Here lies Philippine cinema—a cultural institution once committed to reflecting the country’s understated realities and challenging societal prejudices, now fading from the consciousness of the very people it once sought to represent.
Philippine cinema has often been described as “dead” or “dying,” with critics blaming the industry’s decline on uninspired storytelling, subpar production value, and embarrassing acting. However, with over 150 films locally produced in 2024 alone, is the industry really dying? Or are we burying it alive, suffocating it with a lack of genuine support?
For many Filipinos, Philippine cinema begins and ends with Vice Ganda’s slapstick comedies and KathNiel rom-coms, reinforcing the belief that the industry has little to offer beyond formulaic plots and overly commercialized entertainment. Yet, while mainstream films dominate local theaters, independent Filipino films earn recognition and praise on international stages.
Martika Ramirez Escobar’s Leonor Will Never Die earned the Special Jury Prize for Innovative Spirit at the World Cinema Dramatic Competition of the 2022 Sundance Film Festival in the United States. Ma-an L. Asuncion-Dagñalan’s Blue Room won the Best Foreign Film Award at the 19th LA Femme International Film Festival in 2023. Most recently, Carl Joshua Papa’s Iti Mapukpukaw, celebrated for its unique rotoscope animation style, won Best Feature Film at the 17th International Animated Film Festival in Poland. These films prove that Philippine cinema can compete at an international level, but it is ironic how they struggle to find audiences at home. Filipinos are not entirely to blame for this, though.
For one, regular movie tickets can cost an average of P350—an amount driven up by rising inflation, inadequate minimum wage, and the imposition of the amusement tax. Malls with cinemas cater primarily to middle to upper-class audiences, leaving the broader general public excluded as cinema has become a luxury for most Filipinos who must prioritize basic needs over entertainment. The limited accessibility is further exacerbated by significant hurdles in local distribution, which hurts independent filmmakers, especially if these films are from lesser-known genres and feature no well-known actors.
Many local films disappear after their limited cinema runs, with few opportunities for re-screenings or digital distribution. While some are released digitally on YouTube or streamed through online platforms, independent works often struggle to secure these avenues due to financial constraints. Unlike mainstream productions backed by major studios, smaller films rarely have the funds to negotiate streaming deals or sustain long-term digital availability. As a result, many independent films have little space to thrive.
Even during the 2024 Metro Manila Film Festival (MMFF), films with unconventional concepts struggle to gain visibility. Pepe Diokno’s Isang Himala was shown in only 31 cinemas nationwide, restricted by its genre as a musical and its absence of box-office stars. Zig Madamba Dulay’s Green Bones faced a similar fate, screening in only 40 cinemas despite winning Best Picture. Diokno himself had to publicly urge audiences to watch and explore other MMFF films beyond commercial blockbusters like And the Breadwinner Is…, Uninvited, and The Kingdom.
This disregard for local cinema mirrors a deeper industrial indifference toward the film arts. Supporting Philippine cinema means supporting local storytelling, acknowledging our shared history, and celebrating the complexities of the Filipino identity. More than watching moving pictures on a screen, it is about recognizing creativity as something vital to our cultural fabric.
There is no shortage of film festivals that offer great alternatives to the usual commercial pictures in mainstream theaters. Even with the wide and extensive use of streaming platforms where many have access to hundreds of films at their fingertips, what good are these if the audience who can resonate with these stories is unable to see them?
The reality is that Filipino cinema is not dead—it is left to decay; buried alive, beneath neglect, misaligned priorities, and a public conditioned to think that Hollywood-style mainstream blockbusters are the only films worth their time. We can criticize the Philippine film industry all we want, but if we continue to ignore and dismiss the very art form that challenges the country’s conventions while capturing its essence, then we, as an audience, become complicit in burying it alive.
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s March 2025 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSMarch2025.
