Call me Mother

Technical assessment:  3.5

Moral assessment:  3

CINEMA rating:  PG13

MTRCB rating:  PG 

Ang pelikula ay tungkol kay Twinkle De Guzman (Vice Ganda), isang mapagmahal at maalagaing "lalaking ina" sa kanyang ampong anak na si Angelo (Sean de Guzman). Pinalaki ni Twinkle si Angelo na parang tunay niyang anak, hanggang sa biglang bumalik ang Bianca (Nadine Lustre), ang tunay na ina ni Angelo, na nais makipagkonek muli sa bata. Dito magsisimula ang tensyon, ang pag-aagawan sa bata, ang paglalagay ng mga kondisyon upang magkasundo. 

Simple at hindi pilit ang direksiyon ng pelikula. Nangibabaw ang natural at makatotohanang pag-arte ng mga artista na kayang magpahayag ng damdamin kahit walang maraming salita. Ang mga closeup na kuha ng kamera ay tahimik, bagay na tumutulong upang maramdaman ng manonood ang bigat ng pinagdadaanan ng mga tauhan. Hindi rin sobra ang musika—ginamit lamang ito upang patindihin ang emosyon sa tamang sandali. Maaaring mabagal para sa ilan ang takbo ng pelikula, ngunit ang bagal na ito ang nagbibigay-lalim sa kuwento.  Marahil mas magiging convincing pa ang kuwento at ang pagganap ni Ganda kung hindi na ito hinaluan ng "signature taray" ng artista, at sa halip ay isinalarawan na lamang ng aktor ang isang seryoso at malumanay na karakter.   

Ang Call Me Mother ay isang paanyaya sa pagninilay tungkol sa habag, pananagutan, at pagmamahal na handang magsakripisyo. Ipinapaalala nito na ang pagiging ina ay hindi lamang sa dugo o są pagpapaanak, kundi sa araw-araw na pag-aaruga, presensya, at suporta sa bata, ano man ang kalagayan  sa buhay. Ipinakikita ng pelikula na ang pagiging ina—at pagiging pamilya—ay isang bokasyon: ang pagpili na magmahal, lalo na sa mga sugatan at iniwan ng mundo. Sa huli, sinasabi ng pelikula na ang tunay na paghilom ay nagsisimula kapag may isang taong handang patunayan, ang kanyang mga salitang “Nandito ako.” 

CAST AND CREW:  Director: Jun Robles Lana  Cast: Vice Ganda, Nadine Lustre, Lucas Andalio, Klarisse de Guzman, Mika Salamanca, Brent Manalo, Esnyr Ranollo River Joseph. Writers: Jun Robles Lana, Daisy G. Cayanan, Daniel S. Saniana — story and screenplay team.  Producers: Daniel S. Saniana, Marjorie B. Lachica, Vincent Del Rosario III, Veronique Del Rosario‑Corpus, Valerie S. Del Rosario. Music: Teresa Barrozo (composer) Cinematography: Carlo C. Mendoza. Editing: Benjamin Tolentino Production Companies: ABS‑CBN Studios (Star Cinema), The IdeaFirst Company, Viva Films.

 

Sunshine

The heroine is a young girl whose decision to abort is ultimately portrayed as a path to valid self actualization, supported by friends and family who simply “understand.”  (This review was first published in December 2025 in medium.com/cbcpcinema)

Technical assessment: 3.5

Moral assessment: 2

MTRCB rating: R-13

CINEMA rating: V16 

Sunshine (Maris Racal) is a talented gymnast dedicated in training for a shot at the Olympics. However, just two months before the crucial qualifiers, her dreams are threatened when she discovers she is pregnant. Her boyfriend (Elijah Canlas) initially rejects the pregnancy, pushing her toward desperate measures. Although he eventually offers support, Sunshine attempts to abort the baby but fails, resulting in her being rushed to the hospital and her condition discovered by her elder sister. The narrative complicates her journey with the presence of a "little girl"—a mysterious figure who reprimands and follows her throughout the film, acting as a manifestation of her conscience. Simultaneously, Sunshine crosses paths with a 13-year-old rape victim seeking help to terminate an unwanted pregnancy, a subplot that ends in complications. Despite the offer of support from her boyfriend and his father, Sunshine remains steadfast in her refusal to become a mother. In a heart-wrenching soliloquy performed while the “child” watches, she tearfully bids goodbye, claiming the child understands her mother’s dream. The film concludes with Sunshine stepping onto the mat, ready to perform her routine, having chosen her ambition over her child. 

The movie is notably well-written and well-paced, effectively building tension as the qualifiers approach and Sunshine wrestles with her moral dilemma. The performances are believable and relatable, grounding the high-stakes drama in human emotion. What is most commendable is the film’s editing. While Racal is no gymnast, the seamlessness of the cuts convinces the audience that she is executing the difficult routines herself. The technical team succeeds in merging the actor's performance with the physical demands of the role, ensuring the suspension of disbelief remains intact throughout the film. 

The initial reactions and confusion of Sunshine are understandable; she is young, determined, and suddenly facing a derailment of her life's ambition. The film utilizes the element of the unborn child—personified as the little girl—to externalize Sunshine's inner struggle. This creative choice allows the audience to see that, in her heart, she understands the gravity of her dilemma. However, the film’s handling of the pro-life argument leaves much to be desired. While the narrative briefly acknowledges that aborting a child deprives the community of a future productive member of society, this sentiment is delivered by a doctor portrayed as self-righteous and dismissive. By placing this truth in the mouth of an unlikable character, the film cheapens the argument for keeping the child, framing the defense of life as judgmental rather than compassionate or logical. 

The film presents a dangerous reference and model for our own youth. The heroine is a young girl whose decision to abort is ultimately portrayed as a path to valid self actualization, supported by friends and family who simply “understand.” This is particularly alarming given that the lead actress has a significant following among young people. By normalizing this choice and wrapping it in a package of “dream-chasing” and family support, the film risks influencing an impressionable audience to view the termination of life as an acceptable solution to personal hurdles. 

Ultimately, the film's resolution is deeply disturbing. While it posits Sunshine's final decision as a form of women’s empowerment—championing the idea that she has sole agency because it is “her body, her life”—this conclusion is morally unacceptable. It ignores the fundamental reality that it is no longer just her body involved; there is a distinct, separate life at stake. Setting aside the lens of faith, the movie treats the unborn child not as a human being with inherent dignity, but as an obstacle to be discarded for personal success. True empowerment cannot be built on the termination of the innocent. Perhaps, there is no other way to present this without proselytizing—hence, it is better that the audience be limited to mature adults with well-formed conscience. 

DIRECTOR: Antoinette Jadaone LEAD CAST: Maris Racal, Elijah Canlas, Jennica Garcia, Meryll Soriano SCREENPLAY: Antoinette Jadaone PRODUCED BY: Project 8 Projects, Spring Films CINEMATOGRAPHY: Tey Clamor EDITING: Benjamin Tolentino GENRE: Drama COUNTRY: Philippines DISTRIBUTED BY: NetflixRUNNING TIME: 118 minutes 

Quezon

 The film reveals itself not as a reflection of the past, but as a potent critique of the present.  (First published in November 2025 in medium.com)

Technical Assessment: 4

Moral Assessment: 3.5

MTRCB Rating: PG 13

CINEMA Rating: V14 (Note: Children are impressionable and might take the film as historical truth without returning to source information; it is best that they watch with an adult or be given a debriefing after.)

The movie revisits Manuel Quezon’s (Jericho Rosales) rise to the presidency, chronicling his political maneuvering during the American period. This includes his standoff with Governor-General Leonard Wood and his intense rivalry with Sergio Osmeña (Sarmienta) and Emilio Aguinaldo (Confiado). He is presented as a charismatic and sociable leader, his image bolstered by a propaganda film produced by his goddaughter, Nadia (Malvar), to aid his candidacy. However, a second, clandestine version of the film is produced by the disillusioned Joven (Villaflor), narrating the manipulations, deceptions, and ethical lines Quezon crossed to secure the Tydings-McDuffie Act and sabotage his rivals. Upon discovering this second version, Quezon merely taunts Joven, suggesting they are both opportunists. The outbreak of the Japanese war provides Quezon an excuse to seek a second term, recanting his promise to Osmeña, only to have his extended rule cut short by tuberculosis, culminating in his defiant cry from the Malinta Tunnel, “I am the Philippines!”

Quezon succeeds as an excellent piece of cinema, providing the right measure of entertainment and awe that compels the viewer to revisit a pivotal historical period. The craftsmanship is commendable: the production design effectively transports the audience to the era without resorting to exaggeration, while the dialogue remains crisp and witty. Jericho Rosales delivers a wonderful and believable performance as the titular figure, and the quiet, simmering exasperation of Romnick Sarmienta’s Osmeña is equally notable. However, a film’s most brilliant stroke is its narrative structure. By employing a non-linear timeline and a movie-within-a-movie treatment, it cleverly disassociates itself from being a mere historical narrative, allowing it to explore its subject with greater artistic freedom.

The film presents a complex moral landscape, anchored on the theme that ambition corrupts, and the end does not justify the means. No matter how noble the cinematic Quezon’s intentions are, his manipulation, deceit, and selfishness are not absolved; it serves as a potent reminder that while politics may be a game, servant-leadership remains the standard. This poses the question: what lines can be crossed to achieve a goal for the common good? It is natural to assume that even if one wants to be honest and upright, there are lines that will eventually be crossed. Yet, the film suggests this is permissible only if certain conditions are met: 1. Truth and integrity are not blurred; 2. The one crossing the line is not themselves corrupted by the act; and 3. The dignity and rights of other people are not violated.

Regarding the recent controversy involving the Quezon family’s reaction, their outburst is understandable — what family would welcome the perceived ruin of a respected ancestor? But this is precisely where the film places the greater responsibility: on the viewer. Critical thinking is paramount. The film is a film, and it must be primarily appraised on its own narrative and artistic merit. It never poses as a biography or a historical documentary and thus should not be taken as such. The onus is on the audience to return to their history lessons to vet the information presented, forcing them to ask: Are we not all opportunists who choose self-preservation and legacy, yet cry injustice when confronted with one who simply does it better? In this, the film reveals itself not as a reflection of the past, but as a potent critique of the present. — PMF

DIRECTOR: Jerrold Tarog; SCREENPLAY: Jerrold Tarog, Rody Vera; PRODUCED BY: Daphne O. Chiu-Soon; LEAD CAST: Jericho Rosales, Karylle, Mon Confiado, Arron Villaflor, Romnick Sarmenta, Cris Villanueva, JC Santos, Iain Glen; CINEMATOGRAPHY: Pong Ignacio; EDITING: Jerrold Tarog; MUSIC: Jerrold Tarog; GENRE: Epic Historical Drama; COUNTRY: Philippines; LANGUAGE: Filipino, English; DISTRIBUTED BY: TBA Studios; RUNNING TIME: 139 minutes