Whatever you think about Trese, it's a good step forward for Filipino culture as a whole

What this komiks-based animated series shows the world about the Philippines, the Filipinos, and their talents

This is part of a series reviewing local AV productions highlighting the best of Filipino creativity. Much has been said about Netflix’s first Filipino animated series, so let’s zoom out to the bigger picture

Since its debut early in June, Filipinos have had a lot to say about Netflix original series Trese, the first Filipino animated series produced by the streaming giant. Set in contemporary Manila, the show reimagines Filipino mythical creatures and deities as denizens of modern life, from monopoly magnates to drag racers to shady gangs.
“There are few places where to acquire magic this strong, but I have friends in low places,” Trese tells a bewildered police captain.

Based on komiks written by Budjette Tan and illustrated by Kajo Baldisimo, Trese features its titular heroine who acts as a warrior-shaman whose job is to maintain the balance between the human and supernatural worlds. The story follows the format of a crime procedural. Aiding her is a team composed of both humans and engkantos.

The series is an international collaboration, as the creative teams feature both foreigners and members of the diaspora, and with studios in Indonesia, Singapore, and the US looped in. Aside from an English, Filipino, and Japanese voice cast, it also has dubs in German, Spanish, and Italian.

Trese premiered in various languages across continents and placed in Netflix rankings in places like Qatar, the UAE, Jamaica, Austria, Bangladesh, Bulgaria, Canada, Estonia, Germany, Kuwait, Lithuania, New Zealand, Nigeria, Oman, Serbia, Singapore, Sri Lanka, the US, and of course, the Philippines.

It has an art style reminiscent of DC spinoff cartoons on Cartoon Network in the late ’90s and early 2000s, albeit with blood and gore, essentially going for an Adult Swim. The action scenes are reminiscent of the melee combat and superpower bolts-and-blasts of Young Justice and similar titles.

That, and that executive producer and director Jay Oliva, actually worked on titles like Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, Teen Titans, Jackie Chan Adventures, and He-man and the Masters of the Universe, to name a few.

The animators liberally deploy stylistic changes to round out Manila’s character, as the painting-like landscapes of the city’s slums, skyline, and streets seamlessly transition into cell-shaded, 3D environments as Trese moves through the metro.

All this is complemented by a wall-of-sound of Manila’s traffic, the MRT’s rumbling, and footsteps of pedestrians at both sweltering noon or with the whiplashing monsoon. That’s all you’ll hear from me, however, about the sound design. I’m not peering down that rabbit hole of the debate on voice acting.

Sometimes a shot of rain lashing against a skyscraper window is as striking as a sequence of the titular heroine hacking down marauding aswang with her anting-anting knife Sinag. Manila is at once a claustrophobic maze and an expansive battlefield.

Despite being a small industry in the Philippines, animation has a worldwide following and audience. But even then, animation as a whole remains a niche sector in an audio visual production scene still chained to dated attitudes that denigrate its merits. Trese’s real enemies aren’t the aswang, but art’s self-imposed gatekeepers.

One thing that’s sure though is that people love a good story, regardless of medium, and Trese’s ratings in the countries cited earlier prove this point. And good stories are often gateway drugs into learning more about particular corners of the world.

I remember how the slick depictions of ramen, agemono and takoyaki in Studio Ghibli and other Japanese animations films eventually led me to start mixing dashi into my sinigang experiments. Or how learning to love K-pop led me to study Korean diplomacy and eventually Korea’s rich heritage as a collection of ancient kingdoms.
From being caricatures borne out of ignorance, the people and cultures inhabiting the stories literally come to life not as others, but as humans we relate to.

Much has been said about Trese: Debates range on voice acting and actor choices, academics and enthusiasts alike have pointed out the socio politics as well as gender politics of the series, and fanart and memes continue to inundate timelines.

Trese’s real enemies aren’t the aswang, but art’s self-imposed gatekeepers.

One thing is certain, however, Trese is a step forward in the right direction for Filipino animation and creativity as a whole, as it creates, with hope, the market demand, which makes sure future creatives, from writers to artists to voice talents, don’t need to hold down day jobs.

But more than that, Trese is a step forward in the right direction for worldwide storytelling, as it puts Philippine culture, mythology, and people on the wider stage, in the wider conversation and, for once, not just as victims of another calamity natural or man-made, but of something more magical.