By Monsi A. Serrano
The controversy surrounding the Quezon movie has reignited a timeless but urgent question: Where does creative freedom end, and where does accountability begin?
The filmmakers’ decision to present their work as a straightforward biopic, only to later admit it was satire after public backlash, was not an act of artistic boldness. It was a failure of transparency.
Art, especially when it involves history and historical personalities who have contributed to our nation, carries a profound moral duty: to honor truth! And one need not be morally upright to follow that simple ethic. For generations, Filipinos have looked to cinema not merely for entertainment but as a mirror of identity, a chronicle of memory, and a reflection of our shared struggles and victories. But when filmmakers distort truth, particularly about national figures, they betray not only artistic ethics but also public trust.
Creative freedom is indeed an essential pillar of democracy. Artists must be free to challenge, provoke, and even discomfort. Yet this freedom loses its moral weight when it is used to mislead. Satire, a legitimate and vital art form, exists to reveal truth through irony and exaggeration, but definitely not to conceal intent behind ambiguity.
In the case of Quezon, apparently, the filmmakers marketed and released the film as a biographical account, inviting audiences to see it as history. Only after widespread criticism did they backpedal, claiming it was satire. Such a defense is not artistic courage, but a shameless opportunism. True satire never hides behind pretense; it embraces discomfort from the start.
By blurring the line between fact and fiction, the filmmakers not only disrespected their audience but also diminished the legacy of President Manuel L. Quezon, a man whose vision, dignity, and moral conviction helped shape the Philippine nation. His memory deserves reverence, not irony disguised as revelation.
Artistic expression must never become a license to deceive. History has suffered enough from propaganda and revisionism. In an age of disinformation and manipulation, the responsibility of storytellers is more critical than ever. Their works influence public consciousness and will echo into the future. That is why creative freedom must always walk hand in hand with truth and responsibility.
When falsehoods are disguised as artistic interpretation, cinema ceases to enlighten. Needless to say, it manipulates. A film that distorts history risks distorting the very identity of the people it seeks to represent, and also inevitably insults their descendants and their townmates.
This controversy is not just about one film; it exposes a deeper cultural crisis—the erosion of accountability in art. Filipino cinemas must reclaim their higher purpose: not just to entertain, but to awaken, to challenge, and to remind us who we are. The greatest works of art endure not because they please, but because they confront and reveal truth, however uncomfortable.
We live in an age of digital deception, where troll farms, echo chambers, and viral misinformation blur the line between truth and fabrication. We can infer how the past administration did that, and continue to do so shamelessly. And when filmmakers exploit this confusion for profit or publicity, they become complicit in the very erosion of truth they should resist. Whether motivated by ego, vanity, or money, deception is deception. Period.
Cinema is not merely for entertainment; it has its moral responsibility. It shapes how we remember, what we value, and what we pass on to the next generation. If we allow deception to masquerade as creativity, we lose art’s noblest purpose, which is to hold a mirror to society and reveal our shared human truth.
The Quezon movie controversy stands as a stark reminder that truth is not negotiable. Creative freedom does not thrive by evading accountability; it flourishes through transparency and integrity. The true measure of art lies not in how loudly it provokes, but in how honestly it speaks.
In the end, truth cannot hide behind satire. When it does, the real casualty is not just the filmmaker’s credibility, but the moral foundation of art itself, and what they are teaching the next generation who want to be part of the creative industry. That it is okay to conceal, or deliberately lie through our teeth, as long as we get the return on our investment and earn some more. But like it or not, after calling it a satire, the filmmakers may have laughed last, all the way to the bank.
Yes, it may have been clever to admit at the press conference that it was satire, after the profits were earned and the “biopic” buzz had done its job. But history will judge harshly, and who knows? Digital karma may soon come knocking.
The Quezon movie controversy stands as a stark reminder that truth is non-negotiable. Creative freedom does not thrive by evading accountability—it flourishes through transparency and integrity. The true measure of art lies not in how loudly it provokes, but in how honestly it speaks.
Today, we face the danger of Sophism, which is the temptation to make right things wrong and wrong things right. But might is not always right. The manufactured noise of troll farms and their social media echo chambers cannot turn deception into truth. There is no amount of fanning in the social that can drown the reality that truth, not manipulation, ultimately prevails.
As Albert Camus said: “Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object.”
Oh, it is just as dazzling as the silver screen, where thousands are deceived into believing the movie is worth watching, only to discover it was nothing more than a satire. Tragically, when the filmmakers profit from distortion, the audience pays the moral cost. Tant pis!