Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros

Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros
(The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros)
Directed by Auraeus Solito
Written by Michiko Yamamoto

It was enough of a challenge to just sit through and watch, especially when I knew I could be watching Glee or something equally entertaining instead of torturing myself with substantial life lessons. The grainy visuals and the not-quite-cleaned-up sound were just as much representative of the truth as they are part of the charm of independent cinema. Truly, independent cinema is unlike anything else.

The film hit closer to home than any other—perhaps for the obvious reason that it was, in actuality, closer to home. Where else would you find star shaped plastic lanterns and Christmas lights you know—you just know—someone went through bulb by bulb to find the loose one and bring the entire set back to life after finding it in someone else’s trash? There were other familiar scenes, of course: a poster of Claudine Baretto and Vilma Santos, neighbors betting daily in jueteng or Lotto, yellow and green striped taxicabs, tabo and balde baths in the morning, and the sign of the cross before family dinner.

For a movie about a twelve-year-old, it was heavy. It was dark and slightly depressing. It dealt with morality, poverty, desperation, hunger (and not just the kind that the scarcity of food fails to fulfill), death, responsibility, sacrifice, family, loyalty, betrayal, and the blurred lines between right and wrong. Oh, and a tiny tinge of sex, but only in little hints.

Maxi Oliveros needed to grow up fast, as dictated by the circumstances (a late mother and the need to scramble around for money to survive), but within him is still a young, innocent child, who has yet to learn so much.

It’s confusing for the viewer who needs clear cut lines. The stereotypical hero isn’t, and the family that seems to have such skewed values formed only through intense rationalizing. But then you’re also forced to realize that these values come about as a result of real need. Towards the end, even the very straight (and not necessarily in terms of sexual orientation) police man fails to hold on to the values that the silver crucifix perpetually hanging on his neck reminds him never to let go of.

This was difficult.