Wracked by financial crisis, Philippine cinema does not have a future, except on television. Malls and Hollywood-style industrial entertainment spell doom for small theaters and for films that speak to the Filipino soul.

by Uro Q. de la Cruz

	Illustration by Chong Ardivilla

I RECENTLY took a peek at the entertainment section of the country's most widely circulated broadsheet morning paper, and it was no surprise for me to find no Pilipino movie being shown in any of the movie houses connected with malls and commercial centers in Metro Manila. This was not the first time I've had this experience this year. Actually, having no Pinoy film to see in Metro Manila has become quite usual.

In 2003, the local movie industry churned out 60 films. So far this year, not more that 30 have been produced. Even Regal Films, the busiest company in the last two decades, has come up with only 10. There will probably be at least four new films opening before Christmas and seven major productions from other companies before the year ends, thanks to the Metro Manila Film Festival. Still, that makes for a pretty paltry sum for the industry, which is clinging to the filmfest for dear life, since it is the only clear and economically viable and justification for making films nowadays.

And to think that 10 years ago, at least two new movies opened every week. Which only means the movie in my mind about the industry in 2015 is dark, dark, dark.

Most movie workers already believe that the local film industry is either dying or dead. Producers, former superstars, and dethroned action kings blame high government tax and movie piracy. Some filmmakers even believe that far too many foreign movies are shown in the country and that the censors treat local films unfairly.

Part of the real reason, however, is that there is confusion among filmmakers about what movies to make. The old reliable formulas don't work anymore, even as some innovative filmmakers are stumped by old studio systems.

But it all really comes down to the budget. The accepted economic formula for the industry is you have to gross three times what you spent making the movie just to break even. So a P10-million movie must earn not less than P30 million at the tills; otherwise, it would have been all for nothing. Big studios are bound to spend more because they get actors with big names with equally big rates. .

The independent producers who hold offices in Escolta had found a way around this formula: get a few unknown and therefore inexpensive actresses willing to show their bodies, shoot the movie in a week on location, and spend only about P3 million. If the movie grossed P10 million, they would have earned a net profit of P1 million. These films are shot on location to control production costs. All one needs is a plantation or a seaside village where rentals are low. Forget concerns about exposing audiences to local culture and giving them a taste of village life; this is why we have movies about egg production, eggplant and kangkong horticulture, tahong cultivation, pineapple agriculture, pottery, fabric weaving, etc.

The predominantly male market of these films is a limited one. But it is a reliable market. The malls, though, have put a stop to the men's cinematic flesh thrills. Just a few months ago, the SM mall chain began refusing to show these films. Now it is back to family movies at the malls. This is no caprice on the side of the mall owners; it is a move that is economically sound. People who go to the malls have money to spend, and mall owners want them to part with as much money as possible.

Here's how the shopping center executives probably figured out the economics of movie-watching: To watch a movie in Manila, one has to shell out at least P80. To be assured of reserved seating, you pay a lot more — from P150 up to P290, if you wanted unlimited popcorn. Since you are watching a family movie (only family movies at the mall theaters, remember?), you will be spending much more because chances are you will have someone else with you.

No wonder the bakya crowd has fled the theaters in droves.

Uro Q. de la Cruz wrote screenplays for Peque Gallaga, Ishmael Bernal, and Butch Perez. He has also directed several films. This year, he published his first novel, Antyng-antyng. Currently, he directs "Bubble Gang" and "Bitoy's Funniest Videos" for television. He is a board member of the Director's Guild of the Philippines, Inc or DGPI. Like most other DGPI members, he has not written or directed a movie since 2002.

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