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Bonifacio
onifacio: Ang Unang Pangulo, a historical drama full of passion, plays differently against other films from
different genres for there must be painstaking research involved to portray a realistic depiction of the
grand narrative to the minute details of set design and character mannerisms. Thankfully, the movie
does its job well consistently and even excels in bringing a terrific experience in the cinema. Opening
with the execution by garrotte of the Gomburza (an acronym denoting the surnames of the Filipino
priests Mariano Gomez, José Burgos, and Jacinto Zamora), a grim atmosphere has been laid out through
an enriching interplay of delicate lighting, powerful score and a succinct screenplay, giving the three
priests distinct personalities in just less than ten minutes. With the introductory scene alone, the film
has already set its standards high. The film then brings us to the present-day, in the gymnasium of a
Catholic high school with a typical scene of bullying. A graduating student with altruistic values, as
played by Daniel Padilla, steps in. It promises an interesting storyline of parallel values but as the saying
goes, “promises are meant to broken.” Together with two other students and a curator of a museum
dedicated to Bonifacio, they uncover history through documents, to support the accuracy of the claims
the film presents. They serve not only as unnecessary narrators but also represent the inspired youth
and dedicated historians, as expendable anchors to reality.
The personal and historical highlights can be arranged to three chronological sets of discovery.
Bonifacio’s active involvement in the movement stems from his spirit grown from the seeds left by the
death of the Gomburza, and a fellow nationalist, Dr. Jose Rizal, exemplary enlivened by Jericho Rosales
from line delivery to deft hand gestures. A beautifully lighted meeting between the imprisoned Rizal,
radiating in blue hue, and Bonifacio, in orange, not only intensifies their opposing actions and
philosophies but also foreshadows the first act’s end where Bonifacio steps up as the leader of a new
movement set on a more violent approach to freedom. The endearing cinematography is also
introduced with a uni-directional camera work zooming out from Rizal to a long table filled by intently
listening members of La Liga Filipina, an early protoypical movement that failed to set off, signifying his
influence and magnitude of his intellect. This is contrasted near the end of the act with a circular
directionless round table discussion, stopping with Bonifacio, as he assumes responsibility, gaining
power from the trust of his peers. This kind of camera trail to display the influence of a notable hero is
again used with Aguinaldo prior to the third act as he draws much of his power from influence by his
peers, illustrating a different Aguinaldo that is neither pure good nor demonic evil. The first act
culminates on natural daylight as the Katipunan emerges from the shadows of the caves of Montalban,
where they are not just individual sources of light but now a force to reckon with. Interspersed with this
scene, a digital vector animation of the myth of Bernardo Carpio is played, as an homage to the Filipino
grassroots inspiration of Katipunan and also as a warning for the future Andres to face. The pattern of
light encompassing not the characters’ personas, then progressing to break the monotonous dark
atmosphere is a consistent flawless style, repeated throughout the next two acts, with the second
leading to the iconic Sigaw sa Pugad Lawin (Cry of Pugad Lawin), which wages battles of life and death
and not just mere propaganda for the minds. For the final act, a well-choreographed night ambush, a
quasi-climax that is a Pyrrhic victory in retrospect,
Jaica
gives the necessary energy for the painstakingly emotional yet horrifying death that comes to our hero
whose only mistake is loving too much and being busy in seeking the light amidst the personal agendas
who claim to seek the same. A reverse of the setup on light and dark further emphasizes the dreadful
truth, with the reflection of the light from the moon punctuating the ironic somber ending. The third act
may have ended in the past but its continuation in the present shows the results of the revolution. A
well-illuminated world, as opposed to the foremost gloom in the initial scenes, is a product of the blood-
drenched revolution that is not yet over. Soon after, the narration poses a question and some insights
that would again boil down to the final scene of rising action that takes place in the heart of the
revolution. With the skillful mingling of chiaroscuro as part of its cinematography, fascinating marriage
of screenplay and drama, subtle political machinations and societal factors trapping our forlorn hero,
Bonifacio: Ang Unang Pangulo is a layered tragic love story to the country that will always be relevant in
the age of revisionism. A good metric of this is how it is able to move individuals, people, a nation with
or without the recognition of passion more than a century after offering an incomparable sacrifice.