There is no one way to tell the story of millions of Overseas Filipino Workers around the world, and no single experience that can readily define the complexity of their lives. Contradiction itself may very well be the common thread, and this is what Irene Emma Villamor’s Midnight Girls so patiently illustrates—that pride and shame often have to coexist in such demanding lines of work.
This is especially true for the film’s four main characters, who all make a living as night club hostesses in Nagoya, Japan. While the movie chooses to emphasize how their jobs often entail providing entertainment and casual companionship to male Japanese clients, this occupation could become sex work as well. And even without this aspect, these women are brought to Japan via temporary marriages—working long hours to pay off the debt incurred from migrating abroad, and also to keep earning money for their families back home.
Villamor approaches all this with a remarkably mature eye, and with a sensitive script (co-written with Rod Marmol) that allows the dignity of these characters to speak for itself. And with four strong central performances in unison, Midnight Girls remains deeply empathetic, even when these women have to make difficult decisions.
It’s always interesting to see how Filipino filmmakers choose to depict foreign countries—often bringing a renewed sense of wonder to popular tourist destinations, or to phenomena seen outside a tropical climate (such as snow or autumn colors). Midnight Girls keeps some of this sense of wonder, especially in shots of cherry blossoms embracing the screen. But for the most part, cinematographer Pao Orendain directs his focus toward the neons of Nagoya nightlife and the loneliness underneath. Villamor directs in these locations with a certain modesty—never showing off the luxury of this first-world country because, to these characters, this place has become another home, too. Japan is no longer this romanticized destination but an extension of the characters’ native world in the Philippines.
Many Filipino films today rely on images of virtual communication, be it through text messages or video calls. At times this can lead to generally bland visuals, the screen filled with tedious speech bubbles or talking heads. It’s a wonder that the video call conversations in Midnight Girls are as engaging as they are. This could be because of Villamor’s restraint in their use. Through sobriety and subtlety, she compels us to consider the geographical and emotional distance between characters on either end of the line. That their communication feels hindered by these digital screens isn’t a result of clunky filmmaking, but is a real expression of the frustration experienced by OFWs everywhere.
Japan is no longer this romanticized destination, but an extension of the characters’ native world in the Philippines
The movie regularly returns to a third type of image—the interview footage conducted with real Filipino hostess workers living in Japan. These scenes aren’t unwelcome; if anything, they provide additional emotional weight and useful context that informs the characters’ stories. But they’re occasionally deployed in odd moments, and Renard Torres’ editing may at times lose the momentum of the film’s various conflicts.
Still, the Midnight Girls story moves well, with every protagonist receiving ample screen time—no one outshines the other or render the other story less.
Crucial to making these characters compelling is the fact that they’re imperfect and seemingly incongruous with one another. Each woman is fighting a markedly different battle on her own—be it family, lover, or self-identity—and when they collide, given the stress of their shared work, it’s always clear why they might be so stubborn or afraid to reach out.
However, that the movie only tells us about the women’s difficult “clients” and now show these rough interactions does risk making their work seem less risky than it is. Violence is implied and generally comes off sanitized. When another character reveals involvement in a criminal gang, the admission is so abrupt that it lacks gravity.
Thankfully, Villamor and Marmol’s script primarily sticks to sketching out the internal struggles that rage in these women. In this respect, Midnight Girls makes for a wonderfully dignified character study, the precarity of their jobs inevitably shaping how they manage all of their relationships.
For Vicky ( Jodi Sta. Maria), the oldest and most experienced of the four women, her somewhat cold pragmatism gives her real authority and self-assurance in Nagoya, but proves far less useful when she tries to remotely parent her teenage son Patrick (Zaijian Jaranilla). His naivety and growing awareness of social justice make him question Vicky’s choices—in turn, disrupting her sense of control. Jaranilla’s acting is surprisingly affecting even if he’s seen only on a phone screen, and Sta. Maria’s grounded character, with its barely concealed shame, is authentic in every moment.
Arguably the most impressive performance comes from Jane Oineza, whose no-nonsense Saki shows earnestness and protective instinct, even when she is only in the background of a scene. For all her quiet toughness, the gender dysphoria that she feels—coupled with the unrequited love she struggles with—makes her an especially complex character, given that her work requires her to be confident in her feminine appeal. When Oineza has the screen to herself, she provides a rich, painful portrait of one stranded away from one’s home and one’s own body.
In bubblier roles, Loisa Andalio (as Wanna) and Sanya Lopez (as Paris) are convincingly immature and innocent, respectively, while juggling the pressures of multiple jobs and complicated romances. Even the Japanese actors playing smaller roles are credibly understated, inhabiting scenes without self-consciousness. All this is a testament to Villamor, who understands the ecosystem that her ensemble forms. The contrasting personalities on screen ultimately point toward a system of care that these working people maintain just to reach their dreams together.
‘Midnight Girls’ is in cinemas.
