‘Alipato at Muog’: The Cinemalaya documentary about missing activist Jonas Burgos

At a restaurant in the Ever Gotesco mall in Quezon City, activist Jonas Burgos, son of press freedom stalwart Joe Burgos, who was mostly active during the Marcos dictatorship, was abducted by suspected military personnel. That was on April 28, 2007, under the Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo regime.

17 years later, Jonas, who became part of the underground movement in 1998, remains missing — a highly documented and one of the most telling cases of enforced disappearances in the country.

Such is the shape of the story behind Alipato at Muog, a documentary entry at this year’s Cinemalaya Philippine Independent Film Festival, now in its 20th iteration. The film is only the second full-length documentary to enter the festival’s main competition lineup, following last year’s Maria, directed by Sheryl Rose Andes.

“Since the day my family announced that Jonas was missing, we started shooting,” says director JL Burgos, Jonas’s younger brother. “Alipato at Muog will bring you to the very first time the search for Jonas commenced.”

“This means 17 years worth of materials are in the film. The materials are a combination of old mini DVD tapes, HD, and 4k footage which was shot in the recent timeline,” JL adds.

The director, also known for Portraits of Mosquito Press (2015) and Han-ayan (2017), has long been meaning to put the story of his brother’s disappearance to the screen, but says he “held it off” in hopes of “a happy ending,” only to find himself, alongside family members, still searching for justice, for closure.

“Reality told me this cannot wait any longer,” JL tells me. “Only a handful of people are telling the stories of the disappeared. If we do not make an effort, their stories, too, will vanish.” 

He adds, “Many of the younger generation no longer know any of the victims. I see the younger generation as the voice of the disappeared, or the voiceless. The voices against such violations should be noisy enough to make at least a dent.” 

Asked why this case, even after nearly two decades, remains urgent, JL says it’s because “we need to remember that enforced disappearance is a continuing crime.”

“As long as the disappeared remain missing, the crime is still being committed. It doesn’t matter to me if it’s 17 years or even longer, the crime is still being committed. Jonas is still missing, justice is yet to be served, and abduction still happens to this very day,” he points out. 

In anticipation of the film’s premiere at Cinemalaya this August 2, I spoke to JL Burgos about how the story is personal to him and how we should respond to the anxious state of human rights in the country.

This interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.

It’s only the second year that a full-length documentary film is among the entries in Cinemalaya’s main competition category. What was it like when you received the news? 

When I submitted the concept of my film to Cinemalaya, I didn’t know that a documentary (Maria) was already part of the 2023 Cinemalaya full-length main competition. So, I was pitching with the thought that a documentary film has not been able to crack the Cinemalaya roster. I was elated when I learned that Maria was part of the 2023 Cinemalaya main competition.

We all know that independent films lack avenues to be screened, much more with documentaries. So when I received the news that Maria and my film, Alipato at Muog, are part of the main competition, I felt proud that finally, documentaries are making strides in festivals here in the Philippines as it should be. We documentary filmmakers always say “docu represent!”

Pardon me for asking this, but considering how personal this story is for you, I wonder how you contend with possibly dealing with the trauma of your brother’s disappearance, while also recognizing the significance of his case, especially under another Marcos regime, and putting all that grief and tension to the screen.

You are correct, it is traumatic. Reliving the pain and frustrations took a toll on me at several points of making the film. I broke down several times while completing this film.

One more aspect that I have to deal with is the reluctance of people — who are either involved in the investigation, knew Jonas, or were witnesses to the crime —  to be part of the film.  Even if the case is 17 years old, people are still fearful of retaliation from powerful forces.

Families and loved ones of the disappeared don’t have a choice but to face such trauma. That is one of the effects of enforced disappearances. It is not only the disappeared who are the victims. The community where the disappeared belong to are victims as well. 

I believe that the reason why Jonas was abducted was to silence him. For me, there are two options: to speak up against the violations or to keep silent. I chose to speak out because if I don’t speak out I let the perpetrators win.  

When’s the first time you encountered a documentary film? What is it with the form that made you pursue it?

I’ve seen different documentaries when I was young but what stuck in my mind was the documentary called Signos, which is about the Marcos dictatorship and the people’s opposition to it. It was a collaboration of brave artists from the Concerned Artists of the Philippines. That was the first socially charged documentary I’ve seen.

I’ve always wanted to tell stories. Stories that tackle societal issues. For an independent filmmaker, the cost of making a film is always an issue. So I have to learn a way to tell a story that would be realistic for me budget-wise.

I have to learn (still in the process of learning) everything so I can do it all by myself: from pre-prod to production, to post-production. By learning how to do it, the cost would go down drastically. With that in mind, documentary filmmaking is the perfect choice for me. Content and budget wise. But I just want to make it clear that I’m not solely a documentary filmmaker, I am a filmmaker.

Among your body of work are films like Portraits of Mosquito Press (2015) and Han-ayan (2017), which also interrogate the human rights situation in the country. What made you gravitate towards such subjects?

I was a visual artist before I learned how to make films. I was part of a group called UGAT-Lahi, an organization of protest artists when I was younger. Now I’m part of an organization called Surian ng Sining, a group of cultural workers that caters to the marginalized sector of the society. That and my family background. My father is a staunch advocate of press freedom. He was jailed during the Marcos dictatorship. Human rights became a natural topic for me.

Was there any image or moment that stuck with you while you were working on the film?

Too many to mention. But if I have to pick one, it would be Jonas’s image. People have to watch the film for them to understand what I mean.

How different is it to document a story this close to you than stories of other people? Do you think film can radicalize a person?

When doing a film, I’m always invested emotionally even if I’m shooting stories of other people. With that said, filming other people [means] I can always go home and take a step back to calm myself down. In filming Alipato at Muog, there is no escape from the emotions that come with filming the whole movie. Even in my sleep.

Film and artworks in general can only do as much. Radicalizing people for me extends outside of cinema. Artists should be part of a bigger struggle outside of theaters, this is where artists and filmmakers can radicalize people.

How should Filipino filmmakers respond to the human rights landscape in the country?

I think, as a human being, everyone should make a stand against human rights violations, not only filmmakers. It is a collective responsibility of society. Everyone should aspire for a country with peace and justice. – Rappler.com