‘Manila’s Finest:’ When cinema stops distracting and starts asking

There are films you walk out of smiling. There are films you quote. And then, there are films you leave carrying many things.

“Manila’s Finest” belongs firmly in the last category.

I’ve been covering entertainment long enough to know that the Metro Manila Film Festival (MMFF) is often defined by what it gives audiences during the holidays: relief, laughter, spectacle and escape. And there is nothing wrong with that. But every once in a while, a film arrives that doesn’t want to entertain your exhaustion, it wants to confront your memory.

Directed by Cannes-winning filmmaker Raymond Red, “Manila’s Finest” enters the MMFF not as an anomaly, but as a challenge: Are we still willing to sit with discomfort? Are we ready to look back without romanticizing the past?

Enrique’s final scenes as Lt. Billy Ojeda have been described as emotionally brutal.

The film starts in 1969, a period that quietly but deliberately precedes martial law, and follows a group of policemen navigating power, loyalty and morality in a Manila that feels hauntingly familiar. What makes “Manila’s Finest” unsettling is not just its historical setting, but how little distance there seems to be between then and now.

Ashtine Olviga has become a revelation for many cinephiles, portraying her character Agnes Magtibay as ‘raw’ and ‘startingly mature.’

This is not a film that shouts its message. It doesn’t spoon-feed conclusions. Instead, it does something far more dangerous: it asks questions and leaves them ringing in your ears long after the credits roll.

A Cannes-winning director enters the MMFF not to entertain our escape, but to confront our memory, our silence and our responsibility as Filipinos.

One viewer posted on X that they walked out of the cinema “with more questions than answers — in a good, unsettling way.” Another recalled overhearing an elderly woman say that what she saw on screen was “exactly how things were” during her high school years. That moment alone says everything about why this film matters.

Directed by Cannes-winning filmmaker Raymond Red, ‘Manila’s Finest’ starts in 1969, a period that quietly but deliberately precedes martial law. The film follows a group of policemen navigating power, loyalty and morality in a Manila that feels hauntingly familiar. What makes ‘Manila’s Finest’ unsettling is not just its historical setting, but how little distance there seems to be between then and now. Photos above show the police characters of Piolo Pascual, Enrique Gil, Joey Marquez and Romnick Sarmenta on and off screen.

Because “Manila’s Finest” is not historical cosplay. It is a lived memory.

Much has already been said about how the police are portrayed in the film and rightly so. The characters played by Piolo Pascual, Enrique Gil, Dylan Menor, Cedrick Juan and the rest of the cast are not caricatures. They are layered, flawed, sometimes terrifyingly ordinary men who wield authority in ways that slowly, almost casually, cross the line.

What makes this portrayal powerful is its restraint. Abuse of power is not framed as a shocking anomaly — it is shown as something normalized, rationalized and justified in the name of order. Scene after scene forces you to ask: When did protection turn into oppression? Was there ever a clear line?

It’s uncomfortable to watch because it feels familiar. Painfully so.

Several viewers have described the film as “frustrating,” “infuriating” and “hard to sit through.” Those are not criticisms. Those are testaments. Films that matter are not meant to soothe; they are meant to disturb complacency.

And perhaps that’s why “Manila’s Finest” lingers.

Piolo’s presence anchors the film with quiet authority. There is no grandstanding here, no cinematic heroism. What he delivers instead is restraint and an understanding that power does not always raise its voice.

Meanwhile, Ashtine Olviga has become a revelation for many cinephiles. Reviews have consistently singled her out, calling her performance raw, fearless and startlingly mature. For viewers who knew her primarily from younger-skewing platforms, “Manila’s Finest” is a reintroduction. This is an actress stepping fully into her craft.

Enrique’s final scenes have been described as emotionally brutal and not because they are loud, but because they are honest. They sit heavy. They refuse to resolve neatly.

These performances don’t ask for applause. They ask for reflection.

There is a reason that Kapatid network is doing a heavy legwork to get the word out there about the film. It’s because it offers a different kind of viewing experience but with a message so crucial it hopefully reaches farther.

But also, beyond its artistry, the “Manila’s Finest” story has sparked something rare: organic conversation.

From sold-out block screenings organized by fans to mall tours where cast members sing soundtracks and personally thank audiences, to online calls demanding more provincial cinema schedules, what is happening isn’t just promotion. It’s participation.

There are audiences who aren’t just watching the film; they’re advocating for it.

Viewers from Bacoor, Imus, Malolos, and beyond have voiced out on social media that the film isn’t accessible in their local cinemas. Cinephiles are calling for international screenings, saying the film deserves to be seen beyond Philippine borders. Teachers are bringing students. Older viewers are recognizing their past. Younger viewers are discovering history not from textbooks, but from lived emotion.

That’s when a film stops being a product and starts becoming a conversation.

“Manila’s Finest” stands out in the MMFF landscape because it refuses to distract. It mirrors. It reminds. It asks audiences to connect dots between past and present without explicitly telling them how.

And perhaps that’s its greatest strength.

In a time when entertainment is often reduced to noise, this film trusts its audience to think. It trusts Filipinos to handle complexity, discomfort and moral ambiguity. It assumes we are ready to engage and not just consume.

There is a growing call for “Manila’s Finest” to be shown in more cinemas not out of entitlement, but urgency. Because films like this do not age quietly. They become references. They become reminders. They become warnings.

As one viewer put it, “We should stand for truth, justice and righteousness.” That line may sound idealistic, but after watching this film, it feels necessary.

“Manila’s Finest” doesn’t tell you what to do. It doesn’t claim moral superiority. What it does is far more powerful: it wakes something up.

And sometimes, awakening is the first step toward accountability.

This Christmas season, amid the lights, noise and celebration, “Manila’s Finest” dares to pause the party and ask: What do we remember? What have we normalized? And what are we willing to confront?

“Manila’s Finest” isn’t asking us to clap — it’s asking us to remember.