100 Greatest Asian Movies Of All Time: Himala 2/100

After that, she becomes a healer. Pilgrims arrive. The town changes. But instead of hope, what begins to spread is something much more complicated.

Nora Aunor barely speaks in some scenes, but she doesn’t have to. Her performance shows how silence, stillness, and presence can carry just as much weight as a page of dialogue.

Is She a Fraud?

A lot of summaries will tell you that Elsa was a fraud. But the film itself doesn’t say that—not directly. Himala leaves space for interpretation. It doesn’t explain everything, and that’s what makes it unsettling.

You’re not asked to pick a side. You’re asked to observe. And maybe question yourself. That’s part of what makes this film linger long after it ends.

More Than Just Religion

Yes, Himala is set in a deeply religious context. But it’s not just about faith. That line—“You have a lot of followers, but no friends”—was written long before the age of social media, and yet it feels more relevant now than ever.

It says something about how we connect with others, how admiration doesn’t always equal intimacy, and how easy it is to become isolated even when you’re surrounded by people who believe in you.

“Where Was God?”

There’s a scene where a character witnesses something horrifying and later asks, “Where was God? Where was the miracle?” The film doesn’t give him an answer. But there’s a look—one that says more than any line could.

The miracle, it turns out, was supposed to be him. The person watching. The one who could have acted but didn’t. It’s a quiet moment, but one that asks a loud question: When things go wrong, do we wait for a miracle—or do we realize we were meant to be it?

What Happens When Faith Is No Longer Enough?

As Elsa’s influence grows, the people around her begin to change. Their needs evolve. What they want from her shifts. Eventually, her miracles are no longer enough. Not because she changed, but because they did.

It reminded me of a conversation I had with a Muslim friend. I was asking questions—not to challenge him, just to understand. He said something that stuck with me: “Allah is Allah, even if I don’t like what He’s saying.” He believed that faith isn’t meant to be tailored to comfort. It’s meant to guide, even when it challenges.

That tension—between belief and expectation—is everywhere in Himala. People don’t just want healing. They want a version of the truth that suits their struggles. And when they don’t get it, they turn.

Himala doesn’t try to impress with flashy scenes or clever twists. It sits with you. It asks hard questions. And in doing so, it reminds us of the things we often ignore—how we treat faith, how we treat each other, and how often we wait for someone else to fix what we’re afraid to face.