If there is one film in recent Philippine cinema that aptly portrays the severe realities of the life of the impoverished, then it’s Iska.

Ruby Ruiz plays the titular Iska, a loving, patient grandmother to a 10-year-old with autism, Dongdong (Jonic Magno).

The movie opens with Iska dressing up Dongdong, struggling to put a white sleeveless undershirt on the boy. Director Theodore Boborol (Star Cinema’s Just the Way You Are, Finally Found Someone) films the entire and exhausting lengthy action until Iska succeeds in dressing up the boy. This instantly establishes Iska’s extraordinary patience, which can only come from genuine love.

The hyperrealistic film observes how Iska balances household chores, taking care of Dongdong and working as a Xerox machine operator in UP Diliman and as an occasional house cleaner in a professor’s (Ricky Rivero) house. But at the heart of the film is Iska as a grandmother and her unconditional love for her grandson, who she is raising practically all by herself. A child that cannot even return her affections, who is cocooned in his own world and shatters the air with his ear-piercing tantrums and expressions of mirth.

THE film makes a powerful statement on the harsh realities of life.

What gets in between Iska’s caregiving to her only source of joy, Dongdong, are a number of things: extreme poverty, a useless womanizer for a husband (Soliman Cruz), a cruel society, a selfish daughter, and her own mortality. This is rather painful to watch, as Iska, a hard-working woman, is imprisoned by circumstances of which she has no control.

The story is inspired by Boborol’s house cleaner and this is perhaps why the director’s first foray into independent cinema is one sincere, authentic oeuvre. He is a master in directing naturalistic performances — there is not a single actor in this film that feels like they’re acting. And this heightens the organic feel of the movie, catapulting the viewer into Iska’s problems and connecting you to her many burdens.

The script is flawless, the dialogue convincing and conversational. High tension always develops when Iska and her husband, who she calls Asungot, get into their many domestic fights. How Iska becomes protective and defensive of Dongdong, and how Asungot essays the spiteful character of a womanizer with no patience for his own grandson, are incredibly convincing.

Ruiz’s first-rate performance gave her the Cinemalaya Best Actress award last Sunday. The role is a difficult one, but the actress is effortless — whether she’s pensive or vocal, she expresses an incredible range of nuanced emotions.

Another memorable and delightful performance comes from Angie Castrence as Iska’s friend and neighbor and occasional babysitter to Dongdong. Castrence, like Ruiz, does not seem as if she’s performing from a script; remarkably naturalistic, with an expressive face that complements her character’s ebullient personality.

Iska is neither exploitative of the poor nor it is poverty porn; instead, it’s a razor-sharp commentary on harsh realities of the human condition, especially the unfortunate souls, and the country’s social ills. Boborol’s screenplay (which bagged the Best Screenplay award) and direction are precise, with excellent attention to details. He knows his material by heart and lenses the film with inspired and passionate desire to give voice to the Iskas of this country. However, there’s too much UP pride going on, like an obsessive homage to the national university.

When tragedy befalls Iska, it is difficult to bear. And when the ending arrives, it is dark and shocking, reminiscent of an unforgettable and familiar news report. It’s startling for its perspective. It’s the kind of resolution that traps the audience. The inhumane conclusion sends you reeling with thoughts about alternative ways that Iska should have solved the problem.

Iska, exceptionally directed and acted (it also took home an award for Best Sound), is emotionally distressing and too dark to earn a repeat watch. However, it makes a rather powerful statement and is memorable for its adroit filmmaking and searing portrait of our disadvantaged countrymen.