We’re not sure we’re at liberty to announce the top 10, because that’s the job of the secretariat, but certainly in the exercise of freedom of speech we can give our 25 centavos worth on the general run of entries (23 in all!) in the short feature category, which we as a member of the distinguished and somewhat ngarag screening panel had the privilege and honor to view one Saturday at the CCP, stretching from mid-morning to well into the evening, why we felt just like we had watched a Lav Diaz movie. But not as good, and definitely more varied and uneven.
Last year we recall having been able to catch three of the six in competition, all sizzling appetizers to the main feature that was the full length film: Blood Bank, Kultado, and Babae. Two of them in black and white, a hard to find commodity these days of expert color separation. One set in a slaughterhouse in the south, filled with ominous blades and shadows running rampant like wash across the screen. One in which we mistook a German actress for a local cinematographer we thought had shifted places to stay in front rather than behind the camera.
We hope there will be no such boo-boo here in this attendant run and gun analysis, though we doubt we’re qualified to rightfully compare the entries of this year to half of the finalists last year: 23 to 3? No contest!
As one of our co-screening panel members, the eminent but low key director Butch Perez noted, less than halfway through the long day’s journey into night screening there seemed to be a "pandemic" of shorts dealing with gay issues, in the wake of the astounding success (both critically and at the tills, though squeamish Oscar voters preferred Crash) of Brokeback Mountain, indeed such that our brothers and sisters of the third and fourth sex, seemed at last to have broken free and not only come out of the closet but also – as fellow panel member CCP head Emily Abrera put it to stretch the analogy further – bolted the barn doors.
Another aspect worthy of mention was that the present movie-making batch has a strong visual facility when it comes to titles. Several of the films started out promisingly enough, with eye-catching visuals and imaginatively named production houses, not to mention innumerable frames of people lying down, but as the DVD started spinning the initial goodwill simply dissipated. These kids have a natural fine arts sense, a bit short on narrative if at all there is a tangible script – the common bane of many a young filmmaker.
The generally humorless mien of a majority of the entries was duly noted, effectively giving instant bonus points to those that exhibited a certain degree of levity: the Lou Veloso-starrer Gee-gee at Waterina, the homage to FPJ Parang Pelikula, the tragicomic post-feminist film Labada.
Black humor and shades of cannibalism were present in No Passport Needed, the shortest of the lot but never lacking in the power of suggestion. We surmise that this would also fit in well with last year’s batch of short and sweet shorts.
Too there were some familiar names such as Matutina, Pam Miras, Barros Sanchez – holdouts from last year to give us a new refreshing vision this time around. Puwang even virtually reprised ICU Bed #7, a 2005 full-length narrative, but here there is no Eddie Garcia. Still the cycle of life and death was undeniably brought to the fore.
Putot, reportedly from the producers of Bigtime, was a delight to the eyes, indeed the film was awash in impressive high-definition cinematography though the story itself tended to drag, and if it had been screened by itself or in the early going the impact would have been more profound notwithstanding the real time pacing.
The two black and white entries also made inroads – Orasyon which is the first time we see a lola attempting to hang herself due to the goadings of an impressive kalamay-eating devil; and Sa Silaw with its dog style rushes that earned the nod of the dogs, rather men in the panel.
Some barely made the cut, as three were at the borderline in order to make the last two slots of the playoffs. But the panel reached consensus and chose to bump off the trifle didactic, fist-waving one, for which we might never hear the end of it just like the current National Artist award debates and discourses.
All in all it was a Saturday well spent, and it was good to see Laurice Guillen again looking none the worse for wear in her new role as Cinemalaya head honcho, shepherding this new crop of filmmakers to learn the ropes and varied nuances of the trade, including the value of editing. They listen to the beat of a different but no less compelling drummer.