As courageous now as it was when it was first released domestically in the Philippines, Aswang stands as an essential act of bearing witness to a "war on drugs" that the government continues to deny or justify to this day. Director Alyx Arumpac remains firmly by the side of these ordinary people who have to live through the nightmare of their friends, relatives, and neighbors being slaughtered in the streets. There seems to be little editorializing on the part of the filmmakers, as they allow the people to walk us through their own stories—even if larger powers would have us believe that the poor are dangerous, volatile, and in need of disciplining through death. It's a harrowing watch that presents on-the-ground stories with clarity, tenacity, and a surprising level of polish to boot.

There are far too many unforgettable images in Aswang (though they're images that deserve to be seared into the memory), but there's nothing more shocking and infuriating than the footage of a hidden cell behind a cabinet at a police precinct, stuffed with "suspects" with little space to move or breathe. This was a widely-reported and quickly-buried story that Arumpac makes sure to highlight, so that none of us can stand to see an act of such impunity being repeated without retribution.