Arts Month in Alaminos: Inspiring hope through cinema
It’s National Arts Month as organized and sponsored by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA). And the regions are astir with workshops, lectures, forums, dance presentations, exhibits, film screenings, guest celebrities who send young audiences screaming, and other events that will last until the first week of March.
One highlight was a cinema event, a workshop attended by hundreds of students in Alaminos City, Pangasinan, better known as the home of Hundred Islands, one of the top tourist destinations in the Philippines.
The event led off with a message of hope from Mayor Arth Bryan Celeste. Then Butch Ibañez, an NCCA cinema official, told the youths, who were in school uniforms: “Art like cinema tells a story and expresses an emotion. It can inspire change, it should inspire future generations. You students are our future artists.”
City tourism officer Miguel L. Sison added, “to appreciate the value of film, one should appreciate the various elements like acting, directing, and writing. These should foster a different direction for our youth and the arts.”
The crux of the workshop was the showing of “Love Child,” a film about an autistic child which was a finalist during last year’s Cinemalaya Film Festival. Autism is defined as brain malfunction which affects how people interact, communicate, learn, and behave; autism appears before the age of 3. In the film under review, the autistic child is age 4.
Palanca winner
Director Jonathan Jurilla, who himself has an autistic son, was present during the screening and addressed the students after the show. The Palanca Award-winning screenplay was written by Arden Rod Condez, Arianna Martinez, and Angel Benjamin.
RK Bagatsing as Paolo and Jane Oineza as Ayla give felt performances as the parents of Kali (played with disarming naturalness by John Tyrron Ramos), a 4-year-old child with the mind of an 11-year-old. Paolo dreams of being a director, while Ayla is the real breadwinner of the family, having a corporate job accomplished via laptop. To cope with mounting costs, the couple set up a coffee business outside their trailer.
As the film progresses, we see Kali’s condition unraveling. He becomes almost violent, hard to control, screaming and throwing things around. The parents send the boy to one special school after another, none of which are inexpensive. The pressure builds up. Ayla’s work is affected and she is harassed by her boss via a voiceover. Paolo considers working abroad to help with the finances.
Come Christmas time, and the kids put on a Christmas show, which proceeds smoothly. Even Kali gets into the act. We see the beaming parents taking photos of their child, as he or she performs. Paolo and Ayla are so dumbstruck at Kali’s good behavior that they forget to take photos of the boy.
After the show, however, a problem arises. Kali disappears, is nowhere to be found. The distraught parents receive a tip that the boy is in the country club. Next we see Kali descending the steps of a swimming pool and the students screamed, fearful that he might drown. Then the parents materialize and, fully clothed, plunge into the pool to rescue the boy. It is the father who is the first to reach Kali who, for the first time in the two-hour film, cries out, “Papa, Papa.”
The students screamed again, this time in joy at the outcome. I myself felt goosebumps, being vulnerable to heart-tugging father-and-son scenes like this.
The real Kali
During the Q&A, director Jurilla shared that the inspiration for the story was an actual case of autism, his son’s.
“There are many stories connected,” he said. “So I had to develop certain parts. It was like a journey, my journey as a father, my wife’s journey as a mother, celebrating the ‘autistic genius’ of our son. In the Philippines if you’re autistic, you have an inherent talent.”
Addressing the students, Jurilla said, “You are young, you can go back to your activities. But to make a story, to make a film now if not later, you can attend workshops like this. And you can approach someone if you want to make a film.”
Later, I asked Jurilla how his son is now. “He is now 16,” he beamed. “And he can speak a little.”
