Roger Ebert kills Brillante Mendoza's 'Kinatay' (which wins Best Director in Cannes anyway); Coraline; Rear Window; Le Plaisir

Brillante Mendoza's Kinatay

If they move, kill em

Roger Ebert, the gray eminence of Chicago film criticism, has weighed in on Kinatay (The Execution of P, 2009), Brillante Mendoza's latest work, presently in the Competition section of Cannes, and his verdict is not kind: Here is a film that forces me to apologize to Vincent Gallo for calling "The Brown Bunny" the worst film in the history of the Cannes Film Festival.

What if someone else directed "Star Trek?"

Just saying--I liked Star Trek well enough to think that J. J. Abrams is perfectly capable of continuing the franchise for years to come; my one major reservation being the fact that, well, he can't direct action, at all, not here, not in Mission Impossible 3, not in any film he's directed or produced.

And I'm not alone in thinking this. David Bordwell took Paul Greengrass to task for his incomprehensible camerawork in the Bourne movies; he's spoken out in favor of the coherent action sequence (of which Hong Kong filmmakers are some of the best practitioners, and Johnnie To above all, at the moment, the best of the Hong Kong action directors) compared to the Greengrass/Abrams style of shaking the camera and cutting the footage to the point of incomprehensibility, or nausea, whichever comes first.

Which makes me wonder: who could be a better director for the Star Trek movies? I mean, given that Abrams produced (after this monster hit, I doubt if they're going to let him have anything less). If we listen to Bordwell and look for a Hong Kong filmmaker--could we get Johnnie To? He doesn't seem interested in leaving Hong Kong, at least in the forseeable future.

Tsui Hark? Maybe not the Hark of recent years (he's taken to handheld camerawork and his editing has edged towards the incoherent, though nowhere near Greengrass or Abrams (or Tony Scott, for that matter))--I'd love to see him do it in the style of the Once Upon a Time in China movies, which had wonderful wirework and martial arts combat and filmmaking (every time I see someone pick up an umbrella in anger, I think of this film; come to think of it, every time I see a wet towel I think of this film). Plus he's fluent in special effects, even digital effects (though I'd love to see him do Star Trek with plenty of wirework).

Spielberg? Everyone's first choice will probably be Spielberg, so everyone can have him--moving on to the more interesting choices.

John McTiernan? Inevitable--too inevitable. He's done fun films, but after all is said and done, he's dull--strictly a meat-and-potatoes man.

Robert Rodriguez--would he be interested in Star Trek? I'd love to see a lot more Latin-American crew members in the Enterprise--and I'd have no problem with him directing. He's got a cartoon style that takes after Hong Kong with a swoony romantic feel all his own. Just don't give him input on the script--he doesn't know how to end a story (witness Once Upon a Time in Mexico)

David Lynch--now we're talking. Dennis Hopper as a gas-sniffing Klingon? Spock and Uhura having obsessive bouts of sex in their quarters? A finger-snapping midget talking backwards on the bridge? Lynch's done science fiction before, and the results were baroque and fascinating (the fans hated it, but I've always argued a somewhat antagonistic as opposed to slavishly accomodating relationship with fans makes for interesting work). I'd love to see him do a Star Trek, maybe with an Angelo Badalamenti score.

David Cronenberg--even more interesting. Can you imagine the creatures they might face? A gigantic biomechanical penis threatening the Enterprise? I've always wondered why Cronenberg and H.R. Giger never worked together--too big egos, perhaps?

Kurosawa Kyoshi--can you imagine Kirk picking up a communicator and Spock whispering in his ear "help me...help me..."

Dario Argento--hey, can you imagine the Three Mothers in space? Or what Argento might do with something like the lirpa?

Kevin Smith--feh. We're talking filmmakers.

Brian De Palma--truth to tell, I'd love to see him do this. He's done franchises before, and he's big on science, and I liked, oh, about 95% of his much reviled Mission to Mars. Plus he's the very antithesis of the fast cut and unsteady camera hand--always with the smooth dolly shots, the precisely built and paced movements, the dance of pursuer and pursued and camera (a kind of pas de trois, if you will). Plus he'd bring a sensuality to the images that I know will freak Trekkers out.

Hell, can you imagine him doing a remake of Amok Time?

"How do Vulcans choose their mates? Haven't you ever wondered?"

"I guess the rest of us assume that it's done quite logically."

Philippine Customs continues to block book imporation; responds to criticism; is responded to in return

From Manuel Quezon III's blog, a timeline of this whole brouhaha.

Most interesting is Usec Sales' latest argument for taxing books, that "there really is a provision for a 1% duty on imported books (”educational, cultural, etc.”) that are for sale and for profit" found in Sec. 105 of the Tariffs and Customs Code.

To which the Book Development Association of the Philippines replied with a document, here reproduced in full:

Position Paper of the Book Development Association of the Philippines Re: Tax and Duty Free Importation of ...

Publish at Scribd or explore others: Taxes & Accounting Business & Law ebook culture

Which basically all boils down to "the Department of Finance is breaking international and its own laws imposing this tax, the National Book Development Board has the sole authority to determine when and how and if books are to be taxed and anyway Republic Act No. 8047 is the last word on this subject."

And so matters stand. So far.

Postscript: on NPR today two members of the Obama transition team discussed his possible choice to replace Justice Souter, and, paraphrasing roughly what they said, it was significant that Obama mentioned the word 'empathy' as one of the qualities he's looking for in a new Supreme Court justice.

In effect, he's looking for someone who would look not at the letter of the law, but the intent for which the law was enacted, and its overall impact on people.

An interesting idea! If, say, Usec Sales used such a radical principle to weigh the pros and cons of her proposal to apply levies on book importation (Proposal? It's fait accompli, a done deal; like the Somali pirates, she's boarded the ship and is shaking down the crew), Sales in effect would be weighing the increase of a few million pesos in revenues (I mean, how big is the book industry in the Philippines, anyway? Certainly not bigger than the TV industry!) against the growth and development of the country's collective intellect.

A couple of pesos against a country's cultural and educational future. Does not take a genius, I think, to figure that out.

Lino Brocka films thoughout the month of May

For the entire month of May, at Magnet: Katipunan: a month-long festival of Lino Brocka's films (link includes times and schedules).
Here's my article on the affair:

Brocka unbound

Lino Brocka has helped develop or collaborated with artists and actors--Mel Chionglo, Joel Lamangan, Peque Gallaga, Laurice Guillen, Tikoy Aguiluz, Mike de Leon, Mario O'Hara, to name just a select few--who have gone on to become major filmmakers in their own right, at one point or another adopting or reacting against his brand of melodramatic realism. He's shaped generations of filmmakers who may have not worked with him but have seen his films: Raymond Red, whose Palme d'or-winning Anino (Shadows, 2000) was directly inspired by Maynila sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag (Manila in the Claws of Neon, 1975); Jeffrey Jeturian, whose Pila Balde (Fetch a Pail of Water, 1999) is a tragicomic variant on Brocka's slum dramas; Brillante Mendoza, whose internationally renowned Tirador (Slingshot, 2007)--and, for that matter, entire filmography to date--is Brocka realism set to an edgier, more contemporary rhythm; Korean filmmaker Park Kwang-su (Jeon tae-il (A Single Spark, 1995)), who cites him as an influence.

Filipino critics gives him his due, either positive or negative--Rolando Tolentino, Agustin Sotto, Bienvenido Lumbera all profess admiration for the man (Joel David, to name an opposite example, is more an admirer of Brocka's longtime rival Ishmael Bernal). Foreign critics interested in world cinema show at least a passing familiarity with his work (Charles Tesson, Dave Kehr, Elliott Stein, Tony Rayns, Pierre Rissent (who managed to save the prints of some of Brocka's best works, and helped produce one of his last films)).

Even filmmakers who refuse to declare an artistic debt to Brocka betray his imprint--Lav Diaz's kilometric works, for example, do their utmost to avoid Brocka-ish melodrama, choosing a more contemplative, less commercial running time and tone; John Torres' films experiment with a melancholic autobiographical essay structure, doing away entirely with the conventional narrative Brocka favors; Raya Martin's pictures possess a playful lyricism that you don't find in Brocka.

He is, in effect, the sun that deforms the trajectories of comets moving through his system, drawing some to the glare of his influence while driving others into frostier directions. Dead for some eighteen years, Brocka has for the past thirty-five dominated Philippine cinema.

So it's a strange and strangely moving development that only now are we having anything like a comprehensive retrospective of his work, most of them presumably on DVD or VCD (and except for the more famous films probably without English subtitles (it would be nice if someone actually listed them)), at one of Manila's more interesting small venues (Magnet Katipunan near Rustan's Supermarket, opposite Miriam College, Katipunan Road in Diliman, Quezon City). Ideally this should be an international event, to which cinephiles and critics all over the world are invited, after which there should be a world tour covering the major film cities--New York, Paris, London, Tokyo.

On the other hand, what more fitting place can there be for a Brocka retrospective than in an indie venue, frequented by students and indie filmmakers? For whom did Brocka make his movies but Filipinos, and who responded best to his films but young Filipinos hungry for something new, something good, something that spoke more urgently and frankly than ever before about sex and love and hatred and passion and cruelty? When Brocka established Cine Manila, his maiden offering Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang (You Were Judged and Found Wanting, 1974) was a hit reportedly because he marketed it to students, to the hopeful and curious young. He would not have the same critical and commercial success ever again--some of his greatest works were boxoffice flops, while his more solidly commercial hits lacked the depth of feeling, the bleak yet somehow defiant sensibility that informs his finest films.

He made money; he was too good a filmmaker and too cunning an entertainer not to do that. He also lost a lot of money--"Mother" Lily Monteverde, head of Regal Films, tells stories of how she would lend him cash or even throw a project his way because he was up to his ears in debt. He made friends--sadly I had the privilege to shake his hand only once, to remind him that my identical twin brother once worked for him ("Oh," he said; "that's why you look familiar."); he also, or so it's told, made a lot of enemies, some of them the right kind (Marcos in his later years, Aquino when she lost control of the vigilante forces patrolling the countryside), some of them wrong.

And he made for great stories. I don't just mean the movies; I mean all the anecdotes about him, about half of which were true (did he really audition with a now-famous Hollywood star, for the leading roles an award-winning Hollywood film?); he died in a car crash in 1991, and even his death is shrouded in mystery (Was it an accident? An assassination?). If half the stories about Brocka are true, his life whould be a fabulous story--wonderful material for a biopic, someday, done perhaps in an approximation of his unique heartfelt style.

And then there are the films themselves.

It's a pity the organizers didn't arrange the films chronologically; it would be instructive to see his development in four short years from successful commercial director (Wanted: Perfect Mother (1970)--which isn't showing, pity; Santiago (also 1970)) to master filmmaker (Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang onwards).

The three years from Tinimbang to Insiang (1976) represent the height of his career, when each year he seemed to come out with a masterpiece, along with fascinating lesser works (one of which, Tatlo, Dalawa, Isa (Three, Two, One, 1974) is in this retro). They are arguably the apex of achievement in Philippine cinema, three attempts at dramatizing the Filipino struggle for love and acceptance in a hostile world, from a panoramic portrait of a small town (Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang) to a man's odyssey through the urban jungle (Maynila sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag) to a young woman's harrowing betrayal (Insiang). I'd made the argument before that the heart of the Filipino is basically melodramatic, that these three films represent melodrama at its finest, that Brocka's sense of realism and urgency (you get the sense that he shot these pictures just outside the theater and delivered them, still steaming, straight to the big screen) helps sell these melodramas as absolute truth. The three are found in the retro's last weekend, apparently to finish the festival on a high note. Those unfamiliar with Brocka might want to keep that weekend free; the rest might want to look at his earlier, lesser-known films.

Santiago is his recently re-discovered second picture, his only war film, and his only collaboration with legendary action king Fernando Poe, Jr.; it's fascinating for the portrait of the social outcast Brocka sketches, an early model for the more complex version he will develop four years later, with Tinimbang.

Stardoom (1971), a showbiz melodrama about a mother's all-consuming obsession with her son's singing career, features a great pair of performances from Lolita Rodriguez as the mother and Mario O'Hara as her unwanted son. Tubog sa Ginto (Dipped in Gold, also 1971) was re-discovered in 2006, and is an adaptation of the Mars Ravelo story of a husband leading a double life, notable for its retro-progressive (retro for today, progressive for '71) attitude towards closeted gay men.

Tatlo, Dalawa, Isa is a triptych of short films ranging from a drug rehabilitation drama to a young woman torn between her Filipino mother and American father to a rare gothic piece about an old spinster fascinated with her handsome gardener.

The recently found Ang Tatay Kong Nanay (My Father is My Mother, 1978) is arguably as if not more interesting than Tubog sa Ginto in that it presents the gay man as a possible parent figure; it's also the only collaboration between Brocka and comic legend Dolphy.

Ina, Kapatid, Anak (Mother, Sister, Daughter, 1979) pits two acting legends (Charito Solis and Lolita Rodriguez) with two radically different acting styles (one flamboyantly theatrical, the other naturalistic and understated) against each other, playing rival sisters. Ina Ka ng Anak Mo (You are the Mother of Your Child, same year) is a middle-class version of Insiang that combines the talents of Brocka with writer/playwright Butch Dalisay, Jr., and actresses Lolita Rodriguez with Nora Aunor. The film, incidentally, is critic Augustin Sotto's favorite Brocka. Jaguar (1979)--based on a Nick Joaquin essay ("The Boy Who Wanted to Become Society"), adapted for the screen by Pete Lacaba and Ricky Lee, and featuring Conrado Baltazar camerawork at its brutally darkest, is arguably Brocka's finest noir film.

Bona (1980)--of all the roles singer/actress/producer/uber-celebrity Nora Aunor ever played, she will probably be best known for two: Elsa, the miracle worker in Ishmael Bernal's Himala (Miracle, 1982) and this, the story of a young woman's obsession over a minor movie actor. Brocka's urban slum version of Francois Truffaut's L'Histoire d'Adele H. (The Story of Adele H., 1975) was for many years the least seen of Brocka's major works (a print was only recently made available). Brocka would be inspired by Truffaut at least one more time, taking his La mariee etait en noir" (The Bride Wore Black, 1968) and retelling it through a "komiks" series by Carlos J. Caparas. The result is Angela Markado (1980), which features gorgeous noir cinematography by Conrado Baltazar and memorable theme music by Jeric Soriano.

Kontrobersyal (Controversial, 1981), Brocka's potboiler about the rise of a starlet (Gina Alajar) is the quintessential rags-to-riches, prey-turned-predator story, brimming with true-life anecdotes and an authentically acerbic sense of the seamier side of show business. The film, it must be noted, is UP Film Institute programmer and critic Nonoy Lauzon's favorite of Brocka's pictures.

Bayan Ko: Kapit sa Patalim (My Country, 1984) is, along with Mike de Leon's Sister Stellla L (1984), one of a handful of mainstream films that had the courage to openly criticize the Marcos regime. Both films' screenplays were by auteur-screenwriter Jose "Pete" Lacaba.

Miguelito, ang Batang Rebelde (Miguelito the Rebel, 1985) is remembered for being the first time popular movie idol Aga Muhlach essayed a dramatic role, the son of a potentially corrupt political figure; the film should really be known for the wonderful pair of performances by the late Nida Blanca (as Miguelito's convict mother), and Rey "PJ" Abellana (as one of the father's political henchmen).

With Babangon Ako't Dudurugin Kita (I Will Rise and Crush You, 1989) Brocka tried to do for Sharon Cuneta what he did for Aga Muhlach; the results were a mixed bag if you're not a Sharon fan (which I'm not, unfortunately). Macho Dancer (also 1989) is considerably better, a noir involving erotic male dancers with memorable performances by Jacklyn Jose and Daniel Fernando. Possibly the best film Brocka made that year, however (it was a busy year) was Orapronobis (Pray for Us), Brocka's considerably courageous statement on Corazon Aquino, the housewife who helped break strongman Ferdinand Marcos's stranglehold on the Philippine presidency--namely, that her political ineptitude was in some ways worse than Marcos' corrupt despotism (the film would be banned for years by the Aquino administration). Partly funded by the French, written with sinewy leanness by Pete Lacaba and lensed by Mike de Leon regular Rody Lacap, the film had a distinct look and feel unlike any other Filipino film of the decade, and is a late high point in Brocka's career.

Gumapang Ka sa Lusak (Dirty Affair, 1990)--this melodramatic take on the last few years of the Marcos administration is arguably Brocka's last decent work. It is notable for Christopher de Leon's understated performance as the outlaw hero, and for Charo Santos' memorably sociopathic performance as an Imelda Marcos parody.

First published in Businessworld, 5.8.09

Sherad Anthony Sanchez's "Imburnal" wins the JIFF Woosuk Award

Sherad Anthony Sanchez's Imburnal (2009) which screened in the just concluded Jeonju International Film Festival has won both the Woosuk and NETPAC award.

The film is an over four hour long nonlinear digital film about two boys who spend (or misspend) their childhood hanging out in a sewage ditch in Barangay Matina Aplaya, Punta Dumalog, in Davao. They curse, talk about sex, collect cockroaches in jars, and (arguably the most disturbing image of all) bathe in the ditch's filthy waters.

The film has had its share of controversy. It was rejected three times by the Movies and Television Ratings Board (MTRCB) for its "objectionable presentation" of poverty (Which makes one wonder what the board would have thought of the films of Lino Brocka--most of which portray poverty, and which former First Lady Imelda Marcos objected to because they portrayed the Philippines in an unfavorable light (the board also seems to have inspired other government agencies on their policies regarding the encouragement of intellectual and cultural freedom).

The NETPAC and Woosuk Award jurors must have seen more than mere shock value in the film, however. The film was chosen "because it fulfills the progressive spirit of the JIFF: it is an innovative, experimental, even miraculous work, a unique blend of documentary and fiction, which returns us to the fundamental question of the past and the future: what is cinema?"

The Woosuk Award comes with a $10,000.00 prize. The film also won the Best Picture at the 4th Cinema One Originals Digital Film Festival, and the Lino Brocka Grand Prize at the 10th Cinemanila International Film Festival.

Philippine Customs blocking imported books

A blog post from Robin Henley, University of Iowa Creative Writing professor on a fellowship in the Philippines:

Philippine Customs imposes illegal duties on imported books

Setting aside the impression one gets that the reasoning behind their duty-happy spree is idiotic (that 'missing coma the Undersecretary points out being a particularly brilliant piece of idiocy--one wants to check her educational credentials), and setting aside the fact that if one more copy of Stephanie Myer's moronic Twilight never lands on the Philippines I'd be a happier Filipino, there are serious consequences to this development.

Like the curtailment of knowledge between countries. Like a further financial burden on educational or cultural organizations (never much of a priority for governments, mind you) that depend on these books. Like students or youths or anyone even remotely interested in a subject that might require a book suddenly finding themselves out of luck, because someone insists on hanging government policy on a missing comma.

Shame, shame.

Postscript: a cursory google search reveals several blogs discussing the subject, including an excellent one on the legal ramifications. Problem is, though, they all quote the same source (that website I link to above) and I haven't spotted (yet) a major Filipino newspaper covering the story. So in case this whole thing's a hoax (I don't know, it just so sounds like the government), For the record, I at least entertained the possibility.

Sansho the Bailiff, Come Drink with Me, Two Lovers

James Gray in an interview says The Yards (2000) came out of his father's job of supplying parts to the New York subway system, that Little Odessa (1994) and We Own the Night (2007) came out of years growing up knowing Russian gangsters, that We Own the Night also came from the fact that his stepbrother was a police officer. In the case of his latest film Two Lovers (2008) the project is, or so he claims, his least autobiographical and most personal work to date.