Bad to the bone

Noel Vera

Looking over the list of films I've seen this year, more than a few have
been distinctly substandard: Maryo delos Reyes' misconceived "Red Diaries;"
John Landis' pointlessly nasty "Susan's Plan;" Mr. Madonna's (I mean, Guy
Richie's) loud and repetitive "Snatch;" Baz Lurhmann's overedited,
underwritten "Moulin Rouge;" Yam Llaranas' unintentionally funny "Radyo"
(Radio); Joey Romero's even funnier "Sisid" (Dive); Yam Llaranas' (yes, he
appears twice on my list) hilarious "Balahibong Pusa" (Pussy Hairs); and
Michael Bay's tremendously stupid "Pearl Harbor." I've heard from some
quarters that 2001 was a bad year for movies; poring over the evidence, I
can't help but agree.

Then I saw Erik Matti's "Dos Ekis," and realized: I have yet to know the
full meaning of the word 'bad.'

"Dos Ekis" stars sex kitten-of-the-moment Rica Peralejo and comebacking
young actor Mark Anthony Fernandez; she's a nightclub dancer, he's her
biggest fan. He sits at the foremost table, watching her do some uninspired
grinding to really loud music; when he goes home, it's to the back of a
movie theater, where some ad hoc dwellings have been set up. Fernandez' pad
is a split-level affair, the lower level shared by a man and his sexy wife
(Raven Villanueva), while Fernandez's level is filled with picturesque junk
surrounding an elegantly lit mosquito net; for a rear wall they have the
theater screen itself, and in the evenings you can watch Filipino movies for
free. Perfect to live in, and perfectly pretentious--just the kind of place
arty soft-core porn directors love to shoot in, for some trendy urban
"grime."

(It's an unlikely situation anyway, the psychology is all wrong--married
couples don't share lofts with perfect strangers unless they're at least
passing acquaintances, and they definitely don't make love without the
husband looking over his shoulders to check if his neighbor's peeking)

As I was saying--Fernandez goes home, and right away Villanueva, whose
husband can't find a job, walks over to Fernandez and gives him peek up her
nightgown, pleading for him to take her away. Fernandez won't have any of
it (more wrongheaded psychology right there--Villanueva is hot, hotter than
the picture's putative star): he's saving himself for the dancer of his
dreams.

So he goes to Peralejo's latest show, an elaborate affair involving
Peralejo, a checkered bathtub, a showerhead-cum-spotlight, and a raised
bedsheet. Not bad, except Matti doesn't know when to leave well enough
alone and fills the screen with a dozen flashing strobelights (To cause
excruciating migraines? Induce grand mal seizures?).

Fernandez goes backstage to express his awe of Peralejo's terpsichorean
talents (love is so blind). Enter the nightclub manager (John Arcilla) and
his goons. Arcilla pushes Fernandez around; Fernandez fights back
and--somehow--manages to beat off the goons. Arcilla pulls out a gun,
Fernandez grabs it; you can tell Matti can't stage a fight scene to save his
life because the two pad around as if they're doing the polka, shooting
everything in sight except each other. Fernandez runs, gun and Peralejo in
tow; before leaving, Peralejo hooks a bag Arcilla was carrying with him.

From a story of obsessed love the picture shifts gears to the classic tale
of two lovers running from a crime ring. Peralejo happens to have picked up
the sixty-plus thousand pesos in cash Arcilla was delivering to his own
boss, Dido. The smart thing for Peraleja to do at this point is to forget
her friends, forget her apartment, forget everything and just run out of
town.

But this is an Erik Matti film and the smart thing to do is the last thing
anyone does--Peralejo goes with Fernandez back to his loft and they make
slow, soft-core love with a film screening behind them and Villanueva
peeking (Fernandez doesn't even bother introducing the two). Afterwards,
Peraleja still doesn't wise up; she goes back to her apartment, leaves the
money in her room, and makes it a point to tell everyone, including her
landlady, not to go inside--the upshot of which, of course, is that the
moment she leaves, said landlady enters and finds the money.

Peraleja goes back to Fernandez's loft where--finally--Arcilla and his goons
are waiting. Matti takes special pains to trace Arcilla's progress: he has
Arcilla first find Fernandez's clutch bag (which Fernandez had conveniently
left at the club), look inside to find his identification card at work, go
to Fernandez's workplace and kill everyone there, then proceed to said loft.
Of course, going straight to Peralejo's apartment--which he would
naturally have known, being her employer--never occurred to Arcilla; that
would have been too easy, made the movie shorter and more sensible.

Arcilla asks Peralejo where the money meant for Dido is, then sadistically
(not that she doesn't deserve it) beats her up. After the severe pounding
Peralejo pulls out the gun Fernandez stole, blows away Arcilla's goons, then
beats Arcilla to death with it. Fernandez shows up; so does Villanueva,
who's been lurking around the loft all this time (Arcilla, of course, never
even noticed her--it's as if Matti and his characters were chess players
capable of thinking only half a move ahead).

Fernandez and Peraleja go back to her apartment to learn that her landlady
had (naturally) taken Peraleja's money and paid off her debts. Peraleja and
Fernandez decide to go to her landlady's debtors and--without even taking
Fernandez's gun with them--ask them to hand the money back.

They say no (of course). Peraleja insists. They (naturally) start beating
Fernandez up. Peraleja pulls a gun out of some goon's belt
and--again--kills everyone in sight (She's the classic example of what Mark
Twain complained about in James Fenimore Cooper's novels--dumb as an ox, but
put a gun anywhere near her and Matti will make sure that she finds it).
With everyone dead, the money is never found?which, incidentally, is the
only detail in the entire godforsaken movie I found even remotely
convincing.

The film again shifts gears; now it's two lovers on a killing spree, hunted
by the police. Fernandez brings Peralejo to the docks, where he buys two
tickets to the nearest boat out. Peralejo refuses to go with him; Dido,
Arcilla's boss, will want his money back and will target her family and
loved ones to get it (you want to ask why she only thought of them now). Out
of love for her Fernandez makes her promise to stay put at the departure
area (smart move: that's the first place the police will--and in fact
do--look for her), and goes to face Dido himself.

I could barely manage to stay put myself--I was nodding off when I wasn't
howling at the film--then Matti plays his one and only trump card: Dido is
played by none other than Celso Ad. Castillo, "The Celso Kid," one of the
great filmmakers of Philippine cinema ("Burlesk Queen," "Ang Alamat Ni
Julian Makabayan" (The Legend of Julian Makabayan), "Pagputi ng Uwak,
Pag-itim ng Tagak" (When the Crow Turns White, When The Heron Turns Black)).
Matti gives Ad. Castillo center stage and Ad. Castillo runs with
it--creates a villain of gravity and scale out of literally nothing, just a
few minutes of screen time and a handful of campy lines. I was literally
knocked out of my stupor--this was good stuff!

And as with all good stuff it quickly and prematurely came to an end. All
that's left is Matti's exercise in noirish masturbation, which after seeing
Chito Rono's pretty good "La Vida Rosa" (The Life of Rosa) only some weeks
before made my distaste for this picture all the keener. Not to mention the
classic examples of Philippine noir--Lino Brocka's "Jaguar;" Mario O'Hara's
"Condemned" and "Bagong Hari" (The New King)-- which, incidentally, also
features a fine performance by The Celso Kid as a Joseph Estrada-like
politician. Compared to these pictures--particularly the great "Bagong
Hari," with its near-epic vision of Manila as one of the lower circles of
hell--"Dos Ekis" is like something someone left behind in a toilet bowl and
didn't bother to flush.

(Comments? Email me at noelbotevera@...)




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