‘Republika ng Pipolipinas’ REVIEW: Too Real To Be Funny (But Still Is)
‘Republika ng Pipolipinas’ REVIEW: Too Real To Be Funny (But Still Is)
This review may contain spoilers.
Political satires and mockumentaries are just one of the few genres that remain underexplored in contemporary Philippine cinema. Most local political films we have tend to lean heavily toward socio-realist dramas, with their critiques delivered with barely enough humor or wit. Meanwhile, local mockumentaries are also quite rare (I mean, give me one example that isn’t Chris Martinez’s Ang Babae sa Septic Tank 3 or Antoinette Jadaone’s Six Degrees of Separation from Lilia Cuntapay)
This is why Renei Dimla’s Republika ng Pipolipinas feels like a breath of fresh air. One of the 10 official films that premiered at the 21st edition of Cinemalaya Philippine Independent Film Festival, this film blends sharp political satire with the mockumentary format to expose and critique the circus that is Philippine politics.
Cora (Geraldine Villamil) with her Pipolipinas flag in Republika ng Pipolipinas | Still courtesy of Cinemalaya
A good and effective satire should, first and foremost, target those in positions of power and not those vulnerable or marginalized groups. In today’s climate, we need political satire more than ever. I don't even want to get into the cesspool of issues we're facing right now, but the point is, we need more of them just to expose how ridiculous the government many people blindly support, and to reveal how its actions and decisions affect everyday lives. Although Republika ng Pipolipinas centers on a powerless farmer, seemingly at odds with the core purpose of satire, it remains effective because the lead character’s marginalized perspective exposes the absurdity and injustice of the very system that pushed her to the edges in the first place.
Cora (Geraldine Villamil) and Ekay (Natalie Maligalig) rest under a tree in Republika ng Pipolipinas | Still courtesy of Cinemalaya
The film follows Cora Vitug (Geraldine Villamil) and her decision to build a micronation called “Pipolipinas”, a place separate from the Philippines, because she has finally had enough of this godforsaken country. This draws mixed reactions from the local government and townspeople, many of whom dismiss her as a madwoman. Her only companions are her farm animals, whom she considers her “citizens,” and Ekay (Natalie Maligalig), a high schooler whom she practically raised.
Pipolipinas has no rules or regulations. It has no currency either; instead, Cora trades eggs and vegetables from her poultry and farm for essentials like rice, since her farm has been tampered with by someone unknown (though the culprit is too obvious). For her, this is utopia: simple, self-sufficient, and free from the noise of politics. But this fragile paradise soon faces threats as land grabbers attempt to seize her land and outsiders begin dumping garbage on her property.
Cora (Geraldine Villamil) in Republika ng Pipolipinas | Still courtesy of Cinemalaya
Given the current state of our country — all the corruption, the deceit, and the growing sense of hopelessness — it’s easy to understand why our lead character chooses to detach herself and build a separate nation. Her story becomes a tragicomic response to the chaos of a government that has repeatedly failed its citizens, including her. What makes it even more infuriating is that she is a farmer, one of the most vital yet most neglected members of society — someone who feeds the nation but is treated like garbage by the very system that depends on her labor.
This is a comedy, yes, but with all the harsh realities happening in our country, the film doesn’t feel funny anymore. We’ve lived through these experiences, and we’re still living them now.
The humor initially comes from Cora’s ignorance, leaving us uncertain whether to laugh or not. It initially pokes fun at her lack of education (the reason it’s spelled “Pipol” instead of “People” is because she doesn’t know how to spell it), which is off-putting at first, especially when we consider that people like her often lack access to education in real life. Still, this kind of humor is used sparingly, as the film mostly treats her with empathy.
Admittedly, I found it hard to adjust to the film’s first act. While it takes its time introducing Cora to the audience, where it spends nearly half of its runtime telling her backstory and the socioeconomic circumstances that lead to her decision to form her micronation, the road to get there feels a little rough, as most of its humor didn’t really land well for me. The film’s mockumentary format doesn’t feel too natural either, especially with its attempt to mimic those documentary-style “pauses,” which come across as awkward and forced rather than clever.
But the story truly takes off when a group of supporting characters (each representing different types of Filipino citizens today) enters the scene after hearing about Cora’s micronation and deciding they want to become citizens too. From there, the film grows even more ridiculous as these newcomers try to transform Cora’s utopia into something that looks and feels just like the Philippines all over again. But this wasn’t the case for the majority of the film, since it turns out they really did have good intentions after all.
Some of the residents of Pipolipinas in Republika ng Pipolipinas | Still courtesy of Cinemalaya
Villamil is magnificent in the lead role as she brings Cora to life with depth, allowing us to see and feel her struggles as a powerless Filipino. So much is communicated through her eyes, which carry the weight of years of Filipino hardship and the quiet defiance of someone who has finally had enough.
What really steals the film, though, is Alessandra de Rossi’s performance as an exaggerated version of herself. She embodies those celebrities who suddenly want to enter politics, making us question whether their intentions are genuine or simply for clout. Her performance reminded me of Eugene Domingo’s in Ang Babae sa Septic Tank with its sharp comedic timing and cartoonish flair. Whenever she appears, the film instantly becomes more engaging, and you can’t help but anticipate what she’ll say or do next.
Alessandra de Rossi and the residents in Republika ng Pipolipinas | Still courtesy of Cinemalaya
One thing this film also loves to do is tackle a wide range of issues, some of which are mentioned only in passing or barely explored, as if the filmmakers were simply checking it off a list: the dumping of international waste on local soil, the unjust arrests and red-tagging of activists, celebrities venturing into politics, corruption within local government units, land displacement among farmers, threats of demolition, bribery, and even references on Duterte’s “war on drugs” and the 1986 People Power Revolution.
A heated argument between Cora and the Barangay captain in Republika ng Pipolipinas | Still courtesy of CInemalaya
I didn’t really have any expectations about how the film would end or how they would even wrap it up. My initial thought was that they’d probably go for a safe ending where the corrupt politicians get exposed, thrown out of office, and suddenly everything’s okay again. But this film doesn’t do that. Instead, it gives us a plausible and very powerful ending where the ordinary people rise against the corrupt politicians still in power, capped off by a final shot so cathartic and memorable that you just want to stand up and applaud.
Indeed, “bayan” is not the government, but the people.
‘Republika ng Pipolipinas’ screened last October 3 to 11 at the 21st edition of Cinemalaya Philippine Independent Film Festival.
