Diwa is a 2018 short film about the plight of immigrants victimized by violent crimes and the obstacles they face – told thru the eyes of one victim.
Immigration is a thorny political issue that is often headlined the most in election years, where pundits pounce to one side of the proverbial fence and bark about the detriments of illegal aliens versus basic human rights. In all this, the talking heads in media tend to keep focus on the voices in the fight and it becomes hard to truly put a face on the people it most effects, those who struggle to make a life for themselves and their families. With Aina Dumlao‘s latest short film Diwa, that’s exactly what she tries to do, while reaching across the social justice table for a bit of the #MeToo movement as well.
The story is a bit familiar, with a young woman named Diwa (Dumlao) working as a housekeeper in a luxury hotel. She is an undocumented immigrant from the Philippines who has come here on her own to build a brighter future and send money back to her family. Things do not go well though, as her boss Elmer (Eddie Martinez) is not the kind-hearted welcoming employer he initially seems, sexually attacking her regularly for months, leading the horribly victimized Diwa to take action, and then learn of the consequences.
Fearless in its political stance, Dumlao starts her 17-minute film with an excerpt of Trump’s now infamous ‘Mexico’ speech, where he disparages against those trying to cross the border as criminals and rapists, extending the description to people of other countries who come to the United States in search of a new destiny. His remarks are seen on a television overlooking a waiting room where Diwa sits waiting for help in a room of others just like her. It’s a jarring start to a film that is relentless in its message, uncompromising in making us witness to terrors often left untold and shuffled into the shadows.
Dumlao is not making a film of hope, which you might expect as countless feature length movies tend to wind us down to some feeling of inspiration. Instead, she is interested only in bold statements of truth, plotting Diwa through a series of push-me-pull-you encounters that have her desperate for help from people who have only so much reach, some saddled by anger and prejudice from those above them. All the while, a feeling of dread lingers, trigger by a troubling opening image that hangs over the entire experience.
A passion project for Dumlao and co-writer/co-director Bru Muller, Diwa is a good looking and well-made short, with Dumlao in nearly frame, her deeply expressive face transitioning with aching authenticity throughout from Diwa’s hopeful arrival in the country to the film’s staggering final moments. In such a short time, and with limited dialogue, she travels us through a highly-traumatic journey, keeping the story isolated to Diwa but clearly representative of far too many others.
Diwa is dark and unforgiving, its story purposefully bleak to a degree, yet it avoids being too oppressive, earning its sympathy with an honest script and a terrific performance. It doesn’t mask for a second its intent, challenging its audience to look through the debate and find the people at its heart, the victims lost to statistics, and lives forever left unfulfilled.