Sonya is alone. Her father lives with her, but refuses to speak to her. Their landlord stops by whenever he wishes, threatening eviction if they do not pay off their mounting debt(s). The family-owned funeral parlor she runs gets too little business and much of her time is spent either cooking food that she does not eat or staring out of the window. This is the Philippines, one of the most densely populated countries in the world, cramming in 392 people per square kilometer; and yet, snug in the midst of its urban sprawl, Sonya’s world is quiet and empty, and she is alone.

Writer-director Dwein Ruedas Baltazar’s third feature film Ode to Nothing (Oda sa Wala) is not in black and white, but it might as well be, for all its muted colors, its drab greys, casting an almost necrotic light over these many degraded surfaces, which is appropriate considering that Sonya’s living is extracted from the dead. Baltazar’s chosen aspect ratio is 4:3, mimicking the style of early cinema; but more than flaunting its “artiness,” this choice just further hems in Sonya’s world, non-diegetically trapping her in its narrowed, coffin-like confines. We see her often in frames that double this shape: windows, doorways, gates. Often barred, grilled and/or shut.