smile.






The film is escapist for members of the LGBT. It presents something far from the mainstream where mothers must stay home and the gays hide. But here, it's a happy place for gays and women. It may not draw closer to realism but the intentions of its filmmakers is noteworthy. They made Zombadings an allegorical film, turning the gay revolution into a mob of the undead ready to eat heterosexual flesh. Despite this, it seems only the young Remington and the gaydar-touting Daniel Fernando enjoy gay-bashing. The entire community of the fictional Lucban doesn't even see the gays as a threat. They acknowledge the abilities of the fairies from hair styling to housekeeping. In fact, if the women play the cops, the gays take over their responsibilities at home as housemaids. And then from normal, the gay community is even glorified. When Remington decides that he wants to remain gay, Lauren Young tells him he can't because the gays she know fight everyday for love and acceptance - something she believes he can't do. It might be too substantial but it's enough for a gay rights banter. If you think the film's gayness is fake then maybe that line alone will be the most honest. And I would eternally quote it. Don't leave the film during the credits for an even more elaborate message from Angelina Canapi.

Zombadings presents a fictional world where equality reigns and people are happy. Boy would I stay in such a world. But then again I realized - in time (perhaps not too distant from now) that Lucban will be real. - Gio Potes, May 2012.






Directed by Jade Castro. Written by Jade Castro, Raymond Lee & Michiko Yamamoto. Starring Martin Escudero, Lauren Young, Kerbie Zamora, Janice de Belen, John Regala, Angelina Canapi, Daniel Fernando, Roderick Paulate.


Full credits: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1810861/fullcredits#writers



The Elitist's Shit

ANG BABAE SA SEPTIC TANK (2011)

A cream of 2011’s indie crop, Marlon Rivera’s “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” turns the current Philippine indie scene to its head. Successful at the box office (probably because of its strong Star Cinema promotion), the film is both a critique and an exploitation of the “formulas” building up in the vaults of internationally-lauded Filipino films: films about poverty. It is an ultimate testament to the industry’s (if there ever was such an “independent film industry”) boredom of tackling poverty issues that the filmmakers fictionalized here can’t decide on how they’re going to sell the story – a gritty docudrama, a glossy musical or a movie-star vehicle?


It all revolves around an “ordinary Thursday” of a distracted mother named Mila who eats only a pack of instant noodles for lunch with her seven kids, one of which ends up being sold to a Caucasian pedophile much to the disgrace but money-hunger of the mother. Two rich filmmakers (Kean Cipriano and JM de Guzman) argue all over everything from script to poster, probably because they know the material is shit (its working title is “Walang Wala” for a reason). Soon enough, they are triggered by their envy of a fellow but lesser and grammar-Nazied filmmaker who just came home from the Venice Film Festival, and inspired by their dream of Oscar wins and, most of all, by the star who loved their script: Eugene Domingo.


As Bienvenido Lumbera observed, the real driving force behind film productions of today lies in the image of the bankable star. The film underlines that with Eugene’s satirical portrayal of herself. All the confusions and arguments of the filmmakers were immediately dropped when the deal of Eugene’s involvement was settled. Hence the film? It was envisioned as her own, with product placements and all emphasis on the star’s image. It is a performance Domingo will undoubtedly be known for, subtly balancing the wit of a comedienne superstar and the realistic drama of a struggling mother (did I mention that the latter was framed in three contrasting versions?). The supporting cast is nothing but back-up dancers to her show. Cipriano and de Guzman are mere channels of Rivera and Chris Martinez (the film’s writer) but probably the most notable element in that background is the one with no dialogue at all: Jocelyn (played by Cai Cortez). It was not a remarkable presence but the Jocelyn character is a rare addition to this portrait of show business - she is the audience eavesdropping to the ideas blurted out by the producer, director and star. She’s passive and subversive to the film dudes but with her, we imagine these ideas in our own movie fantasies and react to them. Jocelyn is a reminder of the filmmakers’ consideration of the consumers, which is (and should be) a relevant point. But to the star, the audience is barely as important. “Nandyan ka pala!” said Eugene upon spotting this silent observer sitting on her million-dollar couch.


When I saw the film for the first time in a recent Cinematheque screening, I was joined by a small group of obviously rich business men who laughed hysterically at the struggles of the elitist filmmakers. Maybe it’s unbeknownst to them that they were laughing at themselves. This is a movie about the elitist’s shit, how he intends to capitalize on stories he thinks are important and sells it using guaranteed money-making formulas. He exploits the lives of these poor people and in the end, he wouldn’t do anything about it. Nothing big really happens but profit and inclusions to official festival selections. It is a satire directly hinted at the same people who’ll never learn.


The commercial and critical success of “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank” is timely. The indie film satire signifies the continuing rise of the Philippine independent cinema. It reminds me of film history, when one independent filmmaker slapped the norms of the industry with a provocative film entitled “Pagdating sa Dulo”. Though, in time it will most likely be forgotten for its politics since by then, the indie film would’ve moved on to fresher themes, new-found success and worse conflicts. And also by then, the target of darting satire in the film would’ve been sitting pretty in the mainstream. I wonder if Brillante Mendoza has seen it. - Gio Potes, December 2011

References:

1. Lumbera, B. (2011). Re-viewing Filipino cinema. Mandaluyong City:

                             Anvil Publishing Inc.

2. IMDb - The woman in the septic tank (2011). (n.d). Retrieved

                             from http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1961179/