Bottle, gun, paint, film

This year marks the 25th anniversary of the first acknowledged Filipino digital film, “Still lives” by Jon Red a.k.a. Juan Pula, which at the time it was released in 1999 was unaware it was ushering in a whole new independent film movement.

On hindsight, many years after the hullabaloo that was the war on drugs, the 90-minute film seems more prescient than ever, indeed well ahead of its time, and puts into proper sometimes humorous perspective our wrestling with substance abuse among other demons in disguise.

On the third Friday of October, “Still lives” had a special screening at the Dengcar Theater of Mowelfund Institute, and in fact still runs on an endless loop at the Superduper Art Gallery on 11th Jamboree till the fourth week of October, alongside what is possibly the first one-man exhibit of Jon Red as painter, “Bote, baril, pintura, pelikula,” a sort of double whammy in celebration of independent cinema and painting. No holds barred, as promised, both in Dengcar and Superduper.

The thing is even if you might have watched the indie feature in its maiden run in 1999, chances are you’d appreciate it much more now as wizened, post cynical, reformed substance abuser, with its broken down narrative and stationary digital camera courtesy of fellow filmmaker Chuck Escasa, such that you can’t help but chuckle and breathe the occasional sigh of relief at having survived those wild and crazy times.

“Still lives” revolves around the goings on of a shabu pushing gang in their safehouse somewhere in the godforsaken city, led by dirty old capo a tutti Badong (the late Rey Ventura) with his beauteous moll Georgia (Ynez Veneracion), who has the occasional fling with gang underling Enteng (Nonie Buencamino), whose dialogue with friend Paul (Alan Paule) opens the film and frames it rightfully comparing sex with coffee and death with the sea, while a painting of a lone eye (most likely Red’s) stares back at the viewer in the background beside a cabinet with mirror.

It’s tempting to say that the film abounds with symbolisms, which is just as well as if to compensate for the straitjacketed camera angle, but herein lies the gist of independent cinema, because borne out of