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"Ode to Duterte: A Director’s Lens by Darryl Yap
Rodrigo Duterte has been one of the most controversial figures in Philippine politics, a president who shattered the conventions of governance and communication, blazing his own path through the rigid corridors of power. In "Ode to Duterte: A Director’s Lens," filmmaker Darryl Yap offers a provocative reflection on Duterte, capturing both the boldness of his leadership and the friction it created within the elite circles of society and art.
A Disruptor in the Political Scene
To Darryl Yap, Duterte represents a radical shift in the nation's political landscape, a leader who not only rejected tradition but actively deconstructed it. He didn't just emerge as a politician, Yap asserts—he rewrote the entire narrative, creating a new kind of leader who dismissed decorum, disdained foreign interference, and gave voice to the masses. For Yap, Duterte is not merely a man who led; he is a force of nature who unapologetically represented a more primal, unrefined reality.
The political establishment, with its rehearsed speeches and polished rhetoric, viewed Duterte’s brashness with disdain. The director likens Duterte to a plot twist, an unexpected change in the story arc of the Philippines. The president’s unfiltered, often vulgar, language resonated with the common Filipino but repelled the liberal elite. While others clung to tradition, Duterte was busy breaking the mold, and Yap—an artist who thrives in chaos—embraced him for it.
An Artist's Rebellion Against Conformity
Darryl Yap’s view of Duterte mirrors his own experience in the art world. As a filmmaker, Yap has faced criticism for going against the grain of mainstream artistic trends, choosing instead to create work that challenges, disturbs, and disrupts the norm. In this sense, Duterte became the political embodiment of Yap’s artistic philosophy.
For Yap, many artists rejected Duterte because he represented the antithesis of the progressiveness they championed. To these artists, Duterte was a villain, a figure who refused to follow the rules of propriety and civility. Yet Yap, undeterred by the threat of backlash, chose to stand by Duterte. In his words, “Wala akong pakialam” (I don’t care). This attitude, one of defiance against the mainstream, encapsulates both his support for Duterte and his own approach to filmmaking. Yap is unafraid of polarizing views, welcoming the hate and opposition he knew would come with endorsing such a divisive leader.
In a landscape where critics thrive on anti-Duterte sentiments, Yap finds the genuine fear isn’t Duterte himself but the idea that another Duterte—a disruptor, a rebel—might rise again. This possibility threatens the established systems that the elite wish to preserve, and Yap sees this fear as a key element of the ongoing political tension in the country.
Duterte as the Antagonist of Tradition
Duterte’s presidency, much like an antagonist in a film, forced the nation to confront uncomfortable truths and evolve. Yap views antagonists as necessary for driving narratives forward—without them, there’s no change, no growth. Duterte was no hero, Yap concedes, but he disrupted the stagnant political story that had long governed the Philippines.
Where the political elite saw vulgarity, Yap saw truth. Duterte’s raw, unrefined approach to leadership may have been unsettling, but it was closer to reality than the airbrushed narratives typically spun by politicians. Duterte didn’t just flip the table—he burned it down and dared the country to rebuild it. This radical approach resonates with Yap, who as a filmmaker rejects the idea that art should be predictable or palatable. Like Duterte’s presidency, Yap’s art aims to disturb, provoke, and force viewers to reevaluate their perspectives.
A Complicated Legacy
The final part of Yap’s ode is a lament over the perceived burying of Duterte’s legacy, not by the public, but by Ferdinand Marcos Jr. (Bongbong). Yap acknowledges Duterte’s role in securing a dignified burial for the late Ferdinand Marcos Sr., an act that symbolized Duterte’s alignment with the strongman legacy. Yet, ironically, Yap sees Bongbong as someone who is now burying Duterte’s memory, distancing himself from the populist wave that carried him to power.
This paradox—Duterte honoring Marcos Sr., and Marcos Jr. seemingly burying Duterte—reflects the ongoing struggle over political narratives in the Philippines. Yap’s unwavering faith in Duterte and his belief that the president’s legacy will endure is the core of his argument. For Yap, Duterte’s impact cannot be erased, no matter how much the current administration tries to distance itself from his controversial reign.
Conclusion: An Ode to Defiance
In "Ode to Duterte: A Director’s Lens," Darryl Yap positions himself as both an artist and a political observer who thrives on the tension between order and chaos. Duterte, for him, is not just a former president—he is a symbol of rebellion, a political artist who disrupted the national narrative with raw authenticity. As much as Duterte’s critics deride his leadership, Yap sees in him a kindred spirit: a fellow disrupter, unafraid to challenge the status quo, unafraid to create something new from the ashes of the old.
Yap’s tribute to Duterte is more than just praise for a political figure—it’s a manifesto for those who embrace change, for those who refuse to play by the rules of the establishment. Through his director’s lens, Yap immortalizes Duterte as a complex antagonist whose legacy will continue to provoke, challenge, and shape the country long after his exit from the political stage.
Duterte is a game-changer. A plot twist in the nation’s history that no one saw coming. He didn’t just walk onto the political stage—he tore down the backdrop and rewrote the script. He doesn’t bow to anyone, least of all the United States, no matter how many times they tried to co-direct. And while the neoliberal elite sneer at his brashness, pretending their polished lines are the only dialogue worth hearing, he gave the masses their own voice, raw and unfiltered.
As a filmmaker, I’ve felt the weight of rejection—exiled from the safe comfort of art circles that reward predictability and pander to the status quo. Artists, most of them, can’t stand Duterte. To them, he’s the villain who refuses to follow their storyboard of propriety and progressive ideals. But I’ve always embraced the chaos. I’ve never been afraid of shaking the frame, tilting the narrative, and letting the ugly truths play out. So, when it came to Duterte, I stood my ground, fully knowing that my support would attract more enemies.
WALA AKONG PAKIALAM. In this industry, where applause is often conditional—where endorsing him could mean being blacklisted—I didn’t flinch. The critics with their curated outrage, they thrive in the age of Duterte-hating, awarded like festival darlings for their clever disdain. But I knew their real fear: it wasn’t just Duterte. It was the possibility of another Duterte emerging, someone unmanageable, unscripted, untethered to the old ways. As a director, I understand the importance of antagonists. They force the hero to evolve, disrupt the arc, and push the story forward. Duterte was no saint, but he disrupted a stagnant narrative. Where others saw vulgarity, I saw something closer to truth—something you can’t cut or edit to make palatable.
What they fear most isn't just Duterte himself—it’s the legacy he leaves behind. A legacy that makes them uneasy. Because in their carefully staged productions, they want predictability. They want the kind of character who asks permission before flipping the table. Duterte flipped it, burned it, and dared everyone to rebuild it from scratch. And maybe that’s what drew me to him. Like me, he never played it safe. We both understand that art—real, honest art—doesn't aim to please. It disturbs, provokes, and challenges the way you see the world.
Now, as I continue to love the father and daughter of Davao—while also loving Imee—my faith in PRRD remains intact. Duterte made sure FEM was laid to rest with the honor he was denied for years— Ito at marami pang dahilan kung bakit nananatiling nasa tabi ni Inday si Manang.
Yet now, Bongbong—his own son and namesake—seems more focused on burying his legacy than preserving it. It was Duterte who secured FEM’s dignified burial. Ironically, it’s Bongbong who appears to be burying not just his father, but the memory of everything he stood for. Ipinalibing ni Duterte si Marcos Sr. Pilit inililibing ni Jr. si Duterte, pero hindi mangyayari."
Rodrigo Duterte has been one of the most controversial figures in Philippine politics, a president who shattered the conventions of governance and communication, blazing his own path through the rigid corridors of power. In "Ode to Duterte: A Director’s Lens," filmmaker Darryl Yap offers a provocative reflection on Duterte, capturing both the boldness of his leadership and the friction it created within the elite circles of society and art.
A Disruptor in the Political Scene
To Darryl Yap, Duterte represents a radical shift in the nation's political landscape, a leader who not only rejected tradition but actively deconstructed it. He didn't just emerge as a politician, Yap asserts—he rewrote the entire narrative, creating a new kind of leader who dismissed decorum, disdained foreign interference, and gave voice to the masses. For Yap, Duterte is not merely a man who led; he is a force of nature who unapologetically represented a more primal, unrefined reality.
The political establishment, with its rehearsed speeches and polished rhetoric, viewed Duterte’s brashness with disdain. The director likens Duterte to a plot twist, an unexpected change in the story arc of the Philippines. The president’s unfiltered, often vulgar, language resonated with the common Filipino but repelled the liberal elite. While others clung to tradition, Duterte was busy breaking the mold, and Yap—an artist who thrives in chaos—embraced him for it.
An Artist's Rebellion Against Conformity
Darryl Yap’s view of Duterte mirrors his own experience in the art world. As a filmmaker, Yap has faced criticism for going against the grain of mainstream artistic trends, choosing instead to create work that challenges, disturbs, and disrupts the norm. In this sense, Duterte became the political embodiment of Yap’s artistic philosophy.
For Yap, many artists rejected Duterte because he represented the antithesis of the progressiveness they championed. To these artists, Duterte was a villain, a figure who refused to follow the rules of propriety and civility. Yet Yap, undeterred by the threat of backlash, chose to stand by Duterte. In his words, “Wala akong pakialam” (I don’t care). This attitude, one of defiance against the mainstream, encapsulates both his support for Duterte and his own approach to filmmaking. Yap is unafraid of polarizing views, welcoming the hate and opposition he knew would come with endorsing such a divisive leader.
In a landscape where critics thrive on anti-Duterte sentiments, Yap finds the genuine fear isn’t Duterte himself but the idea that another Duterte—a disruptor, a rebel—might rise again. This possibility threatens the established systems that the elite wish to preserve, and Yap sees this fear as a key element of the ongoing political tension in the country.
Duterte as the Antagonist of Tradition
Duterte’s presidency, much like an antagonist in a film, forced the nation to confront uncomfortable truths and evolve. Yap views antagonists as necessary for driving narratives forward—without them, there’s no change, no growth. Duterte was no hero, Yap concedes, but he disrupted the stagnant political story that had long governed the Philippines.
Where the political elite saw vulgarity, Yap saw truth. Duterte’s raw, unrefined approach to leadership may have been unsettling, but it was closer to reality than the airbrushed narratives typically spun by politicians. Duterte didn’t just flip the table—he burned it down and dared the country to rebuild it. This radical approach resonates with Yap, who as a filmmaker rejects the idea that art should be predictable or palatable. Like Duterte’s presidency, Yap’s art aims to disturb, provoke, and force viewers to reevaluate their perspectives.
A Complicated Legacy
The final part of Yap’s ode is a lament over the perceived burying of Duterte’s legacy, not by the public, but by Ferdinand Marcos Jr. (Bongbong). Yap acknowledges Duterte’s role in securing a dignified burial for the late Ferdinand Marcos Sr., an act that symbolized Duterte’s alignment with the strongman legacy. Yet, ironically, Yap sees Bongbong as someone who is now burying Duterte’s memory, distancing himself from the populist wave that carried him to power.
This paradox—Duterte honoring Marcos Sr., and Marcos Jr. seemingly burying Duterte—reflects the ongoing struggle over political narratives in the Philippines. Yap’s unwavering faith in Duterte and his belief that the president’s legacy will endure is the core of his argument. For Yap, Duterte’s impact cannot be erased, no matter how much the current administration tries to distance itself from his controversial reign.
Conclusion: An Ode to Defiance
In "Ode to Duterte: A Director’s Lens," Darryl Yap positions himself as both an artist and a political observer who thrives on the tension between order and chaos. Duterte, for him, is not just a former president—he is a symbol of rebellion, a political artist who disrupted the national narrative with raw authenticity. As much as Duterte’s critics deride his leadership, Yap sees in him a kindred spirit: a fellow disrupter, unafraid to challenge the status quo, unafraid to create something new from the ashes of the old.
Yap’s tribute to Duterte is more than just praise for a political figure—it’s a manifesto for those who embrace change, for those who refuse to play by the rules of the establishment. Through his director’s lens, Yap immortalizes Duterte as a complex antagonist whose legacy will continue to provoke, challenge, and shape the country long after his exit from the political stage.
Ross is known as the Pambansang Blogger ng Pilipinas - An Information and Communication Technology (ICT) Professional by profession and a Social Media Evangelist by heart.
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