Respeto

Cinemalaya was one of the festivals that was always ablaze with passion, raw talent and a soul of its own. We've seen many a good film together in previous festivals, when we were just dating. Until, for at time, it becomes swallowed by the mainstream, too commercialized. But perhaps these passions never really fade out, they were always just lurking. We were there and we felt as if it's survived its way out of commercialization and the mainstream. And here we are again, taking our 1-year old daughter along with us to a film festival.

When we were young, we judged our fellow youth as mainly apathetic, then pretentious when they tried to be artistic, or pseudo-intellectual when they set themselves out to become intellectual.  In our late thirties, maybe we've become slightly wiser, and now we say it's just thankfully energizing to be around younger people. We didn't even expect them to share any ideals, but many of them just spontaneously just do so.

The film was directed by a D.'s friend, and friendships are always a motivating hand to do something we would have otherwise passed on. I was curious, of course, but I haven't even seen the preview. It had something to do with Marcos, Martial Law, the "War on Drugs." That was enough.

My eyes wear teary all throughout this fiercely emotional film, moved by the sorrows mirroring our present society, and partly because of the guilt of my own political inertness. Respeto is a musical (hip-hop), poetic and artful criticism of Duterte's war on drugs, of impunity, this normalization of violence, rooted upon our own historical amnesia. Better than any academic critique, this movie is a poignant slap on our face. It doesn't just move you, it shakes you up as it tells you that violence begets violence. This dictatorship, this violence is intrinsically tied and traced back to the dictatorship that was literally still fresh in our memories. The movie is set on these streets, within the 2-kilometer radius of the city where I am, spot on, where the killings happen. We are all in it, we all let it happen.

When the lights went back, I saw that the theater was not just a full-house. Even the steps were occupied. The applause was thunderous. My eyes were still all moist against my glasses.

The woman beside me, a foreigner who smelled like cigarette smoke, complimented us on how our baby was quiet all throughout film. "I hope it didn't ruin your experience of the film." I said. We smiled and exchanged pleasantries. The cheers went on.

"21 dead in one night over 100.25 gms of shabu. While those involved and the names being dropped in connection with the 604kgs of shabu seized are enjoying due process that the govt deprives the poor and small players." 

On the way out of the theater, we our friend M. and S. We snapped some photos together, and they told us someone had and episode while watching. It might have been a severe panic attack.

We still can't stand to watch each other die.