Review: Heneral Luna (2015)

87/100

The Philippines has such a rich-in-nuance history: so complex, so awesome, and so tragic. It bears a weight that, at the end of the day, only Filipinos will understand; one that the rest of us will never understand, that I will never understand. Fortunately, many of them have experimented with breaking this lingua-cultural barrier through various universal mediums, among them are theater and cinema. And in regards to Philippine art, I think the topic isn't complete without a notable play or significant film.

Heneral Luna was written by Henry Francia, E.A. Rocha, and Jerrold Tarrog; the latter also directed it. The three together created another form of art once again trying to spread the Filipino feeling to the world, but unlike a lot of "national war" films, they never forget the very definition of universality. Even by covering just one segment of the country's storied history, the film manages to encapsulate the timelessness of history in the country even until now, taking advantage of period elegance and putting a local garnish. It puts so much audiovisual faith in those in the country watching the film, yet it never forgets its international audience, and once again, through film, entire cultures connect.

Heneral Luna depicts the titular character, a real-life general, as he leads his men his own way through the Philippine-American War in 1898-99. Very subtly, one could feel the emotional significance of this war to Luna. To him, it not only will determine the fate of the country, but also the fate of the local humanity, whose deterioration is slowly taking effect. Needless to say, he has very big ambition, yet his words just don't seem to reach the brains of the political realm, whose minds also infect some of the military members he thought he could trust. He came to the conclusion that Filipinos themselves are their biggest enemy, and that to win the war, they must challenge their own mindsets.

I might not call Heneral Luna arthouse, as its message is clearly reachable among the mainstream. It has become one of the most talked-about contemporary Filipino films and has been expanded in a Netflix sequel Goyo: The Boy General (2018). But with a lot of the arthouse symptoms visible, Tarrog has the unique ability to incorporate artistic merit into this-- hate to say this but-- strictly-historical piece. And that is not a bad thing! History has notably been depicted through paintings, whose bold use of color and shades help us get a feel of what it was like back then. The film, whose cinematography was inspired by such paintings, enlivens the paintings further using moving images and well-mixed audio, so instead of giving audiences an impression, they put us on the battlefield. The camera hides as the others hide, observes closely as emotion rises, and freezes as the characters contemplate.

In a way we are a third-person invisible audience, travelling back through time, and reflecting on what is happening. While the film puts the characters in a location and follows as they make decisions promptly, we are never them, we are never Luna. And that's where the film successfully indicates his and the era's significance. Moments like Luna playing guitar and him giving declaring a dying soldier colonel, those are when the film truly shines to its emotional core. We cannot change the fact that a wound was created, so we can simply participate in it. When the characters are in pain, we too feel it, because we can only stare at this wound, unable to treat it.  When a major decision is made, aided by neatly-rapid edits by Tarrog, there is no turning back and I was at the edge of my seat. It is very sensitive of the filmmakers that they put an artistic license disclaimer at the beginning. A bland history would not appeal even to the documentary geeks. A historical account works when it connects to your heart.

Of course, my sorrow watching the film will never match the locals'. However, the film successfully shares a portion of that sorrow in such a poetic, effervescent way. Another thing I notice is the combination of theater and cinema; despite Terrence Malick opining the scripted nature of theater can't work on film, it does work here. The film is abundant with front medium shots akin to Broadway videos, texts displaying the characters' names and statuses, and more texts providing context to the different timelines. This is a unique style I've never seen, not even in the most popcorn movies. By-- per the opening texts-- "combining the real and the imaginary", Heneral Luna gives itself a docudrama feel that further amplifies our vicarious participation. It is as if we are touring the past, with a very charming guide explaining. And to Filipinos, they make for a great local tribute.

By putting these primary elements to mind, the rest of the film's aspects like music, acting, and the 1.85:1 widescreen aspect ratio altogether create a wonderful trip. And trips, of course, always fall flat sometimes. There was once when I nearly fell to good sleep, as there were moments where Heneral Luna just feels repetitive, as if I am witnessing the same things over and over again. Dialogues can become very frequent, to the point where the film felt merely like a visualization of a book, even though the other scenes redeem that. Tarrog seemed to focus on one emotion so much, it became the whole film, making it feel trapped and nothing unusual. The action film vibes pop up several times and are explicitly detailed with the amateurish-looking title. It is not the most pleasing film to watch, and I had definitely expected better.

But two things. Perhaps, my hopes of the film further amplifying its emotions may ruin the authentic nature of the story, and I had expected too much as well for an early attempt in such genres. The film nonetheless is great, and I really have nothing more to criticize. Tarrog provided a historical insight with great sensitivity and creativity, and it is overall a great attempt at making reality, real. Rarely do historical or war films put me in a state of suspension of disbelief, since they are so premeditated it becomes a lossless bore and a very plastic recreation. While Heneral Luna is not immune to these problems-- like Luna said, "No one is immune to law"-- the film does emphasize more than just that. The film makes us think, makes us feel, and makes us changed. That's what a good film should do.

Heneral Luna is available on YouTube and Netflix