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Movie review: The compassion of Cinemalaya film 'Quick Change'
By IBARRA C. MATEO
Members of the moneyed class discreetly go to famous hospitals and expensive clinics for their stem cell treatment, Botox injection, and body sculpture in their never-ending quest for beauty and youth.
Well-placed advertisements of popular personalities testifying to the efficacy of particular treatments or procedures seem designed to further feed the emotional craving to be eternally desired and desirable.
The less and least privileged sectors are not immune to this hankering.
However, limitations force them to patronize the illegal backyard cosmetic industry of injecting “collagen” into various parts of the human anatomy to enlarge their sizes or to make them look “beautiful” or “endowed.”
“Quick Change,” written and directed by Eduardo Roy Jr., is an unabashed take on the dangerous, scruffy underground world of the illegal cosmetic trade, notably “collagen” injection, which is popular among transgenders, women, and certain segments of the male population who aspire to be “big” and “bigger.”
Like his 2011 Cinemalaya entry “Bahay Bata,” Roy’s “Quick Change” did not instantly excite nor immediately arouse the curiosity of indie followers in the early days of this year’s Cinemalaya.
The lukewarm reception is understandable.
“Quick Change” did not tap bankable shining stars nor did it enlist the sexy talents of the Philippine entertainment industry. Worse, it did not have brash public relations handlers proffering “stories” to fuel the buzz and increase ticket sales. It did not stage high-profile press conferences and media events.
But to the genuine indie film lovers who took a gamble to willingly part with their P150 to watch “Quick Change,” Roy and his team gifted them with a rare golden gem—an almost-documentary-like peek into the complex psyche of transgenders who go for “collagen” injection, despite its hazards, to “sculpt” their breasts, cheeks, and buttocks.
Not only this. Roy’s film goes on to penetrate the mosaic mind of a transgender’s “macho” lover, who does not want to face reality while making love to his partner.
And yet, in one scene, this "macho" lover cheerfully wears a beauty pageant crown, dons the sash, and convincingly imitates a transgender contestant wittingly answer questions from a make-believe jury. Minutes later, one sees the tough guy, still gloriously wearing the crown and sash, in an intimate scene with his partner. A true psychologically provocative scene.
And yet, in one scene, this "macho" lover cheerfully wears a beauty pageant crown, dons the sash, and convincingly imitates a transgender contestant wittingly answer questions from a make-believe jury. Minutes later, one sees the tough guy, still gloriously wearing the crown and sash, in an intimate scene with his partner. A true psychologically provocative scene.
Roy employs Dorina (real-life transgender Mimi Juareza who auditioned for the role) as the main character and driver of the simple but intoxicating narrative.
Dorina is a mother-figure to her eight-year-old nephew Hiro (Miggs Cuaderno) and a devoted wife to her “husband” Uno (Jun-jun Quitana) and supports them financially through her illegal cosmetic “surgery” business: “collagen injection.”
Roy’s personal knowledge of this criminal world (a friend of his died because of “collagen” injection) and strong research on the topic were strongly evident in the film.
Roy makes the viewers alternately hate and sympathize with the people living in this underground ecosystem through his masterful unfolding of the little stories of each character.
He takes the viewers into an eye-opening exploration of the various interstices of the ecosystem of the forbidden cosmetic industry: From the supplier (a gritty neighborhood vehicle repair shop), plastic bottles of “collagen” are transported via pedicabs or on foot, up to the end-users (transsexuals or neighborhood toughies who willingly undergo the procedure in grimy flats or dirty motel rooms).
Tire black coat, a chemical preparation used to make a vehicle's tires shiny, was mentioned in the dialogue as a substitute for the real collagen and peddled by unscrupulous suppliers.
Medical doctors have said ordinary “baby oil products” sold over the counter are also preferred “substitutes” for genuine collagen because of their low cost and similar consistency.
It is easy to dismiss “Quick Change,” with its bloody scenes, dark story, and cast, a significant number of whom are transgenders and gays, as glorifying criminals and transgenders, and thus, not worth watching. This is an utter misreading of the film.
It is precisely because of Roy’s humane and intelligent handling of Dorina’s circumstances, both as a victim and a criminal, and his nuanced understanding of the preys and culprits involved in this illegal trade and how these people negotiate skillfully the daily grinds of deaths and personal “salvation” that “Quick Change” sparkles as an indie film, even if seen along with its more pedigreed and swank competitors in the 2013 Cinemalaya Philippine Independent Film Festival.
It is in “Quick Change”’s darkness that it shines upon a world not fully discovered.
It is in “Quick Change”’s brutality that it manifests the tenderness of the underground criminal ecosystem.
It is in “Quick Change”’s bending of gender stereotypes that it suffuses the world with compassion. —KG, GMA News
Ibarra C. Mateo, a former international wire service correspondent covering Asian politics, returned to Manila after studying Japanese history and Japanese urban sociology at the Sophia University Graduate School in Tokyo. The views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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