The film reveals itself not as a reflection of the past, but as a potent critique of the present. (First published in November 2025 in medium.com)
Technical Assessment: 4
Moral Assessment: 3.5
MTRCB Rating: PG 13
CINEMA Rating: V14 (Note: Children are impressionable and might take the film as historical truth without returning to source information; it is best that they watch with an adult or be given a debriefing after.)
The movie revisits Manuel Quezon’s (Jericho Rosales) rise to the presidency, chronicling his political maneuvering during the American period. This includes his standoff with Governor-General Leonard Wood and his intense rivalry with Sergio Osmeña (Sarmienta) and Emilio Aguinaldo (Confiado). He is presented as a charismatic and sociable leader, his image bolstered by a propaganda film produced by his goddaughter, Nadia (Malvar), to aid his candidacy. However, a second, clandestine version of the film is produced by the disillusioned Joven (Villaflor), narrating the manipulations, deceptions, and ethical lines Quezon crossed to secure the Tydings-McDuffie Act and sabotage his rivals. Upon discovering this second version, Quezon merely taunts Joven, suggesting they are both opportunists. The outbreak of the Japanese war provides Quezon an excuse to seek a second term, recanting his promise to Osmeña, only to have his extended rule cut short by tuberculosis, culminating in his defiant cry from the Malinta Tunnel, “I am the Philippines!”
Quezon succeeds as an excellent piece of cinema, providing the right measure of entertainment and awe that compels the viewer to revisit a pivotal historical period. The craftsmanship is commendable: the production design effectively transports the audience to the era without resorting to exaggeration, while the dialogue remains crisp and witty. Jericho Rosales delivers a wonderful and believable performance as the titular figure, and the quiet, simmering exasperation of Romnick Sarmienta’s Osmeña is equally notable. However, a film’s most brilliant stroke is its narrative structure. By employing a non-linear timeline and a movie-within-a-movie treatment, it cleverly disassociates itself from being a mere historical narrative, allowing it to explore its subject with greater artistic freedom.
The film presents a complex moral landscape, anchored on the theme that ambition corrupts, and the end does not justify the means. No matter how noble the cinematic Quezon’s intentions are, his manipulation, deceit, and selfishness are not absolved; it serves as a potent reminder that while politics may be a game, servant-leadership remains the standard. This poses the question: what lines can be crossed to achieve a goal for the common good? It is natural to assume that even if one wants to be honest and upright, there are lines that will eventually be crossed. Yet, the film suggests this is permissible only if certain conditions are met: 1. Truth and integrity are not blurred; 2. The one crossing the line is not themselves corrupted by the act; and 3. The dignity and rights of other people are not violated.
Regarding the recent controversy involving the Quezon family’s reaction, their outburst is understandable — what family would welcome the perceived ruin of a respected ancestor? But this is precisely where the film places the greater responsibility: on the viewer. Critical thinking is paramount. The film is a film, and it must be primarily appraised on its own narrative and artistic merit. It never poses as a biography or a historical documentary and thus should not be taken as such. The onus is on the audience to return to their history lessons to vet the information presented, forcing them to ask: Are we not all opportunists who choose self-preservation and legacy, yet cry injustice when confronted with one who simply does it better? In this, the film reveals itself not as a reflection of the past, but as a potent critique of the present. — PMF
