REVIEW: 'Isang Himala' is a miraculous musical
Forty-two years after setting the standard for Philippine cinema, Himala’s tale of faith healer Elsa and the miracle-chasing denizens of Cupang return, reimagined, by way of award-winning director Pepe Diokno’s Isang Himala.
Based on the 2003 musical written by the original film's screenwriter Ricky Lee, Isang Himala features multiple alumni of the play’s 2018 production, including Aicelle Santos in the role of Elsa, and Bituin Escalante as her adoptive mother, Aling Saling.
When Elsa sees a vision of the Virgin Mary during a solar eclipse, the people of Cupang are quick to capitalize on the young woman’s divine encounter. By the time Elsa is established as a faith healer, the once-sleepy village is inundated with guests hoping to experience God’s power for themselves. As the crowds increase, previously unheard-of incidents of alcoholism, prostitution, gambling, rape—even murder—threaten to turn Cupang upside down. When tragedy strikes Elsa and her friend Chayong (Neomi Gonzales), the newly-minted celebrity will need to decide if the cost of her precious fame is worth the price of her soul.
Where the original Himala’s arid vistas begat interpretations that Cupang represented Purgatory, the new film embraces the musical’s stage-bound nature; multiple shots of computer-generated skies aside, the production retains a deliberately theatrical aesthetic throughout. From the indoor sets and barely-moving vehicles to the deliberately posed tableaus of villagers awaiting their cues in every establishing shot, we are never allowed to forget that we’re watching a play. In eschewing the larger canvas afforded by the big screen, the story unambiguously exists in its own reality—thus, we don’t just observe Diokno’s Cupang, so much as we inhabit it alongside Elsa and her ilk.
Speaking with PhilSTAR L!fe at the press launch, Diokno shared that, “Himala: Ang Isang Musical is my favorite Filipino musical…watching Aicelle and the cast was the most moving, most visceral experience I've ever had in the theater. So to take that into film, I wanted to share that same experience with audiences.”
The upside of the approach is that we, as the audience, get to concentrate on experiencing each musical number from, essentially, the best seats in the house. As shot by cinematographer Carlo Mendoza (who also worked on Diokno’s GomBurZa), and featuring audio recorded live on-set, the songs that made the 2018 stage production so memorable are rendered here in all of their glory, for better or worse. While the theatrical nature of the presentation may be a stylistic choice, and the actors uniformly excellent, concessions could have been made for the cinematic format, as each song is rendered at full performance level, aiming for the cheap seats that—as previously mentioned—don’t exist.
These songs have survived the translation mostly intact, adding previously-unspoken layers to Lee’s original screenplay, and allowing familiar characters to resonate in new and unexpected ways. Of these, cabaret owner Nimia (Kakki Teodoro) gets perhaps the biggest upgrade—from her showstopping introductory number to a poignant conversation over a dear friend’s grave, Isang Himala invites into these characters’ heads like never before. Ironically, the role of Orly (David Ezra), the documentarian of questionable ethics, is seemingly reduced in the run-up to the film’s iconic climax.
The final scene, which has been referenced, emulated, and parodied ad nauseam, has lost none of its relevance, none of its power to move. Regardless of how many times we’ve seen or heard Aunor’s iconic monologue, the moment Santos launches into the first verse of “Walang Himala,” it becomes well and truly hers. Affecting to the core, the feelings that this sequence brings forth are chilling as they are awe-inspiring.
Santos told L!fe that stepping into Elsa’s shoes was endlessly daunting, despite having previously portrayed the role on stage. “Performing Elsa in 2018, 2019, it took many performances before I found Elsa…for the film, Direk Pepe is very collaborative, and sometimes he would suggest something I never saw, and when we would do the take, It would feel right, like a new rediscovery of Elsa, so it was fun to shoot.”
What follows Elsa’s immortal words is a pandemonium of a scale that Bernal could have only dreamed of, as the studio setting allows Diokno to orchestrate mayhem that an outdoor location may have rendered impractical. Here, under a blatantly digital sky, and with magnificent choral accompaniment, the consequences of blind faith are laid bare, exacerbated by the evils of self-delusion, lust, and greed. It’s tragic, heartbreaking, and, utterly devastating.
Over four decades, Lee’s deconstruction of Philippine society is as potent as ever—it’s a message that is as unflattering as it is necessary, and Diokno, Santos, et al. rise to the challenge of updating it for modern audiences. While one longs for a time when such works will no longer be unnecessary, it’s endlessly humbling to admit that we haven’t quite gotten there yet.
Thank goodness for reminders like this. Thank Heaven for Isang Himala.
