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‘QUEZON’ AND THE POLITICS OF MEMORY: HOW CINEMA REWRITES HISTORY

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Manuel L. Quezon (played by Jericho Rosales) — PHOTO FROM @TBASTUDIOSPH

There’s something unsettling about how “Quezon” forces us to look again at a man we thought we knew. The film doesn’t simply replay a chapter of history—it rebuilds it. And that’s where the argument begins: depiction, not duplication. Cinema is not a mirror of the past but a creative act of cultural production, one that refuses to bow to nostalgia or family myth-making.

Here, Manuel L. Quezon is not a sainted father of the nation. He is a charismatic and polished politician, a sharp strategist, and an eloquent dreamer who nevertheless finds himself constrained, compromised, and ultimately undone by the iron grip of US imperialism. The film’s power lies in how it chooses its historical fragments—crafting a vivid picture of the Philippines at a crossroads, caught between colonial dependency and the illusion of independence.

At its heart, “Quezon” is a film about contradictions: class power and vulnerability, heroism and complicity, idealism and opportunism. It draws strength from its willingness to expose not just its subject’s brilliance but also the colonial structure that shaped—and limited—him.

Scenes that shatter

There are moments in “Quezon” that move and stay with you long after the credits have rolled.

The first: Quezon campaigning in Laguna, his voice breaking as he chants for freedom, the crowd echoing him like a chorus of the nation’s own heartbeat.

The second: the haunting Bulacan parade for Emilio Aguinaldo—once an annual commemoration, now turned into a dark carnival of reckoning. People in black wave black flags; windows are shuttered; placards demand justice for Luna and Bonifacio. Then the banner drops: “Traydor.”  It is the chilling wrath of ordinary people standing bravely against impunity.

And finally: Quezon, weakened and dying, being wheeled into a chamber reserved for the terminally ill. He screams his own name in frustration—a desperate, defiant cry of identity. It is a moment of reckoning with his failures against the formidable measure of national sovereignty. History itself trembles. 

Rivals, mirrors, and shades of gray

The film’s portrayal of Quezon and Aguinaldo is strikingly nuanced. They are less heroes or villains than uneasy reflections of each other—ambitious men navigating the same treacherous terrain of colonial politics. Peasants resent Quezon for shutting down Aguinaldo’s farm. Aguinaldo predictably sides with American Governor Leonard Wood, while Quezon tries to outmaneuver him with calculated defiance.

And yet, Aguinaldo is not caricatured as a total monster. In a rare moment of grace, he spares a woman abandoned by Quezon (they were wed in an underground marriage once sanctified by the Katipunan). Aguinaldo refuses to humiliate her publicly—even when it would serve him politically. It’s a reminder that in the murky space between ideals and survival, even rivals retain a sense of dignity.

The journalist as conscience

What deserves attention, but has been overshadowed by debates over “historical accuracy” and “unfair depiction,” is perhaps the film’s most radical insight: the power of journalism to shape—or sabotage—revolutionary consciousness.

Enter Joven Hernando, a fictional reporter who challenges the false binary between pen and sword, having fought with the Katipuneros before witnessing the new American colonial order. In a striking scene, Hernando verbally indicts Quezon’s opportunistic politics. Quezon defends his compromises as necessary tactics toward independence. But Hernando, echoing Mao Zedong, poses the decisive question: Compromise for whose benefit? Para kanino?

The young Joven Hernando (played by Arron Villaflor) —PHOTO FROM @TBASTUDIOSPH AND @RAFF.EVNGLSTA

It’s a moment that lays bare class contradictions. Quezon himself articulates the tension, revealing how the petit bourgeois—the educated middle class—can live comfortably within colonial subjugation, their politics inevitably entangled with compromise and corruption. Yet “Quezon” refuses to stop there. Through Hernando’s wife Carmen and daughter Nadia, it paints another picture: women who are not silent bystanders but active participants in the struggle for freedom. Their agency quietly eclipses the ornamental portrayals of Quezon’s and Osmeña’s wives, whose beauty and propriety are all that are expected of them.

Sergio Osmeña (played by Romnick Sarmenta) and Quezon —PHOTO FROM @TBASTUDIOSPH

Yesterday’s chains, today’s amnesia

Watching “Quezon” today, it’s impossible not to draw parallels between the past and our present. The film’s world knew US imperialism for what it was—a system that shaped every aspect of national life. Today, that clarity is rare. Corruption is reduced to a moral drama of good versus evil individuals, obscuring the systemic world order—unequal exchange and entrenched imperialist structures of dependency. Such thinking slides into toxic subjectivism and uncritical relativism, too slippery for meaningful critique.

Why did independence once feel so urgent—and now so abstract? In the 1930s, the Katipunan’s victory was still a living memory. Now, the dominant institutions—media, academia, church, government—have absorbed the US counterinsurgency narrative: that revolution is futile, that only “peaceful” reform can save us. The film quietly, but firmly, calls this bluff. Beneath the promise of stability lies elite violence and colonial continuity.

Jerrold Tarog’s “Quezon” rejects this false peace. It insists on historical materialism—a grounded, unsentimental view of how power operates at a critical moment. It reminds us that the unfinished revolution against imperialism, bureaucrat capitalism, and feudalism remains the task of our time.

Cinema as counter-history

In one of the film’s most reflexive moments, Quezon himself predicts that cinema will one day shape the nation’s story. The film takes that prophecy and turns it inside out. Quezon’s goddaughter Nadia shows how film can just as easily perpetuate lies as it can expose them—and he embodies that very contradiction.

Tarog and screenwriter Rody Vera seem acutely aware of this paradox. Their film is not a monument; it’s a provocation. It asks us to reconsider who gets to tell history and how those stories shape what we believe about our nation’s failure, freedom and future. 

“Quezon” doesn’t ask for our comfort—it demands our reckoning. It is, above all, a reminder that cinema, like revolution, is never neutral.

Sarah Raymundo is an assistant professor at the University of the Philippines Diliman-Center for International Studies and a member of the Bagong Alyansang Makabayan’s national executive board.

First published in CoverStory — November 7, 2025

Film/TV

ART IMITATES LIFE IN CINEMALAYA 2025’S HARD-HITTING INDIES

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Nour Hooshmand in Sari Dalena’s “Cinemartyrs” — PHOTOS COURTESY OF CINEMALAYA PHILIPPINE INDEPENDENT FILM FESTIVAL

By putting a premium on thematic pertinence over pomp, formula and pageantry, the Cinemalaya Philippine Independent Film Festival has continually asserted its place as the country’s preeminent indie showcase since 2005. It explores stories that are deemed too risky for mainstream audiences and espouses perspectives that champion the weak, oppressed and marginalized.  

These indies operate on a lower budget, yet attract the stellar likes of Nora Aunor (2014’s “Hustisya,” 2016’s “Tuos”), Vilma Santos (2013’s “Ekstra”), Sharon Cuneta (2017’s “Ang Pamilyang Hindi Lumuluha”), Judy Ann Santos (2012’s “Mga Mumunting Lihim,” 2016’s “Kusina”), Coco Martin (2012’s “Sta. Niña”), and Marian Rivera (last year’s “Balota”), boosting their credibility and larger-than-life appeal beyond the mainstream market.

For its 21st season, not a single superstar is attached to the festival’s 10 official entries in the full-length category, but the full-capacity screenings that we attended prove there’s more to moviegoing than stargazing. This despite the fact that a regular Cinemalaya ticket (at ₱350 each, with a discount for students) is more expensive than the usual price of admission (₱280) for a Filipino movie showing at the cineplexes these days.

With CCP theaters closed, film buffs can watch the entries until Oct. 12 at the Shangri-La Plaza (in Mandaluyong), Gateway Mall 2, Ayala Malls Manila Bay, Circuit, UP Town Center and Market! Market! (Go to www.cinemalaya.org/schedules-3 for the full schedule.) 

We hope the festival can stretch its legs beyond the confines of these predominantly progressive urban enclaves. After all, Cinemalaya’s gutsy productions should be appreciated by more and more film aficionados all over the country. 

On our must-see list are Sari Dalena’s “Cinemartyrs,” Renei Dimla’s “Republika ng Pipolipinas,” and Dustin Celestino’s “Habang Nilalamon ng Hydra ang Kasaysayan”—three films that alternately play out as meditations on Pinoy identity, the repercussions of generational trauma, and the beleaguered Everyman’s quixotic quest for justice and accountability.

‘Cinemartyrs’

“Cinemartyrs,” about a young filmmaker, Shirin Dalisay (Nour Hooshmand), who takes her crew to Jolo to shoot a massacre scene inspired by a bloody Tausog wedding in 1906, should be a shoo-in for Best Picture. With Sari (“Dahling Nick”) at the helm, the movie snugly incorporates genre filmmaking into a tantalizing mix of sociopolitical rumination, cinematic lore, feminism and magic realism. 

The storytelling approach may not be every viewer’s cup of tea, but Sari grounds her delectable production with a unifying perspective that elevates the story beyond its cautionary revelations and suspense-thriller elements. It features cameos from screen auteurs Kidlat Tahimik and Lav Diaz (as a Christ-like figure rallying behind doomed katipuneros) and the lovely Raquel Villavicencio playing—hold your breath—four strong women interacting with one another! 

‘Republika ng Pipolipinas’

Geraldine Villamil in Renei Dimla’s “Republika ng Pipolipinas”

Our personal favorite is “Republika ng Pipolipinas,” a spot-on mockumentary about widow Cora Vitug (Geraldine Villamil, in a crackerjack portrayal worthy of the festival’s coveted Best Actress plum) who renounces her Filipino citizenship after enduring harassment for refusing to sell her land to local authorities wanting to turn her farm into a dumpsite for Korean trash. 

Following incessant threats of demolition, Cora stubbornly decides to build a micronation surrounding her property in which she declares herself president, with the livestock she’s raising as its citizens. 

Cora’s desperate act strikes a chord with other Filipinos who are also getting increasingly impatient about the government’s apathy and inability to address their urgent concerns. No words ring truer and more heartbreaking than when Cora wistfully muses, “While other countries send their garbage to us, we send our loved ones to serve them.”

The merry villagers helping Cora navigate her dire situation include her fence-sitting, tocino-peddling neighbor Juliet (Kakki Teodoro) and her vigilant daughter Ekay (Natalie Maligalig), with the winsome Alessandra de Rossi gamely playing her principled, lovely and kookie self. You can’t get any more meta than that.

Geraldine pulls off the high-wire act of shuttling between her character’s dramatic and comedic complexity and makes the difficult task look easy. The film’s over-all tone may be satirical and broadly comedic, but we left the cinema with a heavy heart—and with tears in our eyes.

‘Habang Nilalamon ng Hydra ang Kasaysayan’

Cast of Dustin Celestino’s “Habang Nilalamon ng Hydra ang Kasaysayan”: (from left) Dolly de Leon, Jojit Lorenzo, Zanjoe Marudo and Mylene Dizon

Another soul-stirring case of art imitating life is the hard-hitting and whip-smart existential drama “Habang Nilalamon ng Hydra ang Kasaysayan,” Celestino’s polemic against corruption that astutely mirrors Leni Robredo’s heartbreaking defeat in the 2022 presidential election. In this parallel world, losing candidate Eleanor Robles (Frances Makil-Ignacio) calmly accepts defeat while her dashing but cocky opponent (Andoy Ranay) celebrates his runaway victory at the polls. 

This sobering and stifling atmosphere serves as the backdrop that informs the dramatic interplay between two couples: On one side, there’s losing political strategist Kiko (Jojit Lorenzo) and his wife, history professor Bea (Dolly de Leon), daughter of a desaparecido; then there’s Robles’ disillusioned speechwriter David (Zanjoe Marudo) and his new girlfriend, election lawyer Mela (Mylene Dizon, razor-sharp and award-worthy as always), on the other. Bea says she has lost interest in teaching because, as she notes, “Students these days would rather forget the past. So what’s the point?”

These relationships quickly unravel after it is revealed that Mela’s father is General Leonardo Lanuza (Nanding Josef, scary and vulnerable in equal measure), the dementia-stricken former top executioner of the Filipino dictator responsible for the death and disappearance of many political prisoners, including Bea’s father, during the dark days of martial law. Tension reaches fever-pitch when Kiko and Bea get invited to the wedding of David and Mela. But, as his online bashers ask: Is David guilty by association? 

The film benefits from the impact generated by Cinemalaya 21’s best ensemble, which also includes the continually evolving Anna Luna as Mela’s younger sister.

“Hydra” is a better-realized companion piece to 2023’s “Ang Duyan ng Magiting” devoid of the latter’s occasionally off-putting and excessive theatricality. But while it is as relevant as it is powerful, it’s hard to shake off the irony that, even as “Hydra” proselytizes about abuse and accountability, a coproducer of the film (Nathan Studios, owned by the Ataydes) is enmeshed in the current real-life corruption scandal that most of its characters eloquently rail against in their emotionally charged confrontation scenes.

It’s gratifying to note that the two other significant ensembles in the lineup come from LGBTQ-themed films that move the queer discourse front and center: Kevin Alambra’s “Warla,” starring the fabulous foursome of KaladKaren aka Jervi Wrightson, Lance Reblando, Serena Magiliw and Valeria Ortega, and Nigel Santos’ “Open Endings,” featuring the gorgeous quartet of Jasmine Curtis-Smith, Janella Salvador, Klea Pineda and Leanne Mamonong.

‘Open Endings’

Cast of Nigel Santos’ “Open Endings”: (from left) Leanne Mamonong, Janella Salvador, Klea Pineda and Jasmine Curtis-Smith

In Santos’ unapologetically rousing film, the comfortable routine of lesbian exes-turned-best friends—composed of Hannah (Jasmine), Charlie (Janella), Mihan (Klea) and Kit (Leanne)—is upended when Hannah announces her shocking decision to marry the new guy in town, Matteo (Migs Almendras). Can the girls’ friendship survive when their unmanaged expectations and other personal issues start bubbling to the surface? Take a wild guess.

‘Warla’

Lance Reblando (left) and KaladKaren aka Jervi Wrightson in Kevin Alambra’s “Warla”

The stakes are even higher in “Warla.” Alambra’s plausibly concocted thriller is an intricately spun cinematic yarn that tracks the dangerous course 19-year-old Kitkat (Lance) takes after Joice (the compelling KaladKaren), the leader of a kidnap-for-ransom gang of transwomen, takes the naïve stowaway under her wing. 

But while Kitkat appreciates her self-appointed guardian’s doting presence and support, it’s the criminal company Joice keeps that puts the beleaguered teenager on tenterhooks. Is there a happy-ever-after beyond the transphobic world Kitkat, Joice, Luningning (Valeria) and Barbie Ann (Serema) live in?

‘Bloom Where You are Planted’

Agnes Mesina in Noni Abao’s “Bloom Where You are Planted”

Noni Abao’s gut-punching documentary illustrates the bleak repercussions and dangerous risks activists take to stand up for farmers’ rights and push back against militarization and red-tagging in Cagayan Valley. 

Agnes Mesina, Amanda Lacaba Echanis and Randy Malayao’s respective fights may be long, lonely and arduous, but their sacrifice isn’t lost on the people whose lives (and livelihood) they protect.

‘Raging’   

Ron Angeles (left) and Elijah Canlas on the set of Ryan Machado’s “Raging”

Don’t be put off by its seemingly meandering pace. Ryan Machado’s film eschews the irresistible lure of high-strung melodrama for something more thoughtful. There’s deliberate reason behind the slow and bleak rhythms of its narrative progression as it charts 19-year-old protagonist Eli Miniano’s (Elijah Canlas, with innate gravitas on full display) reckoning with sexual abuse one month after he was raped by his trusted peer Arjo (Ron Angeles). 

Following the cops’ refusal to help him pursue the case, the teenager’s quest for justice is further stifled by an unsympathetic community that chooses to sweep the sexual indiscretions of its toxic men under the rug. But when Eli finally musters enough courage to express his pent-up frustrations, all his walls come crashing down. It’s a compelling pay-off worthy of its moody setup. 

‘Paglilitis’

Rissey Reyes-Robinson (left) and Eula Valdes in Cheska Marfori’s “Paglilitis”

Cheska Marfori’s production treats sexual abuse with more agency but handles its emotionally charged sequences with less vulnerability and subtlety. In “Paglilitis,” Jonalyn Samuel (pretty Rissey Reyes-Robinson) goes through the wringer after accepting the help of lawyer Sylvia Ardenia to sue her sexually abusive former boss, Eduardo Guzman (the terrifying Leo Martinez). 

But Jonalyn’s situation goes from bad to worse when the milk mogul succumbs to his illness, making her clout-chasing lawyer lose interest in the case. Is it time for Jona to throw in the towel and charge everything to experience?

‘Child No. 82: Son of Boy Kana’

JM Ibarra (left) and Rochelle Pangilinan-Solinap in Tim Rone Villanueva’s “Child No. 82: Anak ni Boy Kana”

“Pinoy Big Brother” alumnus JM Ibarra has found the right material to put his earnestness and strong screen presence to good use. He makes his auspicious big-screen debut in Tim Rone Villanueva’s insightful fantasy film as Max, who attends the wake of action superstar Boy Kana (Vhong Navarro) to prove that he’s one of the actor’s many illegitimate children. 

While its storytelling inventiveness and themes on identity and fanaticism are issues viewers can instantly relate to, it’s the movie’s dodgy visual elements that occasionally weigh it down. In fact, in the supposedly sweeping opening scene intended to send up Fernando Poe Jr.’s swash-buckling romp in a desert for “Ang Panday,” we overheard a viewer behind us tell his seatmate, “This looks too shoddy, like a scene from a pirated DVD!” Ouch.

‘Padamlagan’

Ely Buendia in Jenn Romano’s “Padamlagan”

Like JM, Ely Buendia also appears in his first lead role in a Cinemalaya vehicle—but with less success. Jenn Romano’s thematically potent but uneven “Padamlagan” casts the singer-songwriter as a father who races against time to search for his missing son after the collapse of Colgante Bridge in Naga during the Peñafrancia fluvial procession in 1972.

Almost 140 revelers perished in that tragedy, but their family members’ collective grief was soon overshadowed by the declaration of martial law five days later—a disquieting turn of events that could have heightened the film’s sterile dramatic scenes. 

Of course, it’s a thrill to see the elusive Eraserheads frontman stretch his artistic wings, but with lengthy monotonous moments dulling the initial excitement down, the novelty of it all quickly overstays its welcome. Our verdict: It’s a missed opportunity for the elusive OPM icon.

First published in CoverStory — October 10, 2025

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HILIGAYNON SHORT FILM ‘HASANG’: A SURREAL, INDIGENOUS VIEW OF GLOBAL WARMING

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By Trixie Aurelia Ningas

ILOILO CITY – The art of filmmaking goes beyond mere entertainment. Creativity fuels passion, but it also allows the filmmaker to express the truth about the society that the viewers are a part of.

For 24-year-old Daniel dela Cruz, the director of the award-winning short film “Hasang (Gills),” this meant going back to the roots of the Ilonggo people and evoking meaningful ideas out of something traditional yet inspirational. 

In his latest work, Dela Cruz explained how “Hasang” was born from his passion as an advocacy-driven director, purposely highlighting global warming as one of the pressing issues we face today. He infused real photos of a flourishing environment from the old days where a river flowed freely and the land had not yet been converted into modern-day subdivisions—depicting the nostalgia of what used to be.

“Hasang” is a heartfelt and enchanting story that weaves together themes of grief, folklore and the enduring bond between humanity and the natural world. It follows the main character Boni (played by Igan James Nualda), a young boy who grapples with the looming death of his grandmother (Ofelia Gempeson) as her body slowly transforms into a tilapia—an idea adapted from indigenous beliefs that enables the film to explore the permeable border between life and death. 

Dela Cruz grew up in Barangay Binanua-an, Guimbal, Iloilo, with his grandmother, an avid teller of folk tales. One of her stories is about how unseen spirits guard our forests and rivers, which encapsulated the director’s deep respect for the environment. This helped develop his skills in storytelling, which were enhanced when he became a broadcasting student at West Visayas State University in Iloilo City. 

A member of their artistic community’s Guimbal iFilm Society, he came to realize in his third year that he had already worked on numerous films, which had drawn him away from his focus on broadcast media. He found himself pondering why he pursued a broadcasting degree even though he was more passionate about filmmaking.

The thought, however, did not dissuade him from continuing his studies. In fact, he realized that all the video productions, script writing classes, and sound and production design workshops, which he underwent while pursuing a college degree provided the foundation and added structure to his craft.

Community stories

Since 2019, Dela Cruz’s filmmaking journey has been grounded in community and school-based narratives. Among his most notable works are “Judith (Due Date),” which won first place at the West Visayas State University (WVSU) Days Film Fest 2023; “Ang Bistida Ni Ana Sa Mata nga Pula,” which won first place in the short feature category at the 35th Gawad Alternatibo by the Cultural Center of the Philippines; and “Purya Usog,” which was selected for prominent regional film festivals such as CineKasimanwa and CinemaRehiyon, and later judged best film at the Iloilo Youth Short Film Festival 2024.

Most recently, Dela Cruz’s cinematic work “Ang Gadya Sang Suba” earned the best festival film award in the Montañosa Film Festival 2025. 

In retrospect, “Hasang,” filmed between March and April this year, was inspired by Dela Cruz’s childhood experiences and the superstitious beliefs imparted by his grandmother. A comforting belief that when a butterfly flutters into the home, it is often seen as a sign that the spirit of a deceased family member has come for an unexpected visit. That framed his story.

Dela Cruz intends to unsettle his audiences and leave them with questions to reflect on the whole idea of the film itself. Now, as a person with a playful upbringing, he has never meant to turn “Hasang” into a drama film.

“So, I said, ‘Why don’t I restructure this idea into an absurdist type of film?’ Like if people can turn into a butterfly, why can’t they turn into a tilapia?” he said with a smile.

As he witnessed the urgent crisis of global warming, Dela Cruz looked back at his childhood days, remembering how he had spent most of it by the Jarao River that once teemed with life. This painful observation sparked a flow of ideas, much like the river’s own current. Inspired by these reflections, he began writing these ideas as he thought to himself that he had found the best material for this year.

Production challenges

Through this surreal indigenous worldview, “Hasang” presented how nature is not separate from us but rather an extension of our beings and our ancestors. It delicately portrays how loss can be both an ending and a return, honoring the cyclical rhythms of life.

The young director also shared the challenges the production crew encountered while filming “Hasang.” One challenge was cutting 50% of the scenes in order to meet the 15-minute time length for the final material.

The shift of genres from narrative to absurdist posed another hurdle, especially since they had spent the last seven years creating narrative films. As it was their first time to venture into different genres, their efforts ultimately paid off after “Hasang” earned several awards among 16 other Hiligaynon films during the 21st Bantayan Film Festival 2025 last April.

The film was cited for Best Story, Best Sound and Music, Best Screenplay, and Best Production Design. Capping off the film’s achievements, Dela Cruz received the Best Director award for his masterful storytelling and artistic vision.

“When I won Best Director, I felt validated because it was a recognition that if you go back to your roots, if you go back to where you come from and tell your truth, your vision and material will be recognized,” he said.

A scene from the 15-minute film.

“Hasang” was last screened during the Binisaya International Film Festival last Aug. 19. It took a huge step from university and local film screenings to the national stage. From more than 100 entries, this Best Screenplay winner was selected as one of the 10 finalists in the short film category to be showcased in the upcoming Cinemalaya Film Festival on Oct. 3-12 at the Shangri-la Plaza Mall in Manila.

Dela Cruz’s dedication to his craft has paid off, as this opportunity is a reminder that even Western Visayas narratives can be brought into the spotlight and presented on a broader platform, captivating audiences across the country with a story that is both relatable and deeply rooted in local culture.

For this emerging film director, whose journey began with eagerness just after graduating in 2023, in a world easily dazzled by polished cinematography, high-end technology, and expensive equipment, he is always reminded that story is still king.

In the end, filmmaking isn’t just about the perfect lenses and good lighting—it’s about holding on to your voice and fearlessly sharing it with the world.

First published in CoverStory – October 3, 2025

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