This review may contain spoilers
Young Love in Full Bloom
I had the chance to catch one of the many block screenings of Minamahal: 100 Bulaklak Para Kay Luna, Viva Films’ latest romantic drama written and directed by Jason Paul Laxamana. The film stars Andres Muhlach as Raffy and Ashtine Olviga as Luna—two fresh faces given the challenge of carrying a love story that spans youthful infatuation, growing pains, and the bittersweet truths of adulthood.
What struck me first was the sincerity of the film. It isn’t flashy or overly manufactured; instead, it leans on honesty, heart, and grounded storytelling. While chemistry often serves as a film’s main attraction, here it’s not just a highlight—it’s the foundation. The connection between Andres and Ashtine feels lived-in, and Laxamana builds a story around them that resonates long after the credits roll.
Beneath its youthful surface, Minamahal has surprising depth. It’s not only for teenagers navigating their first romances but also for adults who can still recall the ache and beauty of those years. Personally, Raffy’s quiet struggles with his siblings hit close to home—his hesitation to voice his needs, fearing he’s a burden, mirrors how many of us carry ourselves in our own families and friendships. It’s a rare thing for a love story to echo so strongly across age groups.
The film may appear simple at first glance—two students stumbling through love, ambition, and compromise—but it has a way of tugging you back to your younger self. That innocent stage of love, where every glance feels monumental and every goodbye feels permanent, is captured with striking authenticity. There’s nostalgia here, but it never feels forced.
Ashtine Olviga shines as Luna. She approaches the role with both strength and vulnerability, creating a character that feels real and memorable. Yes, there are echoes of her previous work—her Luna at times reminded me of her turn as Jay-jay in Ang Mutya ng Section E—but that familiarity doesn’t detract. If anything, she digs deeper here, showing a maturity in her craft. She breathes life into Luna in ways that linger well beyond the film.
Andres Muhlach, meanwhile, carries the weight of being a Muhlach with surprising grace. True, there are moments where you catch glimpses of his father Aga in his delivery, and his Tagalog accent isn’t always perfect. But what he lacks in polish, he makes up for in raw sincerity. He reminded me a lot of Sam Milby during his early years—green around the edges, but brimming with potential. There were scenes that begged for deeper emotion, maybe even tears he couldn’t quite deliver, yet his honesty shone through. Watching him grow into Raffy felt like watching a young actor slowly claim his own space in the industry. He’s not leaning on his family name; he’s proving he has his own story to tell.
Is the film perfect? Not at all. There are uneven beats and moments that betray the inexperience of its two leads. But oddly enough, that’s where much of its charm comes from. The rawness of the film—the fact that it doesn’t try to be overly polished—gives it an honesty that feels refreshing in local cinema. For a debut outing, it’s a brave and beautiful step forward.
Together, Andres and Ashtine bring a natural energy that makes the film sing. Their sweet, sassy, and giddy moments aren’t forced; they’re heartfelt, even in their flaws. You find yourself rooting for them—not just as Raffy and Luna, but as actors finding their place on screen.
Minamahal may not tick every box for a flawless romance, but it doesn’t need to. It’s nostalgic, heartwarming, and relatable, a film that brings you back to the sweetness of young love while reminding you of the tougher lessons life demands. More than that, it showcases two rising stars who are just beginning to bloom.
And the ending? It resists pure fan service, choosing instead to land on something more meaningful, leaving us with lessons to carry forward. That choice elevates the film, making it more than just a love story—it’s a reflection on growth, courage, and the beauty of simply being honest in love.
What struck me first was the sincerity of the film. It isn’t flashy or overly manufactured; instead, it leans on honesty, heart, and grounded storytelling. While chemistry often serves as a film’s main attraction, here it’s not just a highlight—it’s the foundation. The connection between Andres and Ashtine feels lived-in, and Laxamana builds a story around them that resonates long after the credits roll.
Beneath its youthful surface, Minamahal has surprising depth. It’s not only for teenagers navigating their first romances but also for adults who can still recall the ache and beauty of those years. Personally, Raffy’s quiet struggles with his siblings hit close to home—his hesitation to voice his needs, fearing he’s a burden, mirrors how many of us carry ourselves in our own families and friendships. It’s a rare thing for a love story to echo so strongly across age groups.
The film may appear simple at first glance—two students stumbling through love, ambition, and compromise—but it has a way of tugging you back to your younger self. That innocent stage of love, where every glance feels monumental and every goodbye feels permanent, is captured with striking authenticity. There’s nostalgia here, but it never feels forced.
Ashtine Olviga shines as Luna. She approaches the role with both strength and vulnerability, creating a character that feels real and memorable. Yes, there are echoes of her previous work—her Luna at times reminded me of her turn as Jay-jay in Ang Mutya ng Section E—but that familiarity doesn’t detract. If anything, she digs deeper here, showing a maturity in her craft. She breathes life into Luna in ways that linger well beyond the film.
Andres Muhlach, meanwhile, carries the weight of being a Muhlach with surprising grace. True, there are moments where you catch glimpses of his father Aga in his delivery, and his Tagalog accent isn’t always perfect. But what he lacks in polish, he makes up for in raw sincerity. He reminded me a lot of Sam Milby during his early years—green around the edges, but brimming with potential. There were scenes that begged for deeper emotion, maybe even tears he couldn’t quite deliver, yet his honesty shone through. Watching him grow into Raffy felt like watching a young actor slowly claim his own space in the industry. He’s not leaning on his family name; he’s proving he has his own story to tell.
Is the film perfect? Not at all. There are uneven beats and moments that betray the inexperience of its two leads. But oddly enough, that’s where much of its charm comes from. The rawness of the film—the fact that it doesn’t try to be overly polished—gives it an honesty that feels refreshing in local cinema. For a debut outing, it’s a brave and beautiful step forward.
Together, Andres and Ashtine bring a natural energy that makes the film sing. Their sweet, sassy, and giddy moments aren’t forced; they’re heartfelt, even in their flaws. You find yourself rooting for them—not just as Raffy and Luna, but as actors finding their place on screen.
Minamahal may not tick every box for a flawless romance, but it doesn’t need to. It’s nostalgic, heartwarming, and relatable, a film that brings you back to the sweetness of young love while reminding you of the tougher lessons life demands. More than that, it showcases two rising stars who are just beginning to bloom.
And the ending? It resists pure fan service, choosing instead to land on something more meaningful, leaving us with lessons to carry forward. That choice elevates the film, making it more than just a love story—it’s a reflection on growth, courage, and the beauty of simply being honest in love.
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