Showing posts with label Francis Ford Coppola. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Francis Ford Coppola. Show all posts

Sunday, March 19, 2017

The Conversation


 


Director Francis Ford Coppola on the set with Gene Hackman















THE CONVERSATION            A               
USA  (113 mi)  1974  d:  Francis Ford Coppola

Nestled in-between the first two THE GODFATHER (1972, 1974) movies, both of which won Academy Awards for Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay, among others, with Coppola winning Best Director for the second one, is this mysteriously quiet and introspective film that may as well come from a different universe altogether, as it’s nothing at all like an operatic gangster picture, but is instead a stylishly tense and suspenseful character study of a surveillance expert, Harry Caul (Gene Hackman), more along the lines of Jane Fonda in Alan J. Pakula’s Klute (1971), both dominated by powerful performances, arguably the best in each of their respective careers.  While Hackman is more showy and entertaining in other pictures, winning the Best Actor award for THE FRENCH CONNECTION (1971) and Best Supporting Actor award for UNFORGIVEN (1992), this film is calibrated down considerably, where the viewer is intrigued by every nuance and inflection of Hackman’s understated performance, a loner, keeping to himself, barely uttering a word to anyone, feeling uncomfortable in social situations, literally locking himself into his supposedly impenetrable room most of the time, which remains locked up tight like a bank vault.  While there are elements of the script (written by Coppola himself) that leave Harry inexplicably exposed, something you’d never dream he’d allow, the gist of it is the man is coming completely unraveled by the internalized pressure of the case he is working on, suspecting something horrible is about to happen, where as a devout Catholic he feels guilty just from the toxic atmosphere surrounding his work, recalling how it led to several deaths in the past, leaving inner scars that have never healed.  The entire film takes place within the enveloping trauma slowly building inside, like a pressure cooker, where he remains closed, hermetically sealed, yet continually feeds off his own anxieties and fears, always suspecting the worst.  In this way, the viewer remains on high alert, suspicious of any and all activities, and while Antonioni’s BLOW-UP (1966) was a key influence on the film, trying to make sense of random collected material, it feels more similar to the work of Michael Haneke in CACHÉ (2005), where the two films feel interrelated, both drawing on moral themes of collective guilt and memory.      

Winner of the 1974 Palme d’Or (1st Place) at Cannes, then called the Grand Prix (from 1964 to 1974), also a special mention Ecumenical prize, the film finds Coppola at the height of his powers, dialed down considerably, where this is a more ambiguous puzzle piece, brilliantly edited with ominous ramifications.  Listed among the best 70’s paranoia films, which would have to include Roman Polanski’s CHINATOWN (1974), Sydney Pollack’s THREE DAYS OF THE CONDOR (1975), Arthur Penn’s Night Moves (1975), Alan J. Pakula’s “paranoia trilogy” of Klute (1971), THE PARALLAX VIEW (1974) and ALL THE PRESIDENT’S MEN (1976), these are films that rose from the ashes of the 1960’s assassinations, the Vietnam War, and Watergate, where television images flooded the nation reinforcing a government that had lost control, released just days before the House Judiciary Committee subpoenaed 42 tapes from the Oval Office where President Richard Nixon had secretly been recording conversations with his immediate staff, leading to jail sentences for some and the President’s subsequent resignation a few months later.  These films exemplified a growing sense of despair from extreme governmental mistrust, which they viewed as a threat to their democracy, often feeling powerless to do anything about it.  Running throughout the film is an underlying cover-up of unseen criminal actions, suggesting events beyond our control, where the film is imbued with an alarming sense of fatalism, including a surreal dream sequence in the fog worthy of a psychoanalytic Bergman film, where Harry is heard to mutter under his breath, “I’m not afraid of death, but I am afraid of murder,” suggesting that throughout the film a murderer is in the midst.  Given an almost Kafka-like sense of absurd authoritarianism, Harry is hired by a wealthy business executive known anonymously as the Director (Robert Duvall), shielded by heavy security at the front door, a wall of telephone screenings, and underlings apparently willing to risk their lives on his behalf, making it extremely difficult to contact him, where they are like mirror images of one another, each intensely private individuals leading solitary lives hidden behind heavily protected fortifications.  Harry us supposedly the best in the business, owner of a small electronic surveillance company in San Francisco, where he designs his own exclusive products, which are for his use only and not for public usage.    

At the outset, the only sequence shot by heralded cinematographer Haskell Wexler, the camera uses an aerial shot zooming down onto Union Square in downtown San Francisco, with a crowd mulling around, including the omnipresent figure of a mime who is constantly interacting with the crowd.  Mimicking the walking mannerisms of others, he slides up next to Harry before we even realize who he is, a ubiquitous man in a trench coat blending in anonymously with the crowd, while there are other menacing signs reminiscent of some of the more disturbing 70’s conspiracy films.  This sets the mood for finding a needle in a haystack, as within this mass congestion of humanity lies an important piece of evidence that has yet to be ascertained, as Harry is on the case collecting streams of evidence using hidden recording devices, following a young couple (Cindy Williams and Frederic Forrest) as they continually encircle the square.  We hear bits and pieces of their conversation, often cut off by the loud sounds of music playing nearby and elevated street noises.  It all sounds relatively banal, where nothing stands out, but they are obviously very much in love, yet attempting to remain discreet, where it’s easy to develop a special affection for them, as they’re going to great lengths to remain secretive.  A man with a bag (Michael Higgins) is following them around, arousing suspicion when he’s been identified, so he deftly moves away, meeting Harry and his partner Stan (John Cazale) in a van parked nearby which is filled to the brim with eavesdropping equipment.  We don’t really get a sense of what we’re dealing with until Harry gets home, requiring several keys to unlock his door, yet a birthday gift has been left inside, apparently by the landlord, which peeves Harry to no end, incensed that someone had access inside, making an immediate call, where he can be heard voicing his displeasure, “I would be perfectly happy to have all my personal things burn up in a fire because I don’t have anything personal.  Nothing of value.  Nothing personal except my keys!”  Immediately we sense Harry is inordinately protective of his privacy, bordering on a manic obsession with the details of his perfectionism, as the man is an expert at remaining anonymous and not being detected or found.      

The film is a master class of interior character development, as Harry Caul undergoes a personal transformation of epic proportions.  Used to spying on others with the latest, state-of-the-art equipment, offering a detached, passionless, and non-judgmental view of the people affected by his work, in this film the tables are turned on Harry, where he is subject to extraordinary scrutiny, where the spier becomes the spied upon, yet what gets Harry is the completely invisible network surrounding him, literally closing in on him, all without his knowledge, where if truth be told, it all may be completely imagined on his part, enveloping him with a paranoiac sense of fear, but real or not, he finally starts feeling the effects of being the target of one of his own surveillance operations.  Once he realizes there may be hidden motives behind his assignment, where he is tested by one of the Director’s assistants (Harrison Ford) to hand in the work to him, though he was specifically instructed to give his work to no one other than the Director, which sends him into a panic, as if he was being used and set up, further exacerbated when he recognizes the subjects of his assignment are working in the same building.  Examining the contents of his recordings more closely afterwards, he’s able to detect words that were muffled before, where he is clearly able to distinguish the words, “He’d kill us if he got the chance.”  Bending his mind over that phrase haunts him, sending him to church where he offers a confession, “I’ve been involved in some work that I think will be used to hurt these two young people.  This happened to me before.  People were hurt because of my work.  I’m afraid it could happen again.”  This sends him spiraling through a moral crisis, as he wonders if he can in some way prevent it, knowing that he’s only the messenger, that once he delivers his work, it’s out of his hands.  In the early part of the film Harry subordinated his own personal thoughts by accentuating the professionalism and expertise of his work.  In this way he avoided any troubling existential crisis.  But circumstances change, where he becomes the subject of some unknown, secret investigation, which sends him into a fever dream of anguish, exemplified by an elaborate dream sequence where he attempts to reach out to this unsuspecting young couple and offer his help and assistance, but to no avail, as they are lost in the fog, leaving him alone in a purgatory of powerlessness and helplessness. 

As the story unravels, it’s told in a moody, atmospheric, completely absorbing style accentuating an interior mindset, beautifully expressed by jazzy piano music written by David Shire that evokes a quiet tenderness in brief interludes, literally providing the pulse of the film.  While playing on the audience’s expectations, what’s so unique about the subject is the timing, released when the government was resorting to the exact same methods shown onscreen, then lying about it afterwards, covering up their involvement, where surveillance technology, specifically wiretapping, was a weapon that could just as easily topple a President as protect him.  The Watergate scandal was a moral crisis that played out onscreen, where the film raises ethical questions about spying on others without their knowledge and consent, which only elevates to greater heights when it’s the government performing the secret operations.  The idea of spying on citizens was shown to great effect in THE LIVES OF OTHERS (2006), a film that openly describes the brazen methods used by the East German Stasi secret police on its own citizens, threatening immediate arrest, literally extorting them for favors and information on others, where no one was safe, as Stasi operatives themselves were watched.  This is the scenario that plays out in this film, as Harry has to come to terms with the consequences of what he’s done, willingly or not, revealing just how inept he is in affecting the final outcome, as he’s a lone citizen, completely powerless against a larger, better organized and well-financed operation whose motives remain unknown.  When the hunter becomes the hunted, the film reveals the dire psychological implications, where one’s vulnerability is exposed and laid bare before higher powers that remain safely protected behind invisible walls.  Yet Harry becomes obsessed with how they bugged his apartment, as he’s the master of their methods, so if anyone could figure it out, it would be him, stripping the walls and floorboards, checking the electrical wiring, literally tearing apart what was previously a completely ordered and tidy apartment, with everything perfectly in place, now stripped bare, turned into a demolition zone where pure anarchy reigns supreme.  Of note, the character of Harry Caul was inspired by surveillance technology expert Martin Kaiser (whose work station certainly resembles Harry’s), FBI Vendetta Against Martin L. Kaiser Martin L. Kaiser, Inc. - Marty Kaiser, who later wrote a book, Odyssey of an Eavesdropper: My Life in Electronic Countermeasures and My Battle Against the FBI, and also served as a technical consultant on the film.

Monday, February 9, 2015

A Most Violent Year















A MOST VIOLENT YEAR       B+         
USA  (125 mi)  2014  ‘Scope  d:  J.C. Chandor 

There is always a path that is most right. 
—Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac)

A throwback to the 70’s, in particular the peculiarly darkened style of THE GODFATHER saga (1972 – 74), though the film takes place in New York City in 1981, a year the city reportedly saw one of the highest crime rates in its history, starring Oscar Isaac from Inside Llewyn Davis (2012) as Abel Morales, owner of a small city oil company.  What’s immediately apparent is the degree that Isaac channels Al Pacino’s performance of Michael Corleone from THE GODFATHER, where he continually tries to be that noble figure not only for his family, but his every move, even while being investigated and heavily scrutinized by the police, is made to garner “respect.”  While his business was inherited through marriage, where his beautiful wife Anna (Jessica Chastain) comes from mob money, Abel spends the entire movie trying to get out from under the shadow of her father’s criminal underworld reputation, trying to prove to anyone who will listen that he runs a legitimate business.  This becomes a running question throughout the film, as Chandor plays close to the vest when doling out plot information, keeping viewers on edge throughout even though it’s filmed in a mesmerizingly slow and hypnotic style.  Stylistically, this low-key film is in a world by itself where nothing else really compares, shot deliberately with a degree of unusually quiet elegance throughout by Selma (2014) cinematographer Bradford Young, making a bold directorial statement simply by charting new territory in a popular genre that has been explored to death.  Rather than accentuate the bloodshed, this film draws us into the strange and curious world of buying property and obtaining a loan, which is an art in itself when you’re trying to accumulate well over a million dollars, mostly from dirty guys that would just as soon rip your head off.  While Abel makes a down payment on a piece of land owned by Hassidic Jews overlooking the waterfront, he comes under intense pressure from all sides when it comes to making the final payment, as if he misses the deadline he could lose it all.  The threatening violence that pervades the mood throughout this film is also met with everyday, ordinary acts of theft, where Abel’s oil trucks are coming under attack, with his drivers are beat up at gunpoint and left on the street while their trucks are hijacked in order to steal every ounce of oil.  This is a dirty business reeking with a history of corruption, where his independent drivers may be challenging the solidarity of the Teamsters union, his competitors may be trying to muscle him out of the way, while Abel’s business practices are being thoroughly investigated by the District Attorney (David Oyelowo, also from Selma) who is bound and determined to uncover wrongdoing in an election year. 

Written by Chandor himself, the film is an existential nightmare where a well-intentioned individual is thwarted at every turn, bearing some similarities to the moral complexities of the Coen brothers’ A Serious Man (2009), where like the Old Testament character of Job, a man is challenged at every step of the way but still tries to find a meaningful significance to it all, to be a serious man, someone whose moral values remain intact and where God still has a place in his life.  While the religious context is nonexistent in this movie, replaced by a solidly entrenched, mob-driven capitalistic system that is ripe with corruption, Abel is extremely cognizant of his family’s stature in the New York community, where his every move is driven to elevate their place in society.  While his competitors are thugs that use mafia tactics, what’s intriguing about this story is that these are his friends and relatives, people that he socializes with and attends family gatherings, where cutthroat tactics is all they know.  While Abel tries not to take it personally, he’s not the one that is strong-armed at gunpoint and hauled out of their trucks like his drivers who have literally come under siege.  While common sense suggests they might arm themselves, this is not only illegal and could jeopardize the business, but it also leads to shootouts on public thoroughfares where innocent people are subject to being shot and killed.  Short of hiring armed guards, which the company cannot afford, it’s a tricky situation that plagues not only Abel but his drivers, especially Julian (Elyes Gabel), who very much like Abel is trying to build a life for himself, to make something out of nothing, both of them starting out as drivers, but Julian has the misfortune of being traumatized by the events, especially when he repeatedly gets targeted.  Ever since Steven Soderbergh’s underrated OUT OF SIGHT (1998), comedian Albert Brooks has made the remarkable transition to playing heavies, where he is brilliant underplaying the role of Andrew Walsh, a mafia lawyer, but he’s an essential component in any business transaction, as he’s the keeper of the flame, a company guy trusted by the underworld, the kind of person who has lived to see it all happen before his eyes, where nothing phases him any more, as he knows how things get done.  Andrew is genuinely sympathetic to Abel, as he’s a kid with good instincts, but he may be in over his head. 

Perhaps the real surprise in the film is the performance of Jessica Chastain as Anna, as no nonsense as any man, whose life behind the scenes is rarely even hinted at, but becomes more prominent as the film progresses, where Abel grows increasingly desperate, where his back is against it, yet his calibrated performance remains deliberate and measured throughout.  Anna is a whole other story, where the audience is fortunate to see Chastain in a more menacing role as a gangster’s moll, the femme fatale, a Lady Macbeth, a woman from the streets who knows her way around a crooked business even as her husband strives to be a decent man.  While she’s not easily intimidated, as evidenced by the way she mouths off to the District Attorney when they conduct a search of the home during her young child’s birthday party, seen passing out party favors to each kid at the door as they leave prematurely before reminding the counselor, “This was very disrespectful,” while flicking a cigarette in his face.  As the feds bring multiple indictments against him, Abel has all his money tied up in buying this invaluable piece of land, and when his legitimate lenders dry up, scared away by the feds, he has to make the rounds through the nefarious connections of his own family, hat in hand, asking for last minute loans.  Alessandro Nivola as Abel’s sinister rival Peter Forente is particularly creepy, a guy whose life is so defined by gangland murders that he basically has to spend his entire life behind a protected fortress.  Yet this is a guy he grew up with, who could easily be behind the hijackings, but Abel treats him as a serious man, where otherwise he’d be thrown out on his ear.   The crucial relationship between Chastain and Isaac is superbly developed, continually underplayed, with restrained fireworks and plenty of surprises in store, where this film continually takes unexpected turns in the road, yet never for a minute is anything less than compelling.  Chandor, the driving force behind Robert Redford’s wordless performance in All Is Lost (2013), continues to be a director of intrigue, refusing to follow anyone’s path but his own, growing up in New Jersey, a graduate of The College of Wooster, making starkly different kinds of films than any of his compatriots, nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay with his first feature MARGIN CALL (2011) following more than a dozen years of making commercials.  In this he resembles Swedish director Roy Andersson, who has directed over 400 commercials, but also Ridley and Tony Scott, Jonathan Glazer, Michel Gondry, Spike Jonze, not to mention David Fincher.  The music by Alex Ebert is especially effective at the end, America for Me - YouTube (4:08), a dramatic rendition sounding much like Nina Simone.  

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Why Is Yellow the Middle of the Rainbow? (Bakit dilaw aug gitna ng bahag-hari?)






Director Kidlat Tahimik and his son Kidlat de Guia






Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky






Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky










Filmmaker Kidlat Tahimik







Filmmaker Kidlat Tahimik and his mother


















WHY IS YELLOW THE MIDDLE OF THE RAINBOW? (Bakit dilaw aug gitna ng bahag-hari?)       A                    
aka:  I Am Furious…Yellow
Philippines  (175 mi)  1981 – 1993  d:  Kidlat Tahimik

How are we going to finish this film?  We could just wait for the spaghetti to run out.
—Kidlat Tahimik

This rare film was originally scheduled to be screened at the downtown Drake Hotel in Chicago as part of the Prak-sis New Media Art Festival, a three-day conference offering artistic responses to the legacy of Cold War-era social upheaval in southeast Asia, but the 16 mm print, the only surviving copy in the world, repeatedly stuck in the projector, inflicting severe print damage causing the celluloid to burn, so the screening was re-scheduled a week later to the School of the Art Institute, where only a handful of people were fortunate enough to see this remarkable film.  Kidlat Tahimik, a Tagalog translation of “silent lightning,” remains an obscure underground filmmaker, considered the “Father of Philippine Independent Cinema,” but is also a writer, artist and actor who was born Eric de Guia in Baguio City, Philippines, who grew up in a life of privilege in a summer resort community located in the presence of several U.S. Military bases, an experience that heavily influenced his films, which tend to be scathing critiques of the aftereffects of colonialism.  Graduating from the University of the Philippines in Speech and Drama, Tahimik studied at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School of Business, earning a Masters degree in Business Administration, working as a researcher for the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) in Paris from 1968 to 1972, an organization committed to spreading Western technology to lesser-developed countries, where he wrote fertilizer distribution reports while working on a farm in Norway before returning home to become a filmmaker.  Tearing up his diploma and changing his name, Tahimik lived in various artist communes, including one in Munich that attracted the attention of Werner Herzog, who cast him in a small part in THE ENIGMA OF KASPAR HAUSER (1974). 

Bryan L. Yeatter describes Tahimik’s life during the 70’s in his book Cinema of the Philippines:

Tahimik traveled to Europe where he was going to try to make a living selling trinkets, but somehow along the way he managed to make contact with Werner Herzog, and using borrowed equipment, outdated film stock, and stock footage, he put together his first film [in 1977], Mababangong Bangungot (Perfumed Nightmare) for a mere $10,000—a remarkably low cost even in its time. The film mirrored his own experience as Tahimik played the lead, a young man who dreams of escaping the stifling existence of his isolated rural community and seeing the modern world. Through an American acquaintance, he travels to Paris to run a gumball concession, and later ventures to Germany, ultimately concluding that the modern world may have much to offer, but has also sacrificed much of importance in the process of its development.

Under Herzog’s tutelage, he took up filmmaking, making his first film, PERFUMED NIGHTMARE (1977), a mixture of documentary, diary film, fictionalized autobiography, cinematic essay and ethnography, and winner of three awards at the Berlin Film Festival, where Tahimik is appalled by the massive expansion and pervasive influence of Western technology while raging against the colonialist impulses that led France and then the United States to make the Philippines their own exclusive property, where the economic model was much like the slave trade, using cheap exploited labor to ravage the nation’s resources in order to enhance the quality of living in America while leaving the Philippines in dire economic straits.  Screened by Tom Luddy (Telluride Film Festival co-founder) at the Pacific Film Archives in Berkeley, Tahimik met American director Francis Ford Coppola (who distributed the film in the United States) just about the time he was envisioning shooting his film APOCALYPSE NOW (1979) in the Philippines.  Commonly associated with the Third Cinema movement that rejects the Hollywood model of making films as escapist bourgeois entertainment, Tahimik was a pioneer in embracing indigenous culture, redefining Philippine art in personalized terms that goes far beyond the nation’s social history.  Co-founder of the Baguio Arts Guild, integrating indigenous and avant garde subjects into his aesthetic, making technically unpolished films, Tahimik’s work as writer, director, editor, actor, and cinematographer has led the path for an independent Philippine cinema for over thirty years. 

More than a decade in the making, this is nothing less than revolutionary filmmaking, where the film “defies summary simply because of the sheer volume of ground it covers,” according to author and professor Christopher Pavsek, becoming a magnum opus that questions what it means to be a post-colonial Filipino, where the director had to wait until his oldest son was old enough to narrate a large portion of the film, creating an epic film diary spanning the decade of the 1980’s as seen through the eyes of Tahimik and his family.  What is singularly unique about this film is the pervasive use of children, whose point of view is the focal point of the picture, as the film is a coming-of-age essay that coincides with a child growing up, curious and inquisitive, asking questions about the world around him, where the director acts as a father-figure narrator, where the film is largely a dialogue between father and oldest son, Kidlat de Guia (now a talented filmmaker in his own right), who ages noticeably as the film progresses leading up to his entrance into high school.  Tahimik met his wife Katrin de Guia, who is also an artist and writer, while in Germany, seen throughout making stained glass artworks, where they also have two younger children, Kawayan and Kabunyan de Guia, where art defines how this family expresses itself.  Calling the film a “celluloid collage,” we watch the family on overseas vacations, participate in school projects, and capture a child’s first steps, while also using a series of newspaper headlines and archival television reports to delve into national stories.  Tahimik seamlessly blends the two together, where the personal becomes the political, all corresponding to a progression of the director’s life as a Filipino father.  Using surreal imagery that often challenges the logic of the narrative, this three-hour diary incorporates contemporary history of the Philippines, Tahimik’s own family, found footage, newspaper headlines and TV broadcasts, home movies, travel footage, and documentation of public events and political demonstrations, where documentary footage is mixed with scripted performances.  The film begins in Monument Valley, the site of many John Ford westerns beginning with STAGECOACH (1939), where the family is seen posing for pictures at John Ford's Point while rousing Hollywood music plays for what the director calls spaghetti movies, as the filmmaker and his son hitch a ride with (the unidentified) Dennis Hopper in his old Cadillac, which raises the question of how Indians were portrayed in the movies, continually shown in stereotype as the archenemy of the original American settlers in the West, where Indians were portrayed as savage creatures who were less than human, yet this was their land that was being trampled upon and stolen from them, where they had to be pushed aside by force to make way for the advancement of the “white man.”  Following a similar theme, Tahimik identifies the Philippines as a Third World country (Third World definition - Third World Traveler) that was formerly colonized by First World nations, where the differentiation between the two can be expressed in their use of machines, as First World nations use machines to perform much of the work that in the Philippines is still performed by human labor, what Tahimik proudly tells his son is “people power.”    

"Towards a Third Cinema"  Towards a Third Cinema, by Fernando Solanas and Octavio Getino

The anti-imperialist struggle of the peoples of the Third World and of their equivalents inside the imperialist countries constitutes today the axis of the world revolution. Third cinema is, in our opinion, the cinema that recognises in that struggle the most gigantic cultural, scientific, and artistic manifestation of our time, the great possibility of constructing a liberated personality with each people as the starting point — in a word, the decolonisation of culture.

Tahimik is an unusual sort of film pioneer, relying upon gentle humor and a sharp wit, not to mention spashes of avant garde, experimental cinema used  in a playful manner, with inspired musical choices like Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana Carl Orff - O Fortuna ~ Carmina Burana - YouTube (4:51) and surprise appearances from unidentified film artists like Francis Ford Coppola, Werner Herzog, and Andrei Tarkovsky (the only time he came to America in 1983 for the Telluride Film Festival), as Tahimik points out the vast economic divide between the rich and the poor, offering a sharp critique of capitalism and Western technology that refuses to recognize the human value contributed by each individual, where society becomes slaves to technology and machines, including industrial advancement that exploits the poor with low wages and poor working conditions.  In the mountainous region of Baguio City where this family lives, the indigenous community co-exists with the locals, even though their ways and understanding of their own history may be different, where the director seems to take great pleasure profiling local craftsmen and women, offering images where people power is seen moving massive rocks and boulders into a line to build a bridge across the river.  Expanding on the historical confusion, the local community is seen embracing the colonial influence of the United States, where the presence of American military camps are scattered everywhere, including nearby Camp John Hay which always celebrates the 4th of July with fireworks and family games while distributing ice cream for all the kids, where Filipino’s also grew up thinking this was the Philippine Independence Day as well, as it was one of the few holidays everyone celebrated together and overshadowed their own country’s national holiday (Araw ng Kalayaan).  Like John Ford and his movies, this is the Hollywood version of colonialism where fantasy and fiction outweigh reality.  Tahimik adopts the view that a modern society could learn from remembering “the old ways,” suggesting they represent an untapped resource in terms of conservation and ecology, calling it “an inbuilt brake system” where the negative effects of technology are slowed, where artists are like shamans, suggesting that following the First World is not always the path to happiness.  One of the continuing narratives recounted throughout is the relationship between the Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan and his navigator Filipino slave, where Magellan attempted to convert the “savage” natives of the Philippines to Christianity, by force if necessary, a plan that backfired as Magellan was killed by a spear attack in the Battle of Mactan and was unable to complete the first circumnavigation of the earth.  Rather than view minorities through an adverse power relationship, like the racially superior beliefs of the colonial powers, Tahimik identifies with the indigenous people for the cultural and artistic value they can bring to anyone’s life, including extremely imaginative children’s folktales, where it influences his own decision as a parent where he doesn’t allow his children to play with guns, or see movies that accentuate Hollywood’s love affair with guns and violence, claiming it’s a foolish imaginary world that depicts Indians as better off dead, seeing little difference between John Hay and John Ford, claiming they’re both the same thing. 

According to Raya Martin, arguably Philippine’s greatest filmmaker, he calls this film the best Filipino movie ever made in an October 26, 2012 article he writes for Moving Image Source, while also pointing out:

Kidlat Tahimik’s cinema is best summarized by a scene in the film. Footage from his infamous unfinished-to-date Magellan project, an epic retelling of the explorer’s expedition to the Philippines, narrates: “Magellan taught his valet the rudiments of chess. Not only does he carve his own pieces and learns their movements, he picks up easily the thinking patterns of being a winner. The master realizes, for the first time, the slave is a thinking animal capable of plotting his own moves.” “Checkmate,” says Kidlat Tahimik, who acts as the indio slave in the film.

And as the whole film is a constant self-referential to Kidlat, the filmmaker, trying to make sense of his footage on the editing table, the celluloid on a flatbed spills all over a printed text by the Spanish scholar Antonio de Nebrija: Language is the perfect instrument of Empire.

"Is it any wonder that the indio now behaves like his master?"

One of the abrupt shifts of the film is newsreel footage reporting the assassination of Presidential candidate Benigno Aquino (assassination of Ninoy Aquino) as he arrives at the Manila airport, reportedly shot by “communists” say the initial reports, though more likely the murder was carried out by the bodyguards assigned to protect him by the Marcos government.  Sitting President Ferdinand Marcos, closely aligned with American President Ronald Reagan, ruled as a dictator for over twenty years, the last ten under a declared martial law, where he is believed to have looted billions of dollars from the Filipino treasury.  The outrage surrounding the Aquino murder catapulted his widow Corazon Aquino into the political spotlight, leading her to run for President under the banner of the People Power Revolution, which eventually led to the common perception that Marcos stole the election, declaring himself the winner, where as many as two million Filipinos fled into the streets wearing the color “yellow,” sustaining a campaign of civil disobedience, which eventually turned the military against Marcos, leading to his exile to Hawaii where he died soon afterwards while “Corrie” Aquino was proclaimed the legitimate President of the Philippines.  There is a tone of true elation as Tahimik, along with all the local parents, teachers, and school kids, design yellow signs and posters for the street demonstrations, where a sea of yellow captures the mood of a nation, where Tahimik’s own 1986 footage is reminiscent of Oratorio for Prague (1968), Jan Nĕmec’s street footage of an equally euphoric Eastern European nation that believed they were on the verge of democracy before Soviet tanks started occupying the streets of Czechoslovakia.  But people power prevailed, where this film is an outgrowth of the artistic freedom associated with that lifting of a blanket of corruption and the repressive measures of living under a military dictatorship.  The feeling is similar to Taiwanese director Hou Hsiao-hsien’s A City of Sadness (Bei qing cheng shi) (1989), which also reflected an exuberant artistic expression that was suddenly free to explore its own nation’s history after the lifting of the ruling party’s martial law that had been in effect for forty years.  It is probably no accident that this sudden artistic surge of the first liberating signs of freedom reveal these directors at the height of their powers.  Little did the director know that this euphoria would be followed by the startling revelation that the late dictator Marcos built the Philippine Nuclear Power Plant directly on an earthquake fault line, where it had to be disassembled, which was followed by a series of military officials on trial for corruption, the devastating impact of the 7.8 magnitude Luzon earthquake of 1990, Luzon on July 16, 1990, killing over 1600 people, causing nearly a quarter of a billion dollars in damages, an event that caused massive crippling of the economy and may actually have precipitated the volcanic eruption of Mt. Pinatubo Mount Pinatubo Eruption (June 1991) covering the region in ash, leading to devastating floods, where it seemed the country was besieged by an apocalyptic fury of nature.  The uniqueness of the film is experiencing it all through the personalized vantage point of a father teaching his son, widened to include literally hundreds of school children as well, where Tahimik distinctively captures them all singing Whitney Houston - Greatest Love Of All - YouTube (4:50) while exploring the local community as well as his nation’s history.  According to Tahimik:

[the filmmaker can either follow] the dictum “time is money,”…or allow time to be his ally and open up to cosmic inspirations provided by a relatively free time frame.

My footages are like tiles in a mosaic…You shuffle them, change them around. In my process, nothing is permanent.

Making a film is like taking a long trip. The film voyager can load up with a full tank and bring a credit card along to insure completion of the voyage in as short a time as possible. The voyager can also load up with a few cups of gasoline and drive until he runs out and scrounge around for subsequent cups of gas to get to his destination, without worrying about how long it takes to complete his voyage… The length of the trip […] is a matter of choice depending on the combination of ingredients – inspiration, resources, tools, working materials available, personal circumstances like family or emotional disturbances, etc.

According to Christopher Pavsek, associate professor of film at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, BC and author of The Utopia of Film: Cinema and Its Futures in Godard, Kluge, and Tahimik, Why Is Yellow the Middle of the Rainbow? - BAM/PFA - Film ...: 

It is impossible to describe Kidlat Tahimik’s virtually unknown masterpiece, the diary film I Am Furious Yellow (or Why Is Yellow Middle of Rainbow?), that chronicles Tahimik and his young son’s lives as they traverse the tumultuous decade of the 1980’s in the Philippines, so let’s just list a few of the things you’ll see in the course of its three hours (which go by far too quickly): a great democratic revolution deposes a dictator; a massive volcanic eruption covers the world in ash; a huge earthquake levels a whole city and social class distinctions as well; Magellan’s slave Enrique circumnavigates the globe (and wins a princess’s heart); storms rage over the gorgeous landscapes of the Philippine cordillera and Monument Valley in the U.S. Southwest; the filmmaker and his son hitch a ride with Dennis Hopper in his old Cadillac; and a tooth is pulled out of little boy’s mouth by a very big toe. That doesn’t even scratch the surface of this vastly rich film, which at once demonstrates just how vital and compelling cinema can be as well as how vital and compelling our very existences can be despite all the disasters and catastrophes—both human-made and natural—that loom from every angle. In an age of rising seas and collapsing economies, [the film] shows us how to be furious at all the injustice in the world but also how to face that injustice with the utmost joy. There are indeed few, if any, films like this in the world.  
 
Postscript 
Why is Yellow at the Middle of the Rainbow? (Philippines, 1994)  Thankfully, the entire film may be seen here, YouTube (2:50:10)