THAT is my feeling upon watching the latest filmbio of our national hero, Bonifacio: Ang Unang Pangulo. The dialogs of the characters are measured; the pacing of the characters when they walked seems to have been done to some unheard requiem music. If this is how heroes live—and lived—then the question of heroes becomes inevitable. Solemn is solemn, but when solemnity becomes ponderous, rigidity then sets in and we are all dead before any ritual of remembering is performed.
If there is a major contribution we can attribute to this film, it is the debate it encourages. Any work—film, book or theater—that questions history, especially the monumental type, is worth our attention. The title of the film is fascinating more for its claim than what it purports to show in its narrative. The title is in your face, a claim that Bonifacio, indeed, should be considered the first president of the republic, and not Emilio Aguinaldo.
As a non-historian, I’m giddy with the thought that there are discourses that can directly question any historian’s claim. We know for a fact that histories in the Philippines have always been centralized from the eyes of Manila-based historians. The view that proposes to make major the role of Bonifacio is a nod to peripheralized views about the participation of the nonelite in the making of the revolution of this country. From the affirmation of Bonifacio’s presence in the consciousness of the Filipinos is a short step to considering the marked absence of the places outside Manila, and those places that are far from the Luzon grid of storytelling in the tale of the nation that needs to be told and retold.
Intentions, however, are not enough. And this is my problem with the film.
The aim to retell the story of Bonifacio and reclaim his place in the pantheon of heroes fail sorely because instead of being maverick about it, the film follows the hagiographic and stilted portrayal of central heroes like Rizal. Bonifacio is not Rizal and that is a good beginning. Bonifacio is not Aguinaldo and that is a wonderful, threatening claim. It is time to see the more human side of a hero, and Bonifacio more than the other heroes whose lives have been boringly cemented as statues by staid historians deserves a revisit.
I was not the only one with this daring expectation that a new Bonifacio will be explained by a new filmmaker. Beside me in the theater where I watched the film were two senior citizens who, like me, were consigned to the uppermost portion of the moviehouse. Apparently, the two bought their tickets a few minutes before entering the place. Obviously, too, the moviehouse was jampacked, which is good news. If there is an audience for this kind of biopic, then there is hope in this city that goes agog over a Vice Ganda trifle or a Bossing franchise. If there are fans of Robin Padilla as Andres Bonifacio, then the responsibility of scriptwriters and filmmakers double significantly.
As the opening credits rolled, one of the two elderly men beside me muttered: “This should be a good film. It is said much research was conducted by the filmmaker.” If we can have more of this kind of audience, then there is hope for the land. Be that as it may, as the film unfolded, the same elderly man huffed and said: “Ano ba ito, drama?! By that comment, I sensed this anxiety—and rightfully so—that the story of a hero need not be cluttered by sentimentality common among telenovelas. We have enough of these tearjerkers going around.
The two senior critics were also spot-on; the woman involved in this errant love story is no less than Gregoria de Jesus. The letter, now famous, where Gregoria or Oryang writes to the village officer about her desire to marry Bonifacio is an indicator of how tough and strong-willed a woman she was, and how it is unfair now for any film to reduce her to a sweet, docile Vina Morales. Besides, the extant photograph of Gregoria de Jesus, strong jaw and all, is far removed from the lambent features of Morales.
As Bonifacio, Robin Padilla’s strong charm works in some scenes. These, ironically, are the quiet scenes and Padilla is never known for silences and subtleties. It is time for Padilla and his handlers to work on this inner power of the actor. It is when the actor summons his old swagger that we get the jolt: is this Andres Bonifacio or Robin Padilla? Now, here is something contentious: what if the people rediscover in Padilla’s swagger the inner essence of a Bonifacio, will this harm our history or will this contribute to a new consciousness of a hero? Honestly, I do not have an answer.
In the end, it is the form of the film that truly bothers me. There are just too many predictable points where the dialogs rise and the actions rise with them. It is as if the exclamation points are all over the place. When everything is emphasized, nothing is emphasized really.
In the end, the role of three students and a teacher/curator/consciousness hinders the flow of the narrative instead of pushing one scene to another until the impending climax. If these three students are good students of history, why do they have such bumbling, inept and stupid comments? Then there is Daniel Padilla given the role of a student with so much angst, his sense of history feels more like a burden than a boon.
Still in the end, I just love the impudence of this film to declare Andres Bonifacio as the first president of the republic. This claim may not settle any historical debate, but the attention it gets is worth all the flaws of the film. In fact, it is telling of our being very political animals that it is in that Tejeros Convention scene where I feel the audience became most involved. I feel the irritation of Bonifacio there and, out of the darkness of the cinema, I still can hear the voice saying, “Dinaya ng mga Caviteño.” This may not be true but it does convince me cheating during elections is a wholly seductive issue be it during the era of Bonifacio or this one.
***Bonifacio: Ang Unang Pangulo is directed by Enzo Williams.