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"The ideal video camera is something that you can plug in your brain and will record everything that you see." So says 23-year old Khavn De La Cruz, a video camera artist whose film ALAALA NG MADALING-ARAW (MEMORY OF DAWN) won the Bronze Award in the 19th Tokyo Video Festival.
Picked from a pool of 1,947 entries from 36 countries, ALAALA weaves images of the artist's family and personal life with a strong, if not sad, narrative thread. Khavn gives us images of the day that transpired: his mother preparing merienda, his sister playing with her infant son, his brother-in-law and himself picking up his sister from school. In the end, though, his reminiscences take him well into the dawn, when he finds it difficult to sleep.
In concise, poetic narration, Khavn takes us deep into the psyche of a young artist. The images shift quickly, like someone whose gaze flutters from one interesting item to another. The language is direct without being hip-smart, simple without being droll. This approach gives the film the quality of a dream.
"ALAALA started with the concept of a man who couldn't sleep because he reflected on the day that had passed," says the Quezon City-based artist. "The images I picked, however, were spontaneous, they came from my subconscious." This is in line with his approach to "shoot whatever I see." He explains: "The visuals weren't scripted. I picked images on the spot, like a Garfield on a scooter, a poster of Dragonball Z (referring to some shots in another film 5 SHORTS). The 'vagueness' becomes concretized by the things around you. I think of it as capturing the moment."
Khavn started filmmaking when he was in 3rd year college at the Ateneo de Manila University. "I was enrolled in Kidlat Tahimik's class. The best thing that I learned from him is that a filmmaker doesn't have to wait for a 16mm to create a piece. He can tell his story using a handycam. And that's the point, really, of my work: I tell stories." |
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Kamias is a green sour fruit. It is also the road where I live. This is what the video camera remembers. My amnesia lies in between.
“Kamias” weaves images of the artist's family and personal life with a strong, if not sad, narrative thread. Khavn gives us images of the day that transpired: his mother preparing merienda, his sister playing with her infant son, his brother-in-law and himself picking up his sister from school. His reminiscences take him well into the dawn, when he finds it difficult to sleep. In concise, poetic narration, Khavn takes us deep into the psyche of a young artist. The images shift quickly, like someone whose gaze flutters from one interesting item to another. The language is direct without being hip-smart, simple without being droll. This approach gives the film the quality of a dream. (Vincenz Serrano)
A collection of vignettes that Khavn spliced together into a full-length feature that he named Kamias, after the road in Quezon City where his family lives. There are moments of great poignancy, as when his family is forced to give up their backyard to utility men encroaching on behalf of the electric company. The typical chaos of Quezon City — the harsh daylight, the heavy traffic and the endless drilling on the streets — is accompanied by Filipino poetry as recited by its author, Khavn, like the ghost of a failed suitor lamenting the deformed true love that is his neighborhood. (Ricky Torre)
Kamias 1: Memory Of Dawn [Alaala Ng Madaling-Araw], Bronze Award, 19th Tokyo Video Festival, 1997
Kamias 2: The Electric Company’s Gonna Get Our Backyard [Kukunin Na Ng Meralco Ang Likod Namin], Experimental Video Award, 13th Philippine Independent Film Festival, 2000
"This is the portrait of the artist's family. We are introduced to his elder sister, mother, the baby, and his brother-in-law. It is now time before dawn, and as always these days, he is unable to get to sleep. The confused images on the screen have a strange power to them and effectively convey to viewers the inner life of the filmmaker."
Hiroshi Minami, 19TH TOKYO VIDEO FESTIVAL
A resident’s lament.
I was assigned to fetch my sister from the church. It’s evening. Waiting for a jeep. The choir is practicing some musical. Playing pingpong etcetera. Walking to the main road. Going home.
a. Darkest Night On A Sunny Day It’s so sunny, yet inside me it’s so dark. I remember the night.
b. Rain Rain Go Away It’s raining and I’m sick in bed. I grab a guitar and sing so that the rain leaves.
c. Sunday
It’s Sunday and my parents aren’t home; just us siblings. Kids are playing outside. Chickens.
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