In the Philippines, the topic of queerness has always been in an odd limbo between acceptance and rejection. It is not necessarily indifference, as many Filipinos simultaneously accept and admonish the LGBTQ+ community. This stagnance is evident even in the local film industry.
While the country is no stranger to presenting queerness on the silver screen, it often portrays a stereotype. LGBTQ+ actors like Vice Ganda are frequently cast in the same tired eccentric gay character that audiences point to and laugh at. Opportunities to tell authentic stories of the queer experience are instead packaged into playsafe content to market to the majorly conservative Filipino viewership.
But this is changing. As Filipinos grow increasingly conscious of LGBTQ+ experiences, the demand for stories telling genuine queer stories has skyrocketed. The critical success of movies like Die Beautiful, which weaves a narrative of trans acceptance in an unaccepting environment, has audiences hungry for movies just like it.
For many LGBTQ+ individuals, film is their chosen weapon of resistance. Jason Liwag, a screenwriting professor and film programmer for the Quezon City International Film Festival, credits the role of independent film in this transformation. In the age of the Internet, aspiring filmmakers can showcase their art to millions for free, allowing a general audience to see the world from a perspective that often goes unheard.
Seeking genuine representation
Philippine cinema has not always painted queerness with vibrance. In its earlier years, these portrayals were monochromatically limited to archetypal characters. “Medyo limited or wala at all ‘yung queer love [stories],” comments Department of Communication Lecturer Fatrick Tabada, who wrote for the dark comedy piece Patay Na Si Hesus. “Why are we only talking about gays [as] crossdressers or queer people as parloristas…it’s much harder to find a compendium of similar size about lesbians, for example, right?” Liwag also probes.
(There is little representation of queer love stories.)
Harmful as they were, both Liwag and Tabada acknowledge that these stereotypes still paved the way for queer representation. There is nothing wrong with the outlandish parlorista as they do exist in real life, but Tabada stresses the need to shed light on the nuances of queer characters. “[It’s] more about how they’re perceived; how well we flesh these characters out. [Because if a character] is poorly written, that’s a bigger injustice,” Liwag says.
Multidimensional queer characters make them more relatable for queer audiences who seek authentic representation on screen. For one, Pao* (III, AB-CAM) feels that it is through colorful films that he finds a safe space to relate to, such as by dressing up in the same flamboyance as Vice. “[Kasi] nung bata ako, ‘di ko naman alam ‘yung mga [queer] terminologies. So it kind of helped me in becoming the person I am now,” he ponders.
(Because when I was younger, I didn’t know all these queer terminologies.)
Much like the experiences of Pao, themes central to the queer community are now more accessible on the big screen. “I think that’s also tied to this boom in short films. Because of digital filmmaking, it became much cheaper and it could be done by everyone,” Liwag posits. As technology makes filmmaking less far-fetched, LGBTQ+ films and filmmakers themselves now conveniently and effectively reach broader audiences who are in different stages of exploring their queerness.
Sublimation of the queer
The redundancy of certain archetypes, entertaining as they are, can strike as reductive of the queer experience. For instance, these characters are often resigned to providing comedic relief and little else. And even when given center stage, queer leads might come across as one-note when remaining positive in the face of strife, written to stay digestible for viewers.
On this constraint from screenwriters, Liwag notes, “There’s this pressure to sanitize or sand the most complicated parts of ourselves.” It is a form of censorship that is imposed by studio heads in order to cater to wider audiences by playing safe. In turn, such expectations have pressured writers into necessitating these measures for their work to be greenlit. Studios may not realize it yet, but presenting solely agreeable queer protagonists can make plotlines fall flat. Uninhibited authenticity resonates best, as depicting a story that is shameless can impact even non-queer viewers.
Alternatively, it can be limiting to expect LGBTQ+ films to be proponents of societal progress. “By trapping it in this frame of importance or education, we’re losing out on so many stories and we’re devaluing different types of filmmaking,” Liwag muses. After all, the purpose of this medium is to tell all sorts of stories—the new and the old, the inventive and the derivative, the relatable and the downright insane.
Girl, boy, bakla, tomboy, et cetera
Although it should not fall onto queer filmmakers alone to hold the audience’s hand along the way, it is through risk that the breadth of on-screen stories can expand beyond what studios have cycled through for decades. “Nagkataon lang talaga na I’m a queer [person] and I love telling queer stories. So, ngayon, I think sobrang helpful din ng film sa pagpalaganap ng [LGBTQIA+] stories,” explains Tabada on how personal experiences can mold passion projects. Simultaneously, these need not be the sole driving force behind the topics explored.
(It just so happens I’m a queer person and I love telling queer stories. So, now, I think films are very helpful in the proliferation of LGBTQ+ stories.)
Queer Philippine cinema is only beginning to stretch its legs, and where it is headed is still a blank slate. Filmmaking as a whole has become much more accessible given the wide array of video-capturing equipment available across price ranges. Anyone can pick up a lens and create, perhaps even making for a much more raw and intimate encapsulation of varied experiences.
With this shift, inspired individuals who seek to venture into the unknown are both able to spin tales sans studio censorship and seek appreciation. “What I’m liking about this crop of filmmakers that are emerging now is that they’re less interested [in] explaining the culture because the expected reader is no longer the cisgender, straight audience member,” observes Liwag of the paradigmatic shift in viewership, which makes it so queer storytellers need not service certain parameters.
There is plenty of excitement and ambition now that there is room to deviate from formulaic expectations of what queerness should be. And it allows for more than one type of narrative to triumph.
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s March 2025 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSMarch2025.
