The tears started unexpectedly, around the thirty-five-minute mark. It was unsettling, even a little irritating, because nothing in the unfolding story mirrored my own life, or the lives of anyone I knew. Yet, Jun Robles Lana’sCall Me Motherhad somehow bypassed logic and struck a raw, emotional chord.
The film introduces us to Twinkle de Guzman, a celebrated “mother” in the world of beauty pageants, expertly guiding young women toward the crown. Vice Ganda embodies Twinkle with a captivating energy, a whirlwind of ambition and vulnerability. When tragedy strikes, Twinkle unexpectedly becomes a father, adopting his late mother’s ward and abruptly trading pageants for parenthood.
A chaotic, heartwarming scene – a frantic dash to the hospital after a near-disaster involving a pearl and a skateboard – instantly reveals the depth of Twinkle’s burgeoning love for the infant. He’s ill-equipped, unconventional, but utterly devoted. This sets the stage for a life built within the walls of a boarding house, surrounded by a found family as quirky as it is loving.
The dream of a better life, a chance to work abroad, hinges on legal adoption. This requires the cooperation of Angelo’s birth mother, Mara de Jesus, a former pageant hopeful played with striking nuance by Nadine Lustre. Mara, haunted by past failures, sees a path back to the crown, and a deal is struck: her signature for Twinkle’s parental rights.
The arrangement ignites Twinkle’s deepest fear – that a connection will blossom between Angelo and his birth mother, threatening the fragile family he’s built. The film masterfully explores the complexities of this dynamic, the delicate balance between obligation, desire, and the enduring power of maternal instinct.
Vice Ganda’s comedic brilliance is well-known, butCall Me Mothershowcases a dramatic range that is truly astonishing. It’s a performance born from a profound understanding of pain, a comedian revealing the depths of human sorrow. This ability to seamlessly shift between laughter and tears is the film’s emotional core.
Jun Robles Lana expertly navigates the film’s tonal shifts, blending humor and heartbreak with a grace rarely seen. Nadine Lustre shines, proving her comedic timing is as sharp as her dramatic skills. A playful scene involving a bicycle is a testament to her versatility, and a reminder of how much more she could have brought to the film’s lighter moments.
Even supporting roles are thoughtfully cast. Chanda Romero delivers a surprisingly tender performance as an adoption counselor, offering a reassuring presence amidst the emotional turmoil. Young Lucas Andalio, as Angelo, is a revelation, radiating innocence and captivating the audience with his natural talent.
Beyond the performances, the script delves into profound questions about motherhood, challenging conventional definitions and exploring the myriad forms love can take. The film is steeped in imagery of the Virgin Mary, a timeless symbol of maternal devotion, prompting us to consider what truly defines a mother’s role.
Is it a life built on unwavering love, even amidst hardship? Or one secured by comfort and societal expectations?Call Me Motherdoesn’t offer easy answers, instead inviting us to grapple with these questions alongside its characters. It’s a stylish update to a familiar Filipino narrative, echoing themes found in classics likeAng Tatay Kong Nanay.
The cinema was packed during the screening, and a spontaneous round of applause erupted as the credits rolled. I left with a lingering sense of embarrassment, touched by a story that had so easily moved me. Looking around, I noticed tears on the faces of others, a silent acknowledgment of the film’s power. Perhaps it wasn’t *our* story, but it resonated with a universal truth: we all have a mother, and the bonds of motherhood are undeniably profound.
