Director Kip Oebanda’s LIWAY (2018) could probably be the best film you’ll see this year. It doesn’t disappoint. In it are aspects one may expect when you visit the cinema. As he narrates his own story, Oebanda orchestrates the narratives with watchful eyes, careful not to give too much, yet meticulously presenting all the needed details to pull you into the moviehouse's dark.

But what makes this film most compelling is Oebanda’s gift for storytelling. Within its scenes are fragmental visions of imagination, displayed brilliantly through shadow puppetry. We rarely see this device in our cinema – that perennial risk to offer something different, which Oebanda willingly takes and succeeds. Alongside this, we journey through Dakip’s playful and painful history. Though LIWAY uses the final years of the Marcos regime as its milieu, it avoids overdrawing a political agenda. Thus, allowing its audiences to weigh their facts against the film's narratives. Oebanda, working with co-writer Zig Dulay, weaves the narrative into a poignantly watchable film, dismissing melodrama yet emotionally strumming a chord or two as we go along.

As far as Dakip could remember, the only world he knows is inside the guarded walls of a prison camp. He was born and raised there with other political detainees and criminals. But it doesn’t matter to him at all. He lives with his parents, Day and Ric, who were former members of the CPP-NPA, now convicted dissidents and have been detained for years.

During her younger years, Day was known as Commander Liway, an influential rebel leader from the mountains, until she was captured and sent to prison. She was pregnant with Kip during that time. Now, with her son by her side, she tells him stories and myths to hide him from the painful realities of everything around them. Little does young Kip know that these myths are symbolic representations of the kind of regime they are in.

Something about Glaiza de Castro makes her Day/Liway compelling and deliriously captivating. She compels through her bright eyes and connects through the screen, which makes her so easy to root for. Despite the character’s concealed persona, de Castro shines in her silent moments, magnifying the depth of Liway’s past, hopes, and failures. As Liway sings in the dark of the night, de Castro renders heart-rending arias that pierce and enthrall. Worthy to note, too, is her singing voice.

The film opens with young people playing “hide and seek,” with Dakip as the “it.” When he begins to look for his playmates, Oebanda shoots in a continuous frame, following Kip while he searches a claustrophobically tight surrounding. At this point, we knew that everything that would follow would be from his perspective; this film will be about a young man in “search” for who he is and finding meaning in the guarded world he’s living in.

At this point, the film introduces Kenken Nuyad, a small-boned young man playing the role of Kip. He effortlessly commands the opening frame and consistently pulls through the center in his following scenes. With a milieu mostly perceived as dark and potentially tragic, Nuyad paints a cheerful color that we always look forward to seeing.

LIWAY also comes with an engaging ensemble of Filipino talents. Julie Bautista as Sister Isa blends so well with Oebanda’s subtle direction; careful yet moving, subdued yet attached. Dominic Roco plays Ric, who was somewhat subdued but ever present. Sue Prado’s Pinang is also something to look forward to. Wait for her breakout scene, which pierces the formerly insatiable and presents of the most heartbreaking moments in the film's center

Ah! Soliman Cruz as the Warden is a breath of fresh air. It is great to see him again on the big screen. With his toned-down performance that still manages to engage, Cruz reminds us how controlled action reactions can do so much for the screen.

Halfway through the film, Kip gets an opportunity to take a trip to the outside world to speak at a rally of protesters. As he steps outside the prison gates, the world grows more significant and greener. He sees a carabao and, for a moment, contemplates with awe at the white beast by the pasture. In the city, he eats at a mall and sees a mannequin. He greets it and expects a response.

At the prayer rally, Dakip makes his first public appearance. It is his first time seeing such a big crowd. He held the microphone, and for a few moments, there was silence. And then he speaks. “I saw a mannequin earlier today,” he says. “I thought that the people outside the camp were like mannequins. Silent and unmoving.”

At this point, one can see how innocence can reflect one’s truth. In Dakip’s enclosed world, he metaphors a harsh reality about apathy and denial, the most relevant to our society today.

Oebanda has already directed three other films before LIWAY. After receiving considerable acclaim from critics and filmmakers alike for his earlier films, he was consistently asked when he’ll run a movie about him and his mother’s history during the Marcos years. This, he only answered with “when I’m confident na as a filmmaker.”

In LIWAY, one can see how Oebanda’s confidence has crystallized through time. It is grounded from his past recollections of a world so tight you can’t help but not know every detail and remember so vividly. Though this one shines with depth and poignancy, it avoids the trap of conscious creation and politicized activism. Instead, it thrives on hard facts, something quite critical in our media today.

The film ends with Oebanda utilizing space and time to symbolize a heart-wrenching denouement. It is silent but wonderfully vast, full of meaning and absolute hope. As Kip moves from one point to another, one can’t help to whimper and sing out simultaneously.,

This film soon becomes an ode to the magic of stories and a continuing appreciation for life. Just by watching LIWAY, you will see how a son could offer such a wonderful gift for his mother. And by doing so, he exponentially presented such a contribution to a broader generation of moviegoers. It is a gift that consolidates recollected memories – both the joyful and the aching – and wraps them in the most engaging story that grips them as it touches them.

That makes the trip to the cinema all worth the while.