C1 Originals Reviews: ‘Tia Madre’ and ‘Lucid’

JANA Agoncillo (left) as Camille, Cherie Gil’s daughter in the film.

You’ve probably seen the trailer for this. Obviously, it’s a horror film. And, obviously, if your idea of entertainment is to get your heart racing with fear and excitement and then bask in the euphoria of relief at the end of every terrifying scene, then you’d naturally be compelled to pick Tia Madre among the eight films in competition at the ongoing Cinema One Originals Film Festival.

Bad news for you. This is no horror film. It’s an experimental tribute to Cherie Gil — and a sad representation of albinos.

But let’s go back to the formidable Gil. Director Eve Baswel pours all her love on the actress, as this film primarily serves as a montage of a Cherie Gil idolatry/acting masterclass. Sit back and observe Gil sleep, drink alcohol, take a drag of her cigarette, have sex, take a slow shower, tear her clothes in grief and verbally, emotionally and physically abuse her young daughter, Camille (Jana Agoncillo).

The “horror story” takes us to a remote province steeped in legends of local mythical creatures (dwende, engkanto, etc.), where a bright-eyed grade-schooler and her cold-hearted madre relocate for some reason. They unpack what few things they’ve brought in Madre’s old and creaky family ancestral home.

“TIA Madre” serves as an experimental tribute to the formidable actress Cherie Gil.

No ghosts or monsters in the house. The real monster is the mother. She’s a selfish, alcoholic, broken woman with zero interest in motherhood. As always, Gil is a compelling presence; intimidating and fascinating in her semi-bushy hair and piercing eyes. And with her harsh treatment towards Camille, you experience an urge to call the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD).

Perhaps what Baswel intends in her film is the very real horror of a toxic and abusive mother-daughter relationship. Or a portrait of a mother repulsed by her young — who may or may not be suffering from some form of child psychosis.

You feel sorry for Camille, who probably cannot fathom the concept of a cruel mother and therefore seeks a supernatural explanation for her abuse. The poor child is beset with hallucinations. Or maybe not. She’s also inconsistent: in her heavy, poorly read Filipino narration, she refers to the madre as nanay, but in real life, she calls her Mama. And who is Tia? Angel Aquino?

But, no. The film’s intention is straight-up horror. Because otherwise, why pound every inch of the film with horror sound effects? Why tease us with an albino who, startlingly, has a Band-Aid always ready in his shirt pocket?

Overall, despite the nifty special effects, neat cinematography and editing (and a committed Gil), Tia Madre is ultimately incoherent and un-scary. Infused with messy elements and a weird voice-over narration by Camille who struggles to read the words straight, pronouncing 90 percent of the Filipino words incorrectly (intentional, or perhaps irresponsible due to production time constraints), it’s a senseless experimental waste of time.

JM de Guzman and Alessandra de Rossi are both lucid dreamers in this film by Villanueva.

Now, this is what you’d call real horror. Lucid paints a very realistic depiction of clinical depression. The trailer is misleading — because this is a serious film on mental health and not a romantic-fantasy drama.

If you’re suffering from depression, this may not be suitable for you, as it will make you even more down than you already are, unless you are interested in diagnosing yourself or seeking to understand this mental health disability.

Victor Villanueva’s Lucid is a profound examination of major depressive disorder (MDD) sprinkled with a little bit of fantasy. Annika (Alessandra de Rossi) is an undiagnosed depressive woman who lives alone with her aunt.

She’s also a lucid dreamer, which means she is aware when she’s dreaming and has control over the story of her dreams. In real life, there are lucid dreamers, but the film adds a little bit of magic when another lucid dreamer (JM de Guzman) enters Annika’s dreams and interacts with her.

De Rossi, makeup-free in her conscious moments and dressed like a Kamiseta endorser in her dreams, is superb in her role as the severely depressed and single Annika. Her face is etched with abysmal loneliness that is difficult to watch. This is perhaps De Rossi’s best work to date, as her depression is hyperrealistic.

Villanueva, known for the hit comedy Patay Na Si Hesus, effectively cocoons the audience in Annika’s depression. We are immersed in her joyless routine; the zombie-commute every day to her government office and only finding escape in fantasies of romance in the form of local pocketbooks, Tagalog movies and lucid dreams.

Screenplay by Natts Jadaone, Lucid understands what depression truly is in the most medically accurate way. It effectively covers Annika with a thick veil of despair, isolation and depersonalization, and you experience her external world as distant and detached.

De Guzman’s role as a romantic prospect in the realm of lucid dreaming is only secondary to Annika’s bleak and dark tale. Without being preachy, the film shatters the myth that depression can be cured by a positive mindset — or a love life.

Annika’s workmate, an IT guy, who figures late into the film, offers a bit of comic relief, and is actually a strong element in emphasizing the crippling effects of depression.

Lucid is commendable for its mental health commentary with its strong understanding of the material. But if you suffer from MDD, be warned, as this might be a trigger for you. For such an important and timely theme, the trailer and synopsis, though, should have mentioned that it’s about depression — no sense in concealing it, and even a bit irresponsible to do so.

Tia Madre and Lucid are showing in select cinemas until 17 November as part of the main competition section of the Cinema One Originals Film Festival.