I'm hooked.
Just about the point you're convinced that perfection doesn't exist, a person comes along and makes you reconsider.
Just like the concept of perfection itself, it is never truly comprehensible. You approach it with logic but somewhere along the way, you lose all rationality and you engage in a dangerous pursuit of subjectivity and pick up a myriad of constructs while you're at it. When you're face to face with perfection, you really just have a couple of choices.
You can choose to explore it, enumerate the hundreds of ways it became (and retains the quality of being) perfect.. Looking it straight in the eye, you almost can touch understanding. You become an unstoppable set of interrogation looking for retort and it will be too late once you realize it's just futile. You have been consumed by the very concept you we're looking to recover.
Or you could always look from afar, a safe amount of distance from it and enjoy its beauty. Not demanding anything from it, you aestheticize on it's existence gingerly noting every structural component that warrants its incomparable, almost superhuman quality. The distance keeps you safe but the distance also keeps you detached.
Once in a while you encounter a person whose existence can be a good argument for perfection itself. Whether you find yourself consumed or detached, perfection is one concept you will never fully understand nor fully get over. I would just accept that.
10.29.2008
10.26.2008
(Un) Indie Film: Rethinking Independent Cinema
Independent Cinema is seeing a great deal of interest nowadays precisely for it’s name—independent. This claim sure has a lot of problems for it is not inherently clear as to what one means when referring to it. It should only mean that there is a profound interest in anything that goes beyond the ordinary. There is an obsession for anything that tries to break out of the system and this may be good or bad for Philippine cinema. We’ll attempt to crack into these possibilities.
The question of independence deserves a more elaborate theoretical framework—we’ll not attempt it here. The task at hand is to identify sites of contestation in the label independent and possibly see the reason for the need for such.
It is important to understand that independent filmmaking essentially started with Manuel Conde’s effort to break out of the studio system. While he did it successfully, it is unclear if he was aware he was being “independent” or if he’d even appreciate the label. It is possible that he didn’t even care. He just wanted to make films and found more freedom outside the studio system. In any case, the label is understandably a postmodern construction for the era is addicted to labels and is multifarious.
It’s also interesting to look into the dichotomy of art as art and art as catalyst for social change which I think should not be mutually exclusive at all. For the sake of discussion, this dichotomy has the very essence of why independent films exist. It is in defying the extremity of either pole that filmmakers wanted to break out of. But it is this dichotomy that positions the form in an awkward situation where the art is reduced to merely just being for art’s sake or for social change. Although potentially powerful, the dichotomy must be rethought.
Also within the postmodern take is the blurring of tasks. Because the technology of independent filmmaking is more fluid in terms of its production process, a one-man film (a definite impossible task of the past) is now possible. The obscure relations and forces of production in the independent film process is consistent with the postmodern discourse of democratization of art and how to effectively permeate cultural dimensions within the globalized world. Between these lines, we see a consistent pattern of present world cultural systems that rely on exchanges and assimmilation. It is, thus, important to look into film without the burden of the label and with a watchful eye.
The critic is then interrogated. How do you valuate a film based on such relations of production? If there is a blurring of tasks, if there is democratization of art, how does one set the standards? The role of the critic in valuation is to identify consistencies and relevance in such works. No art is independent from the subject and the subjectivities that translate through the artwork should be examined apart from the formal production and exclusivity. The aestheticization should be born out of the experience and not the system of production although the latter would definitely play a part in the judgment.
The star system cannot be neglected by any attempt to breakout of the mainstream. The cultural potential is just too powerful. This is why independent films still subscribe to it (although indirectly) to fuel interest and be recognized. It is crucial for any attempt at divergence to recognize the potentially useful in the current system and integrate this to the newer form. It is this rationale that may explain why independent films’ popularity is still dependent on big names and big names dependent on independent films. This relationship is symbiotic and is essential.
It seems to me that an unspoken importance in independent filmmaking is the need to exploit the gay discourse. The need is logical. It is controversial (to stir interest), it is “empowering (for justification),” and it is “relatively accepted (to sell).” If anything in independent cinema is pretentious, this would definitely be it. The obsession to record a person kissing (or more) of the same sex in a film that formally claims its deviance to the mainstream does not empower the homosexual but associates the gay discourse to secondary status. What it does is further isolate the gay argument to a state of irrevocable immorality and unacceptability while overshadowing this with the label “independent.” The homosexual is then reduced to a mere marketing tool and entertainment with his “unusual ways.”
In more ways than one, the concept of independent cinema in the Philippines (or any country for that matter) is a contestable one. It is not merely technology determining the relations of production but more of intersubjectivities being reduced to a monolithic one. The art form must be relieved of this label if film in the Philippines is to be truly independent.
The question of independence deserves a more elaborate theoretical framework—we’ll not attempt it here. The task at hand is to identify sites of contestation in the label independent and possibly see the reason for the need for such.
It is important to understand that independent filmmaking essentially started with Manuel Conde’s effort to break out of the studio system. While he did it successfully, it is unclear if he was aware he was being “independent” or if he’d even appreciate the label. It is possible that he didn’t even care. He just wanted to make films and found more freedom outside the studio system. In any case, the label is understandably a postmodern construction for the era is addicted to labels and is multifarious.
It’s also interesting to look into the dichotomy of art as art and art as catalyst for social change which I think should not be mutually exclusive at all. For the sake of discussion, this dichotomy has the very essence of why independent films exist. It is in defying the extremity of either pole that filmmakers wanted to break out of. But it is this dichotomy that positions the form in an awkward situation where the art is reduced to merely just being for art’s sake or for social change. Although potentially powerful, the dichotomy must be rethought.
Also within the postmodern take is the blurring of tasks. Because the technology of independent filmmaking is more fluid in terms of its production process, a one-man film (a definite impossible task of the past) is now possible. The obscure relations and forces of production in the independent film process is consistent with the postmodern discourse of democratization of art and how to effectively permeate cultural dimensions within the globalized world. Between these lines, we see a consistent pattern of present world cultural systems that rely on exchanges and assimmilation. It is, thus, important to look into film without the burden of the label and with a watchful eye.
The critic is then interrogated. How do you valuate a film based on such relations of production? If there is a blurring of tasks, if there is democratization of art, how does one set the standards? The role of the critic in valuation is to identify consistencies and relevance in such works. No art is independent from the subject and the subjectivities that translate through the artwork should be examined apart from the formal production and exclusivity. The aestheticization should be born out of the experience and not the system of production although the latter would definitely play a part in the judgment.
The star system cannot be neglected by any attempt to breakout of the mainstream. The cultural potential is just too powerful. This is why independent films still subscribe to it (although indirectly) to fuel interest and be recognized. It is crucial for any attempt at divergence to recognize the potentially useful in the current system and integrate this to the newer form. It is this rationale that may explain why independent films’ popularity is still dependent on big names and big names dependent on independent films. This relationship is symbiotic and is essential.
It seems to me that an unspoken importance in independent filmmaking is the need to exploit the gay discourse. The need is logical. It is controversial (to stir interest), it is “empowering (for justification),” and it is “relatively accepted (to sell).” If anything in independent cinema is pretentious, this would definitely be it. The obsession to record a person kissing (or more) of the same sex in a film that formally claims its deviance to the mainstream does not empower the homosexual but associates the gay discourse to secondary status. What it does is further isolate the gay argument to a state of irrevocable immorality and unacceptability while overshadowing this with the label “independent.” The homosexual is then reduced to a mere marketing tool and entertainment with his “unusual ways.”
In more ways than one, the concept of independent cinema in the Philippines (or any country for that matter) is a contestable one. It is not merely technology determining the relations of production but more of intersubjectivities being reduced to a monolithic one. The art form must be relieved of this label if film in the Philippines is to be truly independent.
Philippine Cinema After Martial Law
Films in the Philippines after martial law took on a new turn as the country searched for its identity in light of its new-found “freedom.” To understand film during this period, we look into the 1989 Lino Brocka work Orapronobis (Pray for Us). The intention is to situate this film within the post-Marcos dictatorship discourse and relate the film’s content to the present political situation.
It is imperative for us to look into the political arena, especially in this period, for the films after Marcos’ dictatorship can reveal much about the relations of production and consumption of the form as they are (the films) direct products of the lifting of PD 1081 and the consequent curtailment of freedom that the artists experienced during that time. In essence, this period promised a widening of parameters as to what films may contain. How the filmmakers responded to it and explored these parameters would sure be interesting to identify.
Orapronobis
Lino Brocka was commissioned by foreign producers to make Orapronobis (1989) for the Cannes Film Festival. This, of course, gave international stature for Brocka as a director and is a clear indication of the international thrust that the film industry was geared towards during this period (and up to today). This attempt is situated inside the globalization discourse of borderlessness. This may be (I’m not too sure) the first time that Filipino filmmakers went out to actively search for support and recognition from international community. The film industry, much like any other industry in the Philippines, is too dependent of foreign funding and recognition. This becomes a problem when a cultural product as potent as film depends its production and judgment in the hands of the west. As it is situated in those terms, so shall the product be in those terms.
However, Brocka’s Orapronobis is a cutting-edge take on a Filipino experience. It exposes the human rights issues of the post-Marcos era in an ironic turn of events as the country is supposed to have been “liberated” from oppression. The main importance of this film is the recognition that the EDSA revolution of 1986 was a shift not from a bad political situation to a good one, but a turn of leadership from one representative of the ruling class to another.
The film is also characterized by the intelligent use of appeal to emotions that lends a hand to the demonization of the anti-communist discourse. The attempt at realism and details is superb and helps in the appreciation of the underground movement’s importance in the resolution of human rights issues and how the military can play the vicious villain.
The universality of the human rights issues discussed by the film may be intentional as the film is geared towards a global eye. It is strategic, in this sense, for the film’s local take on a historical perspective and the ambivalent global appeal pins down the film’s acceptance and celebration.
It is imperative for us to look into the political arena, especially in this period, for the films after Marcos’ dictatorship can reveal much about the relations of production and consumption of the form as they are (the films) direct products of the lifting of PD 1081 and the consequent curtailment of freedom that the artists experienced during that time. In essence, this period promised a widening of parameters as to what films may contain. How the filmmakers responded to it and explored these parameters would sure be interesting to identify.
Orapronobis
Lino Brocka was commissioned by foreign producers to make Orapronobis (1989) for the Cannes Film Festival. This, of course, gave international stature for Brocka as a director and is a clear indication of the international thrust that the film industry was geared towards during this period (and up to today). This attempt is situated inside the globalization discourse of borderlessness. This may be (I’m not too sure) the first time that Filipino filmmakers went out to actively search for support and recognition from international community. The film industry, much like any other industry in the Philippines, is too dependent of foreign funding and recognition. This becomes a problem when a cultural product as potent as film depends its production and judgment in the hands of the west. As it is situated in those terms, so shall the product be in those terms.
However, Brocka’s Orapronobis is a cutting-edge take on a Filipino experience. It exposes the human rights issues of the post-Marcos era in an ironic turn of events as the country is supposed to have been “liberated” from oppression. The main importance of this film is the recognition that the EDSA revolution of 1986 was a shift not from a bad political situation to a good one, but a turn of leadership from one representative of the ruling class to another.
The film is also characterized by the intelligent use of appeal to emotions that lends a hand to the demonization of the anti-communist discourse. The attempt at realism and details is superb and helps in the appreciation of the underground movement’s importance in the resolution of human rights issues and how the military can play the vicious villain.
The universality of the human rights issues discussed by the film may be intentional as the film is geared towards a global eye. It is strategic, in this sense, for the film’s local take on a historical perspective and the ambivalent global appeal pins down the film’s acceptance and celebration.
To Question the Canon: The First Golden Age of Philippine Cinema
Cinema in the Philippines the years directly after the war, as some references account, is the first golden age of Philippine Cinema:
“…The 1950s was the so-called first golden age of Philippine cinema, mainly because at this time, the Big Four studios (LVN Pictures, Sampaguita Pictures, Premiere Productions and Lebran International) were at the height of their powers in filmmaking, having employed master directors like Gerardo de Leon, Eddie Romero and Cesar Gallardo and housing the biggest stars of the industry that day…
…In addition, the stars of these productions also won international awards …
…During this era, the first award-giving bodies were also established (wikipedia)...
…Critics now clarify that the 50s may be considered one “Golden Age” for the Filipino film not because film content had improved but because cinematic techniques achieved an artistic breakthrough in that decade… (http://www.aenet.org/family/filmhistory.htm) ”
These accounts mention several reasons why the 50’s was a great period for Philippine cinema. The studios, the directors, international awards, establishment of award-giving bodies, and artistic breakthroughs all point to this period as an important one. This labeling of periods in film history as golden raises a flag to anyone who wants to understand what merits artistic excellence to pass for such taxonomy. What does it mean for the artist (director, etc.)? What does it mean for the artwork (film)? What does it demand of the film industry?
To answer these questions, we look into two films made during the “first golden age of Philippine cinema”—the 50’s. Anak Dalita (1956) by Lamberto Avellana is an exposition on poverty and hard-edged realism on the life of a Korean War veteran who returns home to the Philippines and gets involved in a smuggling conflict. Biyaya ng Lupa (1959) by Manuel Silos, on the other hand, is a film which explores the intricacies of rural life as tied to land. It starts out with a hopeful young couple getting married, having kids, eventually experiencing bankruptcy, their daughter getting raped, and being haunted by a village goon. The film ends positively when the goon is killed and with a bountiful harvest.
The intention is to look into these films and attempt to discover how the establishment of these films as “great” influences the audience by means of representation as well as position the critic in viewing such.
The Measure for Greatness
Any artist peddling an artwork in the art market is judged by how he/she measures up to the standards set by the canon. A film canon is the limited group of movies that serve as the measuring stick for the highest quality in the genre of film. It is the prime interest of this article to scrutinize the canon and rationalize its existence.
Why is there a need for greatness through the canon? Practically, more often than not, when one watches a film, the aesthetic reflex is to associate the experience to a previous one stripping the current experience off of autonomy thus basing satisfaction through what one had before. This practice of “comparing” in the part of the person experiencing the film is dangerous if we consider how exactly the canon is established.
Institutions (effectively the state) are the backbone of the canon. The groups of people legitimized by the state to endow an object the name “art” set the criteria by which artists must commit to. This commitment by the artist is driven by the need to sell and the institutions provide this to the artist by giving him/her labels, awards, grants, and the most basic – a good review. The credibility of the canon is fueled by these and the institution’s very existence relies on the canon. This give-and-take relationship between the institutions and the canon shapes aesthetic practice and judgment leaving the audience without a critical take and such dissociated (mis)representations normalized.
Anak Dalita and Biyaya ng Lupa
Anak Dalita is set in post-war Manila. It capitalizes on the effect of war to the city as a backdrop for a story of poverty and illegal mishaps. The context in which the film was set is the rebuilding of Manila after the Pacific War. The film discussed poverty and illegal activity recognizing its presence in society and also critiquing it by exposing injustice associated with it. Technically the story was well written, the actors played their parts well and the director obviously explored the cinematic
potential enough.
The point of highlight in Anak Dalita is the representation of poverty. Its aestheticization in the film demanded a certain amount of responsibility in the part of the artist (director, etc.) in making identification with reality possible at the same time catering to the whims (and standards) of the canon. This indebtedness to the canon creates a certain density in the treatment of the film. Such representation, as outlined by the moral code of the existing order, is permeated throughout the film and is translated into normalcy which gives the artist an irrevocable prediction of the viewer’s world conception and order.
Biyaya ng Lupa represents rural life and the false hope that comes with it. Although the film actually leaves a positive mark to the audience, the film is grounded on an urban-centric premise. The contradiction between (and against) city life and life in the countryside is always a discourse on which is preferable and by representing the latter, the film takes a position in the binary and in effect bestows a certain amount of justification to prefer either. The discourse of duality in perceiving happiness as belonging to either is weak for it reduces happiness to just a matter of location when in fact there are a variety of factors that contribute to subjectivities.
These representations comprise the canon. It shaped (and continues to shape) Filipino films using the same binaries and discourses that comprise Filipino subjectivities as well. It is, therefore, dangerous to put an artwork (in this case, film) in an ivory tower when the relations of art production and consumption lie in the hands of a specific few. Subjectivities are created through art and the canon makes sure this is sustained. It is important to interrogate the canon and locate the specific sites of contention where it reduces the human to inessentiality, if not forget about it altogether and look at art as is and finally stop demanding anything from it.
Sources:
"Cinema of the Philippines." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 16 Oct 2008, 15:18 UTC. 19 Oct 2008 <http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Cinema_of_the_Philippines&oldid=245680443>.
“History of Philippine Cinema.” Onlineessays.com. 16 Oct 2008, 15:18 UTC. 19 Oct 2008
"Film canon." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 10 Oct 2008, 22:25 UTC. 19 Oct 2008 <http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Film_canon&oldid=244459850>.
“…The 1950s was the so-called first golden age of Philippine cinema, mainly because at this time, the Big Four studios (LVN Pictures, Sampaguita Pictures, Premiere Productions and Lebran International) were at the height of their powers in filmmaking, having employed master directors like Gerardo de Leon, Eddie Romero and Cesar Gallardo and housing the biggest stars of the industry that day…
…In addition, the stars of these productions also won international awards …
…During this era, the first award-giving bodies were also established (wikipedia)...
…Critics now clarify that the 50s may be considered one “Golden Age” for the Filipino film not because film content had improved but because cinematic techniques achieved an artistic breakthrough in that decade… (http://www.aenet.org/family/filmhistory.htm) ”
These accounts mention several reasons why the 50’s was a great period for Philippine cinema. The studios, the directors, international awards, establishment of award-giving bodies, and artistic breakthroughs all point to this period as an important one. This labeling of periods in film history as golden raises a flag to anyone who wants to understand what merits artistic excellence to pass for such taxonomy. What does it mean for the artist (director, etc.)? What does it mean for the artwork (film)? What does it demand of the film industry?
To answer these questions, we look into two films made during the “first golden age of Philippine cinema”—the 50’s. Anak Dalita (1956) by Lamberto Avellana is an exposition on poverty and hard-edged realism on the life of a Korean War veteran who returns home to the Philippines and gets involved in a smuggling conflict. Biyaya ng Lupa (1959) by Manuel Silos, on the other hand, is a film which explores the intricacies of rural life as tied to land. It starts out with a hopeful young couple getting married, having kids, eventually experiencing bankruptcy, their daughter getting raped, and being haunted by a village goon. The film ends positively when the goon is killed and with a bountiful harvest.
The intention is to look into these films and attempt to discover how the establishment of these films as “great” influences the audience by means of representation as well as position the critic in viewing such.
The Measure for Greatness
Any artist peddling an artwork in the art market is judged by how he/she measures up to the standards set by the canon. A film canon is the limited group of movies that serve as the measuring stick for the highest quality in the genre of film. It is the prime interest of this article to scrutinize the canon and rationalize its existence.
Why is there a need for greatness through the canon? Practically, more often than not, when one watches a film, the aesthetic reflex is to associate the experience to a previous one stripping the current experience off of autonomy thus basing satisfaction through what one had before. This practice of “comparing” in the part of the person experiencing the film is dangerous if we consider how exactly the canon is established.
Institutions (effectively the state) are the backbone of the canon. The groups of people legitimized by the state to endow an object the name “art” set the criteria by which artists must commit to. This commitment by the artist is driven by the need to sell and the institutions provide this to the artist by giving him/her labels, awards, grants, and the most basic – a good review. The credibility of the canon is fueled by these and the institution’s very existence relies on the canon. This give-and-take relationship between the institutions and the canon shapes aesthetic practice and judgment leaving the audience without a critical take and such dissociated (mis)representations normalized.
Anak Dalita and Biyaya ng Lupa
Anak Dalita is set in post-war Manila. It capitalizes on the effect of war to the city as a backdrop for a story of poverty and illegal mishaps. The context in which the film was set is the rebuilding of Manila after the Pacific War. The film discussed poverty and illegal activity recognizing its presence in society and also critiquing it by exposing injustice associated with it. Technically the story was well written, the actors played their parts well and the director obviously explored the cinematic
potential enough.
The point of highlight in Anak Dalita is the representation of poverty. Its aestheticization in the film demanded a certain amount of responsibility in the part of the artist (director, etc.) in making identification with reality possible at the same time catering to the whims (and standards) of the canon. This indebtedness to the canon creates a certain density in the treatment of the film. Such representation, as outlined by the moral code of the existing order, is permeated throughout the film and is translated into normalcy which gives the artist an irrevocable prediction of the viewer’s world conception and order.
Biyaya ng Lupa represents rural life and the false hope that comes with it. Although the film actually leaves a positive mark to the audience, the film is grounded on an urban-centric premise. The contradiction between (and against) city life and life in the countryside is always a discourse on which is preferable and by representing the latter, the film takes a position in the binary and in effect bestows a certain amount of justification to prefer either. The discourse of duality in perceiving happiness as belonging to either is weak for it reduces happiness to just a matter of location when in fact there are a variety of factors that contribute to subjectivities.
These representations comprise the canon. It shaped (and continues to shape) Filipino films using the same binaries and discourses that comprise Filipino subjectivities as well. It is, therefore, dangerous to put an artwork (in this case, film) in an ivory tower when the relations of art production and consumption lie in the hands of a specific few. Subjectivities are created through art and the canon makes sure this is sustained. It is important to interrogate the canon and locate the specific sites of contention where it reduces the human to inessentiality, if not forget about it altogether and look at art as is and finally stop demanding anything from it.
Sources:
"Cinema of the Philippines." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 16 Oct 2008, 15:18 UTC. 19 Oct 2008 <http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Cinema_of_the_Philippines&oldid=245680443>.
“History of Philippine Cinema.” Onlineessays.com. 16 Oct 2008, 15:18 UTC. 19 Oct 2008
"Film canon." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 10 Oct 2008, 22:25 UTC. 19 Oct 2008 <http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Film_canon&oldid=244459850>.
The Lesser of Two Evils: On Philippine Cinema During the Japanese Period
Film as cultural product in the years 1941 to 1946 in the Philippine setting can be best scrutinized through the lens of the Japanese occupation inside the theme of the Pacific War between Japan and the US. The concept of war and its relation to any cultural product is always interesting as we try to understand the implications of imperialist conflicts to the local culturality of “art” events.
When the Pacific War broke out with the offensives of Japan to the US (Pearl Harbor), it was necessary for Japan to integrate the Philippines within its plans through any means necessary in its attempt to secure hegemony. It saw enculturation vital to the promotion of the myth of “Asians for Asians.”
Imperialist Wars
The concept of war as integral in the development of societies (and the state) in the era of monopoly capitalism is important in looking at art in a manner suitable for any analysis that tends to go beyond the exclusive visuality of film for if we dare go the latter direction, we leave a big chunk of the more definitive query. It, therefore, necessitates a seamless linking of war in the imperialist sense and the cultural product as it is experienced by its consumer. It is also a point of interest to expose the reality that the Japanese propaganda, through the film Dawn of Freedom, intended to create in its intent to realize its imperialist mission.
While Japan had a seemingly noble (not to mention self-initiated) task of liberating the Asian region of the North American-European domination, this task can only be seen as fraudulent and preposterous when viewed from the scheme of the political and the economic implications that the war was all about. Vladimir Lenin in Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism* explains: “on the part of both sides; it was a war for the division of the world, for the partition and repartition of colonies and spheres of influence of finance capital (9).” It is in this context that Philippine cinema is poised to highlight the more overt intentions of propaganda than anything else.
Dawn of Freedom
The film Dawn of Freedom by Abe Yutaka and Gerardo de Leon (1944) is born out of these imperialist wars. The context in which it was formulated accounts for the intense use of attempts at identification with its audience although for whom this identification is intended for is unclear. To crack if the film was created for a Filipino or a Japanese audience is not in the interest of this piece. It is, however, a central interest to ascertain characteristics of the audience that this artwork negotiates with and what it persuades this audience to appreciate. To do that, we look into the themes (or the premise and contradictions of which) of the film.
The film contradicts itself in many levels. The film’s premise is the myth “Asians for Asians.” This regional reference was the guiding policy of the rhetoric used by Japan in translating justification for intra-regional colonization and in general, the war. Because of the previously mentioned, the context is not so much a regional matter of the west versus the east as it is a territorial and economic conflict between two imperialist countries. The film fashions an amicable image of a Japanese soldier which would be entirely outside the realm of reality if you ask any Filipino who was there (fighting or being harassed) during the war.
Bottomline: Preference
These inaccuracies in representation imposed a new type of reality to the audience that Japan intended to root the cultural potential of their quest into. The question of whether this reality was acceptable or even effective to the audience is a totally different story. It’s important to see, however, the overt utilization of film to create this reality and the imperialist attempt to culturally colonize the minds of the Filipinos.
The reality presented by the film themed “Japan is not the enemy” is also an attempt at conversion of preference from an American mindset to a Japanese (Asian) one. It is, essentially, a choice for the Filipinos between two imperialists—a position any Filipino should never want to take.
*Lenin, Vladimir. Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism. Progress Publishers. Moscow. 1975
When the Pacific War broke out with the offensives of Japan to the US (Pearl Harbor), it was necessary for Japan to integrate the Philippines within its plans through any means necessary in its attempt to secure hegemony. It saw enculturation vital to the promotion of the myth of “Asians for Asians.”
Imperialist Wars
The concept of war as integral in the development of societies (and the state) in the era of monopoly capitalism is important in looking at art in a manner suitable for any analysis that tends to go beyond the exclusive visuality of film for if we dare go the latter direction, we leave a big chunk of the more definitive query. It, therefore, necessitates a seamless linking of war in the imperialist sense and the cultural product as it is experienced by its consumer. It is also a point of interest to expose the reality that the Japanese propaganda, through the film Dawn of Freedom, intended to create in its intent to realize its imperialist mission.
While Japan had a seemingly noble (not to mention self-initiated) task of liberating the Asian region of the North American-European domination, this task can only be seen as fraudulent and preposterous when viewed from the scheme of the political and the economic implications that the war was all about. Vladimir Lenin in Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism* explains: “on the part of both sides; it was a war for the division of the world, for the partition and repartition of colonies and spheres of influence of finance capital (9).” It is in this context that Philippine cinema is poised to highlight the more overt intentions of propaganda than anything else.
Dawn of Freedom
The film Dawn of Freedom by Abe Yutaka and Gerardo de Leon (1944) is born out of these imperialist wars. The context in which it was formulated accounts for the intense use of attempts at identification with its audience although for whom this identification is intended for is unclear. To crack if the film was created for a Filipino or a Japanese audience is not in the interest of this piece. It is, however, a central interest to ascertain characteristics of the audience that this artwork negotiates with and what it persuades this audience to appreciate. To do that, we look into the themes (or the premise and contradictions of which) of the film.
The film contradicts itself in many levels. The film’s premise is the myth “Asians for Asians.” This regional reference was the guiding policy of the rhetoric used by Japan in translating justification for intra-regional colonization and in general, the war. Because of the previously mentioned, the context is not so much a regional matter of the west versus the east as it is a territorial and economic conflict between two imperialist countries. The film fashions an amicable image of a Japanese soldier which would be entirely outside the realm of reality if you ask any Filipino who was there (fighting or being harassed) during the war.
Bottomline: Preference
These inaccuracies in representation imposed a new type of reality to the audience that Japan intended to root the cultural potential of their quest into. The question of whether this reality was acceptable or even effective to the audience is a totally different story. It’s important to see, however, the overt utilization of film to create this reality and the imperialist attempt to culturally colonize the minds of the Filipinos.
The reality presented by the film themed “Japan is not the enemy” is also an attempt at conversion of preference from an American mindset to a Japanese (Asian) one. It is, essentially, a choice for the Filipinos between two imperialists—a position any Filipino should never want to take.
*Lenin, Vladimir. Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism. Progress Publishers. Moscow. 1975
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