When I first read the synopses of the entries in the recently concluded Cinemalaya Film Festival, I knew, decided even, that no matter how terribly it was done, how poorly its actors performed or how unsatisfactorily the story turned out, supposing its overall value was actually going to be below par, I was going to at least like this one particularly entry. It was inevitable, really, considering that the movie in question, Dinig Sana Kita, was going to prominently feature three of my favorite things in the world.

Music. Niña was a troubled, angsty teen who would rather perform with her band than go to school. She turned to her iPod whenever she felt like alienating herself, muffling the noises she had come to associate with her parents and the rest of the world with her earphones. After adding another offense to her not-so-immaculate school record, she was now in danger of facing expulsion. She was, however, given another chance. She agreed to participate in a retreat that would hopefully open her eyes and ultimately help her rectify her ways.

Baguio. She went, albeit reluctantly, to a retreat in the city of Baguio. The retreat brought deaf individuals and persons who, like her, can hear normally together in hopes of making them connect with each other and work in harmony. Unsurprisingly, Niña was being her usual standoffish self while the other participants were enjoying themselves under the lovely Baguio sun. She refused and failed to see the point of the whole thing. That is, until she became friends with Kiko.

Sign language. Kiko knew sign language. He was, after all, one of the Deaf. With a bit of sign language and some improvisation, he and Niña were able to communicate and they eventually forged a bond, a friendship between hearing and hearing-impaired, between a girl who wished she were deaf to the noises that either annoyed or haunted her and a guy who, although incapable of hearing, cared to listen to her in his own special way.

Music. One word: Sugarfree. Aside from making an appearance in the movie, my favorite local band lent their brilliant ballad, Wag Ka Nang Umiyak, to the soundtrack, effectively becoming the unlikely pair’s song. The song was first heard in one of the film’s most unforgettable scenes, where Niña and Kiko shared an inspired moment together. She played the song on a guitar and sang it beautifully (thanks to Zoe Sandejas’ wistful voice), while he “listened,” feeling the music’s vibrations with his hands on the instrument’s hollow body.

Baguio. In contrast to the raucous and chaotic environment of Manila, Baguio was depicted in the movie as the pair’s silent sanctuary. That’s exactly how I see it, too. Having spent one-fifth of my life so far in Baguio, I’ve long ago given the eternally brisk city the distinction of being my absolute favorite place in the world. But Baguio apparently figured in the story not only because of its being generally serene, but also because it is home to some of the most prominent schools for the Deaf in the Philippines. Back in college, while working on my bachelor’s degree, I had the chance to enter and be welcomed to the world of the Deaf through these schools. I made a lot of deaf friends and it wasn’t long before I realized that they’re not as different from us, people who could hear, as I thought they were. Sadly, I also had my eyes opened to the sorry state of special education in the city, which I learned was reflective of the general situation in other key parts of the country. Funding for special education, either from the government and private sectors, was paltry at best and a lot of special educators, including one of my mentors, chose to teach abroad mainly for practical reasons. This issue was tackled briefly by Dinig Sana Kita, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry all over again.

Sign language. If you know me personally or if you’ve been reading my blog long enough, you must already be aware that I am fairly skilled in sign language. This was precisely why I didn’t have to rely on the subtitles every time a character gesticulated for me to understand his or her meaning and, more importantly, why I was able to relate more deeply to the characters, particularly those from the Deaf community. I take my hat off to Romalito Mallari, who is himself deaf, for capturing the nuances of his character with every sign and gesture he made and with every microexpression he showed on his face. Sign language is in itself an art, and Rome, in his acting debut, meshed it with another art form, resulting in a performance that was definitely praiseworthy.

I didn’t get the chance to watch Dinig Sana Kita during the Cinemalaya Film Festival, but I was lucky to have caught it when it was screened at Robinsons Galleria’s IndieSine last week. Towards the end of the movie, I thought there were several scattered performances that looked and sounded quite unnatural and I noticed a number of disadvantageous conveniences that the filmmakers resorted to, most of them concerning the movie’s denouement. But those were easily forgiven, as were its other flaws. After all, I decided long before I got to see it that I was going to, if nothing else, like it no matter what. What do you know? I loved it.