The Slow Burn of Oppression: Lav Diaz’s “Let Us Through, Dear Ancestors”

Lav Diaz’s latest film, “Let Us Through, Dear Ancestors,” is a period drama set in 1617 Philippines. It’s a story about the exploitation and subjugation of indigenous peoples by Spanish colonizers, but it also explores power dynamics, cultural erasure, and the ongoing struggle for identity.

The film takes place nearly a century after Magellan’s ill-fated voyage to the Philippines. At this time, the Spanish had claimed the territory as their own, imposing their language, culture, and Catholicism on the native population. The Padre Enciso, played by Bart Guingona, is a complex figure who appears to be a holy man but is in reality power-hungry and exploitative.

Diaz’s approach to storytelling is deliberate and slow-burning, allowing the audience to absorb the nuances of each scene. This creates a sense of timelessness, as if the events unfolding on screen are happening in the present moment rather than centuries past. The black-and-white cinematography is meticulous and detailed, with a range of tones from brightest white to darkest black.

One of the standout characters is Babayeng Indimatadog, played by Isabel Sandoval. As a traveling healer, she represents a connection to the old ways and the natural world. Her interactions with the Padre’s men are tense and charged, highlighting the tension between cultural erasure and resistance.

Diaz often shows the lead-up to and aftermath of violent events rather than the violence itself. This deliberate choice forces the audience to consider the camera’s vantage point, particularly in the moment when Babayeng meets the camera’s gaze.

The film highlights the ways in which power dynamics are perpetuated through cultural erasure. The Padre’s attempts to impose his own culture on the native population and exploit local women for his gratification are clear examples of this. However, “Let Us Through, Dear Ancestors” also suggests that resistance and solidarity are key to dismantling these power structures.

Babayeng’s character is a powerful symbol of this, as she works to heal and connect with her community despite the efforts of the Padre and his men to erase their culture. Her story raises questions about the ongoing legacy of colonialism and its impact on our world today.

Ultimately, Diaz’s film is a slow-burning exploration of oppression that lingers long after the credits roll. Its themes and images are seared into your memory like a newly inked tattoo, leaving you to wonder: what does Babayeng see when she meets the camera’s gaze? Is it her god, her heaven, or perhaps us - her descendants - looking back at her through the lens of time? The answer remains unclear, but one thing is certain: Diaz’s film will haunt your thoughts for a long time.