Marco Sumayao

In the Rough There are those who would say Brillante Mendoza has a heart of stone. The director’s work is unflinching and unforgiving. There is no hand-holding, no sweeping soundtrack to turn his characters’ pain into a beautiful tragedy. There is no blinking. A grieving old woman lights a candle underneath the bridge where her grandson was murdered for, of all things his cellphone. Two people engage in hurried, loveless fellatio amidst the rattling noises of a run-down porn theater. A newlywed student watches in horror as his employers carve a woman into several pieces in front of him. And for all these hardened images, Mendoza gives no apologies. “Akala natin dati, ‘Okay, biglang magbabago buhay natin drastically,’” he says, speaking of how the coddling of mainstream films affect us. “When you watch mga commercial movies or when you watch mga melodrama, you think somebody will come tomorrow or tonight and that will totally change your life, and you become this kind of person. It’s not happening. It will never happen.” “Hindi ganito ang nangyayari. Kailangang harapin mo ang problema mo. Kailangang harapin mo ang katotohanan. Kung painful siya, eh di painful siya. Kung pangit siya, eh di pangit siya. Hindi ako magbibigay ng false hope.” This, to him, isn’t pessimism, but honesty – a quality he strives for in each work. “Ayoko ng pretensions. Just pure, plain honesty. Regardless of how other people would see it – ‘It’s too dark to show,’ ‘Masyado siyang graphic’ – unfortunately for them, for some, that’s how I see it. That’s how life is. For me, as a director, it’s my job to share what I see, what’s real. Hindi kami dapat nag-aadjust sa audience.” At a time when local film festivals hand out awards based largely on box office take, it’s comforting to see a Filipino filmmaker as dedicated to the purity of his craft as Mendoza is, regardless of how unsettling his work can be. His movies, while critical darlings, often leave the average Filipino viewer bemoaning the heaviness of the material. There are long, excruciating takes of fear, wanting, despair and anger, with little reprieve for the characters. Films like Serbis, Kinatay, and Masahista have been criticized as by some writers for their unforgiving look at the torturous aspects of life in the Third World. For Mendoza, however, it’s validation for the sincerity of his work. “They say I am into poverty porn. Am I representing poverty? No. I am representing 80% of the Filipinos, who happen to be poor. That’s the reality. When you look at the mirror too long, hindi na maganda ang nakikita mo eh. Sometimes, you don’t wanna look at the mirror because it’s too painful to see. ” And yet, for all the pain his leads endure, for all the unbending agony they’re put through, there remains, for the director, a simple, resounding purpose to watching their stories unfold. “We become more human. Sa mga commercial films, may pagka-escapist ang entertainment nila. A story doesn’t end because, say for instance, nagkaroon ka ng girlfriend o ng boyfriend. Hindi naman matatapos dun, di ba? May mga mangyayari pa. Nawawala tayo sa realidad. Yung gusto ko, yung films ko, parang binabalik tayo sa katotohanan. I want to involve the audience emotionally.” He elaborates using Taklub, his latest film, as an example: “When you’re asked to do a disaster movie, easily kapag mainstream yan, ipapakita mo yung nangyari. Parang you are interested with the bigness, with how it happens, and then people tend to look at the special effects. That’s not my idea of storytelling. If I make a film like Taklub – it’s supposedly the worst disastrous typhoon that’s ever been recorded – I’d rather talk about people who were affected by it. How they pick up the pieces. It becomes realistic. It becomes more personal.” For all the lack of sentimentality in his approach, there is also a strange sense of hope that permeates throughout Taklub and the rest of his work despite the absence of true resolutions – that personal redemption lies in the fact that life moves on. “Maraming disasters sa buhay natin. I think there is a unique quality in us Filipinos in how we pick up the pieces and how we move on, compared to other nationalities. Siguro dahil sanay na tayo sa mga disaster, but at the same time, because of our connection as a family. Iba kasi yung Pinoy. There’s a unique quality in us we can all be proud of. With us, you move on with your life, despite walang tulong ng national government, despite the corruption. You just have to rely on yourself. On your dignity. Life goes on, eh. Life goes on.” Life is also, according to the director, amoral, which is why his work often comes off as distant as it is emotional, as detached as it is involved. By necessity, on film at least, his heart must be made of stone – blunt and muddy and cold – regardless of the passion he has for life. The hardest stone, however, with its myriad facets and unmatched clarity, still shines the brightest, and so Brillante Mendoza is aptly named.