Gritty. Atmospheric. Emotionally devastating. Ryan Machado’s Rumaragasa (Raging) arrives with fury — an artsy, urgent, visually stunning exploration of teen abuse, PTSD, and discrimination. Backed by world-class screenplay, direction, and cinematography, it’s a complete artistic triumph.
Have you ever felt a weight in your chest — something heavy, immovable, that refuses to fade or release you? It isn’t excitement or joy. It’s something else, like an inexplicable sense of being trapped, unable to move or respond when confronted by it. It deepens and settles there permanently, building slowly until the truth and traits of the feeling begin to speak to us. Director Ryan Machado captures that exact feeling and situation through a fragile, compelling element — one that remains buried until it finally erupts. And when it does, it is deafening. Permanently, unmistakably loud.
In the early 90s, a teenage boy named Eli has not been having a normal day — or normal days — for the past few weeks. Persistent nightmares, lack of focus, and an inability to lead a normal life seem to be part of his everyday struggles, as something constantly troubles him. The thing that follows him has set him apart from the village. But Eli walks on, unbothered, as if solitude suits him. What truly troubles Eli isn’t the isolation — it’s understanding why this uncontrollable feeling persists in the first place. While still wrestling with his inner turmoil, Eli sees a plane crash before his eyes, straight into Mt. Guiting-Guiting (located on Sibuyan Island in Romblon, Philippines). Now a new unease takes root in his mind. Haunted by questions without answers, Eli follows the clues his troubled mind begins to uncover — piecing together the puzzle, piece by piece. But the truth he finds is far from comforting.
If you have revisited director Machado’s previous film Huling Palabas (which screened at Berlinale Generation), you’d understand how precise his focus is in his films, and this film is no different. The film constructs nature not as setting but as participant — an ongoing dialogue between protagonist and ecosystem, each urging the other toward vulnerability and revelation. Sound designer Lamberto Casas, Jr. delivers tremendously here. The audio envelops us in eco-conscious rhythms that flow like offerings of peace, lulling us into comfort — even as they camouflage the film’s darker, more pressing undercurrents. The approach recalls Apichatpong Weerasethakul‘s use of sound in Memoria, where audio becomes a central narrative force, much as it does here. At the film’s core lies a stark portrayal of discrimination against queer individuals, beginning with what passes as playful teasing, then descending through a darker threshold into full-blown abuse in all its forms. The film seasons every scene with the unspoken war between masculinity and femininity inside the male collective — a conflict that breeds exclusion and bullying, reminding us that darkness grows not from outside, but from within.
The director wants viewers to feel every nerve of how these experiences impact victims psychologically, with careful and meditated precision, and eventually leaves quite a number of hints for viewers to grasp. The film functions as a kind of test — a puzzle demanding sustained attention, where only the focused observer can collect each fragment and assemble them into meaning. The film’s psychological depth emerges through actor Elijah Canlas’s embodiment of PTSD’s symptomatic patterns, guided by Machado’s meticulously constructed screenplay. The character study evolves with deliberate pacing, each layer adding to a portrait of increasing extremity and emotional resonance. The film employs a distinctive visual strategy reminiscent of Hong Sang-soo‘s abrupt zoom techniques — cinematic interruptions that signal narrative significance. Here, each zoom pulls us closer to the characters, while the cinematography by Theo Lozada balances beauty and dread. Emotions are rendered with raw honesty and quiet precision, allowing the camera to become a container — a safe space where the film’s intricate architecture can be fully absorbed.
Selected for the Berlinale Panorama, Rumaragasa (Raging) is a gritty, atmospheric triumph that wraps the weight of PTSD and teen abuse in a visually rich, artfully crafted package, anchored by world-class cinematography and a screenplay of rare power. The film boldly questions the trust system of male abuse victims toward authorities, the stigma surrounding acceptance of sexual orientation, the perception of queerness as weakness by some closeted individuals, and the urgent need to confront these deeply entrenched issues.
Don’t let the slow pace fool you. This is a film that truly awakens after it ends — gaining shape, gathering weight, expanding in the mind. By the time the credits roll, it has already begun to spread, lingering long after.
Our team is on the ground at the 76th Berlin International Film Festival, running from February 12th to 22nd, 2026.
