This review may contain spoilers
Uninvited: A Vengeful Party You Won’t RSVP to Twice
Uninvited (2024) is a Philippine mystery crime thriller directed by Dan Villegas, co-produced with a story and screenplay by Dodo Dayao. Starring Vilma Santos, Aga Muhlach, and Nadine Lustre, the film entered the 50th Metro Manila Film Festival with a tale of vengeance set against a backdrop of crime and corruption.The story revolves around Lilia Capistrano (Vilma Santos), a grieving mother who infiltrates the lavish birthday party of wealthy criminal Guilly Vega (Aga Muhlach) to avenge her daughter's brutal murder. With layers of deceit, violence, and a cathartic showdown, the film explores the dark underbelly of power and privilege.
1. A Familiar Tale with a Few Twists
At its heart, Uninvited follows a well-trodden revenge plot: a mother seeking justice for her child. While the narrative isn't groundbreaking, the execution keeps you hooked. Villegas's direction ensures a polished visual style, and Dodo Dayao’s screenplay peppers the predictable storyline with sharp dialogue and moments of campy indulgence.
2. Star Power and Standout Performances
Vilma Santos as Eva/Lilia delivers a solid performance, though her attempts at subtle, eye-driven acting occasionally fall flat. Conversely, Aga Muhlach steals the show as the flamboyantly sinister Guilly. His portrayal brims with devilish charisma, echoing Al Pacino’s theatrical villainy in The Devil’s Advocate.
Nadine Lustre shines as Nicole, Guilly’s tormented daughter, bringing depth and vulnerability to a challenging role. Her scenes with Santos, while powerful, would’ve benefited from tighter editing to heighten their emotional impact.
The ensemble cast, including Nonie Buencamino, Lotlot de Leon, Elijah Canlas, and Mylene Dizon, each leave an impression, but it’s Muhlach’s menacing presence that truly elevates the film.
3. Flashes of Brilliance Amid Predictability
The film’s pacing is uneven, with a drawn-out buildup that dulls the climactic party confrontation. The revenge-fueled action sequences lack the tension and urgency needed for a truly gripping payoff. However, the musical score deserves applause, amplifying the film's intensity and creating moments of genuine suspense.
The film embraces its campiness, which, while entertaining, occasionally undermines its dramatic stakes. The predictable plot twists—though expected in a revenge story—diminish the emotional weight of the climax.
4. Final Thoughts
Uninvited isn’t without its flaws, but it still delivers enough intrigue and star power to warrant a watch. With Santos and Muhlach anchoring the narrative, it’s an enjoyable revenge flick, even if it doesn’t reinvent the wheel. For all its predictability, the film offers just enough drama, camp, and thrills to keep audiences entertained.
Catch it in theatres if you’re in the mood for some indulgent vengeance, but it might be better suited for a streaming night at home.
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Green Bones: A Tale of Justice, Redemption, and the Grey in Between
"Green Bones: A Tale of Justice, Redemption, and the Grey in Between"Green Bones is a cinematic gem that should be on everyone’s must-watch list this year. Directed by Zig Dulay and written by Ricky Lee and Anj Atienza, based on a concept by JC Rubio, this 2024 Philippine prison drama challenges audiences to rethink their notions of morality, justice, and redemption. Featuring standout performances by Dennis Trillo and Ruru Madrid, the film premiered on December 25, 2024, as part of the 50th Metro Manila Film Festival, and has already left audiences buzzing.
The story hinges on a powerful concept: green bones, found in a person’s cremated remains, symbolize a life of goodness—something remorseless criminals could never possess. Against this intriguing backdrop, the narrative unfolds with Xavier Gonzaga (Ruru Madrid), a grief-stricken corrections officer determined to prevent the release of Domingo Zamora (Dennis Trillo), a man convicted of the gruesome murder of his sister and niece. As Xavier wrestles with his bias, the film peels back the layers of Zamora’s story, challenging assumptions and delving into the grey areas of human nature.
A Philosophical and Emotional Journey
From the first scene, Green Bones grabs your attention with its philosophical depth and unflinching exploration of morality. Dulay’s direction turns what could have been a typical prison drama into a dark, fairy-tale-like meditation on justice. The screenplay is taut, with precise pacing that keeps the runtime feeling concise yet impactful. Ricky Lee and Anj Atienza's writing deftly balances drama and introspection, offering a narrative that’s both deeply human and profoundly thought-provoking.
The film’s philosophical approach is where it truly shines. It dismantles binary notions of good and evil, reminding us that human beings are capable of both. The narrative underscores that our choices—and how we take responsibility for them—define our morality. Moreover, it critiques systemic injustices that often label individuals as entirely good or bad, urging viewers to look deeper.
A Visual and Performative Triumph
Neil Daza’s cinematography deserves special mention, with sweeping aerial shots juxtaposed against intimate close-ups that reveal the characters’ inner turmoil. The prison, reminiscent of the real-life Iwahig Penal Colony in Palawan, serves as a visual metaphor for the film’s themes: a place of confinement that also offers the possibility of growth and redemption.
Dennis Trillo delivers a career-defining performance as Zamora, transitioning seamlessly between menace and vulnerability. His portrayal is a masterclass in nuanced acting, anchoring the film with emotional depth. Ruru Madrid complements him perfectly, bringing raw intensity to Gonzaga’s internal struggle. Together, they create a dynamic that is both heartbreaking and cathartic. The supporting cast, including Alessandra de Rossi, Iza Calzado, and Ronnie Lazaro, enrich the film’s tapestry, each bringing their A-game to their respective roles.
Themes That Resonate
Green Bones is not just about individual redemption; it’s a commentary on societal systems. Through its characters and their stories, the film highlights how systemic injustices affect everyone involved—victims, perpetrators, and enforcers alike. It challenges the audience to question their own prejudices and to recognize the humanity in those society often deems irredeemable.
The film also touches on themes of hope and transformation. The symbolic tree where characters tie their wishes mirrors Buddhist prayer flags, reinforcing the idea that goodness can prevail even in the darkest of places.
A Final Word
Green Bones is a cinematic triumph that transcends its genre. It’s a deeply moving exploration of justice and redemption, brought to life by stellar performances and masterful storytelling. Dulay’s direction, combined with Lee and Atienza’s writing, ensures that the film not only entertains but also provokes meaningful reflection.
By the time the credits roll, you’ll find yourself grappling with questions about morality, forgiveness, and the human capacity for change. And perhaps, like many others, you might leave the theater with a few tears shed and a heart full of empathy.
Green Bones is more than just a movie—it’s an experience, a conversation starter, and, ultimately, a call to look beyond the surface and into the soul of what makes us human.
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DON'T WATCH THIS IF YOU'RE ALONE AT NIGHT
This series got me screaming!!!I did not expect it to scare me. It's quite intruiging.
The storyline is not predictable and though the premise has been established on the onset, the plot will still unravel in the most unexpected twist.
In terms of acting I always have a high expectation with Gun and I know he delivers. This is also my first time watching Tor and he played his character really well.
If you are a fan of GMMTV artists, this series is quite star-studded and every week you can expect a special guest.
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A Double-Edged Exposure
Double Exposure (이중노출) is a Korean BL film released on October 18, 2024, on Heavenly, written and directed by Kim Min-wook and starring No Ji Hun as Myeong Seon, alongside Kim Sung Kyung as Gi Jun and Jeong Hyeon. The story revolves around Myung Seon, a photographer who crosses professional lines with his assistant’s boyfriend, Gi Jun, only to later encounter Jung Hyun, a man who bears an uncanny resemblance to Gi Jun but has a starkly different personality. This meeting leads Myung Seon to wonder whether Gi Jun ever really left his life.The premise is intriguing, but after watching Double Exposure multiple times, I found myself struggling to grasp the film’s underlying message. It seemed to be pushing for something profound, yet it often felt more confusing than deep. When it wasn't relying on explicit scenes, it shifted to dialogue that aimed to be meaningful but came off as dull and repetitive. It could’ve been a straightforward, sensual film, but it seemed compelled to inject an "artsy" significance, which fell flat.
One striking example is the film’s fixation on hands. When Myeong Seon first meets Gi Jun, they have an oddly philosophical exchange about hands, and Myeong Seon even compares Gi Jun’s hands to those in a da Vinci painting. From there, hands become a central motif—close-ups of hands unclenching, fidgeting, and being directed in stiff poses during the photoshoot. By the end, we're hit over the head with a close-up of the Mona Lisa's hands, underscoring this metaphor that felt overused and, frankly, unnecessary.
The characters themselves feel underdeveloped. Myeong Seon, aloof and distant, is well aware of his own cruelty but seems detached from the consequences of his actions. He chooses to treat Gi Jun as a fleeting muse, disregarding their affair’s moral complications. And yet, when he encounters Jung Hyun, Gi Jun’s stronger-willed doppelgänger, there’s a palpable shift. Suddenly, Myeong Seon abandons his polished professional camera for a rawer 35mm film camera and even a Polaroid, capturing Jung Hyun in unguarded, candid shots. The perspective changes subtly as he finds himself drawn closer to this version of Gi Jun.
Despite the intrigue around the “are they or aren’t they the same person” mystery, the weak plot and lack of character development overshadowed it for me. The film seemed bogged down by monotonous dialogue, leaving little space for meaningful growth.
That said, I can understand the appeal for some viewers. For those who appreciate a raw, artistic exploration of sensuality, it might feel refreshing. There's a sense of Japanese gay cinema’s influence throughout, and the natural portrayal of the male leads is unique for Korean film. It does take courage to create something with such unfiltered intimacy.
The twist was decent, and perhaps with more development, it could’ve packed a stronger punch. Nonetheless, if you’re curious, give it a go; you might find something in it that resonates more with you than it did with me.
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Cherry Magic Thailand: A Dash of Thai Spice with a Whole Lot of Charm
When GMMTV announced a Thai adaptation of Cherry Magic starring Tay Tawan and New Thitipoom, my excitement shot through the roof. Having seen them in more dramatic and intense roles, I was thrilled to watch them step into a lighter, magical romance. And let me tell you, they didn’t disappoint.Based on Toyota Yuu's manga Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?!, this adaptation follows Achi (New), a thirty-year-old virgin who discovers the quirky ability to read minds through physical contact. Things take a turn when Achi accidentally uncovers his charming and flawless coworker Karan’s (Tay) secret: Karan has a major crush on him. What ensues is a heartfelt and whimsical journey as Achi learns to navigate his powers, his feelings, and the magic of love.
- A Thai Twist on a Beloved Tale
What makes this adaptation shine is its seamless integration of Thai culture. From the bustling cityscapes to the subtle nuances of workplace relationships, the writers smartly localised the story while staying true to the manga’s heart. These changes weren’t just for show—they added depth, making the story feel fresh and uniquely Thai.
The chemistry between Tay and New is undeniable. Tay, as Karan, is a revelation with his playful inner monologues and pitch-perfect comedic timing. New, as the reserved and awkward Achi, brings just the right mix of campy charm and emotional vulnerability. Together, they create a relationship that’s both hilarious and deeply touching.
The supporting cast also deserves a round of applause. Junior and Mark, as the secondary couple Jinta and Min, were a delightful addition, and their expanded storyline added layers to the narrative. Even Sing and Jan, as Rock and Pai, offered an intriguing subplot that left me wanting more.
- Visuals and Vibes
From the vibrant cityscapes to the meticulous attention to detail in the workplace setting, the series is a visual treat. The soundtrack is the cherry on top, perfectly capturing the whimsical yet emotional tone of the story.
- Heartfelt Themes, Relatable Magic
At its core, Cherry Magic Thailand is about personal growth, empathy, and the beauty of connection. Achi’s journey of self-discovery and Karan’s unwavering support are beautifully portrayed, showing how love can flourish even in the most unexpected circumstances.
- A Few Quirks but Loads of Heart
While the series is impressive, it’s not without its hiccups. Minor continuity issues—like Mark’s hair color changes—could distract eagle-eyed viewers, and some moments felt a bit rushed. Still, these quirks are overshadowed by the heartfelt storytelling and stellar performances.
Final Thoughts
Cherry Magic Thailand is a standout adaptation that blends magical realism with authentic cultural flair. Whether you’re a fan of the original or new to the world of Cherry Magic, this series will leave you smiling, laughing, and maybe even shedding a tear or two.
It’s more than just a rom-com—it’s a testament to the transformative power of love, friendship, and a little magic. So, grab your popcorn and let Tay and New whisk you away into a world where even the ordinary can become extraordinary.
And with that, may we all find a little magic in the everyday.
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High Notes, Heartbreak, and Heavy Fan Service
I watched Love You So Bad at the Wolfgang Premiere Lounge in Gateway 2, and from early on it struck me as a romance that feels very much like a Wattpad adaptation — engaging, emotional, but somewhat episodic. At times, the film plays like a collection of moments rather than a tightly woven narrative, which made me think it might have worked better as a short digital series. Still, the story is coherent, the emotions land, and the direction keeps things visually and emotionally polished. As a 2025 MMFF entry directed by Mae Cruz-Alviar and written by Crystal Hazel S. San Miguel, the film clearly knows its audience and leans into that intentionally.Set in a contemporary school environment, the story centres on Savannah “Vanna” Aquino (Bianca de Vera), a young woman learning how to define love on her own terms. She’s torn between Vic (Will Ashley), whose lighthearted and dependable nature brings comfort, and LA (Dustin Yu), a charismatic figure carrying deeper emotional scars. Bianca de Vera carries the film with ease. She makes Savannah feel lived-in and relatable, capturing the vulnerability of someone who mistakes attention for love and settles for less than she deserves. Her performance gives the film its emotional spine, balancing humour, pain, and romantic longing with sincerity. Her scenes with LA, in particular, surprised me — their chemistry is strong and undeniably effective, delivering genuine kilig.
Dustin Yu brings welcome depth to LA, steering the character away from cliché. His performance is restrained but expressive, especially in emotionally heavy moments where his eyes do most of the work. Several scenes clearly moved the audience, and his portrayal carries much of the film’s dramatic weight. Will Ashley, meanwhile, brings charm and warmth to Vic, especially in the lighter moments. While his dramatic beats are more understated, he fits the role well and adds balance to the central triangle. The supporting cast, including Dimples Romana, Agot Isidro, and Xyriel Manabat, rounds out Savannah’s world without distracting from the core story.
Described as a modern take on Dahil Mahal na Mahal Kita, Love You So Bad feels more fan-focused than story-driven. It prioritises emotional beats and romantic moments over narrative depth, which may leave some viewers wanting more. I’m not usually drawn to rom-coms or straightforward love stories, but I found this an easy and pleasant watch. It’s cute, accessible, and clearly designed to please its fans. If you’re here for the kilig and the love teams, it delivers. If you’re after a richer, more layered romance, it may feel a little light — though it does leave you wishing there was more, especially a deeper look into Savannah and LA’s backstory.
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More Than Fan Service: A Mature Return to the Bar
Bar Boys: After School deepens the emotional and thematic reach of the original by asking what happens after the dreams, once idealism collides with reality. Set a decade after Bar Boys (2017), the sequel reunites Erik, Torran, Chris, and Josh not as wide-eyed law students, but as adults shaped - and bruised - by life. Directed by Kip Oebanda and co-written with Carlo Catu and Zig Dulay, the film trades youthful ambition for reflection, consequence, and quiet resilience. It's less about winning cases and more about surviving systems, relationships, and personal doubt.Each of the four leads feels thoughtfully evolved. Carlo Aquino's Erik remains principled but weary, now working for a nonprofit and facing public suspicion for choosing the marginalised. Rocco Nacino's Torran balances the dignity of teaching with the compromises of working in a firm. Enzo Pineda's Chris is confronted by his own emotional blind spots as a husband and father. Kean Cipriano's Josh, once the dreamer, returns to law school after a failed showbiz detour - humbler, but more grounded. Their friendship still holds, but it's no longer effortless, and the film is honest about that shift.
The emotional anchor of the story is Odette Khan as Justice Hernandez, now in her twilight years. Her scenes are beautifully written and deeply affecting, filled with quotable reflections on integrity, invisibility, and the courage it takes to stand for something. She doesn't lecture - she guides, and the film's most powerful moments often come when characters simply sit and listen to her. It's a performance that lingers long after the credits roll.
Among the newer characters, Will Ashley delivers a gripping portrayal of Arvin, a working law student juggling poverty, responsibility, and quiet despair. His monologue - "Forgive me for not being happy. Sure, I am proud of who I am, but I can't shake the feeling that I could have been more, if I just had more" - is genuinely heartbreaking and one of the film's emotional peaks. While his character does occasionally feel like a replication of young Erik Vicencio from the first film, Ashley's sincerity and rawness largely overcome that familiarity. It's his strongest dramatic work to date.
Sassa Gurl deserves her flowers as Trisha, a top-of-the-class trans law student portrayed with intelligence, restraint, and purpose. Her performance avoids caricature and instead carries quiet authority, representing the LGBTQIA+ community with gravitas and alacrity. Trisha isn't defined by struggle alone - she's defined by excellence, and that choice matters.
Benedix Ramos — who previously played Erik Vicencio in the Bar Boys musical — is a quietly inspired addition to the film as Bok. Acting opposite Carlo Aquino’s Erik Vicencio, Ramos first appears as Erik’s client who dies early in the story, before returning as a haunting manifestation of Erik’s unresolved guilt, failures, fears, and fractured conscience. The meta-casting works beautifully: Ramos becomes both a narrative device and an emotional mirror, blurring the line between memory and accountability. His presence is meticulous and fastidious, never overstated, yet deeply felt — an unsettling reminder that Erik cannot outrun the consequences of his choices. It’s a smart, layered creative decision, and an unexpected icing on the cake that elevates the film’s psychological weight.
Glaiza de Castro also shines in her limited but impactful moments, particularly in the scene where she helps Chris to finally understand Rachel's (Anna Luna) point of view and confront his failures as a husband. It's a calm but devastating reckoning. Klarisse de Guzman is a delightful surprise, showing strong comedy chops and natural screen presence as Mae - an impressive debut that lands its laughs without feeling forced. Longtime fans will also appreciate the cameos by Atty. Victor Cruz (Sebastian Castro) and Lord Master (Vance Larena), which feel like warm nods rather than empty fan service.
Finally, Sheila Francisco completes the film as Atty. Rhodina Banal, a formidable opposing counsel who embodies how the law can be twisted through technicality to protect those already in power. She doesn't just represent the antagonist in court - she represents the rotten and corrupt system, and her presence sharpens the film's social critique considerably.
At just over two hours, the film does run a little long and could have pushed certain confrontations - particularly between Erik and Rhodina - with more sharpness and urgency. Even so, its emotional honesty carries it through. Bar Boys: After School is a thoughtful and compassionate sequel, fully aware that its audience has aged alongside its characters. It speaks less about ideals and more about accountability, compromise, and the quiet, often uncelebrated work of choosing to keep going.
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From 1775 to 2050: A Bold Return to Form
I went into Shake, Rattle & Roll: Evil Origins fully intending to watch it anyway — I have friends in both the cast and the production — but I didn’t expect to see it in advance, alongside the cast, on premiere night. That alone already set the mood. Part of the 2025 Metro Manila Film Festival and rated R-13, this entry marks a confident, high-profile return for Regal’s longest-running horror franchise.Since its debut in 1984, Shake, Rattle & Roll has been a staple of Filipino cinema, delivering some of the country’s most unforgettable horror moments. For me, nothing still tops “Undin” (1991) — that toilet scene remains one of the most traumatising bathroom scares in local film history, so iconic that Filipinos still joke about “Undin” lurking in drains decades later. Evil Origins clearly understands that legacy, but instead of coasting on nostalgia, it takes a genuine creative risk.
True to form, the film is split into three episodes, but for the first time in the franchise, they are interconnected, forming one overarching story that spans the past, the present, and the future. Directed by Shugo Praico, Joey De Guzman, and Ian Loreños, and running close to 148 minutes, it sounds like the kind of runtime that could easily drag. Thankfully, it doesn’t. The film stays engaging because each segment offers a distinctly different flavour of horror — and because the connecting thread gives the whole thing momentum.
The opening chapter, “1775,” is set in a Spanish-era convent and leans heavily into atmospheric, religious horror. A group of nuns find themselves trapped as an unseen evil turns faith, repression, and desire into weapons. Visually, it’s moody and gothic, with strong production design that recalls The Nun. Janice de Belen is genuinely chilling as the cruel Mother Superior, while Carla Abellana, a veteran of standout SRR segments, brings gravitas as a prophetic figure. The script could have benefitted from deeper backstories, but the performances carry it — especially Loisa Andalio, who leaves a strong impression and feels like a future scream queen in the making.
The clear standout of the film is “2025,” a high-energy slasher set during a Halloween masquerade party. This is Shake, Rattle & Roll at its most fun and confident. The music pulses, the visuals pop, and the pacing never lets up. Fan-favourite pairings Francine Diaz and Seth Fedelin, as well as JM Ibarra and Fyang Smith, deliver both chemistry and individual presence, while Sassa Gurl steals scenes with perfectly timed comic relief. The kills are creative, the tension is real, and the mix of horror, humour, romance, and gore just works. It’s campy, bloody, and exhilarating — easily one of the best local slasher segments in recent years, and one that honestly feels strong enough to stand alone as its own film.
The final chapter, “2050,” swings big with a post-apocalyptic Philippines overrun by aswangs. Empty highways, broken bridges, and abandoned trains give the episode an eerie scale, turning Metro Manila into an unsettling wasteland. Richard Gutierrez is in his element as the action-driven lead, backed solidly by Ivana Alawi and Matt Lozano, while Manilyn Reynes once again proves why she remains a quiet horror MVP — grounding the chaos with experience and emotional weight. 💚 Dustin Yu stands out here as well, delivering sharp line readings, expressive physicality, and impressively confident action work. His presence feels assured, and it’s easy to see why he continues to gain recognition in the genre. The aswang designs are excellent — fast, vicious, and far more terrifying than your standard lumbering monsters.
Taken as a whole, Shake, Rattle & Roll: Evil Origins is best experienced on the big screen, where its scale, sound design, and visual ambition really land. Not every narrative thread is perfectly polished, and some character arcs could be stronger, but the film’s willingness to experiment pays off more often than not. It’s loud, entertaining, occasionally messy, but never dull — and most importantly, it proves that there’s still plenty of life left in this franchise.
This is a bold, crowd-pleasing return to form. It delivers genuine scares, big swings, and memorable moments, carried by a committed ensemble that understands both the fun and the fear of Shake, Rattle & Roll. For horror fans, slasher lovers, or anyone looking for a full-throttle cinema experience with friends, Evil Origins is an easy MMFF recommendation.
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A City Losing Its Footing.
Manila’s Finest is a gritty, atmospheric crime thriller set in Manila in 1969, a city on edge amid rising crime, political unrest, and looming social change. Directed by Raymond Red, the film follows a group of Manila Police District officers navigating turf wars, gang violence, and a growing sense that something far darker is at play. What begins as street-level crime — illegal gambling, prostitution, and rival gangs — gradually exposes deep-rooted corruption involving powerful businessmen, politicians, and even the police themselves.Running at 119 minutes, the film is written by Michiko Yamamoto, Moira Lang, and Sherad Anthony Sanchez, and balances police procedural tension with intimate human drama. At its core, Manila’s Finest is less about heroism and more about moral compromise, loyalty, and the cost of integrity in a city rapidly losing its footing.
Piolo Pascual anchors the film as Capt. Homer Magtibay, a seasoned but flawed officer trying to hold the line as the world around him shifts. Enrique Gil plays Lt. Billy Ojeda, his younger, idealistic partner whose restlessness hints at rebellion and poor choices. Ashtine Olviga stands out as Agnes Magtibay, Homer’s activist daughter, embodying the generational clash between authority and resistance.
The ensemble is strong across the board: Cedrick Juan is quietly menacing as Metrocom officer Danilo Abad, Romnick Sarmenta and Joey Marquez provide texture and sharp wit, Ariel Rivera brings dignity as the outgoing station chief, while Rico Blanco unsettles as his abrasive replacement. Rica Peralejo’s return to acting as Magtibay’s wife adds emotional weight, while Jasmine Curtis-Smith, Paulo Angeles, Dylan Menor, and Ethan David round out a cast that feels lived-in and purposeful.
The film opens with a patrol — squad car #014 cruising Manila’s streets as news of Gloria Diaz and the moon landing crackles over the radio — immediately grounding the story in its moment. From there, tensions rise as the Philippine Constabulary Metrocom begins encroaching on local police operations, mirroring real historical power shifts. Gang rumbles, student protests, and internal power struggles converge, leaving Magtibay squeezed from all sides — professionally and personally.
Magtibay himself is no saint. He’s violent when it suits him, unfaithful despite presenting as a family man, and too quick to threaten force. Yet the film never excuses him — nor does it demonise him outright. Instead, Manila’s Finest presents a world where there are no clean hands, only varying degrees of compromise. The police aren’t heroes here; they’re a flawed boys’ club barely holding together as history moves against them.
This is where the film quietly pulls the rug out. What looks like a nostalgia-tinged period cop movie is actually something bleaker: a portrait of institutional decay and the slow march toward Martial Law. The irony of the title is deliberate and relentless. The story offers little triumph, lingering instead on despair, inevitability, and the unsettling sense that resistance — from police or protesters alike — may already be futile.
Technically, the film is assured. Red’s cinematography is striking, full of energy and texture, while the production design is meticulous — from the MPD interiors to riot shields repurposed from woven rattan. The edit could be tighter, and the soundtrack’s reliance on mournful kundiman rather than ’60s rock feels like a missed opportunity, but these are minor quibbles in an otherwise immersive experience.
I caught Manila’s Finest at an advance screening — never one to say no to a free movie — and was genuinely pleased to spot friends like Sue Prado among the police ensemble, and Elijah Canlas in a brief cameo. I’ll admit I came in curious about Dylan Menor, and he didn’t disappoint. The film stayed with me long after the credits rolled, not because it entertained, but because it made me think — which is perhaps its greatest strength.
By the end, history becomes impossible to ignore. We know how this period ends, and the weight of that inevitability is crushing. Manila’s Finest isn’t an easy Christmas watch, but for those willing to sit with its discomfort, it’s a complex, sobering, and quietly powerful film — one that reminds us how quickly systems fail, and how those failures continue to echo today.
The question I left the screening with — and one I managed to ask the cast — was this:
Is the film suggesting that the police lost their dignity and effectiveness because Metrocom undermined and sabotaged them, leaving them powerless to push back?
Manila’s Finest doesn’t offer easy answers — and that, perhaps, is the point.
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Sassy. Scandalous. Spectacularly Sentimental.
I can’t remember the last time a series made me this giddy. The moment I saw the trailer and pilot for I’m the Most Beautiful Count, I was hooked — raving about it to anyone who’d listen. This 2025 Thai BL fantasy-historical drama has everything: time travel, political intrigue, forbidden love, and a lead character who brings pure diva energy to the wrong century.The story follows Prince, a modern queer pop star at the peak of fame who, right after coming out, suddenly wakes up in the body of Worradej, a nobleman in old-world Siam. What follows is a whirlwind of palace politics, class struggles, secret romances, and identity battles as Prince tries to uncover Worradej’s past — and maybe find a way back home. It’s not just time travel; it’s time travel with flair.
Adapted from the popular webtoon “I’m the Most Beautiful Count in Siam” (ฉันนี่แหละท่านขุนที่สวยที่สุดในสยาม), the 13-episode series aired on One31 and iQIYI from August to October 2025. It’s directed by Kritsada Techanilobon and written by Yuen Kin Pakka Thi Than Phra, with production from CHANGE2561.
Leading the cast is Nut Supanut Lourhaphanich as the fabulous Prince/Worradej — dazzling in heels one moment, fighting gender norms the next. Ping Orbnithi Leelavetchabutr brings stoic charm as Lord Kosol, the exiled noble with secrets and smouldering stares. Pop Pataraphol Wanlopsiri plays the poetic and conflicted Banjong, while Lee Asre Wattanayakul (Jade) and Aton Thanakorn Techawicha (King Chaiyachet) round out a strong ensemble.
What makes this series stand out is how it blends sharp comedy with meaningful commentary. Beneath the glitter and chaos, it tackles themes like LGBTQ+ rights, gender expression, classism, and patriarchy — all wrapped in humour and heart. It’s bold enough to address the struggles of transwomen and queer individuals in both the modern and historical settings, yet clever enough to do it without ever feeling preachy.
Nut Supanut absolutely owns this role. His performance as Prince/Worradej is both hysterical and heartfelt — flamboyant yet grounded. Whether strutting across a stage or defying social expectations in the royal court, he commands every scene with magnetic charisma. Ping’s Kosol, meanwhile, is the perfect counterbalance — dignified, intense, and quietly vulnerable. Their chemistry is electric, the kind that makes you grin one minute and tear up the next.
The show is brimming with comedy gold, especially the chaotic love triangle between Worradej, Kosol, and Banjong. From scandalous misunderstandings to romantic tension, the humour hits just right — playful, cheeky, and utterly addictive. Yet it’s not all laughs; the political subplots and personal revelations give the story surprising emotional weight.
Visually, I’m the Most Beautiful Count is gorgeous — rich costumes, detailed set design, and cinematography that glows with warmth and colour. Each episode feels like a blend of high drama and high camp, balancing satire with sincerity.
The finale may feel a little rushed, but it still manages to deliver a satisfying, emotional payoff. Without spoiling too much — it’s one of the few time-travel endings that genuinely feels earned.
At its heart, I’m the Most Beautiful Count is a celebration of love, identity, and resilience. It’s funny, heartfelt, and wonderfully over the top — a queer royal romp with something to say. Supanut’s performance alone is worth the watch, but the entire cast brings their A-game, turning what could have been a campy fantasy into something deeply human.
It’s bold. It’s beautiful. It’s scandalously fun. A glittering royal romp through time — witty, emotional, and fabulously queer.
Sparkling, sassy, and surprisingly meaningful — I’m the Most Beautiful Count is one of the most refreshing Thai dramas of the year. A must-watch for fans of historical fantasy, queer romance, and unapologetic storytelling.
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A Mature Reunion, a Love Rekindled
I’ll be honest — I’ve been excited about My Ex-Morning ever since GMMTV dropped the first teaser. After years of waiting, the reunion has finally arrived — and it’s every bit worth the wait. My Ex-Morning, produced by GMMTV and VIU under the direction of Lit Phadung Samajarn, runs for ten beautifully crafted episodes that aired from May 22 to July 24, 2025.I personally anticipated this series the moment it was announced — not just because of Krist and Singto’s legendary chemistry from SOTUS, but because I honestly didn’t think we’d ever see them together on-screen again after Singto left GMMTV. Their return feels like a full-circle moment, and My Ex-Morning doesn’t just live up to the hype — it exceeds it with depth, maturity, and emotion.
🌤️ The Story: Love, Regret, and Second Chances
The series follows Phi (Pathaphi), a passionate but hot-tempered TV reporter whose career crumbles after a viral outburst caught on camera. To rebuild his image, he’s reassigned to develop a new program under the supervision of a new producer — who turns out to be Tam (Tamtawan), his former lover from their university days.
What unfolds is a slow-burn reunion — not just between two ex-lovers, but between two people forced to confront their unresolved feelings while working side by side under the spotlight of the media industry.
Phi’s fiery impulsiveness clashes with Tam’s calm, methodical approach, creating a dynamic that’s equal parts tension and tenderness. Their professional rivalry mirrors their personal history, and as the story unfolds, the flashbacks to their younger selves reveal the roots of their connection — and the pain that once tore them apart.
💚 Chemistry That Never Fades
The emotional tension between Krist and Singto is palpable. Their performances are layered and mature, balancing restraint with raw honesty. Krist embodies Phi’s expressive and heartfelt nature so well — you can feel every ounce of his frustration, regret, and longing. Singto, on the other hand, delivers a masterclass in subtlety. His Tam is composed on the outside but quietly aching underneath.
It’s the kind of chemistry that doesn’t rely on grand gestures — it lingers in glances, pauses, and unfinished sentences. You can sense that these two characters — and these two actors — share a deep history both on and off-screen.
🐾 Sosay, Paul, and the People Around Them
Supporting characters add even more life to the story. Rita (Godji Tacharon), with her wit and wisdom, brings warmth and humour. She’s the kind of friend who sees through the nonsense, and her advice about exes — that no matter how painful things get, there’s always a lingering care — hits deep.
Then there’s Paul (Ohm Thitiwat), who introduces an emotional complexity that many shows overlook. His presence highlights Tam’s insecurities — the quiet fear of not being “enough” or not being able to take care of Phi the way others could. Through Paul, we see Tam’s vulnerability, his pride, and the emotional barriers he’s built. It’s a beautiful contrast to Phi’s openness and impulsive love. Didn't think he was gonna be a villain in the end.
Even Sosay the cat deserves praise — honestly one of the most expressive pet performances I’ve seen in a GMMTV BL! The animal symbolism throughout the series adds another layer of intimacy, reminding the audience of the bond that still connects Phi and Tam, no matter how much time has passed. I may be exaggerating about the cat, as a cat dad myself.
🌸 Family Wisdom and Cultural Depth
One of the standout moments for me was the wisdom shared by both mothers — Wari (Ngrek Kanlaya), Phi’s mum, and Sa (Kwan Kwanrudee), Tam’s mum. Their conversations ground the story in realism and heart. They represent generations of love that have weathered storms, reminding the boys (and the audience) that reconciliation isn’t about erasing pain — it’s about choosing understanding over pride.
And that final wedding scene? Absolutely stunning. The depiction of the traditional Thai wedding was deeply rooted in culture and emotion. The traditional formal wear — with Krist and Singto dressed immaculately in elegant Thai attire — added both authenticity and beauty to the finale. It wasn’t just romantic; it was reverent. You could feel the love and respect for Thai tradition in every frame.
🎬 Visuals, Tone, and Execution
Technically, the series is outstanding. The cinematography is clean and intimate, often using warm tones to contrast the coldness of the newsroom. I especially loved the two-second grey colour transitions between past and present — a subtle yet clever storytelling device that makes the emotional shifts easy to follow.
The production team deserves credit for the attention to detail — from the styling that makes Krist and Singto look believably younger in the flashbacks to the natural lighting that highlights their performances without overdoing it.
💭 A Thoughtful, Mature BL
What makes My Ex-Morning truly special is how it breaks away from the usual BL tropes. Instead of focusing on a new romance, it explores what happens after love — the regret, the growth, and the slow rebuilding of trust. It’s rare to see ex-lovers as main characters in BLs, and even rarer to see it done this sincerely.
It’s a reflection of real relationships — messy, imperfect, but still full of hope. And for longtime KristSingto fans, it’s a nostalgic but refreshing experience. The show feels like closure — both for Phi and Tam, and for us who followed their journey since SOTUS.
Sure, there are moments when the writing feels a bit overflowing or certain subplots don’t fully land, but the emotional core remains solid. The pacing is steady, the dialogue feels natural, and the balance between humour and heartbreak is beautifully handled.
🌄 Final Thoughts
My Ex-Morning is a heartfelt reunion that doesn’t just rely on nostalgia — it redefines it. It’s mature, grounded, and sincere. The chemistry between Krist and Singto feels richer than ever, and the cultural elements — from family wisdom to the traditional Thai wedding — give it emotional and national pride.
As someone who personally anticipated this reunion for so long, I can say this series exceeded my expectations. It’s a story about rediscovery, forgiveness, and love that refuses to fade.
💚 Verdict: 9/10 — A beautifully crafted, emotionally intelligent series that blends nostalgia with growth. My Ex-Morning isn’t just a comeback — it’s a celebration of maturity, love, and Thai storytelling at its best.
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From Casual to Captivating
Safe Skies, Archer is a Filipino romantic drama miniseries adapted from Gwy Saludes’ popular University Series novels. Directed by Gino M. Santos, the 10-episode run aired from November 2023 to January 2024 on Viva One, and streams internationally via Rakuten Viki.The story follows Hiro (Jerome Ponce), an aspiring pilot on the brink of training in Florida, and Yanna (Krissha Viaje), a carefree young woman who lives in the moment. What starts as a casual arrangement evolves into something deeper, tested by ambition, sacrifice, and the pull of true connection.
I’ve always known Jerome Ponce to be a reliable actor, and he doesn’t disappoint here—bringing warmth, charm, and quiet intensity to Hiro. Krissha Viaje, whom I first noticed in Mga Batang Riles and in The Juans’ Dulo music video, takes on her first lead role as Yanna, and she absolutely delivers. Her performance captures both Yanna’s confidence and her hidden scars, making her incredibly relatable.
The chemistry between Jerome and Krissha is magnetic—playful, flirty, and heartfelt, pulling you right into their story. Their dynamic feels immersive, almost as if you’re part of their world. It helps, too, that the ensemble cast adds richness: Dani Zee is a standout as Avi, supporting players like Aubrey bring extra spark.
Visually, the series is polished and vibrant, with moments that hit hard emotionally but still feel fun and youthful. The writing also flips expectations—a “bad girl goes soft” arc where Yanna, who begins as bold and unfiltered, slowly reveals her vulnerability. It’s refreshing to see a female lead allowed to be messy, playful, and strong in her own right. Hiro, meanwhile, balances her with charm and empathy, making their relationship feel both passionate and genuine.
As someone new to thethe University Series novels, I found watching this adaptation rewarding. Even if I am new to the universe, Safe Skies, Archer works as a heartfelt, engaging romance on its own. It’s well-crafted, never cringey, and brimming with the kind of giddy that makes you want to binge-watch—or rewatch long after the credits roll.
Verdict: A polished, emotionally resonant miniseries carried by the undeniable chemistry of Jerome Ponce and Krissha Viaje. Heartfelt, fun, and refreshingly modern—it’s a love story that soars.
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A Riotous, Campy Ride with a Whole Lotta Heart
🌺 Directed by Fatrick Tabada. Starring Sue Ramirez, Jameson Blake, Martin del Rosario, KaladKaren, and Maxie Andreison.Let’s get this out the way: Flower Girl is wild. Funny. And actually, kinda profound.
This ain’t your average rom-com. It’s a Filipino fantasy-comedy about a modern woman who loses her vagina—yes, you read that right—after offending a trans babaylan-fairy in a restroom. What follows is a quest for soulmate-level love before a magical flower drops its final petal. Sounds ridiculous? It is. But somehow, it works. And not just for laughs.
Sue Ramirez plays Ena, a confident sanitary pad endorser who suddenly finds herself cursed. Her journey, hilarious and unhinged as it is, forces her to confront what womanhood actually means when it’s no longer tied to biology. That’s where the film shines: it uses absurdity to unpack deep truths about gender, identity, and self-worth.
Ramirez is so in her element. She balances slapstick with sincerity like a pro. She's unfiltered, fearless, and genuinely funny—making Ena both chaotic and relatable. KaladKaren and Drag Race PH Season 3 winner Maxie Andreison absolutely light up the screen, while Martin del Rosario and Jameson Blake bring charm, spice, and surprising heart to their roles.
But beneath all the camp and glitter, there's substance. The script doesn’t preach, but it definitely talks. It takes on casual transphobia, body policing, and the toxic ways we measure womanhood—and it does it with comedy as its tool, not its excuse.
Now, not everything lands. Some jokes go a bit too lowbrow, the pacing dips in the middle, and while the trans themes are strong, they still revolve around Ena’s POV. But the intent is clear: to open conversations, to unlearn harmful ideas, and to give space to the messy, magical, often misunderstood experience of defining oneself on your own terms.
The cinematography? Slick. The energy? Electric. The vibe? Unapologetically queer, Pinoy, and powerful.
What makes Flower Girl special isn’t just its boldness—it’s the way it makes you laugh and think. It asks: "What makes a woman a woman?" But it doesn’t force an answer. It just wants you to ask better questions.
This is not your Tito’s slapstick. It’s fresh. It’s gutsy. It’s a whole damn vibe. And it might just be the most important Filipino rom-com of the year.
Rated R-16. Now showing in cinemas nationwide.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ out of 5 – but 10/10 for being a brilliant, campy, heartfelt mess. Go see it. Then take your friends. Then see it again.
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Redemption with a Smile: Samahan ng mga Makasalanan Delivers Heart and Humour
I’ll admit—walking into Samahan ng mga Makasalanan, I wasn’t expecting much. A satirical comedy with a title like that? I braced myself for slapstick. But to my surprise and delight, what I got was a thoughtfully crafted, warmly delivered tale about grace, change, and the power of second chances—with just the right dash of wit.Directed by Benedict Mique and written in collaboration with Aya Anunciacion, this 2025 Filipino film is set in the fictional town of Sto. Kristo, a place plagued by vice and moral decline. Enter Deacon Sam (David Licauco), a well-meaning young clergyman determined to make a difference. As he forms the “Samahan ng mga Makasalanan” or Sinners' Club, we’re drawn into a world where humour and heart go hand in hand.
What makes this film shine is how earnestly it carries its message: that no one is beyond redemption, and everyone has something good to offer. Through Deacon Sam’s belief in the outcasts of society, the story reminds us that compassion, not condemnation, is what steers true change.
Licauco proves he’s not just another pretty face. His portrayal of Deacon Sam is grounded, empathetic, and deeply human. He holds his own alongside a stellar ensemble that includes the always-excellent Joel Torre as Fr. Danny, Sanya Lopez, Buboy Villar, David Minemoto, and Soliman Cruz—each bringing charm and weight to their roles.
There’s also a powerful moment where Fr. Danny confides in Sam, saying, “We make sacrifices, and we love all instead of one.” That line struck a chord—it’s a poignant reminder of the loneliness, strength, and humanity in the life of clergy.
More than a feel-good flick, Samahan ng mga Makasalanan is a warm-hearted tale that balances satire with soul. It invites laughter while asking us to reflect on our own capacity for change, and the importance of those who believe in us—even when we don’t believe in ourselves.
It’s not perfect, but it’s sincere. And sometimes, sincerity is the most powerful thing a film can offer. I walked out with a smile, and a little more hope in humanity. That’s worth the ticket, don’t you think?
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A Confusing Collaboration That Fails to Connect
"Co-Love," directed by Jill Singson Urdaneta, is a 2025 Filipino romantic comedy featuring Alexa Ilacad, KD Estrada, Jameson Blake, and Kira Balinger. The film centres around two content creators navigating their messy romantic entanglements while attempting an unlikely collaboration. With themes of love, friendship, and the complexities of modern relationships, the film holds promise but falls short in execution.From the get-go, the film struggles to establish a clear vision. The editing is haphazard, the lighting inconsistent, and the sound design grating. Ironically, despite the protagonists being content creators, the quality of their "content"—and the film's overall technical aspects—is subpar. Awkward framing, poorly edited sequences, and clunky transitions make the viewing experience visually and aurally jarring.
The plot is equally chaotic. Events unfold without cohesion, with forced scenarios and shallow storytelling that lack emotional weight. The characters repeatedly deliver quotable lines, but without meaningful scenes to support them, the dialogue feels hollow. Attempts to tackle social media addiction and self-discovery are muddled, failing to deliver any profound commentary.
The saving grace of "Co-Love" lies in its cast. Alexa Ilacad shines with her effortless comedic timing and emotional depth, balancing humour and drama with finesse. KD Estrada brings intensity to his role, and his musical performance (the song "Di Ko Pinili") is a standout moment. Kira Balinger's over-the-top antics add a layer of charm, and Jameson Blake's understated portrayal quietly resonates. Despite their efforts, even this talented ensemble cannot salvage the film from its messy script and direction.
"Co-Love" teeters on the edge of satire, almost parodying itself with its exaggerated portrayal of influencer culture. While the concept of juxtaposing social media's frivolity with deeper emotional narratives holds potential, the execution here is far too disjointed. The movie ultimately feels like a missed opportunity—what could have been a bold, refreshing take on modern relationships instead devolves into a forgettable and frustrating watch.
The film's attempts to pander to Gen Z audiences with trendy tropes and superficial romantic beats feel patronising rather than engaging. It’s disappointing to see promising actors saddled with such lacklustre material, leaving viewers longing for a more thoughtful and cohesive story.
In the end, "Co-Love" isn’t a collaboration; it’s a chaotic clash of ideas that fail to connect—both with its audience and within itself.
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