New series explores the human cost of the Philippine drug war
The crime drama “Drug War: A Conspiracy of Silence” opens with a disclaimer that it’s merely inspired by real-life events. Still, it makes no attempt to hide whose drug war it portrays.
The pilot episode cuts back to 2016 and features a video clip of former President Rodrigo Duterte making a pronouncement to eliminate illegal drugs. Statistics on the brutal campaign’s death toll are flashed onscreen. Early scenes show police officers scouring poor neighborhoods, knocking on doors to extract names, and rounding up suspects at a basketball court.
Fear is a weapon of silence
While this exposition may be perceived as a critique of the Duterte administration, and is likely to invite backlash from his supporters, the cast and creatives behind the series accept this as a natural offshoot of telling the story.
“Alam namin na maaaring kasama ‘yon. But as storytellers and as filmmakers, kapag natakot tayo sa backlash, hindi natin maikukwento ‘yong katotohanan na gusto nating iparating,” director Shugo Praico says in a talkback session after a recent private screening of the six-part series’ pilot episode. It’s expected to announce its release date and streaming platform in the coming weeks.
“As one of the characters says, ang takot ay isa sa mga maaaring maging weapon para mapatahimik tayo,” he adds.
Produced by Rein Entertainment, “Drug War” follows Fr. Tom Carillo (played by Ian Veneracion), a priest who runs a rehabilitation program in his parish on a sleepy island. However, his resolve and idea of justice are tested by the arrival of Kiko Agustin (Harvey Bautista), a traumatized teenage boy fleeing Oplan Tokhang after it claimed a loved one’s life in Manila.
Soon, an unfamiliar police presence arrives in the community, threatening Fr. Carillo’s advocacy for recovery and reform, and putting his name on the line. Now, left with nothing and shaken by Kiko’s sudden passing, the fallen priest teams up with a guilt-ridden cop, Yana Macabeo (Jane Oineza), to expose a conspiracy tied to his protege’s death and, ultimately, to the Philippine drug war.
Polarizing subject
The subject is as emotionally charged as it is political. And while some actors shy away from potentially divisive material, Bautista didn’t think twice about accepting the role of Kiko.
“Walang hesitation at all… I felt like, personally, this is a very important story that I would be very proud to be part of,” he tells Lifestyle Inquirer. “Kahit na may worry or takot about what we want to tell, bashers and negative feedback shouldn’t stop us from telling stories that can educate people about this tragic thing that happened.”
Meanwhile, Veneracion owes his decisiveness and commitment to the series to his lack of any specific political affiliation. He’s not interested in personalities and patronage, he says, but in systems and policies. As such, he can take on any project simply because something within him compels him.
“It’s a story of my people. It’s part of our history, so I know I have to do it justice,” says the actor, who describes playing Fr. Carillo as “a heavy and emotional journey.” “It was almost a relief once we were done filming, and I no longer needed to see the world through his eyes. Masakit sa puso.”
A confluence of issues
Much of the first episode depicts the war on drugs from Kiko’s perspective and lays out the circumstances that precipitate drug use, or as Bautista puts it, “why some people fall into that slippery slope.” It also puts the realities of rehabilitation into perspective: how some manage to overcome addiction and why others fall back into it.
But as the series progresses, the story’s scope is expected to expand and include other perspectives that frame the drug war as a complicated confluence of issues such as politics, impunity, police brutality, poverty, mental health, and religion.
These stories will be told through different characters—victims and those caught in the crossfire: a mother who loses a child, a town leader forced to choose between his community’s and his own safety, a police officer convinced of their mandate after witnessing the effects of illegal drugs firsthand.
Sparking difficult conversations
Through this approach, “Drug War” hopes to urge viewers to open themselves to stories that may challenge or contradict their own beliefs. “During our interviews, we heard different truths people were coming from,” Praico says. “Minsan sinasarado natin ang mga mata and tenga natin kapag ayaw na nating makinig.”
Echoing Praico’s sentiments, Bautista adds: “Despite my knowledge of what happened, there were still details I found in the script that surprised me…Some people remain in the dark about certain events; perhaps they chose not to pay attention then. But I hope this show changes that.”
After all, the series isn’t meant to dictate what people should think or offer solutions, but to “spark bigger conversations,” Veneracion says—however difficult those may be. Or, at the very least, Praico hopes the show helps people remember what that part of our history was like.
And with Duterte facing trial at the International Criminal Court, the series’ exploration of the drug war’s human cost couldn’t be more timely.
