Cinemalaya Review: 'Ganggang' turns spider fights into potent metaphor
J.L. Burgos brings assured visual storytelling to a coming-of-age tale about friendship, bullying and the abuse of power.
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J.L. Burgos brings assured visual storytelling to a coming-of-age tale about friendship, bullying and the abuse of power.
J.L. Burgos follows Alipato at Muog with Ganggang, another work that bears the imprint of a filmmaker still grappling with the disappearance of his brother, activist Jonas Burgos. That personal history remains palpable here, but the filmmaker translates it into a coming-of-age story seen through the eyes of children.
Set in the countryside, the film follows Mel, a city boy suddenly relocated by his soldier father, as he navigates a new school, new friendships and the bully who rules his new environment.
The film establishes its tension early. Mel’s father, played with frightening authority, immediately suggests the kind of household from which the boy is being displaced. In his new community, Mel finds friendship with Ilay and Ten-ten, and the boys’ obsession with ganggang — fighting spiders — provides the film with a particularly apt metaphor. The spiders are made to fight, one preying upon another, while the children inhabit a country where violence and domination remain part of everyday life. The game becomes more than childhood play: it mirrors a society in which the powerful prey upon the vulnerable.
Burgos also makes a pointed choice in his depiction of armed forces. Here, soldiers occupy the position of aggressors, while ordinary people bear the consequences.
That perspective is understandable given the filmmaker’s own family history and his longstanding engagement with human-rights issues. Yet the film occasionally reduces its conflict to a stark binary. There is virtually no redeeming dimension to the soldiers, while the lives and motivations of the townspeople remain comparatively vague. Are they activists? Are they organized around specific causes? What exactly are they fighting for? The film does not provide enough detail to complicate that opposition. The barangay captain, too, veers toward caricature.
Still, Ganggang is remarkably assured in its visual storytelling. Mac Cosico's cinematography knows what to capture and, more importantly, when to capture it. Even nature imagery that might function merely as an establishing shot acquires dramatic purpose because the framing and timing heighten the characters’ reactions and the tension of the scene. The images do not merely provide style; they actively direct the viewer toward what matters. This is confident filmmaking with a clear understanding of visual narrative.
The performances and the children’s banter further strengthen the film. Their exchanges feel natural rather than manufactured, giving their friendship the spontaneity of actual childhood. The bullying sequences are especially telling: kung sino ang armado, siya ang matapang.
Power belongs to whoever possesses the means to inflict violence, while those without it are left vulnerable. In that sense, the children’s world becomes a miniature version of a much larger Philippine reality.
Ganggang does not attempt to balance every side of its conflict, and that may be both its limitation and its conviction. Its political perspective is unmistakable, perhaps at times too simplified, but Burgos’ command of the camera gives the film a force that its binary characterization occasionally lacks. As a portrait of childhood friendship set against violence, intimidation and the abuse of power, it remains a compelling watch — and one of the more assured examples of visual storytelling in this year’s Cinemalaya lineup.
Cinemalaya 22 runs until 18 August at Red Carpet Cinemas in Shangri-La Plaza, Gateway Cineplex 18 and select Ayala Malls Cinemas.
