ALIPATO AT MUOG
By Sebastian Heiduschke
The first time I encountered the phrase “was disappeared” was while interviewing members of a human rights group in Guatemala. Their friends and family members had been whisked away by police after protesting a mining operation run by a large U.S. corporation that had poisoned their drinking water. They could no longer irrigate their fields or provide water for their animals. The high levels of arsenic made even small amounts unsafe to consume, risking severe gastrointestinal illness and even death. The corporation, it seemed, had paid well to have the protesters removed.
When you disappear, you are still the agent of your own action—you choose not to be found. When you are disappeared, however, it is something done to you. It is more than abduction or removal; it is a euphemism suggesting that someone has ensured you will never reappear. A sliver of hope may remain—at least until a body is found.
Forced disappearances are common in authoritarian or undemocratic societies. Regimes silence those they deem dangerous, killing two birds with one stone: they eliminate dissenting voices while signaling to others the consequences of resistance. Activism always carries this risk, and when a loved one is disappeared, the grieving process cannot fully begin. Families often plead simply for a body, hoping for closure.
When Filipino activist Jonas Burgos was abducted in broad daylight at a crowded mall in 2007, his family launched a search to determine his whereabouts. The trail, surprisingly, did not go cold but led instead to troubling revelations: police officers had detained Jonas under the pretense of domestic terrorism and taken him to an undisclosed location. His mother, Edita, and his brother, JL—the filmmaker—set out to uncover the truth.
The result is a 96-minute documentary that chronicles their search. It exposes the brazen lies of government officials, features interviews with anonymous sources, and highlights the public advocacy of Jonas’s 80-year-old mother as she leads a tireless campaign to find her son. While JL often relies on conventional documentary techniques, including talking heads, several moments stand out for their emotional depth. In one scene, he films his mother from outside her direct line of sight, giving her the space and privacy needed to recount painful memories. She knows the camera is there, but its unobtrusiveness allows her to speak with a measure of calm in an otherwise fraught situation.
Seventeen years after Jonas’s disappearance, the family continues the search. Asked why they persist, JL explained: “The search for Jonas is a search for truth. To search for a desaparecido is to search for truth.” The sentiment echoes a familiar refrain heard in many places: “Say their name.”
Alipato at Muog won Best Picture, and JL received Best Director at the Filipino Academy of Movie Arts and Sciences Awards.
A portion of ticket sales will go to the family, who financed the film themselves; the rest will support the Darkside. Buying a ticket—or even several—is one of the best ways to support films like this at your local arthouse theater.
MY FATHER’S SHADOW
By Sebastian Heiduschke
I am a sucker for African cinema. Many films are created in a rogue way, independent from big studios, filmed on cellphones and distributed for free via youtube or similar channels. No festivals or expensive subscriptions needed. Nollywood – that portmanteau of Nigeria and Hollywood – continues to churn out one entertaining feature after another, and it is hard to keep up with the sheer number of films.
Occasionally though, one of these films gets picked up by a Western producer who infuses a ton of money and readies the film for a run in the festival circuit. That’s what happened with Akinola Davies’ long feature My Father’s Shadow who takes us into the street of Lagos, Nigeria, during a period of political unrest. What unfolds in this BAFTA-winning, Oscar-nominated feature is nothing less than stunning. I don’t think I breathed during the opening sequence of the film – an overture lasting 150 seconds that blends images and sounds into a wild sea of cinematic experiences. I wish I would have seen it at Cannes and experienced it in a room filled with other cineastes.
We follow two young kids, brothers Remi and Akin, on a trip with their estranged father to Nigeria’s capital city, Lagos, to collect money his boss owes him for previous work. The astute Western viewer who has never been to an African country might be confused by some of the things we see, hear, and learn. Moving around without your own car requires patience – but time has a different meaning in African countries. Hitchhiking is common in areas where no public transportation exists, particularly to cover distances between cities. In more populated areas, people take minibusses like the “Danfo” bus in which part of the film takes place. Danfo is a word in the Yoruban language meaning “floating” or “flying”. They are more than a means of transportation, they embody the chaos of Lagos, the bustling energy and the culture, all in the small space of an old VW van in an iconic yellow any Nigerian will recognize immediately. Drivers often squeeze up to fourteen people in a bus. What a marvelous idea of Davies to have some of Lagos’ political debates play out in such a small, confined space – a Nigerian chamber play!
Shot on location in 16mm, the film is a road movie, a love story, a drama, and a sightseeing trip all at once. It feels like we travel through Lagos with our protagonists, eat pap, experience the rural-urban divide, and wonder if “the problem with this country is discipline,” as one of the riders on a Danfo remarks. It is worth paying more attention than unusual to the soundscape of Lagos combined with an absolutely marvelous score by Duval Timothy and CJ Mira.
See this amazing film on the big screen and travel to Nigeria for the price of a film admission. One show only, at the Darkside. Don’t miss another night of world class cinema. Lines out the door in LA and NYC, affordable popcorn, snacks, and sarcasm in Corvallis. Support your locally owned cinema and get your ticket today.
Der schwarze Kanal (The Black Channel) was a series of political propaganda programs aired weekly between 1960 and 1989 by East German state television broadcaster DFF. Read our current film reviews here.