Century of Birthing

Century of Birthing is an introspective and profound film woven by renowned Filipino writer-director Lav Diaz. Released in 2011, the movie captivates its audience with a breathtaking narrative that unfolds over six hours, defying both the pacing and structural norms of traditional filmmaking. The film stars Perry Dizon, Angel Aquino, and Bart Guingona, whose performances are critical in enfolding the narrative's complex layers.

The film’s central narrative revolves around Homer, an enigmatic and troubled filmmaker (played by Perry Dizon), who self-exiles himself in a remote and deserted area in the Northern Philippines while he struggles to complete his film. Ironically, the movie he’s been obsessively working on is about the difficult journey of creation. Homer’s obsession with perfection progressively feeds his sense of disenchantment and inner turmoil, leading to a creative paralysis that mirrors his sense of disconnection with the world. His character embodies the existential crisis of an artist stuck in the whirlpool of his craft—questioning the very essence of his existence and his pursuits.

Simultaneously, Century of Birthing underscores another existential journey, that of a cult of uprooted women. Living cloistered lives under the stern watch of Father Tiburcio (played by Joel Torre), the women are seeking redemption in a remote part of the countryside, highlighting a gendered struggle for identity and liberation. With these parallel narratives, Diaz explores the raw realities of the human condition, creativity, and extremism while interrogating the structures that govern societal and personal life.

Angel Aquino plays the character of Trining, a cult member who questions the religious restrictions imposed upon them. Trining is the catalyst for rebellion, symbolizing the deep-seated human need for freedom. Bart Guingona, on the other hand, portrays Daniel, another filmmaker. His character is a contrast to Homer’s, showing a different side of the world of cinematography and creating a dynamic that forces the viewer to think about the concepts of creativity, possession, and the direction of one's life.

Lav Diaz's cinematic brilliance shines through Century of Birthing, as he deploys his signature long-takes and black-and-white aesthetic to narrate a tale that blurs the borderlines between fiction and reality, sanity and madness, freedom and coercion. The film's tranquility is paradoxically tumultuous, reflecting not just on the process of filmmaking, but also on larger issues related to history, society, oppression, religion, and desire, steeped in a uniquely Filipino context.

Long shots and extended sequences of everyday life are smoothly interlaced with deep philosophical dialogues, provoking the audience and encouraging them to confront their understanding of life and cinema. Diaz is not in a hurry to tell his stories, allowing the audience to fully grasp the rawness of every scene, every dialogue, and every emotion. Despite its duration, the film never loses its grip, maintaining its experiential intensity throughout its run.

However, Century of Birthing does more than just capture a filmmaker's inner turmoil. It is a thought-provoking commentary on the pervasive realities that shadow our society. It questions the constraints of religion, the devaluation of women and their roles, the price of blind faith, and the weight of the creative process—each narrative thread intricately tied by the shared exploration of the same themes.

In its entirety, Diaz's Century of Birthing is not just a movie; it’s an immersion into a deeply philosophical world that demands patience and openness from its viewers. The film challenges traditional narratives and pacing, asking profound questions about art, faith, and the struggles in between. With its multilayered narrative, stellar performances, and resolute contemplativeness, Century of Birthing takes its audience on a monumental and cerebral journey—reflecting on the cinematic experience itself while boldly questioning the structures and norms that govern our lives.