There is no doubt that the film comes out during a time when it is most needed. It dares the Filipino audience to steer its attention back to the crucial: a look at the past to further understand the present and struggle toward the future. It showcases what the Filipino filmmaker can do: an artful creation that forwards a significant story that can still connect with the Filipino people. It represents a much-needed fresh air in Philippine cinema: a break from the clichéd roles and worn-out formulas. The layers that both visuals and dialogue create – carried out by a director that knows what he wants and needs, and a cast that understands and delivers – can be both breath-taking and satisfying. A quick montage of a necessary flashback. Apolinario Mabini’s side glance to a bloody sword.
Luna’s guitar playing in front of a full moon. Everything is executed to plan to show the facets of the characters that dialogue cannot convey. Cheap frills are cut away from the edges. There is very little wasted space and time. In the rare moments that shouting subsides and rifle shots quiet down, the visuals speak louder. When vested interests come to play, the water clears and intentions become a tangled mess. But there is no mistaking the villains that lurk in corners. Sure, it is named after the Heneral but it is also easy to see where his weaknesses lie – his fits of temper, his stubborn doggedness – essential to grasp at reasons for its ending. While many films tend to side with the protagonist, HENERAL LUNA does not, because there isn’t necessarily one. We see the comedy and end with the tragedy. The allowance for creativity, however, did not take away from the film’s goal. While the film allows for artistic vision and therefore not completely based on real events, it allows Luna to rise and come alive. Many only know him because of his famous surname one, of course, that he shares with his brother Juan, the painter, veiled also in greatness and grandiose. We have been offered very little of this man in our history books.
Instead, we are given a man so incredibly flawed, with twisted humor and questionable decisions, but here he is: Antonio Luna in blood and flesh. It thrusts Luna in the spotlight sans the intention of glorifying him as a hero. Heroes and heroines remain in our currency and street names, wrung out of humanity. Our past remain in the past, immortalized in sepia tones, overcoats, and a bolo in the air. We remember names and memorize dates and places, but rarely recall meanings and understand significance.
No doubt, there is trouble with our history textbooks and the way we are taught about our past. The only real general the Philippines ever had.