The Kingmaker review – violent authoritarianism hiding behind absurdity

In this modern era of showboating morons taking up head of state positions, the Filipino strongman Rodrigo Duterte has, even by the standards of the last few years, put up an absurd façade. But behind these headline-grabbing nonsenses – he once claimed he had “cured” himself of homosexuality – lies a ruthless, wannabe dictator, behind which lies an even more sinister power. It’s this power, that of the human-rights-violating Marcos political dynasty, that Lauren Greenfield’s documentary The Kingmaker tackles. Here she sets her sights on clan matriarch Imelda Marcos, covering her life from her rushed wedding to future dictator Ferdinand Marcos in 1954, all the way to her more recent attempts to re-enter her family into the upper echelons of Filipino power.

The Kingmaker present us wth Imelda’s story slowly, initially introducing her as simply a formerly powerful – and still very wealthy – eccentric old woman with little-to-no self-awareness. In these early stages, Greenfield mines great dark comedy from her subject as Imelda clatters around her grotesquely tacky house and her servants try and make themselves invisible (an effort that looks downright farcical on camera). Here we also encounter some mind-boggling Freudian slips that earn big – albeit nervous – laughs, and it’s through these moments that The Kingmaker starts to pivot into something darker.

Imelda reveals herself to be the most dangerous kind of powerful person, and one who has entirely bought into their own propaganda. She genuinely sees herself as the mother/saviour of the Philippines, and Greenfield intercuts Imelda’s self-aggrandising to-camera testimonials with accounts from the people who suffered under her husband’s reign. The comedy is replaced by a seething anger whenever we meet anti-Marcos activists, who describe the horrors committed upon them in disquietingly clinical detail. Though these moments can be brutally effective, we’re eventually fed so many different perspectives across so many different time periods that the pace begins to slacken.

This is a less than two-hour film, but it seems a decent stretch longer than that. Part of its sluggish feel comes down to the rather pessimistic message The Kingmaker carries. Instead of committing to either outright rage or deadpan ridicule, the pervading mood is eventually one of disillusioned defeat. You’re left feeling that corruption and lack of consequences for the powerful are totally inevitable. And as true as this might be in the present moment, it’s a worldview that begins to drag when it isn’t balanced with the requisite comedy or fury.

The Kingmaker is undoubtedly fascinating, and a lot of its best scenes are hypnotically surreal – the Marcos family avoiding policy questions on the campaign trail by simply singing a patriotic song to rapturous applause is unforgettable, for example. Yet getting to these moments takes a lot of work. Those who stick with The Kingmaker, however, will find themselves duly rewarded by what ultimately proves to be an insightful, important, and very timely documentary.

★★★☆☆

By: Jack Blackwell

Get The Kingmaker showtimes in London.