If you’re scouring Netflix for something that isn’t just another cookie-cutter romance, you've probably stumbled upon The Burning Season movie. It stars Jane Oineza and Enchong Dee. On the surface, it looks like your standard "exes reunite" trope. But honestly? It’s much moodier than that. It’s got this heavy, atmospheric vibe that feels more like a slow-burn indie drama than a mainstream Filipino rom-com.
The film, directed by Kevin Dayrit, takes us to the highlands of Laguna. Specifically, a sunflower farm. It’s pretty. But the beauty is sort of deceptive because the characters are carrying a lot of baggage.
What Is The Burning Season Movie Actually About?
Basically, the story follows Charlie (Jane Oineza) and Son (Enchong Dee). They have a history. A messy one. Years after their initial spark fizzled out or, more accurately, went up in flames, they reconnect at a pivotal moment in their lives. Charlie is trying to manage her family's sunflower farm. Son shows up, and suddenly, the past isn't so buried anymore.
It's not just about "will they or won't they." The movie spends a lot of time on the concept of seasons—both literal and metaphorical. In farming, the "burning season" is when you clear the land to make room for new growth. It's destructive but necessary. The film leans hard into this metaphor. Can you really start over without burning down the version of yourself that existed with your ex? Probably not.
The pacing is deliberate. Some might call it slow. I’d call it patient.
Why the Chemistry Between Jane and Enchong Works
Jane Oineza is one of those actresses who can say more with a side-eye than most can with a three-page monologue. In The Burning Season movie, she plays Charlie with this guarded, almost prickly exterior. You can tell she’s been hurt, but she’s not playing a victim. She’s just tired.
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Enchong Dee, on the other hand, brings a different energy. Son is charming, but there’s an underlying sense of regret that he wears like a heavy coat. When they’re on screen together, it doesn't feel like they're "acting" out a romance. It feels like two people who know exactly which buttons to push to annoy—or entice—each other.
The Visuals and That Sunflower Farm
Let's talk about the setting. Most Pinoy movies go for the beach or the bustling streets of Manila. Choosing a sunflower farm in Laguna was a stroke of genius. Sunflowers are bright and happy, right? Not in this movie. Under Dayrit's direction, the fields feel vast and isolating.
The cinematography by Theo Lozada is top-tier. There's a lot of natural light, but also deep shadows. It mirrors the internal state of the characters. One minute they're basking in the warmth of nostalgia, and the next, they're hit with the cold reality of why they broke up in the first place.
Why People Get The Burning Season Movie Wrong
A lot of viewers go into this expecting a "hugot" film. You know the type. Lots of shouting in the rain, dramatic declarations of love, maybe a comedic best friend for relief.
The Burning Season movie isn't that.
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It’s quiet. It’s introspective. It deals with faith, or the lack thereof, and how our upbringing shapes our capacity to love. There’s a sub-plot involving a religious cult/community that adds a layer of complexity you don't usually see in this genre. It asks tough questions about blind devotions. Whether that's devotion to a leader or devotion to a person who clearly isn't right for you.
Breaking Down the "Burning" Metaphor
In agriculture, burning the fields is a way to get rid of pests and weeds. It prepares the soil.
In the film, "burning" is painful. It’s the process of deconstructing the ego. Charlie and Son have to face the ugliest parts of their shared history. If you've ever had a "the one that got away" or a "the one I should have left sooner," this is going to sting.
The movie doesn't give you easy answers. It doesn't wrap everything up in a neat little bow with a wedding scene and a pop song. It’s messier than that. Just like real life.
Key Themes to Watch For:
- The Weight of Expectation: How family and community pressure dictate our romantic choices.
- Spiritual Crisis: Using religion as a shield against personal pain.
- The Passage of Time: How we change, but our memories of people stay frozen.
Is It Worth Your Time?
If you appreciate cinema that takes its time, then yes. The Burning Season movie is a masterclass in subtlety. It’s a film that stays with you long after the credits roll. You’ll find yourself thinking about the choices you made in your early twenties. The people you let go. The bridges you burned.
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It’s a "vibe" movie, but one with actual substance.
Practical Steps for Viewers and Aspiring Filmmakers
If you’re planning to watch, go in with an open mind. Don't check your phone. The nuances in the performances are easy to miss if you're multitasking.
- Watch for the symbolism: Pay attention to how the sunflowers change throughout the film. They aren't just background props.
- Listen to the silence: The sound design is intentional. The moments where no one is speaking are often the most revealing.
- Check out the director's other work: Kevin Dayrit has a unique voice in Philippine cinema. If you liked this, look into his earlier projects to see how his style has evolved.
- Discuss the ending: Talk to someone else who has seen it. The ending is polarizing, and your interpretation says a lot about your own view on forgiveness.
The film serves as a reminder that Philippine cinema is more than just formulaic blockbusters. There is room for art, for silence, and for the uncomfortable heat of a burning season. This movie proves that sometimes, to grow, you really do have to let everything turn to ash first. Catch it on Netflix if you want a romance that actually feels human.
The most important takeaway is that closure isn't something someone gives you. It’s something you build after you’ve cleared the wreckage of the past.
For those looking to dive deeper into the technical side of the film, research the "slow cinema" movement in Southeast Asia. You'll see how this movie fits into a larger tradition of regional storytelling that prioritizes atmosphere over traditional plot beats. If you're a writer, study how Dayrit uses the setting as a character. It's a textbook example of world-building on a budget.
Don't expect a typical happy ending, but expect an honest one. That's the real magic of this film. It respects the audience enough not to lie to them. That's a rare thing in movies today.