This review may contain spoilers
A City Losing Its Footing.
Manila’s Finest is a gritty, atmospheric crime thriller set in Manila in 1969, a city on edge amid rising crime, political unrest, and looming social change. Directed by Raymond Red, the film follows a group of Manila Police District officers navigating turf wars, gang violence, and a growing sense that something far darker is at play. What begins as street-level crime — illegal gambling, prostitution, and rival gangs — gradually exposes deep-rooted corruption involving powerful businessmen, politicians, and even the police themselves.
Running at 119 minutes, the film is written by Michiko Yamamoto, Moira Lang, and Sherad Anthony Sanchez, and balances police procedural tension with intimate human drama. At its core, Manila’s Finest is less about heroism and more about moral compromise, loyalty, and the cost of integrity in a city rapidly losing its footing.
Piolo Pascual anchors the film as Capt. Homer Magtibay, a seasoned but flawed officer trying to hold the line as the world around him shifts. Enrique Gil plays Lt. Billy Ojeda, his younger, idealistic partner whose restlessness hints at rebellion and poor choices. Ashtine Olviga stands out as Agnes Magtibay, Homer’s activist daughter, embodying the generational clash between authority and resistance.
The ensemble is strong across the board: Cedrick Juan is quietly menacing as Metrocom officer Danilo Abad, Romnick Sarmenta and Joey Marquez provide texture and sharp wit, Ariel Rivera brings dignity as the outgoing station chief, while Rico Blanco unsettles as his abrasive replacement. Rica Peralejo’s return to acting as Magtibay’s wife adds emotional weight, while Jasmine Curtis-Smith, Paulo Angeles, Dylan Menor, and Ethan David round out a cast that feels lived-in and purposeful.
The film opens with a patrol — squad car #014 cruising Manila’s streets as news of Gloria Diaz and the moon landing crackles over the radio — immediately grounding the story in its moment. From there, tensions rise as the Philippine Constabulary Metrocom begins encroaching on local police operations, mirroring real historical power shifts. Gang rumbles, student protests, and internal power struggles converge, leaving Magtibay squeezed from all sides — professionally and personally.
Magtibay himself is no saint. He’s violent when it suits him, unfaithful despite presenting as a family man, and too quick to threaten force. Yet the film never excuses him — nor does it demonise him outright. Instead, Manila’s Finest presents a world where there are no clean hands, only varying degrees of compromise. The police aren’t heroes here; they’re a flawed boys’ club barely holding together as history moves against them.
This is where the film quietly pulls the rug out. What looks like a nostalgia-tinged period cop movie is actually something bleaker: a portrait of institutional decay and the slow march toward Martial Law. The irony of the title is deliberate and relentless. The story offers little triumph, lingering instead on despair, inevitability, and the unsettling sense that resistance — from police or protesters alike — may already be futile.
Technically, the film is assured. Red’s cinematography is striking, full of energy and texture, while the production design is meticulous — from the MPD interiors to riot shields repurposed from woven rattan. The edit could be tighter, and the soundtrack’s reliance on mournful kundiman rather than ’60s rock feels like a missed opportunity, but these are minor quibbles in an otherwise immersive experience.
I caught Manila’s Finest at an advance screening — never one to say no to a free movie — and was genuinely pleased to spot friends like Sue Prado among the police ensemble, and Elijah Canlas in a brief cameo. I’ll admit I came in curious about Dylan Menor, and he didn’t disappoint. The film stayed with me long after the credits rolled, not because it entertained, but because it made me think — which is perhaps its greatest strength.
By the end, history becomes impossible to ignore. We know how this period ends, and the weight of that inevitability is crushing. Manila’s Finest isn’t an easy Christmas watch, but for those willing to sit with its discomfort, it’s a complex, sobering, and quietly powerful film — one that reminds us how quickly systems fail, and how those failures continue to echo today.
The question I left the screening with — and one I managed to ask the cast — was this:
Is the film suggesting that the police lost their dignity and effectiveness because Metrocom undermined and sabotaged them, leaving them powerless to push back?
Manila’s Finest doesn’t offer easy answers — and that, perhaps, is the point.
Running at 119 minutes, the film is written by Michiko Yamamoto, Moira Lang, and Sherad Anthony Sanchez, and balances police procedural tension with intimate human drama. At its core, Manila’s Finest is less about heroism and more about moral compromise, loyalty, and the cost of integrity in a city rapidly losing its footing.
Piolo Pascual anchors the film as Capt. Homer Magtibay, a seasoned but flawed officer trying to hold the line as the world around him shifts. Enrique Gil plays Lt. Billy Ojeda, his younger, idealistic partner whose restlessness hints at rebellion and poor choices. Ashtine Olviga stands out as Agnes Magtibay, Homer’s activist daughter, embodying the generational clash between authority and resistance.
The ensemble is strong across the board: Cedrick Juan is quietly menacing as Metrocom officer Danilo Abad, Romnick Sarmenta and Joey Marquez provide texture and sharp wit, Ariel Rivera brings dignity as the outgoing station chief, while Rico Blanco unsettles as his abrasive replacement. Rica Peralejo’s return to acting as Magtibay’s wife adds emotional weight, while Jasmine Curtis-Smith, Paulo Angeles, Dylan Menor, and Ethan David round out a cast that feels lived-in and purposeful.
The film opens with a patrol — squad car #014 cruising Manila’s streets as news of Gloria Diaz and the moon landing crackles over the radio — immediately grounding the story in its moment. From there, tensions rise as the Philippine Constabulary Metrocom begins encroaching on local police operations, mirroring real historical power shifts. Gang rumbles, student protests, and internal power struggles converge, leaving Magtibay squeezed from all sides — professionally and personally.
Magtibay himself is no saint. He’s violent when it suits him, unfaithful despite presenting as a family man, and too quick to threaten force. Yet the film never excuses him — nor does it demonise him outright. Instead, Manila’s Finest presents a world where there are no clean hands, only varying degrees of compromise. The police aren’t heroes here; they’re a flawed boys’ club barely holding together as history moves against them.
This is where the film quietly pulls the rug out. What looks like a nostalgia-tinged period cop movie is actually something bleaker: a portrait of institutional decay and the slow march toward Martial Law. The irony of the title is deliberate and relentless. The story offers little triumph, lingering instead on despair, inevitability, and the unsettling sense that resistance — from police or protesters alike — may already be futile.
Technically, the film is assured. Red’s cinematography is striking, full of energy and texture, while the production design is meticulous — from the MPD interiors to riot shields repurposed from woven rattan. The edit could be tighter, and the soundtrack’s reliance on mournful kundiman rather than ’60s rock feels like a missed opportunity, but these are minor quibbles in an otherwise immersive experience.
I caught Manila’s Finest at an advance screening — never one to say no to a free movie — and was genuinely pleased to spot friends like Sue Prado among the police ensemble, and Elijah Canlas in a brief cameo. I’ll admit I came in curious about Dylan Menor, and he didn’t disappoint. The film stayed with me long after the credits rolled, not because it entertained, but because it made me think — which is perhaps its greatest strength.
By the end, history becomes impossible to ignore. We know how this period ends, and the weight of that inevitability is crushing. Manila’s Finest isn’t an easy Christmas watch, but for those willing to sit with its discomfort, it’s a complex, sobering, and quietly powerful film — one that reminds us how quickly systems fail, and how those failures continue to echo today.
The question I left the screening with — and one I managed to ask the cast — was this:
Is the film suggesting that the police lost their dignity and effectiveness because Metrocom undermined and sabotaged them, leaving them powerless to push back?
Manila’s Finest doesn’t offer easy answers — and that, perhaps, is the point.
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