Behind Black Beret 2024: Talking to UP Student Filmmakers
Behind Black Beret 2024: Talking to UP Student Filmmakers
Artwork by Monica Chu.
As a pseudo-film student, I’ve frequented the events hosted and organized by the UP Film Institute. Last year, I attended Black Beret as a mere supporter and audience member. This year, I came to Black Beret 2024 hoping to get to know the student filmmakers behind some of the films showcased this year, alongside being an audience member.
NOTE: An English translation for Tagalog and Taglish statements will also be provided, italicized in a dark-blue text color.
Maria Miranda as Lola Rosa and Ivan Rod Ferran as Red in ‘lola.psd’. | Taken from ‘lola.psd’ official Facebook page.
lola.psd (2023)
Dir. Coby Mercado
Coby Mercado is the writer and director of ‘lola.psd’, a short film following the unlikely friendship formed between a teenage boy, Red, who has a fondness and passion for photo editing, and a grandmother, Lola Rosa (Grandmother Rosa), the matriarch of the house who first intimidates, but discovers “characteristically-Gen Z” joys.
Coby is also a member of UP Cinema, a student film organization, and part of Floor21, a local film collective. You can also find him on Facebook (Coby Mercado), Instagram, and X, formerly known as Twitter (@mercadzz).
I had the privilege of talking to him and his journey in making the film. Here was our short, but gripping conversation about ‘lola.psd’:
So, first of all, congrats on your directing film! For first impressions, I loved the comedic tang and the witty jokes. You heard from the audience how much they enjoyed the jokes. What was it like making this film and how was the process for you?
CM: First, I wrote this last year. Since this was a directing class, I wanted to explore how I would make a film in general.
As someone who grew up editing, and watching YouTube videos, alongside comedy films, I wanted to make a film that encompasses both editing, and fun but also sentimental moments in life. I really love films or shows that tackle comedy but also drama. Life is both fun and sad moments. As an editor, I want to play with the pace. Sometimes I wanted to slow it down, and make it fast—that was the fun part. When I was editing this, I experimented a lot. While I was even writing it, I had the edit in mind—it’s not always healthy but I guess it worked.
I get that. You want to perfect it, you see the vision in your head, and think, “I need to get it right.” Did you think you achieved that?
CM: Yeah. I think I did. Even in the script, it felt like I had already edited it.
Nakita mo na yung shots, ganun? (You already saw the shots, like that?)
CM: Yeah, I know I had a director of photography (DOP) but it almost felt like I was also calling the shots (laughs). Although I wrote and edited the film, there were still things that I chose not to specify because I knew that my crew would be the one to fill in the blanks—and they got it perfectly, and even more.
That’s so wonderful! A takeaway I got from the film actually, was a fondness for memory and the old life, especially when they visited Lola Rosa’s old house which is now an ugly, grey, modern building na wala nang kulay (no more color). There’s a famous saying that says, “Nostalgia can paint memories in a brighter hue.”
CM: Wow! I’ve never heard of that but that fits so well.
That was the first quote I thought of… Anyway, what is the hardest part of making lola.psd?
CM: I guess it was the fear that, “Is it going to be funny?” My main target audience was our generation. I wasn’t sure how I was going to start writing it. I wanted to write what I knew, and eventually start researching what I didn’t know. I showed the script to some people to see if the joke landed—I went through many drafts writing it.
For the shooting and editing, we tried to cram everything into two days. But the conceptualization and the fear were harder for me.
Well, the audience's reaction speaks for itself. People found your film quite funny. I was next to the SINEGANG.ph publisher, and tawang tawa siya (he laughed so much).
CM: I know my market…! I showed the film to my family, and not all the jokes hit.
It’s a Gen Z film made by Gen Z!
One last question: that tonal shift in the third act, when Lola Rosa was triggered suddenly while Red was editing that image of her old house, and there was a fire. Was that metaphor that her old life burned away, or was it literal that there was a fire on the lot itself?
CM: Well, it’s both. There’s a backstory to that, but it doesn’t need to be explicitly told. It’s generally about her past. I didn’t go into detail about how she lost her house or how it burnt away. It’s just a callback to memories being both valuable to someone—you can feel so much from a memory—or, some memories just feel shallow.
That’s why my main motive for the film was, “Memories are not black and white.” Some memories make you feel different from another memory, another time. That house represented her childhood, her innocence. Before she became the ‘masungit na lola’ (grumpy grandmother), she was carefree. When she lost all of that, it changed her and made her a tougher person.
FOOTNOTE on Coby Mercado’s ‘lola.psd’
“Memories are not black and white.”
—Coby Mercado
This short, but sweet conversation made me recall how many of my creative musings center around hindsight and the art of remembering. ‘lola.psd’ is a film that urges its viewers to embrace all the colors in their memories–both bright and dark tones, vibrant and muted hues, and all hex codes of the color wheel, especially #DF84… Kidding! The film won many awards, garnering the following: Notable Recognition in Editing, Notable Recognition in Production Design, Notable Recognition in Cinematography, Notable Recognition for a Supporting Performance (Riya Miranda "Lola"), Notable Recognition for a Lead Performance (Ivan Ferran "Red"), Audience Choice Award, and the most anticipated award of the night, Outstanding Film!
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Missy Maramara as Vee and Kylle Audrey Columna as Mika in ‘hundreds of year(ning)s’. Directly requested from the director, Raia Miranda.
hundreds of year(ning)s (2023)
Dir. Raia Miranda
Raia Miranda is the writer and director of ‘hundreds of year(ning)s’, a short film telling the story of two ex-lovers whose romance transcends time and reality. It centers on two vampire women who encounter each other right before one gets married to a mortal man. Mika is a hairstylist who happens to encounter her ex, Vee, who comes to get her hair cut right before her wedding to not just a mortal, but to a groom too.
Raia is also a member of UP Cinema, a student film organization. You can also find her on Facebook (Raia Miranda), Instagram (@raiamazing), and X, formerly known as Twitter (@12aia_).
I had the chance to have a conversation with Raia, especially with her process of making the film. Here was our half-serious cinephile, half-casual (chammy-chammy, actually) conversation about ‘hundreds of year(ning)s’:
First of all, congratulations on making it to Black Beret day. I know marami kang pinagdaanan (you went through a lot) to get to this day, I’m sure.
RM: Buong buhay ‘ko tinaya dito… OA, pero ganun!
(I betted my entire life here. That’s an exaggeration, but basically that!)
As someone who had a very small part in this film, I had the privilege of witnessing this project being made. Paulit-ulit sa isang part ng film na need mong i-perfect… (You’d repeat one part of the film that you need to perfect again and again…)
RM: Real… real! Imagine repeating a single part 19 times because the film’s 19 minutes!
Anyway, what was your process like making ‘hundreds of year(ning)s’?
RM: First of all, watching any film and taking the time to feel them. Then, second, writing about what I feel in the moment. Kapag pinalipas ‘ko yung oras, mawawala yung nararamdaman ‘ko, yung nasa isip ‘ko. Dahil ginawa ‘ko siya with a very bare concept pa lang na—may makeup artist na gagawan ng isang bride, tapos mag-exes sila—but I thought that it was too plain.
Then suddenly, around July, I contracted a disease, and parang isang buwan ako naka-isolation. Puro ako pahinga; may mga days na bedridden ako, and then I came across Only Lovers Left Alive by Jim Jarmusch.
First of all, watching any film and taking the time to feel them. Then, second, writing about what I feel in the moment. If I let the time pass, my feelings and my thoughts would go away. Ultimately, that became my springboard for year(ning)s. Because I made this with a very bare concept that initially—there would be a makeup artist that gets a bride ready, then they would be exes—but I thought it was too plain.
Then suddenly, around July, I contracted a disease, and I had to be in isolation for a month. I only rested; there were days that I was bedridden, and then I came across Only Lovers Left Alive by Jim Jarmusch.
Oh, I’ve heard of it! I haven’t watched, though.
RM: You should watch it. Its portrayal of the existential ennui of vampires was really nice…
(laughing, together) Existential ennui?!
RM: Spell!
E-N-N-U-I.
RM: (laughing) Yeah! Doon nagsimula ang ‘year(ning)s’ (Yeah! That’s where the film started).
I love that for you! You know, when it comes to the filmmaking process, a lot of it is just watching and resting—
RM: Watching and resting—you need a quiet mind to make a film!
That’s true. Did you ever see yourself in the characters or draw from yourself or other people? Were there times you internalized? Like, was this film personal to you or was this your fantasy?
RM: Yes to all of the above. It’s a very, very personal film for me that when you watch it and when you know me, madali ihalintulad ako sa characters doon.
But what I want to say is that hindi lang ako yung isang character doon. I’m all of them. They’re all different parts of me at different points in my life and how I want to try to understand my life. Yung reflection ng tatlong characters na yun is how I’m making sense of my life, lalo na yung message ng film ‘ko ay: “what it feels like to grieve longer than you love.”
Yes to all of the above. It’s a very, very personal film for me that when you watch it and when you know me, it’s easy to compare me to the characters in the film.
But what I want to say is that I’m not only one of the characters in the film. I’m all of them. They’re all different parts of me at different points in my life and how I want to try to understand my life. But what I want to say is that the reflection of those three characters is how I’m making sense of my life, especially that the message of my film is: “what it feels like to grieve longer than you love.”
Yeah, you know, I saw that in your director’s message and I said to myself, “Damn! She put it so well!”
RM: (laughing) Daming sinabi!
Said too much!
You put it so well, though. That feeling of grieving… longer than loving. Hindi ko mahagip (I can’t articulate it)—it’s so well put.
RM: Thank you.
I’m sure that the audience will see that in your film.
RM: Kaya ginawa ‘ko silang bampira, kasi ang hirap i-imagine yung longevity of time of being immortal. Parang ganun din yung pagmamahal for me. When you start loving someone, you start this new life.
The concept of vampirism that you’re expected to not change at all—to just be this bloodsucker. Pero dahil gusto ‘ko rin tignan yung humanism, I asked: “What makes us human?” Ultimately, that’s grieving and loving, so I laced it together with being a vampire.
That’s why I made them vampires, because it’s so hard to imagine the longevity of time of being immortal. In a sense, that’s what love is like for me. When you start loving someone, you start this new life.
The concept of vampirism that you’re expected to not change at all—to just be this bloodsucker. But because I also wanted to look at the humanism, I asked: “What makes us human?” Ultimately, that’s grieving and loving, so I laced it together with being a vampire.
Well, the fantasy genre has a reputation of being so far away from human stories, but I feel very close to the characters. Even if these are creatures beyond our imagination or at least our reality, did you want the audience to still find the human parts of them? Like… parang ako lang! (She’s just like me!)
RM: Yun din ‘yun kung bakit gusto ‘ko tong gawin! It’s my attempt to make something personal, universal. Gusto kong iparating sa ibang tao na: “Is this what it feels like for you too?”
That’s why I wanted to do this too! It’s my attempt to make something personal, universal. I wanted to convey this to other people: “Is this what it feels like for you too?”
Yeah, that’s so wonderful. It’s a way for a filmmaker to connect with the audience. Even if you feel that your story is individual, it can resonate with many people—
RM: With queer people! Alam mo na yan!
With queer people! You already know!
FOOTNOTE on Raia Miranda’s ‘hundreds of year(ning)s’
“When you start loving someone, you start this new life. ”
—Raia Miranda
I hope you enjoyed reading through our conversation because besides Raia being a wonderful filmmaker, she is a person that I can look to for good conversation about film, laughs, or academic rants. With ‘hundreds of year(ning)s’, she has achieved creating a narrative that transcends time, mortality, and above all, the sapphic yearning experience. Notably, ‘hundreds of year(ning)s’ also garnered the award for Notable Recognition for Poster Design.
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Joaquin Sayo as Anton in ‘to drown a fish’. Taken from Hanns (@hwpscheewe), the director’s official X (formerly known as Twitter) account.
to drown a fish (2023)
Dir. Hanns Scheewe
Hanns Scheewe is the writer and director of ‘to drown a fish’, a short film following a college student waiting to graduate who is confronted with the loss of his mother, and in the process of coping, turns to adopt a fish. This grief leads to a transformation, both emotional and physical—with his body morphing into something resembling physical traits typical of fish.
Hanns is also a member of UP Cinema, a student film organization, and part of Floor21, a local film collective. You can also find him on Facebook (Hanns Scheewe), Instagram (@hanns_scheewe), and X (formerly Twitter) (@hwpscheewe).
I had a talk with him a few days after Black Beret, despite both of our busy schedules. Here was our laid-back conversation about ‘to drown a fish’:
Still from ‘to drown a fish’.
So, ‘to drown a fish’ follows Anton who adopts a pet fish. It’s a clever play on grief and on dealing with otherworldly things that are happening to him—which could be a metaphor for something. I found the shot of Anton in the rain really interesting, but the camera was focused on a single puddle. In that shot, the ripples are distorting his reality. I took note of that because it was really interesting. It could have just been a cool shot, but could it have been tied to the story of his reality distorting with loss and loneliness?
Then, it took a very interesting shift. It became body horror, like when he was growing gills and fins. What was the story behind that plot point? Why did you take this sudden, horrific shift in the film?
HS: Well, actually, the rain was tied to multiple things. It was tied to the plot shift at that point. The major catalyst was the loss of his mother, which was kind of revealed in that shot.
Another reason for that shot was that I did not want to shoot a funeral scene with a lot of extras because of the lack of time. And I could do it this way, especially with the rain. There’s a water element visible in almost every part of the film, in audio or visual. I found that the distorting and the rippling, it was a metaphor for all the changes in Anton.
With the body horror, in the original script and when we shot it, it was supposed to be more spread out in the story and more gradual. But, when we got to the edit, it felt a bit off. It didn’t connect well. We reordered it and it got pushed towards the later parts of the film. The first part already had some body horror—the gills in the mirror.
We changed the sequencing quite a bit in post(-production).
Would you say that the story changed a lot in post?
HS: I wouldn’t say that. We made it more loyal to the script at the start.
Because of what we got from the shoot, we didn’t have enough material, especially for the end sequence with the glowing fish before the final shots. That was a completely separate pick-up shoot. Where we were like, “Oh, yeah! Let’s go shoot this some day when we’re all free.” The film felt so lacking at that point still. It was somewhat in the original script but we did not have any time to shoot it during the actual shooting days.
You mentioned the last sequence, I was quite moved by the last few shots. With this loss in this life… I remember that I noted on my phone in all capital letters, “The mom died!” because it wasn’t that direct in the first few parts of the film. Like, this guy looks like he’s going through something, he’s disconnected from his peers, he’s graduating…
I remember that there was a comment he got from his family member that he is indeed delayed, and it got a reaction from the audience.
HS: (laughing) Definitely not based on personal experience.
I was there during the Q&A and the hosts asked the directors if there were personal experiences that you all rooted from as a filmmaker. And you talked about how your family loves fish, your family has a lot of fish at home—which is really interesting!
I interpreted the fish as— Because he bought a new fish, is it a metaphor for a new life upon the loss of another one? This new fish alongside his transformation into this otherworldly fish species—was it pointing to how grief can take you places where you can’t even imagine?
HS: I don’t want to give that away.
Well, with buying the new fish, it was kind of like that. In the space of the loss, it was not just the fish, but the loss of the person.
The good thing about stories based on visuals is a lot of them can be interpreted as a piece of moving art, not in the traditional sense of a narrative film. It’s less traditional in a sense that the film had almost no dialogue, and that was brought up in the talkback.
I love purely visual film projects. Did you have any visual inspirations for the film? As for me, the film had notes reminiscent of melancholic cinema.
HS: Better Days, the 2019 Chinese film was one of the inspirations for this. Three Colors: Blue, everything is blue—I love that film, and So We Put Goldfish in the Pool. Those were inspirations.
But visually, a lot of it came from my background in digital and traditional 3D art.
That’s interesting. What kind of art did you do?
HS: Before I shifted to film, I did a lot of traditional and photo manipulation art which gave me my background in VFX as well.
Were you fine arts?
HS: Before, yes.
But leading up to the film, I hated the notion of being the “guy who only does VFX.” I felt like I was being typed like that. I kept on doing these effects for these films and there’s so much more that could be done. It’s not just background cleanup or whatever, it can be used to tell a story.
I told myself that, instead of denying it, I embraced that I liked these visual elements that can’t exist in the real world. I shouldn’t limit myself from doing that, I should do it if I want to. This film was an acceptance of part of my artistic identity.
That’s nice that you can have that kind of discovery in making a film. As you create film and art, a lot of it comes from your personal experiences, what you encounter, what you like, and what you dislike—art can be an amalgamation of all that.
HS: With this class, I wanted to treat it as an experiment to see what I like doing for future work. I was looking through my notes the other day when I started planning for this project, I remembered that I should try a lot of new stuff to see what works. A lot of this is experimentation with myself and my crew.
What’s one thing the readers of this article take away from to drown a fish or from you?
HS: From me first, in the end, as viewers of Beret, we all remember that these are still student films. We’re still trying to explore and still trying to learn.
It’s crazy because I don’t know any other course where you share your work with hundreds for a final film project. I think contextualization is important too.
For to drown a fish, when I was talking about this with my brother, one of the main themes was isolation, and my brother and I both live far away from our families, I wanted it to be a film that was open to those who watch, how they would see it and apply it to their lives.
Thank you so much for the interview! I want to congratulate you again, that was visually stunning. That last sequence especially, I sat in my seat and I was so… (silence) you, know?.
HS: I was so bitter that the blue turned almost white in the projector, so I was like, “No!”
FOOTNOTE on Hanns Scheewe’s ‘to drown a fish’
“In the space of loss, it was not just the loss of a fish, but the loss of a person.”
-Hanns Scheewe
In an otherworldly transformation from delayed human student to delayed human-fish student, ‘to drown a fish’ was an interesting way to tell the universal experience of grief in such a unique, visually gripping manner. The film was also awarded the Notable Recognition in Film Scoring.
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CLOSING THOUGHTS
Well, you made it this far! Thank you for reading through my exchanges with these three wonderful student filmmakers.
And of course, support for student filmmakers extends beyond the boundaries of this article or student spaces, but throughout communities and hopefully, film and art institutions that should be championing the youth that is responsible for continuing the magic contained in the black box sanctuaries we call, “sinehan” (movie theaters).
Support, love, cherish, and celebrate student filmmakers, always!
