Kasal

For more than a decade, the emergence of LGBTQIA-themed films in our independent cinema have flocked our home video collections, and even Robinson Cinemas. It began with all the good intentions, but when producers saw this as an opportunity for revenue, it snowballed like hell. Like or not: sex sells. Much more if two or more men are in the same bed. This sad cycle in the history of our local cinema ultimately produced some of the most inferior, self-oppressive and tasteless works for the sake of getting favorable production returns. These, so-called (H)Indie Film have dug a deeper margin for the LGBTQIA, and has misled a public on the what our advocacies really are. That is why when Director Joselito Altarejos brings in KASAL (2014) in Cinemalaya, one can't help but sit with justifiable qualms, and nervous reservations. In an era where we normally see LGBTQIA-themed movies in an exclusive sections in our Astrovisions and Odysseys, having another entry of its kind is something we just don't need.

But Altarejos proves them wrong. KASAL is a film that explores back door issues surrounding our cries for equality. It is not a total flesh feast, nor an array of intolerable acting, but a presentation of silent oppression. It carefully presents a strong argument on why we have been fighting for the basic right to marriage. Note worthy are the performances of its two leads. Arnold Cruz Reyes and new comer Oliver Aquino, both gave strong portrayals of two lovers who are trapping themselves in a circumstance they can't escape from.

There were unnecessary scenes, and a prolonged soft-porn moment (uuuuy, manonood na yan!), but it argues an issue that has been around these past years. It successfully depicts how cultural and religious oppressions bring forth our personal and emotional struggles. As a whole, KASAL somehow ties a justifiable knot.

What happens when a long-term gay couple attends a wedding that reminds them they don't have the same rights? That's the emotional gut-punch of Kasal (The Commitment), a powerful indie film by Joselito Altarejos.

The film follows Paolo and Sherwin, a couple on a road trip to a wedding-but instead of a romantic getaway, their journey becomes a deep dive into love, commitment, and exclusion. Through casual conversations about adoption, annulment, and family pressure, Kasal subtly reveals the cracks in their relationship and the harsh truth that no matter how strong their love is, the institution of marriage still shuts them out.

One of the film's most heartbreaking moments? Paolo storming out of the wedding after hearing that marriage is "only for a man and a woman." It's quiet, but it says everything.

With its raw storytelling and sharp social commentary, Kasal flips the usual LGBTQ+ film narrative. This time, it's the gay couple observing straight relationships-questioning why they're treated differently when their love is just as real.

The ending? Painfully open-ended. But that's the point-because for couples like Paolo and Sherwin, the fight for recognition is still unfinished.

Boring plot, lazy editing, and unexciting scenes. This was not even enjoyable to watch. If it not for Arnold Reyes's performance this would be a completely forgettable film. It was thought-provoking at times but what disturbed me was the scenes that felt like it was not properly edited. And I was waiting for a plot twist but even that was lacking.

In Kasal (The Commitment), Joselito Altarejos crafts a deeply introspective road film that serves as both an exploration of love and commitment and a quiet protest against the institution of marriage. The film follows Paolo and Sherwin, a long-term gay couple en route to a wedding, but their journey becomes more than just physical-it is a slow unraveling of their relationship, their personal struggles, and their place in a society that refuses to recognize them.

Altarejos cleverly flips the perspective of many LGBTQ+ films. Instead of portraying same-sex relationships as something unusual or deviant under the heterosexual gaze, here, it is the gay couple observing heterosexual relationships-noticing both the absurdities and privileges of a system that excludes them.

Through a series of conversations-about adoption, annulment, shotgun weddings, and family expectations-Paolo and Sherwin are forced to confront their own uncertainties. Sherwin remains closeted to his family, unable to express his truth, while Paolo, despite his past mistakes, longs for a future where their love is legitimized. But is that future even possible?

The most powerful moment comes at the wedding itself, where Paolo, upon hearing the priest declare marriage as "only between a man and a woman," walks out and smokes outside the church. It's a simple but devastating act-a silent rebellion, a moment of resignation, and an unresolved question all at once.

By the film's end, Altarejos offers no easy answers. The couple, once bound together in a car, now sits in silence-their relationship, like the film itself, left open-ended. One of them continues to film the wedding vows of the newlyweds, a poetic visual metaphor for their own exclusion from the institution they have spent the entire film interrogating.

Kasal is a rare and intelligent piece of queer cinema-unapologetic in its politics, restrained in its drama, and unrelenting in its critique of the systems that define love and belonging. It doesn't just ask whether Paolo and Sherwin can survive as a couple-it asks why they are still forced to fight for the right to even try.