Every December, we perform our collective ritual of shaming the Filipino moviegoer for their supposed lack of taste, as if a preference for the cinematic equivalent of a sugar rush were a genetic defect. We lament the box office dominance of the “mindless comedy” while a serious work like “Manila’s Finest” is treated like a bill collector at a birthday party. But we conveniently forget that the industry spent 50 years building this trap.
The historical irony is almost too neat. In 1975, the festival was a September affair, a somber effort to mark the anniversary of the declaration of Martial Law. It was a time when the state used cinema for the “moral regeneration” of a nation under a dictatorship.
Then came 1976. The organizer probably caught the scent of the newly mandated 13th-month pay and moved the whole circus to December 25, forever hitching the birth of a savior to the birth of a commercial product.
You cannot spend half a century feeding a person a candy cane and then act offended when they refuse to chew on a steak.
This brings us to the profound irony of “Manila’s Finest.” Raymond Red has directed a film that is explicitly about the precursor to Martial Law, capturing the simmering unrest of 1969 and the encroaching shadow of authoritarianism. In any other month, this would be a centerpiece of historical reflection. But because of that 1976 pivot, it is now being shown on Christmas Day, forced to compete with commercial franchises and the loud, high-decibel spectacle of holiday counter-programming.
We have reached a point where a movie about the very event the festival was founded to commemorate is now considered an “outsider” simply because it refuses to provide holiday cheer. Raymond Red is not interested in giving you a holiday hug. He is here to document the grime of a city on the brink, utilizing a sepia tone so thick it feels like a moving photograph from a dusty archive.
The film carries itself with a heavy, unblinking self-importance, fully aware that it is indeed this year’s “finest” — and perhaps a little too dignified for the rowdy company it keeps in the mall.
Piolo Pascual plays Captain Homer Magtibay with a weary exhaustion that suggests he knows he is in a movie far too intelligent for its playdate. Enrique Gil is a grounded presence as a lieutenant who actually looks like he belongs in the era, while the production design by Digo Ricio is so precise it makes every other festival entry look like it was staged in a basement.
It is a sharp sting that “Manila’s Finest” emerged as the most decorated work at the Gabi ng Parangal, hauling home eight awards, including those for cinematography and production design. It even claimed the Gatpuno Antonio J. Villegas Cultural Award, a nod to the Manila mayor who founded the original June festival before the December cash-grab became the standard.
The film is a triumph of craft that will likely be ignored by the viewer seeking a temporary escape from their relatives. If the film feels underappreciated, it is because the festival has spent 50 years conditioning the audience to view a theater as a daycare center rather than a place for reflection.
We are asking for a revolution in a shopping mall, and we wonder why the popcorn is still the only thing people are buying.