REVIEW: ‘Moro,’ a tedious and lugubrious simulation

Brillante Mendoza, ever since his 2022’s Bahay na Pula (starring Julia Barretto and Xian Lim), has been shifting away from his usual style.

From his cinema verité, shaky-cam, nitty-gritty and hyper-realistic treatment that lent rawness and authenticity to masterpieces like Ma’Rosa and Kinatay, he switched to stable camera movements.

With Mendoza’s penchant for magical realism, as witnessed in Sapi (2013), he seems to have permanently adopted a new visual language. This includes dream sequences, premonitions, foreshadowing, symbols and plenty of moody nature shots.

In his 2023 Busan drama Moro, now streaming on Netflix, the auteur also employed a good deal of slow-motion, with his camera remaining steady.

This creative decision to move away from his docu-like treatment and present a “normal-looking film,” albeit artsy and slow-burn, does not bode well with a thin script meant for a fly-on-the-wall experience.

Moro is set in Maguindanao and follows a Muslim mother, Mangindra (Laurice Guillen), who is perpetually distressed by her fighting sons, Jasim (Piolo Pascual) and Abdel (Baron Geisler). Driven by a prophetic dream of her dead husband (Christopher de Leon), she tries to resolve the two men’s conflict. But a bigger conflict arises when the Special Action Force (SAF) of the Philippine National Police arrives, leading to the fact-based Mamasapano clash.

Mendoza and screenwriter Honeylyn Joy Alipio aimed to take the viewers through the perspective of the Maguindanaoans during the clash — specifically Mangindra’s family. However, it is difficult to sympathize with the family as they are one-note characters who speak forced, unnatural Maguindanaoan.

The film is scarcely plotted with broad-stroke storytelling, which deprives the audience of an intimate relationship with the characters and unfolding events.

Clearly, Jasim and Abdel’s hostility towards one another stems deeper than mere land titles. But, again, Mendoza’s attempt to put the audience as an onlooker, with events and interactions crafted as if they are “naturally unfolding,” does not work with a stylish and nonlinear treatment. This limits the audience’s emotional experience of the story’s themes and commentaries.

The action-drama is star-studded, with Joel Torre, Rolando Inocencio, the late Dido dela Paz, and more, peppering the scenes — but they are all cardboard characters. The Netflix version, too, has garish color grading, similar to the previous Coco Martin-starrer Pula, which further detaches us from the “unfolding drama.”

The gun-fighting feels frustratingly artificial. The movements of nonprofessional actors in their costumes — both the SAF members and Muslims — are stiff and self-conscious.

Lacking in believable warfare maneuvers and tactics, the shootout feels like a mock-up. Not even the sight of littered limbs and body parts can inspire shock. Not even the “Allahu Akbar” relentlessly recited every time the Muslims fire their ammos can mask the “pretend play” that is going on.

Apart from the disturbing scene of illegal horse-fighting in the earlier parts of the film, and the committed performances from Guillen and Pascual, Moro is tedious and lugubrious. While there is some beauty in the cornfields, mountain vistas, rivers and costumes, nothing emotionally connects. It’s more like a crude simulation rather than immersive cinema.

1 out of 5 stars