Elvin Amerigo Valerio

Feminine Foremothers and the Cinematic Construction of the Dalagang Filipina 

Volume 1 Number 2 /

ABSTRACT:  The discourse on Philippine cinema has been predominantly shaped by a masculine perspective, with critical acclaim and scholarly focus primarily directed toward male filmmakers associated with Philippine cinema’s so-called “Golden Ages.” Such tendencies have overshadowed the contributions of women on and off-screen. This essay highlights a previously unacknowledged feminine film tradition in Philippine cinema. Using Luce Irigaray’s concept of a “female imaginary and a female symbolic” as a framework, I focus on three influential female producers—Narcisa “Doña Sisang” de Leon, “Mother” Lily Monteverde, and Charo Santos—who significantly influenced the artistic development of mainstream Filipino cinema by dictating the kinds of movies their respective studios produce and shaping the representation of the “Dalagang Filipina” (Filipino Maiden) on screen that mirrored the gender politics of the time. By examining their contributions, I seek to establish a “maternal genealogy” within Philippine cinema, recognizing these women’s impactful yet historically overlooked roles in fostering a feminine-oriented filmic tradition.  Keywords:  Philippine cinema, gender dynamics, female representation, feminist theory, female imaginary, female symbolic  Introduction: A Historical Elision  In her celebrated 1971 polemical essay, the distinguished art historian Linda Nochlin (2010) raised a provocative question: “Well, if women really are equal to men, why have there been no great women artists?” (p. 264). Nochlin’s ostensibly straightforward interrogation marked one of the initial articulations addressing the conspicuous dearth of women within the artistic canon. She contemplates whether this absence substantiates the pervasive belief in the universal inferiority of women’s art or serves as evidence that prevailing standards for evaluating artistic works were fundamentally devised by men for men. Nochlin’s essay brings to light the inner workings of canon formation, exposing the unconscious acceptance of the male viewpoint as the default, thereby establishing an overtly masculine aesthetic paradigm in art that resulted in the marginalization and trivialization of women’s and, more broadly, feminine artistic practices. Her question has led to the realization that women’s engagement in art is not an unfettered, autonomous endeavor. On the contrary, artistic creation unfolds within a social context and remains substantially mediated and influenced by specific male-dominated institutions.  Similarly, much of the discourse on cinema in the Philippines is informed by a masculine frame of reference. The corpus of scholarly literature on the history of Philippine cinema primarily concentrates on pivotal historical junctures, identified as “Golden Ages” (e.g., Lumbera, 1992, 2011; Sotto, 1992; Francia, 2002; J. David, 2018; Deocampo, 2023a). Each golden age is marked by a surge in artistic and creative works spearheaded by a cadre of predominantly male directors who emerged in each period. Lamberto Avellana and Gerardo de Leon are hailed as among the foremost auteurs of the First Golden Age in the 1950s. The Second Golden Age, from the mid-1970s to the 80s, is marked by the groundbreaking oeuvres of directors like Lino Brocka and Ishmael Bernal. Lastly, the rise of independent filmmakers such as Brillante Mendoza and Lav Diaz defined the Third Golden Age, which began in 2005 and lasted until the 2010s. This prevalence of a male-centric perspective can be attributed to the establishment of the Manunuri ng Pelikulang Pilipino (Critics of Philippine Cinema), the first and foremost film critics group in the country. Founded by a group of ten young men in 1976, the Manunuri has forged a framework for film assessment deeply rooted in Aristotelian realism, filtered through the lens of Soviet-era socialist realism and post-World War II Italian neorealism (see: Tiongson, 1983, 2001, 2010, 2013). Therefore, it is not surprising that the Filipino film canon is brimming with realist dramas about the everyday struggles of the working class, which are mostly made by male directors. Since it was established in 1976, the Manunuri releases at the end of each decade a list of ten films they acclaim as “Mga Natatanging Pelikula ng Dekada” (The Outstanding Films of the Decade). From the 1970s to the 2010s, there were only two female directors―Marilou Diaz-Abaya and newcomer Rae Red―whose films made the list. Furthermore, more than half of the fifty films on the list are realist dramas that explore themes of poverty and social injustices. Today, this seemingly masculine-oriented approach to film evaluation is not only practiced by the members of the Manunuri but has become the standard by which Filipino films are appraised by critics and studied by scholars and academics (e.g., Chua et al., 2014; Tolentino, 2014, 2016; Campos, 2016; Deocampo, 2022; Capino, 2023).   The hegemony of realism and the masculine viewpoint has marginalized the study and critical examination of women both in front and behind the camera. Marilou Diaz-Abaya remains the only female filmmaker given serious attention by critics even though there has been a significant rise in the number of accomplished women directors in the past twenty years, e.g., Olivia Lamasan, Rory Quintos, Joyce Bernal, Cathy Garcia-Sampana, Antoinette Jadaone, and Irene Villamor1. On the other hand, the study of women onscreen has been mostly limited to the character stereotypes in countless melodramas, such as the girl next door, the submissive wife, the suffering mother, or the object of male sexual desire (e.g., E. Reyes, 1989, pp. 43-49; Tolentino, 2000; Gutierrez, 2009; J. J. David, 2015; Sanchez, 2015; Deocampo, 2023b, 2023c). As such, there is an obvious lack of female figures for film scholars and artists to study, read, engage with, or regard as role models or innovators. It was Luce Irigaray (1993) who suggested that a “fully realized alterity” for womanhood and femininity can be achieved through the conceptualization of “a female imaginary and a female symbolic” including the recognition of a “maternal genealogy” (p. 71). This translates to a disengagement from the dominant discourse and the construction of a maternal genealogy, i.e., a matriline or “mother line” in Philippine cinema.   In this essay, I address Linda Nochlin’s question by shedding light on the existence of a feminine film tradition that has operated alongside and, in many ways, affected the dominant masculine narrative. Adopting Luce Irigaray’s philosophy as a framework, my essay aims to establish the groundwork for recognizing a “female imaginary and

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The Little Brown Brother “Shoots” Back:
Postcolonialism in Filipino Cinema at the Turn of the Century, 2000-2010 

Volume 1 Number 1 /

ABSTRACT: Throughout most of the 20th century, the dominance of Hollywood hindered the development of a distinct film identity and tradition within Philippine cinema. However, from this seemingly uninspiring state, a vibrant independent film community emerged and thrived during the first decade of the 21st century. This transformation was made possible by the introduction of more accessible digital video cameras in the 1990s. The digital medium provided independent filmmakers with the opportunity to explore various storytelling approaches centered around Philippine realities, which resonated with younger audiences. This paper posits that Filipino independent, or “indie,” cinema experienced a surge in creativity during the first decade of the 21st century and established what I refer to as a “postcolonial aesthetic” to counter the dominance of the Hollywood cinematic structure. I draw upon the ideas of Renato Constantino and Bienvenido Lumbera as my primary framework to trace the trajectory of independent and mainstream Filipino cinema during this period. Through an examination of two films from that era—one independent (Ded na si Lolo [Grandpa is Dead], 2009) and one mainstream (Baler, 2008)—I argue that Philippine cinema truly came into its own between 2000 and 2010, and its unique characteristics continue to influence the post-Covid era. Keywords: Cultural imperialism, American hegemony, Philippine cinema, period movies, independent films The movie industry is both a victim and an ally of American cultural aggression. It is a victim precisely because it is an ally of Hollywood, not by conscious design but by the conditioning effect of decades of exposure to Hollywood movies. At the same time, it is an ally in the sense that the Hollywood model is pervasively the frame of reference […] Hence, the movie industry is a reflection of Philippine society for it is the clearest and simplest depiction of the neo-colonial situation.                                                                               – Renato Constantino (1977, p. 131)   In just a few sentences, Renato Constantino was able to accurately describe the state of the Philippine movie industry of his time. American cultural imperialism has reduced the industry to a caricature of Hollywood. If Hollywood had Charlie Chaplin, we Filipinos had Canuplin, a vaudeville comedian whose appearance and gestures resembled Chaplin. If James Bond/Agent 007 is an international super spy (and unremitting ladies’ man) of the British government, Filipino movies used to have Tony Falcon/Agent X44, also a super spy (sans the “international” label but an unremitting ladies’ man nonetheless) with thick sideburns as his trademark. In the age of the Hollywood blockbusters in the 1980s as exemplified by Ghostbusters, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and Dune (all released in 1984), Filipino comedy king Dolphy starred in a movie that referenced all three – Goat Buster: Sa Templo ni Dunê (Goat Buster: In the Temple of Dunê, 1985). Indeed, the specter of Hollywood movies since the beginning of the 20th century has stunted the development of a distinctly Filipino cinema, and the cinema that the Filipino movie industry conceived was a mere distortion or poor imitation of Hollywood. Lacking technological resources and skilled artisans, the movie industry simply did not have the means to be at par with the Hollywood films that it was trying to imitate; and in the absence of a clear artistic vision, movie producers simply resorted to doing mostly parodies and spoofs as film production was primarily regarded as a commercial venture intended to produce a quick profit. Therefore, despite the industry’s considerable output from the 1950s up to the 90s and the fact that movies were once known as the country’s “national pastime” (David 1990), only a handful of films today are hailed as cinematic gems. What we have in abundance are senseless flicks anywhere from Sabi Barok Lab Ko Dabiana (Barok Said I Love Dabiana, 1978) to Wrong Rangers (1984, a parody of the Lone Ranger film and television series) to movies with absolutely meaningless titles (e.g., Horsey-horsey Tigidig-tigidig, 1986; Haba-baba-doo! Puti-puti-poo!, 1998; Tiktaktoys: My Kolokotoys, 1999; Isprikitik: Walastik Kung Pumitik, 1999).    Likewise in the 1990s, advancements in film technologies (e.g., the introduction of CGIs or computer-generated images) combined with America’s push for globalization paved the way for the spectacle cinema of Hollywood to systematically dominate all modes of cinematic imagery, production, and reception, resulting in a standardized film culture not just for the Philippines but for most of the world. Unable to keep up, the movie industry’s production declined. From an average of two hundred films annually in the 1970s and 80s, the output has gone down to an average of fifty per year since 2003 (Alberto, 2008, para. 3).   However, at the onset of the twenty-first century, the Philippines saw a surge of independent, or “indie” films produced by a new generation of filmmakers. This was made possible by the introduction of the high-resolution digital video camera in the 1990s. The changing of format from celluloid film to digital video freed the independent filmmaker from the high costs of mainstream filmmaking and the commercial demands of the studios. It gave them the liberty to tackle more unusual or controversial subject matters and present new modes of storytelling. By 2005, indie cinema took center stage when two film festivals exclusively devoted to digital indie films were established – the Cinemalaya Independent Film Festival and the Cinema One Originals. In its first year alone, the hugely popular festivals produced now-classic indie films such as Auraeus Solito’s Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros (The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros), Doy del Mundo’s Pepot Artista (Pepot Superstar), Mario Cornejo and Monster Jimenez’s Big Time, and Jon Red’s Anak ng Tinapa (A Kipper’s Child). In 2009, indie filmmaking reached its peak when Brillante Mendoza became the first Filipino to win the Best Director award at the Cannes Film Festival for his unapologetically brutal film Kinatay (“The Execution of P”).  Inspired by independent

The Little Brown Brother “Shoots” Back:
Postcolonialism in Filipino Cinema at the Turn of the Century, 2000-2010 
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