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Kevin Alambra (director), Warla, 2025. 111 min.

I have just watched Warla. I cannot claim any lived experience concerning trans issues; however, I found myself uneasy with the bluntness of the film’s storytelling. I have also spoken with trans people who shared this discomfort. I felt compelled to process these sentiments regarding the politics of representing vulnerable people in the best way I know: by examining the ethics of advocacy.

Warla is part of the Main Selection for the 2025 Cinemalaya Independent Film Festival. It marks the first full-length feature of director Kevin Alambra and the first leading role for Lance Reblando. The film is based on the true story of the Warla Gang, a group of transgender women who kidnap foreigners for ransom to fund their gender-affirming surgeries. At the film’s climax, they abduct Isumu (Jacky Woo), a Japanese businessman, but the plan unravels as they begin to reckon with the consequences of their actions.

Needed representation?
O

Transgender stories have made a niche yet significant contribution to Filipino and Asian cinema. Warla covers similar ground to earlier films such as Those Long Haired Nights. The main difference is that, rather than casting straight male actors, Warla features a predominantly transgender cast, led by Lance Reblando and Jervi Wrightson. Rather than being token inclusions, they deliver authentic and affecting performances that invite empathy from audiences. However, Warla’s value within this subgenre deserves careful evaluation. On the surface, it offers a serviceable crime thriller with a compelling premise. Yet there are fundamental issues regarding the representation of a vulnerable group.

Warla’s seasoned screenwriter, Arah Jell Badayos, draws upon the backstories of each gang member to illuminate the challenges trans people commonly face in society while seeking to humanise the characters. These narratives, however, often depict them as victims and outsiders in clichéd and exaggerated ways. The film opens with Kitkat discovering the body of her mother figure, “Lalie” (Matmat Centino), floating lifeless in a river, brutally murdered. Kitkat’s family, particularly her father (Floyd Tena) and brother (Gold Aceron), physically and verbally assault her. She finds comfort and refuge with her found family, led by Joice (Jervi Wrightson), who is under pressure to pay her estranged mother’s hospital bills. Barbie Ann (Serena Magiliw) strives to care for her son, but her former partner seeks to alienate the child from her in favour of a male father figure. She even physically confronts her ex-partner’s new companion to fight for her son. Another member struggles with intimacy because she has not yet undergone surgery. The framing of these scenes feels more like a checklist of victimhood than genuine character development. One might question whether the prejudice experienced by these characters truly reflects the realities of Philippine society.

Needed advocacy
or Exploitative Revenge?
O

It is admirable to attempt to raise awareness of these issues for newer audiences. The production even consulted with the trans advocacy group The Society of Trans Women of the Philippines (STRAP) to ensure the material was treated sensitively. However, by linking these issues to a real-life criminal gang, the story risks suggesting that all trans people possess similar criminal tendencies. The chosen backstories, such as men shouting slurs or confrontations in bathrooms, can be interpreted as emotional manipulation designed to elicit sympathy. These tropes, heavy-handed and performed with excessive fervour, are meant to justify the characters’ descent into crime. One is reminded of the “Cell Block Tango” number from Chicago (2002), a tongue-in-cheek satire in which women murderers rationalise their actions by claiming “they had it coming.” Warla’s tone, however, is far too earnest to achieve such complexity. Its portrayal of pain feels more exploitative and manipulative than authentic and nuanced. The characters become almost straight-faced caricatures of prejudice. Yes, they are victims, but does that justify their actions? Must society accept them out of fear that they might turn to crime?

It would be less problematic to portray the characters as criminals who happen to be trans, rather than trans people who happen to be criminals. The filmmakers could have avoided this ethical dilemma by simply telling a drama instead of attempting a form of haphazard advocacy. The characters need not serve as ambassadors for their community but simply as flawed individuals. Perhaps the filmmakers could have conducted deeper research on the actual Warla Gang to create a more historically accurate dramatization. Yet, in their marketing and interviews, they claim to have made the film for their trans brothers and sisters, even though their story may ultimately do more harm than good.

Biological Essentialism
or Social Acceptance?
O

The decision to emphasise the group’s ultimate goal of undergoing surgery is also questionable. Must they undergo surgery to be treated as human beings and to live as their authentic selves? Kitkat’s character refuses surgery, and her found family condemns her for wanting something different. Perhaps their pursuit of biological affirmation is meant to purchase their own social acceptance. Deep down, social acceptance for who they truly are may be their genuine desire. The script, however, could do more to make this clearer.

There is certainly room for trans characters to undertake dangerous moral arcs or even to become antagonists in gritty narratives. However, their representation in film remains rare in Asian and Filipino media. Real trans people continue to face violence and discrimination in Filipino society. Many audiences may not distinguish between fictional characters and those living these realities.

Non-trans filmmakers may, of course, tell stories about trans people, but they must do so with appropriate care and genuine consultation. Audiences may watch Warla with a degree of scepticism and appreciate its performances, yet they should remain wary of the clichés and stereotypes the film risks reinforcing. Although Warla originated as a colloquial queer battle cry, it ultimately portrays a war that its characters lose.

How to cite: Ordonez, Matthew. “Warla: A Crime of Passionate Advocacy.” Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, 13 Oct. 2025, chajournal.blog/2025/10/13/warla.

Matthew Ordonez is a university lecturer who teaches courses in Political Science, Development Economics, and Cinema and Politics. He is a member of the Society of Filipino Film Reviewers.

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