This is not about Khavn dela Cruz
This is not an article about Khavn dela Cruz. This is more of a meditation about the independent Filipino filmmaker whose specialty is presenting the gloriousness of gore, as well as the goriness of ordinary existence. More of a roll call of the magnificent misfits in his films — the Greaseman that cometh, the G-stringed rainbow warriors, visitor X (portrayed by Lav Diaz) walking the earth like Solomon Grundy with a bloody crotch, or the revelers eating hot rats for pulutan in an overdosed nightmare on probably a street in Kamias — all of those nasty buggers. And more of a love letter to the gorgeous darknesses that bedevil his work — from unflinching slum opera of Squatterpunk to the unnerving subversion of The Family That Eats Soil to the other flicks that deal with experiences that spew forth from the fringes. For they are legion.
The man is tireless. The man who has created innumerable films that begin with the warning “This is not a film by Khavn dela Cruz” (like the admonition that decorate Dante’s gates of inferno) is in Europe, making the country proud with his genius. He is currently in the Netherlands for the 39th International Film Festival Rotterdam (IFFR), along with other Filipino filmmakers such as Raya Martin, Raymond Red and Sari Lluch Dalena, among others.
Khavn is presenting his feature film titled Cameroon Love Letter (For Solo Piano), his contribution to the IFFR 2010’s focus program on African cinema billed as “Forget Africa.” (Directors involved with the scheme include Khavn, Malaysia’s Tan Chui Mui, and American filmmakers Kimi Takesue and Deborah Stratman.) After its world premiere, the movie makes its Scandinavian premiere at the Goteborg International Film Festival.
As the program says, “(Khavn dela Cruz) films like a jazz musician. His camera is a solo instrument and everything around him is part of his band. He started filming even before he passed immigration control at Yaoundé airport, and during his stay in Cameroon he didn’t really stop. It’s clear that Khavn’s film acquired its final form only after the wild filming in Cameroon.”
He explores Cameroon by putting “some real soap into the story” — something that has to do with the surreal fact that the Filipino soap opera Pangako Sa ’Yo is popular in Cameroon. In Khavn’s film two long letters tell the story, while a continuous piano piece played live by Dela Cruz (gutsy, indeed) fastens the narrative, the images together.
He is also screening his short documentary titled Ultimo: Distintas maneras a matar un héroe nacional, which is under the festival’s “After Victory” program of films about the consequences of warfare.
The man is tireless. The devils are always at play.
It was a hell of a time to shoot in Cameroon, Khavn explained while we were having beer at Mogwai. “Bihira nagshu-shoot doon eh — sisitahin ka ng pulis maski may permit ka, sisingilin ka na nga mga tao.”
He stayed there for 10 days, shooting gonzo-style on the streets of Cameroon with IFFR programmer Gertjan Zuilhof. “One of Gertjan’s main goals was to discover new African filmmakers. Kasi sa world cinema map, may konting pangalan lang na paulit-ulit.” Strangely at that, considering this day and age of digital revolution where everyone with a camera or a cell phone can make a film.
Khavn is also putting the finishing touches on Mondomanila, an adaptation of a Palanca-winning novel by Norman “Iwa” Wilwayco. Palito and Whitney Tyson are reportedly part of the cast. That’s mental.
“Matagal na siyang proyekto. Kulang-kulang seven years na siya sa akin.”
KHAVN’S CANNED THOUGHTS
In the course of the evening, Khavn (pronounced as “Khaun” in Eastern Europe, which makes you think of Transylvanian train rides, gothic castles and dark lords) would drink bucketfuls of beer, as well as share lore about Weng Weng (how the future Agent 00’s mom would dress him up in Sto. Niño attire) and tips on where to get hold of obscure Filipino B-movies.
Khavn also traced how he came to be, well, Khavn. “I grew up on Lito Lapid and Jun Aristorenas movies, as well as Pinoy comic books. When I was in grad school, I told my cousin, ‘Magbabasa ako ng komiks hanggang mamatay ako!’ Binibili ko lahat, iba’t-ibang genres.”
One of his favorite stories involves a prince from a faraway land marrying a beautiful maiden. “Honeymoon nila, tapos biglang may narinig na sigaw mula sa kuwarto nila. Aaaaahh! Ang last frame, ’yung prinsipe suot ’yung suso ng babae. Wazak!!!”
That could be a Khavn dela Cruz moment on celluloid.
Dela Cruz remembers his first film that was featured in an international festival. “It was Alaala ng Madaling Araw in Tokyo, ’97. Medyo autobiographical, tungkol sa isang insomniac.”
He started entertaining the possibility of becoming a filmmaker after watching Joey Agabayani’s short film titled Kidlat about a journalist interviewing a politician. During the course of the conversation, the reporter’s pencil would become big, small, crooked, straight — Khavn described it as “parang ilong ni Pinocchio.” The tale unfolds weirdly. There is even found footage incorporated into the film.
It ends like this: The pencil flies and turns into a giant stake and strikes the politician on the chest.
It was a eureka moment for Khavn, or something that struck Paracelsus as he peered into his potions. From then on, Dela Cruz found filmmaking to be like an extension of his poetry.
His goal then was to make a short film before he dies. He even studied under the legendary Kidlat Tahimik. He recalled, “The most important thing that Kidlat imparted to me was (in forming my own) worldview. Not the technical stuff. Kaya hindi rin ako technical na tao.”
Khavn’s first camera was a bulky Sony home video camera. He was still using it up to ’99 until it got stolen. He bought a Canon XL1, until it got lost again. It was followed by a small Panasonic, which he used in Cameroon. For other shoots, Khavn borrows from other filmmakers.
“The first short film I did was called Burol, which is about how I want my funeral to be. Kinumpara ko ’yung buhay ng tao sa langgam tsaka sa ipis. Parang may banat na Stephen Covey na ‘Imagine your wake’ (laughs).”
No actors in this lost opus. Just random people and cockroaches playing themselves. From then on he kept shooting. And the rest as they say is — if we were to state it in Khavn’s world — not history.
Today, retrospectives of Khavn’s features and short films have been presented in Italy, Spain and the Czech Republic; his shorts have been showcased in Brazil, Germany, Australia, Slovenia and the Netherlands. His self-styled “non-films” have been shown in Berlin, Egypt, Tehran, New York, Vienna, Hamburg, Montreal and cities in South America.
And, dig this, he has managed to make films with almost-zero budget involved. “Kung gusto mong gumawa ng pelikula, eh di gumawa ka ng pelikula. Kung gusto mong gumawa ng Moulin Rouge, Avatar o Titanic — kailangan mo ng pera (laughs). Pero puwede mo pa ring i-express sarili mo, maski wala kang pera. Makakagawa ka pa rin ng art. Hindi excuse ’yung wala kang pera.”
He has shot day-old flicks involving celebrities, non-actors, neighbors and relatives — half of his filmography was shot this way. His weirdest so far?
“The latest one, Mondomanila,” he answered. This film is a combination of the things the filmmaker has done in the past. “Iba’t-ibang pelikula, iba’t-ibang aesthetics. In Mondomanila, several of the film styles from my previous works appeared.”
How has he able to resist mainstream offers (say, a job offer to direct a new soap opera featuring Dingdong and Marian) all these years?
“Wala namang offers na kailangang i-resist (laughs). My reputation precedes me.”
But this year the man is all set to independently release 30 DVDs of his oeuvre, with an American distributor involved. But if you think this would institutionalize a blasphemer like Khavn, you have been watching too much Star Cinema schlock.
In the works is a movie, a collaboration with a Danish filmmaker tentatively titled Son of God, which is about a midget who is a cult leader and psychic surgeon. The shoot will start on Quiapo Day. Khavn and crew will travel from Kamias to Banahaw’s mystic mountain. The shoot will end on the Sinulog in Cebu. This may be Khavn dela Cruz’s Holy Mountain. Another future film is said to be inspired by tarot cards and Jojo Legaspi’s art. More bubonic snacks in the offing.
After watching one of Khavn’s “filmless” films you will be left wordless, maybe a bit rudderless. Cinema, the outside world, that consciousness living inside a decaying container of flesh and hair, all have suddenly become most peculiar. This is not a joke, and — believe me — this was not an article about Khavn dela Cruz.
* * *
For information about the filmmaker’s movies on DVD, e-mail oracafe@rocketmail.com, or visit his website www.khavndelacruz.com.
