People who know me, know it - I have no allegiance to local movies. None. It would take A LOT of convincing for me to shell out P90 to sit through a Tagalog movie. Watching a locally-made film is like going into coma for 1.5 (if you're lucky) to two hours. This Philippine "cinematic experience", otherwise known as mental inactivity, simply leaves you feeling perplexed. There were times I was tempted to laugh hysterically at the sloppy dialogue, at the risk of being lynched by Juday's fans right inside the theater. The lack of creativity in the titles, for one, never ceases to amaze me. Think "Kapag Tumibok ang Puso (Not Once But Twice)."
The last time I was subjected to this kind of torture I was sitting in the moviehouse trying to play deaf to screaming fans of Bea Alonzo and John Lloyd Cruz. It was one of those movies where, five minutes into watching it, you would have already figured out the ending. I wanted a refund - plus interest - for time wasted. Thank God for cell phones - they kept my sanity intact.
Last week we played at home a pirated copy (this will be the subject of another post and possible reprimand from The One) of a Tagalog movie, supposedly a comedy. In the movie, veteran actress Cherry Pie Picache plays mother to three gay sons. My mother, who seems to patronize Filipino films, initially thought it was funny but eventually agreed it was junk.
Is this the kind of film the public really wants? A film addict I knew back in college couldn't have said it better - respected filmmakers of decades past must be tossing and turning in their graves now.
I am waiting for the time when I could again watch movies in the caliber of the 1977 classic "Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos" or Eddie Romero's "Ganito Kami Noon, Paano Kayo Ngayon", or the "Oro, Plata, Mata" masterpiece of Peque Gallaga. I guess good directors and screen writers are a dying breed in this country.