CriTEque: A Review on the Movie ‘Quezon’

Written by Manuel Allam
Layout by Maria Sabrina Villanueva

In 2015, a year before the 2016 Philippine national elections, the first of director Jerrold Tarog’s “Bayaniverse” trilogy was released. Titled Heneral Luna, the titular hero’s feisty patriotism, arrogance, bluntness, and profanity-laced tirades were associated with a mayor from Davao City, leading many to believe that the film’s “strongman politics” somewhat contributed to Rodrigo Duterte’s presidential victory.

A decade later, the Philippine political landscape had shifted drastically, and in this new landscape, Tarog completed his trilogy with the release of Quezon.

Unlike Heneral Luna and Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Quezon takes a departure from the first films’ linear narrative to tell the story of former President Manuel L. Quezon, superbly played by Jericho Rosales. The story unfolds in chapters, each dedicated to the adversaries he clashes with and defeats in his ascent to power during the Philippine Commonwealth.

More than a clever form of exposition, the film was also interspersed with black-and-white silent “campaign films,” which glorified Quezon’s achievements and boosted his popularity. Although the films are largely fictional, they offer a factual glimpse into his populist, narcissistic, and savior complex tendencies.

In exploring what makes a bayani, Tarog’s choice to have a president as a subject is curious. When discussing national heroes, we are often met with images of fierce soldiers and revolutionaries who died for their country. Although Quezon served during the Philippine-American War, he waged war in courtrooms; his tactics were reserved for politicking, and he died of natural causes.

Moreover, what makes him a hero?

BAYANI: “Bayan” before “I”

The “Bayaniverse” trilogy deconstructs our heroes as flawed personas and complicated characters. Outside school textbooks and the towering monuments, it is not enough to learn why our heroes became heroes; equally important is to ask how.

They are bayani, where “bayan” should come before oneself, “I,” but bring them down from their pedestals and strip them of their regalia; we are faced with mere mortals, Filipinos with ambitions who made questionable decisions and contradictions.

Far from the battlefields of the first two films, Quezon dropped the Mausers and the Remingtons in place of a battle of words and wits. The film is teeming with constant scheming, manipulating, sullying, ribbing, blackmailing, patronizing, and backstabbing. Scenes we are all too familiar with.

The film did not glorify Quezon. Schools and general knowledge already did that. The film made no mention of his role as the “Father of the National Language,” his mission to save Jewish refugees from the Holocaust, or his giving women the right to suffrage. He was portrayed solely as a conniving politician, and Manuel Quezon as a father and a husband; it is a film we have yet to see.

However, if the film teaches us anything, it is that heroism is not absolute. Actions may stem from genuine concern or self-interest, but in defining a hero, their contribution shapes how history remembers them. By humanizing them, Tarog urges audiences to admire their courage as heroes and learn from their mistakes as humans. Heroes exist as a reminder of our shared history, not someone to be idolized and worshipped.

Fact and fiction

One of the returning characters in the trilogy is Joven Hernando (played by Arron Villaflor and Cris Villanueva), who is portrayed from his days as an aspiring journalist with Antonio Luna, a photographer for Goyo, to a seasoned newspaperman and close friend of Manuel Quezon.

But Joven Hernando never existed. He was a creation of the writers; he symbolizes the new generation and the Filipino audience, someone caught up in a game and was too late to realize it. He is often interacting with the heroes, making sense of the world he lives in and the people he is with.

Hernando is just one of the many “artistic licenses” the writers employed to interpret themes and motivations of a character to make the narrative compelling and effective. It would be foolish to treat every frame as a fact. However, for this reason, controversy still surrounds Quezon and the role of historical movies. Which is fact and fiction? Should certain people be mad at the lies or ashamed of the truth? Ironically, the Quezon in the film was surprisingly unlike the one we know, yet unsurprisingly familiar, given the current political climate.

Although Quezon has its merits in entertainment value, it is not the only source of Manuel Quezon’s complex and colorful life. It is not a documentary, nor should it be treated as such. The role of historical films is to make history accessible to the audience, hopefully serving as a gateway to learning beyond what was shown on the screen. Audiences should look for other resources to verify which parts were historically accurate or a product of the creators’ creative liberty.

The film’s distributor, TBA Studios, emphasizes that Quezon is grounded in historical accounts, even offering a study guide (which is unavailable as of writing), and student and teacher discounts to highlight its educational value. The film aims to introduce history in an entertaining manner, promote awareness, and awaken a desire for the arts and civic education. Through the film, future audiences may soon discern fact from fiction easily.

I am the Philippines

In Heneral Luna, John Arcilla’s portrayal of the flawed hero may have inadvertently awakened the passion of some Filipinos and influenced the political landscape at the time. It does not take a film critic to see how that turned out.

If the film had glorified Quezon’s goals and actions in achieving them, how would it impact the Philippines’ current political landscape, considering the rampant and overt corruption? Who would the people identify Quezon with? It reminds us of the power of popular media when one fails to glean truth from the lies and succumbs to false prophets and idolatry.

Among the trilogy, Quezon is the most humorous. But, then again, we laugh not because it’s funny, but because it is painfully familiar. The film’s political circus mirrors our own; a nation trapped in a cycle and mocked by its own mistakes. Tarog confronts us amidst all the jesting, forcing us to realize our laughter is self-directed.

But beyond the cinema, it is our duty to cease being idle spectators. The trilogy invites Filipinos to reclaim agency, to question, to start writing the history of tomorrow, far from the history we were shown in the trilogy.

As the film closes and Manuel Quezon shouts into the abyss, his cry resonates throughout history, and we bravely shout back. We are the Philippines.

Watch the trailer for Quezon here.