THE KINGMAKER – A Scathingly Honest Portrait of Imelda and the Marcoses

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There are many lessons learned in Lauren Greenfield’s illuminating documentary on Imelda Marcos. It is probably the most piercingly truthful, critically revealing, all-encompassingly no-holds-barred account of Imelda Marcos and her family. It covers her glory years as First Lady of the Philippines to her eventual downfall up to the current era with her son Senator Bong Bong Marcos recently running and losing the 2016 vice-presidency race.

The film starts with an iconic image of Imelda handing out fifty peso bills (each equivalent to a US dollar) from the comfort of her van to adoring beggars on the streets of Manila. Upon passing the Malacanang Palace, she nostalgically reminisces that she misses the clout of being First Lady, not the palace which she finds uncomfortable. In that opening scene alone, Greenfield manages to introduce Imelda, now a congresswoman, in a country of contrasts, of such glaring disparity and desperation.

A trip down memory lane shows Imelda meeting and even charming despots like Muammar al-Gaddafi, Saddam Hussein, as well as footage of an elderly Chairman Mao Tse-tung kissing her hand in respect. Her glamour days include photos of her with Andy Warhol and even a younger Donald Trump. If Imelda ever has a strength, it is probably this innocuous diplomatic charm that she has cultivated through the years.

From the outset, Greenfield’s film aims to show beyond what is orchestrated and controlled. A case in point is her inclusion of a pre-interview scene where Imelda unflatteringly comments on posing to the camera to camouflage her bulging tummy. When Imelda proceeds to show photos of herself with famous leaders, meticulously laid out at her home garden, some of the framed pictures fell with one shattering its glass cover. This incident again isn’t cut from the doco and is even highlighted, something which will act as a foreshadowing metaphor.

The exposure to the unpleasant continues on a much more meaningful and grander scale with the political dynasty of the Marcoses. The implementation of martial law, for instance, facilitated a system of secrets and lies through censorship and propaganda. It is quite refreshing then for the film to openly cite Ferdinand Marcos’s many extra-marital affairs, including the famous one with Dovie Beams, one of the many skeletons hidden in his administration’s smothering closet.

“Martial law, that was the best years of Marcos because that was when he was able to give the Philippines sovereignty, freedom, justice, human rights.”

Imelda proudly asserts, “Martial law, that was the best years of Marcos because that was when he was able to give the Philippines sovereignty, freedom, justice, human rights.” A bold statement that is rebuked by surviving detainees who suffered imprisonment, torture, and rape. Grim statistics follow, including the incarceration of 70,000 people, 35,000 people tortured, and 3,200 killed.

“I was always criticised for being excessive. But, that is mothering. That is the spirit of mothering. You cannot quantify love.”

Perhaps the aptest metaphor for the Marcos corruption and excess was their acquisition of wild animals from Africa in 1976 and putting them at Calauit Island in Palawan after hard-heartedly evicting its current inhabitants. The giraffes and zebras have survived to this day. Unfortunately, they have endured deformities and ailments due to inbreeding and neglect. To her detractors, Imelda nonchalantly says, “I was always criticised for being excessive. But, that is mothering. That is the spirit of mothering. You cannot quantify love.”

The rise and fall of the Marcos political dynasty wouldn’t be complete without the mention of the Aquinos, from the unsolved assassination of Ninoy and the People Power Revolution that ousted the despotic Marcos and launched Cory Aquino as leader of a democratic Philippines. At the time of this documentary’s filming, Cory’s son Noynoy is finishing his term as president, and the 2016 elections are underway. 

“Money that was looted and hidden is now being brought back to the Philippines to finance political campaigns.”

In that election, Senator Bong Bong is accused of financing his campaign for the vice-presidency with their hidden ill-gotten wealth to which he denies. Andy Bautista of the Philippine Commission on Good Government (PCGG) contradicts this, pointing out the sale of Imelda’s Picassos, Michaelangelos, and Monets, among other artworks at her lavish Manila apartment. He states, “Money that was looted and hidden is now being brought back to the Philippines to finance political campaigns.”

Ironically, Bautista is also the Chairman of the 2016 Elections, which resulted in the Marcos-funded victory of Rodrigo Duterte as the new president. Since Duterte’s victory, Bautista recounts how the PCGG assets will now be under the control of a Marcos-friendly government and may eventually be returned to the Marcoses. This injustice becomes more forebodingly real after Duterte has ordered the burial of Marcos’s body at the Heroes Cemetery despite the protests of many.

In its purest essence, this incisive documentary is not only about Imelda, nor is it just about the Marcoses. It is deeper and broader than what is viewed on-screen. It is about a people and country who have a short memory and are condemned to repeat the sins of the past, as Noynoy Aquino pitifully affirms. It is about a “padrino” culture of worshipping the wealthy elite with the loyalty of the masses easily bought by money. And even among these elite and privileged, it is possessing an uncaring to-each-his-own attitude of selfishly enriching oneself to the detriment of others.

“Perception is real, and the truth is not.”

The film ends with an ominous uncertain future as Duterte is hell-bent on passing his power to Bong Bong with the support of the Marcos-friendly Supreme Court and with the possible future imprisonment of the more grounded vice-president Leni Robredo. Sounds like a disaster film with a tragic ending? Well, that is the Philippines for you, where everything that glitters is not exactly Yamashita’s gold. As Imelda proudly says in the film, “Perception is real, and the truth is not.” A statement that is partly revisionist, partly delusional, somewhat manipulative, a stark antithesis to honesty and integrity, which are virtues the country badly needs.

THE KINGMAKER (5/5)