letter from the editor
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night," – “Howl” by Allen Ginsberg
I have always wanted to produce an issue that revolved around what happens after hours. A show I watched by happenstance, Midnight Diner, interactions that can only happen at night, but also how and why these interactions came to be. One thing we almost always ask each other during the late hours of the night is, “What are you doing?” Though the answers may be different, it almost feels like anyone resisting the natural desire to sleep during the night is trespassing. Like we’re in one big, mad, beautiful secret together.
The night is a metaphor for many things. It is and vulnerability all at once. Conversations happen to be big chunks of this issue’s content, and though the stories and features are vastly different from each other, we hope that we unpack what the night represents to many of us “angelheaded hipsters.” Reading writers from the Beat Generation makes me feel that the alienation 1950s industrialized America endured is pretty much alive today due to the advent of technology.
to us: the struggle of self-image and constant improvement in the hyperreal, hyperconnected society we live in. Even in the internet, day and
“I don’t shy away from anything. I embrace traditional filmmaking until I hear its bones break,” says local experimental filmmaker
Khavn De La Cruz. His works disturb the comfortable the way Filipino commercial films comfort the disturbed.
“There is no need [to see the balance,” is what Khavn believes. He has been bringing that balance to our local cinema since 1994. All in all, he has created 47 features and 112 remains faithful to his philosophy of what “wazak” entails.
“Wazak” is an outdated Filipino slang word that’s the equivalent of “astig” today. But at the same time, it is also rooted in the word “ruined.” This backdrop is what our country often arrive on our shores—our slums.
The slums of Manila play a huge part in Khavn’s works. The Family that Eats Soil, Mondomanila, Ruined Heart, and his documentary Squatterpunk share this commonality. All of them also tackle themes that question the integrity of Filipino idealism by using non- linear narratives to tip the country’s moral compass.
Filipino culture is shown through the surrealist and disturbing realities of Khavn’s characters. From the grime and by a broken system to the darkest kinks of the human psyche, his lens treads where few local His 2004 feature The Family
That Eats Soil serves as a prime example. Khavn describes prostitution, midgets, skullcrushing, and plots to kill launched him to critical acclaim, but it also set the tone
that eats soil for every meal—a father is a child murderer, their mother is a drug-dealing media personality, and their grandfather is literally dead.
This disturbing and surreal tale has all the main components of a Khavn De La Cruz classic. He dejects and deconstructs the spell of poverty porn in Filipino cinema by showing the dark side of the
for their audiences to be strapped down with their eyes peeled to watch the jarring
Mondomanila puts this in perspective by opening with a quote from actress Claire Danes describing Manila: cockroaches, with rats all over and that there is no sewerage system and the people do not have anything—no arms, no legs, no eyes.” This is exactly what Khavn shows in his
Mondomanila, Ruined Heart, and Squatterpunk continue to push this deconstruction in Philippine cinema. These two non- linear narratives and one social realist documentary have the slums of the city as their backdrop. But their stories are not begging for pity; instead, they invite people to watch closely.
Mondomanila is “Glee on meth” following the anti- hero Tony de Guzman as he grits his teeth drug addicts, Yankee pedophiles, and other characters. Similar traits and struggles follow the characters of Ruined Heart. Ruined Heart or Pusong Wazak is a Yakuza’s version of Romeo and Juliet. It’s set once again in the ultraviolent streets of and other vices come into play. and tragedy between two people, a hitman and a crime boss’s girl.
As for Squatterpunk, this social realist documentary is a metaphorical F.U. to the “bleak poverty” stigma. As it follows the lives of an eight- year- old Slum King and his young, rowdy posse, Khavn’s lens becomes a window to these young boys’ joy- filled childhood surrounded by the city’s filth.
stomach and hard to watch. They dwell on themes of ultraviolence, amorality, and our country’s taboos within a Third World setting. All of the stuff traditionalists here want to sweep under the rug.
to talk about them rather than ignore them. Something that commercial
outlook on Philippine cinema with his brand of cinema. He engages his audience in conversations that we need to to smear the Philippines, but for Filipinos to realize that this is the Philippines. With seemingly unlikeable anti- heroes, Khavn rejects the one- sided idea of poverty. It is all the murk and grime of a UNICEF ad. But the characters also show us that their lives continue regardless. Messy, rowdy, polarizing, and “wazak” through and through.
“The universe of cinema is big. Create your own planet,” is Khavn’s advice to young who try to adapt his methods “wazak” principles might not be for everyone. But what storytellers and the audience can learn from him is that nothing is a one-trick pony.
There will always be multiple sides to everything: this country, our brand of cinema, and morality in general. Khavn has never seen the need balance. And he pulls off just that by keeping our eyes wide open to the horrors of the country.