Ang Hapis at HImagsik ni Hermano Puli dramatizes the life of Apolinario de la Cruz (Aljur Abrenica), the founder of the Confradia de San Jose, a religious order railing against the exclusionary policies of other Catholic religious orders. The film starts out in his childhood, and follows him into young adulthood as he puts together his religious organization. With his movement growing, he travels to Manila to further his religious studies and to seek legitimacy for his order. As an Indio, Hermano Puli faces plenty of opposition. He ruffles plenty of feathers, which soon lead him and his followers into acts of open revolt.
This film is deranged at times, and that would be a good thing if that were the point. But that doesn’t really seem to be the case. The way the film plays out, Hermano Puli is an untouchable hero, a paragon of virtue right up to the bitter end. It often lays down the foundation for interesting internal conflicts in his organization, a creeping sense of doubt that the man isn’t really all quite there. But as the film goes on, it starts to feel like those ideas were touched upon by accident. They don’t really pay off in meaningful ways, and the film ends up espousing a strange mysticism that inexorably leads to violence.
The film positions itself as an epic drama, a story of faith on the highest order, and heroism in the face of great oppression. But it arrives as oddly comedic, the tone so awkwardly broad that those themes simply don’t emerge. The film plays even the most minor events as moments of great importance, revealing another facet of beatific grace to its saintly subject. Everyone fawns over the hero, at times to an uncomfortable degree. This awkwardness is most evident in the non-starter of a romantic subplot, where the ostensible female lead musters up the courage to try and seduce the celibate Puli, who up to that point has mostly been taking advantage of her devotion to have her do his laundry.
The film is so tone deaf that it doesn’t seem to realize when its character’s behavior is bordering on horrific. It doesn’t have the people surrounding him ever expressing any doubt in the validity of what he’s saying and doing. The Confradia de San Jose comes off exactly like the villains of the piece describe it: a cult. The film becomes a portrait of fanaticism, but it doesn’t have the temerity or the self-awareness to call it that.
What results is something that feels unintentionally funny. The cracks in the production show all over the place. One of the actors, for example, can’t seem to decide if his Spanish character is going to lisp or not. In the lead role, Aljur Abrenica certainly seems committed, but like the rest of the film he can’t seem to decide on a particular approach. It’s a very outsized performance, the young actor leaving no room for nuance as he pretty much yells out every last thing the character is feeling.
And again, this might have all been okay if Hermano Puli was just a little more self-aware. It could certainly be argued that the film really is trying to be subversive, looking into the life of this purported hero and challenging the very concept of his rebellion. It could be intentionally trying to make him out to be crazier than your average historical figure. Heneral Luna certainly managed this to some great effect. But this film doesn’t possess the sophistication that would justify that kind of interpretation. It just feels ludicrous, and it doesn’t seem to know why.
My Rating:
