Lav Diaz’s ‘Magellan’ brings us back to Pigafetta’s accounts—“No one ever saw Lapulapu”

But despite the tumultuous journey of Enrique, he is depicted in the film to sustain his faith to the gods of his ancestors. He particularly calls Apolaki, the sun god in the Visayan pantheon, in moments of gratitude and despair. Like Filipinos that will come after him, Enrique learns to adapt to his new surroundings, make friends with his captors, maintain obedience to his master and learn a foreign language.

It is this deep spirituality that Diaz also uses as a tool to make sense out of the natives of Cebu’s acceptance to the disruptive Western faith. As Magalhães reaches the island after a long and arduous journey across the Pacific—marked by disease, mutiny and deluge—he encounters a barangay ruled by Rajah Humabon (Ronnie Lazaro) stricken by plague. By offering an image of Santo Niño Jesus, a few medicinal tablets and indulging the Rajah with the blood compact ritual, the expeditioner earns the respect of many like a hero.

With the natives portrayed as primitive, barenaked, and with deep spirituality to animist deities, it is easy to misjudge the people as heretic and savage. With Rajah Humabon’s wife Babayi Humamay (Hazel Orencio), who Pigafetta later referred to as Reyna Juana in his accounts after her baptism, carrying the image of the child Jesus in a dance-like footwork from their house to the villagers’ huts, it comes off as a disturbing scene knowing that Magalhães lured the people in the name of Catholicism, which endures up to this day.

This ‘conversion’, if one would call it as such, reflects the film’s opening scene where a bare naked woman ecstatically claims to see a white man watching her bathe in the river. The filmmaker then somehow conveys the message of false hope, trickery and malicious intention of colonisers towards the true inhabitants of rich, unspoilt lands.

The silent power of Diaz’s retelling of our history lies in the natives’ primal nature, which later unravels in the character of Rajah Humabon, whose credit due is arguably eclipsed by the fame Lapulapu enjoys in our history. In Magellan, we see him present most of the time, just like how Pigafetta chronicled his interactions with Magalhães, and even more explored by showcasing how a leader rules his land. Meanwhile, Lapulapu remains as an invisible source of fear, which Humabon later weaponises.

Posing as a welcoming friend, Rajah Humabon keeps to himself the brewing tension between his people and the foreigners. Historically, we know that Rajah Humabon was not in good terms with his uncle-in-law, Lapulapu and Diaz amplifies this by making him a myth, an aswang, a vile monster lurking in the shadows to kill them all. The filmmaker utilises this to explain why Pigafetta mentioned in his accounts that Lapulapu’s men would not heed to the demands of Magellan’s men. Also, it answers Magellan’s bravado that he can defeat Lapulapu without Humabon’s presence in the battle.

True to Pigafetta’s accounts, Magalhães is outnumbered and his men, in full metal armours and swords, were outsmarted by natives who were just using bamboo spears. In the film, the captain survives the battle though badly wounded, leaving Humabon and his men to give the final blow.

More than challenging our nation’s affinity to mythmaking, the film reframes the lens of greed, corruption and helplessness. Here, we see Magalhães reflecting physically the weakness of colonial power under the guise of treacherous benevolence. We see Enrique, frozen while witnessing the raping of his fellow Malay people, having no choice but to comply to who feeds him. We see Humabon, tactical and mighty yet parochial.

The film Magellan is a stark reminder of our country’s pivotal chapter, answering not the question of how we end up being colonised but the question of how we, as a people, are vulnerable to be toyed yet imbibes power strong enough to topple down conquerors. But will it always be others who can fight our battles with the myths of our own making?

NOW READ

Audaciously straightforward: Movie review of Lav Diaz’s ‘Ang Hupa’

The hands that shape Filipino craft and heritage in ‘Segunda Pulo’

Portraits of a nation: Anthony Chen, the filmmaker behind ‘Ilo Ilo’, reflects on his career and Singapore’s cultural growth