Set in pre-war Intramuros of Old Manila, the cinematic adaptation of the 1997 theatrical musical of the same name, itself an adaptation of national artist Nick Joaquin's 1950 literary play A Portrait of the Artist as Filipino, tells the story of the Marasigan sisters, Candida (Joanna Ampil) and Paula (Rachel Alejandro), and their father Don Lorenzo el Magnifico, a renowned painter who, prior to the events of the story, had experienced an artistic drought that drove the family into poverty and then an accident that left him crippled and confined to his room. With the meager financial support of their older siblings Manolo (Nonie Buencamino) and Pepang (Mechu Lauchengco-Yulo), failing to help make ends meet, the sisters are faced with the dilemma of whether or not to sell their father's gift to them, the titular masterpiece "A Portrait of the Artist as Filipino", as a quick means of escape as the war looms ever closer.
Needless to say, the painting itself has attracted the attention and intrigue of many. This includes the young journalist and old family friend Bitoy Camacho (Sandino Martin), the handsome yet opportunistic vaudeville piano player and male boarder Tony Javier (Paulo Avelino), and the old poet-turned-politician Don Perico (Robert Arevalo) along with his wife the flamboyantly boisterous socialite Donya Loleng (Celeste Legaspi).
On the get-go, the film does a magnificent job in reeling viewers in, with an opening montage of scenes from pre-war Manila to the tune of Celeste Legaspi's rendition of "Intramuros", poetically establishing the film's physical and emotional territory, as it steadily shifts to the slowly decaying Marasigan household in which majority of the film takes place. From here, we see that director Loy Arcenas takes a rather conservative approach to adapting a work of musical theatre, keeping it mostly intact with minimal necessary liberties, albeit toning down on the sung dialogue to stem the pop-ish elements that were quite problematic for the 1997 musical, from what I heard.
Though this doesn't necessarily make it a bad thing, granted being a creative decision on Loy Arcenas' part, going with a literal stage-to-screen translation can be somewhat clumsy and almost obviates the need for a cinematic adaptation. Frankly speaking, there were certain events I preferred to see played out on the screen rather than exposition via mostly-sung dialogue, such as what transpired during Paula's brief disappearance in the third act.
Still, whatever shortcomings the film had narrative-wise, it manages to hold well in all the other areas. One can see that Loy Arcenas puts a lot of love and effort into crafting it, and it manifests in every scene. The film, as with Joaquin's original play, utilizes nostalgia as a central theme so effectively with its production design, cinematography, scoring, and, of course, performances by the ensemble cast; entreating us to quite the visual spectacle of life in Old Manila, just teeming with culture.
The production design's intricacies are most noticeable upon viewing the film, and designer Gino Gonzales deserves much praise for it. Needless to say, he puts in the authenticity of both the costumes and sets all the way down to the minutest of details, with the end result balancing accurate recreation of the time period with effective communication of details about the characters. This is, of course, very well complemented by Boy Yniquez's cinematography, which impressively captures the emotional landscapes that fill the mostly-interior scenes, even having them strikingly reminiscent of colored postwar photos.
It goes without saying that Ronaldo Tinio's libretto and Ryan Cayabyab's composition are the heart and soul of the film, magnificently creating the atmosphere of woe and ruin with the occasional ray of hope plus a slight tinge of bliss that defines much of the film. All the songs are sung passionately and successfully convey the emotions and motivations of the characters, further investing one into the spectacle. Though, truth be told, I did find some issues on the apparent emphasis on close-ups during a number of the emotional scenes, which sort of detracts from the concurrent conflict, and some parts felt a little dragged out.
For the performances, Joanna Ampil and Rachel Alejandro both shine in their respective roles as Candida and Paula. One can easily say that they didn't simply perform their roles, but rather they owned them. In what I hear is her first feature film role, Joanna Ampil successfully channels and translates her Broadway prowess as the obstinate and strict Candida, and does it even better when she exhibits her remorseful, vulnerable side, which is marvelously done in the third act. On the other hand, I still have mixed feelings regarding the character Paula, the younger and more reserved of the two. While we still see her desire for liberation and her decisions portrayed on the big screen, not much is seen of her transformation in the end, mainly due to the writing. It's a shame, however, as Rachel Alejandro does very well in portraying her character's impulsiveness and naiveté. Both have many strong moments together in the film, whether they're standing together or fighting each other, the latter due to the meddling of Tony Javier.
Speaking of which, Paulo Avelino does splendidly as the handsome, seductive yet shady Tony Javier, possessing both the face and the swagger required by the role. And he does it best at the parts where he enthralls and attempts to manipulate Paula's desire to escape for his own ends, which is to sell him the titular painting. The downside I see to this, however, is that the film misses the opportunity to delve deeper into the character's motivations, which is merely summed up as obtaining a sort of commission from his foreign buyer, which kind of leaves a lot more to be desired in terms of character motivations in my opinion.
The rest of the ensemble did spectacularly in each of their own ways. First I'd like to mention are Nonie Buencamino and Mechu Lauchengco-Yulo respectively as Manolo and Pepang, the self-centered elder siblings of the Candida and Paula. They have quite the formidable dynamic, exhibiting a sort of sibling-rivalry with one another, particularly when they argue over dividing the furniture amongst themselves when they are to sell the house, yet are equally cunning and deceitful. Needlessly speaking, both serve as the perfect foils to their younger sisters and play it out like the ultimate antagonistic match-up made in casting heaven.
Another performance worth mentioning is Robert Arevalo as Don Perico, godfather to the two sisters and a former renowned poet who has since become a well-regarded senator. While his appearance isn't as long, it manages to make quite the emotional impact, in which he portrays a changed man who shows deep emotional remorse over a choice he made long ago that is giving up his art for a more comfortable life in politics. This mourning over his lost past is spurred by viewing the titular painting and the sisters' refusal to give it to him, ironically based on the same idealistic principles he gave up so long ago.
On the other end of this spectrum is none other than Celeste Legaspi's portrayal of Donya Loleng, Don Perico's wife. Despite her rather advanced age, she does very well in pulling-off a rather lively and festive performance, embracing just about every stereotype of social animals, boasting of sophistication, yet missing the point in a lot of things.
Others worth mentioning are Sandino Martin as Bitoy Camacho, who basically serves as Nick Joaquin's stand-in in the story and whose older self, in a vocal cameo by Leo Martinez, serving as the narrator; Cris Villonco and Aicelle Santos as Susan and Violet (respectively), Tony Javier's fellow vaudeville entertainers whose constant intrusions into the Marasigan household made for some really comedic moments; and the dozens of epic, albeit brief, cameos of many theatre arts veterans, including but not limited to, Zsa Zsa Padilla, Rayver Cruz, Ogie Alcasid, Jojit Lorenzo, Dulce, Bernardo Bernardo, Nanette Inventor, Noel Trinidad, Jaime Fabregas, Ricky Davao, and Ryan Cayabyab himself.
Overall, while not necessarily perfect, Ang Larawan was indeed a solid entry for 2018 MMFF, boasting taste and culture (probably the only one in both counts). However, within its nostalgic portrait of the Manila of days past lies a poignant tale examining the themes of art, loyalty, family, and greed that accomplishes much not only in its technical aspects but also in conveying Nick Joaquin's timeless message of honoring one's past for what it represents. A reminder to never forget our ideals and identity, even as others conform to the ever-changing world. That amidst the culture of decadence and degeneracy, truth and beauty are worth fighting for and shall ultimately triumph in the end. Despite the flaws, Ang Larawan firmly stands a masterpiece in its own right, and it is one you definitely wouldn't want to miss out on.
Needless to say, the painting itself has attracted the attention and intrigue of many. This includes the young journalist and old family friend Bitoy Camacho (Sandino Martin), the handsome yet opportunistic vaudeville piano player and male boarder Tony Javier (Paulo Avelino), and the old poet-turned-politician Don Perico (Robert Arevalo) along with his wife the flamboyantly boisterous socialite Donya Loleng (Celeste Legaspi).
On the get-go, the film does a magnificent job in reeling viewers in, with an opening montage of scenes from pre-war Manila to the tune of Celeste Legaspi's rendition of "Intramuros", poetically establishing the film's physical and emotional territory, as it steadily shifts to the slowly decaying Marasigan household in which majority of the film takes place. From here, we see that director Loy Arcenas takes a rather conservative approach to adapting a work of musical theatre, keeping it mostly intact with minimal necessary liberties, albeit toning down on the sung dialogue to stem the pop-ish elements that were quite problematic for the 1997 musical, from what I heard.
Though this doesn't necessarily make it a bad thing, granted being a creative decision on Loy Arcenas' part, going with a literal stage-to-screen translation can be somewhat clumsy and almost obviates the need for a cinematic adaptation. Frankly speaking, there were certain events I preferred to see played out on the screen rather than exposition via mostly-sung dialogue, such as what transpired during Paula's brief disappearance in the third act.
Still, whatever shortcomings the film had narrative-wise, it manages to hold well in all the other areas. One can see that Loy Arcenas puts a lot of love and effort into crafting it, and it manifests in every scene. The film, as with Joaquin's original play, utilizes nostalgia as a central theme so effectively with its production design, cinematography, scoring, and, of course, performances by the ensemble cast; entreating us to quite the visual spectacle of life in Old Manila, just teeming with culture.
The production design's intricacies are most noticeable upon viewing the film, and designer Gino Gonzales deserves much praise for it. Needless to say, he puts in the authenticity of both the costumes and sets all the way down to the minutest of details, with the end result balancing accurate recreation of the time period with effective communication of details about the characters. This is, of course, very well complemented by Boy Yniquez's cinematography, which impressively captures the emotional landscapes that fill the mostly-interior scenes, even having them strikingly reminiscent of colored postwar photos.
It goes without saying that Ronaldo Tinio's libretto and Ryan Cayabyab's composition are the heart and soul of the film, magnificently creating the atmosphere of woe and ruin with the occasional ray of hope plus a slight tinge of bliss that defines much of the film. All the songs are sung passionately and successfully convey the emotions and motivations of the characters, further investing one into the spectacle. Though, truth be told, I did find some issues on the apparent emphasis on close-ups during a number of the emotional scenes, which sort of detracts from the concurrent conflict, and some parts felt a little dragged out.
For the performances, Joanna Ampil and Rachel Alejandro both shine in their respective roles as Candida and Paula. One can easily say that they didn't simply perform their roles, but rather they owned them. In what I hear is her first feature film role, Joanna Ampil successfully channels and translates her Broadway prowess as the obstinate and strict Candida, and does it even better when she exhibits her remorseful, vulnerable side, which is marvelously done in the third act. On the other hand, I still have mixed feelings regarding the character Paula, the younger and more reserved of the two. While we still see her desire for liberation and her decisions portrayed on the big screen, not much is seen of her transformation in the end, mainly due to the writing. It's a shame, however, as Rachel Alejandro does very well in portraying her character's impulsiveness and naiveté. Both have many strong moments together in the film, whether they're standing together or fighting each other, the latter due to the meddling of Tony Javier.
Speaking of which, Paulo Avelino does splendidly as the handsome, seductive yet shady Tony Javier, possessing both the face and the swagger required by the role. And he does it best at the parts where he enthralls and attempts to manipulate Paula's desire to escape for his own ends, which is to sell him the titular painting. The downside I see to this, however, is that the film misses the opportunity to delve deeper into the character's motivations, which is merely summed up as obtaining a sort of commission from his foreign buyer, which kind of leaves a lot more to be desired in terms of character motivations in my opinion.
The rest of the ensemble did spectacularly in each of their own ways. First I'd like to mention are Nonie Buencamino and Mechu Lauchengco-Yulo respectively as Manolo and Pepang, the self-centered elder siblings of the Candida and Paula. They have quite the formidable dynamic, exhibiting a sort of sibling-rivalry with one another, particularly when they argue over dividing the furniture amongst themselves when they are to sell the house, yet are equally cunning and deceitful. Needlessly speaking, both serve as the perfect foils to their younger sisters and play it out like the ultimate antagonistic match-up made in casting heaven.
Another performance worth mentioning is Robert Arevalo as Don Perico, godfather to the two sisters and a former renowned poet who has since become a well-regarded senator. While his appearance isn't as long, it manages to make quite the emotional impact, in which he portrays a changed man who shows deep emotional remorse over a choice he made long ago that is giving up his art for a more comfortable life in politics. This mourning over his lost past is spurred by viewing the titular painting and the sisters' refusal to give it to him, ironically based on the same idealistic principles he gave up so long ago.
On the other end of this spectrum is none other than Celeste Legaspi's portrayal of Donya Loleng, Don Perico's wife. Despite her rather advanced age, she does very well in pulling-off a rather lively and festive performance, embracing just about every stereotype of social animals, boasting of sophistication, yet missing the point in a lot of things.
Others worth mentioning are Sandino Martin as Bitoy Camacho, who basically serves as Nick Joaquin's stand-in in the story and whose older self, in a vocal cameo by Leo Martinez, serving as the narrator; Cris Villonco and Aicelle Santos as Susan and Violet (respectively), Tony Javier's fellow vaudeville entertainers whose constant intrusions into the Marasigan household made for some really comedic moments; and the dozens of epic, albeit brief, cameos of many theatre arts veterans, including but not limited to, Zsa Zsa Padilla, Rayver Cruz, Ogie Alcasid, Jojit Lorenzo, Dulce, Bernardo Bernardo, Nanette Inventor, Noel Trinidad, Jaime Fabregas, Ricky Davao, and Ryan Cayabyab himself.
Overall, while not necessarily perfect, Ang Larawan was indeed a solid entry for 2018 MMFF, boasting taste and culture (probably the only one in both counts). However, within its nostalgic portrait of the Manila of days past lies a poignant tale examining the themes of art, loyalty, family, and greed that accomplishes much not only in its technical aspects but also in conveying Nick Joaquin's timeless message of honoring one's past for what it represents. A reminder to never forget our ideals and identity, even as others conform to the ever-changing world. That amidst the culture of decadence and degeneracy, truth and beauty are worth fighting for and shall ultimately triumph in the end. Despite the flaws, Ang Larawan firmly stands a masterpiece in its own right, and it is one you definitely wouldn't want to miss out on.
