Thirty five years after the movie was made

Kung Mangarap Ka’t Magising (Moments in a Stolen Dream). 1977. Philippines. Directed by Mike De Leon. Screenplay by De Leon, Rey Santayana. With Christopher de Leon, Hilda Koronel, Laurice Guillen. DCP. Courtesy ABS-CBN Sagip Pelikula. In Filipino; English subtitles. 112 min. Photo: MOMA/Cesar Hernando

Revisiting Mike De Leon’s best-known love story on film has taken me back to my own university days at UP and vacation trips to Baguio City. Guilt over nitpicking aside, reviewing this film without echoing Rolando Tinio’s already incisive critique seems challenging, yet I aim to offer a perspective Tinio might have overlooked. While his theoretical insights remain valid, particularly as his criticism was penned shortly after the film’s release, my take is informed by the passage of time and personal nostalgia.

For college students past and present, Baguio City remains an ideal escape—cheap, accessible, and distant enough from Manila to feel like a genuine getaway. I first watched Kung Mangarap Ka’t Magising (1977) as a freshman at the UP Film Center, alongside films like Moral (1982), Mangarap Ka (1995), and Dekada ’70 (2002), all featuring UP student characters. These screenings aimed to present how the university has been perceived through cinema. Kung Mangarap Ka’t Magising quickly became a favourite among state-university types, appreciated for its humour, cinematic charm, and early MTV-like appeal.

Tinio’s assumption that Joey (Christopher de Leon) and Anna (Hilda Koronel) were upper-middle-class seems misplaced, as the film itself does not explicitly suggest this. Regardless of class technicalities, the film’s detailed authenticity makes it easily relatable. It’s notable that films set in UP predominantly focus on love stories, inevitably affecting viewers by resonating with recognizable experiences. Christopher de Leon, probably around my father’s age, embodies a familiar college archetype marked by youthful confusion and romantic entanglements within a specific social class.

Film critic Noel Vera described Kung Mangarap Ka’t Magising as more character-driven compared to De Leon’s earlier film, Itim. However, his assertion that Anna is an older woman is misleading. Anna is actually a younger woman prematurely burdened with adult responsibilities due to an early marriage. Vera’s comparison between Itim and Kung Mangarap remains puzzling to me.

As a character-driven narrative, Kung Mangarap adeptly captures the lingering thoughts and preoccupations of college life—idleness, familial expectations, and romantic misadventures. Joey’s unconventional romance with a married woman feels familiar, reflecting perhaps similar stories from friends or friends-of-friends in my own circles. Although I never wrote songs or strummed guitars like Joey, I remember writing poetry about similar situations, later discarded as overly sentimental or impractical.

Often life imitates cinema, reflecting our fictions. Joey’s college journey, full of comedic moments, drama, and confusion, mirrors typical university experiences, highlighting the inevitability of falling for the wrong person.

While some reviews criticize the film as portraying an overly sweet romance, I see more nuanced layers. Mike De Leon’s depiction, through a nostalgic, rose-tinted lens, subtly critiques the bourgeois milieu. Joey, a prolonged college student, falls for an unattainable woman and eventually drops out—Tinio rightly labels him a “bum.” The film realistically captures a young man’s college concerns, from overdue term papers to humorous semester-based calculations of time.

Anna, though not older, embodies the archetypal distant woman, reminiscent of films like Summer of ’42. Her seemingly perfect facade slowly crumbles through flashbacks revealing her repressive marriage. Both Joey and Anna seek escape, only to confront the reality of their choices.

The simplified New York Times synopsis—a young man’s romance leading to maturity—reflects a cinematic cliché that equates coming-of-age with romantic heartbreak. The subplot involving Joey’s deceased girlfriend adds unnecessary melodrama, diluting the genuine emotional confusion and sadness common to young adults.

Despite its occasional clichés, Kung Mangarap’s timelessness lies in its authentic portrayal of youthful dreams and escapism. Its dialogue and charming 1970s slang (“dyahe,” “hassle”) evoke nostalgia, while Mike De Leon’s dreamy visuals and misty scenes highlight the beauty of pre-1991 Baguio. Yet De Leon intriguingly avoids overt sensuality, a choice both puzzling and notable.

Baguio City itself emerges as a vital character, its tranquil charm enhancing the film’s themes of escape and fleeting romance. The final scenes, set against rain-soaked backdrops and silent goodbyes, subtly suggest Joey’s eventual growth and acceptance of his musical passion. Though De Leon himself later criticized the film as overly commercial, audiences continue to cherish it, affirming its enduring impact on Filipino romance cinema.

Joey’s casual resignation—“Di bale na lang”—captures an entire generation’s attitude and possibly mirrors De Leon’s own ambivalence towards filmmaking. Ironically, despite the director’s disavowal, Kung Mangarap Ka’t Magising remains significant precisely because of its straightforward honesty and relatable simplicity, ensuring its place in Philippine cinematic memory.