FOR weeks now, news was circulating online about a group of regional filmmakers banding together. For those familiar with the 12-year old Cinema Rehiyon, which has evolved through the years, there exists an annual festival of filmmakers from the regions. The initiative is basically backed by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts. But the pandemic and the isolation it has brought upon us all has stopped filmmaking of any kind.
Some weeks back, a group of independent as well as mainstream film leaders formed a coalition. They talked for days and slowly came up with guidelines for film production in this age of affliction and easy contamination. I have written about this story already how Film Development Council of the Philippines also came up with its own guidelines and the rest is conflict history.
While all this was happening, there were already voices expressing that the guidelines drafted do not seem to address the concerns of the smaller, underfunded regional filmmakers. Being in the periphery, the regional filmmakers were justified to think that the policies made on the national level may not be particularly applicable to them.
Things would prove to move very fast. Last week, filmmakers from the region were displaying their new profile showing them as part of the newly established Regional Filmmakers Network—RFN.
This week, there was a meeting of the Luzon coalition of the network. I was invited early on but I was a bit hesitant as I fear my presence may alienate some members who do not know me. But something important was about to happen and there I was “outside the room.” I thus said yes to the invite and clarified that I was there as an observer, with the plan to write about them and what they envision to accomplish. As with any organizational meetings, the exchange was impassioned.
On July 7, the official statement of the Regional Filmmakers Network was released. Its opening statement states how “In the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic, regional filmmakers, workers, cineastes and leaders of film communities have come together to evaluate and define how we can best move forward amid the challenges of the times. As a result, we have bonded together to form the Regional Filmmakers Network—a space that recognizes diversity and the unique cinematic expressions in the regions, as well as to promote and nurture our rights and welfare.”
One of its most important propositions is contained in this paragraph:
“Through the years, we have enriched our regional cinema movement and its trajectory toward a decentralized national cinema that is reflective of the archipelagic nature of our country. Free and independent, we are unencumbered by government institutions or by the hegemonic critical establishment. We are an industry in the offing with a distinct mode of production that provides the filmmaker not only the source of creativity and labor, but also ownership of the artistic output.”
Most interesting is their claim to developing a decentralized national cinema that reflects (and I may propose, refracts) the archipelagic nature of the Philippines. This is an assertion that stands against the de-facto assumption, happily debunked I believe, that films made in Manila by “established” filmmakers necessarily become national cinema.
Is this document the first to assert regional cinema as part of the evolving national cinema, albeit decentralized? The document does not forget to accomplish an act whose time has long been overdue, which is the definition of regional cinema. Thus, the document states how they would take the opportunity “to define regional cinema as an organic development in the artistic life of the regions whose direction we must be able to determine for ourselves, and not by people in places of power.”
This is significant because for a long time, regional cinema was first defined by critical minds in Manila and those “people in places of power.” It is about time Bikol defines what is Bikol cinema. It is about time to understand what Central Luzon or Northern Luzon means when it comes to the cinemas coming from those places. In fact, it is time to break apart those huge “central” and “north” to allow specific places within those massive orientations to define a film. The document can be read as an assurance that smaller cultural sites currently shadowed by official geographical divisions be allowed “organic development”—to be themselves.
It was my luck to be able to observe the meeting when the Luzon group was discussing details about the guidelines for shooting in their locality. For these (basically) young filmmakers, the issue about seeking permits for the use of sites in the regions is not mainly about health concerns. Carla Pulido and Mark Lester Valle brought in the issue of environmental support and conservation, a respect for the surroundings and the environment. They were vocal about the fragility of the cultural and physical ecologies of the Cordillera. All over, cultures of colonized nations are vulnerable in many destinations generally exploited by visiting filmmakers.
While the discussion was going on, something was happening somewhere: a report that a SONA team headed by filmmaker Joyce Bernal was going to Sagada to shoot some footages. The news trickled in how the team bringing a special permit from Malacañang was trying to get into an area. Presently, the rule is for FDCP to give that permit but always in coordination with the local governments and other governmental agencies. Did the team skip the protocol? There were many questions.
The meeting of the Luzon group was finished already but with any online engagement, the conversation went on. This time, the talk was on the situation in the Cordillera. The Joyce Bernal team was refused entry to Sagada. A piece of news said the filmmaker was in tears; after all, they traveled far. Tracked, the team was in Baguio already. Was the team eventually refused entry by Banawe?
The document reverses the rules: the regions are now owned by the regions.