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The 27th Annual Circle Citations for Distinguished Achievement in Film for 2016

 

2016_YCC program cover

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Posted by on 29/04/2017 in Uncategorized

 

Northern Nocturne: Critique of “Malinak Ya Labi”

J. Pilapil Jacobo

If there is any inflection of cinema that can grasp the truth of the tropics, no other perspective can lay claim to the apprehension but a film from the region, or from a province or district that essays the particularity of filmmaking from a singular location. What else can intuit the idiom of a zone but a vernacular audition of the world that protects the rapture of place and at the same time incites the rhapsodic instance to vanish at the time of enravishment?

Jose Abdel Langit’s “Malinak Ya Labi” is the first Pangasinan narrative film, and it may also be the first contemporary Filipino motion picture to have understood what it means to be situated in the equatorial tropics, or at least from the latitude of, let’s say, Binobolinao. And yet, while the truth that is disclosed as folk may be misconstrued as always already torrid, the region of the ravage is demonstrated as something beyond the sweetness of summer or the melancholy of monsoon. The moment of the tropic is night. And its site is northern.

If the Kapampangan poetic of “Ari: My Life With A King” is premised on “Atin Cu Pung Singsing,” Langit’s “Malinak Ya Labi” affirms that the regional film can only ground its vision on folk tonality and the dissonances that can be heard as it runs contrapuntally along the syncopations of the modern.

Some translations of the condition of “linak” may gesture toward a state of “peacefulness,” but the film insists on a more fundamental supplement to music: “silence.” However, unlike Adolf Alix’s “Kalayaan,” where the interval colonizes the auditory landscape until cinema itself is aurally fixated with its own chiasmic duress, “Malinak Ya Labi” accepts silence as a principle of sound itself, where voice, rhythm, noise are habituated to imagine a sense of ambience, answer what surrounds the tropical world, and open up the discourse of the tropical time that eviscerates what is commonplace in a scopophiliac relation to the tropical image.

Visuality is further abducted by the contiguity that is demanded as soon as the “linak” turns opaque, into “labi”; the negative is attracted to itself, and yet the coupling does not accumulate into absence. “Malinak Ya Labi” demarcates its region of ravage as a northern nocturne, in the silence of salt, through the fioriture of ferment. How does a saltflower bloom under the Pangasinan moon?

As in “Ari,” we don’t get to hear the song of the folk till the end, but “Malinak” rigorously frames the sonorous sensibility of the film. The rubric of the “silent night” transposes itself through the various tonal themes framing episodes of the narrative. The most dramatic of these musical incarnations is an operatic piece scored in the middle of a riot one carnival night. I do not have access to the Pangasinan lyric right now (that would enable me to engage the music philologically), but the translation of the aria sung by a spinto refers to “night” conceiving “daylight”; a “star” as a “smile of the dark”; and ultimately, the lunar “heart” eclipsing into its balsamic “night.” What logic of the trope would subsume solarity under all things umbral? The afternoon in the southern manor as axiomatic moment of the languorous dalliance no longer constitutes the pivot of the tropic day. From a promontory along the narrowest northern strait,”Malinak Ya Labi” celebrates the gibbous event!

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Althea Vega in a scene from “Malinak Ya Labi”

Pangasinan tropicality supervenes the possibility of romance and of course an erotic with the premise of “bagat,” the blood sacrifice that is offered to an edifice so that the spirits won’t imperil the integrity of building. The source of the blood is decidedly animal, but “Malinak Ya Labi” complicates the matter by telling a story of how a child was stolen on the eve of the feast of Saint Michael the Archangel, and whose body was left as “bagat” to inaugurate a bridge connecting a quaint isle and the Pangasinan mainland. The gift is itself poison; and the time given in exchange for the toxin can no longer deceive borrowed life. Silent is the northern night, and the tropical truth it can only reveal is terminal. The moon waxes red for the death of an innocent. Welcome to the necrotropics!

Lorenzo Fernandez Cosgaya’s “Diccionario Pangasinan-Español” (1865) defines “bagat” as “sacrificio, ofrenda, convite.” The colonial lexicon carries the divinity of the present in the Latin senses of “sacrificus” (from sacer: holy) and “offere” (to God) as dimensions of the Pangasinan gift that is “bagat,” while the sense of community in “convivium” enlarges the sacrifice/offering as tribal, a pact made by the collective on behalf of its members; as a gift whose scale is total, “bagat,” pace Marcel Mauss, is indeed potlatch. If what is served in the banquet is none the less human blood, who sits at the head of the table? God?

We are told about the hours leading to the child’s death through shifting perspectives arrayed to us in a series of intertwined vignettes on the lives of certain figures in the town of Putot (Severed): Domingo, husband of carnival mermaid; Amanda, naïve but devoted schoolteacher; Salvador, sweet-talking soldier; Silvano, saltmaker; Teofilo, fortune teller; and Emmanuel, who becomes the “bagat.”

A common figure in these tales of the Pangasinan everyday is Carmen, the collector of bets who is grandmother to Emmanuel and wife to Teofilo. We never know whether Carmen finds Emmanuel’s body, but she navigates a day in the town attending wakes and requiem masses, while gossiping about the dead and speculating on how certain numerical combinations on death instances might spell good fortune for the living. As we follow through the forlorn lives of the folk, we discover that deaths of children, young women, and old men have been random and regular in Putot town, and somehow, the storytelling persuades us to realize that everyone has been complicit with a culture of impunity. The necrotropic has seeped into habit.

As a folk song, “Malinak Ya Labi” describes how on a “silent night,” someone awakes with a longing for a beloved long absent from the dreamer’s life. The desire does not debilitate, however, as the remembrance banishes sorrow from the heart (Napunaslan ami’y ermen ya ag bibiten). To protect the memory of the love is the point of loving (in fact, in the absence of the beloved, to remember one performs the requisite passion), and remembrance possesses an acumen that might transcend the incipience of death (No nodnonoten ko ray samit day ugalim/Agtaka nalingwanan, anggad kaoyos na bilay

Langit’s “Malinak” transforms the song of his folk into an elegy; the film becomes a work of mourning, because the filmmaker’s grief is crystalline, like the salt of his earth. If the gift that must be received is death, the only way to love is to refuse forgetting. “Triste tropiques,” again and again. And how lovely is the loneliness! Its time is attenuated, like the salt of the fish that is made pure inside the jar that houses the ferment. Within that ecliptic space, the universe is always turning, darkly, into the vast silence, where love is most touching: “Ta pilit na pusok ya sika lay amamayoen.”

 
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Posted by on 21/11/2016 in Uncategorized

 

In Hora Mortis Nostrae: Critique of “Hinulid”

J. Pilapil Jacobo

There is a scene in Kristian Sendon Cordero’s sophomore film “Hinulid” that manifests the predicament of mourning the narrative seeks to work through in its iterations of how forlorn the human can be when abandoned permanently through that event: death.

It is dusk in Iriga. Sita Dimaiwat (Nora Aunor) passes through the cemetery arch on which the Latin phrase “Via Omni Caris” is painted; the bodiless may not cross. Sepulchres are built not to hold the remains of the departed; the mausoleum is such a place, because we are all alone, we fear ourselves also fading. Do not leave just yet; here, a monument. Through a labyrinth of marmoreal tombs, Aunor blends in with the shades of a tropic crepuscule: ochre, as the evanescent sun; obsidian, like the night’s mantle. When she finds her son Lukas (Jesus Mendoza) weeping before the epitaph of his big winner, the priest Mamo (Raffi Banzuela), she enters a frame of grief: she sees the one she has yet to mourn for, mourning.

That the rhythms of sorrow commingle in this instance points to the opportunity where the film locates the time where one is entitled to grieve—memory, that interregnum in the mind where one labors too hard to come to terms with passage: what has gone is not only lost; it is foregone to be found as missing. Even when the injury is not total, the site of ruin tells us: here lies all the hurt, every inch speaks of an unendurable damage. One asks: Did it happen? Was he here? Were all of it true? The moment of provenance is only staged in the instance of yearning.

Cordero is most anxious to pursue this cusp of thought that he conjures the memorialization through a mode of retrieval that reduces intimations of previous horizons of expectations to a mere if not a modest proposal.

The mourning is grounded in a myth of how galactic light is split between maternal brilliance and cherubic luminosity and how the earth registers this scission upon a meteorite isle where fireflies surrender their final blaze. This cosmogonic parabasis internalized as local knowledge is inlaid with a colonial narrative of christological interment: the Messiah is dead, yes, but thrice, as a statuary of identical eburnean figures clothed in vermilion radiance and encased in cuboid glass. Such triplication is a mnemonic to refuse the telos of a sorrowful mystery, much like the melismatic ululations of the folk which decorate elegiac enjambments of the Pasyon quintilla and prevent the lyric from punctuating itself quite predictably, in prosopopeiac loneliness. It has to be said that while this aspect of colonial idiom is now read as a gesture of sufferance that choreographs revolutionary movements, what remains to be articulated is how dolorous maternity intervenes in activating intransigence. “Hinulid” could fulfill that feminine reading of the passion.

It is quite strange that while it is Sita who is portrayed as sorrowful, the dolefulness is not demonstrated according to her lamentational terms. Instead, the agony is projected upon her through this Christ thrice interred. This puts into question the memory that her consciousness is supposed to verify as the truth of her mourning. Sita needs to grieve a dead son thrice: the precocious sacristan, the awkward teen poet, the brooding student of law. What is amplified by this triplication? I’m trying to remember Nora’s face through the three hours of Cordero’s Bikol epic and for the first time, after all those years, Aunor registers vacancy. There is magnification, yes. Mourning becomes Nora, and thrice so. Each time this is staged however, in distinction (her moments of grief delineated through the avatars of his dead son), or in simultaneity (the bereavement syncopated in ternary rhythm), the dolour, because of the imposed repetition, is not pithy.

This peculiar Santo Entierro will only make sense if its triplication can be argued to originate from the Mater Dolorosa herself, and in a relation of correspondence that is less reaction than receipt. The peculiarity of this Pieta should also be mariologically immanent. If Christ could die thrice, of course, Mary should mourn in the same time signature. Nonetheless, the cinema of “Hinulid” must also elaborate how dolorous maternity is thrice possible from a Marian perspective. After all, the narrative is told by Sita, not from her son dying through three ages. The film cannot be assumed to be told “de profundis.”

Fray Marcos de Lisboa’s “Vocabulario de la lengua Bicol” defines “holid” as “recostar al niño en el regazo, o en la cuna.” To lay a child on one’s lap, or in his crib: these are acts of maternal nurturance. And yet this scene also makes sense as the Pieta, inasmuch as it exudes that moment of the Nativity. If Sita must inter her son thrice, it is because his death reminds her of the emptiness of her womb through his childhood, boyhood, youth. His death finally affirms the terminus of her being a woman. Hollowed out by loss, she embodies a desert longing. This must be Aunor’s late style thesis. My well of loneliness has been depleted. I am nothing. I have known all manner of fatigue. I was all womb before. Now, let me be his sepulchre.

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And yet: Can this strange fruit return to me, a flower that has long faded? Did my body bear him only for this burial? Was my immaculate conception, my freedom from an originary offense, only a forethought to understanding this emptiness, my blessed virginity as sarcophagus? Did I visit Elizabeth to know of this gift, to be arid once more for the seed of my universal fertility?

Sita mourns the 1) body of her son: 2) the memory of the body she has reared; 3) and her own obsolescence, which she must remember and grieve in advance. Pace Blanchot, one is never present at one’s own death. If his son has faded ahead of her, the hour of her own death looms large in solitariness. Nora’s eyes are vacant to honor the imminence.

What is assumed in the Assumption is mariological mortality. Cordero’s catholic text recuperates such orthodoxy by intending to depict in the triplication the dormition of a conduit of divine indigeneity. Theotokos ruminates on that insight: Thanatos. Now we finally understand that Maria Purissima only ripens to intuit her own deliquescence.

Notwithstanding the truth that mourning the memory of the dearly departed can only be worked through intimately, the secrecy of grief must not be reduced to the sheer privations of the domestic. Memory is not stronger than justice. Memory is as strong as justice. If Cordero has written a screed against the capillaries of power through an indictment of a matrix of institutions which plot the murder of its most thoughtful activists, then an autopsy of power must be demanded, perhaps not through the parabolic distensions of folklore, but within a critical ethnography similar to Nancy Scheper Hughes’s study on “death without weeping” among mothers in a Brazilian necropolis. That Sita refuses the activation of social justice from this instance of motherly hurt turns the critique of institutional power into a perfunctory exercise of grievance that masks a reactionary undercurrent. If homo necans is explained as he is, a person who murders, killing outside the realm of law and in spite of it, now makes fatal sense. If Mary failed to seek justice against Judaic theocracy within Roman imperial jurisprudence, repetitions of such violation of sacred motherhood must be worked out in the post-colonial world, in our case, through the vernacular revolutions of the Pasyon traumaturgy.

“Hinulid” is a cinematic epic from Bikol, particularly a contact zone between the antipodes of catholic Naga and folk Legazpi; Rinconada, where the writer-director and the actress were born and raised, is the linguistic consciousness that seeks its visual form in the film. Iriga becomes the city full of grace. The literary education of the filmmaker entitles him to graft discourses of faith and science through a high modernist mode of narration characterized by heterochrony, expressionism, and a self-conscious system of trope-turning, so that metaphor becomes the principle of argument to argue for the transformation of the screenplay into an allegory of spirit whose rhetoricity takes over the exigencies of montage and mis-en-scène. The cornucopia of symbolic possibilities can be overwhelming, to the point that a scene becomes vacuous time-space. Guillermo Abrenica’s cinematographic approach understands Cordero’s vision of tropical languor and the tedium that such slowness entails. His camera, assisted by the scopic talents of Sherwin Cañamero, may be encumbered by immobility, but he allows portraits and still lives to occupy a landscape by turns verdant and grey, at times punctuated by the cardinal choices of art directors Ryan Cuatrona and Celine Belino to portray christophanic hemorrhage. Alec Figuracion’s editorial decisions are precise, seizure of distinctions and simultaneities is indefatigable, although sometimes almost undercut by Cordero’s desire to sprint against himself, as co-editor. The acting ensemble superbly orchestrates a heteroglossic tone variegating on the singular sentiment of melancholy, although Eilyn Nidea is most seductive as a high priestess of the mountains, Jess Volante’s Homeric exhortations are bone-piercing, and Delia Enverga’s crone-mother accesses the sublime objects of the funerary. Raffi Banzuela’s aphoristic style is peerless; he is also perspicacious as a trickster within the Church. Kirby Pala’s purity can disperse the darkest skepticism, while Ken Balmes’s recitals of Gerard Manley Hopkins interlocute the impressionable and the cynical inflections of Lukas’s persona; his caesuras can be full of breath. Jesus Mendoza’s nose is as almost perfect as the Mayon’s cone, but his emotive depths are as various as the Buhi lake. His ultimate version of Lukas is a romantic genius who cannot jump into the crucible of the infinite, because human, all too human to fail as lover and beloved.

In “Hinulid,” Nora Aunor returns to Bikol to mourn thrice, and die along that tropic percussion, against her own will, but in concert with the heart. Those eyes are vacated by sentimentality for the most part, because Sita’s condition pertains to the emotional fragment. The voice is broken, yes, but there must have been so much bliss in the chance to speak in the tongue of her earth, where her agonies and ecstasies remain untethered, through the language of her art made contemporary with the world and vernacular to history by this terrible son of her own homeland, Kristian Sendon Cordero. Memory is stronger than cinema.

 
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Posted by on 24/10/2016 in Uncategorized

 

Pagkilala sa Pinakamahusay na Tunog at Orkestrasyong Awral ng 2015

J. Pilapil Jacobo

Tinutukoy ng kategoryang Pinakamahusay na Tunog at Orkestrasyong Awral ang paglalapat ng mga aspektong may kinalaman sa tunog sa pelikula, musika, likas na tunog, sound effects, habang ang mga ito ay sumasalungat o inaayon sa lengguwahe ng mga imahen, at kung gayon ay nagiging makahulugang sistema ng pananagisag mismo. Iginagawad ang pagkilala sa sound engineer at sa tagapaglapat ng musika.

Nominado sina:

Gilbert Obispo at Jake Abella, para sa pelikulang Ari: My Life With A King, kung saan lubos na malikhain ang pagtatanghal sa matandang tradisyon ng panulaang Kapampangan na nakabatay sa taludturang pakikipagtalo ng Crissotan bilang sugpungan ng palatunugang bayan na patuloy na umuugat sa mga hangarin ng awiting bayan na “Atin Cu Pung Singsing” at sa mga ingay at katahimikang itinakda ng masakunang buhay sa paligid ng bulkan at baha.

Nominado rin sina:

Addis Tabong at Francis Concio para sa pelikulang Halik sa Hangin, na muling pinaigting ang mga pangungusap at pakiusap na kasangkot sa romantikong pag-uulayawan ng mga nilalang na magkaiba man ang mundo ay nauuwi pa rin ang palitan sa wagas na kapusukan ng puso ng tao. Napakatimyas ng talinghaga ng gitara bilang hudyat ng pagkakataon para sa pag-ibig na nilalagom ng pamaksang awitin na itinanghal ni Ebe Dancel, ang “Halik sa Hangin.”

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Ang videoke (awitin ni Yoyoy Villame at imahe ni Kidlat Tahimik) sa Balikbayan # 1 Memories of Overdevelopment Redux III 

 

Subalit ang Pinakamahusay na Tunog at Orkestrasyong Awral para sa Taong Pampelikula ng 2015 ay iginagawad kina:

Ed de Guia, Los Indios de España, at Shanto para sa pelikulang Balikbayan # 1 Memories of Overdevelopment Redux III, na sa kanyang post-kolonyal kasaysayan ng ating bayan, ay naisasaysay rin ang salimbayan ng mga tunog, himig, at pananahimik na nagbibigay ng salimuot sa paggalugad ng ating abot-malay sa magiting na tinig ng pakikihamok at kalayaan. Mula sa palitan ng gangsa at ng plawta, sa ingay ng mga awiting bumubulwak mula sa mga makina, sa hindi matatawarang balintuna ni Yoyoy Villame, at pati na rin ng mga impit at ng mga hiningang nakapaloob sa mga wikang Tagalog, Ilokano, Bisaya, sa mga katagang nagugumiit ng kaibang salaysay mula sa Cordillera, sa mga matalas ngunit mapinsalang idyoma ng Espanyol at Ingles, matagumpay na naitutugtog ang isang makabuluhang sipat sa talatinigang bayan na sa pandinig ng laging may hinuha, hinding hindi mapapara.

 
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Posted by on 12/10/2016 in Uncategorized

 

Pagkilala sa Pinakamahusay na Sinematograpiya at Disenyong Biswal ng 2015

Jema M. Pamintuan

Siyam na pelikula ang  nominado para sa Pinakamahusay sa Sinematograpiya at Disenyong Biswal ng taong 2015, at ang mga ito ay ang sumusunod na mga pelikula:

Sa Bambanti, ang distansya sa pagitan ng bayan at bukid ay nagtanghal rin ng agwat sa mga nagtutunggaliang uri; sa An Kubo sa Kawayanan, kinasangkapan ang mayamang topograpiya ng Kabikulan upang maghatid ng naratibo hinggil sa pananatili at paglisan, preserbasyon ng kulturang lokal at pakikisabay sa kultura ng labas; sa Halik sa Hangin, may ginhawang hatid ang mga lambingan sa pagitan ng mayayabong na puno ng Baguio, gayundin, may lunggating mababanaag mula sa inaagiw at madilim na tahanan ng multo. Nakapagitna ang sementeryo sa diyalogo ng aliw at lungkot na pinagdaanan ng pamilya sa Da Dog Show, at instrumental ang maliit na baryong pinagtanghalan ng byukon (byuti contest) upang maging lunsaran ng marhinalisasyon ng kaakuhan ng tauhan sa Miss Bulalacao. Ang galawgaw na kamera sa Salvage ay umangkop sa ritmo ng maaaksyon at walang kapagurang salaysay ng pangkat; at nasa krudong estilo at tekstura ng pelikulang Taklub nabigyang artikulasyon ang imahen ng unos at pananalantang nagdulot ng dalamhati sa lalawigan ng Tacloban. Sa salitan naman ng super 8mm at sepia, gayundin sa materyal na kultura ng dekada 80, masasalat ang personal at politikal na ligalig sa Mga Rebeldeng may Kaso.

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Gayumpaman, natatangi sa lahat ang pelikulang Balikbayan #1: Memories of Overdevelopment.

Ang nakaraan at kasalukuyang pinaksa ng naratibo ay malikhaing tinalunton ng iba’t ibang antas ng gaspang at kinis ng tekstura ng kamera na nagtanghal ng  pagpapatung-patong ng mga imahen.  at  nagbigay ng panibagong kulay sa mga nauna nang  nailuwal na eksena. Dinala tayo ng mga kamera mula sa mga pay-yaw ng Cordillera hanggang sa mga palasyo ng Europa, sa pamamagitan ng metikulosong pagdidisenyo ng produksyon, ng mga tagpuan, kasuotan, at materyal na kultura, na bagaman sa unang malas ay masasabing nagmula sa magkakaibang yugto ng kasaysayan, ay hindi pa rin pinaghiwalay ng agwat ng panahon at lunan. Ang interbensyon, tagisan, gayundin, pagbubuklod, ng luma at bagong teknolohiya ng pamemelikula ay nagtanghal ng magkakaiba ngunit magkakabigkis ring mga lente, na nag-anyaya sa mga manonood tungo sa nakawiwili at matalas na paggalugad sa pakahulugan ng mga misteryo at piraso ng ating pambansa at personal na kasaysayan. Tulad ng nililikha ng mosaic artist sa pelikula, naunawaan natin ang posibilidad ng pakikisanib ng mga anyo, padron, at larawan,  sa mga  salita at wika, sa mga salaysay ng nakaraan at kasalukuyan, sa mga, biswal na sining, oral at nakasulat na panitikan, upang bumuo ng isang ganap at malinaw na hulagway.

Para sa taong 2015, iginagawad ng Young Critics Circle Film Desk sa Balikbayan # 1: Memories of Overdevelopment, ang Pinakamahusay sa Sinematograpiya at Disenyong Biswal. Isang pangkat ng mga alagad ng sining ang nagkaroon ng kolaborasyon upang maihatid sa mga manonood ang sala-salabid at mayamang kuwento ng kasaysayang nakasandal sa iba’t ibang perspektiba: malugod na pagbati kina Boy Yniguez, Lee Briones Meilly, Abi Lara, Santos Bayucca, Kidlat de Guia, Kawayan de Guia, at Kidlat Tahimik para sa sinematograpiya; at para sa disenyong pamproduksyon, Kidlat Tahimik, at Katrin de Guia.

 
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Posted by on 26/09/2016 in Uncategorized

 

Pagkilala sa Pinakamahusay na Editing ng 2015

Skilty Labastilla

Pito ang nominado sa kategoryang pinakamahusay na editing ng 2015.

Ayon sa batayan ng YCC, ang naturang gawad ay tumutukoy sa “konpigurasyon ng mga ugnayan ng panahon at espasyo sa mga eksena sa isang pelikulang may kakayahang maglagom, makitunggali, bumuo at bumaklas ng mga pagkakaugnay, sa pamamagitan ng masalimuot na paggamit ng mise-en-scene at montage.”

Tila napakalaking hamon ang pagtabas ng isang pelikulang napaka-personal at napakaraming footage katulad ng Balikbayan #1, ang obra ni Kidlat Tahimik na sinimulan niyang buuin noong 1979 at hanggang ngayon ay maaaring ituring na work-in-progress pa rin. Ngunit matagamupay na nalampasan ang hamon na ito ng ng mga editor na sina Charlie Fugunt, Abi Lara, Chuck Gutierrez, Clang Sison, at Malaya Camporedondo, sa pamamagitan ng paggalang nila sa pananaw ni G. Tahimik at sa kanilang mapaglarong pagtagpi-tagpi ng mga imahen, mapaluma man o makabago.

Sa Da Dog Show, halos hindi mamamalayan ng manonood ang pagputol ng mga eksena: sumusunod lang tayo sa kung saan tayo dalhin ng kwento ng isang naghihikahos na pamilya na nagnanais mabuong muli. Tanda ito ng husay ng pagkakatahi ng mga eksena ni Kats Serraon.

Sa Halik sa Hangin, sinamantala ni Beng Bandong ang yaman ng Star Cinema at ang maraming kamera at artipisyal na ilaw nito sa pagpili ng pinakamaayos na mga anggulo at kuha ng pagganap ng mga aktor, disenyong pamproduksiyon, at ng setting mismo sa Baguio, at nagbunga ito ng isang mainstream na pelikulang kaaya-ayang panoorin.

Nagtagumpay si Benjamin Tolentino ng Pinakamahusay na Editing sa YCC noong nakaraang taon para sa Mariquina, at sa pelikulang An Kubo sa Kawayanan, pinamalas niya ulit ang kanyang husay sa pamamagitan ng matalinong pagtatagpi at pagtakda ng mahinahon, banayad ngunit hindi nakakabagot na ritmo sa kabukiran ng Bikol.

Sa Mga Rebeldeng May Kaso, dinala tayo nina Raymond Red at Erwin Toledo, mga editor ng pelikula, sa Dekada 80, kung saan umuusbong pa lang ang eksenang alternative cinema sa Pilipinas, sa kanilang maliksi at nakaka-engganyong paghabi ng isang kwento ng magbabarkada na nahalina sa kagalakan ng pamemelikula.

Natural ang pagkatuto ng editing ng isang dokumentarista: sa pagkalap pa lang nito ng mga datos, panayam, at imahen, natutukoy na niya ang gusto niyang ipakita sa manonood. Ngunit alam ng isang mahusay na editor na hindi kailangang palaging tuwid at madaling sundan ang isang dokumentaryo, at sa Shapes of Crimson, malikhaing pinapakita ni EJ Mijares ang araw-araw na pamumuhay ng isang aktibistang manunulat na si Boni Ilagan, at ang kanyang masinop na pagpili ng footage ang nagsilbi mismong screenplay ng kanyang dokumentaryo.

salvage

Ang pelikulang Salvage ay binuo bilang isang found footage, na kunyari ang pinapanood nating pelikula ay tuloy-tuloy na kuha ng isang news crew na naging biktima ng salvage sa Mindanao at pinapanood natin ang laman ng kanilang naiwang camera. Dahil dito, kinailangang magmukha talagang hindi pinutol ang mga kuha, at para sa isang 90-minutong pelikula, hindi ito madaling i-edit, lalo pa kung eksperimental ang porma ng pelikula. Nagtagumpay si Lawrence Ang sa pagmanipula ng pelikula para magmistula itong isang bangungot na ayaw magpagising. Sa mabisang paggamit ng quick cuts at juxtaposition ng mga imaheng hindi inaasahan ng manonood, napatingkad ng editing ang pakiramdam na naroon mismo tayo sa gubat na naging hugpungan ng kababalaghan at karahasan.

Iginagawad ang pinakamahusay na editing kay G. Lawrence Ang para sa Salvage.

 
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Posted by on 25/09/2016 in Uncategorized

 

Pagkilala sa Pinakamahusay na Pagganap ng 2015

Emerald Flaviano

Tumutukoy ang gawad sa pagganap ng isang papel o karakter na nagsasangkot ng emosyon, damdamin, at karanasan sa mga panlipunang kondisyon ng personal at sa politikal na ekonomiya ng kaugalian at kilos, at kung paano nakatutulong ang mga ito sa pagsasakatauhan ng sarili. Ipinagkakaloob ang Pinakamahusay na Pagganap sa Gumanap, lalaki o babae, matanda o bata, sa isang pangunahin o pang-suportang papel, sa indibidwal o kolektibong pagganap.

Ang mga Nominado:

Walang kupas si Nora Aunor sa Taklub (Brillante Ma. Mendoza, 2015). Bilang ang naulilang si Bebeth, dinakila ni Aunor ang mga nasalanta ng bagyong Yolanda na patuloy pa ring nabubuhay—at tumutulong sa kapwang mabuhay—sa kabila at sa gitna ng pagkawasak ng kabuhayan at pamilya.

Magkaibang mga babae si Mercedes Cabral sa An Kubo sa Kawayanan (Alvin Yapan, 2015) at Da Dog Show (Ralston Jover, 2015), pero parehong ginampanan ni Cabral ang dalawang papel ng may ambag sa pagpapalalim ng danas ng pagkababae. Matimpi at self-possessed ang dalagang si Michelle na malaya sa kanyang pagkalas sa lipunan, habang walang pangingimi ang pagyakap ni Cabral sa papel ng dalagang musmos ang pag-iisip na si Celia.

Malalim ang pag-unawa ni Alessandra de Rossi kay Belyn, na mag-isang itinataguyod ang pamilya sa Bambanti (Zig Dulay, 2015). Ipinakita ni de Rossi ang laging alanganing kinalalagyan ng batang biyudang ina na umaasa at nakikisama sa mga kapamilya. Ang batang aktor na si Micko Laurente ang gumanap bilang anak ni Belyn na pinag-akusahang nagnakaw ng kanyang tiyahin.

Hindi lang isa na namang magandang mukha sa entertainment industry si Julia Montes, bagay na pinatutunayan ng kanyang pagganap bilang si Mia sa Halik sa Hangin (Emmanuel Palo, 2015). Maraming pinagdadaanan si Mia—pagkaulila sa ama, pakikisama sa bagong pamilya ng ina, unang pag-ibig—na siyang nagbigay naman ng pagkakataon kay Montes na maipakita ang lawak ng kanyang pag-unawa sa pag-arte.

Unang pagbida ni Ronwaldo Martin sa pelikula ang kanyang pagganap bilang Jaypee sa Ari: My Life with a King (Carlo Catu, 2015). Malaki ang naging papel ni Martin—na kanya rin namang nagampanan ng buong may kasanayan at matimping pagdamdam—bilang high school student na bumuo ng makabuluhang pakikipagkaibigan sa matandang makatang nakilala sa isang school event.

Epektibo naman ang ensemble cast ng Salvage (Sherad Anthony Sanchez, 2015) na sila Jessy Mendiola, JC de Vera, Joel Saracho, Barbie Capacio, at Karl Medina. Bilang TV production crew na sinisindak ng mga hindi maipaliwanag na mga kaganapan sa isang liblib na baryo, malaki ang ambag ng kanilang pagganap sa pagtimpla ng engkwentro ng mga manonood sa partikular na teknika ng pelikulang found footage.

Magkakasama namang itinaguyod ng ensemble cast ng Mga Rebeldeng May Kaso (Raymond Red, 2015) na sila Felix Roco, Epy Quizon, Nicco Manalo, Earl Ignacio, at Angela Cortez, ang kwento ng matapang at naging makasaysayan ng pagpupursigi ng mga short filmmakers para ipagpatuloy at ipagdiwang ang kanilang sining noong 1980s.

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Ngunit natatangi sa lahat ng pagganap na mga ito ang kay Lou Veloso bilang Sergio sa Da Dog Show (Ralston Jover, 2015). Mistulang maliit lamang ang kahingian ng papel kay Veloso: sinusundan ng pelikula ang araw-araw na pagsisikap ni Sergio para tustusan ang pangangailangan ng kanyang pamilya sa pamamagitan ng mga dog show sa iilang pampublikong espasyo sa Maynila. Sa bandang dulo ng pelikula ipinapamalas ni Veloso ang punto ng lahat: ilang sandali lamang mababanaag ang maliit na ngiti ni Sergio sa pagitan ng kanyang dalawang anak lulan ng bus pa-Maynila, ngunit marapat at epektibo itong dramatic moment na nagtatapos sa buhay na pinaghaluang pait at tamis ng matanda.

Pagbati kay G. Veloso sa kanyang tagumpay.

 
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Posted by on 21/09/2016 in Uncategorized