The ‘Midnight Girls’ keep on dancing until the sun rises
The soundtrack in Irene Villamor’s “Midnight Girls” is kind of ironic. “Bakit Papa,” the novelty pop hit by the SexBomb Girls, serves as a musical motif throughout the film. Its lyrics—“laban-laban o bawi-bawi”—imply the possibility of choice. But as the story shimmies in step with the neon of Nagoya, Japan, it becomes clear that these women, in fact, have no other choice but to fight.
Vicky (Jodi Sta. Maria), Paris (Sanya Lopez), Saki (Jane Oineza), and Wanna (Loisa Andalio) endure what many OFWs know all too well: distance, isolation, and the surrender of their dreams to build someone else’s. Interaction with their family at home defaults to a question—“Kumusta ka?”—because they don’t have the luxury of not needing to ask in the first place.
Still, their sincerity is questioned because they dared to aim higher and provide something that wasn’t asked of them. Because if life there is so hard, why are you still there?
Undercurrent of loneliness
The battles are primarily fought inside the omise or hostess club, where they perform in glitzy ensembles and offer shots of vodka to patrons thirsty for companionship. The girls rely on their special qualities, or jutsu, as they call it—beauty, energy, and most importantly, “tibay ng sikmura,” because the lapad they covet can come at the cost of harassment and swallowed dignity.
There’s a stigma that comes with their line of work, and it follows them outside the club, even in plain clothes. The women are aware of this, but they have also learned to live with it, so much so that they no longer feel the need to dance around the words other people say under their breath: “imoral,” “Japayuki,” “pokpok,” “puta.”
But sometimes, judgment comes from those they expect to understand—their loved ones, their fellow Filipinos—and there’s no getting used to that.
As such, these entertainers live with an undercurrent of loneliness, and the film does a good job of conveying that through music. Similar to “Bakit Papa,” the rock ballad “Pagsubok” by Orient Pearl is by all means a battle cry: “Mga pagsubok lamang ‘yan / Huwag mong itigil ang laban.” But here it’s rendered like a MIDI-minus-one track, and as it accompanies Vicky’s lonesome walk from her apartment to work, it evokes something counterintuitive—the melancholy of an empty bar with karaoke playing in the background.
Shared responsibility
But there’s solace to be found in sisterhood, in each other’s stories, quirks, and grief.
Vicky, the glue that holds everyone together, wears her trench coat not only to put on a dignified front but perhaps to hide her secrets and contain her family’s resentment. The vivacious Paris has already provided materially for her family and can reward herself with nice things, but can’t seem to sate a deeper unhappiness. The stoic but doting Saki is weighed down by something so near year yet so far. With the arrival of Wanna, wide-eyed and full of dreams, the rest of the group finds purpose as mentors.
And in their shared responsibility, Vicky, Paris, and Saki see in Wanna a version of themselves they can never get back, and Wanna sees in them a future she isn’t sure she wants.
Affecting performances
One of the film’s strongest suits is acting. Sta. Maria delivers a restrained performance that makes one feel the lump in her throat as she chokes on her words during video calls with her son, played by Zaijian Jaranilla, whose brilliance transcends his co-actor’s physical absence.
There’s jadedness in the way Oineza takes a drag from her cigarette, and longing in her furtive glances. Andalio is infectiously winsome in her naivete, and she meets Wanna’s inevitable, if abrupt, growth in stride. Lopez, who screams the film’s most quotable line, is effortlessly funny when she cracks her jokes, but equally devastating when the joke turns on her.
It’s not all doom and gloom, and the girls find moments of levity among themselves, though these are fragile and fleeting, like the blooming of a sakura tree. For all the harsh realities of nightlife and its unsavory reputation, the film also captures its mundanities and, in rare instances, shows that something genuine can be born out of the transactional.
To be a human and a woman
The film mostly stays within the expectations of an OFW’s drama. The dramatic sequences occasionally teeter on being wordy or overwrought. Some themes and subplots feel loosely tacked on and end up underdeveloped—but woven-in testimonials from real-life entertainers put them into perspective. The climax may feel a bit unearned or disproportionate to the preceding events, but when it finally all goes down, it’s still undoubtedly real and moving.
For much of their journeys, the women make it appear that, despite life’s tremors, they can hold the center. In an ideal world, they would be back home with their families, but here they are losing it in a cold parking lot in a foreign land. They try to be mothers, providers, performers—everything a woman can possibly be—and the only thing fueling them is courage and grit. They fight, but oh, how exhausting it is.
The music keeps playing. But the thing about the midnight girls is that they will continue to dance and stay awake long enough to see the sun rise.
