This page analyzes the cultural impact of the film and the director's approach in creating the film.
This page analyzes the cultural impact of the film and the director's approach in creating the film.
When Ferdinand Marcos Sr. declared Martial law in 1972, all aspects of mass media – including film – were subjected to political censorship. Thus, it was the worst period for the media and film industries.
The Department of Public Information created by Marcos silenced and controlled the media, with the number of newspapers slashed to two from 18. Marcos also issued the Letter of Instruction No. 13 in 1972, which banned the following films from being publicly exhibited in any theater in the country:
(1) Films which tend to incite subversion, insurrection or rebellion against the State;
(2) Films which tend to undermine the faith and confidence of the people in their government and/or duly constituted authorities;
(3) Films which glorify criminals or condone crimes;
(4) Films which serve no other purpose but to satisfy the market for violence or pornography;
(5) Films which offend any race or religion;
(6) Films which tend to abet the traffic in and use of prohibited drugs;
(7) Films contrary to law, public order, morals, good customs, established policies, lawful orders, decrees or edicts; and any or all films which in the judgment of the Board are similarly objectionable and contrary to the letter and spirit of Proclamation No. 1081.
Any violation of this Order shall mean the outright cancellation, withdrawal, and revocation of the permits of the films, the closure of the theatre or theatres involved, as well as the arrest and prosecution of any persons concerned. In the implementation hereof, you shall coordinate with the Department of National Defense and other proper agencies of the government.
However, it was due to this constraint that the martial law era became also the “best of times” for cinema. It was the flowering of cinema “realism” as directors and scriptwriters challenged themselves to depict life under martial law, during the 1970s, while trying to stay away from the clutches of the censors. Filmmakers made this possible through the use of symbolisms as seen in several movies produced during the height of Martial Law.
This video features legendary director Lino Brocka and others including Ishmael Bernal, Bembol Roco, Marilou Diaz-Abaya and other Philippine cinema workers in protest against Marcos Film Censorship in 1983.
Photo: Maynila, Sa Mga Kuko Ng Liwanag. Directed by Lino Brocka, Cinema Artists Philippines, 1975.
After the declaration of Martial Law in 1972, Philippine cinema flourished despite – and because of – the oppression and extreme censorship of mass media and the arts under the Marcos regime. This film has successfully depicted social realities during this period. Seen as the “land of opportunities” by the provincials, Manila, through this film was shown as a corrupt city where injustice is a part of day-to-day life.
Decades after its release, this film is still hailed as “One of the Greatest Films” created in the history of Philippine cinema. Evidently, it was given awards locally and internationally and was also recognized by different filmmakers abroad. Today, this film continues to educate Filipinos, especially students who were not able to live and see this part of Philippine history.
Photo: Maynila: Sa Mga Kuko Ng Liwanag, the Musical (2017)
The musical will serve as a tribute to the late National Artist for Film, Lino Brocka, who directed the 1975 film.
Image source: https://cdn1.clickthecity.com/images/articles/content/5992a4186e9e10.08898130.jpg
This musical adaptation of the Lino Brocka classic Maynila Sa Mga Kuko Ng Liwanag can be considered a timely and relevant reminder from Filipino theater artists about the situation of the country.
Image Source: http://images.summitmedia-digital.com/esquiremagph/images/2021/04/15/Esquire_Lino-Brocka-main.jpg
Catalino Ortiz Brocka, more popularly known as Lino Brocka, was a Filipino film director and was considered as one of the greatest film and stage directors the country has ever produced. After his death in a car accident in 1991, he was posthumously given the National Artist of the Philippines for Film award for "having made significant contributions to the development of Philippine arts."
The eccentric director Lino Brocka, known for his realist and sensual works that have been met with wide critical acclaim, delivers the masterpiece that is “Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag” (Manila in the Claws of the Light) with themes that serve as an eye-opener to the real plight of, and the growing oppression against, the lower social classes in a macho-feudal, Marcos-driven Philippine society. This approach of his serves both radical and personal reasons, as Brocka himself is openly gay—a notion that is in itself subversive to the largely patriarchal status quo, which will be dealt with later on—and is outspokenly political, as people will soon find him joining anti-government rallies to protest the blatant censorship of Philippine cinema and founding an organization driven to fight against such censorship, and ultimately, for the revival of democratic spaces for Philippine film.
Brocka’s radical approach to film serves as what can be called a ‘virtual microcosm’ of Philippine society; an explicit theme that is explored in all of his works but one: his debut film based on The Sound of Music, Wanted: Perfect Mother (1970). In Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975), Brocka treads on the impoverished cityscapes of Manila and explores it to its full depth; revealing the city’s underground horrors and the ‘real darkness within.’ Contrary to popular belief at the time, Manila did not guarantee success stories, nor promise a good life; it was not equivalent to the Philippine version of the ‘American dream.’ The ultimate reality, however harsh it may be, is that Manila is ugly, filthy, and unpromising—in both the literal and figurative sense of the word. As the title of the film likes to convey, at surface value, a human’s nails (kuko) may look clean, neat, or even polished with a certain color, but when viewed before a source of light (liwanag), one can immediately see through the filth underneath.
Screenshots from the film, Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975)
Screenshot from the film, Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975)
Screenshot from the film, Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975)
The way Brocka approaches Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975), which likewise prevails in his succeeding works, is to lay out a juxtaposition of sorts: of beauty and the ugly; of light and dark; of good and the bad. He starts off with a premise that shows the ‘good’; then, he gradually transitions into a contrasting surface-level generic theme that, when explored to the depths later on, has all these underlying themes that showcase the deep-seated and otherwise harsh reality of the status quo.
In Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975), Brocka starts off the film with different angled shots to showcase the busyness that is the city of Manila: people are seen setting up their shops and stores, preparing to go about their day; there are cars and all types of vehicles honking and revving up their engines; the usual clicks and clacks of people’s shoes on the sidewalk can be heard; the typical Filipino-style gossip and banter along the streets are apparent in this time of day, and so on. Brocka uses both audio and visual to capture such an approach. Later on, Brocka gradually introduces and lays out poverty and the desire to break free from its chains as a contrast. An eye-opener to the socioeconomic conditions of the Ordinary Filipino under the Marcos dictatorship, this (poverty) is the film’s generic theme: a naive probinsyano migrates to the city, tries to locate the whereabouts of his girlfriend who previously went to the city in search of a good life, realizes the city is not what everybody else said and thought it would be, and tries to survive amidst all that busyness and chaos. Immediately, the probinsyano is introduced to the plight of the urban poor and becomes part of it himself. Then, Brocka further explores the underlying themes through the later discoveries of his main character, the probinsyano named Julio, as the latter’s goals and motives of locating his girlfriend’s whereabouts are immediately replaced by the need, desire, and struggle to survive. This is where rural-urban migration, prostitution, homosexuality via underground male brothels, a kapit sa patalim mentality, crime, abuse of power, and the collusion of social classes, all motivated by the need to meet one’s daily subsistence, come to the spotlight; all of such themes shall be explored in their own right later on.
Another explicit example that perfectly encapsulates this so-called ‘juxtaposition’ in Brocka’s approach to said film is his sudden, inserted close-up montage shots showcasing the idyllic beauty of Julio’s lover, Ligaya, that go back and forth with Julio in reel time: a juxtaposition of a beautiful paradise in the person of Ligaya and the horrid conditions faced by Julio in the city that is Manila.
In one of his early interviews, Brocka revealed that he used to think of film and/or cinema in general as something akin to a mirror: an object that reflects reality exactly as it is (Gutierrez, 2016). When he was incarcerated after the Marcos government declared his works as ‘subversive’ and accused him of instigating one particular radical protest, his views immediately changed because of such experience. Thereafter, he declared that cinema is “a mirror that confronts the people with the reality of their human condition, and this reality is (his) responsibility as director to show on screen” (Del Carmen, 1983, p. 29; Gutierrez III, 2016). To note further, in his 1985 Ramon Magsaysay Award for Journalism, Literature, and Creative Communication Arts acceptance speech, Brocka talked about the innate responsibilities of a filmmaker as an artist, where he said:
“The filmmaker, like his peers in the other media, now realizes that the artist is also a public person. He no longer isolates himself from society. Instead of working in his ivory tower, he is a citizen of the slums, of the streets, of the battlefields if need be. The artist is becoming a participant. He tries to be true, not only to his craft but also to himself. . . . To the best of our abilities, and even if we oftentimes fail, we must produce films that will hurt, films that will disturb, films that will not let you rest. For the times are bad and, given times like these, it is a crime to rest. . . . Although it is the duty of the artist to work for what is true, good and beautiful, first we must expose and fight what is wrong (Hernando, 1993, p. 205; Gutierrez, 2016).
Brocka’s explicit mentioning of the phrase “true, good, and beautiful” that was popularized and even enacted as a policy for artistic expression by no other than Imelda Marcos who, true to word, prides herself as the ‘beauty’ of the dictatorial duo, serves as a hint of attack to the status quo, with the dictatorial duo trying to conceal all the ugliness, oppression, lies, and the overall dark state of Philippine society by ways of silencing and social control. Hence, there prevails a need to counter such efforts of concealing by revealing reality exactly as it is, and it is through Lino Brocka that we see independent art forms as in films break the surface and come into the spotlight to “hurt,” “disturb,” and “not let (people) rest.” Alas, film as “a mirror that confronts people with the reality of their human condition.” Alas, film as an art of protest!
Brocka contends further that "art is an imitation of life so an artist must try to imitate life... but art is not just imitating, it is also trying to confront people with certain realities.... the screen becomes not just a mirror that reflects but a mirror that confronts"' (Santiago, 1993). Brocka is a leading artist of the New Cinema in the Philippines and the most prolific filmmaker among those whose works chronicle the underprivileged and oppressed in Filipino society. Through this film, he successfully depicted social realities in Philippine society. For instance, in the making of this film, Brocka made sure that the characters would not be in the scenes just for the sake of acting. He wants the actors to be as natural as possible; hence, he deliberately chose not to hire any experienced actors as background extras in the film but rather used actual slum dwellers residing in the location upon shooting.
To note further, a 1975 documentary on Brocka’s Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag by Filipino screenwriter Clodualdo Del Mundo, Jr. revealed how Brocka deliberately chose to include the explicit student demonstrations scene in the later part of said film. Brocka revealed that he wanted the film to be “authentic” and “realistic,” and called on the Board of Censors to understand why he chose to include such demonstrations, to wit: “I do hope that the Board of Censors, when they see this, would see the point of why these things were used, because as I said, we’re trying to make a realistic movie.”
Lino Brocka's inclusion of explicit student demonstrations in the film
Lino Brocka's take on not hiring actors to be extras in the scenes of the film
Screenshot from the film, Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975)
Screenshot from the film, Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975)
The one final thing that sets Brocka apart from his peers is his trademark homosexual theme prevalent in most of his works. In Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975), this thematic approach starts off subtle: with Julio, the main character, seen mostly half-naked early on in the movie; a nod to the queer gaze (see in contrast: male gaze). Later on, this would materialize into major plot points: Julio seeking the help of a queer man and joining an underground male brothel to sell his body for money. While this may be seen only as one of the film’s underlying themes from the greater, umbrella theme that is poverty and the plight of the masses, homosexuality, in that particular era, is a subversion, and hence, an antithesis to a male-dominated, macho-feudal society with a dictatorial ‘iron-fist-presenting’ man seated at the top of power. The use of such subversive theme at the time therefore serves as a direct response to the patriarchal nature of the dictatorship itself.
In the 70s, homosexuality was not as widely accepted (or tolerated) as it is now; hence, a queer film in mainstream media proves to be of radical value and an explicit attempt to disrupt the established patriarchy. This is seen not only in how the film presents itself to its vast array of audiences, but also in how said film brings about mainstream discussions that, albeit centered on demonizing the subversive nature of the film, are still important discussions that publicize the queer struggle to the mainstream audience—negative public response is still publicity, after all. With more and more discussions on such theme, coupled with the emergence of more queer films and the notion of a queer cinema later on due in part to Lino Brocka, the patriarchy is shaken significantly, and the dictatorship of Marcos is considerably attacked on all fronts. Queerness is rooted in activism and politics, after all.
Brocka’s trademark homosexual theme not only deviates from the traditional, heteronormative approaches to film, but also introduces the largely conservative 70s to the notion of queer theory and politics, which shall be of great significance to the Philippine political climate in the future. Queer entertainment shows like Drag Den that provide representation for queer-identifying individuals and publicize the art and politics of drag may have never seen the light of day in the conservative climate of the Philippines, if not through the significant strides of queer individuals; Brocka and his queer approach to film, for one.
True enough, if there is anything that can be called a ‘golden age’ in the Martial Law era, it is not its economy nor the prevailing infrastructure. It is not in its architecture; not even in its obvious state of politics. It is in its literature, for the literature of myth-making by the Marcoses and the literature of protest by the Filipino people both thrived, one after the other. Now, it is up to us to decide on whichever of the two shall prevail.
Knowing that the film was made during the Martial Law era, the storyline of the movie was an eye-opener especially for our generation who weren’t able to experience this part of Philippine history. Based on our prior knowledge regarding the lives of the Filipinos during Martial law, the scenes in the film were very believable and thought-provoking. It properly showed how the people in the province viewed Manila as a realm filled with infinite possibilities.
The plot of the film highlighted the loss of innocence of two young provincials or probinsyanos; one, in search of work and money to help her family in the province, and the other one, in search of lost love. This part of the plot was very realistic especially during Martial Law where the country experienced severe economic downturn and social and political unrest. It is an honest look at third world poverty, and the desperation that causes people to do things that they might not do otherwise, in order to survive. One of the film's most harrowing scenes features a scared and sickened Julio, lured into working at a male prostitution house.
Screenshot from the film, Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975)
Screenshot from the film, Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975)
Screenshot from the film, Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975)
The setting of the film was very helpful for the viewers to feel the real situation of the characters. The emphasis of Calle Misericordia, named after the Confraternidad del la Santa Misericordia, a religious charitable institution (now, Tomás Mapúa Street in Sta Cruz, Manila) and Ongpin Street named for Román Ongpin, a successful and innovative businessman who funded the Katipunan, a revolutionary Filipino group that fueled the Philippine Revolution that overthrew 333 years of Spanish colonial rule in 1898, particularly in the opening shot gives an impression for the viewers that this street sign has great significance to the film. True enough, this intersection plays an important symbolic role particularly with symbolism pertinent to the history and political climate of the Philippines.
We see Julio at the crossroads of Misericordia and Ongpin in several shots across the running time of the film and these streets symbolize pity and revolt. Pity is the feeling of sorrow inspired by the suffering of others (and at times, as in self-pity, inspired by one’s own suffering), and revolt is the act of rebellion against political encumbrance, against a regime deemed unjust that must be destroyed in the cause of liberation. At one point, Brocka ensures that the street signs are blatantly apparent; Julio is actually leaning against the post, with the signs looming over his head as he stares disconsolately toward the building that he believes imprisons his lost love. Pity and revolt are seen as the two possible paths that Julio might follow in his attempt to reconnect with Ligaya. In portraying Julio embedded in Manila’s geography, the film provides a cartography of the decision he must make. But the symbolic import of these signs reaches farther into the depths of the film’s meaning.
This film was clearly made to educate and bring awareness to the Filipinos. In a 1983 TV documentary for British television on the state of Philippine cinema, Brocka particularly said that he wanted to make movies for the students and he wants it when teachers assign students to make papers about his films. Though criticism of the Marcos regime is not explicitly stated in this film, it does not have to be. It's implicit in how so many of the people Julio comes across are mistreated.
14:40- 17:30 of this video shows Brocka stating that he wanted to make movies for the students
Screenshot from the film, Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975)
Screenshot from the film, Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975)
The opening shots of the film were still shots of a black and white Manila, first in its quiet state, then gradually turning into a crowded, busy city. A raw state of the city was shown where only the sound from the actual scene can be heard. This establishes the reality of Manila and shows the evident sense of realism by the director. Color comes in when Julio Madiaga was shown in the scene, which sets the tone for the whole film. There are also sudden inserted close-up shots that showcase the idyllic beauty of Julio’s lover, Ligaya: a juxtaposition of a beautiful paradise in the person of Ligaya and the horrid conditions faced by Julio in the city that is Manila
The final shots where Julio is cowering at the bottom of a dead-end alley are a series of voluptuous images captured raw and honest. At times, he shoots the film similarly to a documentary, heightening the realism of the subject matter. Mike de Leon beautifully captured the hectic street life of Manila all throughout the film.
References:
de Jesus, Totel. “Brocka’s ‘Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag’ among world’s greatest films.” ABS CBN News, 18 April 2018, https://news.abs-cbn.com/entertainment/04/18/18/brockas-maynila-sa-mga-kuko-ng-liwanag-among-worlds-greatest-films
Gutierrez III, Jose. “Lukács, Kracauer, and Lino Brocka’s Manila in the Claws of Light.” A Review. Plaridel, Vol. 13 No. 2. (2016).
Hernando, Mario A. (Ed.). “Lino Brocka: The artist and his times.” (1993). Manila: Cultural Center of the Philippines.
Jenkins, Chadwick, et al. “At the Crossroads of Pity and Revolt: Intensity and Time in Lino Brocka's 'Manila in the Claws of Light', PopMatters.” PopMatters, 16 Nov. 2018, https://www.popmatters.com/manila-in-claws-light-brocka-2611203738.html.
“Letter of Instruction No. 13, S. 1972: GOVPH.” Official Gazette of the Republic of the Philippines, 29 Sept. 1972, https://www.officialgazette.gov.ph/1972/09/29/letter-of-instruction-no-13-s-1972/