Moonglow is set in a tumultuous era in Philippines history: the late 1970s under the Marcos dictatorship. Corruption keeps money flowing away from the people in need and towards those who stand to profit from backroom deals and cozying up to crooked politicians. Sandoval plays Dahlia, an undercover cop assigned to track down money that’s gone missing from the police station’s coffers. Her boss, the police chief Bernal (Dennis Marasigan), then enlists his nephew Charlie (Arjo Atayde) to join her investigation. Charlie and Dahlia were lovers some 12 years ago, and as their memories flit between the past and the present, old passions are reawakened, just as the mystery surrounding the money further complicates their reunion.
Sandoval’s latest film is soaked in the influences of Wong Kar-Wai and Rainer Werner Fassbinder, where longing gazes seem to last a lifetime, when in reality, it’s only mere seconds. Theirs is a colorful world of hyperreality, heavily awash in the glow of atmospheric lighting. Though the genres around it are different, this is the same kind of moody connection Sandoval found in her previous film Lingua Franca. Set in Brighton Beach in South Brooklyn during the first Trump administration, the film sees Sandoval play an undocumented immigrant caregiver who finds herself attracted to the son of one of the women she cares for—though she fears the increase in deportations closing in around her. Lingua Franca, like Sandoval’s two earlier films, is filmed in a much more social realist way, mirroring the cloudy uncertainty that hangs over her lead character. In Moonglow, Sandoval goes for a much more expressionistic approach, leaning into the night’s neo-noir neon, light that streams in through windows and vents, and dramatic underlighting, where certain scenes enhance Dahlia’s loneliness.
Moonglow also marks Sandoval’s return to the Philippines after her work’s trip to Brooklyn. Her feature debut Señorita and follow-up Apparition both take on Filipino politics in different ways. In Señorita, Sandoval plays a former sex worker trying to make a change, working for a politician who’s attacked by his opponent for his good nature, pointing out how impossible it can feel to reform a corrupt system. Apparition, like Moonglow, is a period piece, this time set just before the Marcos regime enacted martial law. Already, the violence that would come to mark the administration was affecting families, whose loved ones would simply disappear. The nuns in Apparition attempt to solve the case of a missing relative, trying to do good in a world where the government and its politicians have turned on the people.
There are clear through-lines throughout Sandoval’s movies between Señorita to Moonglow, including her penchant for writing, directing, producing, editing, and starring in her films. While her many hats remain, her style has evolved, moving from mostly using static wide shots for Señorita to the languid close-ups between Dahlia and Charlie in Moonglow. As they get closer, so does the camera, falling back into their romantic pasts with them. From the clandestine meetings in public in both Señorita and Moonglow to the will-they/won’t-they tension in her two latest films, Sandoval injects inspiration from her home, her experiences, and the movies that inspired her to pick up a camera into her intimate films. While it’s not necessary to see her previous work before seeing Moonglow, her latest is both in conversation with the movies that put her on the indie-film map and a noticeable departure from her earlier style. Yet, Moonglow provides a representative sense of Sandoval’s films—films that contribute to Filipino cinema, expand the visibility of trans filmmakers and stars, and immerse her audiences in uncertain scenarios where her characters may fall back in love, escape their circumstances, or realize that all this has just been a memory.