A Tale of Golf, Heat, and Capitalism

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The Sundance Film Festival’s World Cinema Dramatic competition has become increasingly noteworthy over the last ten years. While these films don’t always generate the same level of hype as other Sundance premieres, I’ve consistently discovered some of my favorite movies within this section – films like The Things You Kill (2025), Girls Will Be Girls (2024), This Is Not a Burial, It’s a Resurrection (2020), The Sharks (2019), This Is Not Berlin (2019), and My Happy Family (2017). However, many people likely haven’t heard of them. Despite the growing strength of its international film selection, Sundance still largely caters to a U.S. audience, both independent and mainstream.

Rafael Manuel’s Filipiñana feels like a unique and captivating newcomer at the Park City festival. It stands out with its precise, stylized approach, offering a refreshing contrast to more conventional, heartfelt films. It’s a movie that demands your full attention and willingness to observe—not because it’s slow or confusing, but because it’s constructed entirely from carefully considered details. (Influential director Jia Zhangke produced the film and mentored Manuel, who also worked on Jia’s recent acclaimed film, Caught by the Tides.) In Filipiñana, even small things—like the way a golf club is held, a piece of fruit lying on the ground, or a simple look—can be surprisingly suspenseful, moving, or breathtaking.

I just saw this film, and it’s really stuck with me. It unfolds over a single day at this gorgeous golf course just outside Manila – think perfectly kept greens and meticulously trimmed trees. But the director, Manuel, immediately creates this unsettling feeling by cutting back and forth to the bustling, chaotic streets of the city, where people are waiting in the sweltering heat just to get water. The very first shots of the golf course are of sprinklers quietly watering the vast, empty lawns – it’s this bizarre contrast, because while the golfers worry about dehydration, there’s water everywhere you look. And there’s so much food, too – mangoes are falling and rotting, getting run over by golf carts. The club’s employees, all dressed in these matching uniforms, move around like robots, and you quickly learn that a lost golf ball is worth more than their labor. There’s a moment where someone points out a dying pine tree – it’s not even a native tree, brought over by Americans, just like golf itself – and says it’ll be replaced with an identical one. That’s when it hits you: the same disposable logic applies to the people who work there.

The film centers on Isabel, a 17-year-old who works at a golf course, meticulously setting up golf balls for players. Though quiet and thoughtful, she occasionally indulges in small pleasures – a stolen mango, a taste of cake – hinting at her longing for home in Ilocos. The story follows Isabel as she’s asked to return a golf club to Dr. Palanca, the country club’s wealthy owner, who also happens to be from her hometown. Dr. Palanca offers her help, suggesting a possible path to a better life. As Isabel searches for him within the club, she encounters various environments that gradually expose the hidden exploitation and harsh realities within that world.

The movie also follows Clara, a young Filipina American visiting from New York. She’s out golfing with her uncle, who owns a golf company, and he’s really passionate about getting talented Filipinos to return home and contribute to the country. Honestly, Clara seems a little detached – she senses something isn’t quite right with the people around them, a feeling of being used, but she doesn’t really push it or say anything. It’s like she’s aware, but not quite uncomfortable enough to act, which is a really interesting dynamic.

Though not explicitly about politics, the film Filipiñana is deeply concerned with power dynamics. Director Kidlat Tahimik creates a sense of unease through careful attention to visual details, sound, and composition, transforming the seemingly peaceful golf course setting into something unsettling without sacrificing its beauty. The film follows Isabel as she moves from lush outdoor spaces to strange, dreamlike interiors – a visual style made possible by shooting across eight different golf courses in the Philippines. Everything appears calm and perfect, but beneath the surface, there’s a growing sense of something sinister. Small details hint at potential violence: Isabel fears being hit by a golf ball, and a casual comment about the pain only reinforces her anxiety. The recent death of a golfer from heatstroke and the strict monitoring of employees by security further contribute to this unsettling atmosphere.

Ultimately, Filipiñana isn’t actually about golf, despite taking place almost entirely at a golf course. The film’s slow pace and relaxed atmosphere mirror the sport itself. What really stands out is the feeling of artificial calmness and the way this country club seems to control every aspect of life. The more perfect everything appears, the more unsettling it becomes.

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2026-01-24 03:56