Why you cryin', Bela Padilla?
Bela Padilla’s recent Instagram post stating that “harsh” criticism of Pinoy films is a "lack of patriotism" is flawed—and professionally dangerous.
Bela Padilla/Facebook
Daily TribuneBela Padilla’s recent Instagram post stating that “harsh” criticism of Pinoy films is a "lack of patriotism" is flawed—and professionally dangerous.
Bela Padilla/Facebook
Bela/Instagram
Bela Padilla’s recent Instagram post stating that “harsh” criticism of Pinoy films is a "lack of patriotism" is flawed—and professionally dangerous.
“I always get sad when I hear a Filipino put down a local film or review a local film harshly and compare our work to an international project that has a budget we can only dream of, because I see foreigners appreciate our work more than we do. And sadly, that lack of patriotism or pride in our work is apparent not only in the film industry but in every sector,” she says, as part of a lengthy caption in her IG on 16 March.
To mistake honest critique with a “lack of national pride” is to fundamentally misunderstand the role of art, the function of a critic, and the mechanisms of a healthy industry. If we follow Bela’s logic, then we don't need critics; we need PR flacks.
A culture that only allows praise is a culture that has stopped growing. Her statement is dangerous because she is teaching toxic positivity, which might as well serve as a shield for mediocrity.
Labeling a negative review as "unpatriotic" is a silencing tactic that ignores how the global industry actually works. In the U.S. and UK, critics are notoriously brutal toward American- or foreign-produced films. The late Pauline Kael, and Roger Ebert and his legendary zero-star reviews. Today, we still have the New Yorker, New York Times, BBC, the Guardian, and more. They dissect high-budget "slop" because they hold their industry to a standard of excellence. And because these educated people understand that criticism is not betrayal of one's country.
Harsh reviews exist precisely because people care about cinema. It often comes from passion and not hostility. Critics who devote their time analyzing films are the same people who believe deeply in the potential of the medium. A negative review is written because someone believes the film can be better.
As a side note, I often encounter online rants that only “real critics” have the right to express their opinions online. This is another flawed logic.
In the digital age, film discourse is no longer confined to newspaper reviewers. Cinema is art. And art belongs to the public. Therefore, audiences, bloggers, and cinephiles all contribute to cultural discussion. If the public is not talking, the industry is already dead. Sure, not every movie comment will be smart or analytical. But dismissing all negative responses as illegitimate avoids engaging with the issues being raised.
If we cannot critique our own art, by that same logic, we lose the right to critique our government, our infrastructure, or any other sector. Accountability is the highest form of pride.
If you truly love Philippine cinema, you demand better for it. You don't settle for "good enough for a local movie."
Another weakness in Bela’s post is the suggestion that Filipino films should “not be compared” to international productions because the latter have much larger budgets misunderstands how audiences engage with cinema. Viewers do not watch films with a spreadsheet. We respond to storytelling, acting, directing, and emotional truth.
And her claim that we shouldn't compare local work to international projects with "budgets we can only dream of"? This is a convenient deflection. While a massive budget can afford spectacle and CGI, it does not buy a coherent script and emotional resonance.
In the United States, some of the most influential films began as modest independent productions. Rocky was made for about $1 million and went on to win the Oscar for Best Picture. Clerks was shot for roughly $27,000 and became a landmark of American indie cinema. The Blair Witch Project was produced for around $60,000 and became a global phenomenon.
The Iranian film A Separation won the Academy Award and was widely praised. Moonlight, Anora—these are low-budget films that captured global critical praise. We could go on and on here. But the point is, these films prove that “quality cinema” does not mean "expensive."
It is also ironic for the actress to cite "foreigner appreciation" as proof that local reviewers are too harsh. Why should a foreign perspective—which views our culture through a lens of novelty or "otherness"—be more valid than a Pinoy critic who understands a Pinoy movie’s nuances and recycled tropes?
We should not need international praise to tell us what is good. What we should have is the confidence to call out what is mediocre or bad ourselves.
To demand that Pinoy critics shut up after they have watched a bad Pinoy movie is equivalent to demanding that the industry stay stagnant. If we want to be truly world-class, we have to start embracing the fire of honest discourse. Suggesting censorship on negative reviews will stunt the growth of the industry, and we will be left with an industry stuck in place, one that no amount of patriotic "cheerleading" can fix.
The industry doesn't need more sycophants. It needs better screenwriting, fresh talents, and the courage to face the truth. Patriotism means demanding excellence, not blind praise. Silence is the true enemy of Philippine cinema.