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Saturday, October 21, 2017

QCinema 2017 | Dapol Tan Payawar Na Tayug 1931, a history of class struggle in three acts

In 1931, a band of peasants led by Pedro Calosa staged a revolt against the local government and landlords of Tayug, Pangasinan. Calosa had previously gotten into trouble in Hawaii due to him organizing a labor union, and upon his return, he planned to establish a colorum society in Tayug.

The siege ultimately lasted for just under a day. Though the ruling Americans attributed the revolt to a bunch of hooligans taken to looting, the revolt was fueled by increasing rage and resentment against an unfair feudal system that took advantage of the poor. Calosa was imprisoned for forty years and was subsequently released in the sixties.

Though Calosa and his exploits are largely forgotten today, Dapol Tan Payawar Na Tayug 1931 is not the first cinematic depiction of Pedro Calosa's life: the most notable entry is Gerardo De Leon's 1947 film Tayug (Ang Bayang Api) which starred De Leon himself as Calosa. Instead of relying on a traditional narrative structure, Dapol Tan Payawar Na Tayug 1931 takes a more experimental approach to telling its story, extending beyond a mere recollection of the event into something reflexively critical and introspective.

Calosa's story in Dapol Tan Payawar Na Tayug 1931 is told as a triptych of three intersecting narratives: the first is a silent-era film treatment of Calosa's formation of the Tayug Colorum leading to the night before the revolt, the second is a 1960's French New Wave/European Cinema inspired take on Calosa, now a mystical religious figure in the mountains, as he is interviewed by author F. Sionil Jose and David Sturtevant, and the third is a present-day photomontage of a filmmaker (Fe Hyde) as she attempts to make a film about Calosa's life and struggles.

The first part adds background to the story, with Calosa as a visionary beset by mystical entities and the ghosts and spirits of heroes and notable figures, spurring him onto greatness. The second part sees Calosa as a man changed by his experiences, shaped by the nature of the religious beliefs of the Colorum, a strange amalgamation of atavistic, paganistic and Christian concepts. The third section looks back on the event in the present day; this is the part where the revolt itself is described to us by words, giving historical context to the events and the aftermath.

The peasants' struggle is but one of many struggles over the centuries, as feudalism gave way to capitalist states - perhaps with different dynamics but employing similar systems of oppression. The shared DNA of struggle across cultures is reflected in the film's very framework, such as its usage of African American music evocative of the antebellum south. There is also an undercurrent of sadness in the second and third parts as we see that this struggle is eternal - the revolt did little to enact lasting change in the oppressive systems that are still largely in place today.

Yet the experimental treatment may prove to be an acquired taste; the film has an occasional tendency to be overindulgent. The film does not dwell too much on the religious aspects of Calosa's movement - it is said that one of the reasons behind the revolt is to legitimize the Philippine Independent Church as the national church. Some musical selections (such as Bach's Air) tend to add schmaltz to  supposedly serious scenes. In making us understand the struggle, the film tends to take on a dry, academic tone, and it only succeeds to evoke genuine emotion during its final moments, when we see the tragedy of Calosa's two deaths - the death of his mortal body, related to us by his family and the other related to us as the death of his memory, through forgetting Calosa's achievements and legacy. 

But perhaps that second death hasn't come yet. Through films like this that seek to educate us about Calosa's life, the spirit of the man and his struggle will live on.

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