Reflections on Culture and on "Tanabata's Wife" (The Movie)

Teatro Amianan, Baguio City November 18, 2018. The film ended and there followed an awkward silence. Some of the audience looked at each other wondering and waiting. Then someone started the clap.

Was this silence from a speechless admiration for a great film? Or a silence because there was something missing and the audience was waiting for it never to come?  and what does it say to those many who watched because the film featured the Cordilleras and had Cordilleran actors? What can we say?

Let us rewind how we got here.

“Tanabata’s Wife” is a short story written by Sinai Hamada. Japanese-Ibaloi by birth, he has carved himself into the Phillippine literary cannon to the extent that his stories, especially and perhaps only Tanabata’s Wife has been a required reading for generations of Philippine Literature students. 

            Minus perhaps the countless plays students were asked to render the story in, this is the first time Tanabata’s wife has found itself into the “sixth art” – cinema. And much like the dual origin of the short story’s author, the film also has a seemingly dual and even multi-identity.

            As the credits suggest, the film is a tribute to the well-known Japanese directors, Yasujirō Ozu and Akira Kurosawa. There are obvious references like the scene in Tanabata’s Wife where a character was holding a baby reminds us of the woodcutter also holding the baby in Kurosawa’s “Rashomon”, both of which happen near the end of both films. “Tatami” shots (taken as the camera is at a low level) inside the home also abound “Tanabata’s Wife” which can be credited to Ozu’s “Tokyo Story”.

            Add to that, half of the cast are Japanese as are much of the dialogues themselves. Finally, Japanese print is also strewn into the film when the chapters are divided. We could surmise: this is an exercise on Japanese film making. With a Japanese-Filipino author, Japanese directors as inspiration, Japanese actors, language and print, the film could easily be mistaken as a full blown Japanese film.

Even if we look at a possible message of the story, one viewer commented “Bida na naman mga Hapon” owing to the fact that it was Tanabata, the Japanese, who stayed true  while Fas-Ang, the Cordilleran,  became unfaithful. So this is a Japanese film to make the Japanese look good? Of course, that judgment does not do justice to what  else the film has to offer, but it is a response nonetheless and it is precisely with issues on ethnicity and race that productions of any kind become extra interesting and problematic.

We give credit for the production team when they opened the floor for questions and comments after the film. We hope that this practice continues. One viewer commented on Fas-ang’s Bontoc language which, according to her was not Bontoc enough as there are traces of other languages mixed into it. There will be an endless debate whether the comment was on point or not - whether we give leeway to poetic license nor be faithful to traditional language or culture.

 There are legitimate demands for each production to be faithful to the culture it represents that an acceptable amount of research is needed. Of course, another comment rang with “They should have done more research”.

 But there are equally legitimate claims that the culture we know of, the we are proud of is quite fluid, evolving and complex. Take for example the scene where Tanabata teaches Fas-ang to plant cabbages. Historians would note that it was the Japanese and other foreigners who actually brought the culture of growing leafy vegetables to the cordilleras, add to this strawberries. Originally, we planted only root crops.  There is also a scene where Tanabata was teaching Fas-ang to dance a certain dance. That is a tease for our imagination. What other aspects of the culture that we are so proud of could have been influenced by foreigners? 

Ethnic identity so they say, is something we practice. But we only get to be aware of our own if we interact with other identities that are vastly different than us.  And in these interactions with other cultures, we also get to learn and improve on our own- perhaps by adopting other aspects of other’s cultures. We don’t have isolated cultures. If Fas-ang spoke Ibontoc with certain Sagada Kankana-ey twangs it is not only because Mai Fanglayan, the actress is from Sagada as well as from Bontoc, it is from the very  fact that cultures interact and it won’t be too hard to imagine that a woman from Bontoc might have a father who is not one.

On the other hand, when this was asked, the answer proved unsatisfactory giving credence to the comment that the production team should have done more “research” into their material. Nonetheless, the cast included cultural workers like Shane Daweg among others who helped the production team not to make glaring “misrepresentations” of cultural artefacts. Perhaps the producers were also quite sensitive and learned enough not to do another Mumbaki(1996).

One thing is certain, movies like these speak directly to us by purporting to represent us and/or the people around us in any given time and place in history. And history has also proven that many times these representations failed which could explain why our first instinct is often to hunt for misrepresentations. I did cringe on the part where Fas-ang referred to her people as warriors while she told Tanabata that they are taught to heal themselves and I do share the sentiment of others who questioned the existence and design of Fas-ang’s tattoo.

But sometimes I grew weary of these readings, while we should still be adamant, there is a need to reflect on what it really is that we want to see. I long for a time when we could glean pleasure or displeasure at a production not because of its correct or in correct representation of us, but because we have developed a sense of aesthetic that goes beyond mere accuracy or identification of our culture. For sure, many of us watched it because it featured the Cordilleras and cast cordilleran actors. While that is a good step forward, there is a need to dig deeper beyond appearances.

For it is precisely in that need to go beyond appearances where the film might have failed.

For starters, the movie was supposedly inspired by the said Japanese directors Ozu and Korusawa, but is that inspiration merely cosmetic? Ozu and Korusawa made their mark not only by the visually obvious techniques but by how they also exhibited certain aesthetics and insights into their works. Their stories, or at least the stories they chose were those that tackled grand questions (Korusawa) or zoomed into the intricacies of human drama (Ozu).  Their films were more than just eye candies. They were either interrogating the human ego or expounding on the aesthetics of wabi sabi or the philosophy of Zen - mono no aware. Oh, and they were also telling stories.

One question during the open forum was  "what happened to Okdo?". Okdo is a distant cousin of Fas-ang, he tried to take her away from Tanabata, he almost succeeded. Okdo is equally interesting as he was someone who wanted to become a soldier and went in to work with the Americans while Fas-ang for the Japanese. Naturally, Fas-ang was treated kindly, while Okdo was not. The last we get to see of Okdo, wearing his bahag but with an American coat for his top, is in a similar shot of the woodcutter holding the baby in “Rashomon’s” final scenes. And we saw little of him. It was an opportunity that was wasted by the film as they had perhaps the perfect actor, Kurt Alalag who played it and even provided some of the musical score.

Another comment went on the lines that the story boarding was prone to cutting scenes right when the interest was just building up. Which was on point since there was little tension nor interest build up for you to keep on turning the page/scene. Something was lacking especially if we think that the film tried to build a love story between the supposedly 50 year old Tanabata and the 15 year old Fas-ang.  A hard thing to do without selling the film as a Lollita throwback.

(although, if you check the film’s poster, you might think otherwise, as in the first picture we see mysterious Fas-ang, hiding half of her face, in the middle we see Fas-ang bathing Tanabata of course both are supposedly naked, and then we see Tanabata deep in thought). There was little tension nor chemistry to move the “love” story and in the end when Fas-ang returns to Tanabata, we could ask if the motivating factor was Okdo’s failure to provide for them, if he was as rich as tanabata, Fas-ang might’ve stayed.

Of course, we've watched how some Japanese films portray lov in such a slow often uneventful manners and even highly symbolic ones (Like the pounding of rice in lieu of love making ) but there was little symbolism as another lamented at how the film disregarded the ”symbolism” of the  lamp at the end of Hamada’s story. But this story was fast and quite simple. Really so simple that it might never have been a love story at all.

Poor Fas-ang needs a job, rich Tanabata needs a helper, hires Fas-ang, they "fall in love" a classic love story of poor woman marrying the rich often older guy most often her employer. Filipino enough? Many would find this part not very educative especially as the film is supposedly a part of an educative series.

Maybe in an effort to cater to the Filipino audience that love these love story archetypes or just any love story, plus the effort to pay homage to Korusawa and Ozu, vis a vis the effort to be careful in treating cordilleran represents without making it too sensual to the point of covering the breasts, and the decision to stay true to Hamada’s story and finally the usual time and budget constraints, they were only able to do much which was a visual feast but I struggle to find anything more than that.  The pictures, although beautiful, were not enough.

In the same manner, aspects of the Cordilleran culture were only presented skin deep (this was a Japanese film after all), and nothing much apart from what is already expected: the ever problematic warrior theme, hard headedness, clothing, language. But there was a flash of one which could be a ripe concept for others who want to explore cordilleran culture:

Okdo refused to accept Fas-ang’s child because he was the son of an “outsider”, earlier he was also sceptical of Tanabata. Equally, in Hamada’s story , which was not present in the film, we have Tanabata asking his friend for advice whether he should marry Fas-ang or not, and one of the considerations was her being from Bontoc compared to his friend’s wife who was  someone from Benguet.    

This kind of differentiation that goes beyond the patterns of the tapis or the color of the skin may bring to mind concepts of ethnocentrism or stereotyping that is expressed in different ways by the different cultures all over the world including Cordilleran culture.

On a final note, there is something that can connect all this mumbo jumbo about Japanese directors and aesthetics to our Cordilleran sensibilities.

Ozu and Korusawa have often been compared with each other. Korusawa was explicit and accepting of western influences (Shakespeare) and Ozu was the more “Japanese” of the two this is despite the fact that Korusawa featured Japanese samurai more often while Ozu focused on the domestic life of middle class Japan. Korusawa  moved his camera and Ozu didn’t. Yet they, as much as their works of art are still considered  Japanese.

How then can a work of art be called Cordilleran?