Ramona S. Diaz’s latest documentary, AND SO IT BEGINS (2024), follows Former Vice President Leni Robredo's campaign during the 2022 Philippine presidential election. It seems to be a fitting addition to a potential Diaz Boxset with her earlier work, A THOUSAND CUTS (2022). The film attempts to provide an overview of the country's political landscape in the wake of Former President Rodrigo Duterte. At the same time, it captures the passionate support for Robredo and the rise of the Pink Revolution—a movement symbolizing hope, decency, and a collective push for change.

From the outset, Diaz sets the tone by showing a telecast of former President Duterte disparaging Robredo. Cut to a public speech where Duterte, in his typical fashion, makes a crude joke about Robredo's skirt, which gets shorter every time he sees her. This illustrates the stark contrast between Duterte's narcissistic vulgarity and Robredo’s dignified decency. As a storytelling technique, this is quite a great start. Such polarity establishes the core tension for the rest of the narrative, presenting not only the unpredictable nature of Duterte but also his followers' alarming tolerance of his behavior. Yet, while Diaz' opening scenes capture the divide between those who admired Duterte's strongman persona and those who rallied behind Robredo’s values, this seems to have diminished as the documentary unfolds.

AND SO IT BEGINS' most compelling aspect is its portrayal of the Pink Revolution. Diaz manages to capture a glimpse of the magic of this grassroots movement as it rapidly gains momentum. In it, we see artists, influencers, LGBTQIA+ members, and ordinary citizens under the Pink Flag engaging in door-to-door campaigns, flash mobs, feeding programs, and social media training for volunteer work.

Day after day, the spectacle of swelling crowds, with their power and appeal, takes center stage in Diaz’s narrative, consequently setting aside a deeper discourse on Robredo. While Diaz successfully documents the movement’s outward manifestations, her commentary falls short of delving into the environmental factors and contemporary Filipino psychology that fueled its growth, missing the opportunity to explore how word-of-mouth, personal reflection, and the collective yearning for change blended to create such a significant phenomenon.

The introduction of Maria Ressa, CEO and Founder of Rappler, adds another layer to the documentary. Diaz revisits Ressa’s struggles under Duterte’s regime, including the legal threats and cases filed against her and her team of young journalists. These moments echo the themes of A THOUSAND CUTS as they rekindle those familiar feelings of undeniable disgust and continuing frustration over the state of justice during the time of Duterte. However, while Ressa’s story is powerful and relevant, its inclusion presents an uneven focus compared to the exploration of Robredo and her opponents—who arguably deserve a deeper examination given the film’s subject matter.

Consequently, the film falls short in its political commentary. By focusing predominantly on Robredo’s campaign with an additional layer of Maria Ressa's story, Diaz misses the opportunity to present a balanced critique of the election. It overlooks her opponents' strategies, communication tactics, and psychological maneuvers, particularly Ferdinand "Bongbong" Marcos Jr., whose campaign was critical to the election's outcome. This unbalanced narrative limits the documentary’s ability to engage viewers in a broader discussion about the complexities of Philippine politics.

As a result, it soon becomes more of a nostalgic revisiting for those who participated in or supported the Pink Revolution than an analysis of the 2022 election. While it offers a poignant viewing experience, especially for those who hoped to see a return to decency, compassion, and freedom in the country, its impact is limited. The film preaches to the choir by connecting only with those already aligned with Robredo's cause but failing to reach and challenge a wider audience.

Don't get me wrong, dear readers. I did enjoy AND SO IT BEGINS, and I am glad to have seen it before it closes. I even regretted not having brought a tissue. But enjoying such an offering is only half the experience. A documentary like this, which deals with such political and social themes, deserves a critical viewing, at least. It should challenge us to think a bit deeper, ask more questions, and strive for a broader understanding of the complexities it presents.

To say that AND SO IT BEGINS is significant is arguable. However, to say that it offers a refreshing review of how we once hoped—and prompts us to revisit our current hopes—is quite acceptable. It feels like Diaz' love letter to us who have, once in our lifetime, carried the Pink Flag with yet another widow on the political stage, hoping for change, decency and good governance. That, in itself, is a good thing.

Yet, its lack of intensity and depth falls short of pushing us to continue the conversation, let alone encouraging others to revisit their perspectives. Diaz’s portrayal of Robredo’s campaign and the Pink Revolution is both inspiring and heartbreaking. However, the film’s shallow focus and unbalanced perspectives prevent it from achieving the broader and deeper engagements that such a subject matter demands.