Khavn De La Cruz - Accept that the author in front of you is consciously being insane so you don't have to go looking for anything as boring as sanity: Soil for breakfast, soil for lunch, soil for dinner. Soil for snacks. Don't tell me we'll be having soil on my first birthday

Khavn De La Cruz, Ultraviolins, University of Hawaii Press, 2009.

read it at Google Books

khavn.com

Ultraviolins is a collection of 14 short stories by Khavn, first published by the University of the Philippines Press in 2008 and subsequently, by the University of Hawaii Press in 2009. It is his first book of fiction.
On the book cover, National Artist for Literature Bienvenido Lumbera cautions you to "Accept that the author in front of you is consciously being insane so you don't have to go looking for anything as boring as sanity."

Ultraviolins is considered the first Filipino post-modern book of short stories. Postmodern storytelling, however, has been appropriated before, just not as a collection of short stories and some not even published yet. Works of note include Roland Tolentino's Microfiction, Mykel Andrada's Rizal In Dapitan, Allan Derain's Iskrapbuk, Eros Atalia's Suicide Manual, Norman Wilwayco's How I Fixed My Hair After A Rather Long Journey, Edgar Samar's Eight Spirits Of The Fall, and Mes de Guzman's Rancho Dyango.

Khavn is generally better known as a very experimental digital filmmaker, and this aesthetic: the manufactured reality, the editing techniques, the self-referentiality, the pungent prose, the grimy imagery—even down to how Khavn cuts his lines—is found in Ultraviolins.
Amerika is an angry and self-conscious contemplation of the meaning of Amerika—yes, with the “k”—initially reminiscent of Allen Ginsberg’s own long-form piece of basically the same name although Ginsberg’s anger is met with sarcasm in Khavn's. Dedbol is a series of disjointed dagli about random people—a serial killer, some kidnappers, a four-piece band, and girls on a shower party—converging for a split second in the Divine Intersection before splitting up again to conclude their narratives, borrowing Guillermo Arriaga’s narrative conceit from the seminal McOndo movie Amores perros only lacking the social and political implications of the original. “Ang Ipis Sa Loob ng Basurahan” is a post-Kafka humanized depiction of a cockroach stuck inside a trashcan deciding to build a home for itself in the interim before its expected escape and sudden death by way of slipper-squashing.

One of the stories in Ultraviolins, the Family That Eats Soil, was first published in 2005, as part of the Philippine Speculative Fiction Sampler. Cory Doctorow of Boing Boing calls the anthology of stories, "pretty fascinating and often good", singling out The Family That Eats Soil as an example.
The Family That Eats Soil tells the story of a family that eats soil three times a day. It premiered at the 34th International Film Festival Rotterdam in 2005. The Village Voice criticized it as a "brown comedy" that is a "fast-forward favorite at the festival's video library". On the other hand, critic Alexis Tioseco praised the film as a highly political "dystopian view of the modern Filipino family. The repetitive chorus of the film that breaks up the separate stories of the individual family members is the image of a family meal, eating soil."- wikipedia

Refreshingly original, irreverent, even kinky - a spicy read on any humdrum day.- F. Sionil Jose

These works defy easy categorization, which is perhaps the source of their power and appeal. Here, for example, I remember Italo Calvino at his playful best; there I hear Richard Brautigan. The dark humor is bracing, and Ultraviolins reminds us that there is and should be more than one way to see and present the reality of these crazy islands.- Jose Y. Dalisay, Jr.

Khavn insists on art that defies easy sentiment, that rejects a greeting card heaven for field trip sin purgatory, that brings to earth, as it were, "not peace but a sword."- Charlson Ong

Remove all the consciousness you learned for reading stories and poems from elementary to college. Accept that the author in front of you is consciously being insane so you don't have to go looking for anything as boring as sanity. Khavn is Khavn, poet, musician, filmmaker, special, unique, original.

- Bienvenido Lumbera

 Demented 'post-modern' stories. Ultraviolence (from Burgess's Clockwork orange) is without doubt Khavn's specialty, evident more vividly in his films. The chilling gore, the dark and grim surivival to the fittest ambiance of his films, however, are only nominally present in this collection of stories. The post-modern element in the stories of course make them interesting, but the treatment of violence almost bordered on what Fredric Jameson called the 'waning of the affect'; that is, Khavn exploited violence to much to the point that its essential brutality has disintegrated. Violence is not only a source of fun for the author, but the author also interpellates the reader to participate in the 'fun'. To put simply, 'Ultraviolins' transformed violence into a hobby, a recreation, literally, like reading a book.- John Levi

 ULTRAVIOLINS (UP Press, 2008) is one gamut of mind-benders that let loose the imagination of its readers, giving testament to the eternal creative unrest of Cinemanila International Film Festival Award recipient Khavn Dela Cruz. From the vulnerable adulterer to the desperate amnesic, Ultraviolins gives unconventional yet appealing descriptions and narrations of Filipino living, with an accompanying host of translations from Filipino writers such as Pearlsha Abubakr, Juaniyo Arcellena, Daryl Valenzuela, Angelo R. Lecuesta and many others.
“Adultorero” (“Aldulterer” translated by Pearlsha Abubakr), the first literary piece of the anthology, tells of a man who one night sets out to find sexual gratification. He wanders the streets and beds a prostitute, hoping to forget his frustrations with his wife. The escapade however backfires, because he cannot help seeing his wife in the other woman. The crescendo of the poem does not easily abate thanks to the intense emotion of the adulterer during the act of adultery. The English translation of Abubakr gave less color to the poem due to the words she used to translate it, which seemed less effective to convey the emotion of the poem.
Another piece of Khavn’s unusual literary genius is “Ang Bagong Katipunan” (“The New Brotherhood” translated by Juaniyo Arcallena). The story speaks of the life of a gangster in search of the perfect brotherhood. Day-to-day experiences motivate numerous endeavors such as killings, teenage dilemnas and random heists like the procurement of love potions. As illuminating as the development of the brotherhood, it ends in a transformation of the gangster, from the brooding and violent man to a more mature one, through the pain of losing the brotherhood he painstakingly built around him. The author gives a good and exciting flow of events that shows a life of a very believable gangster.
“Dedbol” (“Deadball” translated by Daryl A. Valenzuela), in an almost tangled way of telling stories, presents a series of unconnected events that intersect at one point, leading to an exchange of endings. The first of the four “mini-stories” tells of a serial killer who is bored with luring beautiful women and extracting their hearts, which he collects in glass jars. The second is an attempt by a traffic aide and an ex-convict to kidnap a political figure that eventually turns out to be a cakewalk of a crime. The third tells of a band that picks up a child they ran over and the last story is about four ladies headed for a bachelorette party with a stripper whom they took to the bride-to-be’s home.
The fateful exchange happens when the Divine Intersection, an event cum being from beyond the fourth wall of the story occurs wherein they trade the contents of their vehicles—the collection of hearts goes to the band, the kid to the serial killer, the stripper to the kidnappers and the congressman to the bachelorette. The intricate web that connects all four stories depicts Khavn’s ingenious and restless mind. He gives various sides to a story and comes up with alternate endings that readers would most likely enjoy as opposed to predictable and conventional ones.
“Nokturno” (“Nocturne” translated by Angelo R. Lecuesta) tells the story of a man in his early 20’s who seeks to score on women at nighttime just to kill boredom. Ultimately, he eventually meets Tess, a curvaceous mench who gives in to his seduction but then refuses an invitation to bed. The ending cuts the suspense short that readers might want to know.
Despite the brilliance of Ultraviolins, Khavn Dela Cruz puts too much imagery in his stories and poems that it almost threatens effective comprehension of the work.
But despite the struggle to perceive Khavn’s restless mind, it all seamlessly connects to the Filipino way of thought and social conformity.
As a whole, Ultraviolins is a raw but genuine attempt to break through the normal conventions of short stories and poems and acts as a fluent introduction to comical postmodernism.- Robin G. Padilla

Excerpt from the introduction by Jun Cruz Reyes:

Are you looking for a story you've already read? This isn't it. Are you looking for a love story about some poor/rich girl with melancholic eyes, skin like porcelain, legs so white they practically gleam, who falls in love with a tall dark and handsome rich/poor guy? And poor is really rich and evil relatives either die or repent from the sin of going against true love? This isn't it either. This also isn't about the valor and triumph over adversity of the downtrodden. This is also isn't about urban legends. This also isn't about the gay life. This also definitely isn't Bob Ong.

What is it, then? A compendium of stories. Story here being used loosely to imply a form that looks suspiciously like one, because what it says it says in a way that's storylike. But the forms shape-shift wildly without relaxing into anything resembling a conventional story form. Poems that look like prose, but don't consider prose poetry as its forebear. Synopsized movie scripts leeched of film language so it's easier to read. Flash fiction for being miniscule, or even creative nonfiction for looking like a confessional essay. Blog entry, term paper. This is the new shape of narrative, the postmodern story, as they say.

How do you read it now? This is the first book of fiction by Khavn De La Cruz. Khavn you know more from his independent films, for kickstarting the digital revolution in the Philippines. His works - postmodern, avant, experimental- are seen more in other countries than in his own. Khavn is also a poet. He also leads the mock-rock band The Brockas. He'd also like you to know that he's also a storyteller. A postmodern storyteller, if you will....

The Family That Eats Soil
Khavn De La Cruz
1
“Soil again,” groaned Baby, who was turning one on Saturday. “Soil for breakfast, soil for lunch, soil for dinner. Soil for snacks. Don’t tell me we’ll be having soil on my first birthday.” “There, there, child,” said Mother. “I promise we won’t have soil.” “What then?” “It’ll be a surprise.” The words were barely uttered as Baby’s face lit up while munching on stewed soil.
*
“Aaaah! Aaaah!” In a dark alley in Suburville, the eighth teenager was having his way with Sister who was as beautiful and frigid as a mannequin while being recorded on video by the next kid in line. “Aaaah! Aaaah!”
*
“Please pass the fish sauce,” said Father. Someone passed the fish sauce. Still, Father thought, he hadn’t gotten it. So he went to the sea and caught some fish and fermented it until it because fish sauce. Father’s finally happy. No thanks to his good-for-nothing children.
*
“So? Are you gonna confess or not?” Whoever Brother was asking couldn’t answer, confession or not. Because his eyes were bulging, his mouth gagged and his head was in a vise-grip. “Motherfucker! You’re really bullheaded!” Brother whipped a metal pipe and crushed his chest.
*
Mother cut herself on a chipped plate while washing the dishes. Blood mixed with water in the sink. Mother’s fingers continued to bleed as she remained oblivious to the war between blood and water.
2
“Your cooking’s really great, Mother! You’re the best!” said Brother, even as he stopped himself from puking out latest dish of soil. He felt it wasn’t cooked enough. And too salty. But he couldn’t find the strength to say anything to hurt his mother. Not even during that one time when she kicked him hard. However much bad the cooking was. Because it was clear that he wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for his mother. Brother knew how to be grateful. Exemplary child of an exemplary mother in an exemplary family.
*
Father was mixing up a new medicine concoction from the dextrose bottles he had taken from children’s ward of Troma Hospital. During their break, the nurses and doctors were whispering conspiratorially at the canteen. Father had just come up with his new brew in his basement lab early that morning and named it “Gardener.” Once it enters the bloodstream, all the red blood cells turn red and plants will sprout from every orifice: eyes, mouth, nose, ears, asshole, etc. In other words, you’re dead meat. The children’s ward of Troma Hospital smells lovely.
*
Sister still doesn’t have an appetite. Is it because she’s on a diet. Is it because she’s stoned. Is it because she doesn’t like stewed soil. Is it because she’s had too much spunk. Is it because she’s deliberately starving herself for her date later with Prince Charming. Is it because Father always gets mad at her for coming after her midnight curfew. It is because she had a tiff with Mother about the new curtain’s color in the sala. It is because she thinks Brother stinks to high heavens. It is because she’s grossed out by Baby who refuses to wear diapers or any underwear, walking around in all his fresh glory. It is because her soul is in another dimension and food tastes better there. It is because her soul is next door where the new tenant is a hot-looking bachelor. It is because she has no more will to live. It is because she doesn’t like eating with her family anymore and doesn’t believe in the saying “The Family That Eats Together Stays Together”. It is because she really has no appetite.
*
When Mother wasn’t looking, Baby slipped out of the house, went to the bus stop, headed straight for Aparri, passed by Tawi-Tawi, stopped over at Libangon, then went back home, all this before Mother looked at the crib and cooed, “Kuchi-kuchi coo, I love you!”
*
Mother still doesn’t want to sit down. Hands over the rice here. Gets a glass of water there. Since Father forbade Mother to get a maid, Mother became the maid. Father’s a real class act. Imagine, your maid has a PhD in Economics, president and founder of Arkweist, graduated summa and valedictorian from grade school until post-grad, aside from the fact that she’s your mother.
3
Sister’s the best. Every hole in her body has a “Welcome” sign. Be it a wound. Be it her navel. Be it infected. Be it gets worse. Then again, what are her doctor-clients for? She’s a real pro.
*
“Please pass the soy sauce,” said Father. He doesn’t really need soy sauce to complete his dinner. In fact, just a drop would be enough to turn his stuffed soil dish into a culinary delight and make him puke when he sleeps. He just has his crazy fits. And he wants you to have it, too.
*
The police are once more chasing Brother and his gang. It doesn’t seem to matter how much you pay them off, their pockets are really deep. Ester got hit. He’s down. Brother can’t stop to help even if they got circumcised at the same time, de-virginized at the same time at Bad Luck Club by a whore with FDT, killed their first Chinese at the same time. Because he knows a bullet is a bullet is a bullet. Because he knows, the Chinese guy had paid the cops double. Because he knows, things like this happen in war. Us versus You. To hell with dead friends.
*
Baby’s sleeping on Mother’s bosom. Hungry as hell. A bottle of powdered milk’s stuck up in nose, a mixture of cow and goat’s milk is running on IV through his veins, while he’s suckling poor Mother’s teats.
*
Business’ still good at the wet market. Even for the blind. Mother still gets three hundred for a blind whore. A blind whore! This new drug, “Mice,” really fucks you up. Sells like hotcakes. Supplies snatched up before you can even blink.
4
Father can’t get enough. His hunger is insatiable. Even when everyone at Troma Hospital’s had their fill, from fine patients to sickly doctors, he still can’t get enough. He’s shivering in the shadows of the alley. Like a cat starving for a week. Like an addict in a basement. Waiting. For fish going flip-flop on dry land. For a wayward hit. Drizzling.
*
Brother’s plate is licked clean. You’d also clean yours if you were beaten up as a child for not finishing everything until your backside was sore. Then you’d have nightmares at night: hunted by leftover rice that would catch up and stick all over you, then turn to rice paste, you turning to rice paste, until it’s impossible to even move, much less escape, until it dissolves, but it wouldn’t matter because you’re part of it and you’re not sure if you had dissolved yourself.
*
Baby’s gone AWOL again. The whole family’s looking for him. Where’s their beloved baby? Finally, they find him at the cockpit. The gamblers had mistaken him for Christ. Oh Baby, what have you gotten into now? Too bad though, he had bet on the loser cock that offed the winning Texas breed.
*
Mother is wailing in front of her soil stew. She forgot it’s forbidden to cry at the dining table. Father stood up and stomped out of the house. Mother’s wailing became louder. Sister and Brother followed. So did Baby. When she was left alone, Mother abruptly stopped crying and gorged on her favorite dish.
*
“You’re really delicious!” moaned the greasy stink-turned-shit-turned-man pumping on top of Sister. “You’re the best!” Sister wasn’t enjoying herself at all. She wasn’t high on uppers like Phoenix. She wasn’t crashing on downers like Germs. She wasn’t getting wet on her OST aphrodisiac. Wasn’t horny. Wasn’t happy. But she’s here. Not there. And all the doors and windows have been sealed up.
5
Brother couldn’t erase from his mind the final look of Ester. The one with with pieces of brain oozing out. It wasn’t even decent image of Ester’s, before the tragedy. He’s gone, so why’s he still here? Ester is Father. Ester is Mother. Ester is Sisters. Ester is Baby. Brother gagged and rushed to the toilet. Even in the mirror, Ester is Brother. But Ester’s dead and Brother’s still alive, right? Right?
*
Father is one lucky bastard tonight. Guess who’s coming closer? The president himself. Why is the president walking under the rain in the dead of night? It’s forbidden to ask things that aren’t important. Action speaks louder than words. And Father started to do what he had to do. Even if it was late at night and it meant risking pneumonia.
*
It’s Sister’s turn to lead the prayer. “Bless (I can’t take it anymore!) us (Please have mercy!) O (You motherfucking cunts!) Lord (Aaaah!), and (Shit!) these (Fuck!) thy (My God!) gifts (Help!), which (Let me out!) we (Haven’t you had enought?) are (Fuck you!) about (Don’t you have any soul?) to (Don’t you have any sisters?) receive (Don’t you have a mother?) from (Help!) thy (Jesus Christ!) bounty (Beasts!), through (Just kill me!) Christ (I’ll kill you all!), our (Lunatics!) Lord (Assholes, all of you!), Amen (Fuck you!).” And Sister had no more appetite left at all.
*
Mother is opening a new branch today. The ninth Love Heaven at New Metropolis. Complete with every new gadget for one’s pleasure and satisfaction. The winners of the Miss Love Heaven contest have just arrived. Smelling sweet and fresh. Cutting the ribbon at the opening ceremony is Domina, former Miss Love Heaven International.
*
It’s Baby’s birthday. They won’t be having soil. Not barbecued soil, not carbonara soil, not soil stew. There’s no trace of soil on the table. Baby’s surely estatic. If only he was there. But Babywas there. Get it? Hahaha! Served up on a silver platter. Hahaha! Whathefuck… You got me there.
“The Family That Eats Soil” is part of Khavn’s short story collection Ultraviolins published by UP Press. It has won the Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature in the Short Story category and the film adaptation of the same title had its world premiere in Rotterdam International Film Festival 2005. This version, translated by Singapore-based poet Mayo Uno Martin, was also published in Philippine Speculative Fiction Vol. 1, 2005.

The Family That Eats Soil

Ang pamilyang kumakain ng lupa

Not free of violence and sex. And nor is it free of madness, because where else would you find a family that sits down to a meal of soil three times a day? No, not even in the Philippines. But that's what it all comes down to.

is a very outspoken experimental film maker with a prolific rate of production and an uninhibited lust to investigate and cross all frontiers. This film also displays clear traces of furious improvisations and a nonchalant provocative manner. In Filipino society, the family is holy, like the earth, because the society is basically still agrarian. In the bizarre and surrealistic world of The Family That Eats Soil, a strange and dysfunctional family sits down three times a day to a meal of soil. Outside the meal times, the individual family members experience extravagant adventures. A summary of several characters is telling: Baby escapes from his crib to a cockfighting arena, Sister is a nymphomaniac prostitute, Brother beats someone's skull in, Father has mixed up a potion of poison that he wants to give children in hospital, Mother is a clever drug dealer and media personality and Grandpa is really already dead.This absurdist demonstration of insanity and spluttering violence is clearly related to the tradition of underground, splatter, gore and cult, but there is more to it for the director. For instance, he's interested in tackling the issue of ubiquitous violence in the history of the Philippines that in fact continues into the present day. In this film, all traditional values are turned upside down and sent in the wrong direction. And with verve. (GjZ) - www.filmfestivalrotterdam.com/professionals/films/ang-pamilyang-kumakain-ng-lupa/


Family Meals, Family Values, and Philippine Cinema: An Interview with Independent Filmmaker Khavn De la CruzAlexis Tioseco

Khavn De la Cruz (hereinafter called Khavn, his preferred moniker) is the most active filmmaker in the Philippines.
When introducing a filmmaker whose works are as polarising as Khavn it is best to start with a statement only a fool would deny.
Working primarily in the digital medium, Khavn, aged in his early thirties, boasts an impressive filmography of over 30 works – a heady mix of features and short films that cross a number of genres, styles, and tastes. An award-winning filmmaker, poet, songwriter and musician, the multi-talented Khavn has been known to handle just about every aspect on certain earlier works, inserting pseudonyms in the credits in place of repeating his name too many times.

Through my work as a critic and screening curator for the website Indiefilipino.com, I have borne witness to the dividing nature of Khavn’s films up close. Last October 2003, Indiefilipino.com held two screenings of Khavn’s films Memory Before Dawn (Alaala Ng Madaling Araw) (1996) and Headless (Pugot) (2002) at the underground make-shift theatres, Brash Young Cinema and Los Otros. Memory Before Dawn is a video diary featuring live-recorded voiceover by the filmmaker and on-the-spot, on-the-cam editing (using the pause function). The digital feature Headless is an improvised collaboration with likely the best filmmaker in Philippine cinema today, Lav Diaz, and young theatre actress Banaue Miclat. Both films drew equally strong, conflicting responses from audiences – some found beauty and poetry in the experience of watching the personal experiment Memory Before Dawn, whereas others thought it a mundane and pointless exercise. Headless, which cuts back and forth between extended sequences of a long-haired man walking the streets of Manila with a bloodied crotch (Diaz), and first-person point of view flashbacks of the slow demise of his relationship with his girlfriend (Miclat), turned off many viewers. Defenders of the work, myself included, found sublime undertones in it – from reflections on the destructive agitator mentality artists can carry into their personal lives, to their need to have society as an audience for their feelings, emotions, and in this case especially, pain. These are observations that Khavn, who often informs his work with intuition and instinct more than science, likely may not have thought of upon making his film.
It is this way of working that is both Khavn’s greatest strength and greatest weakness – the infinite creative juices he possesses ensure interesting and dynamic work, such that he has found a home with international audiences at festivals, but it also means that in a country such as the Philippines, whose cinematic sensibilities are still in their adolescent stage, his films are deemed esoteric and difficult, and his audience, thus, is limited.
With the international premiere of his Hubert Bals Fund-granted film The Family That Eats Soil (Ang Pamilyang Kumakain ng Lupa) at the Rotterdam International Film Festival looming in the month ahead, I spoke to Khavn about just these things – his aesthetic, finding audiences at home, and the curious delicacy at the centre of his latest work.
– Alexis Tioseco

* * *

Alexis Tioseco: Your films have travelled to various festivals and you are becoming fairly established internationally, but at home in the Philippines, your audience remains limited. Why do you believe that is, and has the knowledge of audience affected your work?
Khavn: My audience in the Philippines is limited simply because I don’t have the money and/or clout for a billboard, to open in major cinemas nationwide, for advertising in the dailies, to show my trailers on TV, etcetera.
I can have all these but I won’t own a single percent of my film, and more importantly, I will have to make a film that betrays myself and my work. So I opt for a limited local audience and just send my films to festivals, with the hope that it gets easier financially along the way, in the process, creating a filmography of a cinema I can really call my own. I make films that will fit my lack of budget, which the work hopefully compensates for with authenticity and creativity.
But really now, which filmmaker in the Philippines can claim that he has a vast audience locally? After [Lino] Brocka, moviegoers really don’t care if it’s directed by whomever. There’s no Pinoy (1) filmmaker which has a strong enough commercial identity that Filipinos flock to his film when they see his name in the marquee. Philippine Cinema is still star/actor-driven, and half of the time, that even fails.
The hierarchy in Philippine theatres starts with the Hollywood mafia; then the local major studios. Next are the minor studios posing as independents, which have moolah, slightly more or less than the major. Lastly, you have the indies; which have ultra-limited budgets or even none at all – just enough to finish production. So when you ask why my audience is limited, my answer to that is: lack of funds.
AT: Do you think gaining an audience locally is just a matter of publicity?
Khavn: According to the school of “publicity is king”, it is. You feed them whatever – shit, soil – again and again, and soon they’ll like it. Not too different from Pavlov’s puppy. It’s just like what the biggies here have been doing in terms of cinema, music, etc.; feeding us crap, dumbing, numbing the masses to the point of paralysis.
On the other hand, my films are not your usual mainstream fare; they are relatively “difficult”, requiring a more active viewing. It might take a longer time versus a film like Kung Fu Hustle, (which I enjoyed very much, by the way). Although one doesn’t really know. It hasn’t been tried, tested.
Basically, I make films with myself as the primary audience. In the past, I tried adjusting my films for the imaginary Filipino masses, but in the end, what came out, was still something “un-commercial”. So I just gave up. No more attempt of “dumbing down” my work. Fortunately, even if I try to sanitise or compromise my work, what emerges is still something I can call my own. Maybe my film ego, film personality, is just too big.
AT: Do you want your work to be understood by mass audiences?
Khavn: Of course, you want to be understood, even if one’s message is misunderstanding. But we all have different experiences. We’ve read different books, watched different films, listened to different music, lived different lives. Though deep inside, we’re supposed to be one and the same. But we have different metaphors, symbols, dreams. You just hope that in the end, you connect with the viewer in some way, even if what they get is totally different from your intentions, sometimes even the opposite.
I plan to make films in the future that are genre-based, commercially-oriented. But let’s see what comes out. Good luck to us.
I thought one of my last films Hero/Antihero (a satire on Philippine Action Movies and its king/s) was my most commercial/accessible work. But when I showed it to a journalist friend, he thought that it was the most out-of-this-world film I’d created.
So when I made The Family That Eats Soil, I just threw all illusions/aspirations/pretensions of making a viable commercial film out the window. I just made the film that I wanted to make. Period.
AT: Much of your body of work is very experimental, very extreme. Realistically, given your aesthetic, do you think working in the mainstream is an option or possibility in the future?
Khavn: Why not? Experimental, extremist cinema exists in other countries. Why not here in the experimental and extremist republic called the Philippines? That would be the day.
AT: Why do you think audiences aren’t as open to more experimental work here as they are in certain other countries?

Khavn: One reason is the issue of censorship through the MTRCB, which was created by Dictator Marcos himself. Some filmmakers specifically make films for them, by following their rules – you can show one breast but not two nipples, etc. Now, one of the major cinemas, SM (2), has self-censored itself by refusing, not only X-rated films, but also R-rated films, even if the distance between the two letters is quite far. This is rumoured to be due to the owner’s being a Born-again Christian. Long live religion! Viva cristianismo! (3)
Also, there is the notion that the majority of the Filipinos, being too tired from working or looking for work, don’t want to think. They just want their simple/clear emotions to be triggered. They want to laugh, cry, be scared, but not at the same time, not in one sitting, which is what I try to do. In other words, Filipinos patronise escapist cinema, which is the reason why Hollywood is big here. The top-grossing Filipino film for 2004 is a fantasy-comedy for kids; which is no sin, but simply an unfortunate reality permeating the globe.
It’s a chicken or the egg thing. Filipinos initially want escapist cinema. The producers who are after a sure profit produce only this kind of cinema. Risk is out of the question.
This is not to say that the Philippine audience has no hope. Thanks to piracy, local movie-lovers have more options, thus broadening their taste. Some even say that video piracy is creating a cultural revolution in film-viewing in the Philippines.
AT: Aside from film, you have been recognised for your work in a number of fields as a fictionist, poet, songwriter, and musician. Do you consider yourself a filmmaker above all these? Which among them are you most passionate about?
Khavn: I consider myself a creative artist who makes films, creates music, and writes literature. I am passionate about art and life, and they feed off each other. I could offer film as a trick answer, since it contains the other arts as well.
AT: Philippine Cinema, though now a century old, is still growing, maturing, and forming its identity. Do you feel you have a social responsibility as a filmmaker? And if so, what do you believe that responsibility to be?
Khavn: I disagree that Philippine Cinema is still forming its identity. It is more appropriate to say that it has “lost” its identity, or disregarded it. We’ve made a lot of films since the beginning of cinema. Unfortunately, archiving has not been a priority. So a lot of films have been lost, destroyed, made into trumpet whistle toys; literally disintegrated because of neglect and lack of proper storage. Secondly, even if some films have been saved from oblivion, distribution and exhibition is another obstacle. ABS–CBN, which owns the best archiving facilities in the Philippines, would rather promote their self-produced cheesy flicks than the best of Philippine cinema history.
I believe that I am being socially responsible by simply being myself, expressing myself to the core, being honest, truthful in what I do, be it film, music, or literature.
The Philippines is a naturally rich country in terms of history, character, location, stories, etc. I believe that simply documenting its sleeping and waking lives is the task and responsibility of the Filipino artist.
AT: Given the crass commercialism rampant in the local film industry, do you feel the need to veer your aesthetic even farther from the norm as a reaction action against that?
Khavn: I was born and raised to be a rebel with or without a cause. I don’t make films to displease the local film industry. The local film industry is the last thing on my mind while I’m creating. My aesthetic is a product of everything that I’ve taken in and kept out. Part of this is the crappy local movies that have inspired me and kept me going. Try it, watch a really lousy movie. Afterwards, you’ll walk out saying: if that’s what they call, or what can pass off as, a movie, I can easily, definitely, do much better than that.
The idea of doing something that veers so far from the norm is not a conscious choice, but is more of an afterthought, a realisation, rather than something I ponder on during writing, production, or post. I don’t feel the need (to react against the current norm) per se. I just write what I want to write, shoot what I want to shoot.
Sometimes though, you do little things just to fuck the prevailing system, just to piss off the powers-that-be.
AT: Speaking of messing around with the system, how was the idea for your new film, The Family That Eats Soil born?
Khavn: Circa 1997, I wrote a short story simply called “The Family”. I actually integrated it into the final screenplay of “Soil”, since it has complementary characterisations. I don’t remember where or when the idea of them specifically eating soil came. But if you’re going to force me, I could answer: from this local noontime show where this poor guy ate soil as a remarkable feat, something like Ripley’s “Believe It Or Not” for the jilted generation of the fourth world.
AT: You received a Hubert Bals Fund Grant to write the script for the film. You didn’t submit the script, but instead, the finished film. Tell me about the process of making this film.
Khavn: Short answer: It’s easier to shoot than to write.
For the script, I combined my two short stories “The Family” (written originally in English) and “The Family That Eats Soil” (written originally in Filipino), added some scenes, details. We shot in our house, using our dining table which seats six. Originally, I only had five family members; I added the zombie grandfather so there wouldn’t be an empty seat. Although thinking about it now an empty seat would have worked as well.
It was basically shot in three consecutive days in October 2004. But I added some scenes I recorded in June 2004 and a few shots from an earlier attempt two days before the official October grind. The attempt was aborted because of miscasting.
AT: Who was miscast?
Khavn: The initial actor who was supposed to play the father was a non-actor, a respected Indian Guru who refused to have soy sauce come out of his ear (something the part required) because of what it supposedly connotes. The mother backed out at the last minute because she found the material too dark, and she wanted light, healing, and other bullshit. She didn’t want to add to the unbearable weight or baggage of living in Manila.
The replacements did a good job, however. The universe cooperated. Which is good.
Two girls from the production design team were hardcore feminists and animal rights activists. They weren’t too hot about the sex scenes and the death of an angelfish.
I had an excellent posse of technicians from editing, musical scoring and sound design, to animation, 2D and clay.
AT: The Family That Eats Soil paints a dystopian view of the modern Filipino family. The repetitive chorus of the film that breaks up the separate stories of the individual family members is the image of a family meal, eating soil. I have my own opinion, but I want to know what the significance of this act is for you.
Khavn: I could give you a variety of answers, and none would necessarily mean more than the other.
AT: Try me.
Khavn: Okay –
A. Nothing.
B. Poverty. Having nothing to eat but soil means you’re so poor, you’d eat anything.
C. Worse than mere poverty is Internal Poverty, the feeling or mentality that one is poor. One can be physically rich, money in the bank, etcetera, but deep inside, he still believes he’s poor, that his pocket money is not enough. He is so afraid of poverty. This is because of a paranoia brought about by a poverty trauma, probably during childhood. That’s why the film is not set in the slums. It’s set in an upper–middle class house in Manila.

So what is the significance of a family eating soil for you?
AT: To me, it represented just that – the subversion of archetype Filipino family values. Eating meals together as a family is something that is highly valued in Filipino culture, but in my experiences, it’s often more symbolic than it is actually constructive. So the act of eating soil in the film I felt was satire, saying that what this ritual is feeding us isn’t healthy.
Khavn: There is that Christian slogan “The family that eats together stays together”, which reinforces the Filipino tradition of having a family, a closely-knit one at that.
One of the themes prevalent in my works is the cliche “Don’t judge a book by its cover”, or “What you see is not necessarily what you get.”
A seemingly happy, perfect family on the outside can be hyper-dysfunctional on the inside. Eating is a fairly internal affair, something that happens inside the house. Maybe, it’s just my basic mistrust of the myth or illusion of a perfectly functional family; that it doesn’t exist. Except in the minds of the priests who don’t have one, yet impose it on their constituents.
The Filipino family is like the Philippine archipelago; broken up into many pieces. Yet it still has the nerve to call itself a unit. They should just change “family” and “country” into “a bunch of disparate entities”.
“Shattered” is a word that comes into mind. “Broken” is too mild. Although “crushed” is a more apt term with regards to soil. The family eats soil day in, day out, same old thing for the rest of their lives. Stasis. The need for change. Sometimes, something or someone must die in order for rebirth to occur.
Don’t believe a single word that I’ve said. I’m just blabbering. Trying to pull your artificial leg.

Endnotes

1. Shorthand term for Filipino.
2. Shoe Mart, a chain of malls owning by far the largest number of Cinemas in the Philippines.
3. As I have been told, the decision to not show R-18 films was economical. They were losing money at the box office and that was why they were pulled from SM theaters. It is illegal to exhibit X-rated films in commercial cinemas, and may only be shown in censorship exempt theaters such as the NCCA (National Center for Culture and Arts), CCP (Cultural Center of the Philippines), and the University of the Philippines Film Center.

- sensesofcinema.com/2005/filipino-cinema/khavn_de_la_cruz/


Khavn De La Cruz is a very outspoken, experimental film maker with an unstoppable desire to explore and cross boundaries. He has made twenty-three features and more than seventy short films, most of which have received prizes, given retrospectives, and presented in international film festivals. He has served as a jury member in the Clermont-Ferrand (France), Copenhagen (Denmark), Jeonju (Korea), Jihlava (Czech Republic), & Berlinale (Germany) film festivals. He is the president of the independent film company Filmless Films and the festival director of .MOV, the first digital film festival in the Philippines.
Besides of being film maker, Khavn also writes poetry and fiction and composes music. His books of poetry and fiction are published by the University of Santo Tomas Publishing and the University of the Philippines Press, among them is Ultraviolins, the first postmodern book of stories in Filipino. Khavn is an acclaimed composer, songwriter, singer & pianist who has performed all over the world and has made several albums, including soundtracks for internationally-renowned films. He has written & composed several rock operas staged at the Cultural Center of the Philippines and the Tanghalang Ateneo. He is the bandleader of The Brockas and has also been part of the jury of the Awit Awards.
Khavn owned and managed Oracafe, a cultural hub for Philippine writers, musicians, filmmakers, and other artists in the late 90s. - dafilms.com/director/8317-khavn-de-la-cruz/

THE FAMILY THAT EATS SOIL (2005) 

Maynila, Setyembre (a very tattered postcard from the other side of the ball)
Ekran, Slovenia  October-November 2006



A deliberately destroyed object precludes an easy categorization of what’s left of it—the ruin, being a newfound thing in itself, is recovered not necessarily as an unprecedented occurrence but an inevitable and indispensible junction between various contradictions.
This thickness creates an exciting negotiation between the familiar and otherwise.
Khavn de la Cruz’s contrabandido positioning in Philippine literature and cinema is not a pose, but rather a willingness to surrender to an insatiable wanderlust, without navigation aids.
The process of unlearning being necessary to the understanding of the risks he took and will take in the future, is something this writer, filmmaker and musician has internalized in the creation of his most trailblazing works. For, how else can you “kill” something but by intimately knowing it, and eventually letting go?
The poems found in his collection “Guhit ng Talampakan” (Lines on the Sole), published by the UST Publishing House in 2008, are conventional by Khavn’s standards. But like the modern chronicler that he is, there couldn’t possibly be anything like his poems.

The quotidian presence of his observations and the unapologetic directness of his narratives remind me though of William Stafford. But since the eye (and, consequently “I”) of the poet ruminates on a very specific reality that is unique to the postcolonial man, the similarity would remain tangential.

Almost without wit, and the burden of philosophical questioning, the poems here constellate into a deepening of community, paradoxically idiomatic (in the form of an elusive dream, or resolution) to the constant displacement of the poet as traveler. As in Stafford’s, the purification of the tribe’s language for Khavn is to “leave it be,” without qualifying statements or necessary closures, not because they are not needed but ultimately because being silent, or traveling on, is enough.
Many times, the persona in his poems “walks away,” bringing with him the faith in every vicarious experience he encounters, and leaving it to the reader to manage the rubble, the interstices between what’s said and left open—not withdrawn, because a lot of times there’s nothing more to say.
Edgy
His book of stories, “Ultraviolins,” published by UP Press in 2008, is not necessarily an antithesis to “Guhit,” even though there is a noticeable difference between the roaming, almost dreamy Socratic persona of the poetry collection and the cynical, irreverent positioning of most of the characters in “Ultraviolins” (who really are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, alternately bringing news of “the end”).
Every story was crafted with “gut-to-gutter” edginess; the language is uncompromising, the concepts illogical. That is why it is easy to dismiss the book as mere exuberance. But reading through it, one recognizes new and fresh ways of rumination outside of the haughty pedestal of continental philosophy. There is nothing here of the kind of insouciance and indulgence found in the works of young writers who oftentimes mistake mere trash talk for freedom of speech.
Khavn’s new book of poems, “Shockbox,” is due for release by the University of the Philippines Press this year. Expect an interesting mixture of his unadulterated critique of our often sanctimonious relationship with reality and the meditative, surprisingly profound stance of his early works.
From the solipsistic meanderings of a classic lyric speaker to strange, multi-layered allegories and aphorisms on and about urban decay, the poems in this new collection almost sound like unheard songs from the tattered notebook of a traveling folk musician lost in the city, surely a troubadour with something relevant and important to say.
This anthology can be anything from Malvina Reynolds’ “Little Boxes” to Althusser’s critique of ideology. Readers and critics alike can choose what to do with it, but one thing’s for sure—it can never be ignored.- Allan Pastrana

INTERVIEWS
A Conversation With Khavn De La Cruz by Yusef Sayed, Film International
March 1, 2012
Take A ‘Breather’ With Khavn De La Cruz by Richard Bolisay, Lagarista
September 5, 2011
This Is Not Mondomanila by Ping Medina, The Philippine Star
December 4, 2010
Street Food Cinema: Khavn De La Cruz by Pamela Cohn, Bomb
September 29, 2010
Interview With Khavn De La Cruz by Marc L’Helgoualc’h, Tomblands
September 7, 2010
Welcome To Mondomanila: o kung paano ginawa ni Khavn De La Cruz ang pelikula… The Swank Style
November 20, 2009
Reyalismo sa Pixel: Ang Digital na Krusada ni Khavn De la Cruz by Kenneth Roland A. Guda
September 2, 2005
Family Meals, Family Values, and Philippine Cinema: An Interview with Independent Filmmaker Khavn De la Cruz by Alexis Tioseco, Senses Of Cinema
February 8, 2005
FEATURES
US Firm Picks Up Filipino Indie Film For Distribution by Bayani San Diego Jr., Philippine Daily Inquirer
June 10, 2012
After The Deluge, The Movie by Bayani San Diego Jr., Philippine Daily Inquirer
March 28, 2012
Ruined Hearts And Zombie Storm Operas: Khavn In 2012 by Dodo Dayao, Lagarista
February 2, 2012
Wide Angle – Khavn De La Cruz by Yusef Sayed, Little White Lies
February 1, 2012
Khavn De La Cruz And How ‘Wazak’ Works Carmela G. Lapena, GMA News
January 29, 2012
4 Pinoy Indies Now In Berlinale Bayani San Diego Jr., Philippine Daily Inquirer
January 20, 2012
Master And Commander Ben Walters, Daily Tiger
January-February 2011
Welcome To Khavn’s World Bryan B. Garcia, Manila Bulletin
January 9, 2011
Khavn De La Cruz’s Mondomanila Gelo Gonzales, FHM
December 1, 2012
This Is Not About Khavn De La Cruz Igan D’Bayan, The Philippine Star
February 5, 2010
This Movie Will Destroy You Karl de Mesa, Playboy
January-February 2010
Like Mashing Up All His Old Movies In A Blender Bayani San Diego Jr., Philippine Daily Inquirer
December 26, 2009
Forget Africa Gertjan Zuilhof, International Film Festival Rotterdam
June 2009
No-budget Film Adventures With Khavn Andrew Leavold, The Search For Weng-Weng
November 18, 2007
Rugby Boyz Is Best Documentary In Rio De Janeiro Film Fest Jocelyn Dimaculangan, PEP.ph
January 10, 2007
Khavn De La Cruz: Confessions Of A Rock ‘N’ Roll Filmmaker by Ricky Torre, GMA News
August 2, 2006
Filmmaker Khavn De La Cruz Wins In International Short Film Fest GMA News
May 22, 2006
SouthEast Asian Eyes Gertjan Zuilhof, Skrien
July 2004
REVIEWS
Mondomanila Dodo Dayao, Piling-Piling Pelikula
May 22, 2012
Breather Closely Watched Frames
September 14, 2011
Breather Sinepatrol
September 6, 2011
Kommander Kulas Oggs Cruz, Twitch
April 7, 2011
Son Of God Oggs Cruz, Lessons From The School Of Inattention
January 1, 2011
Mondomanila Death Of Traditional Cinema
December 8, 2010
Mondomanila The Persistence Of Vision
December 6, 2010
Cameroon Love Letter Oggs Cruz, Twitch
September 6, 2010
Goodbye My Shooting Star The Persistence Of Vision
November 17, 2009
Ultimo Oggs Cruz, Lessons From The School Of Inattention
September 30, 2008
Goodbye My Shooting Star Dodo Dayao, Piling-Piling Pelikula
July 26, 2008
Overdosed Nightmare Chard Bolisay, Likok Pelikula
July 24, 2008
Three Days Of DarknessOggs Cruz, Lessons From The School Of Inattention
December 9, 2007
Three Days Of Darkness Dodo Dayao, Piling-Piling Pelikula
December 8, 2007
Squatterpunk Oggs Cruz, Lessons From The School Of Inattention
July 30, 2007