Why Filipinos Deserve Much Better Than Quezon’s Game
Why Filipinos Deserve Much Better Than ‘Quezon’s Game’
Raymond Bagatsing as Manuel L. Quezon on the left, Manuel L. Quezon on the right.
There are two kinds of historical films: those that try to reflect the real world, and those that try to create a new one in order to best serve a story. Sometimes it’s obvious which type one is going for, but other times the truth is much better concealed. In most cases, however, either option is forgiven as long as the film is a creative success. Quezon’s Game is not one of those cases.
Manuel L. Quezon is one of the most complex and compelling characters in Philippine history. For three decades, he not only led the way alongside Sergio Osmeña towards trying to build a united and independent Philippine republic, but he also laid the groundwork for the modern Filipino statesman, politician, and later, president. He was charismatic and extremely ambitious, and in his time no stranger to controversy from all sides of the political spectrum. His influence on Philippine society today runs profoundly deep, perhaps more positively for some than others. However, what is undeniable is that Quezon’s life and legacy are inextricably tied to our history as a sovereign nation, and is ultimately an important part of our national education. It is therefore necessary to critically examine how he was portrayed in the first film solely dedicated to him, Matthew Rosen’s 2018 9-time Luna Award nominated Quezon’s Game, a film so locally acclaimed that it even inspired the filing of a House Resolution for its “valuable contribution to enrich and enliven our Philippine history.”
Self-marketed as a Filipino Schindler’s List, Quezon’s Game traces the little known and barely documented story of how the Philippines became a safe haven for around 1300 Jewish refugees from Nazi Germany before the onset of World War II. The film places Quezon at the center of the action, portraying him as the primary force that gets everything done. He appears so involved in the proceedings that at one point in the film, he is shown on the verge of bawling in tears alongside Jewish cigar manufacturer Alex Frieder, as they cross out from a list the names of each refugee they won’t be able to save because of visa limitations, each name cross-cut with shots of their imagined executions. In a climactic moment a few scenes later, he is even personally welcoming the boats of refugees with his family, his daughter María telling them that they’re now finally home.
It’s all very moving on paper, but in practice, they distract from the fact that the majority of the dramatic events depicted in the film didn’t happen. What results is a needlessly distorted picture of Quezon that is so overly hagiographic to the point that it feels almost condescending to watch. In stereotypical fashion, his biggest flaw was loving the country too much and always wanting to do the right thing despite the costs. At one point he even suggests to his wife that he’d rather be remembered for rescuing the Jewish refugees than bringing independence to the country—because it would make him “someone who did something when everyone did nothing.”
Raymond Bagatsing, who plays Quezon, does as best as he can given the material he had to work with, his performance being perhaps what the film has most going for it. He plays the president with a charm and collectiveness that resembles well enough the images and videos of Quezon we have. If maybe, only slightly inconsistent with his accent. He’s definitely the standout among the cast, with most of the others playing standard melodramatic stereotypes. Aurora Quezon, for example, is introduced as a doting housewife suspicious of her husband’s relations with every woman he lays his eyes on. While the other Filipino politicians portrayed in the film are shown as solely self-motivated and selfish actors. Most prominent in this latter category is Sergio Osmeña, but also included are fellow presidents Manuel Roxas and Emilio Aguinaldo. They appear to serve as a contrast to the selfless and idealistic Quezon. Eventual American president Dwight Eisenhower, on the other hand, is featured quite positively and even prominently for his role in influencing Quezon’s decision-making, despite no actual documentary evidence that he had anything to do with the events of the film.
Raymond Bagatsing as Manuel L. Quezon on the left, David Bianco as Dwight Eisenhower at the center, and Billy Ray Gallion as Alex Frieder on the right.
It is true that the Philippines accepted 1300 Jewish refugees from Nazi Germany, but the film is misleadingly structured in a way that presents the whole affair as being carried on solely Quezon’s back. Ideally, more was needed to be said about the role of High Commissioner Paul McNutt, the Jewish Refugee Committee of Manila, as well as the broader context on the overall plans for turning Mindanao into “a new Palestine,” as historian Bonnie Mae Harris puts it. Another thing to consider is that a big reason why this was possible in this moment in time was specifically because of the Philippines’ unique position as an American colony, not mostly in spite of it, as the film suggests. Quezon was also in midst of seeking constitutional change to ensure his re-election while McNutt was angling to run for the United States’ presidency in the upcoming 1940 elections, factors that are probably worthy of more prominent note but are mostly absent in the film.
Well detailed documentation for all of these can be found in Bonnie Mae Harris’s Philippine Sanctuary: A Holocaust Odyssey (2020) and Dean Kotlowski’s Breaching the Paper Walls: Paul V. McNutt and Jewish Refugees to the Philippines, 1938-1939 (2009). Manuel L. Quezon III, the titular president’s grandson, has also put together a convenient timeline of events based on official documents and the accounts of various historians about what most likely happened, and he also has a great review of the film that highlights its many other historical inaccuracies and impossibilities. They are well worth a read if you want to learn more about the true story.
Despite all of this, however, Quezon’s Game often comes off so preposterous and heavy handed in its storytelling that it actually ends up seeming more cartoonish than particularly pernicious. At heart it feels less like an attempt to tell actual history and more like one clumsily dramatizing an interesting anecdote, perhaps riding on the same back of “creative license” that has traditionally been used to excuse poor research for many a historical film.
The problem is that this film was made and released in midst of the recent string of Jerrold Tarog’s historical dramas Heneral Luna (2015) and Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018). While Tarog’s films are not perfectly historically accurate, it’s clear how much they tried their best to be. Quezon’s Game, on the other hand, didn’t even seem like it tried. It doesn’t appear to just be a result of budget limitations because a lot of the events that they made up for the film happen indoors. Each one misleadingly shapes the ways in which we understand these historical figures. With such few films about Philippine history, it becomes much too easy to assume that each one meets an acceptable level of accuracy, that each one deserves to be taught in schools. Lacking this important distinction can have major implications on the development of not only how we understand history, but how we understand the politics of today.
If this was any other story, perhaps more leniency should be allowed, but this is the first major portrayal of one of the country’s most important historical figures. There must be some accountability towards accurate representation of history on the part of the producers and filmmakers, especially when this is likely going to be the first and hopefully not only introduction to Quezon that many students will meaningfully have. It doesn’t help that most of its aesthetic, setting, clothing, dialogue, and relationships are false, nor that the film is admittedly not very compelling, especially when too much of the action happens through the exchange of exposition over fat cigars, drinks, and poker in a period-inaccurate jazz club.
Raymond Bagatsing as Manuel L. Quezon in a nondescript jazz club playing poker.
Quezon deserves more. Osmeña deserves more. Filipinos deserve more. There is a great story somewhere in this film, an important one even. But really, how much longer should we be willing to allow heightened melodrama at the expense of reality? Don’t we get enough of that on the news? One of the primary problems afflicting the world today is the increased difficulty to make sense of what is true, what is propaganda, what is even happening. And of all the periods in history, now is not the time to heap praise on or make apologies for art that needlessly muddies historical fact, especially when it’s in order to paint a nearly flawless picture of a political figure, much more so for a president.
