QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM TALLINN

They are young, they are male and they are ready for action. Uno (Jomari Angeles) is the leader of a small group of male prostitutes. They toil inside an erotic movie theatre, located at the heart of a very busy warehouse-style shopping centre. The hustle of bustle takes place in Manila, with its crammed narrow street providing temporary shelter to the boys. One day, curious novice Zion (Miguel Odron) tries to join the gang, after sharing a client (and a few bucks) with Uno. The other members become jealous, particularly cocky Bay, with the perfect chiseled body and a fiery temperament. They instantly reject the new addition. But Zion is hellbent on proving to the group that he can loyal and handy.

The origins of Zion are unclear, with some events suggesting that he may come from a wealthy family. Is he perhaps a shallow Richie Rich seeking testosterone-fuelled thrills? Or maybe the casualty of a dysfunctional home seeking emotional healing? Or perhaps he has a far more secretive agenda? Much of the narrative is built around such questions, as Uno and his associates seek to decipher the shy and yet determined young man, with a discernible spark of honesty of honesty in his eyes. One day, a client dumps group member Ge on the streets after he overdoses on drugs. Zino and Uno come to his rescue, and embark on a mission that will put their newborn relationship to the test.

Petersen Vargas’s fifth feature film aims to offer a realistic peak into the life of sex workers in the capital of the Philippines. In the first third of the movie, there are countless scenes inside the gents (particularly the highly gregarious urinals) and the gay cinema, the two most widely recognised working spots for the prostitutes. Newcomer Odron delivers a very solid performance, vouching for a promising career ahead. He is supported by the far more experienced Angeles (at the age of just 30, he counts more than 10 movies to his credit, including Brillante Mendoza’s acclaimed Ma’ Rosa, from 2016). Vargas attempts to infuse the cold and transactional relationships with some warmth, fraternity and perhaps even a little romance.

Despite the director’s noble intentions of giving a highly marginalised group a humanistic and dignified representation, Some Nights I Feel Like Walking repeatedly stumbles on its journey towards some sort of realism, or at least relatability. The sex depictions are extremely timid for a film that uses prostitution as a central pillar. The script is a little clumsy. The plot often bumbles around aimlessly instead of strutting ahead. What started out as an urban drama becomes a road movie of sorts as the group takes a dead member to his home in the countryside. The parabolical ending, with a message of social acceptance, is predictable and lame. The representation of the LGBT+ community feels rather stagey, while some of the allegorical aesthetics (such as pink and purple lighting, and the constant fog machine) are just too cliched.

A movie with its heart in the right place. And other parts of its anatomy all over.

Some Nights I Feel Like Walking just premiered in the Official Competition of the 28th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.