Filipino filmmaker Antoinette Jadaone returns to the Udine Far East Film Festival after her 2011 mockumentary ”Six Degrees of Separation from Lilia Cuntapay” and her 2021 film ”Fan Girl”. Her body of work has been steadily veering towards darker and more socially relevant themes, and her new project “Sunshine” is a striking j’accuse directed at Filipino society.
Sunshine is screening at Far East Film Festival
Sunshine (Maris Racal) is a schoolgirl and a gymnast, training for the SEA Games — the competition that can pave the road to the Olympics. She is talented and committed, but a sudden episode of dizziness and fainting makes her realize she has missed her last period. Panic strikes, and a hurried trip to the pharmacy for a pregnancy test confirms the hard truth: she is pregnant. A whirlwind of confused thoughts crowds her mind: she doesn’t want to be a mother, she’s too young, and she has an important competition ahead and she could miss the opportunity of her life. She also lives with her single-mum sister and brother, and she knows well how difficult is to rise a child without support of a big or wealthy family. To make things worse, the boy (Elijah Canlas) who got her pregnant refuses to take any responsibility and urges her to get rid of the baby.
The Philippines, being a deeply Catholic country, forbids abortion in all cases — even after rape or when the mother’s life is at risk — and Sunshine cannot confide her situation or her thoughts without risking stepping into illegal territory. As a dire consequence of this prohibition, a black market for abortions – and dubious products meant to induce them – thrives. Around the infamous Quiapo Church in Manila — home to the Black Nazarene, a dark statue of Jesus believed to be miraculous — hundreds of makeshift market stalls sell all sorts of amulets and quack remedies to induce menstruation and end unwanted pregnancies. It is there that Sunshine buys a potion which, instead of helping her, only makes her so sick that she ends up in hospital.
With her secret exposed, the adults around her do not hold back from preaching. A senior doctor in the maternity ward lectures her on the goodness of Jesus; her (now ex) boyfriend’s father, a pastor, offers to pay for the child’s education; her best friend’s mother forbids her daughter from even speaking to Sunshine. Only her sister remains firmly by her side — along with a mysterious little girl (Annika Co) who seems to shadow Sunshine, pushing her to reflect deeply on every aspect of her situation.
Antoinette Jadaone, who scripted and directed “Sunshine“, goes straight to the point in her visceral new film. The deeply unjust and unequal situation that women face in the Philippines is at the center of her exposé. Bigotry, fanaticism, and prejudice make for a – literally – deadly combination. Not content with addressing abortion as a woman’s right to make decisions over her own body, Jadaone also throws into the mix several other correlated hot topics and social comments: the extremely poor hospital facilities and chaotic maternity wards, the ignorance that thrives in disadvantaged communities in the Manila slums, and the leniency towards rape within families (there is a gut-wrenching side story related to this matter in the film). So much so that the film in some parts looks like a hybrid docufiction.
All these threads are not developed enough and tend to slightly slow down and clutter the central part of the script. However, the beauty of “Sunshine” lies in its raw and emotional tone of voice. What Jadaone wanted to say has been said loud and clear, and the visual language she uses is a sort of Filipino pop-realism: unsophisticated, colorful, melodramatic, and instinctive. Some cringe-inducing scenes — like the sermon of the anti-abortion doctor and the do-goodism of the pastor father of the boy — resonate strongly for how typically they depict these kinds of situations. Although there are some graphic moments that are bound to make women shiver, Jadaone gracefully avoids showing the predictable end, choosing instead to only suggest it. Maris Racal goes from radiant to miserable in a blink of an eye, and carries the film on her shoulders without a moment of rest, delivering a performance of great commitment, also marked by its intense physicality.
Despite several flaws, “Sunshine” is a heartfelt film and delivers its necessary message with clarity.
