‘A.ni.mál’ REVIEW: A Sly Dog of a Satire
‘A.ni.mál’ REVIEW: A Sly Dog of a Satire
What is the extent we are willing to reach in the name of what is righteous and just? That is the question that lies in the head (alongside numerous feelings of disgust she’d rather ignore) of one Lily Peralta (Maxine Ignacio) as en route to a visit at her currently running governor uncle Paul Reyes’ (Reymund Domingo) place for negotiations on an animal shelter sponsorship; she witnesses him abusing his dog in a rather unsightly fashion (to say the least). Upon recording footage that she later shows to her father, Dan (Jojit Lorenzo), and her mother, Ofel (Frances Makil-Ignacio), she thus begins a gradual spiral as the members of the family try to either leverage the event for their own means, attempt to neutralize it before it affects their family dynasty, or perhaps both.
A man (Reymund Domingo) leading an imagined orchestra | Still courtesy of Cinemalaya
In either way, A.ni.mál, the latest from frequent Cinemalaya contributor Dustin Celestino (who also helmed Ang Duyan ng Magiting for the 2023 edition, and Habang Nilalamon ng Hydra ang Kasaysayan for the 2025 edition), immediately lets its approach be known in a coarse manner that may go beyond the extent of traditional good taste. In colloquial terms, the type of shit you’d receive a “bro that’s crazy” for.
While the film does fall in line with Duyan and Hydra’s own direct tappings into the modern political zeitgeist, this sets itself apart from its Cinemalaya brethren by its leanings into pure comedy for its sake (in a way, it reminds me more of Celestino’s 2019 film Utopia with how it uses its thematic work as vehicle for genre mechanics), consistently pushing for the lowest of brow jokes and payoffs that consistently work throughout its triptych structure.
Lily (Maxine Ignacio) finds comfort in John (Anthony Falcon) | Still courtesy of Cinemalaya
From Lily’s escalating, out-of-touch savior/hero complex unaware of her own privileges and implications thereof, as animal shelter employee and unwitting love interest John (Anthony Falcon) watches over befuddled, to Ofel attempting to bargain the trust of Paul’s wife and fellow candidate Grace (Bituin Escalante), to Dan’s desperation in trying to keep Paul’s election chances under control, there is a twisted anticipation to just how feral (wordplay intended) the extent of its tomfoolish satire goes, and for large stretches A.ni.mál really escalates its joke hit ratio to consistency.
The rawness of the filming style (influenced by the Danish Dogme 95 avant-garde film movement, the entire film was shot on an iPhone, with all the digital grain and sudden zooms and pans that come with the perspective of immediacy and sitcom-esque timing) adds more to the hilarity, as if we too are privy to some ridiculous bullshit we’d rather not see or hear. Said bullshit is also delivered by an all-around fantastic cast, though Makil-Ignacio and Escalante do deserve standout mention for their larger-than-life electric work as their section ramps up.
There are some unfortunate drawbacks to A.ni.mál’s brand of shenanigans. For one, at two hours, it feels a bit too long for what initially presents itself as over-the-top snappiness, as the sheer chaos of its center, while never fading, does become tempered as the film subtly switches its gears, creating some unfortunate lulls. Celestino has always been adept at weaving some compelling verbal exchanges in part due to his experience in theatre, but there is a sort of clash between the impassioned (if a bit sardonic in this particular register) winding words and the newfound rapid pace, even if both are executed to a reasonably effective degree.
The nature of this clash essentially sums up the heterogeneous concoction that lies at the core of this story’s development, as the dry frankness of the innate debauchery of what lies behind political dynasties and how the rest of us reckon with it does lead to a conclusion that, while still effective in allowing the implications of the nature of the film’s humor to land like a bitter pill in the stomach hidden within an initial sugar sweet taste, it does feel a bit as if it sort of deflates the mania of the film’s momentum in building up the plot that it has been consistently poking and prodding at.
Ofel (Frances Makil-Ignacio) and Grace (Bituin Escalante) lead a rally | Still courtesy of Umbrella Entertainment
Even if it is the ultimate thesis point of the plot (and the notes it ends on still has that delightful mix of dark dreadful, hilarious asininity), the two-hour long runtime descent into it may read more as excess to what is quite nimble at its finest, but at the very least it’s excess with purpose for tantalizing provocation, even if it does need a bit more polish.
These incongruities, despite their creation of a bumpier ride, are still in service of fascinating evolution and some of the most uproarious laughter I’ve had for a film this year. Within Celestino’s hardest swerve into situational comedy yet, A.ni.mál displays a surprising bite to its bark as an outrageous satire about the state of local electoral politics. Even in its “long in the tooth” runtime for its straightforward cutting existentialism, the film’s capacity to go for the broadest, ridiculous gags and punchlines delivered by a game cast rounds everything out into one wild succession of cringe that is as absurd (and depressing) as the zeitgeist it captures. My perspective as I stare at a jar of Skippy will unfortunately be altered for a while.
‘A.ni.mál’ is one of the selected full-length feature films for the 22nd edition of the Cinemalaya Philippine Independent Film Festival.
