‘Moral’ REVIEW: A celebration of womanhood and its complexities
‘Moral’ REVIEW: A celebration of womanhood and its complexities
Moral (1982) is an important piece of the feminist art in the country. It is a daring portrait of four women, each navigating the Filipino working and domestic life through the prism of a patriarchal society. Writer Ricky Lee assiduously handles the lives of each of these women which are all portrayed with remarkable complexity. The woes of these women such as being able to be promiscuous without judgement, the desire to become successful in the entertainment industry, or the very valid feeling of competing with your mother-in-law, are all highlighted here and taken seriously.
As it is part of Director Marilou Diaz-Abaya’s loose trilogy of feminist films, which also includes Brutal (1980) and Karnal (1983), the film has no interest in portraying stereotypical concerns of women usually relegated to a subplot or a passing thought. Diaz-Abaya employs the novelistic style of Ricky Lee’s script and interrogates the gender issues of a country replete with turmoil. The film transitions to each narrative thread like a character point-of-view chapter and as the story keeps moving forward, the audience is rewarded with a surplus of rich and insightful lessons from the lives of these women.
Ricky Lee has also gone on record saying that the film is plotless by design; it is without any inciting incident or any explicit beginning, middle or end. It certainly helps that the astounding cast of Lorna Tolentino (Joey), Gina Alajar (Kathy), Sandy Andolong (Sylvia), and Anna Martin (Maritess) accentuate the buoyant and free-spirited nature of the script. They yearn for something more than the roles passed on to them in a suffocating Philippine society and the script efficiently portrays their problems thematically.
It’s a joy to watch the development of each character and every bit of their interactions. Their bond is all about shared experiences, and this bond between them is hard to break primarily because there is a recognition of their agency and desires. These kindred spirit connections are set in the backdrop of University of the Philippines during a time of heightened activism. These thematic decisions sharpen the blade of this film’s impact. Moral is both personal and expansive; it has a lot to say about the very relatable concerns of women as they trudge through the liminal stage of adulthood, but it also serves as a commentary about the moral flux and the suppressed voices back in the Martial Law era.
Joey is the Jo March stand-in of the bunch; an outspoken tomboy-like figure, but this time she is in love with an activist named Jerry who constantly rebuffs her. The other difference with her March sister counterpart is that she considers herself liberated for the simple reason that she is able to pursue wanton encounters with various men. However, even this liberation is eventually realized as only a mere illusion because she still cannot have the man that she truly loves and can never truly find meaning with the various men she meets. Moreover, she associates this flaw with her mother Maggie, played by legendary Filipino director Laurice Guillen, who has left her husband and found another man in the process. Their interactions say a lot in particular about the complexities of the relationship between an estranged mother and her daughter.
Joey also finds herself diametrically opposed to Nita, the true lover of Jerry, as she is both jealous and unable to see the merits of activism and fighting for causes that are independent of her own experiences. In the end, a shattering event develops the relationship between the two and Abaya masterfully lets them carry the scene through their raw emotions.
Kathy is a middling singer who provides sexual favors in the hopes that she one day becomes a star. There is a disconnect made known in her desire to become a successful singer because of the questionable methods she has used to get there. She scorns having to give sexual favors for her lesbian talent agent and an old manager. People aren’t appreciative of her labor and her talents; they only view her as a means to satiate their carnal desires.
This predicament makes Kathy feel unfulfilled, unable to reconcile the reality of her situation and her sparkling idealism. There’s a great scene shot by cinematographer Manolo Abaya (who is also Marilou’s husband) in which Kathy attempts to sing a song inside the studio and she feels disaffected and estranged. Without any words given to the audience, Manolo meticulously closes in on Kathy’s face and we are instantly made aware of the pain and tribulations that Kathy has undergone in her attempt to achieve her dreams.
Sylvia is a single mother trying to steer her new life and finding love once again. She juggles having to take care of her son while sharing custody with her ex-husband Robert who is now in the arms of another man named Celso. She attempts to move on and pursue other men but is hampered by the fleeting feelings she has for Robert. There’s also a great scene between her and a character named Mrs. Torres later on in the film that serves as a modicum of commentary regarding the unfairness of men and old age towards the collective of women. The 7-page scene culminates in Sylvia doing what has to be the most efficient, hilarious, and empowering break-up scenes in Philippine history. “Hello? Ernie? Putang ina mo!”
Maritess is a housewife who feels that her freedom is taken away as she rears children time and time again simply at her husband’s will. Her story arc tackles the very real issue of patricentric and traditional Filipino men who demand that their wives be submissive to them. Her husband, Dodo, and her extended family turn her into becoming a baby-maker and a feeble machine that is robbed of any meaningful agency. She is expected to settle down and stay at home, a role which she lets go in the hopes that she regains the ounce of agency she had prior to the marriage. Her story portrays how marriages in the Philippines can often become suffocating prison cells especially with the obliviousness of chauvinist husbands such as Dodo.
The film oscillates between each character and showcases how their stories are part of the shared pain and experiences that women go through. Frequently, the women are treated as ornaments; well-dressed, well-polished, and well-groomed, not for themselves, but for the men and the third-party figures in their lives. It also doesn’t shy away from exploring topics that were still taboo in the ‘80s such as Martial Law activism, marital rape, and homosexuality. The film brings the taboo out into the open so as to generate awareness and discussions that have long been draped under the shadows.
Moral acts as a revelation—it somehow manages to depict the previously hidden stories of Filipino women with such care and precision, never condescending, and never admitting to having any pretensions. Life will go on for these four women and it will remain uncertain and arduous. But, at least, even for a brief moment in the ending, it feels like they are finally content with where they are now and are driving towards a new path together.
The film also shines as it uses its story and characters to embroider its messages and themes fluidly into the societal issues at hand. The issues such as women's liberation, the right to their bodies, the double standards they have to face in a turbulent society, and of course, the hardships that they have to meet to navigate towards success and genuine happiness in life. These complex issues are unfortunately still relevant to society today and it says a lot about the film’s perennial quality. In this regard, Moral rightfully deserves its place as one of the best that Philippine cinema has to offer.
Moral is available on KTX for 99 PHP from April 1-2 and April 9-10, 2021.