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There is an island of dying animals in the Philippines named Calauit that exists in its current state because of the unchecked opulence of Imelda Marcos . She wanted animals in the Philippines who weren't native to the country, and officials were bribed to make that happen. It is a perfect symbol for her insidious, egocentric, blinding greed in that it is the kind of landscape-changing thing people with power and wealth do without considering the consequences. Director Lauren Greenfield , our best filmmaker when it comes to documenting the extremely rich in movies like “ Generation Wealth ” and “ The Queen of Versailles ,” returns to this island a few times in her excellent “The Kingmaker,” recognizing how its almost haunted nature symbolizes the ghosts of the past of her subject, Marcos herself. Intercutting interviews with Marcos and her son with archival footage and other experts on the Marcos regime, Greenfield has put together a haunting reminder that those who have extreme power rarely if ever consider the consequences of their actions—in fact, they often think the word consequences shouldn’t apply to them. Take what you will from the film in terms of timeliness for the current American political situation, but parallels to unchecked power around the world feel intentional and add depth to “The Kingmaker.” We could all be on an island of dying animals if we’re not careful.

I have to admit to being concerned when “The Kingmaker” began. Was this going to be a reclamation project for a controversial political figure? Would we be shown that the public image of a woman with rooms full of shoes was really a complex leader? At first, it feels like an attempt to humanize Marcos, with early scenes of her throwing money at any problem, including children in a dilapidated cancer ward, although that quickly turns. If documentaries like “The Kingmaker” often makes their subject relatable, this film shines a spotlight on an insane degree of ego, corruption, violence, and gross greed. As the film goes on, Greenfield doesn’t watch Marcos continue to dig herself into a deeper hole, she keeps handing her bigger and better shovels. By the end, Greenfield has assembled one of the most insightful portraits of what is basically sociopathic behavior excused by wealth and privilege that a documentary has ever produced. 

Imelda Marcos would have you believe that her wealth was not only earned but good for the Philippines. She speaks in early scenes about how far Manila has fallen from her time in power; she hands out money to poor people; she laments the better times for her country under the power of her husband Ferdinand. Greenfield does allow for a bit of humanizing early on as we learn about the loss of Marcos’ mother at a young age and the emotional toll Ferdinand’s infidelity took on her. But one can almost sense the filmmaker starting to see through Marcos’ image control even in these early scenes. As she details the corruption that forced the Marcos regime to fall—by some estimates, the Marcos family stole $10 billion from its own people—she contrasts the false narrative that continues to be presented by her subject over and over again.

What emerges is a study in propaganda and revisionist history. Marcos would have you believe her husband was a great leader who helped his country, that her son is the future of the Philippines (legacy means the world to her), and even that she ended the Cold War. Greenfield starts to turn her camera away from Marcos and to the people who suffered because of the decisions made by her and her husband Ferdinand Marcos, and the result is harrowing and moving. When Greenfield gets to the horror stories of how political enemies were raped, assaulted, tortured, and killed, “The Kingmaker” becomes something less like “Queen of Versailles” and more like “ The Act of Killing .” And the filmmaking here is Greenfield’s best. Note how she films these scenes in sparse rooms and often with no score, allowing us to lean in and listen, contrasting them against the lavish rooms in which she speaks to Marcos.

“Perception is real, and the truth is not,” says Marcos. She is a master of denial and image manipulation to such a degree that it feels like she believes her lies. Corruption and fraud may be the “truth” but that doesn’t matter nearly as much as the image she presents for her people. It’s the “perception” that defines her, and it’s way more important than anything that could be considered true. Perhaps the most disturbing thing about “The Kingmaker” is that Marcos’ attempts to rewrite history seem to be working in some ways. And one could argue that image control led the country to where it is now under the Duterte regime. The story of the Marcos legacy isn’t over, but “The Kingmaker” is a major chapter in it, and world politics as a whole. 

Brian Tallerico

Brian Tallerico is the Managing Editor of RogerEbert.com, and also covers television, film, Blu-ray, and video games. He is also a writer for Vulture, The Playlist, The New York Times, and GQ, and the President of the Chicago Film Critics Association.

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The Kingmaker review – exquisitely horrible portrait of Imelda Marcos

The former first lady of the Philippines is revealed as a monstrous, loathsome, absurdly queenly figure in Lauren Greenfield’s superb documentary

L auren Greenfield’s film about the Philippines’ former first lady Imelda Marcos reveals a grotesquely self-pitying, wholly unrepentant and very rich woman, who has clearly still kept her hands on a great deal of the American aid money that successive US presidents once gave the Philippines in return for suppressing communism and civil rights and showing hospitality to US naval power – cash that she and her husband, Ferdinand, looted from the public purse and salted away abroad.

This was the larceny that finally got them booted out of office and briefly exiled in the 80s, but Imelda returned to her homeland as a widow, and is now trying to create a gruesome Marcos dynasty, led by her idiotic son, Ferdinand Jr (nicknamed “Bongbong”), and another daughter, Shee. They are minor politicians who are, to cite the TV show Succession, the Kendall and Shiv of this story, with waxy hatchet-faced Imelda very much the Logan Roy figure.

The Marcoses’ patent mediocrity and corrupted brand identity appear to have put serious political power out of reach for them, for now. But their resurgent cynicism and corruption created the conditions for Rodrigo Duterte, the quasi-fascist strongman president who is shown contemptuously tolerating the Marcoses for what they could yet do for him.

It seems at first as if this is going to be simply a black-comic portrait of entitlement, comparable to Greenfield’s 2012 film The Queen of Versailles . Actually, it is more than that: a larger, tragic picture of tyranny and corruption in the Philippines that might stand alongside Josh Oppenheimer’s The Act of Killing (2012) and The Look of Silence (2014) about the repression and slaughter in Indonesia.

There are exquisitely horrible moments in this portrait when Marcos, taking us around her fabulous Manila home, and speaking in an absurdly queenly and soft-voiced way about her lifestyle and her plans for the future, unknowingly reveals how loathsome she is. Or perhaps she does know and doesn’t care, and has a shrewd sense of how her outrageousness plays well with a certain part of her (sizeable) fanbase. But it is truly stomach-turning as she gives banknotes to poor little children in the street and, on being taken to a children’s cancer hospital, Madame Marcos winces with disgust at their poverty and suffering and says to an aide: “Give me some money to give away.”

Briefly, we are taken through her history: she was the former beauty queen who enjoyed a whirlwind romance with Ferdinand, the ambitious young politician. Once in power, Ferdinand was content to let Imelda go abroad to meet foreign leaders – there is an emetic shot of Mao kissing her hand. This was because he feared leaving the country in case he was toppled in a coup, and also wanted to pursue extramarital affairs. When Imelda discovered these, a certain hardness entered in her soul, making it even harder than it already was.

At their height, the Marcoses took the cash intended for roads, schools etc and converted it into jewels, paintings and prime Manhattan real estate, while striking brutally at civil rights, using detention and torture. Their rival, Benigno Aquino, was imprisoned, exiled and finally murdered, and his widow, Cory , was later to take over as president herself. There are wrenchingly emotional interviews with those who were detained and tortured under the Marcos regime. A grisly symbol of the corruption is the bizarre wild animal reserve that Imelda created on Calauit Island, a vanity project that involved moving hundreds of families off the land, and whose giraffes are now not properly cared for – like everyone and everything else.

For all that Marcos has to be one of the most purely objectionable figures in public life anywhere in the world, she is not a fool and occasionally reveals shrewd insights about herself. She notes how cordially she was received internationally and smirks: “Sometimes it helps that you are not taken too seriously.” Later, with regard to her blandly conceited image management, she remarks: “Perception is real, but the truth is not.”

• Documentary films
• Philippines
• Asia Pacific
• Lauren Greenfield
• Imelda Marcos

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Oxford University Press's Academic Insights for the Thinking World

The Kingmaker is a movie about Imelda Marcos that snubs earlier documentary

The Proximity of Other Skins

• By Celine Parreñas Shimizu
• November 2 nd 2019

My thrill in seeing Ramona Diaz’s film  Imelda  (2004), streaming for free online this month, was dampened by the hype surrounding a new film about the former first lady of the Philippines.

I was puzzled to read about  The Kingmaker  (2019) by Lauren Greenfield, touted for its “unprecedented access” ( Showtime ) by a filmmaker “perfect” for the subject ( Variety ). Frankly shocked at the blatant erasure of Ramona Diaz’s pioneering access to Imelda Marcos, watching Greenfield’s film becomes a reckoning. When white people themselves are sick of watching white movies in this era of #OscarsSoWhite, and the demand for diversity so urgent and universal in the industry, it’s not a matter of whether they should make films about brown people, but how.  The Kingmaker  is a wish that Ramona Diaz’s film does not exist, effacing a brown woman’s excellence in an industry known for its inequity.

How should white people make movies that represent others, and how does Greenfield fall short? In one of the earliest scenes in  The Kingmaker,  we see the preserved body of Ferdinand Marcos shot from different angles in his mausoleum. Ramona Diaz was the first feature filmmaker to shoot in this hard-won location. It is the very site where Imelda first says that “here lies love” will be etched into her gravestone. As she leans over her dead husband, saying he is Filipino and she is love, we witness a moment that encapsulates Diaz’s greatness as a filmmaker: her ability to gain access to such previously unseen sites and compel the articulation of a gargantuan vision of self. Diaz had to shoot here hurriedly, but since then, the mausoleum has opened to other filmmakers. Greenfield shoots there with several set-ups, moving lights and camera as if possessing all the time in the world—clearly thanks to the door Diaz opened. The claim, then, to “unprecedented access” is just one erasure of Diaz’s career-launching film; the many repeated moments and motifs in The Kingmaker  are another.

Movies, like books, meet a need, a hunger, and a reason for why they should be made when they are. According to my interview with Ramona Diaz in 2017, she got access to Imelda because she desired attention she no longer enjoyed as first lady. The film reveals how she continued to seek power for herself and her family. In  The Kingmaker , Imelda reprises herself from 2004, saying she is “missing the clout of being first lady” and wants “to vindicate the family honor.” Greenfield’s film then ends up simply reenacting much of Diaz’s  Imelda  as if it had not already been made, and to acclaim.

What the repetition actually shows is how the filmmakers achieve different degrees of intimacy with Imelda herself: Diaz reaches closeness to Imelda while Greenfield’s access reveals a kind of distance from her subject. For example, Diaz reveals how Imelda speaks like a broken record to suppress reality. She captures how “beauty,” Imelda’s most oft-repeated word, is part of a strange cosmology in her mind that involves the peace sign and Pac-Man. Greenfield’s film incorporates that repeated use of “beauty” but stays peripheral to the depths of her subject’s delusional worldview.

In another example,  The Kingmaker  repeats the story of how Imelda brought diamonds and diapers into exile, but presents it as a life-saving decision to generate the millions they would need to pay their lawyers, thereby recasting it as a lucky impulse when they fled. In Diaz’s film, however, we watch Imelda casually disclose how she was able to escape with her 11-carat and 70-carat diamonds. Diaz’s film thus reveals a different perspective: the theft that must have occurred for the first lady of a poor country, whose husband was paid an annual salary of $13,000, to have such valuable rocks in the first place.

The   Kingmaker  is strongest when it repeats the material from  Imelda ; otherwise, it struggles to find focus. One new story this film does tell is how the Marcos’s displaced 250 families from an island to make way for African zebras and giraffes to be transported there, though that story alone is not enough to make the film unique. As an artist celebrated for her career focus on wealth, Greenfield could use that status and her platform to confront and account for globalization and colonialism, even implicating Americans in propping up the dictatorship. Pretending that  Imelda  does not exist in re-enacting it, however, is a travesty that reveals the onus should be on white filmmakers to help open doors for brown filmmakers, rather than further obscure them.

The   Kingmaker ’s derivativeness defies its status as “unprecedented.” Does that description circulate because it is a white person who made the movie? Is the author “perfect” because she has made similar films about the decadence of delusional rich white people before? Critics—who themselves are predominantly straight, white, able-bodied men—also play an important role in this discourse, in which the perspectives of people of color and women are less privileged, whether in giving credit to filmmakers or considering how images hurt. But it does not have to be this way.

To return to my original question: how can films by white people about brown people, in this age of #OscarsSoWhite, provide an example of ethical filmmaking that does not harm, as the erasure and recolonizing of Diaz’s film and subject does in this case? In other words, how can they avoid what celebrated Filipina American writer Gina Apostol has called Greenfield’s “Columbusing” of Diaz? An ethical filmmaking is appropriately citational; it gives credit and mentions others to amplify those other voices, especially when white filmmakers are telling brown people’s stories. This is what an ethical act of representing others entails: considering unequal access to representation and acknowledging the important, though less visible, work that has paved the way. And critics, too, must historicize films they celebrate so as not to erase brown women’s excellence in the films they’ve already made.

Editor’s Note: Ramona Diaz was the first feature filmmaker to access Ferdinand Marcos’ mausoleum, not the first person to ever shoot video there. The post has been updated accordingly. In addition, we have updated Professor Shimizu’s bio to reflect her professional relationship with the filmmaker Ramona Diaz.

Photo:  President and Mrs. Lyndon Johnson and President and Mrs. Ferdinand Marcos at the White House  via US Library of Congress

Professor Celine Parreñas Shimizu is Director of the School of Cinema at San Francisco State University and author of  The Proximity of Other Skins  (Oxford University Press, 2020),  Straitjacket Sexualities  (Stanford University Press, 2012), and  The Hypersexuality of Race  (Duke University Press, 2007). She also co-edited  The Unwatchability of Whiteness  (ADVA, Brill, 2018) and  The Feminist Porn Book (The Feminist Press, 2013). Professor Shimizu has acted as a consultant for the filmmaker Ramona Diaz.

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Diaz’s film gives a chance for the viewer to make his or her opinion. It is up to you if you think Imelda is Evil or not. You are right! Diaz made sure she knows her subject very well. It is not a film to judge her subject. This other film is a trying hard bad copy cat. And judgemental from a white filmmakers point of view. She made this film to make money for herself…in as much as her subject is accused of the same thing. It is almost like a propaganda film to attack a 90 year old woman who ‘s story has been told and retold…and in her trailer where she films Imelda saying” perception is real…and the truth is not” sounded like that s her motto in life…where as what she meant was…the perception of her and her family that the media and their haters created of them was real for those who believe what they want to believe rather than to know the real truth….so for those who judge you for what is written about you rather than really searching for the truth. Takes truth for granted. As Imelda often says…”a bullet will kill you once…but the media can killl you for all eternity.” But good or bad publicity is publicity. I guess Imelda will always be in the limelight…and film makers still capitalize in making money out of her misunderstood image… Tho for me this is not filmmaking “ART”…it is a political propaganda…bullying a 90 year old woman who already was disgraced, humiliated, and punished to this day for crimes that has not be proven in Almost 30 years of non stop court cases both in the USA and in the Philippines… were they found nothing! No Skeletons! Only Shoes! A woman who is still moving on with whatever time is remaining in her life…At 90 Imelda out lasted everyone…now that s the truth….

I think this is a gross overstatement and a total misattribution of motive that on the part of the producers of Lauren Greenfield’s work. Films are remade all the time. Each one of them boasts “unparalleled, exclusive access.” That’s spin. It’s PR pure and simple. My films have been remade by others. I don’t like it but there’s nothing I can do about it. I hold on to my content and make it relevant as long as I can. But most of all, it has nothing to do with my color or my gender or anything about me at all if someone tackles the same subject matter as me. It has to do with the fact that the number of new ideas out there is limited and that, especially in the case of a marquis name like Imelda Marcos, that someone would make another film about her is entirely predictable. Diaz had a good run with her film for a long time. That Greenfield would approach the same subject matter has nothing to do with Diaz’s sociological or biological profile, it had to do with the fact that she had a good idea and eventually someone came along and did the same thing. Isn’t imitation the best form of flattery?

This entire article could best be described as “play the race card, quickly!”I wonder, have you even seen the film, because the information you have gleamed could just as well be had from watching the trailers.

Nina Seavey – you miss the point completely. Shimizu here is talking about attribution and erasure of voice and claiming work as pioneering when it is not. Not about whether Greenfield should or should not have remade this film, but HOW. How does a white privileged filmmaker ethically tell stories of brown people? That is what is being discussed here. And the claims are unprecedented access – not unparalleled nor exclusive. There is a difference. You may call it spin but Shimizu prefers to call it what it is: a lie. It is not true. To call lying spin is in itself spin.

I’m going to reply directly to Nina Seavey’s comment:

In this context, no it is not.

Imitation will not render equity to POC filmmakers who have their stories re-packaged by non-POC filmmakers.

I emphasize “their stories” because Ramona Diaz is a Filipina-American telling a story that is deeply rooted in the Filipino/Filipino-American experience today.

Lauren Greenfield is presenting a Western (read: outsider) perspective on the matter and that distinction is important, especially in the marketing.

Novelty of ideas in documentary filmmaking is not a compelling motive to Columbus somebody else’s work, of which marketing and PR spin is plenty capable of doing.

The whole point of the article was to make an argument towards creating a more ethical documentary filmmaking environment by citing and crediting existing works that newer films find footing on.

And to Aaron:

I don’t think you read this article for more than a few seconds, so I wouldn’t be so quick to toss such meaningless drivel into the mix.

Try watching the trailers and reading the article again, maybe you’ll be able to say something useful next time.

Don – If you draw your logic out to its logical conclusion, we could never make films about anyone but our own selves! That’s ridiculous. Of course its ethical for anyone to tell any story that he or she wants to. There is no material that “off limits” because of race, creed, color, gender, or any other category or qualification. I want to be able to tell stories about men, about people and peoples long dead and gone, about cultures whose world I enter and explore. My color and gender and ethnicity inform my thinking but they do not disqualify me from the inquiry. To suggest otherwise is intellectually bereft.

And Don – Again, respectfully disagreed. A remake by anyone does not “silence” the previous storyteller. It’s a story, told by a different filmmaker at a different point in time, told by someone with her own point of view. That seems to me to be what filmmaking is all about – a multiplicity of voices each sharing his or her own perspective. One does not obviate another. Ramona’s film was excellent, but it was made almost 15 years ago. Why not have a fresh gaze on the material??? Imelda Marcos is an endlessly interesting character and there are more ways to explore her than just one.

[…] expanded her insight in a blog published by the Oxford University Press, where she noted how “The Kingmaker” dismissed […]

Nina Seavey – it is totally fascinating how you refuse to get the point of this blog. Again, it is the claim that this new film is pioneering work by claiming unprecedented access when it is not. And NOT whether she should or should not make this film. This logical conclusion you speak of is not logical at all. Read the blog again.

And I wonder if you’ve seen the new film. It rehashes most of Diaz’s 2004 film, down to the opening shot of Imelda in her van. The claim of this new film is that it reveals that the Marcoses are back in power. However, Diaz’s film ends with the children winning political office. And the song over the closing credits – “I Just Can’t Get Enough” – in Diaz’s film says it all. They have been back in power for years. I wonder what you mean by fresh take? Again, before you get all defensive about who can make what, this is a critique of the film itself and not a statement that Greenfield should not have made this film.

After going through Prof. Shimizu’s criticism of Kingmaker and reading through these comments, I was motivated to do some quick research and…something’s not quite right here…

Let’s start with the participants on this comment thread. Many of them seemed to be the same person. Judging from the similar defensive language and condescending tone, I suspect most are the author herself.

Most peculiarly, the very first comment made the same day that the article was published is by a “David Monico”, who like Shimizu quickly attacks the filmmaker’s motives. However, when I searched his name, I discovered that his last online appearance was praising Ramona Diaz’s Imelda movie in 2007 on a PBS.org board. That is a pretty BIZARRE coincidence, don’t you think?…so I dug deeper.

I then discovered on her webpage that Prof. Shimizu is “a consultant to Ramona Diaz”. She is also writing about Ramona’s film work in her upcoming book, and has had a relationship with Diaz going back at least 9 years. I also found online that Prof. Shimizu and Ramona Diaz retweeted each other’s tweets of this same article multiple times. Those all seem like pretty important disclosures for an academic to include in a film critique of a related work, especially one that attempts to put down one film in favor of another, Ramona Diaz’. To omit one of these things might be understandable, but to not acknowledge ANY connection is highly suspicious imho.

“Those who self-righteously upbraid the documentary as flawed because a white person directed it are utterly mistaken. The Kingmaker is about opposing the return of a parvenu vulgar elite, which, in Imelda’s words, “loves a strong leader.” It is a fight in the name of the poor and the powerless. It is a struggle for democracy’s sake.” – Professor Abinales, Asian Studies Program, University of Hawaii at Manoa

Total nonsense being spouted by Prof. Shimizu in her opening argument against Laura Greenfield and The Kingmaker (disclosure, I have watched both films). Madame Imelda has been granting media access to this mausoleum and photo-ops with her dead husband since his death in Hawaii in 1989. Don’t believe me, just google it. There are photos going back many decades of this exact situation. Not “hard won”. Why lie about something so easy to disprove?

My post keeps getting deleted. I guess Professor Shimizu doesn’t want people to know that her claim about Ramona Diaz’s “hard-won” access to the mausoleum is completely false. Madame Imelda has been granting media access to this photo-op situation since the death of her husband in 1989. Don’t believe me? Google it. Why is Prof. Shimizu lying about something that is so easy to disprove?

I should add that I have watched both films and while Diaz’ was more of a soft-peddle bio-pic of the Madame, leaving the viewer with the impression that she was a little nutso and essentially harmless, Greenfield’s film was brutal by comparison in revealing Imelda’s true character, her political canniness, and the real and present danger that she poses to democracy in the Philippines. (hope this post makes it through the censors)

False narrative #1 – Celine Shimizu wrote “Ramona Diaz was the first one to shoot in this hard-won location” (mausoleum with Marcos body)…… really? I think the AP would beg to differ (cut to AP footage from 1996). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y4zOlmz8gT8 #smearcampaign

This recently inserted OUP statement is also a lie – “Ramona Diaz was the first feature filmmaker to access Ferdinand Marcos’ mausoleum, not the first person to ever shoot video there.”

MANY crews, both TV and film crews, shot in this location with multiple cameras and with lighting prior to Ms. Diaz. A glaring example is the 1997 documentary “Batas Militar” which shot this very scene many years prior. (watch the last scene of this award-winning documentary FILM). That Shimizu and Diaz (and OUP) cannot admit to such a bald-faced lie goes to the very heart of the dishonesty employed by them, not only with this disingenuous post but also with the entire origin story of Diaz’s film, “Imelda”.

Additionally fascinating to see all of the information coming out in recent insertions made quietly by OUP. That the author, Professor Shimizu, is acknowledging that she is a consultant to Ramona Diaz. Actually, the relationship is clearly personal as evidenced by twitter posts (see @cinediaz and @celineshimizu on twitter) made to/in concert with each other. This entire post is itself evidence of academic wrong-doing by Shimizu and further undermines the veracity and trustworthiness of her review.

“I found out she (Ramona Diaz) was making a film out of the story of the “Untold Story of Imelda Marcos” while recasting it in interviews and a spin as if the story were being told for the first time…That Ramona Diaz can say such a barefaced lie in front of TV cameras only reinforces the belief that she is being less than truthful when she denies that her film documentary was done to rehabilitate the image not just of Imelda, but the Marcoses as a dynasty.” – Carmen Pedrosa (Author, Untold Story of Imelda Marcos)

Don Wisk, what is truly fascinating is how Professor Shimizu uses the same absurd argument in her latest book, “The Proximity of Other Skins”, only this time accusing singer David Byrne of stealing the Imelda story from Ramona Diaz, and failing to give Diaz any credit for being the first person to discovered Imelda Marcos! Just, wow! All the while, conveniently omitting that Diaz herself stands accused multiple times over by famed Imelda biographer and fellow Filipino, Carmen Pedrosa, of having stolen, without any accreditation,*her* storyline and subjects directly from Pedrosa’s biography, “Untold Story of Imelda Marcos” for Diaz’ documentary, “Imelda”. Attacking Lauren Greenfield and David Byrne of the very thing that her friend, Ramona Diaz, was previously accused of doing way back in 2004?! Holy hell! The duplicity of all involved in the writing of this post is mindboggling.

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