MIM is a work of ‘genius’

August 14, 2022

It took me ten days to finally decide to go to a movie house and sit through that controversial movie, Maid In Malacanang.

My initial reasons were similar to the reasons of those who adamantly refuse to watch it. Why give attention to this movie at all, why legitimize it and lend it credibility given our preview of what it contains, and, more importantly, why incentivize those behind it by actually paying them with our hard-earned – not, ahem, court-declared ill-gotten – money?

Eventually I decided I had good-enough reasons to watch MIM. I wanted to see for myself what the fuss was about. I also wanted to be able to compare it to Katips, the other movie that showed on the same date and that tackled the activism and atrocities during martial law. That one, I watched with two of my children on opening day.

I wondered, too – isn’t restraining ourselves from watching a movie that may contain things we may not agree with similar to restraining ourselves (or others) from reading a book just because it goes against what we believe in?

I wanted to write about MIM, and I could only do so authoritatively if I actually saw the movie – not read about it, not listened to exchanges about it, not asked those who saw it what they thought of it.

I don’t fancy myself a film critic. I just like watching films and pondering whether they work for me as a viewer, and why they do or don’t. I just appreciate good shots, good music, good dialogue, the momentary escape from my own reality and the opportunity to get swept up in a story. I also recognize that different people respond to stimuli differently, so my reactions and perceptions may not necessarily be shared by others.

One thing is clear: I can certainly see why and how Maid in Malacanang would work for its captive audience – rabid Marcos supporters, and those who are ambivalent about or even indifferent to the various issues raised against this movie.

This is definitely an Imee show, and why not, since she is creative and executive producer. Even Imelda and Ferdinand Senior are portrayed as feeble, indecisive, vulnerable senior citizens, a far cry from the power couple that they were in their heyday. Ferdinand Jr. or Bonget is shown as desperate for his father’s attention and pride in him – something that Imee enjoyed to the hilt, and exclusively. Imee, on the other hand, is a take-charge individual, Daddy’s “darling brilliant girl,” and who ultimately makes the decision that the whole family must pack up and go. (At first I wondered why the title role was singular when there were supposedly three maids – it is a stretch, but it was ultimately revealed that Imee is the maid around which the movie revolved.)

In the end, despite some jarring scenes that I suspect were the director’s attempts to be experimental – that dizzying counterclockwise rotation, top view, of Imelda and Bonget on the bed as she weeps and repeatedly says they would never be able to return to Malacanang and he assuring her they will (the prophetic pair of shoes, IRM 2022, beside her), or that father-son confrontation where Bonget defends his decision to don military fatigues but is shown just as arms and torso – and despite Cristine Reyes’ shrill, irritating voice that may or may not be the actor getting in character, it is plain to see why the movie is a success among the people who have been applauding it even before it showed: It humanizes the Marcoses, makes us voyeurs into what they were like at home, as a family, as employers or amos. It gives us comic relief in some places. It shows a family in crisis, a mighty clan on whom ‘vultures’ were closing in. It is a classic pitting of good versus evil, the good being the “bida” family and the evil, the snakes and opportunists around them.

In true Pinoy entertainment fashion, it tugs at heartstrings by showing someone as a devoted child, a once-mighty man contemplating hid downfall, a woman whose beauty and clout are fast fading, and even loyal house helpers who enjoyed the kindness of their amo.

But there should have been a constantly flashing sign that said: This is a work of fiction. Great liberties were taken with the truth to piece this narrative together. It ignores and oversimplifies many aspects of the story.
For instance: The luxurious life seems to be a given. What did it take for the Marcoses – specifically, what did they do – to achieve this kind of privilege, to have a roomful of gowns and shoes and jewels to be nostalgic about?

Another example: Ferdinand Senior is constantly portrayed as wanting to protect the lives of the people, rejecting suggestions to use force even when the “angry mob” is closing in. But what of the dark days of martial law, when death, torture and disappearances were prevalent? Were the court-mandated payments to thousands of human rights victims not enough proof of such dastardly acts against the people they claim to love?

Yet another point: Loyalty is not an absolute virtue. It could be a vice when used to unconditionally stand by somebody, right or wrong, for reasons of history, association, or debt of gratitude.

If there is one thing the movie got right, it is that people are not one-dimensional. Sure, someone could be a good father or caring “amo,” an affectionate spouse or a decisive sister. This they can do even while also being an incompetent public servant or a corrupt and murderous tyrant. Nobody is saying the Marcoses are bad all the time to all people. Question is, when should it count? What should carry greater weight?

Of course, there are no such flashing signs. Maid in Malacanang makes no distinction between established, corroborated, documented events in history on the one hand, and propaganda on the other. No differentiation was made between words uttered by an authoritative-sounding or popular person, and the inherent truth or untruth of the words being uttered. There was no warning that scenes in the movie may have been just imagined and invented, or based on the recollection of a family so desperate to redeem its name.

And this is the genius of the people behind MIM. They played on Filipinos’ fatal tendency to miss distinctions and differences, and to unconditionally accept whatever it is that appears behind a screen, without asking whether they were true, whose point of view was being presented, or what the people conveying the message stand to gain from the exercise.

This is the same genius at work that made Bonget, shown as aching for Daddy’s approval and constantly overshadowed by his older sister, win the presidency by a landslide. This is the same genius that allowed that family to stage a grand comeback and dare call themselves victims, and that turned Filipinos who should know better to rabid, uncritical defenders who unleash their hate on anyone who dares ask questions or demand evidence of their claims.

The people behind my row at the cinema kept making remarks at numerous points during the movie, validating and reinforcing what the movie was trying to say. “Ganyan pala,” “Ngayon hindi na pwede yang fake news na ganyan,” (referring to reports of international media in ‘86) and many other phrases that nearly made me turn and say “hey, this is their version and this is exactly what they want you to think!”

In the end, MIM was educational for me, not about history, but about human nature. I found myself making a deep sigh when the closing credits were being shown, and while many in the cinema were applauding and taking selfies as if to show proof they’ve seen the movie. How do we make ourselves immune to such subtle manipulation and influence while still keeping our eyes open and engaging with those with whom we don’t agree? How do we help others become more discerning without sounding preachy and without coming off as though we think ourselves superior? How do we make people understand that it is all right to criticize those in power, that is in fact our duty as citizens, and that doing so does not make one an enemy of the state?

I ate a bigger dinner than planned, faced with helplessness at answering these questions.

adellechua@gmail.com