For its opening night on 8 November, QCinema showcased a set of four short films at the sterile, cold Gateway 2 Cineplex (honestly, the secluded, brightly lit venue depresses me).

This omnibus film was from Directors’ Factory 2024, a program under the Directors’ Fortnight (Quinzaine des Réalisateurs) — an independent sidebar associated with the Cannes Film Festival.

Running alongside Cannes, Directors’ Fortnight is a non-competition section and highlights experimental films, the kind that reinvents traditional cinema. Its project, Directors’ Factory, mentors eight young and emerging filmmakers to direct in pairs, resulting in four short films.

Filipino filmmakers

In this year’s Cannes, the Factory turned its spotlight on the Philippines, selecting four breakthrough Filipino filmmakers with distinct styles: Don Josephus Raphael Eblahan, Arvin Belarmino, Maria Estela Paiso and Eve Baswel. These Filipino filmmakers were partnered with other Southeast Asian directors to create short films set in the Philippines (this year, all were shot in Dapitan City, where José Rizal was exiled) and featuring Filipino actors.

True to the Factory’s championing of radical styles, these four shorts are not your typical fare — they lean toward the artistic and avant-garde.

‘Cold Cut’

Eblahan partnered with Singapore’s Tan Siyou to tell the story of a young woman, Joy, waiting to audition for a talent show in coastal Dapitan. While in line, a man rudely slams into her and walks away without apologizing. Something similar happened to me at the mall recently, though not as aggressively. Super annoying.

We all know the feeling — that irritation with boundary-crossing strangers who, if you let them, can ruin your day. Joy, after being rudely bumped, can’t shake off the offense, allowing the unpleasantness to consume her peace of mind.

The filmmakers describe the man as “a mysterious butcher who takes her to new horizons.” The film, in my own interpretation, shows an obsessive, all-consuming anger that seems to release pent-up frustration from a lifetime of slights. Joy channels this energy into interpretive dance.

The film stages a wordless confrontation through dance, using Joy’s expressions and movement to express her demand for apology, for closure. Yet the butcher, unapologetically defiant, doesn’t relent. Her anger lingers long after, like an itch you can’t scratch, causing her to miss the audition. It’s a sharp reminder: letting jerks disrupt your peace of mind can come at a cost.

‘Silig’

Belarmino worked with Cambodia’s Lomorpich Rithy on a more traditional narrative approach. This is the most accessible of the set, using humor to tell the story of a middle-aged woman (Sylvia Sanchez) determined to be cremated after she dies.

Sanchez’s character, out running errands for her “dying agenda,” runs into her ex-lover (Angel Aquino). The actresses’ rapport is delightful, drawing chuckles throughout. But beneath the humor lies a nearly philosophical musing on death.

The dialogue is impactful, using humor precisely to reframe death as no more dramatic than a graduation day or filling out government paperwork. It’s just death, inevitable for us all. What makes your dying day special?

The day unfolds unexpectedly, with amusing side trips to leisure spots that contrast with the existential dread of planning one’s death.

The disease that burdens this woman, as she attends to her final business with declining health, is portrayed less as a tragedy and more as a nuisance. The ending cleverly ties back into the film’s title “Silig,” which means sea dirt.

‘Nightbirds’

Paiso collaborated with India’s Ashok Vish, blending both countries’ mythological connections. The story centers on the Tagalog belief in the mystical, omen-bringing Tigmamanukan bird.

With CGI-created cartoon bird heads, the story closely follows the ancient folklore: the bird crosses someone’s path, foretelling good or bad fortune. Here, the protagonist is a sad woman, played by Pokwang, married to an unlucky cockfighter.

This folklore runs parallel with the concept of gambling, where outcomes are equally uncertain. Since ancient beliefs like these aren’t as ingrained in modern daily life, the film uses educational slides to explain the mythology, which slightly slows the pacing.

‘Walay Balay’

Baswel joined forces with Malaysia’s Gogularaajan Rajendran to craft a striking black-and-white tale of a mother and daughter (Ruby Ruiz and Shaina Magdayao) displaced during the Marawi conflict.

There’s no place like home, but when home becomes a war zone, it causes deep despair. Although they are safe in a nearby town, there’s a strong attachment to the home they had — now a place of fear.

The filmmakers exercise restraint, capturing both the longing and fear that accompany displacement. Through beautifully expressive shots, they reveal the pain of being untethered, of drifting in a foreign place that doesn’t feel like home.

QCinema runs until 17 November, with 77 films available across four venues: Gateway 2, Shangri-La, TriNoma and Powerplant.