Andrew A. Paredes, Manila Times, 1997

FRAILTY, THY NAME IS BABAE

By now, La Aunor's stature in the industry is akin to that of a sacred cow, no director dares touch her, eventhough her body of work has become dangerously frail and insubstantial of late. Thankfully, director Lupita Kashiwahara does dare, and evokes from Nora one of her most robust---and histrionics-free---performances.

Nora plays Bea, an architect who is constantly belittled by her less successful husband Ricky (Mark Gil). She has a daughter, Alex (Judy Ann Santos) from a previous indescretion with a homosexual friend. She is in turn, physically abused by her disturbed boyfriend (Jao Mapa). Through both mother and daughter's travails, kindly matriarch Inang (Nida Blanca, in an enjoyably emphatic turn) provides sage advice, even as she grapples with the pain and loneliness brought on by her husband's (Luis Gonzales) death.

A promising premise, if only director Kashiwahara weren't so heavy- handed with the "woman-shall-prevail" earnestness of the whole enterprise. With every snide remark that Mark Gil throws Nora's way, with every punch Jao delivers to Judy Ann's more than ample belly, she is likewise abusing her audience, battering us over the head with the message "Get it? Get it? See what women have to deal with?"

In the world of "Babae," there are really no women or men or people--- there are only heroines and villains. All the men (save for the homosexual couple who serve as Judy Ann's second family, and Luis Gonzales' character, who is killed off early) are portrayed as irredeemable heels. They are cardboard cut-outs to serve as foils for the lead actresses' emoting, never given an opportunity to show that they may have their own struggles to grapple with (like changing gender roles in Mark's case, or fragmented family like in Jao's, which is given a hint to explain his extreme behavior). The end result is that, despite admirable efforts from Nora and Judy Ann, they are left with no characters to interact with, and hence, no way to plumb the depths of their own portrayals.

Even the homosexual partners, who were purportedly included as a statement that "deviant" unions can produce normal relationships, come off as stilted and caricaturish. They engage in mock-macho posturings in a department store or break into an instantaneous song, but even though the actors exercise restraint and subtlety, they don't seem to have a grasp of the whole homosexual relationship dynamic. There are no genuine displays of affection, no comfortable shorthand that long-time couples share, only sighs when one partner leaves to take a job abroad. In the end, instead of coming off as portraits in courage, they are nothing more than vague, insincere embarrassments.

As proof that the film never rises above its melodramatic origins, the climax revolves around Judy Ann running off with off-kilter Jao and Nora desperately trying to find her. Nora enlists the help of Judy Ann's gay father, who then asks, "Saan natin sila hahanapin?" At which point, they chance upon Judy Ann on the road, running from Jao's attempt at rape. Why not have Nora calling Judy Ann's friends and scouting her daughter's usual hangouts one by one? Why not rely on logic instead of an obvious contrivance?

Perhaps director Kashiwahara was too preoccupied with Nora's regrettable penchant for acting tics to pay more attention to the other characters or the plot. If you want smart comments about womanhood in the Philippines, you'll have to go back to Ishmael Bernal's wickedly observed "Working Girls," or Laurice Guillen's lyrically haunting "Salome," or Marilou Diaz-Abaya's bold and self- assured "Moral" and "Karnal." These directors instinctively knew that you cannot stop at feminism---in film, or even in art, the struggle of women should be translated into the struggle of "people." "Babae" offers us nothing original, enriching or universal. It isn't even about women---it's about cardboard characters and cliched plotlines.