A bittersweet lament, a lyrical tone poem, a fanged commentary on the loss of childhood innocence in the throes of a destructive urban lure. Mes De Guzman skilfully weaves small moments of carefree joy and happiness amid unwanted tragedies, creating a cinematic experience that hits home. Partnered with the photographic beauty of mountains, pirouetting clouds, and rural calmness that seemed to provide a heaven-in-Earth atmosphere in an almost bleak, poverty-line state of condition that people confront in their everyday situation, Sa Kanto ng Ulap At Lupa offers a visual spectacle that’s hypnotic and beautiful, brooding and poignant, something that sweeps us all along and fades in the moroseness of tragedy and bleak promises. I love how the films ends there, hanging, in captivity—thick fog covering the mountaintops, kids waltzing in the fields in an attempt to get to the high of false nirvana. Beautiful, disparaging, hallucinatory, all at once. Rating: 4.5/5

A bittersweet lament, a lyrical tone poem, a fanged commentary on the loss of childhood innocence in the throes of a destructive urban lure. Mes De Guzman skilfully weaves small moments of carefree joy and happiness amid unwanted tragedies, creating a cinematic experience that hits home. Partnered with the photographic beauty of mountains, pirouetting clouds, and rural calmness that seemed to provide a heaven-in-Earth atmosphere in an almost bleak, poverty-line state of condition that people confront in their everyday situation, Sa Kanto ng Ulap At Lupa offers a visual spectacle that’s hypnotic and beautiful, brooding and poignant, something that sweeps us all along and fades in the moroseness of tragedy and bleak promises. I love how the films ends there, hanging, in captivity—thick fog covering the mountaintops, kids waltzing in the fields in an attempt to get to the high of false nirvana. Beautiful, disparaging, hallucinatory, all at once. Rating: 4.5/5

1 year ago