I TRY to go to the cinema when a movie is enticing enough to make me pay a huge amount or otherwise drive and look for parking in a car-congested area. In the recent years, the Metro Manila Film Festival (MMFF) has been giving me that impetus. This year, Manila’s Finest was at the top of my list.
The cinematographer and director, Raymond Red, is known as an independent and alternative filmmaker. His short film won the prestigious Palme d’Or at the 2020 Cannes Film Festival. His last movie was made in 2015. Manila’s Finest was his first entry to MMFF.
In an interview for the MMFF, Red said that his “distance from mainstream moviemaking was not of his own accord.” As for his movies’ absence from streaming platforms, he explained that “the major element in cinema was not just motion — it was time. You catch your audience in a specific length of time … in film, you capture them.” He aimed at an audience who would sit down and watch a movie the way its story was meant to be told.
Set in Manila between 1969 to 1972, the film focused on a sociopolitical moment in our history and the police force that found itself in the middle of the action. Four officers of the Manila Police District, their chief, and a young recruit roamed the streets at night and kept the peace in daylight among rival gangs and youth demonstrators. Over time, through tips from a journalist and with questionable events happening at every turn, these men witnessed the maneuverings of a recently formed unit, the Metropolitan Command of the Philippine Constabulary. And this they took as intervening with their job.
The tension was all about power. Manila’s Finest versus Metrocom. Piolo Pascual’s Capt. Homer Magtibay was offended by the intrusion into their turf. At least that’s how I saw it.
To be fair, Magtibay was a decent police officer, mentor, subordinate, and father — he wasn’t made out to be a hero, but he was decent nonetheless. However, he wasn’t really portrayed as struggling with the violence on the streets. As an anti-riot cop, he must have been so exhausted patrolling at night, hauling criminals to the station, preparing for student marches, and practicing “maximum tolerance” while balancing his family duties, his social calendar, and his mistress. As a public servant, he must have, at one point or another, specially before learning of his daughter’s political leaning, doubted the intentions of the protesters or been frustrated by their chosen method. And yet, physically and mentally, Magtibay looked crisp regardless of the place and the hour. He was impeccable at breakfast. He was undisturbed at demonstrations, even as his colleagues stood with mere rattan shields. More than an awakening to a prelude, a play that was Martial Law, it felt like a pure power struggle between men in different uniforms. (Except for the ending, but even then, there wasn’t enough buildup.)
Enrique Gil’s Lieutenant Billy Ojeda was the one who seemed to feel strongly against injustice. The disgust towards protesters. The unfairness of being punished for doing his job. The horrible abuse of power against women at night. Whether it was due to his youth or his erratic emotional state — getting drunk on a work day but adhering to his father’s admirable views on money and independence — at least he showed where he stood with respect to assault on one’s principles and honor, even if it meant beating up a demonstrator or considering changing loyalties at one point in the movie.
Acting, visuals, the feel, those cars, props, and sound, and the subject matter — I was impressed with Manila’s Finest. But it was this distance from Capt. Magtibay that prevented me from being truly moved by the film.
Why am I writing this? I’m no film critic, but I believe in the power of stories. Because if the movie had moved one person, then I think it could be the start of genuine reflection. And at this time, I know we could all use some meaningful conversations. Whoever is out there trying to educate the youth, inspire the middle class, challenge traditional leaders, and converse with anyone who is on the other side, there must be a connection. Telling stories cannot just be about being clever but also showing vulnerability and authenticity. Sometimes people change only if they can relate with their hearts.
Change through storytelling may not have been on Red’s mind when he agreed to take over the directing in the middle of the film’s production. Just the same—because this movie is so relevant — that doesn’t stop me from wishing it formed part of his vision.
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“Manila’s Finest” won the most awards during MMFF’s Gabi ng Parangal, including Third Best Picture, Best Cinematography, and Gatpuno Antonio J. Villegas Cultural Award for reflecting Filipino identity and values while engaging with issues that resonate with society b yond entertainment. Check your local listing, or better yet, clamor for its showing in your area./PN
