If you choose any country, and spend enough time venturing off the beaten path, you are likely going to find that there are a wealth of stories hidden from view, but which are just as captivating and enduring as those which are more traditionally popular. There is a certain level of heroism that comes when a director chooses to tell stories of their native land, reflecting not the idealistic and successful aspects of a country, but rather those that are not always given the platform they deserve to have their stories told. There is a reason Lino Brocka is considered the greatest Filipino filmmaker of all time, and one of the first from his country to earn widespread global acclaim. His films are beautifully constructed, complex and incredibly insightful, and look at the plight of those living in The Philippines, particularly in conditions that are less than ideal. We’ve previously discussed his first masterpiece, Manila in the Claws of Light, which draws attention to a young man navigating the harsh urban landscape of the country’s capital as he tries to earn a living – and this is often considered as a duology with Brocka’s subsequent film, the quiet but complex Insiang, which covers similar narrative territory, but with a few distinct differences surrounding plot details and themes, looking at a range of new ideas through the director’s distinct and captivating gaze, which he constructs with nothing but the most sincere compassion for the story he is telling. Insiang looks at the life of the titular character, a young woman who has just reached adulthood, and who is forced to live under the watchful eye of a malicious, abusive mother who sees her daughter as nothing but a free-loading commodity, rather than her child – and over the course of a short amount of time, Insiang does her best to will her desires of freedom into becoming a reality, only to be met by several obstacles, which form the foundation for this urgent and compelling portrayal of one young woman’s search for social and psychological liberation.

When crafting Insiang, Brocka ventures deep into the heart of what appears to be Manila or another major metropole, and explores the dynamic between a mother and daughter, one that is far from the depiction of a loving family that we’d normally expect, but rather a hostile, heartbreaking depiction of two people who are only bonded by a familial connection, and who hold a deep disdain for one another, or at least what appears to be a very deep sense of unease in their relationship, likely brought on by trauma they experienced as a result of growing up in both poverty and in a broken family, with the patriarch having fled years before to start a new life with his mistress. The film essentially functions as an exploration of their relationship, which represents the lives of many working-class people at the time – they’re on a journey where survival is their primary goal, and where everything else is simply supplementary to the process of trying to live to see another day, which proves to be remarkably difficult based on their social and economic status. Gender is a fascinating subject when seen through Brocka’s perspective, and while is work is not always the most concise in terms of exploring these ideas (and often feel slightly heavy-handed, almost as if he is working too hard to emphasize the major themes of the story), there’s a value in the raw, unfurnished approach he takes, which compounds into this heartbreaking depiction of the steadily declining relationship between a daughter, who yearns for freedom, and a mother, who is vehemently against providing it, either for the sake of trying to maintain control over the only person in her life that she can exploit, or for the very clear fact that once Insiang has gone, she will have no one left in her life, which are conversations embedded deep within the fabric of this film, which feels like it is making some profound statements on the central dynamic, and all the similar relationships that some people have to endure before finding their freedom, whether physically or psychologically.

On the subject of trauma, Brocka has a very compelling way of tempering the emotions to feel effective but never inauthentic. This is a film clearly structured around a combination of lush melodrama, in terms of the emotions, and stark social realism, which comes about in the visual and narrative aspects of the story. Insiang is a very bare, but strikingly beautiful depiction of life in a working-class neighbourhood of The Philippines, one in which life is not easy, and everything has to be earned, including the bare necessities. It was important that the director found the right tone and didn’t become too excessive, even when a lot of the impact of the film comes in the form of the often violent confrontations between characters. The film may not always be subtle, and the emotions that define it are undeniably very strong, often bordering on hysterical – but it never feels anything less than wholly genuine, with his command over the story superseding any sense of excess that one could throw at the film. There’s a lot of nuance in how Brocka puts this film together, and the way he blends quiet realism with the strongest emotions is a credit to his ability to blend the two in a way that is meaningful and captivating, without needing to resort to excess in the way some of his imitators may have thought was necessary. Considering the scope of the story, and how actively heartwrenching the events that we see the character experiencing are, its actually quite surprising that he found the space for more quiet, meditative moments – but its the weaving together of many different ideas and the precise and striking execution of it that gives Insiang such a unique and captivating tone and allows it to tread through such difficult narrative and psychological territory in its continued pursuit of several incredible but disturbing ideas.

At the heart of Insiang are two memorable performances, that contribute as much to the construction of this story as Brocka does when forming the film. There is a relatively large cast, but with the exception of the leads, they’re merely supplementary, existing purely in service of the characters played by Hilda Koronel and Mona Lisa. The former has quite a challenge in terms of playing this character – Insiang is a young woman who yearns for a better life, free from the shackles of her family home and the various people who inhabit it, but rather than having the opportunity to express these desires, she constantly has to suppress them in fear of upsetting her volatile mother, who refuses to entertain even the slightest amount of deviation from the carefully-constructed domestic balance she has formed through nothing but fear and despair. Koronel is a revelation – she may have appeared in a few films prior to this (including three previous collaborations with Brocka, such as the aforementioned Manila in the Claws of Light), but this was her breakthrough, her stunning performance being a remarkable testament to her skills as a performer. Mona Lisa, on the other hand, was an established industry veteran, and arguably the most beloved Filipina actress of her generation – and while she was normally known for playing more endearing and heroic characters, her performance in Insiang (which is widely considered her crowning achievement, at least internationally) is one that is far more complex. She plays an abusive mother who secretly deals with issues of isolation and abandonment, which causes her to strike out at anyone who dares question her authority – and while it’s not the first time we’ve seen an effective performance of a flawed maternal figure, there is something so fascinating about how Mona Lisa approaches this character, developing her into a complex figure that is both representatives of a specific class of individual, and deeply ingrained in her own foolish delusions that interact with the more hopeful vision experienced by her daughter. These are two very complex, moving performances by terrific actors who define the film and assist in elevating it far beyond a very simple social realist parable.

Insiang is a miracle of a film, not only because it feels like a watershed moment in terms of Filipino cinema (which inarguably received a massive boost in recognition as a result of Brocka’s work, which represented a seismic shift in the country’s cinematic culture), but also due to the deep emotions that are present throughout the film, the likes of which are oddly difficult to encounter, especially at the time in which this film was made. There is nothing particularly revolutionary about the film, and it seems like a work that is more inspired by simplicity than it is by anything particularly unique. However, there’s an artistic integrity that fuels the entire production, and Brocka proves himself to be a very smart and shrewd filmmaker, carefully unpacking a number of complex themes, each one detailed and well-constructed, which contributes to the overall message of the film, which contains many cautionary warnings to the reality faced by the working-class, towards which the director had a very clear compassion. As a whole, Insiang is a complex character study that never avoids the difficult emotions, and chooses to explore the world in a way that is riveting and complex, and manages to be exceptionally well-constructed, feeling both intimate and sprawling at the same time. It’s the kind of film that works best when we surrender to the experience, allowing this disquieting journey into the plight of the downtrodden to overtake all sense of logic, and where the intricate details work together in tandem to feel utterly striking and frequently meaningful. As a result, it is not even vaguely surprising that Insiang is upheld as a pure masterpiece of Filipino cinema, and celebrated as one of the strongest works of working-class social realism ever produced.