A Reckoning with History: Lav Diaz’s Makikiraan Po and the Architecture of Colonial Trauma

In the landscape of contemporary world cinema, few figures command as much reverence—and debate—as the Filipino auteur Lav Diaz. Known for his "durational" masterpieces that often challenge the patience of even the most seasoned festival-goers, Diaz has carved out a singular niche. His latest offering, Makikiraan Po (Let Us Through, Dear Ancestors), which recently premiered at the Venice Film Festival, serves as both a departure and a thematic continuation of his life’s work. Clocking in at a brisk 151 minutes, the film is his shortest feature in nearly a quarter-century, yet it sacrifices none of the intellectual density or haunting visual language that has defined his career since his breakthrough in the early 2000s.

The Genesis of a New Colonial Epic

Makikiraan Po occupies a unique space in Diaz’s filmography. Initially conceived as a mere flashback sequence for his previous, more sprawling project Magellan—which explored the arrival of the Spanish in the Philippines through the eyes of explorer Ferdinand Magellan—the film evolved into a standalone entity. While Magellan was an ambitious, sweeping exploration of conquest, Makikiraan Po zooms in on the visceral, ground-level consequences of that same colonial machinery.

Set in the early 17th century in the municipality of Sampaloc, Quezon, the film follows a group of laborers tasked with transporting massive marble slabs through dense forest terrain. Their destination: a nascent Spanish settlement dubbed “Estacion Nueve,” where a church is under construction. The protagonist, a mestizo named Dungwen (played by Christian Bables in his debut for the director), leads a motley crew of laborers—including the stoic Mang Tugis (Bong Cabrera), the opportunistic Higante (Rafa Siguion-Reyna), and the deeply anxious Diego (Amado Arjay Babon). They are promised a life-changing sum of money and land for their efforts, a classic colonial carrot-and-stick dynamic that sets the stage for the inevitable tragedy that follows.

A Chronology of Exploitation: The Encomienda System

To understand the stakes of Makikiraan Po, one must understand the historical bedrock upon which it stands. The film is set against the backdrop of the Spanish encomienda system, a labor exploitation structure implemented following Miguel López de Legazpi’s recapture of Cebu in 1565.

The narrative chronology is punctuated by the cruelty of the era. The story begins with a haunting, wordless sequence featuring an indigenous elder calling out to the spirits of the land, a premonition of the environmental and cultural destruction to come. As the film progresses, the audience is introduced to Padre Enciso (Bart Guingona), a Spanish friar whose tyranny is as absolute as it is personal. The friar, who serves as the film’s primary antagonist, is not only an agent of religious conversion but a sexual predator who has sired children across the archipelago—including, as the plot reveals, the protagonist Dungwen.

The tension escalates as the labor crew realizes that their "contract" is a fiction. The film documents their slow realization that they are not being compensated for building a legacy, but are instead being worked to death in the service of an empire that views them as expendable.

The Babaylan: A Symbol of Spiritual Resistance

One of the most compelling additions to this project is the inclusion of the character Babayeng Indimatandog, portrayed by acclaimed director and actress Isabel Sandoval. Her role as an “untouchable” healer and goddess of hope provides the film with its most significant emotional anchor.

Sandoval, who joined the project after a chance encounter with Diaz at the New York Film Festival, brings a weary, ethereal quality to a character who represents the indigenous spirituality that the Spanish sought to eradicate. In the film’s narrative structure, she is the antithesis of the friar’s theocratic absolutism. While Padre Enciso attempts to impose a rigid, patriarchal order, the Babaylan stands for the fluidity of nature and the sanctity of the old ways.

Her performance, delivered in her native Cebuano, is a masterclass in subtlety. Diaz places her off-center and deep within the frame, forcing the audience to search for her, much like the characters in the film must search for meaning in an era of encroaching darkness. Her arrest and incarceration by the friar serve as the film’s moral breaking point, solidifying the conflict between the colonizer’s "salvation" and the native’s survival.

Supporting Data and Production Aesthetic

Makikiraan Po is a visual triumph of minimalism. Diaz’s use of chiaroscuro—high-contrast lighting—transforms the lush, overgrown landscapes of Sampaloc into a stage for a gothic nightmare. Despite the absence of color, the film is rich with texture. The production design, which notably reuses materials from the Magellan shoot, creates a sense of continuity that reinforces the cyclical nature of colonial history.

• Director: Lav Diaz
• Runtime: 151 minutes
• Key Cast: Christian Bables, Bong Cabrera, Isabel Sandoval, Bart Guingona, Ronnie Lazaro
• Primary Setting: 17th-century Sampaloc, Quezon
• Thematic Focus: Encomienda system, colonial religious conversion, indigenous agency

The use of jump cuts—a rare stylistic choice for Diaz—adds a jarring, modern edge to the period piece, highlighting the fractured nature of the history being told. The soundscape, characterized by the dense, suffocating noises of the forest, serves as a constant reminder that while the colonizers attempt to build, the land itself is indifferent to their efforts.

Official Perspectives and Metatextual Meaning

The film’s title, Makikiraan Po, is a common Filipino expression of humility, used when passing through someone’s space or acknowledging the spirits of ancestors. By choosing this title, Diaz elevates the film from a simple historical drama to a metatextual commentary on land rights and historical memory.

In interviews, Diaz has been candid about his intent. He views the church that the characters are building as a "cruel parting gift"—a structure that will survive the massacre of the laborers to stand as a monument to the very system that killed them. The hypocrisy of characters like the marauder Bari-bari (Yul Servo) and Padre Enciso serves as a reflection of the systemic greed that defined the era. When Enciso accuses the locals of being greedy, it is a classic projection—a way to justify the violence he perpetrates in the name of God and gold.

Implications: The Enduring Legacy of Colonialism

The implications of Makikiraan Po extend far beyond the 17th century. By grounding the narrative in the specific history of the Philippines, Diaz is engaging with the broader, ongoing discourse regarding the "colonial, feudal, and capitalist spirit" that continues to shape modern society.

The film suggests that the "curse" of colonialism is not a static event that ended with independence, but an ongoing process that necessitates a constant, humble negotiation with the past—hence the title, Makikiraan. The audience is left with a stark conclusion: while the individual lives of the characters may be snuffed out, the structures of power they helped build remain.

Makikiraan Po does not offer the catharsis of a typical historical epic. There is no triumphant rebellion, no grand moment of liberation. Instead, there is the quiet, painful recognition of what was lost. As the film concludes, it leaves the viewer with a profound sense of foreboding, a reminder that the ghosts of the past are still walking the forests, waiting for us to acknowledge them.

As the film continues its festival run and seeks U.S. distribution, it stands as a testament to Lav Diaz’s unwavering commitment to the "Diazian" way of storytelling—patient, mournful, and profoundly necessary. It is a work that demands we pause, acknowledge the space we occupy, and consider the price of the ground beneath our feet.

Grade: B+