Inside the Gritty, Hand-Drawn World of Sayawan

Mark Mendoza is not potty trained. Neither is his dog, Haru. But what Mendoza lacks in canine house-breaking skills, he more than makes up for in raw, uncompromising cinematic grit. As the director and mastermind behind Friendly Foes—a boutique development and animation studio tucked away in San Juan—Mendoza is currently waging a quiet, beautiful war against the algorithms threatening to homogenize modern entertainment. Their battleground? Kickstarter. Their weapon? Sayawan (The Dance), a moody, hyper-saturated psychological thriller masquerading as an animated short film.

The Curse of the Artist

Friendly Foes started back in 2016 as a creative escape valve. “I think as artists we are kinda cursed with this need to make things,” Mendoza admits. After a decade of directing slick commercial advertising, the team dropped Bebot (2022), a short film that took four grueling years to squeeze out between corporate gigs. When it racked up global festival accolades, Mendoza was hooked.

Now, they are tackling Sayawan, a stunning 2D animated thriller centering on Luis, a man living on a remote island who receives a fateful invitation to a dance from his love, Linda. It’s an old-soul story told in a fierce, modern tone, trading heavily in the unique unease of the Philippine provinces—and where local supernatural horrors wait in the shadows.

“There’s always this certain mystery and unease every time you go to a new province because there always seem to be these unwritten rules on how to respect the land and their deities, and that is super thrilling,” Mendoza notes. In a pre-launch studio survey, eighty percent of respondents claimed to have experienced the supernatural. In the Philippines, things going bump in the night isn’t folklore; it’s a Tuesday.

But what truly sets Sayawan apart from the endless sea of content is its fierce, artisanal execution. In an era where tech conglomerates are pushing automation, Friendly Foes flies a proud banner: #noai.

“We don’t use AI because that’s not what we do. We care about the craft,” Mendoza says flatly. “Fuck AI. As an artist, I hate it, but it’s put me in this awkward situation, because as a businessman, I still have to look at it and see where it goes, and whether we’ll reach a point where there is no choice left.” It’s a chillingly honest perspective from the front lines of indie animation. “We will be relegated to, as you said, artisans—hand-pulled noodles in a sea of instant noodles.”

Defying the Anime Overlords

To look at a frame of Sayawan is to feel a heavy, humid, tropical weight. Thanks to the world-painting of background artist Nizze Dennizze, the environment acts as its own living character, pulsing with hyper-saturated neon pops against a backdrop of deep Southeast Asian shadows.

Mendoza intentionally designed Luis and Linda to subvert the Western and anime aesthetics that hold a monopoly on global animation. “Actually, in the storyboards, the main characters look very anime because a lot of artists are accustomed to drawing in that style,” he says. “Character designer Frankie Aldana and I had to make sure that when we had to do the character designs, we veered away from that.”

The absolute zenith of this painstaking craft is the film’s center-set piece: a synchronized folk dance at an outdoor plaza, set to a modern score by Robert Seña (of SOS). To capture the kinetic energy of traditional movement without cutting corners, the studio collaborated with the La Manila Dance Ambassadors and Rondalla to reference actual cultural choreography. “That sequence will also be heavily stylized, and part of it will be meticulously painted frame by frame close to the treatment of our backgrounds,” Mendoza reveals. “So yeah, really breaking our backs with this one.”

The Renaissance and the Reality of Burnout

While early backing from the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA) funded the gorgeous backgrounds, the reality of independent film means the rest of Sayawan is being financed out of pocket. To cross the finish line, Friendly Foes has turned to global crowdfunding.

Mendoza and his producer, Alma Ramos, act as human shields for their crew, protecting them from performance metrics so they can focus on the art. It’s a gamble that comes at a time when the broader Philippine indie animation ecosystem is experiencing an unprecedented boom.

“Local animation fans are eating well this year,” Mendoza smiles, noting the massive influx of talent and hunger for local stories. “We hope to add to that with Sayawan and our coming-of-age film, Rage Radio. But for this trend to continue, these films have to do well; people need to show up so we can get more support.”

When the Kickstarter concludes, and the film hits the festival circuit, Mendoza’s ultimate emotional footprint for international audiences who have never stepped foot in a Philippine province is beautifully simple: “That was cool, what else do they have?”

Getting it there requires surviving the brutal creative cycle. For the next generation of dreamers looking up to Friendly Foes at events like Graphika Manila, Mendoza offers zero sugar-coating. “Burning out, I’ve come to learn, is just part of the creative cycle. I think it means you gave more than you could. Some people can balance it, but I can’t; there’s really no way around it if you’re doing something you love. What’s important is having people around you who will lift you up and inspire you when you’re down, and remind you of why you do what you do. This incessant need to make things.”

Independent animation is a brutal, heart-wrenching business, but it is one of the few places left where creators can take massive, beautiful risks. If we want our screens to look like something organic rather than algo-chasing tech-bro output, we have to vote with our wallets. Look up Sayawan on Kickstarter, back the project, and support our local animators. Let’s keep the artisans cooking.