‘Dementia’ Review
By: OGGS CRUZ
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''Dementia'
has a lot of breathing space, a lot of protracted moments for thought and
pondering. This is clearly a thinking man’s horror film,'
Oggs
Cruz
Perci Intalan opens Dementia with majestic shots
of what seems to be a perfectly picturesque island. Slowly, he reveals the
subtle wickedness of his pristine setting. Jagged rocks line the isle’s
white-sand beaches. Tumultuous waves batter its treacherous coasts. Trees, with
branches that have been rendered twisted by cruel winds, dot its rolling
fields.
Things are not always what they seem. More often
than not, there are shadows behind every pretty picture. This is the horror of
Intalan’s debut feature.
Dementia is obsessed with contrasts. The film
consistently contorts expectations, delivering an experience that is clearly
beyond the cheap shocks and thrills that are traditionally dealt by its more
plebeian counterparts.
Intalan is deliberate and precise in his
presentation. There are no attempts to rush as he relishes revealing the many
monsters that linger in paradise.
As a result, Dementia has a lot of breathing
space, a lot of protracted moments for thought and pondering. This is clearly a
thinking man’s horror film.
Phantoms
and damsels in distress
The story, whose concept also involved Jun Lana,
is a mix of genre tropes and novel ideas. Dementia-afflicted Mara (Nora Aunor)
is brought back to Batanes by her closest kin Eleina (Bing Loyzaga) in an
effort to cure her of her debilitating disease.
Included in Mara’s homebound entourage is
Eleina’s husband, Rommel (Yul Servo), and daughter, Rachel (Jasmine
Curtis-Smith). Eleina’s plan seems to have worked as Mara’s memories slowly
return, however, with horrific repercussions.
The plot does not stray far from the beaten path
most horror films take. Its characters are molded from stereotypes. Eleina is
the patient and doting parent. Rommel is her counterpart, impatient and
annoying. Rachel, a city slicker whose utmost desire is to be spirited away
from the boring island she was dragged onto against her will, is the film’s
predictable damsel in distress.
The film’s primary phantom, a ghost (Chynna
Ortaleza) garbed in a white wedding gown, haunts in the dark, with her
alabaster frame eerily contrasting the film’s many greys and blacks.
Intalan intelligently embraces the plot’s
conventions, acknowledging that the key to contemporary horror is not
reinvention but refinery. Thus, he innovates elsewhere. Sure, there are
narrative surprises here and there, but the film’s heart does not lie in its
plot per se but in its telling.
Dementia is a deftly designed and produced
picture. The images cinematographer Mackie Galvez creates complement the film’s
exploration of the fearsome unknown. The music that scorer Von de Guzman
concocts adds both cacophony and order to the already imposing feast.
Nora
Aunor, From prop to asset
Intalan ingeniously uses Aunor here. For most of
the film, Aunor does nothing, mostly mumbling gibberish and staring blankly
into space, true to her character’s famous affliction. Intalan manages her
presence throughout the entire film, reserving her gifts until they are truly
needed. She is mostly seen in the shadows, silhouetted by her house’s forgotten
furnishings.
Near the end of the film, Intalan unleashes
Aunor’s powers. In its climactic scene, Intalan suddenly makes use of a rare
extreme close-up, on Aunor’s evocative eyes, trembling and pregnant with
decades’ worth of memories breaking free from their cages.
The film’s prolonged subtlety, even in its
utility of Aunor, pays off.
A certain
lack of evil
For all its technical mastery, Dementia seems to
lack one ingredient that could make it truly scary. Its explorations are
grounded not by humanity’s capacity to abandon morality, but by disease. Mara’s
condition is clearly medical. From the film’s lengthy revelatory flashbacks, it
seems that her phantom’s motivations for murder are medical too.
It lacks evil. Its characters lack moral
discord, since they are pushed to actions, no matter how horrific, by physical
deficiencies, not by an inherent capacity to commit atrocities. Simply put,
Dementia does not seem to want to dig deeper. It seems to forgo exploring
humanity’s frailty, how far we all are from being created in the image of a
good and perfect god.
Thankfully, Dementia does not stop with the
conclusion of Mara’s reunion with her island. In a swift act of genius, Lana
and Intalan reveal something about Mara’s personality, in another flashback
that is set in a hospital just a few months before their arrival in the island.
The scene seems harmless and unneeded, but its effects are actually
foreshadowed, by Rommel’s disdain with Mara.
By gifting Mara with this twist, Lana and
Intalan have laced Aunor’s character with a clear sliver of mischief, an
inherent capacity for malice. There are in fact two phantoms in paradise. –
Rappler.com
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Francis Joseph Cruz litigates for a living and writes about
cinema for fun. The first Filipino movie he saw in the theaters was Carlo J.
Caparas’ 'Tirad Pass.' Since then, he’s been on a mission to find better
memories with Philippine cinema.
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