The upcoming film titled Sayaw kan mga Salampati (Dance of the Doves) brings Bikolano folk dance, music, and storytelling into a powerful narrative of missing farmers, grieving families, the struggle for land rights – and the power of collective resistance.
The film currently in development is directed by Arjanmar H. Rebeta, who has drawn from his agricultural roots in Bikol to tell a story that connects cultural heritage with the continuing struggles of farming communities. He inow seeks public support to continue film production. It is based on Rebeta’s script titled “Mga Kalapating Matayog ng Lipad” which won 3rd Prize in the Dulang Pampelikula category at the 2025 Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature.

In a recent media conference, Rebeta expressed gratitude to the individuals and groups who helped bring the film’s initial scenes to life during five days of shooting in September. The production, he said, would not have been possible without the generosity of people who contributed their time, talent, equipment, locations, food, transportation, services, financial assistance, and even the simple act of sharing the film’s story.
“Dios mabalos,” Rebeta said, expressing his heartfelt thanks to everyone who has helped the project move forward.
But while the first phase of filming has been completed, the director emphasized that much work remains before the film can reach completion. The production team is appealing for additional support to finance the next phase of shooting, planned for January and February of the following year.
A story of disappearance, grief, and resistance
Set in the fictional rural town of Sinibaan, Sayaw kan mga Salampati follows Maura, a folk-dance instructor, and Gunda, the mother of Maura’s husband, Lando. Their lives are upended as farmers begin disappearing amid a struggle for land rights under a corrupt and oppressive government.

As each farmer vanishes, the community builds a scarecrow dressed in the clothes the missing person last wore. These figures become painful reminders of loved ones whose whereabouts remain unknown.
The families then perform a pantomime dance before the scarecrows. What begins as a courtship dance rooted in local tradition gradually transforms into a ritual of mourning and a collective appeal for the return of the missing and the attainment of justice.
As the disappearances continue, the scarecrows multiply across the fields. Each represents another family left waiting, another child searching for a parent, another spouse yearning for a loved one, and another mother grieving for a son.
Through Maura and Gunda’s experiences, the film explores how personal loss can become a shared struggle, turning cultural expression into a means of remembrance, solidarity, and resistance.
The film traces the transformation of Maura, a folk-dance instructor, as she leads the women of Sinibaan in reimagining the Pantomina, a traditional Bikol courtship dance inspired by the movements of doves. Wearing the garments of their missing husbands, sons, and brothers, the women take their dance from private mourning into public spaces, making their grief visible and their demands for justice impossible to ignore.
Maura’s husband Lando once trained pigeons as messengers. Thus, the story’s imagery of pigeons taking flight is dramatic as they symbolically carry the women’s grief beyond the fields, beyond Sinibaan. The women dancing in defiance reinforces the film’s central message — a community’s suffering cannot be silenced when its people choose to stand together.
Preserving Bikolano culture through cinema
Beyond its social themes, Sayaw kan mga Salampati places Bikolano cultural traditions at the heart of its storytelling.

The film features traditional Bikol folk songs, including Sarung Banggi, Salampating Guminaro, and Sinanay si Tatay. These songs have been brought to life by the Philippine Madrigal Singers through musical arrangements by Bikolano arranger Ruben Federizon.
Music and dance are not merely decorative elements in the production. They serve as the language through which the characters express love, sorrow, longing, and defiance when words alone are no longer enough.
The Pantomina, traditionally associated with courtship and the movements of doves, becomes a powerful symbol of the women’s changing circumstances. As the story unfolds, the dance evolves from an expression of affection into a communal act of mourning and eventually a declaration of resistance.
By weaving these traditions into a contemporary narrative, the film seeks to demonstrate how local cultural forms can preserve collective memory and speak to urgent social realities.
Rebeta also stressed that the project was envisioned not simply as a film about a community, but as a film created with the community. The support already extended by individuals and groups reflects this collaborative approach, bringing together people who believe in the importance of telling Bikolano stories through cinema.
A filmmaker shaped by the land
For Rebeta, the film is deeply personal.

In his director’s statement, he recalls growing up in an agricultural town in Bikol, surrounded by rice fields where he played as a child and flew kites along the dikes. Coming from a farming family, he witnessed early the hard work required to put food on the table.
One childhood memory remains particularly significant. Using his aunt’s camera, he photographed his father and siblings riding a carabao in front of a vast farm. Only later did he fully understand the implications of the moment: the land belonged to someone else, even as his family worked within an agricultural landscape that shaped their lives.
As he grew older, Rebeta began to recognize the painful realities behind the fields that had once represented childhood happiness. The struggles of farmers, including their vulnerability to violence and the loss of land, became an enduring influence on his work as a filmmaker.
In 2019, news of the brutal killing of 14 farmers in Negros Oriental deepened his resolve to tell a story about the violence experienced by agricultural communities and those who struggle for land rights.
The film became his response to a cycle of violence that, in his view, demands both remembrance and accountability.
For Rebeta, Sayaw kan mga Salampati is an effort to ensure that the stories of farmers are heard and that their lives and struggles are not forgotten. It reflects his conviction that the land is more than a source of livelihood: it is also bound to questions of ownership, dignity, survival, and justice.
His personal history gives the film an intimate perspective on a broader national concern, connecting the experiences of one farming family to the plight of communities confronting displacement, repression, and loss.
Production continues with a call for support
Shot on location in Libmanan and Cabusao, Camarines Sur, the five days of filming in September marked the beginning of a project that Rebeta and his team had dreamed of making for years. Although the initial shoot brought Maura and Gunda’s world to life, the production still has numerous scenes, dances, and other essential elements to complete.

The next phase will require resources for cast and crew, equipment, locations, transportation, meals, production design, costumes, dance, music, and other production needs.
Rebeta is therefore appealing to individuals, organizations, cultural advocates, and supporters of independent cinema to help sustain the project.
He emphasized that contributions of any amount can make a difference. Those unable to provide financial assistance can still help by sharing the campaign and introducing the film to a wider audience.
The appeal reflects a larger reality faced by independent filmmakers: bringing a story to the screen requires not only artistic vision and dedication, but also a community willing to help carry the work through the demanding stages of production.
For Rebeta, the support already received has demonstrated what can happen when people come together around a story they believe deserves to be told.
The next challenge is to sustain that collective effort until the film is completed.
Keeping the dance alive
At its heart, Sayaw kan mga Salampati is a story about people who refuse to let grief erase the memory of their loved ones. Through the scarecrows, folk songs, and evolving movements of the Pantomina, the film portrays a community transforming its pain into a shared demand for justice.

Its significance lies not only in its treatment of the struggles of farmers, but also in its commitment to Bikolano identity, artistic expression, and community participation.
The film’s journey remains unfinished, but its first five days of shooting have already shown Rebeta and his collaborators what their collective efforts can achieve.
“Every contribution becomes part of the film. Every movement keeps the dance going,” the director said in his appeal.
He hopes that more people will join the effort to bring Maura and Gunda’s story to completion.
For those who wish to support the production, Rebeta encourages contributions and the sharing of the film’s fundraising campaign. Details on how to donate may be obtained through the film’s official campaign or production team.
As Sayaw kan mga Salampati moves toward its next stage of production, the call is clear: help bring this Bikolano story to the screen, preserve the cultural traditions that give it life, and amplify the voices of those whose struggles must not be forgotten.
How to support the film production
Sayaw kan mga Salampati accepts partnerships, major sponsorships, collaborations, and other means of support. You can reach the production team by email: tdotpfilm@gmail.com.
Bank Details
GCASH — Account name and number: AR*****R R, 0917-822-0477
BPI — Account name and number: Arjanmar H. Rebeta, 2283-1105-86
METROBANK — Account name and number: Arjanmar H. Rebeta, 289-3-28958824-9
BDO — Account name and number: Arjanmar H. Rebeta, 010330078070
DIOS MABALOS!
The header image depicts a social theme in the upcoming movie — “Collective Memory and the Disappeared: Through the scarecrows dressed in the garments of the desaparecidos (the disappeared), the town preserves memory in the face of enforced forgetting. These visual symbols keep the dead and the missing alive in the public conscience.” (all photos and captions credit: Sayaw kan mga Salampati)
