MY AMNESIA GIRL Review
Cathy Garcia-Molina's My Amnesia Girl has all the trappings of
detestable formula. Like all of the romantic comedies that preceded it, the
ones that have given Star Cinema the ill-repute of dumbing down its followers
with rehashes of the same story, by the
film seems to be relying solely on kitsch, on star power, on everything
artificial. There is no denying the film's use of kitsch. In fact, the film is quite
unabashed with it, with characters strangely enveloped by a culture of love reigning
supreme over everything else. It is adamantly unpretentious, relishing on the
obvious fact that it has in its service of fun an abundance of cute and hip. It
does not aspire anything more than to recharge its audience's thirst for
spritely romance, the one that is less attached to reality, the one that mines
on the mysteries of fate to add magic to it. In other words, My Amnesia Girl is Grade-A fluff. It
fulfills everything that a mainstream romantic comedy should do. Much more, it
skirts away from genre revision or experimentation, to delight of the studio
that bankrolled its existence.
Miraculously though, the
film, with its refreshing lack of pretenses of achieving more than momentary
delights that is expected of a romantic comedy of mainstream sensibilities,
does actually more than achieving the momentary delights that are the ultimate
fulfillment of the films of its genre. Somewhere along the way, amid the near
redundant exchanges of witty pick-up lines, against its need to only delight,
against its fate as a tool for escape that is to be solely for enjoyment, the
film develops a beautiful heart that thankfully aches, although quite subtly,
more than it delights.
Apollo (John Lloyd Cruz),
pick-up artist extraordinaire, met Irene (Toni Gonzaga), a photographer, in a
speed-dating event. While Irene attended the event only to document it, she
ended up enamored by Apollo's undeniable charms and wit. The seemingly perfect
relationship suddenly and unexpectedly ended when on their wedding day, Apollo
did not show up, leaving Irene irreparably heartbroken. When the two
serendipitously meet in a grocery, Irene concocts a lie and pretends to be
suffering from amnesia, therefore, removing all memories of Apollo and his
failure to marry her. Apollo, believing Irene's lie, takes the supposed clean
slate to undo everything he has done to her and make her fall for him like the
first time. The two become inseparable again, but are now faced with the
impending repercussions of their second chance at love be revealed as
by-products of Irene's vengeful grand lie.
The story, written by Jade
Castro whose masterful Endo (2007)
situated a poignant love story in the middle of temporary contractual
employment, hinges on a ludicrous proposal that men can be so drowned in love
and guilt that amnesia, which only happens in unimaginative telenovelas and is highly unlikely in
reality, has become instantly believable. Garcia-Molina, however, manages to
distract from the implausibility of the premise by creating a film that is as
self-aware of its contrivances as the characters are self-aware of their
love-addicted attitude in life. The performances by Cruz and Gonzaga are
expectedly charming, especially during the film's lighter moments. However,
during the moments where the film bleeds with emotions, Cruz and Gonzaga
communicate those emotions with convincing conviction that is impossible not to
get swayed into their dilemma and be affected with much more than just the
cheap thrills that is usually associated with Star Cinema's star-studded
romances.
The film's last scene, made funny by the trademark exchanges of witty one-liners that extend up to the end of the end credits, is actually quite bittersweet. Sure, the lovers end up together, as expected in any romantic comedy produced by Star Cinema. However, there is no assurance, no previous revelation, that fate's cruel retort to Irene's crueler lie, a lie that has produced so many beautiful things that it seems more alluring than the truth, has been resolved. We only see the lovers in satisfied bliss of being together, not knowing exactly whether the memories, good and bad, are there with them in their modest celebration. Whether Garcia-Molina knows it or not, with My Amnesia Girl, she has made a film that transcended the limiting bounds of formula filmmaking without breaking them. I'm crossing my fingers, but there might be hope yet for the mainstream.
(Cross-published in Lessons from the School of Inattention. First published in Philippine Free Press.)