This is part of a series reviewing local AV productions highlighting the best of Filipino creativity. The director’s latest feature film suggests that perhaps violence is the answer

In the films following Mikhail Red’s debut feature Rekorder (2013), the writer-director has since experimented with other genres, from zombie horror Block Z (2020) to black comedy Dead Kids (2019), thus gaining a reputation as a versatile storyteller as highlighted in a 2020 Esquire feature.

Red also straddles the lines between independent cinema and mainstream productions, as the films he’s worked on have been co-produced with corporate local studios, regional studios, and have the prestige of being some of the first Filipino films distributed worldwide by major streaming services.

It is this year’s Arisaka that sees Red “returning to his roots” inasmuch as it returns to the look, feel, and themes of the movie that put him on the international radar: 2016’s Birdshot, a police procedural featuring two parallel protagonists whose fates intertwine.

The parallels between Birdshot and Arisaka are striking: from the low saturation coloring, which creates an overall mood of bleakness, to the characters, each featuring a morally-conflicted cop in a corrupt institution whose scruples with those “eaten by the system” later affect the lives of rural marginalized children and their families, often with tragic results, which ultimately marks the coming-to-consciousness of once innocent characters.

Red’s films have a notable mastery in terms of technique, from sound design to camerawork, from the score to set design. Each part, without drawing unnecessary attention to itself, delivers to make a whole, which not only makes the film marketable beyond our borders, but also gives audiences enough immersion in the story to focus on the narrative and, in the process, the themes within.

In an age of streaming and shows with multiple seasons, cinema has become the short-form audiovisual entertainment mode. It’s safe to say that in this current era of Philippine cinema, mainstream and independent productions largely pay more attention to technical proficiency as studios invest more and more in state-of-the-art gear.

All of that is good, as I mentioned earlier, there’s more time now to focus—and improve—upon the stories we want to tell, and directors now face the challenge of saying all they want to show in one sitting.

Arisaka, named after the standard-issue Japanese rifle of World War 2, follows Maja Salvador as policewoman Mariano, wounded and on the run, who is helped by Aeta child Nawi, played by Shella Mae Romulado. Mariano’s escape-turned-chase around the mountains retraces the steps of fleeing Filipino soldiers during the Bataan Death March, as Japanese patrols hunted them down.

Eventually, the hunted becomes the hunter, but at great cost, if not to Mariano, then to those around her.
The film is an allegory to the importance of history, suggesting that in an era of cover-ups and silencing of the truth, justice can be found in the relics of the past, if not peacefully, then by taking matters into one’s own hands.

Despite the film’s initial indignation at injustice, it suggests, much like the jaded Ibarra-turned-Simoun in Rizal’s Fili, that we’ve reached a point where cancer has metastasized, and now is not the time of prevention, but surgical precision, guided by the decisiveness of a knife.

There is a Buddhist saying which goes, “when elephants fight, the grass is trampled.” And despite the film’s initial indignation at injustice, it suggests, much like the jaded Ibarra-turned-Simoun in Rizal’s Fili, that we’ve reached a point where cancer has metastasized, and now is not the time of prevention, but surgical precision, guided by the decisiveness of a knife.

This is why the film in its 95-minute run seethes, slowly at first, then guns a-blazing in its final act. It cannot be separated from the current socio-political climate enveloping the Philippines, which may persist well beyond the 2022 elections.

Scenes of outright impunity, dialogue that calls to mind buzzwords and bogeymen from news headlines, and of course, the character of institutions are all alluded to.

Given this climate, most characters, even Salvador’s, are relegated to one-note roles, serving more as mouthpieces. This has its own challenges to play in this narrative context. Only Romulado’s role is given any complexity and she delivers convincingly.

Thus, it is not Mariano, but Nawi, who has to choose between quietism and violence, as historically, from the Philippine Revolution all the way to the American colonial era and well into today, it was always the marginalized who suffer most in the crossfire. World War 2 is a testament to that, as more Filipino citizens died than Japanese or American soldiers in the battles the latter two fought on our soil.

When justice is as elusive as the sun on a monsoon month, should one flee to temporary safety, or take up arms? Surely there are still more than two choices, right?

Rating: 4.3/5

Technique: 5/5

Performances: 5/5

Themes: 3/5

Verdict: While audience and critic reactions have been divided, the film is still a must-watch. It opens discussions on the best way to attain, if not serve, justice.

Arisaka is streaming on Netflix