“Being Filipino means carrying the ghosts of our past without letting them fade”
Cinemalaya has always been a festival of courage, of stories that dare to speak, remember, and hope. Last week, I watched four of this year’s 10 films, and they did not disappoint.
Renei Dimla’s Republika ng Pipolipinas reminds us that hope begins in defiance.
Cora Vitug, the farmer who founds her own independent nation “Pipolipinas,” embodies the ordinary Filipino who refuses silence. Her mock declaration of independence becomes a moral awakening for a nation numbed by neglect.
Alessandra de Rossi, playing herself, bridges the real and the imagined. As both witness and participant, she blurs the line between fiction and reality, showing how art can expose truths that politics often hides.
Cora’s act reminds us that being Filipino is not merely citizenship; it is community, the courage to reclaim our voice, and faith that change begins when people refuse to give up on one another.
If Republika ng Pipolipinas teaches us to be brave, Habang Nilalamon ng Hydra ang Kasaysayan teaches us to remember.
Celestino’s allegorical film, with the Hydra as metaphor for corruption and disinformation, mirrors the endless cycle of moral decay that plagues our country. Yet it also insists that resistance, however exhausting, is necessary.
Dolly de Leon’s Bea, who upholds truth in the face of denial, embodies the quiet strength of educators, historians, and truth-tellers who keep memory alive.
Mela, portrayed by Mylene Dizon (Best Actress), is an election lawyer confronting her own complicity. Her moral awakening reminds us that being Filipino means not only blaming systems but examining our own choices within them.
Jojit de Leon’s Kiko and Nanding Josef’s General Lanuza (recognized as Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor respectively) deepen this moral spectrum, showing how both courage and evil are human creations.
Bea is right: our job is to hope. We must never stop, but we can sometimes rest.
Where Hydra looks outward at society’s decay, Sari Dalena’s Cinemartyrs turns inward to history, memory, and the act of storytelling itself.
Following Shirin, a young filmmaker reenacting the 1906 Bud Dajo massacre, Dalena confronts how cinema shapes remembrance. Her experimental blend of archival fragments and surreal imagery refuses passivity.
The film demands emotional labor, as if to say that history is not something to watch; it is something we bear.
Dalena’s Best Director recognition is not just for artistry but for reclaiming erased voices, especially those of women and southern communities long silenced by patriarchy and empire.
Through Cinemartyrs, I realize that being Filipino means carrying the ghosts of our past without letting them fade.
Dalena’s courage to unearth forgotten filmmakers and massacred histories urges us to honor the stories that built us. She transforms cinema into an act of remembrance, teaching that empathy begins with memory.
To love one’s nation is to face its wounds, to make art not as escape but as resurrection.
Finally, Noni Abao’s Bloom Where You Are Planted brings these lessons down to earth. As the first documentary to win Best Picture at Cinemalaya, it redefines cinema not as spectacle but as witness.
It is notable that another documentary, Alipato at Moog, also won Best Picture at both FAMAS and Urian. This is a good harbinger of things to come.
Through the lives of activist Agnes Mesina, political detainee Amanda Echanis, and NDF peace consultant Randy Malayao, Abao crafts portraits of courage rooted in community in Cagayan Valley, a rich yet troubled land. These are not mythic heroes but people who keep planting hope in barren soil.
Their stories teach that resilience is not mere endurance; it is tenderness that survives injustice.
Abao’s calm, observational style mirrors the humility of his subjects. There are no grand speeches, only gestures of resistance and persistence.
On a personal note, Agnes has been my friend for more than 35 years. A year ago, she introduced me to her son Gab, also featured in the film. Since then, I have mentored him in climate justice work. I watched the film with Gab beside me and saw how deeply he was moved, watching his mother’s and his own life unfold on screen.
Together, these four films remind me that art is not separate from life. History is the source of art, but art, in turn, helps us live better and work for a better country.
And to think, I watched only four of the films. Next year, I resolve watch all the full- length films and as many of the short films possible. I will take a leave from work and cancel all my appointments if I must.
In watching these Cinemalaya films, I became a better Filipino and a better human being. That feels good.
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