some notes on gaya sa pelikula (2020)
Manila, 22 November—Juan Miguel Severo’s web series “Gaya Sa Pelikula” (dir. JP Habac) just aired its finale—a fitting ending to its fantastic eight-episode run. The entire series is easily a personal highlight for this quarantine year—these past couple of months, C and I watched Gaya episodes while having lunch or dinner, and our meals have been made better and far more interesting because of them. We’ll miss our weekly peek into the lives of Karl and Vlad, who fell in love over an eventful mid-semester break.
SPOILERS AFTER THIS TRAILER
When we first watched the pilot, we thought it was going to be some trope-y and funny enemies-to-lovers-slash-fake-dating story: It starts with Karl moving into his Uncle Santi’s condo and having to tell off his drunk noisy neighbor, whose loud music is interfering with his late night work tasks. Later, same neighbor barges into Karl’s unit, hiding from his eager sister Judit (no ‘H’) who wants to take him home for the semester break. To escape, Vlad attempts to co-opt Karl on the spot, and tells his sister that he can’t go because he and Karl are lovers, and that he’d like to stay in their apartment for the duration of the break. Karl, who badly needs money for rent, accepts Vlad’s offer in exchange for playing along. The rest, as they say, is history.
Speaking of history: I love it when creators shine a light on the inspiration for their works, so I’m sharing Severo’s thread about it:
I admire how heartfelt and how careful the show has been with the details. On one hand, Vlad is out and proud but newly heartbroken; meanwhile, Karl is still figuring things out, and is so afraid of what he soon finds. What ultimately brings them together: A shared love of movies, which is realized under one roof. From there it unfolds, as in the title, just like in the movies: Karl and Vlad and a blissful in-between, suspended in time.
I loved that in-between the most—it reminded me of a younger time. Charot. Anybody who has ever been young and/or smitten with a film major will tell you, it does feel like being in a movie sometimes. In Dear Karl, Vlad writes him a visual farewell letter. His narration goes: The last month felt like getting drawn into a screen -- a film I wasn’t meant to be in, one I could’ve easily been written out of -- thank you for writing me in. It’s been swell.
For me personally, it felt like closure. The last thing I expected from a show about two boys being in love was to see something that reminded me a bit of myself. I carried that chip on my shoulder for too long—I was nineteen once, too, and yet already exhausted from being constantly written out of somebody else’s story. Standing here today, that already feels like several lifetimes ago. Yet at the time—as with most nineteen-year-old things—it felt all too shattering. I used to say that I wouldn’t have done it any other way, but knowing what I do now, I think I would have done better with a little more patience and a little more kindness.
Anyway. The last two episodes, I think, are the most gutting—with the rest of the fantastic ensemble involved (Vlad’s sister Judit, their neighbor Anna, and Karl’s Uncle Santi) everything comes to a head and reality finally barges in. My favorite detail is one of Vlad’s last moments in Karl’s condo: When he moves out, Vlad steps out of his ‘house slippers’ and into his outdoor Birkenstocks. What a heartbreaking detail to highlight.
In the end, Vlad comes back to have one last conversation with Karl, who apologizes for that night. Come on Karl, Vlad says. Tell me your alternate ending. How would it have ended if we didn’t have to be afraid?
The final montage—that alternate ending—is a re-do of their last dinner, but with Karl and Vlad being an actual couple, out and proud to their most important relations. They’re so happy on-screen, but as a viewer, it feels a bit like the final twist to a knife already stuck in too deep.
Still, I appreciated how, through the characters, we are able to scrutinize issues like allyship and generational differences in experiences among members of the LGBT community, among other issues.
I think that Gaya’s most valuable contribution is the conversation and community it built around itself at a time when many of us are separated from each other and just glued to our screens. I’m lucky to be quarantined with C, but for many members of the community, this isn’t the case. Quarantine and forced distancing can be lonely things, and Gaya was something the community can bond over and watch and discuss together, even when apart.
And while the story isn’t obviously a product of COVID—unlike its contemporaries, which employed video call screens and social media conversations as key storytelling elements and readily put the pandemic as a backdrop—we’ll always remember Gaya as a bright spot for 2020.
Thank you, Gaya Sa Pelikula. May your tribe increase.
Related materials
Gaya sa Pelikula teleplays on Wattpad
This series’ soundtrack is A+++. My favorite track: Nica del Rosario’s Tahanan.
Thanks for making it this far.
XO,
K