As midday strikes, the familiar routine of watching cable television bears a Filipino rhythm, carried out by the art of dubbing. From the quirky antics of Western cartoons to the high action of anime, dubbing has transformed countless forms of media into Filipino experiences.
By adapting shows into the local tongue and humor, dubbing bridges both linguistic and cultural gaps between viewers and international works. What began as an attempt to broaden accessibility, reduce production costs, and provide an alternative to typical teleseryes has blossomed into a wider cultural phenomenon. After all, it is through dubbing that Filipinos can explore other worlds while remaining close to home and making it their own.
A voice of our own
Dubbing has existed in the Philippines long before the rise of digital platforms. As DLSU Department of Filipino Prof. Ramilito Correa explains, it first reached the country through dubbed anime and telenovelas, which allowed Filipinos to follow translated stories in their own language. With televisions becoming household staples by the 1990s, dubbing quickly secured its place in the hearts of the masses. “They’re the ones looking for relaxation at the cheapest cost. And of course, nothing was more affordable than watching TV,” Dr. Correa explains in Filipino.
Unlike subtitles, which split the audience’s attention between text and screen, dubbing makes it feel as if the characters themselves were speaking in Filipino. This experience of hearing beloved characters come alive in one’s own language is part of its magic. For veteran voice artist Jefferson Utanes, the craft demands creativity, timing, and teamwork. “Hindi pwedeng itina-translate mo lang [nang] basta-basta,” he emphasizes. “Babagayan mo rin ‘yung character [at] ‘pag [sa] humor naman, kailangan ‘yung ma–gegets din ng tao.”
(You can not simply translate word-for-word. You have to suit the character, and when it comes to humor, it has to be something people will get.)
This is where dubbing transcends translation and blends into localization. In tandem with writers and dubbing directors, lines that carry foreign punchlines are altered to deliver localized knockouts. As Utanes reiterates, “Nauso ang localization ng mga pelikula [para] maabot [ito] ng masang Pilipino.” Filipinos are able to relate as if the stories were written for them from the start. What emerges then is not a mere adaptation, but a distinctly Filipino retelling, stitched together by local writers, directors, and dubbers.
(The localization of these films became popular so they could be more accessible to the Filipino masses.)
The unseen and unheard
More than adjusting foreign shows to the Filipino palate, dubbing helps maintain the pulse of our own culture. For Correa, dubbing is an industry mainstay. He attributes this to its accessibility and, in return, profitability. “Dubbing in Filipino is very effective because it increases [audiences]. And every network’s objective is to increase the ratings,” further elaborating in Filipino.
Additionally, dubbing spotlights our national language, crucially preserving our heritage amid an increasingly globalized landscape. Correa notes that younger generations who mostly consume English media may benefit from “direct” access to dubbed shows, which, sometimes, prove to be easier learning experiences than what is taught in classrooms.
Yet behind the scenes lie the unrecorded struggles of dubbing. Utanes laments the industry’s writer shortage as scripts are the core of their job. “Kapag walang writer, siyempre wala kaming i–dadub,” he stated. He also points to exclusive “factions” among dubbers, which, according to Correa, creates a monopoly wherein the same group is acquired by producers for the roles, barring opportunities for novices.
(If there are no writers, of course, we won’t have anything to dub.)
As such, Correa echoes the need to professionalize translation. This would involve the recognition of translation as a full-fledged career with fair compensation, and where clear distinctions are set between dubbers and translators. Currently, dubbing and translation do not require formal education, despite the act itself being studied “professionally” by those in the field. With its professionalization, its status as an informal side job could improve into one with a just and structured system.
A more external predicament is a lack of regard for their craft. Filipino dubbing is often ridiculed and labeled as “cringe.” Utanes is no stranger to these kinds of sentiments, often receiving comments like, “Ay, Tagalog” or “Ayaw namin ng Tagalog dub.”
(Oh it’s Tagalog.)
(We do not like the Tagalog-dubbed version.)
Utanes shrugs it off, stating that they can’t please every viewer. “Basta ang gusto lang namin ay maintindihan ito ng madlang people, ng masang Pilipino,” he affirms, emphasizing the important role of language in dubbing’s ability to connect across cultures.
(All we want is for the general public, or the masses, to understand it.)
Room for more
To truly embody the cultural nuances embedded in scripts of dubbed adaptations, Utanes stresses the importance of range and vocal play to a voice artist’s versatility: “In the voice acting industry, kailangan marami kang nagagawa. Kailangan maglaro ng boses.”
(In the voice-acting industry, you need to be able to do a lot. You need to play with your voice.)
From low, gravelly voices of antagonists to energetic tones of young heroes, this active exploration is what Utanes, now a voice acting trainer, deems necessary to cultivate. Beyond matching the movements of animated mouths, the work demands a character study in the same way as stage or screen acting would. As he puts it, “Voice acting is real acting, not just doing funny faces.”
The ability to transform into the character is vital not only to an actor’s growth, but of the industry as a whole. For Utanes, what rewards it even more is the growing appreciation and curiosity of certain crowds. This response points to how dubbing, despite limitations, has steadily matured over the years, thanks to the constant refinement of its artistry.
Like the Filipino language itself, dubbing is a reflection of an integral cultural identity that will be lost if we do not fan the fires that sustain it. As Correa puts it, “Kung ayaw mo mawala ‘yung [Filipino], gamitin mo.” With the fuel of passionate support and both budding and veteran talent, dubbing’s flame will live on.
(If you don’t want Filipino to be lost, use it.)
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s October 2025 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSOct2025.
