Absence and Presence in Lav Diaz’s Florentina Hubaldo CTE

Absence  and  Presence  in  Lav  Diaz’s  Florentina  Hubaldo,  CTE  (2012)   9  April  2014,  Research  Seminar,  University  of  Stirling     Introduction    

In   summer   2012,   I   sat   in   the   Edinburgh   Filmhouse   and   waited   for   the   screening   of  

Florentina  Hubaldo,  CTE,  the  new  film  by  Lav  Diaz,  writer-­‐director  from  the  Philippines,  now   perhaps  best  known  for  his  latest  film  Norte  The  End  of  History,  which  screened  at  last  year’s   Cannes  festival.  In  fan  circles  and  for  somewhat  hardcore  cinephiles,  he  is  most  famous  for  his   lengthy   metaphorical   treatments   of   Philippine   history   and   the   country’s   social   malaise:   Melancholia,  eight  hours;  Death  in  the  Land  of  Encantos,  nine  hours;  and  Evolution  of  a  Filipino   Family,  ten  hours.  And  this  is  the  average.  He  is,  in  fact,  working  on  a  film  that  has  a  running-­‐ time  of  fifty  hours  at  the  moment.      

In   any   case,   I   knew   Lav’s   eight-­‐hour   film   Melancholia   from   a   screening   in   Newcastle.  

Sitting  in  a  comfy  seat,  I  felt  prepared  with  food  and  drinks  to  my  feet.  What  I  wasn’t  prepared   for  was  the  new  kind  of  power  he  has  infused  his  new  film  with,  a  power  he  transmitted  by  a   unique  choice  of  aesthetics,  which  he  has  never  used  before.  After  a  six-­‐hour  traumatic  ordeal,   for   both   the   viewer   and   the   main   character,   the   film   ends   with   a   young   woman,   Florentina,   sitting  in  a  chair,  her  nose  bleeding  and  her  left  cheek  swollen.  She  experiences  difficulties  to   retain  her  posture  while  keeping  a  cool  cloth  to  her  head.  Looking  directly  at  the  viewer,  she   mutters:  “My  head  hurts.  My  head  never  stops  hurting.  It  never  stops.” [still]    

Florentina  repeats  herself  over  and  over  again.  She  speaks  about  having  been  beaten  

by   her   father,   about   having   been   chained   to   her   bed,   strangled,   and   about   having   been   sold   to   men.  After  a  twenty-­‐minute  static  long-­‐take,  the  young  Florentina  loses  her  strength  and  her   consciousness.      

Florentina   Hubaldo   is   a   metaphorical   treatment   of   chronic   trauma   as   a   result   of   300  

years  of  colonialism.  Rather  than  transmitting  the  theme  of  trauma  through  aesthetics  such  as   1

flashbacks  and  rapid  editing,  as  is  the  case  in  contemporary  trauma  cinema,  Diaz  represents   trauma   through   the   use   of   repetitive   loops   in   the   present   narrative,   a   slowness   evoked   by   long-­‐takes  and  the  overall  film  length,  as  well  as  through  the  play  of  presence  and  absence  of   sound  and  images.      

What  is  particularly  striking  in  this  film  is  the  absence  of  on-­‐screen  violence.     The   film  

uses   the   rape   of   a   woman   as   a   metaphor   for   the   rape   of   the   country   under   Spanish,   American   and  Japanese  rule.  If  anything,  you  would  expect  the  depiction  of  rape  being  the  centre  piece   of   the   film,   especially   if   you’re   familiar   with   Diaz’s   films   and   know   that   he   tends   to   stage   painstakingly  realistic  representations  of  rape  in  his  other  films,  such  as  Century  of  Birthing.   [still]  In  Florentina,  he  deliberately  positions  the  viewer  as  listener  rather  than  as  eye-­‐witness.   He  puts  emphasis  on  sound;  Florentina’s  screams,  her  cries,  and  the  sound  of  the  chains  her   father  ties  her  to  bed  with.  Throughout  the  film,  Diaz  stresses  the  role  of  listening  -­‐  of  listening   to   Florentina’s   repetitive   monologues   about   her   ordeal,   of   listening   to   her   being   raped   without  being  able  to  see  her,  of  listening  to  both  atrocities  and  peace.      

For   this   reason,   I   want   to   analyse   Diaz’s   unique   juxtaposition   of   sound   and   silence   as   a  

means  to  convey  the  ideas  of  trauma,  loss  and  mental  decline,  caused  by  CTE,  a  degenerative   disease   of   the   brain   that   develops   slowly   and   gradually   over   years   as   a   result   of   persistent   brain   injuries.   Before   I   go   into   a   detailed   analysis   I   want   to   show   you   an   extract   of   the   film   so   that  you  get  a  feeling  for  the  film’s  atmosphere.     [extract]     Main      

This  extract  is  an  example  of  Diaz’s  juxtaposition  of  sound  and  silence,  a  juxtaposition  

of   joy   and   sadness,   of   the   Giants   and   Florentina.   The   Giants   are   giant   paper-­‐mâché dolls,   which  are  the  main  attraction  during  the  Higantes  Festival,  an  annual  celebration  near  Manila  

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in  honour  of  San  Clemente,  the  patron  of  the  fishermen.  They  are  an  indicator  of  past  events   and  belong  to  Florentina’s  childhood,  in  which  she  regularly  seeks  refuge.    

And   indeed,   Florentina   does   find   refuge   in   the   Giants   throughout   her   ordeal   of  

repeated   beatings   and   rape.   At   the   end   of   the   film,   she   recounts   that   she   is   always   with   the   Giants,   especially   in   her   dreams.   They   keep   returning   and   they   dance   together.   But   the   Giants   also  appear  in  hallucinations,  which  arise  from  Florentina’s  mental  decline.  In  several  scenes,   Florentina  interrupts  her  actions  because  she  appears  to  see  something.  Diaz  does  not  make   use   of   traditional   eye-­‐line   matches   here,   so   he   refrains   from   making   explicit   what   exactly   Florentina  sees.  But  he  leaves  clues  for  us.  [still]    

Scenes  such  as  those  are  often  altered  with  images  of  the  Higantes  parade.  Handheld  

shots  show  children  looking  up  to  the  Giants  and  trying  to  grab  their  huge  hands.  Florentina   also   looks   up   to   something   or   someone.   She   holds   out   her   hands   as   if   she   tries   to   grab   something.   She   repeatedly   dances   around   just   as   the   Giants   themselves   do.   Her   behaviour   -­‐   though   evidently   trance-­‐like   -­‐   is   that   of   a   child’s   at   the   Higantes   parade,   and   therefore   an   indicator  for  her  hallucinatory  imagination  of  past  events.    

So,  what  exactly  does  this  juxtaposition  of  sound  and  silence  evoke  in  the  viewer?    

 

For   once,   if   you   sit   through   the   film,   it   is   a   deeply   unsettling   experience.   The   sudden  

switch   from   sound   to   absolute   silence   in   scenes   such   as   these   disorientates   the   viewer   as   sound  functions  as  a  unification  of  images.  Moreover,  silence  disrupts  temporality.  This  is  very   similar   in   the   case   of   trauma,   which   equally   disrupts   temporality   and   a   linear   narrative   of   the   self,  which  is  locked  in  a  temporal  loop.    

Confronted   with   a   disrupted   temporality,   linearity   and   unity,   the   viewer   is   left   in   a  

position   similar   to   that   of   the   on-­‐screen   character.   Florentina   appears   disoriented   and   in   a   trance-­‐like   state.   She   is   abandoned   and   has   no   means   of   protection.   Similarly,   there   are   no   reference  points  for  the  viewer.  As  Diaz  positions  the  viewer  predominantly  as  a  listener,  his  

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denial  of  auditory  information  leaves  us  nothing  to  go  by  with.  Together  with  Florentina,  we   are  entirely  naked  and  struggle  to  find  sensory  information  to  hold  on  to.    

Over  the  course  of  the  film,  Diaz  alters  scenes  of  absolute  silence  and  scenes  of  sound  

three   times.   Two   of   these   alterations   have   a   direct   connection   to   the   Higantes   festival.   The   parade  of  the  paper-­‐mâché dolls  and  people  accompanying  them  with  brass  instruments  ,  as   we  have  seen  in  the  extract,  creates  a  scene  of  what  I  would  call  acoustic  stress.  The  volume  of   sound  appears  not  only  higher  in  contrast  to  the  absolute  silence  that  preceded  it.  Overall,  the   sound   volume   throughout   the   film   is   much   lower.   In   some   cases,   it   even   needs   a   manual   increase  of  volume  through  the  remote  control  in  order  to  hear  ambient  sounds.  The  sound  of   the   parade,   on   the   other   hand,   appears   artificially,   and   deliberately,   heightened   for   the   purpose  of  rupture.  They  function  as  shock  moments,  and  as  attacks  on  our  auditory  senses.   Similar   to   repeated   attacks   on   Florentina’s   body   and   mind,   the   viewer   is   forced   to   go   through   a   similar   ordeal.   We   are   confronted   with   repeated   attacks   on   our   senses.   Acoustic   stress   occurs  mainly  in  alleged  scenes  of  joy,  which  is  indicated  by  the  children,  who  repeatedly  try   to  grab  the  hands  of  the  massive  dolls  in  order  to  walk  alongside  them.      

In  contrast,  scenes  of  absolute  silence  often  succeed  scenes  of  acoustic  stress.  Half  an  

hour  into  the  film,  Florentina  takes  care  of  the  goats  in  her  father’s  backyard.  She  puts  them   into   a   small   shed,   and   then   turns   around   to   face   the   viewer.   Her   eyes   seem   to   follow   something,  and  a  cut  discloses  that  she  is  imagining  two  Giants  in  front  of  the  garden.  [still]   The   sound   does   not   fit   the   image   because   it   contains   children’s   voices   and   the   sound   of   instruments.   They   are   absent   from   the   image,   however.   This   scene   is   followed   by   absolute   silence;   a   close-­‐up   of   a   hand,   which   tries   to   grab   a   Giant’s   hand.   But   it   is   not   a   child’s   hand   we   see,   as   we   would   expect   from   the   context.   In   a   handheld   shot,   we   see   Florentina’s   hand   attempting   several   times   to   hold   one   of   the   Giants’ hands,   but   she   fails   repeatedly.   Her   failure   is   juxtaposed   with   a   scene   of   severe   noise.   The   use   of   acoustic   stress   not   only   wakes   Florentina   from   her   dream   or   hallucination.   It   is   also   a   reminder   for   the   viewer   that   scenes   of   4

absolute   silence   do   not   belong   to   the   realm   of   the   real.   Drenched   by   heavy   rain,   Florentina   stands  in  the  woods  and  stares  into  nothingness.    

Florentina   is   a   character   who   sees   rather   than   acts.   She   has   little   control   of   her  

situation.   When   she   wants   to   gain   control   of   her   plight,   for   example   through   escape   attempts,   she  is  subjected  to  violence  at  the  hand  of  her  father,  which  renders  her  passive.  She  is  merely   an  observer,  which  means  that  she  cannot  control  the  events  she  is  subjected  to.  If  we  were  to   apply  this  to  trauma  theory,  we  can  also  say  that  Florentina’s  passiveness  is  an  indicator  for   disembodiment.   She   observes   situations   from   the   distance   and   with   detachment   so   as   to   supposedly   minimise   the   impact   of   traumatic   events.   This   is   a   common   means   in   trauma   survivors,  especially  in  rape  victims.      

Returning   to   the   juxtaposition   of   sound   and   silence   in   relation   to   Florentina   and   the  

Giants,  the  sudden  rupture  in  the  soundtrack  not  only  acts  as  a  literal  loss  of  sound;  it  refers   simultaneously   to   a   much   deeper   and   more   symbolic   loss:   Florentina’s   loss   of   childhood.   This   is  implied  in  the  alteration  of  scenes  of  joyous  children  and  Florentina’s  lonely  walks  at  night   through   the   streets   of   an   unnamed   city.   It   is   also   underlined   in   scenes   in   which   we   see   Florentina’s  hand  failing  at  grabbing  a  Giant’s  hand.  Before  she  loses  consciousness  at  the  end   of  the  film,  Florentina  reveals  that  “The  Giants  keep  on  returning.  I  asked  for  their  help.  I  hope   they   come   back.   Those   Giants.   I   hope   they   come   back.   Because   they   will   help   me.” It   is   suggested   that   being   able   to   hold   a   Giant’s   hand,   as   all   the   children   do,   would   generate   a   feeling   of   security   for   Florentina.   It   would   indicate   hope   and   a   relief   from   suffering,   but   she   fails  at  securing  this  several  times  until  close  to  the  end  of  the  film,  when  her  brain  functions   are  failing  more  and  more.      

Silence   in   Diaz’s   film   thus   appears   to   be   an   indicator   for   Florentina’s   loss   of   childhood.  

Yet,  in  fact,  he  alters  the  meaning  of  silence  throughout  the  film.  While  the  absence  of  sound   can  function  as  a  metaphorical  image  of  the  loss  of  childhood  and  of  innocence,  in  other  scenes   silence  implies  the  reverse.     5

 

After  Florentina  disclosed  some  of  her  horrors  for  the  first  time  in  the  film,  a  straight  

cut   brings   us   to   the   woods,   in   which   a   small   girl,   supposedly   Florentina,   jumps   around   as   if   playing.  Indeed,  later  in  the  film  she  explains  that  “we  [the  Giants  and  Florentina]  are  always   playing.   We   play   hide   and   seek   in   the   forest.   We   run   around   the   rocks.   We   frolic   under   the   stars.  We  dance.” Her  child’s  play  in  the  forest  amidst  absolute  silence  underlines  the  themes   of  peace  and  innocence.  The  forest  thus  plays  an  essential  role  in  the  creation  of  a  feeling  of   innocence  and  peace.  It  is  a  repeated  motif    of  refuge  in  the  film.  It  is  established  as  such  at  the   beginning  of  the  film,  when  Florentina  flees  from  the  hands  of  a  man,  who  wants  to  buy  her.   She   escapes   into   the   forest   and   waits   for   her   grandfather.   [still]   Later   in   the   film,   when   she   makes  an  attempt  at  running  away  from  her  father,  she  hides  in  the  forest  again.  She  tries  to   find  a  hiding  place  behind  bushes  and  trees,  and  then  crouches  at  the  right  hand  side  of  the   frame.   A   little   later,   she   lays   on   a   rock   as   if   resting.   [still]   These   scenes   are   accompanied   by   peaceful  ambient  sounds,  which  emphasise  Florentina’s  feeling  of  safety,  and  which  also  gives   the  viewer  a  moment  of  escapism.    

Yet,   the   forest   is   only   a   place   of   assumed   safety.   Florentina   is   caught   by   her   father,  

dragged  home  on  a  leash,  and  chained  to  her  bed.  She  also  discloses  that  “Mother  and  I  always   hide   in   the   forest.   We   crawl   on   the   ground   … but   father   saw   us,   and   caught   up   on   mother.” Hence,   on   the   one   hand,   the   forest   is   an   idyllic   place   of   peace   for   Florentina,   in   which   she   repeatedly  seeks  refuge  and  seemingly  plays  with  the  Giants,  who  give  her  a  sense  of  joy  and   childish  innocence.  On  the  other  hand,  the  forest  fails  to  protect  Florentina  and  causes  her,  her   mother  and  her  grandfather  harm.  Her  mother  is  beaten  to  death  following  her  escape  to  the   forest.  Her  grandfather,  too,  is  beaten.  Thus,  the  forest  is  merely  a  fairy  tale  escape,  which,  in   reality,  aggravates  Florentina’s  suffering.       Conclusion  

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In   conclusion,   then,   I   would   like   to   point   to   a   statement   by   Lav   Diaz   made   in   an  

interview:  “I  want  them  to  struggle  also.” With  them,  he  means  us,  the  audience,  and  the  range   of  sound  he  uses  -­‐  from  acoustic  stress  to  absolute  silence  -­‐  forces  the  viewer  to  struggle  in   metaphorically  similar  ways  to  the  film’s  main  character,  Florentina.      

The   sudden   disruption   of   sound,   and   its   replacement   by   absolute   silence   is   used   to  

convey  aspects  of  trauma,  in  particular  the  effects  of  disorientation  and  loss  of  temporality.      

The  scenes  of  absolute  silence  have  two  main  functions.  First,  as  sound  can  support  a  

preferred   reading   induced   by   the   director,   absolute   silence   allows   the   viewer   to   read   a   specific   scene   in   his   or   her   way.   Second,   the   absence   of   sound   deprives   the   viewer-­‐listener,   of   the  main  sensory  information,  rendering  him  or  her  as  helpless  as  Florentina.      

It   is   the   first   time   Diaz   has   experimented   with   the   power   of   sound   and   silence.  

Throughout  his  six-­‐hour  film,  Diaz  exposes  the  audience  to  repeated  shock  situations,  which   are   similar   to   the   chain   of   traumatic   events   Florentina   has   to   endure;   a   repeated   bashing   of   the  head  against  the  wall,  as  Diaz  describes  it,  sowing  the  seeds  for  a  slow  degeneration  of  the   brain  and  the  gradual  loss  of  memory,  sensory  perceptions,  and,  eventually,  of  life.  

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