The Way we make movies

The local film industry is presently in a sluggish state. Hopefully, this is only temporary. It seems that our local movies are a casualty in the competition posed by the free entry of foreign films into the country. Worse, the few local films that come out every now and then can hardly be called films, although "trash" is a rather harsh word to describe them. If the present situation does not improve, if we cannot get out of this downward spiral quickly enough, the local movie industry will soon find itself at the bottom of a dark pit and be no more.

Our deficiency is not in skills but in perspective. I have worked with several foreign film-production groups and, recently, in a Hollywood-type film school and, I say, they're no better than us. Not a bit better. They have their own peculiar ways which they're good at, but we have our own too. Whereas, if you consider that some of our local filmmakers occasionally come up with quality outputs with only resourcefulness and creativity to compensate the meager resources available, then we would actually turn out much better.

Making movies is both arts and science. Ordinarily, what the public sees is the art part of movies; to them, it's all that movies are about. But movies are a lot more than what we ultimately see on the screen. Well, in particular, it is business too. A film does not come into being overnight, or in a few days. It goes through a tedious day-to-day process that takes quite sometime to complete. The producer (the person responsible for putting the production together, not necessarily the financier) keeps close watch of his project's progress, to see what direction it is heading for. He religiously views and evaluates the "dailies" or "rushes" (rough prints of the daily shoots) and makes sure the investment is well protected. Even before actual production begins, the producer picks the right material from a pile of many others. He studies it and weighs its box-office potential, and then employs the right people to work on it. So, the business of making movies is not simply a wild risk-taking.

But why do some movies flop? Why does a producer, after having viewed some crap dailies, on which some 5 million pesos must have already been spent, decide to sink in another 5 million or so for more footage of something that seems headed for doom? The answer is the usual businessman's argument. He has already spent good money; therefore, he should salvage that by spending more. Finishing the movie is more likely to bring him back his investment than letting rolls and rolls of unfinished film gather molds in his bodega. Maybe the storyline is good and the dailies aren't too bad at all, in his opinion. They could be repaired, rehashed, reshaped.

So the shoots go on, and the investment shoots up accordingly. As soon as he has spent 12 million of a 20 million budget, the producer or financier, or the two of them together (if they're not one and same person), has now reached a point of no return. From then on, by hook or by crook, the movie must be completed. He would consult some industry people, often ones that have vested interests in the production's continuance (scriptwriters, directors, cinematographers, talent managers and the rest). They would tell him, sometimes honestly but oftentimes not, that the film lacks something-some scenes that the viewing public will go for. The producer orders either a re-shoot of some scenes or the addition of new ones: more violence, more nudity. He'll worry about the censors later. Then the new footage is inserted in, at the cost of another million or so depending on the nature of the scenes. Now, the movie is done.

Procedures vary from company to company, but the basics are generally the same. Business interests rule. Seldom during the entire production is the film's contribution to fundamental human values taken up. The issue may have cropped up during the initial story conferences, but were immediately choked by business goals. Onwards, the only thing that matters is profit or, simply, how to recoup the investment.

We already have access to modern technology for a more effective-and yet relatively more economical and convenient-way of making movies, with more spectacular optical effects. However, this advantage has not really been put to good use, overall. Many of our films, especially the fantasy genre, are too rich in optical perks and too poor on substance, that they simply resemble a demo reel of some special-effects gadget. Even the few local films that have sensible storylines are mostly mere copycats of blockbuster foreign films. It's obvious that the old ways no longer works. But, still, local film producers are reluctant to make a change. Change can make you lose your shirt. We understand that.

Yet without change, you stagnate-and stagnation can lead to decay. Change, for its part, is risky; there's no assurance that new ways are better. But there's no other way to test whether something works except to try it. In the end, the only person to say which one looks like the better course to take is the one who owns the money. And it looks like that person is eternally on a wait-and-see stand.

Some new filmmakers attempt to change the way we make movies. These young and idealistic few assert that change is necessary in order to survive the increasing dominance of foreign films in the country. There have been courageous endeavors by them to find a meeting point between the shrewdness of the mind and the goodness of the heart, between the appetite for profit and a sense of mission. However, their efforts have been too feeble, as yet, to influence the general situation. As a result, our movies remain they way they have always been. Little change. The same plots. Generally the same attitudes. The same goals. The same movies over and over again. And the Filipino movie industry continues to slide into who-knows-where.