She savors
the joys of childbirth through the eyes of another. Those sad, sad eyes
light up at the sight of a newborn and at the sound of its first lusty
cries. The rows and rows of umbilical cords Shaleha keeps in her
simple home remind her of newborn babies she held in her hand, but can never
call her own.
And the sea
where she and her husband get their living from is no different. The
miles and miles of tranquil blue stretching as far as the eye can see hide
sharks — natural and man-made. The natural ones are quiet. It's the
man-made variety that shakes husband-and-wife's peaceful world and threaten
their survival.
This is the
setting of a woman's journey of love and sacrifice. Make that a
traditional Filipina's journey of love and sacrifice. For rare is
the woman of modern times — especially the Western ones -- who can
bend backwards for her man the way Shahela did.
Nerves of
steel
For her man,
Shahela can be outwardly meek and mild but all nerves of steel inside.
That's the third irony of the film. Only Nora's eyes can change from
unquestioning one instance, and uncertain the next. Only she can manage a
forced smile and convey a riot of emotions without uttering a single word.
Nora's
dialogues are few; her scenes quiet. But their very strength lies in
their stillness. You don't have to drop kilometric lines to convey
love. You don't have to lash out at someone to show how green with envy
you are.
The hush-hush
mood is temporary. The film brightens up --literally and figuratively —
every so often. The bold colors of Badjao mats and clothing, the
gaily-painted boats and carefree children jumping into the sea or flying
kites, mirror a life of simply joys.
Festive
wedding scenes break the monotony of day-to-day scrimping and coaxing a living
from the sea. Life goes on despite the occasional gunshots that sow fear
in the middle of a happy wedding. And oh, that's irony number four.
Life-giver
The final,
and the best kind of irony comes at the end of the film, which is so
thought-provoking it's a shame to reveal it here. Suffice it to say that
it can bring Shahela close to the precipice, where she plays life
giver once more . It's no coincidence that the closing scene of the film
is strikingly similar to the one that opens it.
Mendoza doesn't
spoon feed by showing how things turn out to be. He resorts
to clues -- the body language, the one-liners. Draw your
conclusions from there. Mendoza respects the viewer so much he won't
spoonfeed him or her.
And you leave
the movie house feeling like a demi-god— your opinion on the final scene
as vital as the director's. It makes you wonder, should 'Thy Womb' have a sequel or not?
Judging from
the rave reviews the international community heaped on the film, the
answer is a resounding yes.
No comments:
Post a Comment