Cine(not-so)malaya

There’s trouble brewing at Cinemalaya. Every year, the “Independent Film Festival” gives money to “10 fresh talents” in order to “create the film of their dreams,” and “freely interpret the Filipino experience” with “artistic integrity” — this, according to their website, www.cinemalaya.org.

But the festival this week disqualified one of its grantees for doing just that. The plug has been pulled on Emerson Reyes and his debut feature, MNL 143. The reason: “We did not like his casting,” Cinemalaya monitoring head Robbie Tan said in an interview with Pep.ph.

Now, Tan’s word is gold. He is, of course, the producer behind such Filipino classics as Itlog, Talong, Kandungan, and Patikim ng Pinya.

But can Cinemalaya really disqualify a film because of casting? What about “freedom,” “creating the film of one’s dreams,” and “artistic integrity”?

Casting

Now, as a filmmaker, I can tell you that casting is a creative endeavor. Director Milos Foreman (who made One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest), once said that choosing actors is 80 percent of his job.

Actors make or break a movie. They’re the faces people see, the main thing audiences remember, and the vessel for every story and emotion.

But actors also sell films. Their names get people to troop to the theaters and buy tickets. That’s why big movie studios control casting — Star Cinema dictates when John Lloyd Cruz appears, and it’s easier to get Hollywood to fund a movie with Brad Pitt than it is with an unknown.

But Star Cinema and Hollywood do this because they’re protecting the millions and millions they spend on a movie. They need to get their money back or they’re dead, and thousands of people lose their jobs.

Freedom

Cinemalaya, on the other hand is, “a non-stock, not-for-profit, non-government foundation.” They provide “financial grants” that barely cover the cost of production. Why then, would they interfere in Emerson Reyes’ casting?

“The basis of our interest in casting is that we want… greater audience acceptability,” writes Cinemalaya competition director Laurice Guillen in a letter to Reyes.

Audience acceptability? I think I’ve heard that before… from the organizers of the Metro Manila Film Festival.

Robbie Tan offers another explanation.

“[In Cinemalaya], the filmmakers own the film… Except that we want to have a say in how it should be done,” he tells Pep.ph.

“E, ganun naman talaga ‘pag meron kang binigay na pera, di ba? At least you have a say, di ba?” he continues.

Cognitive Dissonance

Cinemalaya calls itself “free,” but what they’re really telling their filmmakers is, “Congratulations, you get P500,000! pesos! It’s yours! You own it! But, by the way, I decide how you spend it.”

That’s freedom… if the dictionary definition of freedom were not, “the power to act as one wants without hindrance.”

Imagine if Diet Coke wasn’t really diet? Now, imagine a Cinemalaya that isn’t really malaya.

To Guillen and Tan’s mind, Cinemalaya doesn’t give grants, they give investments. And the filmmakers’ main purpose it to help them meet ther bottom line.

Philanthropy

This is a far cry from what the festival started as, and what it’s funder, philanthropist Tonyboy Cojuangco, intends it to be.

Tonyboy is a committed supporter of the arts. In addition to Cinemalaya, he backs Ballet Philippines and Tanghalang Filipino. He seldom takes credit for his contributions, and he watches all of the Cinemalaya films, taking his friends to screenings like a proud dad.

But unlike some people, he respects filmmakers. That’s why, even if Tonyboy keeps Cinemalaya running out of his own pocket, he has never asked a filmmaker to cast Gretchen Barretto.

Truth In Advertising

Now, Cinemalaya is a private company, and of course it can do what it wants with its cash. But it should perhaps be more honest about how it works.

Every year, hundreds of wide-eyed, idealistic talents come to them for help. Tell these people that the grants they’re getting aren’t grants, they’re investments — which means there are investors who have a say in their work and will take away rights for their own profit.

Tell these people that they won’t really be “malaya.” That they will have to follow the guidance of Laurice Guillen, and compromise with her along the way.

And tell them that they won’t really be making the “film of their dreams”; that they will also have to accommodate the dreams of the producer of Itlog — which are, quite possibly, nightmares.

Alternatives

Then, discerning filmmakers would consider alternatives. And there are many.

There’s the Asian Cinema Fund at the Busan International Film Festival in South Korea. They award US$ 10,000 grants, which are real grants — almost no strings attached, and no creative interference.

There’s the Hubert Bals Fund at the International Film Festival in Rotterdam, The Netherlands. They give grants of 10,000 to 30,000 euros for script development, production, and post production.

And there’s Your Film Festival, a project of YouTube, the Venice Film Festival, and Ridley Scott (director of Blade Runner). Filmmakers upload a short film to YouTube, users vote, and this September, the organizers will award US$ 500,000 to one talent so that he or she can work on a movie with Scott.

There are also fledgling local outfits that filmmakers can pitch to. My company, Epicmedia, works with a sizable budget, and is looking for projects to finance. This is in the form of an investment, of course — but we’ll be honest with you from the get-go.

Back To Basics

But to be absolutely honest, Cinemalaya has contributed — hugely, greatly, and significantly are understatements — to the development of our film industry. Last year’s edition was a banner year, with several films gaining box office success, and more films achieving creative triumphs.

Something has just gone off this year. We have the disqualified Emerson Reyes — a young filmmaker who asked Cinemalaya for guidance and was shut out — given little room to decide his own direction, and succeed or fail on his own talent.

Maybe some people need to change. They must go back to guiding filmmakers and respecting talents, even if they’re young and inexperienced.

And then, maybe Cinemalaya can keep its name — a “malaya, Independent Film Festival” — and continue gifting this country with the most compelling and original movies the world has ever seen.

Otherwise, I propose a name change: “Cinemalabo: The Festival Where We Tell You One Thing and Do Another.” 

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