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.

Luna

Luna
Julie Anne Peters

Coming out is something that each individual has to go through, whether homosexual, bisexual, transsexual, transgender, heterosexual, or anything else. It’s just far more subtle when who you are inside happens to be the same as who people can see outside. For Luna, it’s not that easy.

Luna cover

Luna is transsexual teen who was born in a boy’s body, but wishes more than anything to live in the body where she belongs. She faces discrimination, bullying, and is misunderstood with her life under the magnifying glass of critical peers and a very conventional family. But at least she has her younger sister Regan to help her through.

Regan doesn’t just watch as her brother Liam morphs into her sister Luna at ungodly hours, prancing around in their shared basement in dresses and makeup. She keeps Luna’s secret, knowing it matters more than anything else possibly could. It’s a heavy burden that she describes as feeling like a suffocating jacket she can’t seem to take off. But she loves her sister, and it pains her to see Luna unhappy.

When Luna finally decides it’s time to tell their dad the truth about herself, Regan worries. Regan is always worrying about Luna; it’s as though her whole life has revolved around protecting her. Flashbacks tell bits of the story, little things that Regan remembers and now sees through a different light.

The entire story is told through Regan, which I felt was the best way it could’ve been told. The book doesn’t attempt to get deep into Luna’s mind—only as far as Luna allows Regan. (Also, it shows the truth of how sexuality is no longer a personal matter; it affects so many of the people who surround you). In this way, we understand just how complicated it really is, just how difficult it is to understand transsexuality, but also how difficult it is to be someone you just know you’re not. The trouble lies in who the rest of the world think you should be.

I’m still undecided—was it happy ending? With so much at stake, you’re bound to have to give something up.

Don’t you know, you’re the girl I always wanted to be.

My Heartbeat

My Heartbeat
Garret Freymann-Weyr

Ellen has been in love with James since the seventh grade. She loves her brother Link (James’s best friend) just as much. The three of them have a close-knit relationship, the boys sharing a special bond Ellen accepts she isn’t part of. Ellen has just started ninth grade at the school James and Link are about to graduate from. One of her new friends casually mentions that she thinks James and Link are a couple.

So Ellen wonders. Finally, she asks them, but still she doesn’t get a clear answer—because neither of them is sure.

My Heartbeat cover

As they each begin to understand further, an interesting point is brought up. James tells Ellen that she was their insurance. So long as she was around, they were safe—nothing that shouldn’t be happening would end up happening.

My Heartbeat is a story of fear and expectations, and what it means to really know someone. There are unwritten social laws yet to be understood, and a mind with a heartbeat yet to be formed. It’s a love triangle that you don’t even realize is there until you take a step back and stop to think. It’s a love triangle where each one truly loves the other two, and that, I think is something to be admired.

Together and apart, they deal with their own issues. From all sorts of rebellion, to music, to advanced math, running seven miles every morning, searching for happy endings, sketching strangers, and learning to see—to really see, the three of them develop subtly but beautifully.

James has experienced much more than either of the siblings, in terms of sex and life in general, and speaks with wisdom that he doesn’t acknowledge. Ellen and Link are both under the guidance of a pair of loving parents: a mother with the ability to understand what is unsaid, and a father who wants nothing more than for his children to develop their own minds (so long as they conform to certain boundaries).

There is no lack of love in this story.

In the words of one of the characters, a good book is a reflection of some kind of truth. This was a good book.

South of Nowhere

South of Nowhere

By the time I heard about South of Nowhere, the show was on its last few episodes. I was a little late. I don’t think it’s ever been aired here. A friend burned me DVD’s of the first two seasons.

Its storyline was similar to that of any other teenage drama. Family moves to California from another state, the kids are exposed to local life and begin to adjust, the parents go through culture shock. It’s always the same, with just a little tweaking – look at The OC and 90210.

South of Nowhere scene from opening credits

So Spencer Carlin moved to Los Angeles and met the bitchy cheerleader, developed a crush on the heartthrob jock, and met the strange girl, Ashley, who didn’t quite fit in. But stereotyping is done away with soon enough. Each of the characters grows and learns – through religion, death, discrimination, drugs, money, sex, parenting, siblinghood, and prom.

By the end of the third season, you don’t have that character that you wish would just get out of the way of everyone else so that life could just be happier. The show isn’t presented in a particularly biased way; it just shows what is. The thing is, you have to be willing to see what is, as it is.

Don’t think of it as a lesbian series, because that’s not all it’s about – just like people are not solely defined by their sexuality. Everyone is something more. South of Nowhere is something more.

Perhaps what made the show succeed was that it had found its niche. It dealt with teenage homosexuality, which should’ve been so obvious, and yet no shows before it had ever focused on the topic. If anything, all the other shows would have at most a few episodes of a character going through a gay phase (Marissa Cooper in season two of The OC, and Rebecca Logan in season two of Greek).

It didn’t have the elements that would make other shows work – the stunning actors, the beautiful wardrobes, the poetic dialogue. (In fact, I personally hated the outfits). It was so simple.

I loved the day at the beach. It was beautiful. And I loved how Ashley always stressed, “because it’s so important.”