Thunder and storm attended the birthing of Ferdinand E. Marcos. In the humble house, two women watched over Josefa Edralin in difficult labor. Her husband, Mariano, had left to fetch the comadrona or local midwife. Amidst more rains and roaring sound, the father of Marcos came back, alone. Marcos would, in that difficult situation, be born.
That scene opens the film called Iginuhit ng Tadhana. The Story of Ferdinand E. Marcos. Marcos grows into a little boy, bullied but heroic as he withstands the beatings of several boys. His father comes to the rescue and brings him aside for usapang lalaki-sa-lalaki (man-to-man-dialogue). The father tells the son “it is not good to cry. Men cry only when there is a strong reason. Women cry because they are weak.” The next scenes show Marcos a voracious reader and growing up still reading voraciously.
Released in 1965, the film would imbue Marcos a bigger-than-life persona. The narrative is part-hagiography, part-good-manners-and-right-conduct. To astute political observers, it was the reason for his victory over Diosdado Macapagal.
Macapagal, interestingly, also had a film-bio. It was called Tagumpay ng Mahirap (The Triumph of the Poor). It was directed by three filmmakers—Lamberto Avellana, Gerry de Leon, and Eddie Romero—who would all be declared National Artists in a program envisioned by Marcos’ first lady, Imelda. The film was said to be based on the book, Macapagal. The Incorruptible.
Given the results of the presidential election in 1965, it appears that no celebration of poverty can ever topple any narrative heralding Destiny.
Marcos was always monumental. In 1964, he released a biography entitled For Every Tear a Victory. The book predicted Marcos ascendancy. It opens with this paragraph: His is a necessarily sober review of the life of one of the most extraordinary men alive, a man likely to become President of the Philippine Republic. He is now forty-six and, like Lenin, has been Number One all his life at everything he laid his hand to. A million Filipino natives believe he has the magic talisman anting anting in his back and that he cannot fail at anything… He has miraculously survived near-death eight times… Before he was twenty-five he won more medals for bravery than anyone in his country’s history… This charismatic man promised his constituents in 1949 to be President in twenty years…
The paragraph ends with this line: His destiny is conspicuous.
Destiny, it seems, in the form of big words and cinema, has never stopped working when it comes to Marcos. This time though, fate has conscripted a group of documentarians to let their form of cinema speak about Marcos and his dictatorship and the issues this country of ours has faced.
Was it Destiny that dictated to serve to us the story of a dictator on the silver screen of feature films whose core is artifice?
Daang Dokyu, A Festival of Philippine Documentaries, fateful or not, was supposed to open in March but the pandemic stopped the feast from pushing through. Finally, the festival that “celebrates the greatest documentaries from film and television, as well as hidden films from different regions” opened on September 19, to remind us of Martial Law imposed by Marcos, the dictator.
The opening films were all about those dark years and the period that followed.
Here is a question: Did it ever occur to the Marcoses, whose origin was documented by cinema and whose administration created structures like the Film Center, imposed festivals like the First International Film Festival, and went on to fund experimentations and exploitations in cinema through the Experimental Cinema of the Philippines that one day, a festival of truths and realities in cinema, would make a star of their dubious legacies?
Truths thus came in the form of an ABS-CBN documentary with a bedeviling title, Marcos: A Malignant Spirit. The title is lifted from the statement of a US senator, Stephen Solarz, who described Marcos as “a malignant spirit escaped from the underworld.” The documentary is narrated by Angelo Castro who reminds us that not so long ago, there were newscasters who delivered the goods in sober, clean and clear English language. When did the broadcast freaks dominate the scene?
With restraint, Castro allowed the scenes to speak for themselves the truth. There were scenes of mobs storming the Malacañang, battering portraits of Marcos and Imelda. The truths were there in footages of the more than 40 boxes and suitcases brought over by the Marcoses when they were flown to Clark Airbase. In Guam, we witness even the nannies of the family dressed in the regulation white finding themselves in a foreign country (What happened to those maids?). Arriving in Hawaii, the customs officials were said to be shocked to see the bounties brought over by the Marcoses, like boxes of “newly minted peso bills” worth millions; a dozen fur coats from Imelda; and astounding collection of jewelry. We see for the first time a tiara worth a million, a necklace worth 8 million, and a set of earrings, necklace and ring worth 30 million, among others. Then there is the collection of pearl jewelry that, according to customs officials, when placed on the floor of the customs office would occupy some 40-plus square feet of space. There are boxes of VHS (what can be found in them?).
Settled in Hawaii, Marcos and Imelda were subjected to deposition right there in their house. Amusing but annoying were the responses of Imelda and Marcos to the investigation. Both automatically invoked their right against self-incrimination and right to remain silent.
But truths of all kinds are never meant to be silent. The documentaries curated for this festival finally underscores the delayed arrival of an art form that is built around truth rather than artifice. The cineastes have generally relegated the documentary to the side for a long time, relying on the cautionary tales of feature films. In these days of fake news, there is hope in a cinematic approach to life, which, even with the advent of so-called “creative documentaries,” burdens itself with the responsibility of narrating the true and the real.
Behind the Daang Dokyu is the Filipino Documentary Society (FilDocs), a non-profit organization that aims to elevate the appreciation of documentaries and push documentary filmmaking in the Philippines. It is founded by filmmakers Kara Magsanoc-Alikpala, Baby Ruth Villarama, Jewel Maranan and Monster Jimenez.
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Image credits: Jimbo Albano