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Crass war

BONG JOON-HO’s Parasite hums along nicely, a Rube Goldberg thriller whose parts are polished to a shine, slide over and into each other with lubricated precision.

Nonstop

SAM MENDES’ 1917 — about a pair of soldiers crossing No Man’s Land to deliver a crucial message — is reportedly the odds-on favorite to win big at the upcoming Academy Awards ceremony this coming Sunday. Does it deserve the frontrunner status? Well let me put it this way:

Best films of the past 10 years

A GRIM DECADE, grimmer now in its passing. Not a lot of comedies on my list, and what laughter there is often dies strangled in the throat.

The iron butterfly

LAUREN GREENFIELD’s The Kingmaker is a welcome addition to a too-meager genre of films: documentaries and dramas attesting to the abuses of the Marcos’ regime.

Best of 2019, the sequel

LONELINESS, alienation, the feeling of being cut off from other people or from society in general — a persistent condition that seems to have become strangely prominent in the better films of this year.

In my book best of 2019

AFTER THE ANGER that burned through much of 2018 I found films released in 2019 a bit muted — strange considering how much faster, louder, more urgent events in the world have become, from climate-related disasters to the recent escalation in tensions between Trump and, well, everyone else.

Sea of love

I DON’T think there’s much to uncover underneath the surface of Mati Diop’s feature debut Atlantics (Atlantique, 2019), now available on Netflix. It’s a love story — young girl Ada (Mame Bineta Sane) is in love with poor boy Souleiman (Ibrahim Traore) but is promised to wealthy Omar (Babacar Sylla) — and as with all such stories, the two lovers pine for each other for the duration of the film. Predictable simple trite — and yet and yet and yet

Recyclable Skywalker

FINALLY, the last installment of this third trilogy that George Lucas a long time ago in an era that feels far far away once cobbled together, from Flash Gordon serials, The Adventures of Robin Hood, World War 2 fighter plane footage (particularly The Dam Busters) and, most of all, Kurosawa’s The Hidden Fortress (with a brief callback to Yojimbo). The capstone to his grand edifice of a fantasy* franchise if you like.

Who’s watching this Watchmen?

GETTING THE big question out of the way: Damon Lindelof’s new HBO miniseries, Watchmen, is fun. Fast-paced, engaging, funny, and at times even witty, it ingeniously picks up the various threads of Alan Moore’s intricate weave and extends them, introducing patterns and themes of its own to create a new narrative.

Splitting image

NOAH BAUMBACH’s Marriage Story starts positively poised: Charlie (Adam Driver) and then Nicole (Scarlett Johansson) reading offscreen what they like about each other while Baumbach runs a series of images as illustrative commentary. Then the kicker — this is the start of a mediator session where the two are in the process of divorce, and Nicole refuses to read to Charles what she’s so movingly and eloquently written. The ending of the relationship, not its affirmation.

I heard you make movies

IN The Irishman (2019) someone puts a question to Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro), the same question that is title of Charles Brandt’s 2004 book (I Heard You Paint Houses) — the same question one might ask of Martin Scorsese with the same innocuousness, and just the hint of something more.

The caged bird sings

IF I REMEMBER right, I saw Mario O’Hara’s Bulaklak sa City Jail (Flowers of the City Jail) on its opening run back in 1984 and thrilled to the story of Angela Aguilar (Nora Aunor), a hapless woman jailed for “frustrated murder.” Based on Lualhati Bautista’s novel of the same name, sequences stayed in memory — Angela’s first night reception (where her cellmates practically raped her); the attempted escape through an old mansion’s garden statuary, her pursuit by police through Manila Zoo. I remember the lurid red of the nightclub where Angela sings, the bleak glow of cellblock lights, the deep shadows of the zoo.

Should I stay or should I go?

DENISE O’HARA’S Mamang — part Gothic character study, part memory play, part comedy of accommodation — was one of the best films of 2018, I thought. Her sophomore effort Tayo Muna Habang Hindi Pa Tayo (Dating Not Dating) is at first glance a slick exercise in the Philippines’ most popular genre of the moment (the romcom) that at second glance develops (nonfans might say “devolves”) into something messier, more troubling.

Lost in space

PAUL W.S. ANDERSON’s Event Horizon is arguably the Mary Celeste of science fiction cinema, not just being the story of a ship lost in the vast oceans of space but the film itself falling victim to malevolent forces (Paramount Studios) and mutilated, the missing portions gone forever.

The good earth

MANUEL SILOS’ Biyaya ng Lupa (Blessings of the Land, 1959) is one of those films where one is hard-pressed to say why or how it’s great. It’s so understated, so modestly poised, so gracefully proportioned it takes a while — perhaps some time after a screening — before the finer qualities sink in deep enough to plink at the outer fringes of awareness.

No guts no glory

FRANK BORZAGE’s No Greater Glory is often described as one of the greatest anti-war films ever made — but is it?

Alone again, naturally

DWEIN BALTAZAR’s Oda sa Wala (Ode to Nothing, 2018) starts with the shot of a light bulb bombarded by a swarm of flying insects, the tinny recording of a Chinese song — “Jasmine Flower” — playing in the background.

No kidding

YOU’D THINK the director of The Hangover doing an aggressively somber adaptation of an iconic comic-book character was a joke, but no. You’d think the movie being given an eight-minute standing ovation, then a Golden Lion at the 76th Venice Festival was meant to be an elaborate prank but apparently not.

The film don’t fly

JIM JARMUSCH’s latest feature The Dead Don’t Die (2019) is arguably his most commercial effort yet, a fairly big-budgeted production* with high-profile cast -- working I’m guessing for scale or free -- and opening wide in the USA, around 600 theaters.

Heart of darkness

CONSIDER THE case of James Gray. He’s never directed a box office hit (though some have made their money back, barely); he’s more of an arthouse filmmaker, with distinct obsessions and eclectic influences — kind of like Tarantino, only backed by genuine filmmaking talent and a near-zero interest in cultivating commercial appeal.

Father knows best

SEPTEMBER 19 marks 70 years since Yasujiro Ozu’s Late Spring (Banshun) was first released, in 1949. The film is the first entry in his “Noriko Trilogy” (quintessential Ozu muse Setsuko Hara playing single or widowed character named Noriko), and the first masterpiece of his late period (rigorous pared-down style, soft-spoken focus on domestic tensions).

Victim or accomplice?

JULIE (Honor Swinton Byrne), heroine of Joanna Hogg’s latest film The Souvenir, is a fresh-faced youth whose every emotion registers as loudly as a fork dragged across rice paper; the film, on the other hand, is like obsidian glass, dark in tone and emotionally opaque — run a fingernail across its polished gleam and you leave not a mark.

Presumed innocent

DON’T LET the rather innocuous-sounding title of Arden Rod Condez’s debut feature John Denver Trending fool you: this is a harrowing film, a horror film, entirely plausible yet nightmarish in feel.

Pulp fanfic

FINALLY Quentin Tarantino’s mildly racist, markedly misogynistic, mostly masturbatory Once Upon a Time in Hollywood has hit Filipino screens and if all indications prove correct it will be a major hit. Maybe not as big a hit as Marvel’s Avengers: Endgame (which I didn’t like much either) but I do love the way folks have spun the popularity of Tarantino’s wankfest: as one of the rare non-sequel non-franchise pictures to open to good box office.

A tribute to Richard Williams, 1933–2019

ONCE upon a time, there was an animator named Richard Williams who built a reputation out of fashioning animated shorts.

Moonshine

THE FILM starts out as a fevered dream: oddly warped feet walking across the screen, their steps spreading outwards like a malignancy; the camera shifts and we realize we’re looking at water reflections of three men’s legs crossing a concrete floor. For some reason your eye focus on the leading man’s hands: they hang down from limp heavily resigned arms. Why?

Nun other

AT ITS best Mikhail Red’s Eerie is exactly that: eerie. The son of pioneering indie filmmaker Raymond Red has I’d say inherited his father’s eye for editing, composition, and lighting, fashioning films that are (whatever else you might say about them) strikingly visual, with accompanying social commentary.

Out of Africa

AFI AFRICA’s The Lookout first appeared in last year’s Cinemalaya Festival, to less than stellar notices. You can hardly blame the skeptics: the script features largely unsympathetic characters, a complex plot told nonlinear fashion, a generous (or — depending on how you feel about such things — excessive) dose of langorously lingered-upon sex.

Got to get away

MIDSOMMAR, Ari Aster’s follow up to his terrific (at least for the first three-fourths) Hereditary, improves on the earlier work this much: instead of situating his narrative in Utah he moves his story to an exotic faraway land (well, Sweden) where the notion of a possibly malevolent conspiracy can be more easily established. Yes, xenophobia, though arguably much of horror literature and film sprouts out of a fear of the Other.

Catspaw

KANETO SHINDO’s Kuroneko (Black Cat, 1968) is a horror film whose single most horrifying act occurs in the opening minutes.

Pig out

I REMEMBER Anthony Bourdain’s Quebec episode in his show No Reservations, quoting his host Martin Picard. “Tonight I will keel you,” Picard had said, to which Bourdain added: “these are words I don’t take lightly.” Picard proceeded to “keel” Bourdain with one spectacularly rich and extravagant dish after another, to end with the palate cleanser of a whole roasted suckling pig, bisected snout wrapped in 24-karat gold leaf.

Wait till your father gets…

STANLEY KUBRICK, reportedly dismayed by the poor box office of Barry Lyndon, decided his next project would be a horror film; he skimmed through the first few pages of a stack of books (tossing those that failed to hold his attention in a growing pile), and ultimately settled on Stephen King’s The Shining, about a haunted hotel that turns an alcoholic father against his wife and telepathic son.

Home away

JUNIOR ISN’T the only Filipino eatery in Montreal, but as all the others are clustered around the Cote-des-Neiges neighborhood it’s the only one that chose to strike out for other pastures, establishing itself in 2014 in Griffintown, a former Irish immigrant community turned industrial area turned urban renewal experiment.

Comic book hero

LAMBERTO AVELLANA’s Lapu-Lapu (1955) is about as straightforward a biopic as you can get about the famed Mactan warrior, other than the fact that this was adapted from Francisco Coching’s highly romanticized (to put it mildly) komiks (comics) serial.

Springs eternal

MIKE DE LEON mentioned in passing that “Huk, despite the propaganda, in my opinion, remains one of the best Avellana films. Along with Pag-asa.”

Quietly, delicately breaking our heart

GIVE IT to master Filipino filmmaker Lamberto Avellana: he knows how to start a picture. Badjao had a horn blown to gather a village of house canoes, forming a seaborne village; Huk sa Bagong Pamumuhay began with a detonating grenade; Anak Dalita evoked Roberto Rossellini in neorealist mode, tracing the ruin of a church from its fractured belfry to the people teeming at the base of its crumbling walls. Kundiman ng Lahi (Folksong, 1959), Avellana’s last film for LVN studios, trumps them all I think: no blown horn, no explosives, no church ruins, just the monotonous thumping of a wood pestle milling rice in a mortar. An obvious symbol — we’re the rice, the husk (our innocence, our sensitivity) pounded out of us by the relentless pestle — but also a sexual one, the phallic pestle pounding into the accepting mortar, turning hard seed into tender food.

Survivor type

YET ANOTHER Lamberto Avellana film on Mike de Leon’s Citizen Jake vimeo site, this one arguably his most famous: Anak Dalita, or Child of Sorrow (1956).

Waterworld

THE FILM Badjao or The Sea Gypsies (1957) starts with an image of waves lapping onto shore, the divide between land and sea stretching diagonally across the screen. With his first frame Lamberto Avellana (collaborating with the great cinematographer Mike Accion) summarizes what the film will be all about: the tension between sand and surf, between people of differing loyalties, communities, ethnicities. A man standing beside a roof of dried palm raises his horn against a clouded sky and blows; cue the bombast (and lovely lilting melody) of Francisco Buencamino, Jr.’s theme music.

Sex tape

JOSELITO ALTAREJOS’ Jino to Mari (Gino and Marie, 2019), about a pair of sex workers hired to do a Japanese porn film, is (to put it mildly) fairly explicit — about as explicit as a Filipino independent film probably gets nowadays without actually being porn.

Rebel yell

AVAILABLE ON filmmaker Mike de Leon’s Citizen Jake Vimeo site: Lamberto Avellana’s postwar drama Huk sa Bagong Pamumuhay (Huk in a New Life, 1953), about a wartime guerrilla who, out of desperation, joins communist forces seeking to overthrow the Filipino government. Produced by De Leon’s grandmother Doña Narcisa de Leon, it was unabashedly anticommunist pro-American propaganda, the third such effort by Doña Sisang’s LVN Studios. The print on this website — a not-especially-clear recording from a DVD — emphasizes the slant: some of the dialogue is in English, and much of the Filipino dialogue is overdubbed with English narration, reportedly by Avellana himself, carefully explaining the motivation of characters and significance of each scene: “If I had known then what Maxie (Joseph de Cordova) really represented, things might have been different.”

Breaking bad

STEVE MCQUEEN’s Widows is a sketch of urban corruption, a low-key indictment of racism and (a touch louder) misogyny, a rich character study. It’s also a hell of a crime pic.

Family business

HIROKAZU KORE-EDA’s latest film Shoplifters (Manbiki Kazoku, 2018) begins with as unremarkable an opening as possible: a father and his son enter a grocery, split up to walk down separate aisles. Only father and son keep throwing each other sidelong glances and hand signals; only son does a little finger twiddle that we’ll see from time to time; only when a clerk working nearby glances at son, the father walks up to block the clerk’s view while the son drops several packets of instant ramen into his backpack. Graceful bit of choreography, made casual by long practice, understated yet captivating in its intricacy.

Bifocal

It isn’t as if the life of Vincent Van Gogh hasn’t been adapted for the big screen before. Lust for Life was Vincente Minnelli’s lustily melodramatic take (based on Irving Stone’s novel), with Kirk Douglas holding little back as he strained to suggest Vincent’s intensity; Robert Altman’s Vincent and Theo focused on the relationship between the Van Gogh brothers and their destructively parallel course; Maurice Pialat’s Van Gogh — easily the most unsentimental of the group — presents a harsh, uningratiating view of a harsh, uningratiating artist, avoiding the traditional highlights (including that ear thing) and focusing on more quotidian activities — Pialat doesn’t even make much effort to show the paintings, or approximate Vincent’s unmistakable style onscreen.

Swamped

FIRST the title: Kangkungan — literally, swamp (or water) spinach patch. A highly nutritious green that flourishes in canals and fishponds all over the Philippines, often sautéed with fermented shrimp paste and minced garlic. What’s the significance?

The apple of her eye

YORGOS LANTHIMOS’ latest film The Favourite may be his oddest yet if you stop and consider his work so far, from breakthrough feature Dogtooth (about a family teaching a skewed view of the world to its walled-in children) to the recent The Killing of a Sacred Deer (about a curse hovering over a physician’s family), where metaphorical fantasy and (better yet) the much odder machinations of human nature give his films a memorably loopy spin.