Film Review
You can claim that any piece of history is somehow connected to you. I’ve seen countless historical stories, from war films to regency dramas and even biopics of some of the most prominent figures in world history. While these can give insight into the way things are today, I rarely relate to them on a personal level. They were too far from my reach, set in countries I have yet to set foot onS
That’s why a project like Magellan (2025) was important for me to see last January, when the film had its Victorian premiere at the Australian Centre of the Moving Image (ACMI). When it’s my very own origins shown on screen, there’s an instant connection that other films of the sort cannot create. Filipino director Lav Diaz takes on the task of transforming one of the most important events in Philippine history into film form.
The king of slow cinema returns with this contemplative recounting of the first recorded European expedition to reach what would later become the Philippines. The film follows Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan (Gael García Bernal) and the build-up leading to the journey that would cement him as part of Philippine history. Magellan is a slow and steady unfolding of the past, and it’s worth every long minute.
Watching Magellan was like seeing my school textbooks come to life. I’ve learned about this story since as early as first grade. Ferdinand Magellan came to what would become the Philippines, seeking to expand the Spanish Empire. We grow up with it — a history lesson about how our country came to be and the bravery of Filipinos who fought against the colonisers.
I found it interesting that the film also explores the years before the expedition: Ferdinand finding a wife, his life in Europe, and the grueling boat ride that eventually brings him to Philippine shores. It’s a fresh perspective that I never considered as a young student learning about my culture.
Once in the Philippines, Diaz paints a picture of what the early land may have looked like. Ancient Filipinos mill about. Their nipa hut homes, made of straw, stand proud among the pure greenery of the forest. Philippine history lessons come alive in Magellan. It’s immersive as it is authentic, exhibiting a powerful depiction of pre-colonial life.
However, this pre-colonial portrayal may make modern viewers uncomfortable. We are confronted with practices that can feel confronting through a contemporary lens. Magellan shows early Filipinos stark naked, long hair flowing, wailing to their anitos or deities to sustain their living. Animals are killed for sacrifice, their screams echoing. Herbal medicine is prepared, crushed leaves spread on bodies in the belief that it will heal.
The film portrays a way of life that differs sharply from today’s norms. Yet the absence of malice in the midst of these actions is not lost on me. This was once the norm, until outsiders arrived and declared otherwise. Underneath the peculiarity of it, there is beauty. To see, even in a re-enacted account, the raw nature of ancient Philippine culture is an insightful and eye-opening experience.
The Spaniards brought their collared clothes, tailored pants, white skin, and their own beliefs to a land already rich in its own culture. They arrived with force, leaving their imprint without consent. Ferdinand stands in the middle of it, bodies of indigenous Filipinos littered around him as he rests after a tough battle, debriefing with a peer over the events of the day.
The coexistence of life and death in shots like these is almost poetic — a visual metaphor for the nature of colonisation. Death surrounds the man at the centre of it. Ferdinand and the rest of his crew appear unperturbed. It’s silent. Nothing but the sounds of the natural world accompany the stench of massacred bodies.
Cinematographers Artur Tort and Diaz keep us at a standstill among the solitude. We’re left with no choice but to remain static as we peer through scenes of decimation. In this, Magellan displays the banality of evil in colonisation. It is a quiet dedication to kill for the glory of an empire that is not even truly yours.
With his films often lasting upwards of three hours, Magellan is on the shorter side of the spectrum. Yet Diaz still takes the time and care to let the story unfold. His style is fitting for historical epics.
Magellan reels us in, demanding our undivided attention and patience to bring us to a world we once had. At a time of instant gratification and shortened attention spans, the film feels like a form of resistance. It moves at its own pace to deliver a slow but impactful reflection on the horrors of colonisation.
There was no better person to tell this story than Lav Diaz. The conclusions drawn from this hours-long endeavour are rewarding.
Magellan, despite focusing on the explorer, does not frame him in any light other than the facts. He was a skilled participant in a colonial mission that reshaped Philippine history. The film does not give him a tragic past to justify his actions, nor a redemption arc to rewrite history. The normalcy of it all would almost be off-putting, if it weren’t for the understanding that this was the reality of the situation.
Magellan was part of an operation bigger than his personal motivations. He killed and conquered, with no regard for the centuries-long ramifications that would follow. To this day, we still live through the results of that encounter. The Spanish words woven into the sentences we speak are proof enough.
And while the film centres on Magellan’s perspective, it is by all means also a story of Philippine resistance and survival. Magellan is cinematic, authentic, and multilayered at every turn. The film serves as a modern reminder of our roots — one that future generations may continue to revisit.
