Reconstruction Vol. 16, No. 2
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The Seductive Power of Digital Technology: Gay (Re)presentations and the "Coming out" of Independent Film in Philippine Cinema / Roberto Reyes Ang
Abstract
Mimicking how the good cop in Filipino movies arrives on the scene just a moment before it is too late, similarly a new generation of filmmakers has emerged in The Philippines to rescue an industry in decline, equipped of late with a new weapon of choice, digital technology. An effective means by which filmmakers might combat the rising costs of producing a film without studio backing, this technology heralds a dramatic change in direction for Philippine Cinema, so much so that the industry appears to have reestablished its footing. But there would be an unexpected turn, especially in self-depictions of sexuality and in the ensuing representations of non-heteronormative values on the screen.
Keywords: digital technology, stereotypes, panggagaya, self-depictions of sexual identity
<1> During the 1990s, The Philippines produced between 100 to 150 celluloid commercial films per year. By 2005, however, that number had fallen to 8. There were many factors that contributed to the decline of movie production in the country, among them a devaluation in currency, diminished box office returns, prohibitive government taxation, and obviously the exorbitant cost of production, marketing and distribution. The Philippine movie industry was in dire need of some sort of miracle, a revolution in order to sustain itself-anything that might radically transform its sustainability and local practices. The lack of production, as expected, led directly to the loss of patrons, and a radical change to win back the hearts of its disinterested viewers became a matter of necessity. Worse, critics by and large either predicted or declared the death of Philippine Cinema.
<2> Mimicking how the good cop in Filipino movies arrives on the scene just a moment before it is too late, similarly a new generation of filmmakers emerged to rescue the industry, equipped with a new weapon of choice. Digital technology, as they saw it, might effectively combat the rising costs of producing a film without studio backing. With its advent, too, the course of Philippine Cinema direction would change profoundly, so much so that the industry regained its footing. But there would be an unexpected turn. On a practical level, the mode of production within the industry, as well as marketing, distribution and exhibition, grew more dynamic and efficient. Even as this new technology infused blood into a dying industry, individual works became far more diverse thematically. Declaring their independence from big studios, these new filmmakers found themselves freed from the limitations under which their predecessors had labored.
<3> Once-stereotypical representations so predictable in earlier Philippine Cinema began to break free of imposed limitations as they diversified and became far more progressive. Filmmakers became empowered with the agency to express themselves. Liberal ideologies blossomed as a result of fewer financial repercussions. Digital technology helped ease their financial burdens and made the practice of filmmaking far more equitable. As a result, these filmmakers enjoyed a broader sense of freedom in treating and representing their subjects. Significant among the changes was a noticeable broader representation of gender and sexuality in the Philippines.
The Advent of Digital Technology
<4> Digital moviemaking became a trend across the industry in the Philippines around the mid-2000s. Affordable, the technology provided a new and increasingly popular medium for otherwise financially-challenged filmmakers. Prior to its advent, production in the Philippines was accessible only through big studios. Representation of gays and lesbians in big-studio releases were, in effect, constrained and carefully executed in accordance with a particular formula, an established standard of production that, in the end, maximized profit. The freedom of artistic expression fell before a profit-oriented machine. Film critic Alex Tioseco notes that while respected Filipino filmmakers prior to the digital age (e.g. Lino Brocka, 1939-1991, and Ishmael Bernal,1938-1996) made significant contributions to the movie industry, they addressed studio demands by succumbing to the production of the commercial and marketable, profit-generating films, in exchange for that rare opportunity to produce and direct a few selected films they personally valued as socially relevant. Commerce and profit closely dictated the nature of their products (2007: 288-300).
<5> Of equal importance, the availability of digital technology opened the way to movie-producing of would-be filmmakers either unestablished or without connection to the established studios. Complementing this new innovation, grant-giving bodies-Cinemalaya, Cinema One and, more recently, CineFilipino, Sinag Maynila, QCinema, and Tofarm, for example-were established with the expressed intent to support independent filmmaking: they have consistently awarded seed money to assist with independent productions. Critics, however, argue, often rightly so, that most of these institutions also exercise control over directors and that they place an inordinate emphasis upon the commercial value of those films they do fund. Most obvious are the ways in which their intervention is manifest with their insipid meddling with the director's artistic vision. In 2012, a member of Cinemalaya's selection committee, Frances Joseph Cruz, resigned from his position because he "simply [could not] be part of a system" that he no longer believed in. At precisely the same time, Cinemalaya exercised its option to disqualify MNL143 (2012), a dramatic comedy directed by multimedia artist Emerson Reyes, allegedly because of casting disagreements between the selection committee and the director. This film went on to premiere at the 66th Edinburgh International Film Festival to high praise from international film critics.
<6> While these funding bodies certainly supported a large number of independent filmmakers, some, if not all of them, are nonetheless disposed of the idea that films are commercial products and, as such, need be commercially driven. In his essay, "The Turn to Digital: Revival of Film Culture in the Philippines," Ramil de Jesus, a lecturer in film production and broadcasting at the Colegio de San Juan de Letran, observes that "2006 was dubbed as the 'year of the Filipino digital feature film." That year, digital films, in large part because of the availability of outside funding, demonstrated their competitive "prowess against commercially produced celluloid films in almost every category at the Urian Awards which is widely regarded as the Filipino version of the Oscars" (2006: 127).
<7> That year, nine out of twelve awards went to digital films, including Best Movie, awarded to the coming-of-age film, Ang pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros (The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros, 2005), directed by Filipino filmmaker and indigenous peoples' rights advocate Auraeus Solito (now calling himself Kanakan Balintagos). The movie focuses on the transition to adulthood of Maxi (Nathan Lopez, 1991- ), a 12-year-old effeminate gay boy who survives in the slums with his father and brothers as petty thieves; he must choose between his love for a young policeman (J. R. Valentin, 1982- ) and his loyalty to his family. It garnered four Urian Awards and went on to represent the Philippines in the 79th Academy Awards. Initially, Solito wanted to execute his project using celluloid film and, with this approach in mind, had sought financing from established studios. Unable to find support, he resorted to digital technology, evidencing, as De Jesus rightly suggests, that digital technology "moved the power from the financier to the filmmaker" (2006: 130).
<8> Indeed, digital technology allowed an infusion of new talent into Philippine Cinema-and its influence would extend from new ways of conceiving and narrating stories, in general, to genuinely new and compelling reconceptualizations of homosexual identity, in particular. In fact, changes directly attributable to the advent of digital technology, at least in part, include the manner in which LGBTQ characters and non-heteronormative identities are represented on the screen.
<9> While homosexuals have always been staple characters of Filipino movies in the past, their portrayals were often limited either to comical characters or to men desperately wanting to become women and often living desperate lives. For the most part, they bore the stigma of condemnation, subtle or otherwise. In addition, it was a rare moment in Philippine cinematic history that an LGBTQ character might become the focus of the story. Instead, such characters are written to support and bolster the orthodoxy of heteronormativity. Joel David, a renowned scholar in Philippine Cinema, rightfully argues that in Filipino movies, most of the gay characters outside of the comedic genres are reduced to no more than supporting roles. He further observes that the compromise necessary for having a homosexual lead character in a film is, in point of fact, to resort to a wholly comic treatment (1990: 89).
<10> Consider, for example, the spectacle of the flamboyant Filipino transvestite reified in Philippine Cinema. A significant number of films confuse such identities as they depict Filipino homosexuals as over-the-top copycats of femininity. Although there has been a recent liberal turn in understanding of homosexuality in the Philippines, the dominant articulation of Filipino gayness during and before the Marcos era is rooted in the mistaken perception that gay men desire to be women. In an essay entitled "Transvestites and Transgressions: Panggagaya in Philippine Gay Cinema," noted film scholar Rolando Tolentino recalls that Imelda Marcos surrounded herself with a coterie of gay hairstylists, make-up artists and fashion designers, all of whom trailed behind her whenever she had to attend social functions or make public appearances. These gay personal assistants, at least on one level, perpetuated the notion, and the status of the male homosexuals performing "femaleness" within the circle of trendy socialites became d'ériger . This act of performing, termed panggagaya, or imitation, is not exactly the same as what some scholars might recognize as "passing." While "passing" is an attempt to blend in-racial passing is the attempt by a person "classified" as a member of one racial group to be accepted accepted as a member of a different racial group-"panggagaya," in this context, is far more often geared towards "performance," in particular showing off and drawing attention to self by embracing, in fact exuding a spectacular and sophisticated female persona of the diva. The female counterpart is the lesbian who embraces an exaggerated macho persona, often termed "butch." Both types dominate the representations of gays and lesbians in pre-digital movies.
<11> "Panggagaya" is, in fact, a Pilipino word that means mimicry. In the context of Tolentino's essay, he refers especially to the way by which homosexual males perform the feminine, embrace a facade of "female" through cross-dressing or "drag," in seeking their livelihoods strictly within certain sectors of trade, and in limiting themselves to "straight male" partners. He explains the elaborate extremes by which the First Lady nourished and encouraged transvestitism and in which her gay entourage served to legitimized her own physical-oftentimes highly exaggerated and theatrical-appearance, mode of carriage or "being" in public, and appropriations of accepted standards of beauty. Interestingly as the Imelda "legitimized" flamboyance and welcomed transvestitism, she also demonstrated her overarching power, in this instance to create-in effect, mold or impose upon-her entourage an easily recognized subordinate position as servants. Put differently, the transvestite community, given a degree of latitude under the Marcos regime, were ever-so-gently and carefully crafted as the (rightful) servants of the queen-in this instance, Queen Imelda. Tolentino accurately observes that those gay men who followed Imelda Marcos' flamboyant style became at once an imitation-the embodiment or personification-of femininity and a cheap and tawdry attempt to exude affected affluence. While they might aspire to her grandeur, they were time and again reduced, exposed as no more than second-rate imitations, copycats or cheapened counterfeits.
<12> As he further observes, Filipino transvestites in the larger scheme of things become sycophants akin to Marcos' coterie of artists and stylists, always ready at the drop of a handkerchief or less to serve the powers that be. Of equal importance, he suggests that, while gayness is unabashedly showcased in the public spaces of government institutions, the identity of Filipino homosexuals as predominantly transvestite in nature relegated gay men to second-class social status. "The transvestite embodies high fashion and female sexuality," he would argue, and their "cross-dressing is the performance of and marker of transvestitism." By donning the garb of excess in what is perceived as high (formal/evening) fashion, they "betrayed" the emptiness, the superficial or wholly exterior nature of "pleasure [in this] temporal movement to high society" (Tolentino 2000: 327).
<13> Doubtless, this particular superficiality as a cultural phenomenon is much in evidence in the Filipinos' fondness of gay beauty pageants. In these competitions, Filipino transvestites go so far as to mimic their favorite Miss Universe celebrities. The temporality of this act, of course, only reminds them of their statuses once the spectacle is over the bloom: those transvestites who would impersonate the norms they perceived as high fashion exuded by those they so idolized must, once the ball is over, return to their rags at the proverbial strike of midnight; their carriages return to pumpkins.
<14> Regardless of whether Filipino male homosexuals embrace an outward articulation of their gender identity and sexuality by virtue of cross-dressing-and cross-dressers are but one possible outward manifestation of internal awareness, the context of Philippine homosexuality is anchored in and oriented toward female sexuality, as evidenced by such exaggerated performance of the feminine. Even to this day, such contextualizations remain rigidly intact, particularly among the lower classes. The problem ought to be obvious: their performance ostensibly positions them as the "Other." Within the Philippine social context, they are reduced as a matter of fact to second-class citizenship. The all-too-common sentiment expressed by a significant number of Filipino homosexuals that it poses no problems to their relationships were their straight male partners to actively pursue sexual relations with female partners, provided, of course, that they do not engage in affairs with other homosexuals, only reaffirms their position as somehow inferior. Their attitude renders them relatively insignificant and without power. Revealing their low self-esteem and their resignation to the acceptability of being second-class citizens, their grasp of their place in the world may be conscious or otherwise. As Tolentino argues, insofar as an increasing number of middle and upper-class gay men, especially academics, now embrace the liberalized and broadly conceived contexts for variances in sexual identities, there remain those who are shackled to-bounded by-the antiquated contexts governing self-representation of homosexuality in the Philippines.
Homosexuals as Consumers of Male Prostitution
<15> Since most Filipino gay men have historically interpreted their sexuality as feminine, it seems wholly a natural course of events for them to select a "straight" male partner to fulfill their sexual and romantic needs. And because straight males, in general, prefer women as sexual partners, the romantic endeavors of the Filipino male homosexual are from their beginnings no more than an anomaly, viewed by most as impractical.
<16> Gay Filipino men resort to creative and often altogether compromising means to find a substitute to their coveted relationships. Often, they settle for whatever best replicates the relationships that they seek. At times, the relationships formed between straight men and their homosexual partners are motivated by finance, in most instances with the gay man providing a financial means for his straight partner. Ironically, Filipino homosexuals generally cast themselves as the "masculine stereotype," the strong macho provider able attend to all their partners' needs, and the "feminine stereotype," the weak and demur, ineffective individual, always sacrificing and always forgiving those who abuse them in some way-all in the name of love and their need to be loved.
<17> Sometimes, Filipino homosexuals engage in an even more blatantly economic-based relationship with the straight males in the form of consumption of male bodies either by voyeurism or prostitution. Conservative religious groups add a twist to this economic activity by putting it in the context of religious morality. This explains the proliferation of Filipino movies depicting male sex performers and their clientele, beginning with such as Lino Brocka's Macho Dancer (1988; Figure 1). Brocka is an openly gay man who remained steadfastly unafraid of speaking the truth-he often found himself in direct confrontation with the Marcos regime or the Catholic hierarchy, and he frequently made use of LGBTQ themes and representations [1]-he was, nonetheless, widely regarded as one of the most influential, significant and forward-thinking of the directors in Philippine cinema history. Exploring the harsh realities facing Pol (Allan Paule), a poor young man who leaves the countryside for Manila's seamy red-light district, where under the mentorship of callboy Noel (Daniel Fernando, 1962- ), supports himself and his family as a male stripper and prostitute and by selling illegal drugs. Macho Dancer provides a frank and accurate depiction of human trafficking, political corruption, and oppression (Figure 2). Although the government censors ordered extensive edits of the film, an uncensored edition, smuggled out of the Philippines, received critical acclaim at a number of international film festivals.
Figure 1. Film poster for Macho Dancer
Figure 2. Noel and Pol as Featured Dancers
<18> Exploitation as a part of the homosexual subculture in major cities would feature prominently in a number of films that followed on the heels of the successful reception of Macho Dancer. Writer and director Mel Chionglo (1949- ), for example, found inspiration in the lives of Brocka's male dancers in Manila's gay bars and presented his own iterations, in three gay-themed some might suggest pornographic works, Sibak: Midnight Dancers (1994), Burlesk King (2000) and Twilight Dancers (2006). Masahista (The Masseur, 2005), directed by Cannes Award-winning director Brillante Mendoza (1960- ), Ang Laro Ng Buhay Ni Juan (The Game in Juan's Life, 2009), directed by accomplished filmmaker Joselito Altarejos, and Heavenly Touch (2009), directed by Joel Lamangan (1952- ), extend this storyline further.
<19> Aside from the gay men's representation in film as clients of prostitution, they are also often represented as "funny" and "comedic" characters. While I view the excessive representation of homosexuals as comedic characters to be rather limiting, I would like to emphasize that there is nothing wrong with the use of comic treatment in depicting male homosexual characters per se. Such depictions only become problematic when they cease to move beyond exercises in the banal. In other words, the problem is not with these portrayals. The lack of alternative representations is.
<20> Similarly, there is nothing wrong with the representation of transvestites in Filipino movies.
<21> The excessive cinematic representation of homosexuals as externalizing a feminized identity, however, marginalizes the non-feminine members of the gay community. Moreover, because of the limited cinematic representation of male homosexuals during the pre-digital period, gay men who exude a masculine self-identity became anomalies, outcasts within the Filipino gay community, labeled as "pamintang durog," literally meaning "ground pepper." The term is actually a play of words with a derogatory connotation loosely derived from the slang term "pa-men" ("pretending to be men"). The excessive use of the comedy genre and the repetitive depiction of feminized gay males who claim that they were supposed to be born females, as well as the trite depiction of older gay men as regular clients of male strippers in Manila's go-go bars, perpetuate a false image of Filipino homosexuals. As Guy Debord laments, "The spectacle is capital to such a degree of accumulation that it becomes an image" (1983).
Financial Impact of Digital Technology on the Film Industry
<22> Certainly, the advent of digital technology allowed for a new generation of filmmakers, freed from the overwhelming constraints at the hand of big studios, and a proliferation of new works flooded the market. In turn, a new generation of viewers turned their attentions and their expendable incomes toward these releases. Hence, digital technology paved the way for new directions in filmmaking-and no longer constrained by the threat of financial repercussions, increasingly iconoclastic representations made their way to the screen. Filmmakers in the Philippines are now far less worried about recuperating millions of pesos and with making certain that their works pass muster with the "censors" and satisfy the fickle tastes of the movie-going public. Instead, directors enjoy the privilege of being more conscientious of their duties as artists and social actionists. Relatively speaking, they are free to do what they want in any manner they deem appropriate to their specific projects. In addition to the decrease in production cost, digital technology has led to a decrease in distribution costs, allowing for broader accessibility of their works. [2]
<23> There is a catch, however.
<24> Theaters continue to halt the screening of a film should there be fewer than less than ten viewers in a theater at any given time.
<25> Indeed, movies made with celluloid film cost hundreds of times more than digital video. As early as 2006, De Jesus had noted that a digital video tape costs no more than 150 pesos. [3] Now, with reusable high-definition memory cards, costs have dropped further. In addition, the complexity and the cost of converting to digital for editing and then back to film for theatrical release are eliminated. Additionally, independent filmmakers using digital technology tend to worry less about featuring "star performers" in their projects-further decreasing the cost of production. When big-name actors do make an appearance, they often cut their fees, agree to be paid on a percentage basis, or accept a combination of both to accommodate the small budgets allocated to these projects.
<26> The success of digital movies in local award-giving bodies allowed them to be competitive with established studios. In fact, even the local studios have resorted to creating an arm within their organizations that specializes in digital movie production. To complement the success that independent digital moviemakers enjoyed locally, international film festivals also served as a point of validation that allowed them greater leverage in presenting themselves as equals with or even better than their counterparts in the Philippine studio system. Movies with homosexual themes have been winning their fair share of international recognition. Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros (The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros) won numerous awards from international film festivals including the Teddy Awards in the Berlin Film Festival and the Best Film in Turin International Gay and Lesbian Festival (Figure 3). It was also the Philippines' official entry to the 79th Annual Academy Awards and was the opening film in New Directors/New Film Festival in New York.
Figure 3. Maxi Oliveros and Victor Perez
Brillante Mendoza's Masahista (The Masseur, 2005), a digital film following the life and struggle to survive of a twenty-year old masseur/sex worker in Manila, won the Golden Leopard award at the Locarno Film Festival and was an official selection to numerous film festivals including the Toronto International Film Festival.
Broader Representations of Homosexual Men in the Movies
<27> Although not all gay-themed digital movies have enjoyed international success, they have nonetheless broadened the range of representation of male homosexuality in Filipino movies. Joselito Altarejos's Ang Lalake sa Parola (The Man in the Lighthouse, 2007), for instance, explores the encounter of two masculine homosexuals and how they allowed themselves to discover each other in a rural setting (Figure 4).
Figure 4. Film Poster for Ang Lalake sa Parola
Another digital movie by the same director, Ang Lihim ni Antonio (Antonio's Secret, 2008) relates the story of an adolescent's coming to terms with his sexual identity and his attraction to the same sex (Figure 5).
Figure 5. Film Poster for Ang Lihim ni Antonio
Central to this work is a compelling discussion a young gay man and his straight male best friend, revealing how, at a very young age, both attempt to understand and articulate what it means to be a homosexual.
<28> The spread of digital technology in Philippine Cinema also encouraged a wider distribution of other film genres outside of the full feature film. For instance, Jowee Morel's digitally-shot documentary When a Gay Man Loves (2007) was made available for distribution on DVD to a wide market. Tackling conflicting positions regarding same-sex romances and affairs, it includes interviews with prominent Filipinos discussing their own homosexuality. While some homosexuals still subscribe to the notion that they were "supposed" to be born as women and would only "fall in love" (love in the romantic sense) with a straight man, opposing interviews underscore that there are those who accept themselves as gay and who would only love a fellow-homosexual (although, admittedly, most could not necessarily rule out having an affair with a straight male). Theirs is a breakaway from the clichéd "gay-effeminate-male-falls-in-love-with-straight-male" narrative.
<29> What makes this documentary all the more daring is its inclusion of a priest openly critical of the notion that homosexuals are sinners and that homosexuality is a taboo. He advances his argument by emphasizing that the word "homosexuality" was not specifically used in the Bible; instead, he argues, a Greek term, mistranslated by biblical scholars, had led to continuing confusion. For whatever it is worth, the overwhelming quantity of films with more liberal viewpoints has escaped the scrutiny of typically pro-Catholic government leaders.
<30> In 2001, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo (1947- ), the fourteenth president of The Philippines (2001-2010), made headlines with her controversial banning of Jose Javier Reyes' Live Show (aka Toro, Toro 2000). The work explores the trials and travails of six poverty-stricken young men and women who have been forced to perform live sex acts, so-called "toro-toro," on the stage of certain of Manila's nightclubs. While the story centers on the testimonial of Rolly (Paolo Rivero), the movie also outlines how sex workers cope with overwhelming condescension from mainstream society and how they do what it takes to survive in a Third World urban setting. Rolly, in his bid for survival, not only performs live sex acts onstage, but also engages in sex for money, mostly with gay male clients. However reticent the President was to acknowledge the existence of Manila's sexual underbelly, her ban only served to underscore the reach and depth of power of conservative religious leaders both in the film industry and within the halls of government.
<31> Bowing to the will of then-Manila Archbishop Jaime Sin and other religious leaders, Arroyo ordered the withdrawal of the film from public screening-less than two months after she had assumed her post as head of (a secular) State. After its ban, hundreds of people, among them filmmakers, artists, and students, marched to Mendiola Bridge, carrying placards exclaiming the likes of "Yes to Expression, No to Suppression" and "No to Censorship" [3]. Brian Yeatter, author of Cinema of the Philippines: A History and Filmography, 1887-2005, observes that "Arroyo had further opened herself up to criticism as . . . a puppet of the [Catholic] Church by admitting that she hadn't even seen the film when she ordered it banned" (2007: 230). Movie and Television Review and Classification Board (MTRCB) Chairman Nicanor Tiongson, a well-known film critic and scholar in the Philippines, told the press that he was "'traumatized' by Cardinal Sin, who was 'reeking with arrogance' and had acted as a 'political tactician, not a priest'" (Phillips 2001). Tiongson went so far as to reveal publically the behind-the-scenes machinations, in particular that, aside from Sin, a group of religious interdenominational conservatives calling themselves as the Coalition for Righteousness had also rallied to ban the film. The following day, Arroyo went public and announced that she would remove Tiongson from his position as chairman of the MTRCB, all the more ironic given that he had been appointed to his position a mere five weeks earlier, in part based on Cardinal Sin's strong recommendation.
<32> Recent trends in the representation of male homosexuality persist, even on the small screen. Four episodes from the television series, Maalaala Mo Kaya? (Will You Remember?), for example, have been compiled in DVD format, replete with explicit homosexual themes. Included among them are the individual segments, Cake (directed by Nuel Crisostomo Naval), Cell Phone (directed by Jerry Jeturian), Manikang Papel (Paper Doll, directed by Cathy Garcia-Molina) and Juice (directed by Jeffrey Jeturian). Their storylines expose, through the letters exchanged between real-life characters, the lives of two overseas contract workers (one homosexual and one straight) who fell in love with each other, a text-messaging romance between a transvestite and a straight guy, the unconditional love between a homosexual child and his brother, and a love affair between a gay man and a lesbian.
<33> Clearly, much remains to be done to erase longstanding misconceptions about homosexuality and to encourage a more liberal view toward non-heteronormative sexualities in a country heavily influenced by religious conservatism. The Philippine Cinema, given its accessibility to and the power of digital technology to lure filmmakers into viewing more daring forms of cinematic expression and representation, is making headway and moving in the right direction. The films produced by a new group of digital filmmakers are now paving the way for broader representations of gender and sexuality. The once marginalized figure of the masculine homosexual is now somewhat more readily presented; any notion that are in any way inferior to or are temporal substitutes for women is now slowly falling out of favor. Digital technology has provided the mechanics whereby a broader freedom from rigid societal norms might gain sway and, in turn, this has led to far more progressive portrayals of homosexuality within the context of Philippine mainstream society.
Acknowledgement: Unless otherwise noted, all images were acquired under a Creative Commons license.
Notes
[1] In 1983, Lino Brocka founded the organization, Concerned Artists of the Philippines (CAP), dedicated to helping artists address social and political issues confronting the country. He directed such landmark films such as Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang (1974), Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975), Insiang (1976), Bayan Ko: Kapit sa Patalim (1984), and Ora pro nobis (1989). In 1997, he was posthumously given the National Artist of the Philippines for Film award.
[2] The acquisition of digital projectors by major movie exhibitors as SM and Robinson's Malls is a welcome development for advocates of digital movies, at least in its earliest stages.
[3] The value of the Philippine Peso at the time of this writing is approximately 40 pesos to 1 US dollar.
[4] A common site for social protests and demonstrations, Mendiola Bridge is located near the university belt of Manila. It is near the Malacanang Palace (the Presidential Palace of the Philippines).
Works Cited
Cruz, Oggie. "Cinemalaya Resignation Letter." in Lessons from the School of Inattention (2 March, 2012); http://oggsmoggs.blogspot.com.
David, Joel. "Gross, Gaudy, & Gay (1987)." In The National Pastime: Contemporary Philippine Cinema. Pasig City: Anvil Publishing, Inc., 1990.
Debord, Guy. Society of the Spectacle. Detroit, MI: Black and Red, 1983.
de Jesus, Ramil. "The Turn to Digital: Revival of Film Culture in the Philippines." In Whither the Orient. Manila: Asia Culture Forum, 2006.
Phillips, Richard. "Arroyo Ban Film at Insistence of Philippine Catholic Hierarchy." World Socialist Website, 23 April 2001; http://www.wsws.org.
Tioseco, Alexis. "Shifting Agendas: The Decay of the Mainstream and Rise of the Independents on the Context of Philippine Cinema." Inter-Asia Cultural Studies 8.2: 288-300.
Tolentino, Rolando. "Transvestites and Transgressions: Panggagaya in Philippine Gay Cinema." In Queer Asian Cinema: Shadows in the Shade. Ed. Andrew Grossman. New York, NY: Harrington Park Press, 2000).
Yeatter, Brian L. Cinema of the Philippines: A History and Filmography, 1897-2005, (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company, Inc., 2007.
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