Sinag Maynila 2016 - three films

Sinag Maynila, a brainchild of Solar Entertainment head Wilson Tieng and acclaimed filmmaker Brillante Mendoza and in cooperation with SM Cinemas, is now on its second year (April 21-26). And as in its first edition, it again showcases five new feature films from some of the country's exciting directors. Let's take a look at those films. 

• "Mrs." by Adolf Alix, Jr., writer: Ralston Jover

This film is about an elderly woman (Elizabeth Oropesa) who lives alone in an old ancestral house, with no other companion but her household help (Lotlot de Leon), who is pregnant and about to get married. We eventually learn that she's a grieving mother, whose activist son has long become a desaparecido. And yet, she still longs for the day when she'll once again see her son, whether dead or alive. While at this, she also has to deal with a sister (Daria Ramirez) who owes her a huge debt and a daughter (Rosanna Roces) who has just joined a religious cult. Add to this is the situation itself of her housemaid, whose marriage didn't push through as the man is actually married to another woman already (Sharmaine Arnaiz). 

Apparently, this is a woman's film, especially if we consider that, except for the occasional "appearance" of the missing son, there are no other male characters here. It's even Bergmanesque in its evocation of a setting (the old house) and how it presents the interaction of the two women within that space. However, "Mrs." doesn't really aspire to be something like "Persona" or "Cries & Whispers": there's no actual power dynamics or question of identities or existential crises here. Truth is, we're really not quite sure what the film is trying to say or where it is headed. The director and the writer, Ralston Jover, seem to keep everything in an "abstract" state, not so much to explore some philosophical questions as to do so merely for its own sake. That the film also attempts to enter the realm of the bizarre (just like in "Porno" and "Kalayaan") by way of the "earthquake fault-line" that straddles through where the old house stands doesn't quite advance or enhance the story in any possible way. Is the film making a political stance (through the desaparecido storyline)? Or is it a study in grief and loneliness (as what Oropesa's character and situation seem to evoke)? Or is it just a slice of life from the relationship between master and servant? Or is it a little bit of everything? Even with an economical running-time of 82 minutes, "Mrs." doesn't make it fully clear. 

• "Dyamper" by Mes de Guzman, writer: De Guzman 

The film's title refers to a trio of road bandits in the province of Nueva Vizcaya (Alchris Galura, Timothy Mabalot, Carlo Aquino) who wait for cargo trucks passing the highway during night-time and then "jump" on them to steal the goods they are carrying. Everything seems to be going through without a hitch - until one truck driver catches them which puts their lives at risk. The story sounds like a simple enough crime tale, complete with punishment and redemption. Only it's not. 

We already sense that the film won't be traversing a common path when at the start, we see what appears to be a film crew asking a farmer about a specific road or route and then eventually asking him if he wants to be part of a movie, to the farmer's surprise (he is to be the truck driver later on in the film). This bit of meta-fiction isn't really in any way referred back to in the subsequent course of the film nor is it made to have any bearing on the film's progression. This initial step towards absurdity - the mood itself - is what will actually inform the entire film. The absurdist strain is closer in vein to a Kaurismäki droll comedy (for example, "Leningrad Cowboys Go America"). That being said, more than being a morality play about honor and conscience among thieves or a social treatise on the economic way of life in the provinces, "Dyamper" seems to take delight in the infinite possibilities of cinematic storytelling itself. Thus, the film is more technique than content, aesthetics than substance. Even the use of black-and-white cinematography (by Albert Banzon and Vincent Labrador) and a distinct aspect ratio savors the magic of cinema and filmmaking. This cinematic mischievousness is closer to the director's own "Sitio" than "Ang Kuwento ni Mabuti" (both released in 2013). In the hands of a lesser filmmaker, such tendency may prove to be inconsequential and pretentious. But De Guzman's freewheeling confidence and verve in handling his material lend the film a unique charm and sensibility. Either we take the film seriously or we simply take in the joke and savor all the sweetness and light. 

• "TPO" by Joselito Altarejos, writers: Archie del Mundo and Altarejos 

The film tells the story of a young couple (Oliver Aquino and Mara Lopez) who goes into a custodial battle over their son prompted by the husband's constant physical abuse of his wife. The court grants a temporary protection order (the TPO of the title), which leans towards the wife's favor as it commands the husband to physically stay away from the former to protect her from further abuse. Along with this, the wife is able to get the custody of their son. However, after being challenged by the husband on "psychological reasons", the custody is eventually won by him. 

According to the director, the film is part of his planned trilogy on domestic abuse (the first being "Ang Lihim ni Antonio") and given the sensitive nature of the subject, the film could be ripe for contention and confrontation. However, Altarejos chooses to tell this story of marital abuse and discord as austerely as possible. With a camera rigidly immobile and fixed on the actors in long or medium shots (a framing that recalls a Roy Andersson tableaux) and a non-linear timeline (we initially thought that the film was being told backwards, ala-Ozon's "5x2"), the events before, during and after the legal battle unfold unhurriedly and quietly before our own eyes, even showing just a single scene of actual wife-beating. Ironically, the effect is one of distance than involvement, which puts us in the place of objective spectators instead of inquisitive onlookers. We slowly get to learn how the husband actually behaves within the household and is being treated by his parents, how the son is being crushed by his parents' separation and how the wife is in fact fragile and helpless in the face of her in-laws' condescension once the legal incident has been brought up. Though no such thing really exists in our court proceedings, we, the audience, become a kind of "jury" who observes the details and facts first before making a final judgment. "TPO" is not so much about the bureaucracy and class division involved in such legal squabbles (ala-Zhang Yimou's "The Story of Qiu Ju"), as about the personal and intimate stories behind such squabbles. On the one hand, this kind of "intimacy" may have the consequence of us not being fully able to have a grasp of the main legal issue involved. On the other hand, it allows us to see the humanity behind the systematic presentation of facts. Depending on how each of us prefers to look at the side of the coin, "TPO" could be a hit or miss. 

Three arthouse fares in this year's Sinag Maynila