IT is every filmmaker’s dream to be included in at least one of these three film festivals that happen right after the other: Sundance, Rotterdam and Berlin

And this poor little gay boy film from the Philippines called “Maxi” made it to all three.

In every open forum, whether in the Egyptian theatre in Park City, Utah, or the modern cinemas in Rotterdam, Netherlands, or the 1,000-seater Zoo-Palast in Berlin, Germany, there would be great applause every time I tell the audience that my first feature film, “Maxi” or “Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros” (“The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros”) was finished in 13 days, with less than $10,000 (Php500,000 from the Cinemalaya fund) as initial budget and was shot in the streets where I grew up (and still live in).

How did everything begin?

I believe in the magic of serendipity. I was in Boracay pitching my own “dream film” (a Palawan origin myth) for the CineManila International Co-production Fund when I met Raymond Lee, who has seen my early short films and documentaries, as well as my theatrical work at the University of the Philippines (where I was a Theater Arts major).

My so-called “claim to fame” then was that I directed the music video of the Eraserheads’ “Ang Huling El Bimbo,” which won an MTV Video Music Award in 1997. I had also experimented with different genres like my first short film for the Mowelfund Film Institute Animation workshop, “The Brief Lifespan of Fire,” and my black and white ode to a UP mentor, Rogelio Sicat, filming his classic short story “Impeng Negro.”

When I rediscovered my indigenous roots in Palawan, I immersed myself with tribal stuff and made a series of documentaries that culminated with “Basal Banar-The Sacred Ritual of Truth.”

I didn’t get the money for my dream film, but a few months later I got a call from Raymond, asking me to direct Michiko Yamamoto’s script, “Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros,” which had earlier received a grant of Php500,000 from the Cinemalaya contest.

I had just arrived then in Manila from the Toronto ImagineNative Film Festival (where “Basal Banar” was shown), wishing that I could direct a progressive gay film.

Who would have thought that I would get to realize a filmmaker’s dream?

SUNDANCING

Nik Leung, my batchmate in Pisay (Philippine Science High School) who now lives in the US, used his credit card online to pay the $40 entrance fee that I would need to attend the Sundance International Film Festival. By this time, “Maxi” had won three international awards: The Golden Zenith for First Feature Film at the Montreal World Film Festival; The Best Feature Film in ImagineNative Film Festival in Toronto; and the Best Film at the Asian Festival of First Films in Singapore.

The first familiar face I saw in Sundance was Bird Runningwater, a tall Native American Indian film programmer. He wrote what I consider as the best synopsis and mini-review of “Maxi” in the Sundance website and catalogue: simple but intelligent; direct but heartfelt.

Sundance was overwhelming. I couldn’t forget how my hands trembled as I took a video shot of Robert Redford standing beside my table for the Directors’ Brunch.

It was the closest brush with Hollywood a young filmmaker could ever have: suddenly seeing Gwyneth Paltrow standing beside you and almost not notice Sally Fields sitting at another table; bumping into world-renowned filmmakers like John Waters and Wim Wenders on the streets of Park City; meeting Michelle Yeoh on the way to the toilet and having a picture taken with her; and befriending a personal favorite filmmaker, Jennie Livingston, who directed “Paris is Burning,” the groundbreaking gay documentary that opened my mind to a lot of things when I saw it as a college freshman.

There where endless parties of all kinds! I was invited to all Directors’ get-togethers, the Native Forum, got VIP treatment in the Queer Lounge, International and Asian dinners.

It was good to be accorded such niceties. Too good, in fact, that by the fifth day, I was exhausted and stayed the whole day in the condo unit paid for by the festival organizers. Thanks to the home-made lugao (rice porridge) prepared by my Pinoy friends at the China Panda restaurant and the salabat (ginger tea) I made from luya, I was revived for the last five days in which my film would have its US premiere.

But amidst the parties, celebrities and films, there was the breathtaking landscape of Utah. This was my first time to experience winter and it was beautiful.

Perhaps my greatest fulfillment as a filmmaker is that every time our kababayans, after watching an international screening, would approach me and say, “Your film made us proud to be Filipinos”.
In Sundance, a Filipino publicist and I had a heart-to-heart talk. He proudly tells me, “Whatever happens, win or lose in the competition, whether 10 or 100 years from now, your film will always be the first ever home-made Filipino film that was in competition in Sundance”.

My happiest moment in Sundance came when nine of my Philippine Science batchmates (including Nik Leung) arrived on the second screening for moral support. The next day we played in the snow like children and laughed like we never left high school.

RELAXING IN ROTTERDAM

Rotterdam was more relaxed. For once “Maximo” wasn’t in competition. So when a Filipina approached me after a screening and held me tight and said, “Sana manalo ka,” I didnt have the heart to tell her that I wasn’t “in competition.”
As I rushed back to the hotel to pack my things, I suddenly got a call from the festival coordinator. She told me, “Don’t leave yet... you won a prize!”

Surprised, I answered back, “But I am not in competition.” And then she said, “The Asian critics from NETPAC (Network for Promotion of Asian Cinema) are giving you the Best Asian Film Prize!”

Somehow, the words of that dear overseas Pinay worker were prophetic, what we call “dilang anghel” or one speaking like an angel.

It feels profoundly great when something unexpected like this happens. In Sundance, I was in competition but didn’t win. And yet in Rotterdam, I win something when I wasn’t even in competition.

Going up the stage that night, I dedicated the award to all Filipinos around the world who are exiles of poverty!

Berlin: A fitting finale

A fitting finale in this journey of three festivals was “Maximo winning three more awards at the Berlinale (Berlin International Film Festival): the 20th Anniversary Teddy Award for Best Feature Film (3000 euros which goes to the film director); the Kinderfest International Jury Grand Prize (7,500 euros which Goes again to the director) and 2nd Prize Kinder (Children’s) Jury.

In one open forum, a woman said she was shocked that my film was shown at the Kinderfest or Festival for Children. I then asked the audience, “Children, are you shocked?”

A boy answered, “No. It was cool!” And all the children in the audience applauded and cheered! So I said, “If one boy in the audience, after watching my film, realized that it’s beautiful to be himself, then I would have fulfilled my duty as a filmmaker.”

Katerina, a half-Filipina, half-German champion of street dancing in Germany, amusingly scolds her Mom (Ate Nens, who also hosted my stay in Berlin) after watching my film: “Mother, you should have taught me how to speak Tagalog! I am so proud to be Filipino!”

BACK IN MANILA

So what’s the secret of “Maximo Oliveros”? Why is he so loved everywhere he goes?

I believe the Philippines has a very humanistic nature because our ancestors respected everything that was natural; nature itself and people’s nature.

Despite the influence of the Catholic Church and American colonialism, the true Filipino spirit has remained resilient. Like Maxi’s family, we laugh at our tragedies in the face of extreme poverty. Like Maxi himself, we love unconditionally.

I return to Sampaloc, Manila, on the streets where I shot Maximo’s made-up life, the environment I grew up and still live in. I was lucky that my parents had good jobs in the government so we have this beautiful house with a mini forest-garden. (The policeman’s house in the film was our house.) Beside us are the slums.

We’ve always had a great relationship with the neighbors, that’s why they shared themselves and their houses in the film. They all played cameo roles in the film while their homes just beside ours became Maxi’s neighborhood.

I feel sad as I come home because my neighbors’ houses have no electricity, after they were caught illegally tapping from a power source.

A few days later, still surrounded by darkness, the neighbors tell me how proud they were of my victory abroad, as they pass around a glass of gin. As I drank from this glass, a thought flashed through my senses. The people’s spirit is alive after all.

We might indeed be poor, but not in spirit.

Email the author: auraeus_solito@yahoo.com

By Auraeus Solito