Remembering those vanished years
Review of Christopher Gozum's "Dapol Tan Payawar Na Tayug 1931" (The Ashes and Ghosts of Tayug 1931), Official Entry, Circle Competition, QCinema International Film Festival 2017
* Winner, Jury Prize, QCinema 2017
Memory is a killer, in such way that it can betray us with facts and details, but more so when it ceases to exist entirely, burying history for good. In "Dapol Tan Payawar Na Tayug 1931," Pangasinense filmmaker Christopher Gozum unearths the little-known story of Pedro Calosa, and the infamous Tayug uprising of 1931, and it's easy to see why the Tayug uprising is worth the cinematic retelling; it's a revolt against capitalist landlords during the American occupation, a social issue that still persists today.
Historian Teddy Co notes that there were two previous films about the Tayug uprising, one made by National Artist for Film Gerardo De Leon and the other, by Robert Arevalo. Gozum, on the other hand, plays with the cinematic form, choosing to tell his version across three timelines, and using various film techniques. First, as a silent film set in 1927; then as a somewhat didactic, often mystical encounter in 1966 between an older Pedro Calosa and academics David Sturtevant and F. Sionil Jose, and finally; as a series of still photographs, as a filmmaker searches for truth in Tayug in 2001.
First off, the threefold structure is remarkable, because it gives viewers varying perspectives into Calosa's life, and his legacy (or the lack of it). For a film that runs for two hours and on a relaxed pace, patience is heavily required. Some parts could have been shortened or more tightly edited, like the Vox Populi sequence, but in its entirety, the film succeeds in opening a window for discussion regarding Filipinos' short memory span, our tendency to easily forget.
Part one, the silent film: Gozum masterfully utilizes the charm and aesthetics of early silent films to recount the 1931 Tayug uprising, as a young Pedro Calosa (Cedrick Juan) is torn between nationalism and the brewing dissent among their ranks. Juan evokes the fiery youth of his character- hungry, idealistic and filled with energy, as opposed to...
Part two, the academic encounter: In here, an older Calosa is portrayed by actor and filmmaker Perry Dizon, who is now resigned to a quiet life in the mountains. His tranquil resignation is disrupted with the arrival of American scholar David Sturtevant and Pangasinense writer and later National Artist for Literature F. Sionil Jose (Soliman Cruz). As Calosa, Dizon mystifies and thrills with his heartbreaking portrayal, channeling a tortured character that has chosen to hide his wisdom and ideology amongst the spirits. Parallelisms between Calosa the man and Calosa the myth collide in this segment, filmed with such intricacy against haunting nature backdrops. Gozum also captures Calosa's reluctance to answer the academics' queries, taking them instead on an uphill trek into the unknown. In the original transcript of the 1966 interview, Calosa makes short replies to the academics' questions, even getting irritable at certain times.
Part three, the filmmaker: Fe GingGing Hyde acts as a stand in for Gozum, as a filmmaker researching the life of Calosa, in the hopes of making a film about the Tayug uprising. Hyde the filmmaker searches faces and places, trying to find a semblance of history amongst modernity. Never an ugly photograph in the mix, Gozum stacks his stills in a beautiful black-and-white slideshow, as Hyde's voiceover cites passages from Sturtevant and another writer, Kerima Polotan.
Learning about Calosa for the first time through Gozum's film, I'd say there are still a lot of details left out, which is not necessarily a minus to the filmmaker. It's evident that Gozum is still learning new things about Calosa, and what we see in the film is the extent of his research so far. Actually, the open-endedness of the historical aspect of the film is what makes it beautiful, given that Gozum's thesis is anchored on why only a few people knew about Calosa, and in this regard, there is closure.
The final 10 minutes or so of "Tayug" completely changed the meaning of the entire movie, elevating the material into a cinematic gem, reminiscent of Shuji Terayama's 1974 film "Pastoral: To Die in the Country," which also blurred the line between fiction and reality.
