Mamarazzi

Eugene Domingo has proven to be one of the most consistently entertaining performers working in the industry today. Mamarazzi  is another film that leans on her considerable talents, depending on her to hold together several disparate narrative threads swirling in a maelstrom of variety show randomness. Domingo and the rest of the cast manage to lend the film plenty of charm, but it isn’t quite enough to make a complete picture.

Years ago, Violy (Eugene Domingo) was told that she needed to have her womb removed. Desperate to have children, she spends a night with her gay best friend’s boyfriend Carlo (Diether Ocampo). Carlo disappears on her that night, and she was left pregnant with triplets. She manages to raise them well enough on her own, even though her kids find her intrusive style of parenting a pain. But things get complicated when Carlo suddenly returns, hoping to get Violy to forgive him. As much as Violy wants to be with him, his presence threatens to reveal all of her deepest secrets.

Each of the kids gets their own storyline. Son Dingdong (AJ Perez) has always resented not having a dad, and is in love with his godfather’s niece. Daughter Peachy (Andi Eigenmann) is a genius who rejects any guy who isn’t as smart as her. Other daughter Strawberry (also Andi Eigenmann) is trying and failing to succeed in the world of competitive figure skating. Tie this in with the growing backstories of Violy and Carlo, and a subplot involving Violy’s gay best friend Mandy (John Lapus) and the sudden appearance of his son, and you’ve got a movie that’s too packed with plot for its own good. Individually, each of these little stories has something to offer. But they don’t come together very well.


The movie seems content to just flit between scenes aimlessly, characters disappearing for long stretches before conveniently reappearing to tie things up. There’s a variety show mentality to the whole thing that might be charming or frustrating, depending on what you want to get out of your films. To wit: Mamarazzi takes a big break in the middle to deliver a shaky song and dance routine that wouldn’t feel out of place in the eighties. It isn’t particularly well shot, or well sung, or well danced, but the commitment to kitsch can be almost charming, if you’re in the right frame of mind.

That is to say, Mamarazzi is a pretty hit-or-miss proposition. It just throws as much as it can up on screen, hoping that some of it sticks. Romance, sentiment, and fart gags are all tossed together in a tornado of sped-up film and broad performances. It certainly isn’t cohesive, but the bits that work hit their mark pretty hard. The film undermines some of this by being entirely too obvious, pushing every gag with an inane sound cue, softening every tender moment with light piano. Strong performances from the cast help make it all work a little better. Eugene Domingo is always great, although I’m growing weary of how her appearance ends up being the joke. Andi Eigenmann creates two very distinct personalities in her dual role. This performance definitely confirms her position as a young actress to watch.

Mamarazzi has moments of undeniable charm, wonderful little instance where everything comes together in an absurd little package. And were this a sketch comedy show, it would be pretty easy to recommend the entire thing. But these moments don’t come together as a coherent picture, the story too loose to justify the warm and fuzzy sentiment that the film aims for in the end. Lazy technique takes the film down another peg, and the result a viewing experience that alternates between genuine laughs and painful groans.