Katips vs. Maid in Malacañang Is a Battle of Intent vs. Execution

Katips returned to theaters last August 3 after its initial theatrical run last year as a response to Darryl Yap’s Maid in Malacañang. The former is an adaptation of a 2016 stage musical by Vince Tañada that tells the story of Martial Law viewed from the lens of student activists and survivors of the era while the latter is purportedly the inside story of the Marcoses’ last 72 hours in Malacañang leading to their eviction.

Tañada deliberately squared off against Yap’s film, which has been accused of historical revisionism, as a reminder to audiences that Marcos’ rule was marred by numerous controversies. Despite its noble intentions, Katips is poorly made and is difficult to sit through. Good intentions should never excuse mediocrity, and Katips is unfortunately mediocre.

Adapted from the 2016 stage musical of the same name, Katips intersperses musical numbers with the drama of political struggle. Sometimes this makes for some truly awkward and unpleasant transitions, such as cutting from a gruesome torture scene to a bright and happy song and dance number. Maybe it would’ve been better if Katips had remained confined to the stage.

Tañada, who won Best Director and Best Actor for Katips along with five other awards including Best Picture at the 70th Filipino Academy of Movie Arts and Sciences (FAMAS) awards night, insists on showing how love blossomed in the midst of the struggle through Martial Law. Done well, you get a poignant, rousing and inspiring classic like Les Miserables. Done poorly, and you get Katips, where there are characters like Greggy (Jerome Ponce), who is so thirsty all he can think about while being toured around the Martial Law Museum is whether or not his guide is single (spoiler alert, she is!).

There’s also there baffling Fil-American Lara (Nicole Laurel Asensio) who says, “I’m not that kind of girl,” and “I’m not easy,” while simultaneously throwing herself at Greg (Greggy’s dad, also played by Ponce) every chance she gets. Katips tries to be clever with the juxtaposition of love and government oppression, and one number that intercuts between four couples might actually have been cute if the song wasn’t so excruciatingly long.

Katips runs for a torturous 142 minutes with too many extraneous parts. Ironically, one of the most entertaining numbers is a Metro Aide homage led by Lou Veloso, and it’s a pro-Marcos ditty. It’s utterly confusing because all the Metro Aides sing praises to Apo (Marcos’ name is never mentioned once in the film) and at no point do we see any of them have a change of heart. It’s incongruous with the whole message of the film you wonder why it’s there at all.

On the other hand, Yap’s Maid in Malacañang is a film that never strays from its message. Broken down into 10 digestible chapters with lyrical, almost poetic titles and filmed in 1.33:1 aspect ratio, Yap proves to be a decent storyteller and shot-maker. With the help of executive and creative producer Imee Marcos, Maid in Malacañang humanizes the Marcoses and paints them as sympathetic figures. Its messaging is so focused and clever that regardless of how rabidly anti-Marcos you are, it will weaken your resolve.

Ultimately, neither film is worth supporting. 

Yap claims that Maid in Malacañang isn’t a biopic, but the film uses historical footage and expositional title cards that grant it an air of deceptive authenticity. As much as the film is accused of historical distortion, what Yap leaves out is just as insidious as what he puts in. The film naturally omits theings like the Marcos wealth or accusations of human rights violations during Martial Law.

Instead, it simply depicts a very well-to-do family that is being bullied by the madding crowd. Unsurprisingly, the real hero of the story is Imee herself. Played by a shrieking yet scintillating Cristine Reyes, Imee is called to her father’s side from Hong Kong at the start of the film and proceeds to organize their escape from Malacañang as the mobs close in. The late President Ferdinand Sr. (Cesar Montano) calls her his “genius of a girl” and their close relationship is one of the film’s more endearing dynamics.

In contrast, the elder Marcos chastises Bongbong (Diego Loyzaga) for being a disappointing party boy who has never achieved anything on his own. Bongbong, called Bonget in the film, also has a strangely Oedipal dynamic with his mother Imelda (Ruffa Gutierrez). One scene focuses on Imelda and Bonget in bed, fully clothed, as the mother frets about their impending exile while being consoled by her son. The sequence is uncomfortable and given Yap’s mastery of film, clearly deliberate. 

Marcos Sr. is at all times depicted as a kind, benevolent man, repeatedly stressing his inability to hate or harm the Filipino people, despite how many of them had now turned against him. He laments how his family is hated because they aren’t elitists and they come from simple folk. It’s Marcos myth-making at its finest and anyone going in without a strong grasp of history will be convinced.

In fact, many parts of the story are likely true. Those closest to the Marcoses probably loved them very much. The film follows the story of three of the family’s closest maids, and it’s not unthinkable that these household help loved the Marcoses, who must’ve treated them like family. In Lauren Greenfield’s Kingmaker, audiences can see firsthand how Imelda nonchalantly dispenses P1000 bills to needy folk. It isn’t unreasonable to imagine that the Marcoses must’ve been very generous to their help. In fact, in one scene where a paranoid Imee asks an unfamiliar security personnel, “Ilocos o Tarlac?,” he answers, “Ilocos, ma’am,” and reminds her that she even gave him money for his wedding.

It is in little details like this that Maid in Malacañang succeeds in polishing the Marcoses’ tarnished name. Yap omits certain details, like the source of the Marcoses' wealth, but given how corrupt politicians seem to get elected over and over again, Filipinos don’t seem to care all that much, anyway. As long as the Marcoses share a tiny bit of their mind-boggling wealth, regardless of how they got it, all is forgiven. Yap even goes so far as to have the help unironically call themselves palamunin of the Marcoses, conveniently forgetting that they render service and deserve to be paid.

Maid in Malacañang succeeds at its task in making the Marcoses look good while Katips fails in its attempt to show how bad things were during Marcos’ reign. But make no mistake—Maid in Malacañang is still revisionist propaganda, demonizing the late Cory Aquino by depicting her as some mastermind who orders the exile of her enemies and painting the Filipinos who participated in People Power as a bloodthirsty mob. 

At a time when fake news often and easily eclipses the truth, Maid in Malacañang is a very, very dangerous and powerful tool to obscure history.

Ultimately, neither film is worth supporting. As well-intentioned as Katips is, it is so poorly done that there are far better and more entertaining ways to learn about Martial Law. On the flip side, Maid in Malacañang’s primary intention is to launder the Marcos name and does it with flying colors.

If you’re looking for a truly fun time at the cinemas, you’re better off watching DC’s Super Pets with your whole family. Featuring the Rock as the voice of Krypto, the Super-Dog and Kevin Hart as Ace the Bat Hound, Super Pets is an unpretentious, non-political, heartwarming comedy with the right amount of action and humor. It is significantly better and more enjoyable than both films combined, and if you have pets, it’s a definite must-see. If you want to learn about Martial Law and the Marcoses, go read a book. If you want to laugh and walk out of the theater with a smile, watch Super Pets.