Mula Sa Kung Ano Ang Noon (Lav Diaz, World Premieres Film Festival 2014)

July 2014. On the same week that the film held its initial albeit limited theatrical run, birthday celebrant Imelda Marcos kissed the glass coffin of her late husband Ferdinand Marcos. Her birthday wish was for the former president to have a hero's burial. She also hinted of a possible run by senator Bongbong Marcos for the presidency in 2016.

Such weird, scary things, and oddball scenarios are not out of place in Lav Diaz's haunting recollection of his adolescence in Southern Philippines. The 338-minute film Mula Sa Kung Ano Ang Noon dealt with aswangs, ritualistic burning of dead bodies, demented saviors, and more.

The film begins with an elderly woman going down the boondocks to join a once-in-a-blue-moon healing session. The rapturous melody of the kulintang gongs accompany the spellbinding dance by the shaman, Bai Rahmah. I felt like standing up and joining the dance. This stunning segment is one of the most uplifting moments I've seen in a Lav Diaz film. However, the ritual is rarely performed nowadays. It is just one of the many Filipino things obscured and plutoed by the Marcos regime.

If there is one scene that aptly captures the film's message of the country entering a dark, tumultuous era, then it would be the nighttime burning of the huts. The static shot shows three huts all ablaze and with a text identifying the place as the Philippines and the year as 1971. There are no cries heard. The sweeping militarization razes through the three major islands of the country. Rampant hamletting, psychological warfare, and other military operations drive away the rural folks. Only ghost towns remain. The song Wala Nang Tao sa Sta. Filomena is playing on my head as I'm writing this.

The remote barrio in the film has an odd mix of Ilocano elders, Maguindanao rituals, deceiving Catholic priest, and roving Batangueña merchant. It is unnamed because it depicts the whole Philippines. It is a hodge-podge of Filipino people and things. Slowly, they disappear. In the end, the barrio is overtaken by paramilitary groups. Human rights abuses go on unimpeded. The tragic events in the barrio are replicated all over the country during the Martial Law years.

In Mula Sa Kung Ano Ang Noon (From What Is Before), Lav Diaz shares with the audience what he saw, felt, and experienced during the country's darkest period. Militarization sows fear in the hearts of the Filipinos. Forced evacuations and displacement of people lead to loss of lives and properties. The acclaimed filmmaker also highlights several beautiful rituals that have vanished through the years.

Now, will we allow the likes of the Marcoses to return to Malacañan Palace? Tabi tabi po. Tabi tabi po.

Ebolusyon Ng Isang Pamilyang Pilipino (Lav Diaz, 2004)

October 24, 2009.

Several malls observed United Nations' Day by holding events. Some of you may have celebrated their birthdays or anniversaries on that day. For a dozen or so moviegoers at Fully Booked's U-View, they spent half of that special day watching Lav Diaz's majestic story, Evolution of a Filipino Family.

It was a mini-celebration of United Nations' Day at U-View. Two award-winning Filipino filmmakers, a Filipino-Chinese film critic, a middle-aged Caucasian male, and a smattering of local cinephiles patiently sat through the 11-hour epic film.

11-hour film!?! Who would have thought of doing that?

Ebolusyon ng Isang Pamilyang Pilipino is epic storytelling at its best. Only a genius like Lav Diaz can consistently create films that are more than 5 hours in length, and win acclaim and awards in the process. This film is Diaz’s response to Lino Brocka’s dictum of creating films for fellow Filipinos. It is a film in which local moviegoers will identify themselves with the aspirations and travails of the Filipino family.

The story initially focuses on a rural family. Three female siblings take on farm jobs because their father was incarcerated for theft. As the film progresses, we get to know of two more families. There is the family of treasure hunters in Benguet. A father and his adopted sons try their luck looking for gold. The third family is a fictional and dysfunctional one. The radio-based family is made up of a lecherous stepfather, his wife, and his stepdaughter. Just as the family of treasure hunters keeps track of a favorite radio program, the audience also anticipates the continuing drama and adventures of the three sisters and the gold prospectors.

Lav Diaz utilized various tricks to keep the audience wide awake. He inserted scenes of voice talents doing work for a melodramatic radio program. The loud, booming voices and emotional faces keep the audience enthralled. There are also footage of grave political mistakes captured on video. Watching this film is probably your only chance to see unexpurgated video versions of the Ninoy Aquino assassination and the Mendiola massacre of farmers in 1987. These videos were stunningly powerful and rabble-rousing.

But, ultimately, the harrowing tales of the families are the ones that will keep the viewers glued to the screen until the end. There is a killing here and a massacre there. There are incarcerations. And, then, there are those family reunions. There will be a happy ending for one family and a sad ending for another family.

As the end credits roll on, the cinephiles lingered. When the lights came back, a spontaneous, overwhelming applause erupted in the small room. The audience obviously loved the film. Almost half of the attendees that night came back the next day to watch another Lav Diaz film, Agonistes. That is the effect of a Lav Diaz film. Once you've seen an epic film by Diaz, you'll be begging for more.

Evolution of a Filipino Family is a highly recommended film. It may have a problem with synchronized dialogues but it is a film worth celebrating and worth allotting 11 hours or so of your precious time. The storytelling is so intense and gripping, you will not notice the minutes quickly passing by.

The Cinemanila group must be commended for exhibiting three Lav Diaz films during the festival in October 2009. Now, the question on local cinephiles’ minds is ‘when is the much-awaited screening of Batang West Side?’

Original online posting in November 2009

Walang Alaala Ang Mga Paru-Paro (Lav Diaz, 2009)

Tasked to create a short film for an omnibus project of the Jeonju International Film Festival (JIFF), Lav Diaz came up with the 59-minute film, Butterflies Have No Memories. He is always pushing his films to the limit. A minute more and it would no longer have been considered a short film. However, the JIFF organizers trimmed it down to 40 minutes in order to make it fit in with two other short films. The longer version is available in the DVD box set released by JIFF.

In the extremely loaded film Butterflies Have No Memories, a bearded man named Ferdinand ‘Pedring’ Belleza is yearning for the return of mining in his town. He worked as chief security officer of a multinational mining company for decades. When it closed down, he lost a well-paying job, as well as his family.

The long-legged beauty Martha is a scion of the mining owners. The family closed the mining company after toxins heavily polluted the river. Their hasty departure turned the former prosperous place into a ghost town.

The return of fair-skinned Martha fuels irritations among local residents. She is likened to the so-called snow from Canada (mine tailings) that triggers skin rashes among the residents. Her former playmates, Carol and Willy, no longer have time to accommodate the young Canadian lady. They are so busy doing household chores or eking out a living. It is ironic that Martha, named after the Biblical character known for her hospitality, is treated badly during her visit.

There is a tinge of envy for the rich, single, and carefree visitor. Some people are more hostile. Pedring hatches a plan to kidnap Martha. His love for money reigns supreme over memories of good times with the family of Martha.

The short film alludes to the destructive effects of mining in Marinduque. Mine tailings caused the biological death of Boac River in 1996. The mining company left the place after decades of operations. Subsequent proposals to re-open the mining site are repelled by the Church and environmentalists.

The hellish effects of mining/treasure hunting were earlier tackled by Diaz in his majestic epic story Ebolusyon Ng Isang Pamilyang Pilipino. A female character from the film admonishes her husband to give up mining. 'It is hell,' said the sight-impaired woman. Indeed, the mining area became a burial ground for gold prospectors and treasure hunters. Diaz will return once more to the issue of treasure hunting in a film project titled Agonistes.

Butterflies Have No Memories contains elements one would expect from a Lav Diaz film. Shot in bleak monochrome, the abbreviated film includes a couple of long takes. The lush ambient sound is also here along with scenes featuring animals/insects. I always look forward to the last two elements, ambient sound and inclusion of animals. They play a big part in making Diaz’s films so natural and realistic.

What I didn’t expect is the peculiar, dream-like ending. It features three adult men donning Moriones masks. Their epiphanic encounter with a swarm of butterflies triggers a change of heart for one of them. The sublime last shot is that of a prostrated young man in the middle of the forest while a pair of Roman soldiers looks on.

Lav Diaz is truly a great filmmaker and storyteller, equally adept with short features and epic stories. Walang Alaala ang mga Paru-Paro is his best short film so far and one of his most symbol-laden films. It is a wonderful amalgam of mundane and insane images.

Original online posting in October 2009 

Norte, Hangganan ng Kasaysayan (Lav Diaz, Cinemanila 2013)

Ilocos Norte is the birthplace of President Ferdinand Marcos, the disgraced dictator whose legacy of corruption and abuses continue to affect the lives of Filipinos. The betrayal of two Ilocanos led to his ouster. Ilocos Norte is also home to the parents of Antonio Luna, a temperamental revolutionary general killed by forces of President Emilio Aguinaldo. The accumulated acts of corruption, abuses, and treachery by our national leaders have forever seared the Filipino identity. We have become a nation of betraying Judases.

Fabian Viduya (Sid Lucero) shares a few common traits with fellow Ilocanos, Marcos and Luna. He is a brilliant law student on par with a young, bar topnotcher Marcos. He is also a revolutionary with the brute rage of a Hulk. But he is more than a Hulk,  he is a Bressonian superman. He feels that being an intellectual superior binds him to no law. He acts rashly on his outrageous proposals. He guts out evil beings and destroys dysfunctional institutions.

Meanwhile, Eliza Atillano (Angeli Bayani) gets discombobulated with wordy laws. She agreed to her husband pleading guilty without understanding the consequences of such action. She sells vegetables and pawns her things in order to feed her two children and a sister.

The husband, Joaquin Atillano (Archie Alemania), is falsely accused of killing a much-hated money lender. His one bout of angry outburst was used as evidence of his deep hatred for Magda. He languishes in jail and yearns for a rare visit by Eliza. He dreams constantly of his family.

One dream of his eerily reminds me of  a major tragedy that befell our country within the last 12 months. The drone-cam shot of the village makes me recall the aerial shot of a devastated Tacloban after Typhoon Haiyan struck the city. The village is dreary and devoid of life. The dreams or nightmares are portent of tragic events that will befall the saintly Atillano family.

The bus tragedy scene prefigures the GV Florida bus crash that took the life of comedian Arvin Tado Jimenez. Days before his death, Tado allegedly posted on his Instagram a photo with the caption: 'North or South...Cemetery?' He died alright in the northern part of Luzon.

North Cemetery?

Ilocos Norte sure looks like a cemetery with Fabian on the loose. Directly or indirectly, he causes lots of deaths in this film. He is mad north-northwest. But, he can be compassionate at times. He hates families being torn apart because of absentee parents so he tries his best to help the hardworking Eliza. He dares his friends to take up the cause of an innocent Joaquin.

Norte, Hangganan ng Kasaysayan is a rare colored epic film by Lav Diaz. Eschewing intense chiaroscuro images, he partners with veteran cinematographer Larry Manda to come up with dazzling images of a serene, picturesque, sometimes hellish Ilocos Norte. Take a look at the picture above and you'll see that Diaz repeated the burning scenes from the Russian film Mirror and his own film Hesus, Rebolusyunaryo. The cliff scene recalls the Nora Aunor and baby scene from Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos. Staring down at the abyss, both mothers contemplate doing away with their children and betraying their own calling.

A huge chunk of the film's 10 million peso budget must have been allotted to procuring the cameras befitting the vision of Diaz. The images are so crisp and clear that sharp-eyed viewers may have noticed an errant prop during Wakwak's Christmas carolling scene. There is a February calendar hanging on the prison cell's steel bars. There are also unexpected chuckles heard during Magda's cellphone scene.

The viewer friendly Norte, Hangganan ng Kasaysayan shows Diaz at his storytelling best. Every scene and segment are necessary. Every discussion, even the initial nose-bleed-inducing intellectual discourse at a cafe, is relevant. Unlike his longer epics which contains a few wayward discussions, Norte is edited compactly with a running time of about 4 hours. This makes it the perfect Diaz film to recommend to newbies. Kudos also to co-writer Rody Vera.

Is Norte, The End of History the best local film of 2013? 

I don't know. I took a Yolanda-induced break from cinema viewings during the Cinema One festival run. I boycotted Cinemanila because of its maddening, fucked-up way of scheduling screenings. What I do know is I will watch Norte again on an Ayala cinema later this month. It is that good!

Updated (May 7):

I encountered a minor plot irritant during my second viewing of the film. However, I still believe that Norte should be the first Lav Diaz film that newcomers should watch.

I am not satisfied with the actions of Eliza after the incarceration of her husband. She is shown contemplating the killing of her children. She may not be the cook of an aborted eatery business. But, there are other jobs that she can tackle. The hardworking Ilocana is perfectly capable of eking out a living and feeding four people. We did see her vending vegetables later in the film.

Although the cliff scene is arguably implausible, it is necessary within the context of the last scene. Without the earlier scene, the poignant scene showing Ading with the orphans loses much of its power. This time though I agree that Ading is capable of killing the kids. She is lacking some nuts and bolts up there in her head.

The film seems to suggest that every Filipino has the potential to kill/betray their kin, family members, friends, disciples, and neighbors. Those who do so is either angry or crazy. The traitor Fabian is both batty and enraged.

A lot of us are outraged with the widespread scale of corruption in the high echelons of our government. But, as Fabian pointed out, will our collective rants and complaints eradicate the greedy, evil ones? Hmmmm, those crazy ideas of Fabian begin to make sense...

Heremias [Unang Aklat: Ang Alamat Ng Prinsesang Bayawak] (Lav Diaz, 2006)

The nine-hour epic Heremias is my pick as best Filipino film of the 2000s. It has a great start (probably the best initial two hours of a Lav Diaz epic), and a great cliffhanger of an ending. In between are amazing images and captivating stories. The tale of a Japanese straggler and the legend of the scary lizard deserve to be turned into separate films. Credit must also go to Ronnie Lazaro's excellent performance as Heremias.

I love this Malay time-inflected film! It is a joy to see such laid-back film with lots of extended takes. French film critic Andre Bazin remarked that a long take allows viewers to settle on the shot and gives more freedom as to where to look. The freedom given to viewers is exhilarating. There is a danger though of viewers tuning out or growing restless.

The first hour sets the pace of the film. It consists of several 10-minute or so long takes. The static shots focus on a handful of Brahman bull-drawn carts traversing a highway. The somber black and white cinematography enthralls the moviegoer to take a meditative look on the swaying grass blades and the zooming motor vehicles overtaking the carts. The lushness of the ambient sound enhances the contemplative experience.

The film slowly lures us into the unhurried world of roving handicrafts vendors. I enjoyed this segment of the movie. Director Lav Diaz reveals beauty in the routine activities of the joyful vendors and their families. The local adaptation of the children’s song ‘Where is Thumbkin?’ has never been sung with much gusto as in this film. Songs, stories, food, and liquor figure prominently in the world of close-knit villagers. Eating and drinking become main occasions of communal life. The drinking sessions in particular are not only entertaining but flesh out the characters.

The titular character, Heremias, seldom joins the men on extended drinking sessions. Thus, he ends up being the butt of stories. The elder of the group advises the men to just mind their own business and leave Heremias alone. During the course of the trip, Heremias chats with the elder. He wants to veer away from his companions. Despite friendly warnings about possible mugging and the prospect of running straight into a supertyphoon, he defiantly changes course and chooses the less-traveled road.

The film also suddenly shifts gear. There is a shot of the white Brahman bull plodding through the bumpy, rough road as seen from the eyes of Heremias. From that point on, the viewer is thrust into the point-of-view of Heremias. The willing viewer gets to see and hear what he is experiencing.

Contemplative moments abound in this film. There is a majestic, meditative scene showing a seated Heremias wading in the middle of a river. He is looking at a distant mountain. This scene prefigures a similar scene of a young Heremias looking at the Mayon Volcano in Book Two of Heremias. These meditative moments compel the viewer to ask what is exactly bugging the problematic merchant.

Slowly, the character of Heremias comes to light. A dark deed in the past continues to hound him. Random encounters with people inevitably remind him of his past. Their tales allude to his dark side. However, his bouts with contemplation and a strong typhoon wash away anger in his heart. He withholds at the last second his plan to kill a suspected thief.

Heremias seeks out the person/s responsible for the theft of his goods and his bull. Just as night falls, a group of young people holes up in his stakeout place. What Heremias (and the viewer) will see and hear for the next hour is disturbing enough to make people walk away. Try to imagine seeing drug crazed people doing despicable acts for almost an hour. Add to that shattering experience the cuss words and lewd stories rifling out of their foul mouths. These acts are light-years away from contemplative moments experienced by Heremias. He may have been itching to walk away but cannot because he might miss out on something important. He (and the viewer) patiently waits. The waiting took the whole of the penultimate hour but no earthshaking info came out of it.

Paradoxically refreshed from the draining segment, I later caught on with the important plot info. The last hour of the film saw me eagerly anticipating Heremias’ efforts to rescue a young girl. After exhausting major means of saving her, the prophet-like Heremias gets kicked out of town by the police chief and left unconscious in the forest. Upon waking up, he implores God to save her. He hikes off to the mountains and vows to fast for 40 days. Redemption comes at last to the troubled wandering merchant.

I’ve seen a two-hour preview of Book Two and it lives up to the high standards set by Heremias [Book One: The Legend of the Lizard Princess]. I hope Diaz can finish Book Two so that viewers can finally grasp the answers to lingering questions such as: What happens to the young girl? What are the dark secrets of reticent Heremias? Will Book Two equal the excellence of Book One?

Original online posting in February 2010

Prologo sa Ang Dakilang Desaparecido (Lav Diaz, 2013)

Lav Diaz's films are noted for their high contrast black and white images. But, I was still surprised with the extreme depth of contrast exhibited in the short film Prologo sa Ang Dakilang Desaparecido. It was like seeing a 3D film. I was waiting for the majestic, sauntering white horse to evict the minion of Emilio Aguinaldo and jump through the screen. 

Take a look at the picture above. It feels like raindrops or a falling leaf will penetrate your computer screen any moment now. Lav's elegant, deep focus images should be seen and experienced in movie theaters. Just avoid the front-row seats or you'll end up blinded like deer caught in blazing headlights.

The English title, Prologue to The Great Desaparecido, reveals the short film to be a teaser to an important film The Great Desaparecido. It is important because the desaparecido referred to is none other than Andres Bonifacio, who was born on the 30th of November 150 years ago.

It is heart-wrenching seeing Gregoria de Jesus scour the boondocks for the remains of her husband. She endured humiliation and possibly rape in order to save her husband but they killed him just the same. The skies burst open as if sympathizing with her. The lush, ambient sounds of the raindrops are starkly contrasted by the piercing silent grief of the Lakambini of the Katipunan. She doggedly looks on for the burial site. It is painful to watch, but you just can't take your eyes off the screen because of the chiaroscuro imagery and the glorious soundscape.

The short film made me shout out the lyrics of a Rock Supremo song by Radioactive Sago Project: 'Hoy Emilio, nasaan ang mga buto?' We might as well change the lyrics to 'Hoy Palparan, nasaan ang mga iskolars?' and 'Hoy Ampatuan, nasaan ang 58th victim?'

The Road to Melancholia: Sagada Diaries (Emman de la Cruz | 1st Reinvigorating Documentary Filmmaking Workshop)

Emmanuel de la Cruz / Angeli Bayani

An example of the refreshing documentaries from the 2010 workshop, this docu provides a penetrating glimpse into the making of Lav Diaz’s film Melancholia. Cool as the Amihan wind, the maverick filmmaker is seen shooting guerrilla style with a sparse crew in the mountains of Sagada. During a scene that has taken forever to complete, he calms down the actors by saying “Relax lang.”

Does he ever get angry? Rarely.

There was one time when he encountered a child actor who couldn't follow his instruction. Tasked to make a sad face, the boy dilly-dallied because he says he is basically a happy child. An irate Lav halted the shooting and packed up.

Emmanuel de la Cruz does a wonderful job of providing tidbits and insights about Maguindanao-born colleague, Lav Diaz. In just over a half hour, I’d learned a lot about his background and source of ideas. Lavrente Diaz, whose first name is of Russian origin, grew up in a home filled with books by Russian authors. The Dostoyevskian characters he relished in his youth will soon appear in various forms in most of his films.

The Diaz family was a victim of the vicious war in Maguindanao and North Cotabato. A series of hamlettings forced family members to vacate their home and become refugees. The idea of being displaced is a major theme in his films. A crime from the past or pursuit of artistic endeavor or natural/political disasters will cause main characters to leave their homes or towns. The displaced and dispossessed characters then grapple with deep melancholia, chilly loneliness, and the search for redemption.

Rebels on the run

The film Melancholia deals with a trio of dispossessed characters, Alberta, Rina, and Julian. Instead of missing valuable things, they are ruing the disappearance of their loved ones. The film is still the best I’ve seen about desaparecidos or enforced disappearances. Film critic Noli delivers a wonderful review of the film here.

I remember a Melancholia scene wherein an Ifugao elder is clearly heard complaining about being filmed. There is nothing degrading in the shot having been merely a market crowd scene. But, the thought I had then was the tribesman must have been wishing for some payment. Sure enough, as seen in the documentary, a female local government employee is running after the filmmakers. She is asking for the group’s permit to shoot. A female member from Diaz’s group does the damage control. Meanwhile, Lav is nowhere in sight. He is probably holed up in a distant place and coolly relaxing away from it all.

Hesus, Rebolusyunaryo (2001, Lav Diaz)

Mostly set in year 2011, the prophetic film starts with art works (and films) being censored and burned by the Department of Culture and the Armed Forces. Paintings and books are used as fodder for a hungry bonfire on the street.

Cut to the real world, and you'll notice the resemblance to attempts to burn down and close down a divisive art work exhibited at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP). Most objectors decried the defilement of pictures and statues of Jesus Christ.

Cue back to the film, made in 2001, and you'll realize that the name of the major character is Hesus. The uncanny similarities are quite unnerving and troubling. Censorship and blocking of Cinemalaya films is now a possibility after the precedent shown by the CCP board with Mideo Cruz's art work. Artists rose in arms to protest the closure of the exhibit.

Hesus, Rebolusyunaryo also deals with a firebrand artist. Hesus Mariano (Mark Anthony Fernandez) loves music and poetry. His book Landas ni Ybarra has been compared with the incendiary Noli Me Tangere by Jose Rizal. He worked before as a journalist but the rise to power of General Cyrus Racellos likely pushed him to join the underground movement.

Hesus is on top of the list of the most wanted men by the military. He became a legend for carrying out high-profile liquidation missions for the rebel group called the People's Liberation Front. His expertise in handling guns made him a perfect choice for assassinations and, once in a while, purging of moles in the movement.

A recent purging of comrades in his cell led to his being critically wounded. He gets captured by the military. Colonel Simon (Joel Lamangan) takes a huge interest in the welfare of the unconscious prisoner. Knowing the youngster’s passion for music and poetry, Simon plays loudly some ethnic music, classical music, and a punk-rock ditty in his room. But, none was effective in reviving him save for the poem-letter written by Hesus himself.

This poem, which gets a second reading at the end of the film, seems to symbolize art works that spur people to feel truly alive. Detailed description of Hesus’ rustic life shows the stark contrast to his life on the run in the urban jungles. These memories of joyful days in Bicol and his pretty lady love Hilda (an allusion to Ligaya Paraiso?) are enough to resurrect him.

Mabuhay ang pelikulang Pilipino! - Lav

Most of Lav Diaz’s films deal with the power of art to redeem humanity and the role of artists as social movers. This film is probably one of the most personal of his works. His ideology and commentaries on art and the state of the nation are clearly brought out in the open. A clue to the autobiographical slant of the film is a scene that mirrors the house on fire scene in Andrei Tarkovsky’s Mirror. The next scene shows a mirror breaking up into pieces. The Russian film is, just like Diaz’s film, chockfull of autobiographical tidbits about its maker.

Hesus, Rebolusyunaryo shows Diaz’s nationalism, keen observation, and deep passion for art, music, films, and poetry. I’ve been an avid fan of Lav Diaz’s features/reviews for Jingle magazine in the late 1980s and early 1990s. He was responsible for luring me to the world of nationalistic troubadours such as Joey Ayala, Patatag, and Inang Laya. When the magazine disbanded, I’d lost track of Diaz. It was when he came up with his enigmatic films that I began to devour readings about his life and works. From an excellent lengthy interview by the late Alexis Tioseco, I’d learnt that he was a former journalist and that as a kid he saw people at checkpoints singing the Lupang Hinirang; both elements crop up in the film.

I agree with Lav Diaz’s stand against censorship. He says ‘censorship is poison to the arts (and culture).’ Mideo Cruz’s art work Poleteismo should not have been censored and closed down. The best revenge for those who got offended with it should have been to just ignore the installation. I’d seen the installation during my Cinemalaya 2011 film sojourn and would have completely forgotten about it had it not been for the controversy. As it is, the objectors put back the limelight on a not-so-great art work.

Year 2011 will be remembered not for Poleteismo but for Lav Diaz’s new, soon-to-be premiering films, Babae ng Hangin, and Siglo ng Pagluluwal. And, you don’t have to be a prophet to know that. It is just faith. Faith in the redemptive power of Lav Diaz’s art works.