From black-and-white to rainbow to colour blind: how is mass media’s LGBTQ+ representation faring?

Stereotypical and overtly dramatic portrayals of the LGBTQ+ community have been evident in Filipino films and television shows, especially when it was starting in the Seventies and Eighties. But instead of the Western definition and expression of otherness or queerness, what our mass media reflect is the concept of bakla “that hovers at best between” (Vibal and Villegas, 2020) “male homosexuality, transgenderism, transvestism, and effeminacy” (Manalansan, 2000), which is found more “loud” and unabashed in its expression of queerness.

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Dolphy arguably had the most number of “black-and-white”, stereotypical bakla representations in Philippine cinema. His filmography includes the monumental Jack and Jill (1954), which was the first film to foreground the bakla as its main protagonist (Vibal and Villegas, 2020), where he starred opposite Lolita Rodriguez as his tomboy jeepney driver sister. Together, they illustrated a comical filial relationship between a gay man and a tomboy.

The King of Comedy continued portraying the bakla in lighthearted comedies, such as Facifica Falayfay (1969), Fefita Fofonggay viuda de Falayfay (1973), and Sarhento Fofonggay: A, Ewan! (1974), to name a few. This is in contrast with the portrayal of another revered versatile actor, Eddie Garcia, of a closeted homosexual tragically doomed in Lino Brocka’s 1971 film Tubog sa Ginto. Eventually, Dolphy followed suit in portraying a more nuanced representation of the bakla as seen in his 1978 film Ang Tatay Kong Nanay, also directed by Brocka. Meanwhile, in 1982, Danny Zialcita reunites onscreen entertainment rivals Nora Aunor and Vilma Santos in a lesbian love-themed neo-noir crime drama film, T-Bird at Ako. Vibal and Villegas (2020) deem this progression as a “marked departure” from the stereotypical personification of the ostracised homosexual. However, with the melodramatic plot of Ang Tatay Kong Nanay, we still see the bakla as an openly gay parlorista, trying to conform with the heteronormative society by forcing himself to act like a cisgendered heterosexual to his foster son. While in T-Bird at Ako, we see the lesbian lawyer (portrayed by Aunor) experiencing unrequited love, as her woman of interest (portrayed by Santos) ends up in a heterosexual happily-ever-after.

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On television, the portrayal of the bakla was also stereotypical and reflective of the growing oversimplification found in the films of the time. The character was not in the foreground, as what was commercially viable then were the melodramatic soap operas about conflicts of social classes and teenage romance. Instead, we saw the likes of Eagle Riggs and Ogie Diaz portraying sidekick characters as a friend or a cousin, designed to serve as comic relief or to help viewers recall previous story developments through their talkativeness. What’s worse is that these characters would have no romantic pursuits or storylines of their own.

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This limiting portrayal of the bakla as “black-and-white” prevailed on the silver screen with the likes of openly gay character actors Soxie Topacio, Bernardo Bernardo, and Manny Castañeda, using their background in theatre. Roderick Paulate was perhaps the most commercially successful at the time, where bakla representation finally took the lead in his numerous Eighties films and TV sitcom participation in the Nineties and 2000s.

Trans academic and activist Mikee Inton, in her essay “The Bakla and the Silver Screen,” highlighted the re-shifting of the bakla gaze, leading to the rise of the macho dancer genre in the Eighties and Nineties.

We’ve seen characters in Ishmael Bernal’s 1971 film Pagdating sa Dulo and Brocka’s Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975) merely implying they “have done the deed” in exchange for a favour or money. But, Brocka later changed the game in 1988 with his provocative film Macho Dancer, “practically invent[ing] this genre of poor gay male teens forced to migrate to the big city and become strippers and are thus pulled into the underworld of prostitution, corrupt police, drugs, and sexual slavery” (Vibal and Villegas, 2020). Other filmmakers and production houses followed suit in the Nineties and early 2000s, marked by both mainstream and independent films highlighting the commodification of men under the bakla gaze.

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The 2000s, on the other hand, “ushered in an exhilarating new age of so-called indie films, or those outside the gaze of the mainstream and very much aided by the proliferation of digital technologies, with gay and lesbian filmmakers fully exploring the new technology’s liberating possibilities” (Vibal and Villegas, 2020).

Although still with traces of stereotypical bakla representation and the provocative bakla gaze, indie films like Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros (2005) by Auraeus Solito, Ang Lalake sa Parola (2007) and Ang Lihim ni Antonio (2008) both by Joselito Altarejos, Ang Sayaw ng Dalawang Kaliwang Paa (2011) by Alvin Yapan, and many more have made waves locally and internationally for showing multifaceted intricacies at play in the plight of the LGBTQ+ community. Lesbian films were also given more spotlight, such as Ang Huling Cha-Cha ni Anita (2013), Baka Bukas (2016), and Billie and Emma (2018), to name a few. By dabbling on themes of coming-of-age, identity, generational trauma, exploration of carnal pleasures, HIV/AIDS, rape, mental health, and more, the era did engage in more liberating storytelling.

Having now a more “coloured”, three-dimensional approach in telling queer narratives, we’ve seen the rise of more compelling and intriguing film in the independent cinema. There was Ara Chawdhury’s Cebuano-language comedy and sci-fi mashup Miss Bulalacao (2015). J E Tiglao’s coming-of-age drama film Metamorphosis (2015) featured an intersex protagonist, portrayed by straight actor Gold Azeron. Jun Robles Lana’s critically acclaimed film, Die Beautiful (2016), and its sequel series, Born Beautiful (2019), also made waves internationally.

The progression on television was somewhat different. For decades, the coming out process or outing somebody had been labelled as shocking and seen as big news in the industry’s culture. Headlines were made if any celebrities were spotted acting outside of their projected image as a ‘matinee idol’. If in the case they are already openly gay, their romantic pursuits were something kept under wraps. Hence, when GMA News and Public Affairs launched Out! in 2004, the first of its kind in Southeast Asia, it opened doors for visibility and acceptance for the elusive LGBTQ+ community in the country. However, the programme didn’t flourish and had to close after three months.

Talk shows and variety shows, although primarily a women’s platform, would continue to be inclusive by featuring queer icons like Boy Abunda, Allan K, Jobert Sucaldito, Tim Yap, and IC Mendoza as figures of authority amid the intrigues. Eventually, television hosts Vice Ganda and Paolo Ballesteros would change the game by expanding their spheres of influence through social media platforms and film.

It was not until long-running drama anthologies like Maalaala Mo Kaya, Magpakailanman, and Wish Ko Lang began incorporating queer narratives that the television industry start to take it seriously. GMA produced more diverse soap operas, such as My Husband’s Lover (2013), The Rich Man’s Daughter (2015), and Destiny Rose (2015), which were well-received by general audiences. Ironically, straight actors still portrayed the LGBTQ+ protagonists in these shows.

Before the pandemic hit in 2020, there was already a growing interest in the Boys’ Love genre that the Thai entertainment industry had been banking on for years. Also known as BL, this genre introduced queer romance stories in the contours that is palatable to heterosexual female and homosexual male audiences, utilising the pleasant aesthetics found in Korean and Chinese dramas.

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The IdeaFirst Company of Lana and Perci Intalan found a way amid the pandemic to produce their first foray into BL via YouTube. Gameboys found immediate success, not only as one of the first Filipino BLs but also because of its appealing storytelling, relevance to the times, and the cast’s acting prowess. Other production houses followed suit, ranging from the most provocative to the most entertaining. Clever Minds Inc produced the first mainstream BL genre film in the same year for the Metro Manila Film Festival, The Boy Foretold by the Stars, top-billed by openly gay actor Adrian Lindayag. Eventually, the film’s sequel (Love Beneath the Stars) was released in a limited series format exclusively available on the streaming platform, iWantTFC.

Besides several BL series available for free on YouTube, Netflix and other streaming platforms, ABS-CBN used BL storytelling in its ensemble shows like A Soldier’s Heart, Senior High and High Street, for its other lead characters. Moreover, the drag community penetrated the reality television space with Drag Race Philippines and Drag Den. Lastly, Sparks Camp rose to fame for its dating game format while also expanding the conversation on gendered identities and sexuality.

There are numerous other films, television shows, actors and celebrities that fill up the long ‘queerstory’ of LGBTQ+ representation in mass media, and the space here wouldn’t be enough to list them all. But going back to the question I raised early on, we have seen that it took decades for ‘persons of letters’ to have proper representation. For so long, straight actors proved their versatility on the silver screen by daring to go the bakla route. But instead of deepening the stories that shed light on the plight of the LGBTQ+ community, they cemented preconceived misconceptions and oversimplification. Some films and television shows dared to really uphold the dignity of LGBTQ+, earning critical success for the right reasons.

Iyah Mina, in 2018, became the first transgender woman to win a Best Actress award in the country for her outstanding performance in Mamu; and a Mother Too. Paolo Ballesteros earned Best Actor awards at the Gawad Urian and the 29th Tokyo International Film Festival for his portrayal in Die Beautiful. The thought-provoking Iti Mapukpukaw was chosen to be the Philippines’ entry to the Oscars. Rather than looking at this pessimistically, we can see this as an opportunity to achieve an even higher goal.

As news of Gameboys having its third season is circulating, I recall my interview with Intalan when I asked him what industry change in LGBTQ+ representation he is proud of making through the phenomenal BL series, he said, “When the people started to become ‘colour blind’... that was a big step in the right direction.”

Perhaps having straight actors portray LGBTQ+ characters is not the problem or the issue at hand. But how these characters are being portrayed is what we should look at closely. Are they still the black-and-white characters introduced to us? Or have they become more realistic and humanised that labels and gender politics become secondary, if not unimportant, for us to appreciate the various colours of the rainbow flag?

With queer stories’ current state now, making it into mainstream and independent mass media, unfurling all their complexities and rawness, and showing the urgency in making legislative and social changes, we may learn to finally read the bakla within the frame of baklaan, where there is solidarity in diversity and integration in inclusivity.

References:

1. Adam, B. (1995). The Rise of a Gay and Lesbian Movement, Revised Edition. New York: Twayne Publishers
2. Bellah, R. N. (1985). Habits of the Heart
   Individualism and Commitment in American Life. Berkeley: University of California Press
3. Inton, M. (2016). The Bakla and the Silver Screen: Queer Cinema in the Philippines [Doctoral thesis, Lingnan University]. Digital Commons at Lingnan University
4. Manalansan, M. IV. (2003). Global divas: Filipino gay men in the diaspora. Durham: Duke University Press
5. Vibal, G. and Villegas, D. (2020). In Co, T. (Ed.), Philippine Cinema 1897-2020. Quezon City: Vibal Foundation, Inc.

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