Sometimes there’s nothing scarier than having to take public transportation. Shake Rattle & Roll 8’s LRT takes this daily horror to a whole other level.
If you’ve ever commuted in Metro Manila, you know the drill. The crowded platforms, the rush to catch that last train of the night, and the vague, unsettling feeling of being one among a crowd of strangers (or the fear of getting pickpocketed), all with stories and destinations you’ll never know. Imagine this as the setting of a horror story, and you have Shake Rattle & Roll 8’s LRT, an episode that plays on the unique fears of commuting in the metro.
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A Familiar Yet Horrifying Commute
@jao.ryeditss This is probably one of the best and scariest episode of SRR. ⚠️FAKE BLOOD ⚠️FAKE SCENARIO ⚠️FAKE BODY #shakerattleandroll #lrt #fyp #fypage #pinoyhorrormovies ♬ original sound – Jem – Ja_ryedtx
The brilliant nostalgia brought about by such a beloved anthology such as Shake Rattle and Roll (SRR) is a Filipino-identity. Produced by Regal Entertainment, SRR first captivated audiences in 1984 under the direction of Peque Gallaga, Ishmael Bernal, and Emmanuel H. Borlaza, with its debut film presenting three unique horror stories: Baso, Pridyider, and Manananggal. These segments were groundbreaking for embedding Filipino folklore and urban legends into horror, all within familiar settings.
The film’s success at the 1984 Metro Manila Film Festival, where it won multiple awards, officially established SRR as an instant classic; with its mix of supernatural and cultural themes, all throughout the years with different writers, producers, and directors each time, it resonated deeply with the Filipino masses, making a cultural landmark and a thing to look forward to once the calendar flips to October.
This same tradition of blending fright with familiarity continues into the third story of SRR’s 8th film (2006), LRT, and the concept is pretty bold in itself. It’s a moment of “aha!” I imagined when they took the stations of LRT 2, showing where exactly it boards from Recto to Antipolo, and devised these locations in the story. Unlike in other horror movies where we rarely ever know where it takes place, this one shows it to you and even lets you remember it when you’re going to commute on your own.
Departing from the chanak, kulam, and dead nun tropes, LRT is something that you’d know by heart because, aside from the symbolical creation of the wendigo-esque monster, all of the characters portrayed, are all present in real life. As the late Lily Monteverde or fondly, Mother Lily puts it in an interview with Vogue Philippines, “sometimes a movie is just reminding you of what’s happening in real life”, and what else is more heart-wrenching than not getting home after a long day of soul-sucking commute battles?
Beyond the Monster: Horror as Social Commentary
SRR’s LRT episode goes deeper than just horror—it’s a sociopolitical commentary wrapped in supernatural terror. Originally released in 2006, this story takes the everyday setting of a late-night LRT commute and twists it into a space of existential dread. The plot centers on 13 commuters on the last LRT 2 train trip before midnight, unable to escape as they travel through each of the 13 stations. The diverse group includes a bible-preaching woman, a young couple sneaking home, a nurse, and an overly-anxious man(who wouldn’t be)—all familiar faces to anyone who’s commuted in the metro. Yet as the characters realize they’re not alone, they encounter a creature that forces them to an industrial, eerie endpoint, far removed from any familiar station.
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But the fear in LRT doesn’t solely come from the monster; it’s also embedded in the atmosphere of the commute itself. The endless train route and looming threat highlight the oppressive, dehumanizing nature of transit in the metro. The episode critiques the systems structuring daily life for Filipinos, especially how government-controlled infrastructure influences the flow, safety, and quality of life for the average commuter. By exaggerating this harsh reality, the LRT episode sheds light on the overlooked systemic neglect affecting commuters and reveals how the terror of daily survival in the city is all too real.
The Last 13 Passengers
The realization among the passengers that they’re no more than pawns in a deadly game is both a gripping moment and a tangible reflection of their individual struggles. Each character embodies a distinct facet of the commuter experience, adding a layer of relatability and depth. For instance, the mother, Jean and the child, Jimmy (played by Manilyn Reynes and Quintin Alianza) represent those commuting out of necessity. Kempee De Leon (playing Cesar), who makes a last-ditch effort to help them escape could very well be one of the people who sacrifice their seat on a crowded train. Then there’s the nurse who gets pickpocketed, the young couple who sneaked out, and everybody else mirroring the shared anxiety and odd camaraderie among regular commuters navigating the chaotic transit system. These characters aren’t merely fictional; they mirror real people and the struggles of navigating a shared public space in urban Manila.
To put the experience into perspective, nearly 60% of Filipinos rely on public transportation, according to the Philippine Statistics Authority. For them, the daily commute is often marked by overcrowding, delays, and a lack of safety—all of which contribute to an atmosphere that’s both physically and emotionally taxing. This grim reality underpins LRT, making its horror all the more resonant.
Ultimately, the LRT episode of Shake Rattle & Roll 8 is not just another horror story; it’s a reflection of the fear, frustration, and societal neglect woven into the commuting experience. Even though in retrospect this might just be dubbed as a campy presentation, the story addresses very real issues that commuters face in Metro Manila. It was a risk-taking premise, executed in a time when people were less preoccupied with their phones and more susceptible to the isolation of commuting life in the mid-2000s, because there was no Grab or Angkas yet.
The choice to feature something so common and usual as the LRT, which is a train controlled by government infrastructure, highlights a real-world horror—the dispiriting effect of a system where authority looms over daily life, often neglecting the public it serves. In doing so, LRT reminds viewers that sometimes, horror doesn’t need to look like a monster—it can be found in the familiar routine of trying to make it home.
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