A Review of 'Waray in the City'

Last Saturday, my friend and I went to see the documentary Waray in the City upon the invitation of its director, Noriel Jarito (Rindido, Ba’t Man). We were already running late; I was coming from Los Baños, Laguna and my friend was coming from the faraway land of Caloocan, and the screening was scheduled to start at 10:30 am. When we got there at around 11, however, it seemed like there was no event although there were five or six other people inside the cinema of College of St. Benilde. We did not see any organizers in the venue or even posters. But after a few more minutes, when my stomach began to make noise for food, a staff arrived to operate the DVD player.

Waray in the City is one of the ten documentary films that are products of a workshop conducted by various German filmmakers. The workshop was supported by the Goethe Institut-Manila, Independent Filmmakers Cooperative and the National Commission for Culture and the Arts, Committee on Cinema. It was held at the College of St. Benilde.

The documentary sought to answer layers of questions starting with why the Waray from Samar, his native province, decide to leave their birthplace, perhaps their family as well, and migrate to the City (Metro Manila). But its main story was that of the director’s own journey to the city to fulfill a dream--to make films-- after years of overseas work in Saudi. A secondary narrative was about the Philcoa vendor’s family who migrated to the city thinking that they can earn more money to send their children to school. Perhaps having these two stories is an attempt to show a parallel in their stories; the mother and the director wanted to fulfill a dream. But it got lost with the interviews with politicians and businessman and ‘successful’ Waray from Samar talking about their views on the questions the director posed. In addition, the two narratives were not equally emphasized, the director’s having more reel time.

The common answer given to the question by his interviewees--both the 'successful' and the struggling who all hailed from Samar--on why the Waray leave the province is poverty. Samar remains to be one of the poorest provinces in the country despite being one of the largest, having a big land area with natural resources. I don’t think being prone to typhoon is the only reason that it is poor (one of the interviewees said so)--no, I won’t accept that as reason. And perhaps, the director did not, too, so he sought other answers why Samar is poor. One of those who gave their views was the incumbent mayor of Pambujan, Samar (Noriel’s town) who rants about the former mayor about not introducing genuine change the whole 40 years he was in office. For his part, he tore down the old municipal building and erected a new one. Talk about real change.

Clips from the director’s previous films were also inserted to let the audience see what these politicians do in their province, like the Curacha dance (from This is Where Your Taxes Go). According to the film, this practice has become a fundraising activity by the baranggays. In this gathering, politicians dance and throw money, literally. And you wonder, where does this money come from? Does it really come from the politicians' own pocket? What does it say of us and of our culture that can tolerate this kind of practice?

The director should be commended for his work in gathering a number of Waray in the city for the interviews, but some of those included could have been edited out because some of their answers seem to be the same. What is noteworthy, however, is the contrast shown between those Waray who can be considered ‘successful’ in the city (mostly politicians) and those who remained poor, if not in a worse condition. This is the irony that the film wants to point out: they leave Samar because of poverty only to suffer more of it in the city where they pinned all their hopes for a better life. It could have been emphasized in the documentary had it not been overshadowed by other points. Because of the two narratives the audiences have to follow and the talking heads they have to listen to, there is a tendency to get lost in the film.

As for the director’s struggle, he is uncertain whether he has achieved success in the city. It was shown that he already received awards from Gawad CCP for his film Ba’t Man, that his idol, Peque Gallaga, is his fan, that he directed a full-length film (Rindido, described by the director as a film with violence and a bit of sex) included in the 2010 MMFF, that this film had a theatrical run, albeit with only a few blockbuster returns, that he shook Manny Pacquiao’s hand in Batasan, that he saw Kris Aquino, and that he had an autograph from his idol, Brillante Mendoza.

Perhaps, just like the Philcoa vendor’s life, every day is a struggle. One cannot stop working even if s/he thinks that a hint of success is within reach. For what would light up the fire in your belly then?

At the end of the documentary, the questions the director sought to answer were answered, but he knows the situation remains the same. It is not a crime to dream of a better life, true, but perhaps achieving that dream does not require leaving one’s home, a recurrent theme in his other films. One of the interviewees in the film is correct when he said that the Waray will not go hungry and homeless in their native Samar because of the abundance of resources. It is up to them to harness what is available in their surroundings and make it work for them to achieve their dream of a better life.