‘When The Waves Are Gone’ REVIEW: Lav’s Return to Film
‘When The Waves Are Gone’ REVIEW: Lav’s Return to Film
Behind-the-scenes documentation of Lav Diaz’s When The Waves Are Gone featuring John Lloyd Cruz as Hermes Papauran and Shamaine Buencamino as Nerissa Papauran. Picture taken from the Epicmedia website.
Some spoilers for ‘When The Waves Are Gone’ below.
I feel very emancipated by the freedom that digital gives the filmmaker… the economic side of it up to the thing that you can do. It’s unlimited. I’m not saying that I’m not going to do celluloid anymore, if there’s money, yes, but if there’s no money then you have to appropriate your condition, you have to adjust to that. – Lav Diaz
Much has been said about Lav Diaz’s cinematic powers as a living counterculture. His penchant for slow, static cinema; the riveting combination of domestic politics and Russian literature; an identity defined by the rejection of industry standards. With When The Waves Are Gone, he sort of deviates a little bit from this with the inclusion of two things: a 3-hour run time, which is rather short for a Lav Diaz picture, and the implementation of 16mm film. It’s an interesting creative decision that, for reasons to be detailed later, leaves this film having quite an impressive aftertaste.
Lav Diaz’s return to film sees one of his grimiest, darkest creations in When The Waves Are Gone, an absurdist presentation of the decay of man and masculinity early in the Duterte administration. It centers around John Lloyd Cruz’s Lt. Hermes Papauran, an academy instructor and police investigator whose act of extrajudicial violence one night causes him to experience physical decay in the form of psoriasis. His perils aren’t helped by the return of a former colleague and disgraced mentor in Ronnie Lazaro’s Supremo Macabantay, whose aim is to seek revenge for an investigation gone awry.
An unknown figure runs down a smoky alleyway. Still taken from the official trailer on Facebook.
For a Lav Diaz short, When The Waves Are Gone manages to extract a succinct description of how far any man, ambivalent or absolute, falls in the throes of fascist rule. Despite carrying a close relationship with Raffy Lerma, the photographer known for taking the “La Pieta” photo associated with EJKs during Duterte’s rule, Hermes’ inability to devote himself to morally upright justice gives way to the skin disease that slowly rots and consumes him. It’s a display of resistance and corruption that is akin to the criticism of hypermasculinity made stronger with the presence of Duterte in power. Notwithstanding this fact is the introduction of Supremo, a Jehovah’s Witness-peddling, self-righteous Sergeant who once taught the famed Lieutenant. In some ways, Ronnie Lazaro’s character feels like a satire of Pastor Apollo Quiboloy, with how his demeanor feels as righteous as his devotion to religion is. There’s quite an absurd angle with how the two of them interact, especially when the film has them communicating through these ritualistic dances that deconstruct and debilitate their hypermasculinity–by extension, authority. It must be said that the story takes a bit of a gamble in the process of introducing these two, but despite its misgivings in the first hour, the film manages to work their stories in.
Throughout the saga, the film details how corrupt good intentions truly are for people who’ve lived or worked within the confines of authority. With Hermes, he commits acts of extrajudicial violence despite the self-awareness that his fellow policemen are ordered to do the same, like sheep. In Supremo, his quest to avenge his massacred family comes with the context that Supremo, himself, is the perpetrator of various state-sponsored killings and massacres during his time in the force. Despite the awareness that these two have of their own country’s systematic corruption, it’s quite clear that the audience is never told to cheer for either one of them. The transgressions both Hermes and Supremo go through are more emblematic of a larger disease. In fact, the film’s grueling conclusion appropriately directs the audience to this concern in a way that makes the film a little more harrowing and concise than Lav’s more recent outing, Historya ni Ha.
With this movie being shot on 16mm film, it sees Lav return to a technical medium that he hasn’t used since the days of Batang West Side, all the way back in 2001. The film is much darker, moodier, and more contrasted than his digital works. The way the film grain manifests in this leaves a lot more impact on the audience. One particularly noteworthy scene to cite is where Supremo Macabantay leads a troupe of prostitutes up the stairs. The natural light beaming through the camera depicts the scene to be almost like a stairway to heaven, and Supremo playing the voice of God. There’s something immaculate about the way 16mm film here maximizes the aura of Lav’s characters, most especially the two leads mentioned.
Ronnie Lazaro as Hermes Papauran. Still taken from the official trailer on Youtube.
If anything, the most impactful thing about When The Waves Are Gone comes from Ronnie Lazaro’s performance as Supremo. More than his absurdities, Supremo feels like a coalesced version of the most radical aspects of Filipino society. Hyper-religious, righteous, violent, and vengeful. There’s a level of candor which Lazaro navigates through that also makes Supremo one of the most comically dark characters seen in Lav’s films, given how evocative and ridiculous some of his actions are. That’s a testament to Lazaro’s performance, being able to one-up John Lloyd (who also delivers his own) and the unconventionally short run-time this film has going against him. In a situation where a Lav film usually works with longer runtimes, the arcane nature of Supremo Macabantay delivers the film’s message the clearest way possible.
This is in spite of the jankiness of the first hour. Much of the film’s confusion comes from how odd its introduction feels, moreso with another minor plot detail that occurs right as the film reaches its climax. It’s a little uneasy to sit through, but the film eventually makes up for it with a riveting adventure in which one’s story of revenge and another’s pursuit of recovery intertwine in the most fascinating way possible. Much of the strangeness here paves way to an ending that is wicked, and certainly enjoyable all things considered.
As one of Lav’s two releases this year, (the other being A Tale of Filipino Violence) When The Waves Are Gone acknowledges the broken nature of masculinity and authority in the recently-concluded Duterte administration. It’s a story that is far from perfect, but one that illustrates its main points well enough that it pretty much stands out in Lav’s filmography, 16mm film and Ronnie Lazaro aside.
‘When The Waves Are Gone’ is part of QCinema 2022’s Special Screenings lineup. You can catch the next screening on November 26, 2022, at Gateway Cineplex.
