Was not going to watch this anymore until I came across a Facebook post from QCinema, announcing that the last screening of this documentary was moved to a bigger cinema in Gateway. I didn’t waste time buying a ticket.
My mom tagged along too, albeit we weren’t sat together because she only expressed interest in watching this the day after I bought a ticket. She was so unserious tbh… during the middle of the screening, she went out to buy some food and drinks (we came in late) for the both of us. I felt guilty devouring french fries and chicken nuggets during an animated retelling of what was done to the lost sabungeros.
Anyway, I am not the type of person to watch documentaries, but this film gave me that itch to do so now. Lost Sabungeros made me realize that I was missing out on so much. What a powerful film.
Keep in mind: I only knew of the missing sabungeros when news of this film’s cancelled premiere at Cinemalaya. I grew up privileged too, and detached from 2020 to 2022.
This was an eye-opener in every sense of the word.
It starts off grim. A man is abducted from his home in broad daylight. This was portrayed with real CCTV footage. That was a bone-chilling scene that showed me how bleak it will get.
Oh my god. I don’t really know how to articulate my experience. I am struggling to find the words. All I honestly remember are the chills that went up my body and how close I was to crying and how I was approaching a panic attack.
The film is a distressing, upsetting watch whose pursuit of increasing awareness about the lost sabungeros succeeds.
It’s very easy to simply retell and portray the facts of such a terrifying case. But I am amazed by what GMA has accomplished: transforming photographs of the lost sabungeros to human beings. It is easy to brush off their faces as nothing special. But GMA spends careful, incredible time in reminding viewers that the lost sabungeros are someone’s friend, child, and father.
And that is what makes this case so scary. I saw someone on Reddit say that the disappearances of the lost sabungeros are comparable to the Maguindanao massacre. I get it. This is a disturbing case, and very worrying in terms of the number of casualties.
Bone-chilling.
Bato dela Rosa’s appearance was surprising. “Trust the government,” he says. Unlike other Philippine movies where the government’s incompetence is shown and not told, hearing this remark from someone who was an official himself pulled a lot of laughter (in disbelief) from an audience that was familiar with the pervading incompetence and corruption in the country.
Earlier in the film, the sabungeros’ families are hellbent on getting justice. “What will we do with your money if we don’t have our husbands/fathers/sons?” They say.
Justice is slow. And as mentioned in the film, justice is a luxury that ordinary people (and especially those without connections) cannot afford.
To see the same people who were determined in securing justice be resigned to the (unfortunate) fact that their husbands/fathers/sons were not coming back was, to put it simply, sad. They have accepted they cannot do anything.
After all, you’re up against powerful people.
They know they can’t do anything, and that’s heartbreaking, because you yourself know it’s true.
Was not going to watch this anymore until I came across a Facebook post from QCinema, announcing that the last screening of this documentary was moved to a bigger cinema in Gateway. I didn’t waste time buying a ticket.
My mom tagged along too, albeit we weren’t sat together because she only expressed interest in watching this the day after I bought a ticket. She was so unserious tbh… during the middle of the screening, she went out to buy some food and drinks (we came in late) for the both of us. I felt guilty devouring french fries and chicken nuggets during an animated retelling of what was done to the lost sabungeros.
Anyway, I am not the type of person to watch documentaries, but this film gave me that itch to do so now. Lost Sabungeros made me realize that I was missing out on so much. What a powerful film.
Keep in mind: I only knew of the missing sabungeros when news of this film’s cancelled premiere at Cinemalaya. I grew up privileged too, and detached from 2020 to 2022.
This was an eye-opener in every sense of the word.
It starts off grim. A man is abducted from his home in broad daylight. This was portrayed with real CCTV footage. That was a bone-chilling scene that showed me how bleak it will get.
Oh my god. I don’t really know how to articulate my experience. I am struggling to find the words. All I honestly remember are the chills that went up my body and how close I was to crying and how I was approaching a panic attack.
The film is a distressing, upsetting watch whose pursuit of increasing awareness about the lost sabungeros succeeds.
It’s very easy to simply retell and portray the facts of such a terrifying case. But I am amazed by what GMA has accomplished: transforming photographs of the lost sabungeros to human beings. It is easy to brush off their faces as nothing special. But GMA spends careful, incredible time in reminding viewers that the lost sabungeros are someone’s friend, child, and father.
And that is what makes this case so scary. I saw someone on Reddit say that the disappearances of the lost sabungeros are comparable to the Maguindanao massacre. I get it. This is a disturbing case, and very worrying in terms of the number of casualties.
Bone-chilling.
Bato dela Rosa’s appearance was surprising. “Trust the government,” he says. Unlike other Philippine movies where the government’s incompetence is shown and not told, hearing this remark from someone who was an official himself pulled a lot of laughter (in disbelief) from an audience that was familiar with the pervading incompetence and corruption in the country.
Earlier in the film, the sabungeros’ families are hellbent on getting justice. “What will we do with your money if we don’t have our husbands/fathers/sons?” They say.
Justice is slow. And as mentioned in the film, justice is a luxury that ordinary people (and especially those without connections) cannot afford.
To see the same people who were determined in securing justice be resigned to the (unfortunate) fact that their husbands/fathers/sons were not coming back was, to put it simply, sad. They have accepted they cannot do anything.
After all, you’re up against powerful people.
They know they can’t do anything, and that’s heartbreaking, because you yourself know it’s true.
