Reviews

Ekstra (Jeffrey Jeturian, 2013)

EKSTRA

Role of a lifetime

In one scene in Jeffrey Jeturian’s Ekstra (The Bit Player), Loida Malabanan (Vilma Santos) cites Nora Aunor’s rise to superstardom despite her lack of the usual “artista” look, as if it is the only silver lining for those who want to make it big in show business and headline as lead in their own movies. Given the long-running fan-based rivalry between two of the biggest actresses of Philippine cinema, it is that kind of an inside joke which permeates throughout the entire film – a meta-cinematic reference that pokes fun at our entertainment industry, where bit players like Loida struggle to make a career out of. It is an industry where not all hard-working, eager and talented wannabes have Nora Aunor’s stroke of luck.

The Cinemalaya entry is directed by Jeffrey Jeturian. Known for the acclaimed Tuhog (not the recent Star Cinema film), a film which is also a commentary on media exploitation, he returns to his film-within-a-film structure, this time telling the story of television bit players including the production crew behind it. Although still playing as the lead, Santos’ character is relegated to the cast of talents that usually fill the backdrop, the gossipy “crowd”, the ones who witness the public declarations of love by lead stars, i.e. the usual pair of matinee idol and a beautiful leading lady. The lead stars inside the film’s telenovela are played by Piolo Pascual and Marian Rivera, who make up  a host of popular actors in Philippine TV and movies, playing themselves, cast as “extras”.

Although it has been depicted in a number of Filipino independent films in recent years, the film-within-a-film narrative device would come as a novelty in Pinoy pop culture. Perhaps it also speaks of a movie-going public who is used to linear stories with predictable endings and devoid of social commentary. Ekstra also recalls to mind another Cinemalaya entry, Jay, which stars Baron Geisler and Coco Martin. The film, directed by the late Francis Xavier Pasion (whose recent death sparked discussions on the backbreaking conditions in popular TV production) looks at an enterprising media through a crime-reality show. Instead of presenting the social reality of the victims and the crime, the media here becomes the perpetrator itself of injustice and further victimization of its subjects. There is also a kind of victimization in Ekstra – that of the bit player. With measly pay and no work benefits, the extra is also at the receiving end of hurtful tirades from the production staff who themselves are also caught up in their own systemic trappings.

In the film, Loida has made a career out of playing bit roles. The film does not suggest any other forms of income so it seems that she single-handedly supports her daughter’s education through these “bookings”. Surrounded by other professional bit players, she tells a young beautiful hopeful to be proud of being an extra – “tingnan mo ako ngayon, ekstra pa rin! (look at me now, still an extra!)) – while making empty musings – “balang draw sisikat din tayo! ” (someday we’ll get our big roles!) – underlining the sad reality of one-in-a-million chances, predicated by years of constant hoping and despair, and peppered with encounters of big-named actors which only dwarfs their already minor existence.

The film gives us a glimpse of what happens behind the scenes – from casting, scene preparation and actual takes. As we go through the production process, the film juxtaposes scenes and sequences that seemingly blur the line between what is fiction and real inside the film. It jumps from scenes projected in monitors as seen by the directors and crew to the actual scenes captured by camera. The film pokes criticism towards the commercialism of TV by highlighting the ridiculousness of the telenovela inside the film (with atrocious lines as “I wasn’t born yesterday, I was born beautiful, and you, you were just born”, and self-conscious, tacky acting).

Sometimes, it is hard to forget that it is Vilma Santos. Her efforts to slide into anonymity not always effortless, although the scenes where she interacts with her co-extras during downtime shows her at her best. It also helps that her co-stars and co-extras made it decently believable. Her scenes with Tart Carlos (Doris of Please Be Careful With My Heart) are always a delight. Marlon Rivera (director of Ang Babae sa Septic Tank) as the telenovela director, Vincent de Jesus as the assistant director and Ruby Ruiz as the talent coordinator, all turn in noteworthy performances as people who are also trapped in a system that favors the lure of the commercial “kilig”, people who succumb to the push and pull of the ratings game.

This fiction-reality tug-of-war and the power play that make up the story of Loida and other bit players, as well as the production staff inside the film, can be any foreign story or situated in any film production setting. But pitted against the harsh realities of the Pinoy entertainment industry they revolve in that aspires to Western ideals of popularity and fame, the bit players in Ekstra are within and among us, in the low rungs of the ladder towards fame, success and dreams that can come true or are shattered in an instant.

Sadly, Ekstra also falls prey into the very system which it challenges. A system that has molded the preference for the easy and recognizable ending – an ending that should always makes sense or one that settles comfortably to resolve the protagonist’s dilemma. It is the same system that gives us an opportunity to watch an independent film like Ekstra but limits the showing of the restored version of Lino Brocka’s Maynila Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag. It is also the same system that did not give us a chance to see Six Degrees of Separation from Lilia Cuntapay (what others say is the original and better film about bit players starring a real extra) simply because it does not have a bankable star headlining it.

Published in the August 2013 edition of Edge Davao

Note: Updated August 20, 2016. Ekstra is part of the Kadayawan screenings at Cinematheque Davao this week.

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Pacific Rim (Guillermo Del Toro, 2013)

pacific rim

Moves like Jaeger

It would be interesting to discuss why Pacific Rim, Guillermo Del Toro’s massive robots versus giant monsters battlefest, tanked at the US box office. Opening only in the third spot, it trails behind two sequels, Despicable Me 2 and Grown Ups 2. But it would just be stating the obvious—that the consumerist culture have deduced Hollywood moviemaking into a gigantic machinery churning out piles and piles of recycled products, with the audiences retreating into movie-star familiarity and rehashed superhero escapades. Although Del Toro’s film doesn’t offer anything groundbreaking,  its existence is a breath of fresh air against the current crop of reboots.

This generation’s movie-going experience has spawned the term reboot, a sign that Hollywood in particular, is severely lacking in original ways of storytelling (I wouldn’t even dare say original ideas because I believe it has already been exhausted). Thus, the Spiderman and X-Men franchises, to name a few, have been recently incarnated even though our memories of them are still relatively fresh (or is it that the information age has also spawned short-term memories?). While some of these reboots have their individual merits (I’m thinking JJ Abram’s take on Star Trek, and to some extent the Daniel Craig-starred Bond films), it has created this huge gap for something that’s close to innovative and even game-changing.

If one thinks about it, Pacific Rim can be viewed as a reboot. But we are talking reboot of a genre, not a Hollywood franchise. To any kid who has ever grown up watching Japanese monster movies and TV shows, Pacific Rim’s gargantuan creatures would look like a re-invention of those, or in Japanese pop culture, kaijus, or “giant beasts”. On one hand, the Jaegers, which means hunter, also borrows from another Japanese concept, the mechas, or giant robots. (My immediate recollection of kaijus would be Godzilla, a 90s version of which I saw in one of the now-extinct cineplexes around the city, and in some of the film’s elements, the man-robot incarnations of Ultraman and the like.) However, Pacific Rim’s creatures are not exact replicas of the giant monsters and robots of our Sunday mornings. As he did in Hellboy and the acclaimed Pan’s Labyrinth, Del Toro’s creatures here are a thing to marvel, exuding a mythical presence despite its scale.

The movie’s premise is that kaijus have pre-historically thrived under the earth’s surface and has long been planning to inhabit the earth, which means apocalypse for us humans. Because engaging in warfare to annihilate the kaijus has depleted the nations’ resources, the Jaeger program has been created, which is manned by one Stacker Pentecost (agent-of-cool Idris Elba). The Jaegers, humanoid robots operated by two (or three in the case of China’s Crimson Typhoon) pilots whose minds have been melded to make control of the robots possible, are a match for the kaijus’ size and strength. Each pilot controls a brain hemisphere in order to share the “neural load” found to be deadly for a single pilot interfacing with the massive machines. The shared end-of-the-world dilemma prompted the creation of Jaeger versions (Australia’s Eureka Stryker or Russia’s Cherno Alpha) and is operated by a multi-racial crew.

Pacific Rim consistently utilizes this idea of the union, humanizing it through the pilots’ psychic melding; going through a “drift”, sharing the burden of memories and emotions, which gives the story its emotional pull. This is why despite the generic nature of their characters, troubled pasts and all, having to lose someone they love, Raleigh Beckett (Charlie Hunnam) and Mako Mori (Rinko Kikuchi) triumph in their unified state. That a strong, genuine human bond is somehow required to operate the Jaegers elevates the concept of man-machine amalgamation into something more than just a spectacle of science-fiction fantasy.

Del Toro achieves this spectacle of size in a visual design that’s inventive without being too flashy and straightforward without being too simplistic. The robots are not made up of squeaky-clean armor but with pure, good ‘ole sword-and-rocket-power mechanical muscle. The battle scenes are staged underwater (a logical choice) and in a rainy Hongkong night brightly colored by neon lights. The Jaeger picking up freight containers and an entire ship to bludgeon the kaiju shows us just how colossal these creatures are (as if the shot of a damaged Gipsy Danger in the Alaskan snow wasn’t enough visualization), and yes seeing them on the big screen gives the audience the sense of diminution. The Hongkong battle is punctuated by two entertainingly oddball shots – the flying bird and the bouncing Newton’s cradle – again emphasizing the element of size.

And when you go through the science babble of the program’s pioneer researchers, Gottlieb and Newton, the improbable logic of the “breach” and its destruction is actually quite fascinating. Writer Travis Beacham and Del Toro left just enough for science geeks to nitpick on. Despite some comparing it to Michael Bay’s insipid Transformers, none of that rambunctious robot-to-vehicle transformation comes close to Del Toro’s vision, quite brave in a market and culture obsessed with the familiar and commonplace. Just like the dependable analog Gipsy Danger, we are reminded that the simplicity and reliability of the old-fashioned, can trump any attention-begging display of ultramodern bombast.

Also published in this weekend’s edition of Edge Davao newspaper

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