By Sebastian Torrelio

Deleter

Mikhail Red is at this point a public figure in the scope of Filipino cinema against the world. His latest, Deleter—sub-technological mystery horror and 2022 Metro Manila Film Festival Best Picture-winner—follows no tighter premise than the act of a haunted house’s outreach transformed into an office building’s Wi-Fi signal. Lyra (Nadine Lustre) works an outsourced job as a content moderator for a Facebook-esque website, constantly spending her few remaining sane hours wide-eyed against a computer screen, either passing or deleting through the gore, obscenities and disturbed cell phone clips that everyday citizens pick up, for innocent or malicious intention in equal.

Their task is to “handle data … not people,” as Lyra explains away for her friend Aileen (Louise delos Reyes), the only character of concrete stakes in the film. It makes sense – drag a role into the dark mentally, and the steps to embed them in darkness physically become smaller in turn.

The first act of Red’s modern thriller doesn’t seem to entirely know what to do with Lyra’s occupation anyhow, letting the scanned-through Internet play on its own tempo almost too seamlessly with the randomness of delight the Internet actually triggers. Most of her job, pre-dramatics, plays from a third-person angle as confusing, if not unintentionally humorous.

Not that Lyra’s view of social media is self-seriousness taken astray, more so that Red’s frame seems consistently imperfect, a beck and call to keep the digital world’s barrier into our own stable & threatening, but without the camerawork to persistently keep a hypnotized audience on the cusp of realism. Unlike recent postmodern breakthroughs, namely Jane Schoenbrun’s We’re All Going to World’s Fair, Deleter finds no rooted connection through the wiring, a sustained vibe of unrevealed horrors cut off by doldrums of meaningless white-collar task-mastering.

When the film’s final act is settled on its tracks veering toward the goalposts, the threatening aura of Red’s attempted sophisticated edge has whittled down a blunt stub. The last 30 minutes of Deleter, a repercussion of traumatic happenings that have surrounded Lyra’s life in the days prior, scurries into an oblique darkness – characters floating around the office building’s hallways to the willingness of intermittent red security lighting, every shot performed for set-placing without allowing the actors any presence within their own space. If actors are not given the occupied space to connect, life cut short via aerial camera becomes errant, death then in turn whimsical.


Seen at Cinemark Carson and XD

By Sebastian Torrelio

Hero

Jung Sung-hwa has led a historical charge forward in this role for a significant portion of his life thus far. Hero claims to be the first motion picture fully adapted in South Korea from a native Korean musical, Jung’s portrayal of nationalist Ahn Jung-geun transitioning alongside the source. He does take the liberties of transformation to heart with such a brutalist narrative – recreating the personal strokes that took Ahn through the final period of his life, leading into the assassination of Japanese Prime Minister Ito Hirobumi.

Songs string along the first half of Hero, inspirational operatic breaks that never coax the outlying direction too disruptively. Even so, some numbers arise organically into a splendid vigor more emotional than stage-play standards can suffice. One showstopping tune from Kim Go-eun’s Seol-hee, a ringer played from a lady-in-waiting’s heart, ushers a dark inner turmoil to an otherwise prosperous Japanese regime. Many of the musical’s segments resonate in patriotic uproars more energetic in their war-like definition than anything reminiscent of mid-century Broadway.

This largely complement’s Hero while it initially paces out character introductions within the resistance with sillier odes to the delicious nature of dumplings, and how unity can come at the hands of a warm reunion over rations. Though by film’s second half, political record overwhelms Yoon’s balance, tone and historical relevance wrying Ahn’s every action into plot-driven forcefulness.

The brutality of the circumstance is hard to overlook, especially for a picture that opens with sacrificial appendage-severing amid a musically-snowbound group pledge. Romance, comedy, drama and heart-struck drumbeats deal out with synchronicity, levity like a forward-marching parade navigating the plot’s inevitable coup d’etat direction by intoxicating overcompensation into emotional suffering.

At least Hero cannot speak to be too uninteresting or slow for such a direct-to-nationalism Korean anniversary effort. Imperialism portrayed as undercover scheme-brokering alongside musical courtroom trial pleas is not necessarily something that can be easily indulged from a one-off Netflix selection. Such consistency in the film’s thespian roots unfortunately cannot hold cohesively to a country wanting to invoke and demand so much of its theatrical devotees.

Seen at CGV Cinemas LA

Writing with Fire Image

If you’re looking for an inspirational documentary that follows a group of trailblazing women in India, consider Writing with Fire. It follows a group of Dalit women – Dalits being the lowest caste in the Indian caste system – that start a newspaper in Uttar Pradesh, one of India’s largest and most politically important states. The newspaper, Khabar Lahariya, stands out from the others both because it’s written only by women and because of its emphasis to seek out the truth no matter what.

It starts with one of the paper’s lead journalists reporting on a local rape case. In it, we witness their reporting process. Meera first interviews the victim’s family for first hand info, then heads to the police station to press them further on the crime, before beginning to form a report. We see this process a few times throughout the film as they interview politicians, Dalit women without sewage systems that the government has promised, and worker’s strikes. Because of the topics they shine a light on and their determination to find answers, they face a lot of trouble.

This is clear when the reporters are out in the field. One reporter has to confront one union leader who at first refuses to talk with her because she’s a woman. Another reporter covering the upcoming elections has to banter with the male politicians just to try and get comments from them. It’s clear that being patronized is a part of their day job in the patriarchal society. However, they also have to put up with it at home from husbands that berate their independent working spirit.

It’s not just the patriarchy that is framed as dangerous to the reporters as the rising Hindu nationalism within India is posed as a threat too. One example is the young member of some kind of Hindu Youth League that patrols his neighborhood armed with a machete to fight crime. His role feels a lot like the Hitler Youth from Nazi Germany. He doesn’t appear to have much direction apart from his hatred of Muslims. The rhetoric of the local politicians are equally alarming, with the directors pointing out the new state leaders remarks that Islam is intrinsically linked with Terrorism. It feels like that the freedom of Khabar Lahariya and its female journalists are threatened by the continued rise of the male dominated BJP Hindu political party.

Lastly, it’s quite interesting to see exactly how a start-up newspaper is run. In addition to seeing how they gather a story from outside, we get to see how the newspaper is run at the office. We see their daily meetings – including one where one reporter gets disciplined for a low output – and hear about their growth strategies. Currently, they’re all embracing the switch to the growing digital reality by equipping all their reporters with camera phones and giving them lessons about YouTube. As the film runs, these YouTube clips are inserted into the narrative as milestones for their growth as their subscribers rocket to a few thousand after a few weeks work.

Whilst it’s probably a bit longer than it needs to be, Writing with Fire is well worth a watch for anyone interested in learning about inspirational women battling the patriarchy around the world. If anything, you’ll learn a bit about the current state of India and running a newspaper.

By Sebastian Torrelio

Waltair Veeraayya

It is perhaps not the most original sentiment in the world to declare a Telugu blockbuster interesting for subverting its tone, audience & subject, yet Waltair Veerayya, the newest from Bobby Kolli, has a blast doing so in spades. Waltair (Chiranjeevi) is a smuggler, often apparently a fisherman, hired by state police to extradite Solomon Caesar (Bobby Simha), a drug kingpin wanted for the murder of a slew of local authorities. Waltair hunts Solomon using his veritible tricks of the trade library – including such tactics as, disguising oneself in the villain’s hotel, wearing extremely noticeable attire, and bumbling around an airport with the crew.

The trailer for Waltair Veerayya, which gives some semblance of how this concept is supposed to come across, is a never-ending barrage of action shots in various settings with our lead placed squarely in the middle, as if kicking his enemies off the barriers of the screen for nearly three hours. What the trailer doesn’t reveal is how disorienting Kolli keeps his layered gang novela: the initial sequence of Solomon’s entrance promises a brutal story of “the beast hunter” meeting his prey. What follows could not be more mistakable for a common Telugu comedy, our lead a scruffy, drunken weirdo making every inconceivably silly intention a happy accident for the trueness of law enforcement.

At its best, Chiranjeevi—an actor no stranger to notoriously strange cinematic environments, but digging himself well into a charismatically aged humor here—leads an ensemble that comes across as tried and practiced with the sort of genre-mixed kerfuffle Kolli wants to embrace. The baffling whiplash from playing pants-down-level punchlines smoothly into serious, spotlight-coordinated corruption busting should be a lot more strained than this, and Waltair Veerayya‘s first half might as well feel part miracle for not allowing the actors to fall into tonal abyss.

Post-intermission leaves a lot to be desired, a commonplace travel back in time to the roots of Waltair’s true enemy, and true origins, that rides action de résistance far more than the wholesomely juggled first half. Where boring plot characters are interjected for sustenance, an entirely jarring final minutes at least makes up for what Kolli seems to be going for – memorable accountability, in spite of wanting so earnestly to play out the class clown role for himself.

Seen at Cinemark 18 & XD, Los Angeles

The Endless Cycle

Last year at the start of the pandemic, discrimination against African immigrants in the Chinese city of Guangzhou hit the international news circuit. A McDonalds branch refused to serve Black people in the city, there were reports of Black students being evicted from their accommodations, and there were reports of a Nigerian man attacking a Chinese nurse. It’s within this context that The Endless Cycle is set, featuring a Ghanaian immigrant in Guangzhou. The opening scene addresses the tension straight away with the protagonist watching the Chinese news report on the Nigerian man that attacked a Chinese nurse.

The Endless Cycle feels like a documentary in the way that we follow the main character’s everyday life. It features the monotonous tasks in his routine, such as cycling from place to place, Face-Timing friends and relatives, and working at the office. There’s not much dialogue either to make it feel more like a drama. In his routine, we get a glimpse into life in COVID era China where temperature checks and QR code tracking are just part of the new paradigm. It looks more normal than quarantine life elsewhere in the world, making it interesting to see for the American viewer.

However, the documentary style is a bit misleading as there are some scenes which are obviously dramatized, such as the scenes between the main character and his boss’ kid at work. The dialogue in these scenes feels more forced and unnatural. The most obvious example of this is the Taxi Driver scene which ends in him fighting a taxi driver in the road. What is probably meant to highlight the prejudice against Black people in China (with the taxi driver’s avoiding him) ends up supporting ignorant stereotypes of Black male aggression and thereby ruining the otherwise interesting portrayal of the Black experience in China. It also damages the credibility of other scenes that we may have otherwise trusted. Because of the obvious dramatization in certain scenes, it feels like this is probably more of a Chinese perspective of the Black experience in China.

Therefore if you’re looking for a film which shows a Chinese perspective of the Black experience in China, The Endless Cycle is worth a watch. However, if you’re looking for a movie about the Black experience in China told by a Black person, The African Who Wanted to Fly might be the closest you can get.


Check our Pan African Film Festival 2021 page for more reviews coming out of the 29th edition of the festival.