We watched Sunshine yesterday, July 24, during the block screening at SM Megamall. I had seen the trailer beforehand, so I knew we were in for something bold, something necessary. But I wasn't prepared for how deeply it would sit with me long after the credits rolled.
I didn't cry while watching the film, but once it ended, I found myself overwhelmed. The weight of Sunshine doesn't hit all at once - it lingers, it settles. And it stays.
At its core, Sunshine is the story of a woman taking control of her body in a society that keeps telling her she isn't allowed to. It's not simply about one choice, one moment, or one woman. It's about the collective experience of many Filipinas who navigate a system that consistently fails to hear them.
Antoinette Jadaone's direction doesn't shy away from discomfort. She faces it head-on, inviting the audience to confront the silences we've learned to live with - about abortion, reproductive rights, the stigma around sexuality, and the lack of access to informed sex education in the Philippines.
Sunshine is timely, urgent, and painfully real. It gives voice to the cry of our generation, echoing the need for progressive reforms that protect women and children. The film challenges its viewers not just to empathize, but to act.
As a viewer, I left the cinema not only moved, but also awakened. Sunshine isn't here to entertain. It's here to disturb, to provoke, and to push us into uncomfortable yet necessary conversations.
To my fellow Filipinos: let's not turn away. Let's create spaces where women can speak freely, where choices about their bodies are met with compassion, not judgment. Let's demand that our lawmakers stop treating reproductive health as taboo.
To filmmakers and storytellers: keep telling these stories. We need more films like Sunshine-bold, unapologetic, and grounded in truth. The personal is political, and cinema has the power to move both heart and policy.
Let Sunshine be a beginning. Let it be a spark. And let's keep the conversation going.
