A drastic change has occurred. Screenwriter Ricky Lee was requested by the Famas to restore the prestige it lost to several decades’ worth of taint. Meaning the selection of nominees and winners must be meaningful.
Welcome to the end of the world!” wrote filmmaker Khavn dela Cruz on his Facebook wall. Forty-four-year-old Dela Cruz, who from 1994 up to the present has made more than 40 feature-length films and more than 100 shorts, has just done the impossible, and his irony-laden status post is more an expression of utter surprise than a real prophetic vision of the world’s destruction. The director, who prefers to be called “Khavn” — sometimes playfully pronounced like the famous international film festival in France — is more likely to be ruffling the feathers of his audience with his brand of chaotic and extremely low-budget cinema he fondly describes as wazak than winning an award called Famas.
He, however, did just bag not one but multiple Famas awards for his film Balangiga: The Howling Wilderness. The seeming improbability of Dela Cruz winning a Famas award does not hinge on the merits of his films because his films, despite their obvious rough edges, are all fun but hefty treatises on the ironies that exist in Philippine society. The improbability hinges on the Famas itself. The award has simply lost the glory it once stood for, with only the trophy, which was designed after the likeness of indelible actress Rosa Rosal, as a reminder of a history that must be treasured.
In 1994, when Dela Cruz first started making films, Famas deemed Augusto Salvador’s Masahol Pa Sa Hayop as the best film of the year. The following year, it was Carlo J. Caparas’ Lipa ‘Arandia’ Massacre: Lord, Deliver Us From Evil. Last year, the winner was Olivia Lamasan’s Barcelona: A Love Untold. The year before that, it was Joel Lamangan’s Felix Manalo. Lav Diaz, this year’s recipient of a Lifetime Achievement Trophy, has never been nominated, despite his having won prestigious prizes in Locarno, Berlin and Venice. Cannes Best Director winner Brillante Mendoza has only been nominated twice but has never won. Cannes Best Actress winner Jaclyn Jose, who served as part of the jury this year, jokingly recalled that she only won the Famas once, and it was for Best Supporting Actress for the film A Secret Affair, a titillating mistress drama directed by Nuel Naval. Strangely, her Cannes-approved performance in Ma’ Rosa was glossed over for a nomination by Famas, deeming the performances of the leads in Barcelona: A Love Untold, Maryo J. delos Reyes’ The Unmarried Wife, Joyce Bernal’s Everything About Her and Rahyan Carlos’ Ringgo: The Dog Shooter as decidedly more noteworthy.
Clearly, within just a year, a drastic change has occurred.
At the center of that change was a vision by screenwriter Ricky Lee, who was requested by the Famas to help restore the prestige it lost to several decades’ worth of taint, to simply make the awards more inclusive. This means that the awards body must also start recognizing documentaries and short films. It also means that the jury that will be selecting both the nominations and the winners should encompass various disciplines within the context of filmmaking. That there must be no distinctions and no lines between genres. The selection of the nominees and the winners must be meaningful, and the perceived meanings of the subjective acclaim must be voiced through carefully written citations. The nominations and the awards must be more than just seconds of airtime or a gold-plated trophy. They must be heartfelt messages that truly reveal not just an appreciation but also respect for a job well done.
So this year, the roster of Famas winners includes not just Dela Cruz, the punk filmmaker who professes to make films even if he only has a couple hundred pesos to his name, but also Arbi Barbarona, a Mindanaoan director who in Tu Pug Imatuy (The Right to Kill) revealed the extent of the repressed emotions of a people marginalized by centuries of oppression; Treb Monteras II, a filmmaker who in his debut feature Respeto turned to rap and poetry to indict a culture of abuse; Odette Khan, an actress who for years diligently worked for her craft and earned the respect of her peers; and the directing duo composed of Victor Tagaro and Toshihiko Uryu, whose Yield, about children working in a quarry, broke traditions of documentaries not commingling with fiction films.
If this is truly the end of the world as Dela Cruz has proclaimed in social media, then it might be quite a happy ending.