Lav Diaz From the Festival to the Philippines: Between Global and Local Identities
“I’m not hoping to see that day, but I know that my cinema will reach [Filipinos]. I know that they will embrace it one day. It will happen. I’m very sure of that. I still have faith in cinema. I still believe it can affect change. I have faith in cinema. It’s my fucking church.”
- Lav Diaz in an interview with Guernica
Introduction
Against all odds Lav Diaz sees his work as intimately connected to Filipino culture. He works outside of the Philippines studio system. He is dedicated to a slow and meandering style, with takes lasting minutes and films lasting over four hours. His works primarily are shown in European festivals, art-house theaters, and occasionally Filipino universities. The work of Lav Diaz is powerful, but on the surface it is so disconnected from Filipino culture. The surface is only one aspect. There is in fact a deep connection that Lav Diaz’s films have with the cinematic history of the Philippines. Investigating the history and developments of Filipino cinema and the details of Diaz’s filmmaking beyond their length will reveal that connection.
Key developments in digital technology are central to Diaz’s work and the burgeoning independent film scene of Southeast Asia. Both production and distribution are changing through digital and Diaz is a part of that change. Theatrical screening in the Philippines has never been easy and the averse nature of Diaz’s lengthy films continues with that unofficial tradition. As Diaz continues on a path against mainstream systems he has managed to attract mainstream interest. Stars have crossed from their traditional fare into the extreme duration of Diaz and brought media attention along with them. Diaz is not a man who is pandering to the tastes of Western art houses and festivals. His films painstakingly chronicle Filipino struggle in the hope of political remembrance. Their slow aesthetics and production are not deviances from Filipino identity, but the hope to forge one outside of the capitalist mainstream.
Digital and the Piracy Generation
Lav Diaz does not work in the mainstream movies of the Philippines. Instead he fits in with the rough amalgam of Philippine New Wave that began in the early 2000s. Less an aesthetic assemblage, this wave is a disparate group of filmmakers working around the same time. Khavn de la Cruz says “that the singular trait of Philippine cinema is that it doesn’t have a singular trait.” If any common factor exists among these filmmakers it is the use of digital cinema. “Due to the unprecedented growth of digital cinema in [Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, and Thailand],” Eloisa May P. Hernandez finds that “emerging modes of production and distribution have begun to take shape.” Among the Philippine New Wave, styles range incredibly but the directors are all working with digital. These modes go from Diaz’s lengthy epics to Khavn de la Cruz’s rapid-fire internet aesthetic, and all of them diverge from the traditional Filipino cinema of melodrama, romance, and comedies. Digital’s low cost has allowed filmmakers to escape constraints of studios and forge their own vision. Since Diaz’s 2004 feature Evolution of a Filipino Family all of his works have been filmed digitally.
Lav Diaz is taking distinct advantage of digital. The sheer cost of film made completing Evolution impossible without turning to digital. Diaz’s lengthy shots and films would be considerably more expensive if shot on film. Shots are no longer guided simply by the amount of film. Commitment to slow and long shots serves as a reminder to the freedom digital has offered Southeast Asian filmmakers. Some who use digital opt for a lo-fi aesthetic with handheld movements and low image quality. Tilman Baumgärtel warns against this reliance as it may lower standards of audiences local and global. Another filmmaker retorts that “digital video now encompasses several formats” and that includes Diaz. His works use high quality digital camera and produce beautiful compositions. Digital is in good hands with Lav. He is not limited by constraints of film’s cost and does not hold himself to the negative connotations of digital filmmaking. The convergence of cost-efficiency and experimentation is evident in Diaz’s work. While the slow cinema movement garners admiration especially in the West, Diaz’s use of slowness is not only connected to that western audience. It finds inspiration in the Philippines and the emergence of digital technology there.
Now digital has even become part of the mainstream. “Studios have begun creating smaller sub-labels, which co-opt young filmmakers into producing cheap films,” Alexis Tioseco laments “often of the the exploitation variety.” Diaz’s films have even become distributed and funded in part by Filipino groups. From What Is Before was funded in part by the Film Development Council of the Philippines. Despite deviance from the studios traditional method and style of filmmaking, the digital new wave has partially been accepted into the fold of popular cinema. Digital is not only an alternative to the popular, but has found its acceptance into Filipino popular culture. Albeit, it is still in smaller spaces, but it is there. The Philippine new wave and Lav Diaz is not something only consumed by Western audiences, seeking to experience an exotic new film locale, but its own emerging part of Filipino local cinema.
Another aspect of this digital boom is piracy. “Both [new independent cinema of Southeast Asia and piracy] rely on the recent proliferation of relatively inexpensive digital tools: cameras, the Internet, and fast disc-burners that allow for the mass production of DVDs and VCDs.” Technological growth that brought digital filmmaking also brought piracy. Piracy has become an almost integral part of the film-watching experience in the Philippines and Southeast Asia. A huge amount of films can be found pirated on DVDs. Anything from mainstream releases to local films and even rare art cinema. A newly common form is the multi-pack pirated DVD, with up to 8 films found on one disc. This development that would fit incredibly well with Diaz’s 4+ hour films. Independent distribution through pirate networks is not a mainstream method, but it isn’t unheard of either. Director John Torres details his attempts at distributing his films through pirates and many directors sell their own DVDs. Diaz wholeheartedly supports this movement. His work has found regular distribution, but piracy functions for him is the same as independent cinema. It’s an avenue to cast off the capitalist intentions of mainstream cinema and find a culture more distinctly Filipino.
With these rebellious production attitudes the new wave does not find easy acceptance in the studio-dominated system of the Philippines. Independent filmmakers and producers must look to the art-house scene as a means of funding their works. While this may seem to be a rejection of their popular culture it ignores the origins of the mainstream Filipino film industry. The profit-directed system, with its hope for blockbusters and penchant for political censorship, comes not from within, but from the Hollywood system. Decades of colonization by the United States is a key factor. “When global corporate capitalism bombards Third World denizens relentlessly with American entertainment,” says José B. Capino “it becomes impossible to clear the impressions the latter makes from the visual field of local culture.” The Filipino local studios could only see to combat this American style with its own imitation. “Because the survival of local films is premised upon fierce competition from foreign releases,” remarks Capino “their relationship must not only be one of radical difference but also of fundamental similarity.” Mainstream Philippine Cinema is constructed not with itself in mind, but with Western competition.
Digital has allowed Filipinos to escape this system. Aesthetics can develop that actually reflect Filipino life. Extreme duration may in fact be reflective of Filipino life. “I have developed my aesthetic framework around the idea that we Filipinos are governed by nature,” Lav Diaz proclaims “the concept of time was introduced to us when the Spaniards came. We had to do oracion at six o’clock, start work at seven. Before it was free, it was Malay.” What is often taken for granted in filmmaking is the standard length of 90 to 120 minutes. “Who is to say that cinema hasn’t evolved enough in the past ninety years,” asks Alexis Tioseco “so as to dismiss radical changes in the utilization of the medium?” Diaz attacks that norm and its origins in capitalism. Abandoning the mainstream gives Filipino filmmakers the ability to explore form and content that is uniquely Filipino and not governed by taste and style from capitalist guidelines. Despite a dependence on European funding, it can be more based on Filipino life than high grossing comedies and action flics.
Difficulty of Screening
Eleven hour films are not attractive for theatrical screenings, Western or Philippine. Films longer than three hours even have trouble. The length means forgoing other films. The longer a Diaz film, the more blocks of programming it takes up. A theater would rather program more films for their audience. The same even can apply to festivals. A festival-goer would rather attend more limited screenings than spend a day with only one film. Traditional screening does not favor Lav Diaz. This untenability is not something that only distances Diaz from Philippine cinema, but most theatrical venues. The exile is not a rebellion against the Filipino audience, but against the norms of theatrical screening. As this stands length serves not only an aesthetic purpose, but a functional one. Deliberately forcing himself out of the theatre Diaz makes his audience find alternative methods of viewing. Art house and university theaters are often the only ways to see Diaz’s work on a regular basis. This encourages abandonment of the traditional theater system, which is often controlled by profit motive or even simply controlled by the studios.
Screening issues have precedent in the Philippines though. Diaz is not unique, but part of an embattled history of dealing with the norms of theater screening. A controversial segment of Filipino cinema is the bombas. They are cheaply made erotic films. Consistently they face scrutiny regarding their content. Hardcore scenes were excised from the films before they could be screened. Or worse the films would simply be banned from theaters. To satisfy lusting audiences renegades would “put them back in or run them at the end of the movie,” Jose Lacaba remembers “all the outtakes, the cut scenes.” Inevitably this lead to police raids on theaters and bribery. A push and pull between those wishing to screen and those wishing to censor. Diaz has yet to dabble in hardcore pornography, but these battles echo his work. While his content differs the history of screening issues is not foreign to the Philippines. Extreme duration for Diaz and sexual content for the bombas are both non-mainstream films looking for their place in theaters.
Porn was not the only reason for films to be pulled from screenings. Marcos’ Martial Law period commanded extreme scrutiny over film content. Lino Brocka is an icon of fighting against Marcos-era policies and censorship, but this often meant his works were not screened in his home of the Philippines. Marcos even took measures to stop screenings from abroad. Brocka’s first Cannes showing of Jaguar was almost stopped, and had to be smuggled out in an uncut version. Rules have been relaxed, but Rodrigo Duterte impresses the specter of Marcos and Martial Law and Marcos is still beloved by many. Diaz and his work are extremely critical Marcos and of Duterte. Both Melancholia and Death in the Land of Encantos were banned in the Philippines. Studios and theaters with good relationships with the government are not keen to screen slow epics that critique their relationships. Screening and non-mainstream films in the Philippines exist in a push and pull.
As Diaz grows more popular on the international scene his reputation has increased in the Philippines. This has lead to modest distribution in theaters. One aspect this signifies is that Diaz’s festival popularity has made his work economically viable. It also gives hope to Diaz’s sentiments of Filipino understanding of his durational films. Diaz has never been strict about viewing, encouraging breaks or distractions, but always staying committed to long takes and films. He proposed that Norte be released as two parts as well as a whole film in theaters so that “people have the choice.” Instead of editing works into the length of mainstream cinema, or making more palatable films Diaz has simply ‘waited it out.’ “But if you cannot sit through ten hours this time,” he says “I will wait for you. We cannot rush. Filipinos have been watching the paradigm given by Hollywood and the industry for almost 100 years.”
Lav Diaz and Actors
Diaz’s entrance into a wedge of the mainstream wasn’t only festival wins. Several notable stars of Filipino local productions have featured in his latest films. Starting with Norte, the End of History’s lead, Sid Lucero, Diaz began casting notable actors. Since then John Lloyd Cruz and Piolo Pascual, two of the Philippine’s biggest names right now, have starred in multiple films. Of particular gossip news is the casting of both Piolo and starlet Shaina Magdayo in Season of the Devil and The Halt. The couple have consistently been rumored to be dating, with answers from either actor confirming and confusing in the same breadth. An even larger name is Charos Santos-Concio starring in The Woman Who Left. She is a popular actress, host, board member, and former CEO of ABS-CBN, the largest television network in the Philippines. After a hiatus from acting to do more administrative work she returned with Diaz’s film. Other names too have popped up in his films like Angel Aquino and Cherie Gil. These names aren’t limited to Diaz, Pascual and Cruz have starred in films by independent director Erik Matti. Matti though still works within a 90 to 120 minutes understanding of length. Diaz is a stark departure in content and form for stars who normally have done soap operas on television and romantic comedies on film.
Despite accusations of abandoning popular culture, popular culture has come to Diaz. This flow of movie and TV stars is a proving ground for Diaz’s style and message. Stars aren’t indicative of the entire Philippine populace, but they can signal a changing tide. Exposure also grows, as gossip and mainstream news sites become interested in Lav Diaz as a result of their interest in acting gossip. Interviews with Piolo Pascual and John Lloyd Cruz now always mention Diaz. Pascual has claimed that he “doesn’t want to do teleseryes anymore” instead focusing on more serious film work. Lav Diaz stands out as his biggest collaborator. News sites now review recent releases from Lav. The public eye has turned towards Diaz in both media and actors.
Pop culture integration is only a small part of Diaz’s work, but it illuminates a persistence that is unique in Diaz. The obstacles of this integration may even prove that Diaz’s hope for local consumption is coming true sooner than he expected. While still attending festivals and winning western awards, the growth of acceptance has been more drastic in the Philippines. Diaz’s slow cinema may remain in festivals and art-house theaters, but it is not anything new there. In the Philippines though, as stars and the media embrace him slowly, change may come to filmgoing habits and a new style will be accepted.
Conclusion
Lav Diaz’ abandonment of the traditional capitalist production and distribution of the Philippines is indicative of the stories he tells. His films are often striking re-enactments of dark times in Philippine history, from Lullaby to Sorrowful Mystery’s Andres Bonifacio/Jose Rizal to Marcos-era struggle with Season of the Devil and From What is Before. Diaz builds from personal stories and history he is able learn from fellow countrymen. The real-time trauma is Diaz’s hope of his audience not forgetting the struggles. Surface-level qualities of Diaz’s films seem to relate more to Western cinematic tastes. This is a shallow analysis though. It ignores the rising tide of digital filmmaking, freed from profit concerns. Challenges of screening work in the Philippines is nothing new. Diaz’s difficulties are rejections of normative beliefs of cinema. Despite these challenges Diaz has pressed forward, and made surprising inroads. Limited theatrical screenings exist and more powerfully is his attraction of film and TV stars. Filipino eyes are turning to Diaz more than ever now. He commands a filmography that subverts mainstream systems and investigates histories of Filipino struggle in order to one day free the Philippines from its shackles of colonialism and capitalism.
Bibliography
Afinidad-Bernardo, Deni Rose M. “In Photos: Rumored Lovers Piolo Pascual, Shaina Magdayao at Cannes Film Festival 2019.” philstar.com. The Philippine Star, May 27, 2019. https://www.philstar.com/entertainment/2019/05/27/1921325/photos-rumored-lovers-piolo-pascual-shaina-magdayao-cannes-film-festival-2019.
Baumgärtel, Tilman. “The Downside of Digital.” In Southeast Asian Independent Cinema, 141–49. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2012.
Baumgärtel, Tilman. “‘Digital Is Liberation Theology’ Interview with Lav Diaz.” In Southeast Asian Independent Cinema , 171–78. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2012.
Baumgärtel, Tilman. “The Piracy Generation: Media Piracy and Independent Films in Southeast Asia.” In Glimpses of Freedom, 195–207. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University, 2012.
Capino, José B. “Philippine Cinema’s Fatal Attraction.” In Dream Factories of a Former Colony: American Fantasies, Philippine Cinema, 199–233. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2010.
Cruz, Khavn de la. “Philippine New Wave: Home-Grown, All-Natural, No Preservatives Added.” Philippine Daily Inquirer, June 21, 2012. https://entertainment.inquirer.net/45877/philippine-new-wave-home-grown-all-natural-no-preservatives-added.
Guarneri, Michael. “Militant Elegy: A Conversation with Lav Diaz.” La Furia Umana, July 7, 2013. http://www.lafuriaumana.it/index.php/29-archive/lfu-17/16-michael-guarneri-militant-elegy-a-conversation-with-lav-diaz.
Guarneri, Michael. “The Burden of History: A Conversation with Lav Diaz.” La Furia Umana, August 8, 2014. http://www.lafuriaumana.it/?id=243.
Guarneri, Michael. “Lav Diaz No Forgiveness Without Justice.” Lav Diaz (2017). Debordements, July 23, 2017. https://www.debordements.fr/Lav-Diaz-2017.
Hernandez, Eloisa May P. “The Beginnings of Digital Cinema in Southeast Asia.” In Glimpses of Freedom, 223–36. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University, 2012.
Mai, Nadin. “Lav Diaz: Slow Burn.” Guernica, October 23, 2016. https://www.guernicamag.com/slow-burn/.
“Piolo Pascual Doesn’t Want to Do Teleseryes Anymore.” ABS-CBN News. ABS-CBN, March 19, 2019. https://news.abs-cbn.com/entertainment/03/19/19/piolo-pascual-doesnt-want-to-do-teleseryes-anymore.
Server, Lee. “Philippines.” In Asian Pop Cinema, 101–15. San Fransisco, CA: Chronicle Books, 1999.
Tioseco, Alexis. “Evolution of a Filipino Film.” Ekran, Magazine for Film and Television, 2005. http://ulan-shiela.blogspot.com/2008/01/ebolusyon-ng-isang-pamilyang-pilipino_12.html.
Tioseco, Alexis. “Like the Body and the Soul: Independence and Aesthetics in Contemporary Philippine Cinema.” In Glimpses of Freedom, 183–93. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University, 2012.
Torres, John. “Piracy Boom Boom.” In Glimpses of Freedom, 63–72. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University, 2012.
Wee, Brandon. “The Decade of Living Dangerously: A Chronicle from Lav Diaz.” Senses of Cinema, December 15, 2010. http://sensesofcinema.com/2005/filipino-cinema/lav_diaz/.
