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I went into Ramona S Diaz’s documentary about Leni Robredo’s #Halalan2022 journey with high hopes. I knew it would touch on her struggles in a government led by the populist despot from Davao, but I was hoping for something that offered more than what we’d already seen — or what we, Kakampinks — as Robredo’s supporters call themselves — had already experienced during her volunteer-powered campaign.
But instead, ‘And So It Begins’ ends up being a documentary that doesn’t fully commit to introducing Robredo to the world. It provides a decent look at the volunteer work behind her electoral efforts, but it reads more like a journal than a deep dive into the factors that may have led to her loss. It ultimately becomes more like an amorphous recap than a thorough exploration of the why.
I cried multiple times during the film. Watching the struggles of journalists and the amazing volunteer work really hit me hard. As a journalist and volunteer myself, it felt very personal. But here’s the thing — it’s a bit self-serving and wraps up being an echo chamber of personal experiences. That’s a problem because a film that’s too focused on its own bubble isn’t going to shake up the political scene in the Philippines anytime soon.
Maria Ressa almost stole the show. As a complementary film to A Thousand Cuts, And So It Begins is at its strongest when it shines the spotlight on her. Ressa, the embodiment of charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent in Philippine journalism, never fails to command attention whenever she opens her mouth. And her presence in this documentary is a continuation of the riveting force that captivated the world in A Thousand Cuts.
The film has several technical and narrative issues, and you’ll likely hear plenty of critiques about how it strays from traditional documentary standards, but there’s something I genuinely appreciate about And So It Begins. I love how it doesn’t villainize the part of the electorate that remains trapped in a broken system — those who keep voting for the very people who perpetuate their struggles. It’s refreshing that the film tried its best to avoid casting these voters in a negative light. However, while it steers clear of blaming them, it also misses the opportunity to engage directly with their perspectives.
Ninoy Aquino once said, “I have weighed all the virtues and faults of the Filipinos,” and just like he saw worth in the Filipino spirit despite its flaws, I also see value in And So It Begins.
Sure, the film has its weaknesses and often feels insular, but it still provides a compelling look at the devotion of those working to improve the Philippines’ political landscape. This dedication shows Aquino’s deep belief that “the Filipino is worth dying for.”
The film might not be perfect, but it does a great job capturing the passionate commitment of a volunteer network working for political change and radical love.
This review is also published on ABS-CBN News.