Two of what I consider the most politically significant films made last year participated in a regional film concourse, called Asean International Film Festival and Awards (AIFFA). These films are Bor Ocampo’s Dayang Asu and Lawrence Fajardo’s Imbisibol. And the two films came home with two wins: Best Supporting Actor for Ricky Davao and Best Editing for Lawrence Fajardo. The film contingent, in fact, came home with a total of six awards to include: Louie Ignacio, Best Director for Area; Ai-Ai de las Alas, Best Actress for Area; and Anna Capri Best Supporting Actress for Laut.
What do Asean filmmakers tell as stories? What do they tell each other? Or do we ever, in this region call Asean, converse with each other through films and the arts?
If we gauge the dialogue we enter into by way of Dayang Asu and Imbisibol , we do have important stories to tell our Asean neighbors.
Both Dayang Asu and Imbisibol figured strongly in the deliberation of our group, the Manunuri ng Pelikulang Pilipino. Both films were up there in the consideration for certain categories of Gawad Urian for 2016.
Dayang Asu, which bears an English title Dognation, has the burden of proving that corruption in a small town is really a systemic extension of how vile a nation has become. Be that as it may (and critics have already attacked this overbearing generalization of the film), the film has, indeed, a scary premise. In Dayang Asu, a town becomes a microcosm of how vile our country has become.
At the core of Dayang Asu’s narrative is this father, so ordinary, so genial, his kindness to his children doesn’t surprise us at all. And yet, the same person is behind many crimes. He is an individual who can do the most evil in that part of the area and this, to our surprise, doesn’t surprise us either. Ricky Davao doesn’t sentimentalize the role. He doesn’t judge it either. The duplicity of events is expressed greatly through the use of canine, a dog that is both potential companion and dog. Bor Ocampo is a newcomer but he has done already this one compelling film.
I’m partial to Imbisibol, having stayed in Japan for a considerable period of time studying Filipino migration to the country. The film is a touching documentation of the Filipino worker in that country—they serve a powerful economy but their contribution to nation-building is not counted. The Filipinos are part of what economists call “shadow labor”. Fajardo captures this phenomenon both in form and content.
Imbisibol was one of the entries to the first Sinag Maynila Film competition, where I sat as member of the jury. I remember during our deliberation when one of the jurors asked why I was nominating the film for Production Design when, in fact, the film just made use of “found sets” and “found location”. More or less, this was what I said: Given the limited time and space available to the production, they made do with the houses selected for the film What came out at the end was this story that seemed to travel through rabbit holes connected by secrets and survival. In these holes, lived Filipinos who were able to send letters and money back home by some odd means. Interestingly, even as the action was in Japan, the film never entered any spaces with Japanese, with the exception of the migration officer who tried to accost one of the Filipinas. If ever the Filipinos were seen during those times, it was when they committed crimes or were part of some misdemeanor.
Ces Quesada was a presence in Imbisibol as a Filipina who was visible and, therefore, could link many other Filipinos, good or bad, to each other. Bernardo Bernardo represented the Filipino, active and zealous, but still remaining in the periphery. He received the Gawad Urian for Best Supporting Actor.
Lawrence leads a new generation of filmmakers whose filmic gazes are unflinching as they are new and honest. I include in this group Lem Lorca.
We are, indeed, a land of performers. Look at the sweep of awards. It is a sweep, indeed, except for the Best Actor, which went to the lead of the Vietnamese film Station Way, which also took two other awards, Best Photography and Best Film.
What should be of interest now is for the other films to be shown in the Philippines, as well. This is the kind of regional dialogue needed for the AIFFA to serve its purpose. Right now, the film event does not have the prestige of other film festivals, but it has one thing that the other film gatherings do not have—and that is the sanction of a very official and stable institution, the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (Asean).
For the conversations of cinemas to continue in our country, at least, I can think of the Film Development Council of the Philippines (FDCP) under the helm of Liza Diño. The FDCP has been going around the country “planting seeds”, a program where it brings film educators, filmmakers and film-festival organizers to talk about the importance of cinema to a nation. An Asean Cinema Conversation could be within the expertise and dreams of the FDCP, Liza and Will Fredo (if I may be personal about it). Why not, why not, indeed.
My question, after all this, remains: Are we a nation of film narrators?
In AIFFA, apparently, a special award called the Asean Spirit Award is one of the plum prizes. The award, according to press releases, is given to the film that “best portrays the best of Asean people, culture and lifestyle”. The Indonesian film Kanang Anak Langkaw, the story about a national hero and a soldier, received the award.
Would our gritty and dark stories ever represent the best in Asean people?