A Not-So Review: Exhuma

Earlier this year, I met Vanessa and Elah for an afternoon dine-out. It was the first time we had met after a long while (the last time was at Ryan’s post-birthday celebration in Bulacan, and Elah wasn’t there). It was quite funny that we set our get-together on the very last stretch of Holy Week. This meant some establishments were still closed, there was no traffic but fewer transportation options available, including train commutes, and the roads were eerily deserted, almost like a red carpet welcoming serial killers after months of hibernation.

This was the exact scene that greeted us in the afternoon at SM Sta. Mesa upon our arrival. It was breezy and muted, with a few plastic bags adding to the unfamiliar horror of the area, which was probably riotous with a busy crowd and honking roads just a week ago. Still, it was peaceful to walk down the once-familiar sidewalk with Elah, who was with me at PUP, along with the rest of the squad. This sidewalk was no stranger to our rigorous footsteps during those moments when we felt like marching our way to the air-conditioned mall. It was usually packed with sweaty scholars, briskly walking in their sun-touched shirts, hoping that the vicinity would cool down their deep worries as striving students and laborious commuters. But that day, we were neither of these; we were promoted to slaves for capitalism (in case the term “money whore” is not appropriate). Such a promotion is also lawfully bestowed along with an annual holiday break (if the employer follows Philippine holidays) to reflect during Holy Week. Since Elah, Vanessa, and I were all available, we took the chance to finally catch up. I met with Elah first at PITX, and together we journeyed along the people-less route to SM Sta. Mesa.

We were supposed to meet around 2 pm. As expected, the prettiest girl always arrives late. It wasn’t clear, however, if she should come one hour past the discussed time. We were finally complete at 3 pm.

Of course, to compensate for her beauty, Vanessa offered to shoulder a portion of our combined bill. We ate in a Korean-inspired restaurant, and I only enjoyed the taste of tteokbokki. Initially, we planned to go to the cinema and watch the then-trending Korean movie called Exhuma. However, to our surprise, it was no longer available for showing. Our plan was disrupted, and with no other option left, we decided to just fill our disappointment with Korean dishes.

Four months later, I found myself rating the same film with four stars on Letterboxd. While writing my mini-review on my IG story, I breathed a sigh of disappointment:

Exhuma was yet another film that I wish I had seen in the cinema.

Despite the lingering thoughts left with me, I still found myself satisfied with how the film concluded. Sure, I didn’t completely understand the gruesome history of the Japanese general and everything entailed. Yet, it didn’t feel like there was a big hole in the story for that reason. Perhaps it was the overall experience that convinced me that this wasn’t enough of a hindrance to liking the film.

I guess I have seen a handful of faces of horror across different movies that, throughout the years, I no longer feel the chill of seeing a ghost when I watch a horror film. Of course, I still get haunted to an extent, but I feel disappointed that it can only do so on a surface level.

I get scared, but what’s next about it?

Usually, I will just sleep the horror away, and like any other film, it will be a forgettable experience. However, with Exhuma, I felt at ease with the discomfort and was driven by curiosity.

I appreciated that the ghost in Arc 1 was not the usual ghostly face to jumpscare people. It was inexplicably fuzzy and kind of shadowy but still looked like a human form. I really liked that it mostly appeared in the reflection of mirrors. By doing this, I tended to be more attentive to the scene, especially when there was a chance for me to spot the ghost in a reflection. This touch of interaction, whether intentional or not, made me engaged in the course of the first act.

The readily thrown shaman jargons from the outset might throw someone off. As for me, it wasn’t an issue but turned out to be a source of curiosity. I was also genuinely amazed at how they performed the ritual (if that’s what they call it) in an authentic way. It was, yes, performative, but it felt like an honest ritual that wasn’t made just to impress the viewers for another layer of entertainment. Kim Go Eun has proved her artistry once again in this film. I couldn’t see a peeping trace of her previous characters, and she gracefully introduced Hwa-Rim to us. She had a bold disposition and seemed to be very focused on something when she set her mind to it. And with Go Eun’s acting, I had a glimpse of how a shaman looked and how they drove bad spirits away. She didn’t look awkward performing the ritual, and her devouring the pig’s clotted blood was truly mesmerizing.

Of course, the whole cast was exceptional and provided great support to Go Eun. I got honestly distracted whenever Lee Do-Hyun flashed his tattoos, as they were such a perfect match for his man bun. This film almost convinced me to become his fan. And the Feng Shui Master, Sang Deok, who I later found out after searching the cast, was the Old Boy!!! (I haven’t seen it, but his face is familiar). Was it a star-studded film then?

Regarding the Japanese general, I actually liked that it was a giant instead. I didn’t find it corny as some redditors revealed in their testimonies. Even the fireball was really cool and such a unique element for a horror story.

I guess my age might be a factor for this reasoning, but I really enjoy films when they are intentional but not too overt with their theme. When one hears horror, the first thing that comes to mind is probably ghosts, demons, and exorcism with loads of jumpscares to scare the hell out of you. And throughout the years, more and more productions have been dutifully serving them to the cinema. Sadly, not everything they put out there has lived up to what horror means. With Exhuma, I really appreciated that it has a combination of Japanese and Korean folklore, ghosts in a nebulous form, family traditions and superstitions, Feng Shui, and shamans. These elements were effectively executed to create a horror masterpiece in a day and age where this genre is starting to lose its core and value.

If you are into this kind of horror, I strongly recommend Exhuma for you to try.

A Not-So Review: Maharaja

One good thing about lurking on Facebook, after getting tired of hopping between Instagram, Reddit, Twitter, and occasionally Pinterest, is the rare luck I find while scrolling through my feed. It’s been ages since I frequently used this platform whenever boredom struck me. It used to be my go-to app when I wanted to binge on contents and posts, regardless of their relevance to me. Since I migrated to Twitter and eventually Instagram years ago, my perception of Facebook shifted, and I found it no longer catered to my social media needs.

It was just recently when I felt the need to use it again. Basically, I only access it through my web browser (my pride won't let me install it again) when I want to check notifications and share my blog posts. While there, I also spend some time scrolling. Since updating my settings and only following pages I like, I enjoy seeing good content that I don't usually come across on Twitter or Instagram. Like a couple weeks ago, I came across movie suggestions where a particular film was mentioned and was showered with praise in the comment section. 

"The best film yet this year".

"This film had me on the edge of my seat".

"The plot twist!"

These are among the many reviews I saw on Facebook. My urge to watch it intensified when I also saw a Reddit post discussing the film, and I didn’t find any strikingly negative comments. That’s why we decided last Monday, while having dinner, to finally give this film that everyone has been talking about— Maharaja —a shot.

Maharaja is a 2024 Indian film about a barber who seeks vengeance after his “Lakshmi” is stolen by three masked burglars. To everyone’s great surprise, this “Lakshmi” is neither a prized possession nor a family member. It is a used dustbin, lovingly stowed in one spot of their home like a deity figure.

The film opens ludicrously— with familiar Bollywood sounds, slapstick sequences that sometimes fall into dry amusement, and a rather hurried start. The next thirty minutes, or perhaps the entire hour-long runtime, seemed intended to contort our faces into the ugliest expressions possible as we tried to make sense of what was happening. I felt like another ten years had been added to my age due to the stress of trying to figure out where the film was leading me. It all started—or rather, the film made us believe it started—after his daughter left for a sports camp. I thought it would be a typical night for Maharaja, but there were rubble and debris all over his house, and amidst it all, he lay on his side, unconscious and obviously wounded.

After he regained consciousness, he went to file a complaint at the police station. It was revealed that his house had been burglarized, but what concerned him most was his “Lakshmi,” their cherished dustbin. This threw the entire police station into chaos, as they were convinced he was a madman. Who on earth would file a complaint over a dustbin? It would make sense if it had jewelries or was made of gold or some expensive material. However, it was just a goddamn dustbin!

The inspector didn’t believe him (who would, really?), but when he was willing to spend his money for its sake, they started to humor him. They began their investigation, and the inspector formed a team to help him replicate the dustbin and eventually get the money they wanted. However, as they made progress, and the story unfolded, the truth slowly emerged, and things began to fall into place. 

It is especially true that we tend to project an emotional connection to items that hold sentimental value and specific memories by giving them names. I experienced this, particularly during my childhood, when I used to name my Barbie dolls in an effort to make them feel real and relatable. I would always choose fancy names like Tiffany, Chloe, and Margo, which suited their appearances perfectly. However, as I grew older, certain things sadly faded into the past. While some people might still have the tendency to name their personal belongings, I no longer do so, as life has changed.

That’s why, despite it raising a few eyebrows, I understand that Maharaja naming a not-so-special dustbin might stem from an emotional bond that has yet to be revealed from the outset of the story. 

But why "Lakshmi?"

Lakshmi was introduced to us early in the movie. It was a used dustbin, with no signs of its once shiny iron skin. Despite its weary appearance, it was clear that Maharaja and his daughter Jothi no longer treated it as a mere dustbin, but with an almost sacred reverence-- akin to a deity figure. And to my surprise, upon researching it, Lakshmi is actually a Hindu goddess that symbolizes wealth, fortune, and prosperity. In the story, as we found out the truth in the end, we could say that the dustbin was indeed a fortune as it was the one who saved Jothi from death.

We could say that “Lakshmi,” the name of their dustbin, played a huge role in the story. It piqued our curiosity and drew us into the mystery. Why was Maharaja so desperate to recover this seemingly ordinary dustbin? What secrets did it hold that made him willing to spend a fortune just to have the police track it down and return it to him? 

Initially, the inspector and his team thought Maharaja was a madman. However, through relentless investigations, they soon realized that the barber was hiding something about the dustbin. Maharaja wasn’t crazy; he was after something, using them more than they were using him. If it meant making his plan easier to execute, Maharaja was willing to spend his fortune for it.

The answers were yet to be revealed, but one thing was certain: Lakshmi was no ordinary dustbin, and Maharaja was definitely hiding something beneath it. Later in the story, we discovered that Lakshmi wasn’t actually stolen; he had hidden it under his daughter’s hospital bed. This scene also revealed what really happened to him and his daughter that night when we found him unconscious at home. It wasn’t a burglary, and he wasn’t beaten up. Everything was due to revenge, leading to a series of revelations and twists.

The film wasn’t linear. The story deviated from what we initially thought or what they led us to believe, strategically weaving the past and present to baffle us. Honestly, I was tricked, and the whole time I still had no idea what was going on until Selvam spotted a familiar gold necklace with a footprint pendant, just after Jothi confronted him. This was the monumental juncture in the film where the truth and the anticipated twist were finally revealed.

I would say the build-up of tension and the anticipation of the twist were all worth it in the end. It wasn’t lame and definitely deserved the buzz it generated across the internet.

Is it worth the hype? Yes, definitely. Maharaja is the kind of film people can enjoy when they have no idea what to watch during their spare time. The night we watched it, I was bored. Since I had nothing else to do, I decided to give it a shot, hoping it would meet my expectations set by the hype. This film can stir your curiosity and maybe even pique your interest—it’s a good choice when you want to spend 2 or 3 hours on something thrilling. If you’re not too strict with technicalities, you can overlook some of the action scenes. I wasn’t expecting the few gore scenes, as the film initially didn’t seem to head in that direction.

Is it the best film of the year? Surely not. Among all the films in this category so far, there could be one better than Maharaja. It is worth the hype but somewhat overrated. It has an interesting plot but could improve in terms of execution and production. With a bigger budget, the CGI could be more realistic, and the action scenes more thrilling. The intention to intensify the trajectory was there, but unfortunately, it fell flat due to poor CGI effects, making the scenes feel cheap and unexciting. The sound effects during punching, kicking, and stunts also sounded unrealistic and quite distracting.

Overall, Maharaja is a 3/5 film for me. The plot is very interesting. The inclusion of Lakshmi, a dustbin, as a decoy to keep viewers engaged and thinking is commendable. The fact that this is a revenge drama with a unique element like a dustbin is intriguing. The non-linear narrative helps build tension and keeps the story a big jigsaw puzzle for the viewers. Sadly, the execution was the biggest issue and could have made it a near-perfect film if the action scenes were more realistic. Despite these lapses, Maharaja still offers an enjoyable experience.