From its odes to Wong Kar-wai, Sofia Coppola, Hirokazu Kore-eda, and even Jon Favreu's Chef (2014), Jopy Arnaldo's Gitling is a treat for film aficionados, especially for those who love to hurt themselves with stories of romantic tensions, time-constrained genuine connections, and comfortable yet painful silence.
Gitling puts Japanese filmmaker Makoto (Ken Yamamura) and his translator Jamie (Gabby Padilla) together in Bacolod for a film festival. In their slow-burn companionship, Makoto and Jamie create their own language, through crafting films or creating a literal new language, in dealing with their self-exploration in connection to their past.
There's an invisible intimacy between Jamie and Makoto. When they're alone on a balcony, in a restaurant, in a rest house in the mountain, and in a small space in Bacolod Ruins, they're speaking their new language made up of love for Filipino food, fascination over heartbreaking films, and reminders of personal issues. When silence envelops Jamie and Makoto, the emotional tension is so loud, reminding me of Chow Mo-wan and Su Li-zhen in Wong Kar-Wai's In The Mood For Love (which was mentioned in the film).
It feels intrusive to watch Makoto and Jamie spend their time together, especially knowing their time is limited but memorable. It's their moment that they can selfishly claim without owing any explanation to other people, including the audience. That's why the ending is an apt, bittersweet conclusion that left me broken yet satisfied.
Jamie recommended Makoto to include subtitles in the quiet scenes of his films for the audience to understand his intentions. As we continue to watch their companionship develop and blossom, maybe Jamie's suggestion is not right. Maybe, in some crucial moments, subtitles are just distractions from fostering emotional resonance.
Gitling puts Japanese filmmaker Makoto (Ken Yamamura) and his translator Jamie (Gabby Padilla) together in Bacolod for a film festival. In their slow-burn companionship, Makoto and Jamie create their own language, through crafting films or creating a literal new language, in dealing with their self-exploration in connection to their past.
There's an invisible intimacy between Jamie and Makoto. When they're alone on a balcony, in a restaurant, in a rest house in the mountain, and in a small space in Bacolod Ruins, they're speaking their new language made up of love for Filipino food, fascination over heartbreaking films, and reminders of personal issues. When silence envelops Jamie and Makoto, the emotional tension is so loud, reminding me of Chow Mo-wan and Su Li-zhen in Wong Kar-Wai's In The Mood For Love (which was mentioned in the film).
It feels intrusive to watch Makoto and Jamie spend their time together, especially knowing their time is limited but memorable. It's their moment that they can selfishly claim without owing any explanation to other people, including the audience. That's why the ending is an apt, bittersweet conclusion that left me broken yet satisfied.
Jamie recommended Makoto to include subtitles in the quiet scenes of his films for the audience to understand his intentions. As we continue to watch their companionship develop and blossom, maybe Jamie's suggestion is not right. Maybe, in some crucial moments, subtitles are just distractions from fostering emotional resonance.
