And that’s precisely what makes it engrossing. Biring is not a character on the screen; she is someone’s grandmother, mother, amiga, neighbor, and customer. And the things she does and says are mostly things we’ve already seen and heard.

That’s why we didn’t think she looked weird looking the way she did inside that bus. Her act was something our lolas did. And when she updated her social media profile photo with a filtered image, we laughed not mainly because it was ridiculous. We found it funny because it’s how our parents, lolo and lola, and even aunts and uncles do it.

What’s interesting here is that the dialogues weren’t written to be funny. And yet, the impact is amusing. It’s clever and witty. At times, hysterical.

The comedy is sprinkled in the nuances: the subtexts in dialogues, the characters’ micro-expressions, and even the background details. In one scene where Biring and Tessie are inside a computer shop, a sign is plastered directly behind Tessie that says “bawal manood ng bold” (watching porn is prohibited) while she is literally watching someone wank via webcam.

It’s followed by a scene where Biring lights a cigarette (after being thrown out of the computer shop for scolding kid customers) with a discarded box with the words “smoking kills” on the background. The ironies and contrasts helped add layers not just to Biring’s persona but to the others as well, regardless of the amount of lines they have.

Driven mostly by the characters’ choices, the movie takes us on a seemingly predictable ride but one that is delightfully entertaining. No boring moment here—not even for one second.  For that we have to thank the solid performances of the cast. Ruiz is perfect for the role. She was able to depict her character’s sensibilities while portraying a woman with a strong resolve to give meaning to her existence. 

Ruiz was brilliant as Biring. There’s no surprise there. The award-winning Cinemalaya veteran (for her role in 2019’s Iska) is so natural it feels like the character was written specifically for her. She exudes a certain type of charm that makes her endearing to audiences with every line she throws and gesture she makes—a rare quality that only a handful of actors possess. Like Alessandra de Rossi.

Although she didn’t say much throughout the movie and wore a scowl and the look of disapproval on her face, there’s a compelling quality about her. The scenes where she’s not saying anything is, interestingly, when she’s most powerful. 

It’s also in these silent moments where the tension between mother and daughter is loudest. We don’t see them shout and fight; we see them avoid direct interaction and give silent gazes. Without the need for much words, we understand how much resentment is present. It’s things like this that shows how the movie skillfully tackled important issues that often go unaddressed. These dynamics that are commonly Pinoy and fester silently until it becomes infected. 

This is more than a rejection of a dream. Biring’s story is about the slow and continuous rejection people experience from the ones they love and have hurt. The way we reject and ignore the need to deal, which leads to feelings of resentment and unworthiness. But it’s also a story of powering through difficult situations even if it means allowing one’s self to potentially fail another time. 

By the time the story has put Biring in another compromising situation, she and Anna have realized that the most profound types of rejection can only be healed by the one they felt it from.