Waiting in the Shadows: The Hype Before Himas
Himas had already had become a quiet curiosity even before it reached theatres. It isn’t one of those films that received a big promotional blitz or studios campaigns. Instead, it came quietly: a few posters, a broody trailer, and an online whisper growing in the film groups. The name itself felt strange and almost poetic. For those cinephiles following offbeat cinema in the Philippines and Southeast Asia, it promised something deeper than mere surface-level drama: intimacy and guilt, the simmering tension of human conflict that one feels and does not explode in violence.
There were expectations of bold films that would stretch the limits of emotion and perhaps the limits of morality. The early glimpses offered Himas in the marriage rawness, longing and loyalty under pressure, layered and complicated. The cast were not even mainstream superstars but this actually worked on the film’s favour. Without the celebrities distracting the audience, the story could really breathe.
Yet the absence of sparkle also prompted curiosities: would a film like this find its audience? Would it be too subtle, too sophisticated for the casual streaming audience? With the title, “Himas” — which translates to “touch” or “caress” — leading the audience to a film exploring human connection and the heavy unexpressed burden of touch, the growing anticipation also brought speculation on the film’s themes.
Into the Heart of the Story
When the film commenced, it served as a protracted and unhurried apology. Himas centers on the story of Dana, a woman caught between the demands of love, obligation, and desire. Ed is a former firefighter who was injured in an accident that left him blind. Ed is proud but also quiet desperate, and he depends on Dana more than he would like to concede.
Once affectionate, their marriage has now become a fragile truce which plays out in unmelodic silence. Dana’s unease draws her to and a younger man; and stirs feelings long repressed: curiosity, guilt, and the dangerous, risky temptation of being seen after so long.
The film seeks neither to create a scandal nor to shock. Rather, its calmness is conveyed through unchanging scenes, poorly illuminated settings, and the almost meditative sounds of people breathing. The narrative focuses on silence. The opacity of Dana’s problem resonates with most people: At what point does caring become a cage, and where does love become suffocating?
Then the story flows further as Ed’s internal conflict comes into view. He feels a threat to his masculinity and his pride is injured. Dana is the one caught in the conflict the most, and in emotionally trying to balance between empathy and hate. The younger man’s part is not just to entice her; he fulfills the role of a mirror, forcing her to see everything she lost while being loyal to her.
Himas poses questions instead of trying to supply answers and to complete the narrative. It does not seek to pass judgment. In its most beautiful moments, it feels like two spirits lost in the dark and grappling with the questions of whether they are headed to damnation or redemption.
The passion and emotional charge of Himas derive from the actors’ genuine embrace of the authenticity of their roles.
Felix Roco, who plays Ed, has long been known for portraying complex, conflicted men. His filmography includes a mix of commercial and indie projects, but he has always been drawn to the vulnerability of his characters. Rocco plays a blind ex-firefighter. Rocco captures frustration with rare dignity and his performance never demands pity. It conveys the silent panic of a man who may not only lose his sight, but his very self.
Sahara Bernales, as Dana, delivers one of her most nuanced performances. Her face carries the exhaustion of a woman whose duty is at odds with her own need. In interviews, she has spoken of Dana’s loneliness she connected with, not as a moral failure, but as a human truth. Her performance fearlessly, intimately, and empathetically engages the audience, confronting sorrow to balance the sensuality.
Zsara Laxamana and MJ Abellera, in supporting roles, bring texture to the story. More than mere side characters, they serve as emotional catalysts, mirroring how the bonds of temptation and empathy can originate from the most surprising places.
For the ensemble, Himas signifies a creative risk. This isn’t the sort of movie that promises box-office wins or easy cheers. Rather, it implores the actors to peel the performance away and reveal emotional truth. And that truth can, at times, be achingly visible on screen.
What Worked — And What Didn’t
Himas shows its best moments when it rests in stillness and silence. The cinematography captures atmosphere in the quiet — bedrooms bathed in half-light, long, yawning corridors, hesitation in hands that want to touch. Each frame is a confession, a captured stillness with motion.
The emotional truth of the performances anchors the film. Dana seems to bear the weight of a world in every one of her movements; Ed’s silences are those of traumatic, un-healed grief. Their chemistry is tense, tragic, and tender in a complex, mystifying sort of way.
Unfortunately, Himas is, well, not perfect. Some audience members found its pacing slow, even stifling. Scenes can linger a beat too long and dialogue end in a trailing whisper. The film’s minimalism, although deliberate, can be all-too challenging.
A more common critique is the younger man’s backstory. We are missing clarity in his motivations — are they compassionate, curious, or predatory? The film can feel like it’s circling its own mystery instead of delving into it.
And although the sensuality is key to the narrative, a portion of the audience believed that some scenes were treading the line of discomfort. The attention of the camera is sensitive, but it is not always so, and some moments might be read as indulgent rather than reflective of the subject at hand.
However, despite the flaws, perhaps the greatest success of Himas is that it makes one ponder issues of loneliness, fidelity, and the unacknowledged emotional work that relationships require. The film whispers, and whispers, it seems, carry the greatest echo.
Behind the Curtains — The Unspoken Stories
As is the case with many low-budget local productions, Himas experienced some turmoil. The crew were on a tight schedule, and so, the crew would work for extended periods, sometimes many hours in close quarters. Some of the emotionally difficult scenes were shot late at night with secretive, almost ghostly, crews to help preserve the emotional authenticity. The isolation that the actors portray on screen is, in a sense, what they experienced as well during filming.
Disquiet about some of the more intimate scenes surfaced quietly but nonetheless was present. The director and the performers are said to have spent additional time considering the choreography of scenes involving physical contact to ensure consent and the emotional safety of the actors. Following test screenings, some scenes were softened or reedited, which may account for the film’s subtle restraint in certain areas.
As underscored in the comments, the film has challenges such as constrained budgets. Lighting had to use practical sources such as lamps, candles, and daylight. Ironically, the use of practical sources was a benefit as it increased realism. The sound design was similarly minimal, creating a stark contrast and drawing attention to silence in the dialogue.
Controversy exists with this more forthright approach, as Himas faced criticism for its depiction of infidelity and absence of moral clarity. Other reviewers, however, valued this honesty as a strength. The film’s approach, which embraced and portrayed the complexities of human contradiction, was a welcome shift.
The Touch That Lingers
Himas stays with you. You don’t forget it. Not for the absence of an intricate plot or a grand cinematic spectacle. It stays because of its profound humanity. It poses difficult questions. How far does love stretch before snapping? When does compassion become a burden? And if the one you love stops seeing you, what do you become?
For the cast, it represented an audacious foray into the exploration of emotions that few mainstream projects allow. For the audience, it provided a rare opportunity – a story that invited them to feel rather than merely watch. For the region’s indie film sector, Himas serves as a benchmark as, far too often, the smallest films are the ones that hold the heaviest truths.
Himas isn’t a film you watch to escape reality. It’s a film you watch to find recognition, one that burns quietly within you long after the screening has ended.
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