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Movie Review: Bona
Isagani R. Cruz, TV Times, January 4-10, 1981, also Movie Times
There are several marvelous sequences in Lino Brocka's Bona (1980), but the
trouble is that these sequences have nothing to do with the story of the film. In
fact, the sequences in the film may be roughly classified into those unnecessary
ones which are well-done, those necessary ones which are not well-done, those
few well-done sequences which is also happens to be necessary.
Take, for example, the scenes showing Nora Aunor going to the neighborhood
faucet to get water for her idol Phillip Salvador. The scenes occur again and
again in the film, almost like commas in a long, convoluted sentence. Commas,
however, serve at least to indicate pauses in thought; the water-fetching
sequences serve merely to fill up the gaps in Brocka's imagination. One water
sequence is enough, if all Brocka wants to say is that the poor have to spend all
their time fetching water from the only running faucet in their neighborhood. The
repetition is unnecessary, particularly because the blocking, the design,
and the impact of each faucet scene are the same in all the shots. Nothing is
gained by repetition.
The best sequences in the film involve Brocka's favorite topic: the life of the
poor. In shot after shot, the life of the dispossessed is clearly delineated, from
abortion (pre-life) to infancy to adolescence to ultimate death (the funeral scene
which, by the way, is a repetition of Brocka's funeral scenes in his earlier films).
But the problem is that the life of the poor has nothing to do with the story. Aunor
will still have the same psychological problem and experience exactly the same
shock at the end if Salvador were middle-class.
It is well and good to depict the life of the poor in our country. But the story should
be about the poor. The story of Bona is about a rich man, although a rich man in
a poor man's clothes. Salvador's motivations are nouveau riche. Particularly
incredible as the action of a poor man is his penchant for being bathed by
Aunor. (The scene, in fact, appears to be an adaptation of similar scenes in
American films, with a batya replacing an American bathtub and a bucket of hot
water replacing the hot water faucet.)
When Brocka handles a sequence which is necessary to the narrative, he fails to
give it life. For example, crucial to the film is the first scene with Aunor boiling
water. Brocka puts his camera in such a position that the viewer cannot see the
pot of boiling water. Salvador, in fact, faces the table (and thus faces the
right edge of the screen), while Aunor, her back turned to him, faces the invisible
stove (and thus faces the left edge of the screen). Their turning their backs to
each other may be significant, but only for two seconds. Since the shot is
allowed by Brocka to take more than a full minute, the viewer is bored to death.
The only two sequences which are both well-done and necessary are the Raquel
Monteza sequence and the final sequence. In one sequence, Aunor fights
another woman (Raquel Monteza). The sequence begins inside the house, then
spills over to the street. In this sequence, Brocka succeeds in integrating
production design with narrative. Aunor, as she is in almost all the sequences, is
excellent here. The viewer feels her rage at the challenge to her private world.
The final sequence, where Aunor finally assaults Salvador, is excellent, although
it is, of course, in the same vein as Insiang. The typical Filipino film thrives on the
theme of revenge. Bona is no exception. When Aunor finally dumps the boiling
water on her non-feeling master, the viewer cannot help but be moved. The
sequence is effective, perhaps because the rest of the film is not.
In the end, it is Aunor's acting which saves the film. Despite the incoherent
screenplay, the erratic direction, and the irrelevant production design, the film is
gripping because Aunor is excellent. Aunor is indeed a signal phenomenon in
Philippine film. She broke the color barrier (she is not a mestiza). She
broke the marriage barrier (she is not single, nor she is she even happily
married). She broke the superstar barrier (before her, superstars were
supposed to be beautiful, but not good, actresses). She has now broken
the untouchable barrier: in Bona, she is subjected to the most degrading
physical abuses. Unlike Hilda Koronel who remained a madonna even during
the rape scene in Angela Markado. Aunor really becomes the penniless, dumb,
neurotic alalay Bona is supposed to be. Who can imagine Fernando Poe, Jr.
beaten to a pulp by nameless villains? Who can imagine Lloyd Samartino made
up to look like a vampire? In Bona, Aunor really looks like an alalay, rather than a
superstar. That is why she is, in fact, a superstar.
Isagani R. Cruz, TV Times, January 4-10, 1981, also Movie Times
There are several marvelous sequences in Lino Brocka's Bona (1980), but the
trouble is that these sequences have nothing to do with the story of the film. In
fact, the sequences in the film may be roughly classified into those unnecessary
ones which are well-done, those necessary ones which are not well-done, those
few well-done sequences which is also happens to be necessary.
Take, for example, the scenes showing Nora Aunor going to the neighborhood
faucet to get water for her idol Phillip Salvador. The scenes occur again and
again in the film, almost like commas in a long, convoluted sentence. Commas,
however, serve at least to indicate pauses in thought; the water-fetching
sequences serve merely to fill up the gaps in Brocka's imagination. One water
sequence is enough, if all Brocka wants to say is that the poor have to spend all
their time fetching water from the only running faucet in their neighborhood. The
repetition is unnecessary, particularly because the blocking, the design,
and the impact of each faucet scene are the same in all the shots. Nothing is
gained by repetition.
The best sequences in the film involve Brocka's favorite topic: the life of the
poor. In shot after shot, the life of the dispossessed is clearly delineated, from
abortion (pre-life) to infancy to adolescence to ultimate death (the funeral scene
which, by the way, is a repetition of Brocka's funeral scenes in his earlier films).
But the problem is that the life of the poor has nothing to do with the story. Aunor
will still have the same psychological problem and experience exactly the same
shock at the end if Salvador were middle-class.
It is well and good to depict the life of the poor in our country. But the story should
be about the poor. The story of Bona is about a rich man, although a rich man in
a poor man's clothes. Salvador's motivations are nouveau riche. Particularly
incredible as the action of a poor man is his penchant for being bathed by
Aunor. (The scene, in fact, appears to be an adaptation of similar scenes in
American films, with a batya replacing an American bathtub and a bucket of hot
water replacing the hot water faucet.)
When Brocka handles a sequence which is necessary to the narrative, he fails to
give it life. For example, crucial to the film is the first scene with Aunor boiling
water. Brocka puts his camera in such a position that the viewer cannot see the
pot of boiling water. Salvador, in fact, faces the table (and thus faces the
right edge of the screen), while Aunor, her back turned to him, faces the invisible
stove (and thus faces the left edge of the screen). Their turning their backs to
each other may be significant, but only for two seconds. Since the shot is
allowed by Brocka to take more than a full minute, the viewer is bored to death.
The only two sequences which are both well-done and necessary are the Raquel
Monteza sequence and the final sequence. In one sequence, Aunor fights
another woman (Raquel Monteza). The sequence begins inside the house, then
spills over to the street. In this sequence, Brocka succeeds in integrating
production design with narrative. Aunor, as she is in almost all the sequences, is
excellent here. The viewer feels her rage at the challenge to her private world.
The final sequence, where Aunor finally assaults Salvador, is excellent, although
it is, of course, in the same vein as Insiang. The typical Filipino film thrives on the
theme of revenge. Bona is no exception. When Aunor finally dumps the boiling
water on her non-feeling master, the viewer cannot help but be moved. The
sequence is effective, perhaps because the rest of the film is not.
In the end, it is Aunor's acting which saves the film. Despite the incoherent
screenplay, the erratic direction, and the irrelevant production design, the film is
gripping because Aunor is excellent. Aunor is indeed a signal phenomenon in
Philippine film. She broke the color barrier (she is not a mestiza). She
broke the marriage barrier (she is not single, nor she is she even happily
married). She broke the superstar barrier (before her, superstars were
supposed to be beautiful, but not good, actresses). She has now broken
the untouchable barrier: in Bona, she is subjected to the most degrading
physical abuses. Unlike Hilda Koronel who remained a madonna even during
the rape scene in Angela Markado. Aunor really becomes the penniless, dumb,
neurotic alalay Bona is supposed to be. Who can imagine Fernando Poe, Jr.
beaten to a pulp by nameless villains? Who can imagine Lloyd Samartino made
up to look like a vampire? In Bona, Aunor really looks like an alalay, rather than a
superstar. That is why she is, in fact, a superstar.