What Isn’t There: On Philippine Cinema and the Global Arena by Don Jaucian

The prevailing practice in Philippine Cinema, at least on the surface, is to hold up a locally made film up to the standards of the West. Local box office returns and movie-going behavior suggest that we’ve never really outgrown our Hollywood upbringing and the films that still capture our imaginations are the big, bombastic productions that the overlords of the West deem relevant for the world’s commercial cinema. High-flying films such as Iron Man 3 and Star Trek: Into Darkness dominated the local theaters for weeks, dismantling the notion of choice for people who wanted to spend their hard-earned money for an hour or two inside the cinema. Films have always been viewed mainly as an escapist tool; a means to disappear inside the folds of the world unveiling before our eyes and Hollywood has been particularly adept in mesmerizing audiences, one franchise after another. 

But thankfully, the emergence of Asian Cinema in the international arena has allowed Filipino producers and filmmakers to craft films from a different perspective, one that is certainly close to ours. For the past decade, moneymaking ventures in cinema tend to drive towards two kinds of genre filmmaking: the romantic comedy and the horror film. Some of these films, as pointed out by film critic Dodo Dayao, move towards the direction of Korean romantic comedies, and later, with Erik Matti’s On the Job, the hyperkinetic action films of Hong Kong. Star Cinema, the biggest film production company in the country, Viva Films, and Regal Films all put out the biggest chunk of today’s commercial releases.

At the margins, it’s the indies that make a viable case for the evolution of our local cinema. These are the films that actually go abroad in international film festivals and represent the state of filmmaking in the Philippines.

Independent filmmakers look to international film festivals not only for the prestige it brings but also for the chance to market their films for a more sophisticated audience and get more financial backing. The lack of film appreciation in the country has caged independent films into the festival circuit, with only a chosen few getting out once in a while for commercial release. Films like Marlon Rivera’s The Woman in the Septic Tank and Auraeus Solito’s acclaimed The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros (the first Filipino film in the Sundance Film Festival) prove that there’s a market for for intelligent, independent films that rebel against the formula of the mainstream. Their international successes, particularly with Maxi, prove that there is more to local cinema than beaten-down tropes. Maxi coated its social-realist codes in the fluff of pink cinema, creating a world that is all too familiar and recognizably Filipino.

After Brillante Mendoza’s win as best director in the 2009 Cannes Film Festival (for Kinatay), and the steady output of the Philippine New Wave filmmakers (an informal movement of independent filmmakers such as Lav Diaz, Khavn, Raya Martin, and Adolf Alix Jr., all regular fixtures in the international festivals) have paved way for Philippine cinema’s strong show in world cinema. Filipino filmmakers are profiled in film books and magazines and more programmers are including local films in their watch list. Suddenly, after a period of stagnation, Philippine cinema is getting back on its feet.

But the option to bring films to film festivals abroad also say much about the preferences of local audiences. While the attendance of the independent showcase, Cinemalaya, has grown over the years, it is still poised to break through the commercially viable barrier. The Film Development Council of the Philippines (FDCP), the government’s arm in the promotion and preservation of local cinema, has also taken steps in bringing these films in different regions of the country since much of these festivals open only in Metro Manila). The cinematheques in Baguio, Iloilo, Davao, and Marawi, have become a venue to bring independent films and other classics to people who may not have the luxury to attend festivals in Manila. The FDCP has also launched their own film festival, Sineng Pambansa, last year, and its focus on regional cinema is another welcome development. Their efforts however still remains at a small scale and most of the films in Sineng Pambansa remain to be unseen outside the festival.

It’s films like Maxi that best represent what our cinema can offer to the world. A magazine editor once shared that in video stores abroad, Maxi is only one of the few Filipino films that make it to the shelves. But the recent critical success of Jun Lana’s Bwakaw, a story of an old gay man awaiting his death, and his relationship with the titular dog, and the triumphs of the four Filipino films in this year’s Cannes Film Festival, herald a brighter future for our cinema.

The Philippine contingent in this year’s Cannes runs a spectrum that outlines our cinematic evolution. First, Lino Brocka’s restored classic, Manila in the Claws of Light (also recently crowned by an online poll as the best Filipino film of all time), showcase the second Golden Age of Philippine Cinema. Then, there are the more artistic and in-depth byways into the Filipino psyche in Adolf Alix Jr’s Death March and Lav Diaz, one of the most important Filipino filmmakers, and his Dostoyevsky-esque Norte: The End of History. Diaz’s film wowed critics and audiences at the Croisette, and has been hailed a masterpiece. Such adjectives have always been associated with Diaz’s work whose epic running-times (his longest film runs for ten hours), plumb the deepest depths of our history and collective experiences.

Finally, there’s Erik Matti’s On the Job, a hit man film backed by an unlikely ally, Star Cinema. The studio let Matti take over the production, even allowing two of their biggest talents, Piolo Pascual and Gerald Anderson, take risks outside their established pretty-boy images. On the Job is both a gritty exploration of the darkest recesses of Philippine society, and a stylized action film that hopefully sets a bar in local filmmaking. It’s this careful marriage of style and substance that Matti hopes to bring to international and local audiences.

“[Our production outfit, Reality Entertainment] were gunning for local movies that have international appeal,” Matti told me in an interview before he showed OTJ inCannes. “I think that’s the way to go. The reason that we can’t bring our budgets higher than what we’re used to is because we’re only dependent on the local market. That’s why ang lakas pa rin ng mga Vice Ganda. But that can’t translate internationally, it’s geared towards a local market. Ito lang yung kaya ng budget.”

“Alam ko talaga OTJ has a really strong international appeal kasi tayo lang naman yung walang buhay dito yung mga action saka crime drama pero internationally, everyone, The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo, City of God, The Prophet, Johnnie To movies, mga ganyan yan eh. So it really has an international appeal if you do it right,” he added.

It’s about time the new Philippine cinema take its form and assimilate into world culture, just like how Westernized notions have taken us hold for the last few decades. But these triumphs are also telling of the shortcomings of our local film industry; that we still have a long way to go before we can instill a deeper appreciation for a different cinematic flavor, one that doesn’t’ subscribe to the whims of lazy producers and tired audiences. The need to spotlight small but important films, films that have a significant cultural value, like Benito Bautista’s documentary, Harana, or Antoinette Jadaone’s mockumentary on local showbiz, Six Degrees of Separation from Lilia Cuntapay, should be taken out of their prized international film fest boxes into the welcoming arms of the Filipino audience. In the end, it’s all about cinema that speaks closest to your personal experiences; one that enriches your understanding of humanity and the world—be it grounded on the Filipino experience or otherwise.

Originally published as ‘What Isn’t There: Philippine Cinema vs the World’ in the July/August 2013 issue of Playboy Philippines

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CALL FOR ENTRIES! 

Deadline for Submissions: September 1, 2013 —————————- Mechanics: Open to student and non-student works. Selected works will be programmed in competitive and non-competitive sections  BINISAYA Short Film Competition • Films must be made within the Visayas made by a filmmaker from the Visayas • Films made within January 2012 to present • within 5 - 30 mins in duration • there is no entry fee  BINISAYA Regional Short Film & Documentary Film Exhibition • Films from the Visayas and Mindanao • may exceed 30 mins in length • there is no entry fee Music Video • doesn’t need to be in Bisaya as long as it is from the Visayas and Mindanao • there is no entry fee General Requirements for all submissions • English subtitles are required • Formats required 1. Send the highest possible format of your film in a Data DVD file (for HD films) 2. If your film is in SD format you can send DVD format of the film or you can also send the mini DV tape 3. We may accept harddrive or sd card file transfers (by appointment) 4. Always send a duplicate or your original film, never send the original copy 5. DVD shipments must be prepaid. The organizing office will not accept any collect shipments of the entries. • Include a short synopsis and contact information All entries must be submitted/mailed on or before September 1, 2013 labeled “Binisaya Film Festival Entry” to the following address: Idden de los Reyes 8thumbs Office, Room 2,  Terraces, Advent Business Center,  139, Acacia St., Cebu City All submissions will go through a screening process. It does not mean that if you submitted a film, you will automatically be selected. Official selection will be announced through www.binisaya.org. - please email [email protected] for inquiries - get updated through fb.com/binisaya

Blues and Greens in Coron, Palawan (theafterhours-redux)

“I’ve loved Superman since I was 3 years old,” Chavez told The Daily Beast. “It all started with the Super Friends cartoons. I watched them every Saturday morning. And the person who played Superman that I admire the most is Christopher Reeve in Superman II.”

Chavez, now 34, modeled his look after Reeve, who played the Last Son of Krypton in four Hollywood films before his death in 2004, as well as the animated version of Superman on Super Friends. Chavez says he was always attracted to Superman’s overwhelming love for mankind and how he “did good deeds for truth, justice, and the Filipino way—oops, I mean the American way, originally,” he says with a laugh.

He was an acne-riddled 21-year-old when he began the procedures. The first, he says, was rhinoplasty in 1998, and he’s had numerous others since, including three more nose jobs, lip injections, two chin augmentations to give him the signature cleft, three tummy tucks, a facelift, skin pigment orientation to whiten it, a butt implant, hip implants, and numerous steroid injections to various parts of his body. Many have alleged that Chavez suffers from body dysmorphic disorder—a mental illness where one becomes obsessed with his or her own body image, and believes one’s own body to be inferior. But Chavez brushes those claims off. He’s just a big, big, BIG Superman fan, he says.

Chavez’s home in Calamba is a shrine to Superman, filled with various forms of memorabilia, including comics, posters, bed sheets, figurines, and several larger-than-life statues of the superhero—which he often poses alongside.

As far as the Superman films are concerned, while his favorite is Superman II, he says he’s enjoyed all the Superman films, including 2006’s oft-derided Superman Returns, because “every Superman movie for me, whether good or bad, is a history that follows the evolution of this comic hero,” adding, “If it is a Superman movie, I love it!”

These days, Chavez gets paid handsomely to make appearances as “Philippine Superman.” He averages between $600-$1,000 per appearance, but says most of his activities consist of charity work, including visiting orphanages and attending fundraising events. In addition to working as a costume designer, the graduate of Laguna College of Business and Arts runs the Herbert Chavez Talent Workshop—specializing in events, as well as talent management forcosplayers and pageant participants.

“Being a superhero is not about one’s costume, nationality, sexuality, or religion,” he says. “Everybody can be Superman because true heroics come from your heart to help, to serve, and to give happiness—especially to children. We must fight for truth, justice, and the HUMAN way!”

(via lickystickypickyshe)