Where the director left a camera in one spot, never really following characters, making the background noise louder than the dialogue.
Where a Temporary Protection Order form was flashed onscreen while a voiceover read everything that was written on it.
Where a trip to the local sanglaan unfolded real-time, including computation of the interest (thrice!) and actual counting of cash.
Where we had to endure watching characters for several minutes wiping the stairs with spilled urine from an arinola.
Such odd choices! And I didn’t even learn anything new about domestic violence. Seriously, what was the point?
(Originally published April 22, 2016.)