Behind the Scenes: Ateneans invade Cinemalaya
by Maxine R. Ang on August 2, 2009
In each person there is a storyteller, and in the most unlikely places, stories to be found and told.
In the 2009 Cinemalaya Independent Film Festival, 20 Ateneans showcased their skills as weavers of stories, drawing from bits of their lives and scenes from their dreams. Six directors, all members of the Loyola Film Circle, which helped program and organize the event, share their inspirations for their shorts, which were shown in the Cultural Center of the Philippines last July 25.
What a day for a daydream
Clean, quiet, and simple, Kawawa, Jan Parma’s one-minute film, has the undertones of a daydream cut short. “Actually, I just dreamt about it,” says Jan.
The short features a homeless guy on the streets with a tin can beside him. Tricycles and pedestrians rush by the screen in blurs as the man sleeps on, dead to the world. Two people stop by to drop some coins and walk on. A third person hesitates before the beggar. He checks first to see if he’s really asleep, and seeing that he is, snatches the can and runs away.
“So [the title] is a play on words between poor guy as in mahirap na tao, tsaka kawawa as in kawawa (poor and taken advantage of),” says Jan. It is this dual quality which he highlighted in order to bring home his message. As an observer of the situation, he shows how, in some ways, Filipinos themselves are being robbed blind.
“That’s what happens in our whole society, we’re ignorant, na ninanakawan tayo (we’re being robbed), even though they say they’re helping us. Some companies do help us, but other people are like ‘Okay, since di ka naman nakatingin’ (Okay, since you aren’t looking…),” says Jan with a shrug of his shoulders.
As a filmmaker, Jan says he often makes his films based on whatever strikes his fancy. More often than not, his films help him remember the things he thinks of—or what he dreams.
Movie massacre
Francis Tan (BS Mgt ‘09) draws a quick smile when asked about his film. His short, entitled Transit, doesn’t offer explanations, but seeks for one.
He gets the title of his short from transitions, the effects afforded by Windows Movie Maker for the entrance and exit of slides. Transit is a commentary of sorts on the state of filmmaking today with of the use of popular movie-editing tools, most especially MovieMaker. Francis says that with this program, amateur filmmakers have found it ridiculously easy to edit films, and just as easily destroy them.
Francis’ experimental film shows an old camera being subject to all sorts of torture and rough handling. It is chopped up with a butcher’s knife, soaked in a bowl of liquid, and left out in the rain, to name a few. There is an almost painful quality to the short, an unsettling feeling as one watches it. Underneath it all, there is a feeling of frustration.
The deliberate mishandling of the camera mirrors how Francis sees some filmmakers torture the art of filmmaking itself.
“Binababoy lang talaga nila yung paggawa, parang wala lang. So tapos gumagamit sila ng iba-ibang effects (They just make a mess out of editing the films, as though they’re just nothing. Then they use different effects),” he says.
But more than just to critique, Francis made his film out of a desire for something a little different. He says, “I guess because we’re Ateneans, hopefully, we stray away from those clichés of love. We want to tell new stories.”
Love, sex, and oranges
There is something voyeuristic about watching the short by Karen Ramos and Gracia Vergara. How Not to Disappoint is about a couple whose strained dialogue leaves viewers waiting for the next line.
Karen found the inspiration for the film from a fictional short story written by her friend Ashley Aquino. For her and the other members of their small production house, it was just something to do to pass the time.
Narrated entirely by a faceless third person, the film offers a peek into the husband and wife’s slowly deteriorating marriage. The scenes are ordinary: a dining room, a bathroom sink, a glazed shower door with its slow rivulets of water. In some scenes, the narration pauses and the silence stretches taut.
In the film, the husband is an ambiguous character who drifts in and out of each scene and, as the narrator states, ‘never uses a plate when he eats his oranges and the peels are everywhere’. The wife then picks up the orange peels and attempts to make potpourri.
Karen found that the wife’s actions speak more of her obvious struggles to salvage their marriage, and this is what drew her to make the film in the first place. She says, “It’s like, [the peels] are already trash, and you’re going to make something beautiful out of it.”
In the end, even though the film wasn’t meant to be shown to such a huge audience, Karen found she grew up as a filmmaker. From being so insecure about showing her pieces to anyone, she says ”[Now], I love it when people tell me what they think. I think that’s why we make movies, to share them with people.”
Sleep to dream
A Dream in 2 Minutes by Mark Peregrino (AB Comm ‘09) seems as though it was filmed with the mind’s eye of someone either falling asleep or waking from a dream. The short is a slow movement of time captured and projected onscreen.
Most people watch films to forget themselves for a while, and Mark’s film gives them that. “It’s more of like visual poetry,” Mark says. It is an artistic short, more of a feast for the eyes than food for thought. Girls with long hair are shot, out of focus and blurry, edged with light and covered in darkness.
Set against a tinkling, slightly sinister instrumental music, random images flash across the scene. With an awkward grace, the figures in the movie move as though underwater.
Mark says, “The idea is more of like moving paintings. The experiment was at the end of it, you’ll feel as if you just woke up from a dream. I mean you know how when you wake up and you try to recall all those images you saw and you want to make sense out of everything.”
Mario’s world
Sabado ni Mario opens with a kid leaving the house in his pajamas. He appears to be on an aimless journey, picking his way through overgrown weeds in an empty lot. In the distance are the sounds of dogs and birds, but for the entire movie, he is alone. There is no dialogue, no beginning and no ending. It is just a short about a young boy who, in the span of a minute, is in a world of his own.
The main character was director Gio Puyat’s brother, Mario. Gio says, “[He] can’t act. He thinks he can act, but he can’t. He’s like a kid, he’s like 10 years old.”
But Mario, who throughout the film seems lost in his own daydreams, is a diverse canvas of emotions. He is sad, lonely, wistful, bored, curious, agitated, or even all of the above, depending on the viewer. The beauty of Gio’s film lies in how the audience can easily relate to this boy, putting themselves in his shoes, recalling similar golden afternoons in their childhoods.
Gio says, “Whatever feelings you get out of the film, it’s yours. It’s not anything I want draw from you. You draw it for yourself.”
Juan for all
What does it really mean to be in the here and now? Mik Red says, “[It] simply means the present condition and reality of our world.”
As social commentary, Juan Henerasyon is a reflection of modern society. It features a humble farmer who wanders around the city with Php 122.05 in his pocket. It is when he is finally down to his last coin that his eyes are finally open to the reality of the world around him.
More than just using film to convey his own personal views and opinions, Mik found it as a way to explore, rather than force his own thoughts. “I became more driven to explore certain issues through cinema and use it as a tool for social discourse,” Mik says.
With a minimal crew comprising of just Mik, the actor, driver, and someone to hold the microphone, difficulties while filming were not easy to avoid. Aside from getting special permits for the LRT scenes, Mik had to deal with the intimidation of shooting in crowded areas. “[This, and that] a lot of people kept looking into the camera, made editing more tedious,” says Mik.
According to Mik, he even lost a shoe on the job. “I was trekking through deep mud to get a good shot of the rice fields. My entire leg got stuck, so I had to give up the shoe,” he says.
This just goes to show just how far directors are willing to go for their art, even if it does mean going barefoot all the way.
