Jose Rizal (1998): Experiencing from within
A film critique
by Romulo Aromin, Jr., MD, KCR 081624
New York - To commemorate the centennial of Philippine independence from Spain, GMA Films commissioned a project tackling the autobiography of Dr. Jose Rizal. With it, key figures were called into play. The process of making the film Jose Rizal, from its incubation until completion in 1998, recruited many a gem from different disciplines the Philippine cinema has to offer. Twenty-six years later, we viewed the remastered version of the film which carries the same brilliance and relevance today.
‘Jose Rizal’ was originally offered to Mike de Leon, an established cinematographer turned successful director; however, Marilou Diaz-Abaya took the directorial helm after Mr. de Leon bowed out due to artistic differences.
How do you present the narrative of someone of iconic proportions whose work resulted in the Philippine Revolution and liberation, while being respectful of historical facts, his legacy and his writings, and at the same time humanizing him without falling into the seduction of mythologizing him?
Ms. Diaz-Abaya, known for her feminist art, especially in tackling issues affecting women and those who are marginalized, knew fully well the task at hand. Through this film, there was no doubt even for a moment the joy of discovery the team experienced through archival and research work as they conceptualized, worked and reworked the creative process. As viewers, we became the eventual recipients of what is now a patrimonial cinematic legacy.
The film provided new revelations both from historical and personal viewpoints and while the outcomes were no surprise, it was through its masterful storytelling, acting, design, musical score, editing and above all, direction, that makes the experience compelling and indelible. What was originally intended to be a film review turned out to be for me a journey spilling into a larger introspective experience, of vicariously traveling through the making of a nation, my country the Philippines, battling its way free from its Spanish colonialist past, and ultimately achieving its freedom.
The narrative is nonlinear but effectively weaves through Rizal’s life story. From early childhood and family life, his education to include his diminishing ignorance of the Spanish occupation and its effects, leading to forced, painful awakenings shaped by his current sociopolitical and religious contexts, his struggles, writings, personal life, condemnation and execution and death - all in the service of subjugating the Indios. That as Filipinos, they must remain governed and indebted.
The film opens up as Rizal finishes his novel. It is poetic and fitting as these very same novels, Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, the engines of the revolution, were also incorporated as subplots of the film, conspicuous in grained black and white.
We are again reminded of Ibárra, Simón, Padre Damaso, and Elias. We are therefore witnesses to these parallel events, a powerful tool that initially separates Rizal the person from Rizal the novelist, only to coalesce later on into a single unifying story/persona as the story unfolds.
The central conflict was presented at the outset. The abuses of Catholicism as embodied by the frailes (friars) even overpowering the government itself. There is nothing more searing than witnessing a Filipina praying in all her nakedness and forced submission to an overbearing preying priest raping her, a symbolism to the larger dehumanization of Filipinos. This was the very same priest we saw earlier in the pulpit extolling virtues from compliant churchgoers. We see members of the clergy extorting taxes from farmers to fatten the church coffers, refusal of which is met with public flagellation and shame. It is not that we did not know how it ended. The power of storytelling lies in its epic presentation, highlighting key events in his life and still focused and paced to keep the tension moving until its ultimate resolution.
The English subtitles were helpful for non-Filipinos to follow but they will not substitute to the context of the vernacular and the affective message it conveys. There is no language to substitute “Namamatay ka na bago pa lang dumating and iyong kamatayan.” (You are already dead even before you meet your death). Or “Ang taniman ay handa na at ang lupa ay hindi baog” (The plant fields are ready and the earth is not sterile). This loss in translation is what Cinematography (Rody Lacap) and Design (Leo Abaya) artfully compensated for.
The film’s greatest strength lies in its ability to present Rizal to his audience in the totality of his person. Through real and symbolic images, we identify with Rizal’s aspirations, frustrations, fears and anger, as well as his failings. In this sense, we become him. However, it was his filial love for his country that is most palpable and which laid bare for us to see and experience. This mirroring was consistent from the outset.
Standouts included his realization of unequal treatment as a student, his wrestling over the idea of leaving home to fight overseas through written propaganda only to realize that the real battle was at home, his forced deportation and four-year prolonged isolation to Dapitan where he was wholly stripped of his political activities. There is the harrowing experience of having to deliver his own son and not being able to save him in the process, burying him in solitude, and many, many more. These adversities lay pale as we see his resilience mirrored in his gestures and bodily and facial expressions, a lyric of fine acting so beautifully channeled by Cesar Montano.
This immersive experience meets its full height as we view the segment depicting the crucial hours before his execution. Here, we see the character of Simón (the incarnated Ibárra) etched out from El Filibusterismo confronting Rizal face-to-face to change the outcome of the novel, another moving cinematic technique where he faced his own vulnerabilities and guilt at its barest, catapulting an emotional rapture which led to his final writing. The conflict was the same dichotomy that Rizal has wrestled with all along. It was the same polarizing struggle that was floated at different phases: the Katipuneros tearing their cedulas, the armed uprising and taking of the garrison, the siege of ten towns after Rizal’s death. The wars of pens and Rizal’s calm were so effectively contrasted by the sustained intensity of anger and vigor of the oppressed as embodied by Bonifacio (Gardo Verzosa).
We continued this crescendo of events. Rizal was telescopically viewed as he prepared himself, put his dress, cufflinks and tie on, and then his hat. We were with him head held high, keeping his gaze with the bystanders, as he serenely, though gallantly, walked amidst the guards from Intramuros to Bagumbayan. We felt the thumping and the rebuke, the revelry and vexation of his audience, as we also heard the deafening silence and cries of his own countrymen. Alas, the dignity of facing death, for the country he so dearly loved and falling to the ground as he searched for that morning brightened by the sun, with the last breath and tears, “Consummatum est”. All these unfold before us as his last ode, “Mi Ultimo Adios” is recited to us.
No less than Gil Quito, a noted Filipino American writer known for ‘Merika (1984) and Itim (1976), provided the film’s context and facilitating post screening discussion and comments. It should be noted here that his close collaboration with Ms. Diaz-Abaya positioned him to write her biography.
The group behind the film made history as it garnered 17 out of 18 awards for that year at the Metro Manila Film Festival, the most for any single film, and also for the festival’s history. Ms. Diaz-Abaya would later posthumously be conferred the Order of National Artists of the Philippines for Film and Broadcast Arts in 2022. Indeed, as a woman and mother, she knew her country’s lamentations. It was her destiny. The screenwriters Ricky Lee, Jun Lana and Peter Ong Lim were forever etched in the archives with Lee still an active screenwriter, continuing to mentor other younger talents. Lana would continue writing and directing, winning awards and accolades, and he is so prolific to be inducted into the Palanca Awards Hall of Fame.
A repeat showing is scheduled for August 27th at King Juan Carlos I of Spain Center at NYU (KJCC) in collaboration with the Philippine Consulate General in New York. #
(R. Aromin is a practicing psychiatrist in Manhattan. A student at CUNY Graduate Center, he finishes his Master in Biography and Memoir in the Fall of 2024).
