“It’s easy to look into the insults committed by this film”
WRITING is my way of seeing. It is where I create my thoughts in my own sense of style from a first-person point-of-view. It is how I retreat after looking at things that are new, as well as some old-fashioned interesting images of spectacle.
It is here where I want to process my understanding of the country’s highly divisive movie of the year, Jerrold Tarog’s “Quezon.” I have been anticipating these past two months, having to watch this 137-minute film’s trailer ever since I got wind of it. As soon as I looked into Thursday’s showtimes, I did not hesitate to make my decision. The ticket prices were, let’s just say, something bearable. All I could ever think was Quezon, the film.
As it started, I was greeted by Benjamin Alves as the “Quezon,”. he dressed himself in a fashion that was covered in loud vaudeville-era music done in black-and-white. As he made his way to surrender, he acted so convincingly; his make-up was tailored to the aesthetics of movies with no sound. He cried and pleaded as he looked into a jail cell, only to end in a “hopeful” note with the flags of Spain and America rolled down together.
Out with “Quezon,” in with “Casey”; the lead star Manuel Luis Quezon (portrayed by Jericho Rosales) entered the Nacionalista’s victory party with the same amount of lavish extravaganza. Complete with the set of ballroom music and guests, he celebrated a victory that was out of his long and grand design. He was smiling in varying degrees and motives. He had to show his grin to tell that his season of politics was, quote-and-unquote, all behind him.
Casey, before the Commonwealth, knew power before earning it. He soaked his hands and sparred with bobbleheads left and right. He knew no colleagues, not even Osmeña; in fact, the film depicted the Cebuano politician as a lackey to his endeavors. He had no knowledge of consideration and mercy. He did them all through the move of his tongue and jaw as he persuaded them with the slit of his tongue.
The movie was designed as satire; its visuals were infused with themes present in silent movies. It had its own “acts” to follow in narrating his plot for the presidency. The score also paid homage to its setting, veering away from the customary weight of “heroism” through strings.
I understand why Quezon’s descendants derided the film. It was claimed to have this done in a mocking fashion. Depicting Quezon in these themes was an offense. An upper-cut punch created by Jerrold Tarog to establish his exploits as the country’s total politician in full display beyond history textbooks. It was a damning sight to see, indeed. A slap on anyone’s face who grew up idolizing him.
But the kind of idolatry is also reflected in a coin. Once a symbol of Casey’s binding ties with a close associate, he is now reduced to a commemoration-of-sorts in the monetary practice. However, there remains a strong symbol of him as the man who built the Philippines as we know today. The politics of maneuvering, manipulation, and money. The industry of how people in power today get to survive through the aid of their own power play.
It’s easy to look into the insults committed by this film. But the biggest crime “Quezon” committed was to humanize him. To see that he was far from being a hero. That he is never worthy of being considered in high regard as the ideal president. Casey was the archetype of how a politiko should move — ambitiously cunning with his tongue laden in swords. This is its bitter truth.
A postscript, perhaps. I just wished a Cebuano actor could’ve played Osmeña. If they got Iain Glen to portray Wood, maybe they could’ve extended the same effort to cast anyone else apart from Romnick Sarmenta. Pastilan.
