A Venice competition slot seems like a strange place for On the Job: The Missing 8, a punishingly long corruption thriller from Filipino genre master Erik Matti that’s soon to be seen as an HBO Asia Original six-episode mini-series. Following on – but not actually a sequel to – the Cannes preemed On the Job from 2013, the story follows a journalist on the take who discovers his moral compass once his newspaper colleagues are massacred by a bunch of jailbirds temporarily let out of prison by the local mayor whenever he needs a dissenting voice bumped off. Matti clearly has yet to encounter an editing suite application he doesn’t want to try, though he’d be better off assisting screenwriter Michiko Yamamoto in developing more than one character. Perhaps it will all work better as a series, but on-screen The Missing 8, while not hateful, feels like it’s definitely missing something.
The shady mayor of La Paz, Pedring Eusebio (Dante Rivero), runs the city like a private fiefdom, enabled by ruthless General Rene Pacheco (Leo Martinez). They’ve got a host of people in their pockets, including Sisoy Salas (John Arcilla), a journalist working for the local paper and radio who uses his platforms to enthusiastically promote Eusebio and his policies even though he knows dirty money is flowing into the mayor’s office. It’s not clear why newspaper publisher Arnel Pangan (Christopher de Leon) tolerates his views given that the daily is critical of the government, but Pangan himself appears to have some secrets.
Eusebio and Pacheco haven’t been happy with their coverage in the paper lately, which makes it a good time for them to unleash their preferred weapon: a team of hitmen taken out of the overcrowded slammer to murder the opposition. This time the target is Pangan, but they don’t realize he’s travelling with 6 of his colleagues plus his 8-year-old son, who happens to be Sisoy’s godson. Despite being faced with a bigger job than expected, the thugs gun them all down in a crowded SUV and then bury the vehicle in a ditch. Only Roman (Dennis Trillo, sporting one of the worst nose prosthetics seen in a very long time) seems remotely uncomfortable with the viciousness of it all, though he keeps quiet, hoping one day he’ll finally be released and go home.
With Pangan out of the way, Eusebio figures he can put Sisoy in his place and ensure positive coverage now that elections near and his son Bernie (Wendell Ramos) is running for vice president. Sisoy however is shaken by the disappearance of his colleagues and godson, and he knows there’s something deeply shady about Bernie’s squeaky-clean image. When a USB sick is found in a secret compartment in Arnel’s desk, the journalist begins to connect the dots, turning on his powerful patron and becoming a target himself of the bloodthirsty political machine.
Much is being made of the fact that the hitmen prisoners are inspired by an actual event, “ripped from the headlines” so to speak, but knowing there’s a version of reality buried somewhere in the story doesn’t mean it’s treated well. Breaking the intolerable length up into chapters – apparently the film is the equivalent of the final four episodes to be shown on HBO Asia – would undoubtedly help, but that won’t make the characters any better drawn. Only Sisoy undergoes any development, and popular actor Arcilla is the sole performer who transforms from caricature to flesh-and-blood. Most are simply cartoonish, played for laughs or just ill-formed, like the largely silent Roman, who broods a lot but otherwise his only personality trait is his schnozz. Other roles seem to be going somewhere, like muckraking Senator Alice Samson (Agot Isidro), but then she disappears, perhaps only reappearing in the series. The blocking of the actors can also be clumsy, such as a scene between Sisoy and Pangan in a toilet, their bodies awkwardly positioned as they argue.
D.p. Neil Derrick Bion overdoes it with the GoPro and motorized dolly shots, and if director Matti ever worked with celluloid, he’s clearly forgotten that each edit is a decision requiring some thought behind the cut. In addition, he’s inordinately fond of trying out every too-easy-to-use digital effect at his fingertips, from iris shots, wipes, split screen, fades, etc., but it just feels silly, even amateurish, which is surprising given his extensive filmography. Tonally he’s having a lot of fun with the music, all covers of classics like “Delilah” and “The Impossible Dream,” sung by crooners impressively approaching the originals. The cranked-up songs have a campy amusement, yet Matti occasionally uses them schizophrenically, such as “We gotta get out of this place” during a vicious prison riot, the lyrics providing a jarring note of ironic humor in a scene that’s full of brutal mayhem.
Director: Erik Matti
Screenplay: Michiko Yamamoto
Cast: John Arcilla, Dennis Trillo, Joey Marquez, Dante Rivero, Lotlot de Leon, Christopher de Leon, Leo Martinez, Andrea Brillantes, Agot Isidro, Wendell Ramos, DJ Chacha, Joric Pecson, Vandolph Quizon, Ina Feleo, Dolly de Leon.
Executive producers: Ronald “Dondon” Monteverde, Erik Matti, Quark Henares, Joe Caliro, Clement Schwebig, Magdalene Ew.
Supervising producers: Stacey Bascon, Michaela Reyes
Cinematography: Neil Derrick Bion
Production design: Roma Regala, Michael Espanol
Costume design: Jac Pequena, Loi Villarama
Editing: Jay Halili
Music: Erwin Romulo, Malek Lopez, Arvin Nogueras
Sound: Steve Vesagas, Corrine de San Jose
Production companies: Reality Entertainment (The Philippines), Globe Studios.
World sales: Warner Media
Venue: Venice Film Festival (competition)
In Tagalog, English
208 minutes
