Juana C. the Movie (2013)

Juana C. the Movie (Jade Castro, 2013)

An actress mainly for theater for several years, Mae Paner landed her greatest role when she, along with a ragtag team of advocate artists including esteemed playwright Rody Vera and other theater performers, uploaded a video on YouTube in 2008. The video features Juana Change, a full-bodied woman played with such infectious rabidity by Paner, playfully lampooning issues hounding Philippine society then.

Paner has the look of the great Filipino comediennes of old, the Zoraida Sanchezes and the Nanette Inventors, who proudly parade their unusual beauty and trademark heft, to turn themselves into actual jokes instead of just deliverers of jokes. Paner understands the value of attention she gets. She mesmerizes with the curves she utilizes mostly for laughs, but earns much respect with such timely wit that makes her inevitable didactics palatable. After several years and several more online videos that garnered for Juana Change several more thousand hits, Paner, like one of those superheroes whose real names have become irrelevant because of their larger-than-life alter-egos, would be more known by the public as the fictional crusader she has created.

Juana C. the Movie does not stray far from its roots, which is good. There are no deep stories here, no exquisitely crafted characters, no grandiose ambitions to be anything other than a straightforward satire. The film’s storyline is reminiscent of the thinly-plotted titillating films from the 90’s where the formulaic plot of barrio innocents being spirited away to the city to become overworked prostitutes served as mere frames for gargantuan breasts to be exposed for the pleasure of the repressed audience and the profit of enterprising producers.

This time, Juana is the provincial lass who finds herself beholden to the allure of the city only to be left in debt. She is then forced her to sell her body. As a prostitute that caters to very specific needs, she is later on exposed to judges, senators, governors, generals and other personalities that hold sensitive positions or roles in government. Unlike its more exploitative and commercial ilk, the storyline is mostly milked for jokes, which range from the corny and crass to inventive and inspired.

Directed by Jade Castro, who directed Zombadings 1: Patayin sa Shokot si Remington (Remington and the Curse of the Zombadings, 2011) with a similar stance regarding the utility of what seems to be lowbrow humor to subvert and convert, Juana C. the Movie works best as a caricature of Philippine society. By enunciating and exaggerating immense national issues to the point of ridicule, the film brings the discourse to a level that is readily understandable to the common man. In the real world, mining generates employment in exchange for the pollution. In the film’s world, mining grants wealth to the already wealthy and turns a river into an acid trap. There are no grey areas here, no draining intellectualizations, no lengthy rationalizations, just crystal clear delineations between what is right and what is wrong.

In the end, the film properly addresses sticky national issues within the perspective of a universally-accepted concept of morality, which is immensely good for starters. The film does conclude with a caveat that its happy ending is short-lived. There is more to be done once the caricature’s over and reality overtakes the chuckles.

(Cross-published in Twitch.)

Zombadings: Patayin sa Shokot si Remington (2011)

Zombadings: Patayin sa Shokot si Remington (Jade Castro, 2011)

English Title: Zombadings: Kill Remington with Fear

If there’s one thing a filmmaker needs to know about profitable filmmaking in the Philippines, it is to acknowledge that the only kind of filmmaking that actually earns money is genre filmmaking. If the film is not horror, comedy, romance, or laden with homosexual themes and titillation, it would probably not arouse enough interest to earn enough box-office rewards to at least break even. It seems that filmmakers are then left with the choice of either making a commercial but compromised film or a noble-intentioned film that nobody in the country would have seen or even hear of unless it makes waves in international film festivals.

At first glance, Zombadings: Patayin sa Shokot si Remington (Zombadings: Kill Remington with Fear) seems to fit perfectly in the category of creative compromises. Producer and screenwriter Raymond Lee, screenwriter Michiko Yamamoto, and director and screenwriter Jade Castro ingeniously shower the film with elements from the horror, comedy, romance, and queer genres, assuring it, at least in essence, a chance at making monetary profit. However, Zombadings is more inspired than it sounds and looks. There is definitely more to the film than homosexual undead and slapstick. It is deliciously subversive, delivering a message that sadly and unfairly may not be universally accepted in the most universal of ways.

Set in a provincial town just like any other in the Philippines, Zombadings follows the story of Remington (Martin Escudero), the stereotypical macho boy next door who engages in manual labor during the day and downs shots of rum at night. Cursed to turn gay when he was a little boy by a gay man (Roderick Paulate) he angered because of his incessant insensitive teasing, Remington slowly but very surely turns gay, first with his gestures, then his language, then his sexual preference, leaving him in the middle of a love triangle involving his best friend Jigs (Kerbie Zamora) and literal girl-next-door Hannah (Lauren Young). While Remington is transforming, his mother (Janice De Belen), a police officer, is solving the case of uncovering who is responsible for the murders of the gay men in town.

Despite the having a story where crazy-looking gaydars, rollerblading widows, vengeful drag queens, homophobic serial killers and the titular gay zombies miraculously cohere, Zombadings is actually very intelligently and carefully conceived and crafted. Castro directs the film like a maverick conductor, leading an orchestra composed of traditionally jarring instruments but eventually coming up with a symphony that is not so hard to enjoy and adore.

The casting decisions are brilliant. Escudero, a teen heartthrob who has been relegated to playing supporting roles in haphazardly crafted horror films, is a revelation, hilariously portraying a straight man involuntarily turning gay, making use of all the clichés of gay-acting without looking forced or overdone. Paulate, who is instrumental in creating the sub-genre of drag queen slapsticks with films like Petrang Kabayo at ang Pilyang Kuting (Petra the Horse and the Naughty Kitten, Luciano Carlos, 1988), Bala at Lipistik (Bullet and Lipstick, Maryo J. De Los Reyes, 1994), and Ded na si Lolo (Grandpa si Dead, Soxie Topacio, 2009), generously and willingly lends his iconic stature to give Zombadings credibility within that genre, effectively making its use of homosexual stereotypes palatable within the perspective of being part of a cinematic tradition that began as far back as 1954 with Mar Torres’ Jack en Jill starring legendary Dolphy as the funny crossdresser.

On the other hand, John Regala, who starred in many action flicks of the late eighties and early nineties, Daniel Fernando, who most famously played the peeping tom in Peque Gallaga’s Scorpio Nights (1985), and Leandro Baldemor, who bared his skin while cavorting with starlets in many of the titillating films of the nineties, lend their iconic cinematic manliness to represent the other darker side of the fence of homophobia as machismo. Their much-valued machismo however looks useless once pitted against the leadership and industry of the characters played by De Belen, Odette Khan, and Mailes Kanapi who do more for the town than throw baseless and hateful tirades against gays (that are rightfully drowned and obliterated by a marching band in one of the film’s more clever scenes).

Zombadings is undoubtedly tons of fun, and it is perfectly alright to take it as it is, a very well-made piece of populist entertainment. However, the film becomes even more rewarding if enjoyed within the context of what it was made for, as a document of empowerment, a testament to the right of choice, and a blow against intolerance. It is packaged in a way that its freedoms and excesses should not be taken literally or too seriously, yet its jabs at still-existing constipated perceptions and opinions against homosexuality are too potent to be left unnoticed. Ladies and gentlemen, gay or straight, dead or alive, this film’s a winner.

(Cross-published in Twitch.)

My Big Love (2008)

My Big Love (Jade Castro, 2008)

One of my favorite films from 2007 is Jade Castro's Endo, a lovely little romance between two contractual workers who are struggling to find meaning in the demeaning world of tentative jobs and ambitions. The fantastic thing about Endo is that Castro was able to render a genuinely affecting story within the bounds of a traditional narrative. Castro did not belabor the political subtexts of his film and instead grounds itself on the human elements of his characters' struggles like their wavering hopes and dreams in the midst of a dehumanizing social system, the staggered relationships that naturally fade along with the employment contracts, their dependent families who have their own demons to wrestle with. As a result, Endo transcends the bounds of its traditionally romantic narrative and becomes something more pertinent --- a hopeful but melancholic portrait of the 21st century Filipino working class.

My Big Love, Castro's sophomore feature is set in what feels like a fantasy world where both the poor and the rich are happy, hopeful, and at peace. This is the exact opposite of the world of Endo where the debilitating routine of switching from one job to another seem to drain vitality and sense of humanity from the oppressed working class; the clear oppressors of whom are the upper class and their business motives. Of course, there is no point in seeking depth in a film that is crafted for plain escapism but the complete turn-around from Castro is quite startling and disappointing especially after the successes of his debut feature. Castro however is no stranger to the glossy excesses of mainstream cinema, having penned several of Star Cinema's purely commercial films like First Day High (Mario Cornejo, 2006) and D'Anothers (Joyce Bernal, 2005). The curious thing about My Big Love is that it is not only directed by Jade Castro, but is also co-written by Michiko Yamamoto (along with Theodore Boborol), screenwriter of two of arguably the best Filipino films of recent years Magnifico (Maryo delos Reyes, 2003) and Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros (The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros, Auraeus Solito, 2005). With such proven talents, one can only expect greatness or the very least, a tinge of innovativeness.

Of course, My Big Love is first and foremost, a studio product. It exists with a single primary purpose: to make profit by entertaining the masses. Formula assures that the purpose is fulfilled while suffocating creativity. As it turns out, My Big Love exists purely to be disposable entertainment notwithstanding the able talents attached to the project. The movie is about the budding romance between Macky (Sam Milby) and Aira (Toni Gonzaga). Macky is an obese chef who is embarrassingly dumped by Niña (Kristine Hermosa), the girl of his dreams whom he woos through chatting but eventually disappoints upon their first awkward meeting. He turns to Aira, a personal trainer, to lose weight in the hopes of winning Niña back. As it turns out, he starts falling in love with Aira, who unfortunately is leaving for Japan to earn extra income to sustain her family. When Aira comes back from Japan, Macky has already lost a great deal of weight thus earning the perfect physique that would please Niña, who is now his girlfriend.

The first half of My Big Love is actually pretty good. Most of the humor in the film range from slapstick to lowbrow fun, with most of the jokes aimed at Macky's looks and size. Some are guiltily hilarious, such as when Aira's mother (Malou de Guzman), a pedicab driver, struggles to drive Macky up a slope. Others are plainly corny, such as the needless MTV-like montage of Macky and Aira training, prompting a cute but slightly annoying choreographed dance number inside a grocery store. The unabashedly insensitive humor is tempered by the way Castro shrouds Macky, obviously molded by the screenwriters as the formulaic lovable underdog, with an unguarded vulnerability that is genuinely affecting. Surprisingly, Milby, who dons prosthetics and a fat suit to make it look like he weighs 300 pounds, renders a performance that exudes a heartfelt sensitivity which is uncharacteristic for the model-turned-actor who usually gets away with boring performances by his matinee idol good looks.

While the film succumbs in filling up the screen with perfunctory details that exist purely to forward the film's commercial thrust, it is actually during the silent moments wherein we get a hint of honesty underneaeth all the film's capitalistic trappings. Moments like Aira's sudden embrace (most probably out of pity, but still genuinely a good moment) or Macky and Aira's quiet parting after their histrionically melodramatic parting in the airport (with Castro's camera still in a perceptive wide shot, with the two characters going different ways, stealing final and unsure glances of each other) are all indelible marks that although the film is purely junkfood, the person sitting as director has both a working brain and a big heart.

Unfortunately, once Macky loses his weight halfway through the movie, things suddenly become severely uninteresting. Without the prosthetics and the fat suit, Macky morph into a completely unrecognizable character who is far less convincing, far less lovable. Macky lost his underdog status for that legitimate leading man status characterized by good looks and success, he turns into the quintessential cardboard character, boring and emotionally flat. The requirements of the studio-financed rom-com formula overtakes both creativity and logic. This isn't exactly Castro's proudest moment as the second half of the movie feels rushed (haphazardly edited to fit in both the required romantic moments and plot movers within the remaining time) and dull. Similarly exposed are the inconsistencies in Yamamoto and Boborol's screenplay, with both logic and character consistency thrown out the window for convenience's sake. Ultimately, My Big Love is big in promise and small in delivery.

Endo (2007)

Endo (Jade Castro, 2007)

The film's title is street-speak for "end of contract." It also refers to the final day of work in the normative six months of employment which these exploitative contracts bind lowly employees with, sending them back to that limbo of joblessness after the end of that duration, or starting anew with another like contract in another workplace. The system is a glaring loophole in the Philippines' labor laws, wherein employees are set free before reaching the statute-imposed regularization, saving management the headaches concerning tenure and other employment benefits. It is a loophole that has turned into a norm, both to the exploiting capitalists and the workers that are forcedly dragged into the unfair system.

Writer-director Jade Castro's Endo is a love story set within that world of recycled employment, where romance is as disposable as the jobs these people hold onto. Leo (Jason Abalos) is already used to the grind of part-time employment, with all his friends and girlfriends revolving around the same routine of livelihood. Similarly, His love affairs are as short-lived as his employment stints. Tanya (Ina Feleo) works as a saleslady in a shoe store inside a mall where Leo would start his new work as a sales boy for another boutique. The two inevitably fall in love, considering the convenient distance, the similarities of their situations, that incandescent spark that erupt when they go by. A love triangle then sprouts when Candy (CJ Javarata), Leo's ex-girlfriend from a previous job, begins to rekindle their past relationship. During that instance, the film suddenly acquires a very familiar premise, something we've already seen so many times in so many movies and other kinds literature, only with different scenarios and circumstances.

Thankfully, the familiar yet utterly gorgeous romance is only one facet of the film. Castro generously allows us a more intimate glimpse at Leo's life. Leo's father (Ricky Davao) was left by his wife when he was rendered inutile by an accident. As a result, he then spends most of his time stuck at home while taking care of his fighting cock. Leo's younger brother (Alchris Galura) spends more time lounging at home or going out than studying, as what hardworking Leo who spends for his education only expects from him. His deadened role as breadwinner at home forces him to be satisfied with the hypnotizing groove of temporary employment, quietly happy that he's sustaining his family and planting seeds for a better future by sending his younger brother to school. His only diversion from the lulling staticity of his life are the erstwhile affairs that come and go whenever he moves in and out of his jobs. The joys and pains of falling in and out of love become the potent drugs that make life easier for him.

Endo is beautifully acted. Jason Abalos, clearly matured from the teenybopper fare he has grown up with, plays his role with tenderness and sincerity that is quietly affecting. The biggest revelation in the film is Ina Feleo, daughter of proficient actor Johnny Delgado and director Laurice Guillen. She exudes a charming candor, a naturally blossoming although shielded submissiveness, an unobtrusive vulnerability, that makes you fall in love with her. Her eyes twinkle, not in a way that is manufactured as most teenage actresses have mastered through studio-sponsored acting workshops, but with a gratifying sincerity that is quite rare in local cinema. She speaks in a mannered diction that should feel strange in the social class populated by low-salaried blue-collar workers, yet despite that supposedly glaring inconsistency, she still inhabits the character with enthralling sensitivity.

It's impressive how Castro tells the oft-told tale with much frankness and admirable honesty without further sensationalizing or politicizing the backdrop where the romance is set. The narrative unfolds wonderfully and without surrendering to the old-fashioned tropes that turn love stories into forgettable exercises. Castro was able to enchant me with his brilliantly-written characters thriving and struggling in realistically-drawn situations. Even the characters that come and go through Leo and Tanya's transient relations with their respective jobs are treated with importance as Castro magnanimously grants these characters stories that complement and deepen the central romance like Leo's pal Mark and his suspicious relations with his manager or Tanya's co-worker (Mailes Kanapi) in the hotel whose knack for giving life-affirming advices are clearly learned from her own experiences. Castro was able to paint clear and moving portraits of the people we barely notice, those who have been delegated to the sidelines of this mechanical and utterly commercial world. At least for once, their happiness and aches have been made understandable by fleshing these emotions and aspirations through a medium as universal as love.

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This film won Special Jury Prize in the 3rd Cinemalaya Film Festival.