Celebrating the life and legacy of the one and only “Superstar” Nora Aunor

Aunor, also popularly known as “Ate Guy”, stood out with her brown morena skin in an industry peopled by fair, mestiza actors. She won hordes of fans when she was paired with Tirso Cruz III as the love team Guy and Pip. She sold numerous records, mounted jam-packed concerts and made blockbuster movies from mainstream melodramas and musical comedies to experimental auteur films. Her musical variety show, Superstar, which ran for 19 years, made its final bow in 1989. It had brief resurrections in the early Nineties, totalling a 22-year run, earning the record as the longest-running television programme of its kind until it was surpassed by ASAP.

Her career had its ups and downs, as did her personal life. She and husband Christopher de Leon separated around the same time, leaving their five children (one biological and four adopted) to her care.

Read more: On faith, loss and miracles: Aicelle Santos brings new depth to Elsa in ‘Isang Himala’

A genius amid controversy

Like all celebrities, Aunor had her fair share of controversies, intrigues and scandals. But her talent still managed to shine through.

Her career’s pivot in the Nineties was not marked by the manic shrieking of her early superstardom. Rather, it matured profoundly and elevated Aunor from superstar to serious actor.

Besides continuing to make acclaimed films, she reprised her role from her 1976 film Minsa’y Isang Gamu-Gamo for its stage adaptation by the Philippine Theater Educational Association in 1991. She eventually starred in two more stage plays: essaying four characters in D.H. in 1992, and finally testing her classical artistry in the Greek play The Trojan Women in 1994

She made her teleserye debut in 2002 alongside other notable female leads in Bituin, a musically inclined soap opera about mother-daughter relationships and the cost of stardom, which received critical acclaim. After her 50th birthday concert in 2003, Aunor went on hiatus and moved to the United States to perform in concerts.

Drug-related charges and the botched plastic surgery she underwent in Japan marred her career, costing her the National Artist nomination in 2014 and even permanently damaging her singing voice. And yet, she remained unfazed, unintentionally reminding critics and fans alike that her achievements in the past and present are enough for her to be given due credit as a true artist in her field. Amidst intrigues, she returned to soap operas with other television networks and fell in love with independent films where storytelling is key. Restorations of her iconic and award-winning films in recent years reminded Filipinos of her stellar acting prowess. They poured deeper appreciation for the Second Golden Age of Philippine Cinema over which she reigned supreme.

During the necrological service offered by the CCP and the National Commission for Culture and the Arts before her state funeral in the Libingan ng mga Bayani (Heroes’ Cemetery), colleagues and friends shared what made Aunor a “Superstar”.

“I first worked with Guy in Himala… When she delivered Elsa’s monologue in the final scene before thousands of film extras, mostly Ilocanos who didn’t understand a word she said, I saw how she had a way of connecting with the masses that didn’t need words,” shared fellow National Artist Ricky Lee, who penned the screenplay of the 1982 film.

“She walked up to the stage, shushed almost 3,000 extras so we could begin filming that scene,” recalled dear friend and frequent collaborator Joel Lamangan. “I’ve seen how she prepared for her characters. Ate Guy told me she would embody them, as if they were her. I told her, ‘Wow, just like in method acting by Stanislavski. Then she said, ‘Who’s that?’”

Because she also came from a state of poverty and strife, Aunor was able to empathise not only with the roles she portrayed but also with her audience. Lee and Lamangan believed this, affirming that she was a “Superstar” simply because she was a reflection and embodiment of an ordinary Filipino, and that behind the camera, she journeyed with them.

Often unsaid and unreported is that behind the star’s shine was a philanthropist, particularly to her fans, crew and staff. She also supported actors who revived her iconic roles in the stage adaptations of her critically acclaimed films, Bona and Himala. She would watch them on the side, unannounced, so as not to give them any added pressure, then walk up onstage during the curtain call to offer them flowers.

Granddaughter Janine Gutierrez related a moment with Aunor during the special tribute segment of the variety show ASAP last May 4. “I witnessed how she was able to radiate happiness towards other people. Whenever she encountered someone, she treated them like family; even budding actors in the industry, she would be a mother to them. I would hear stories of how she made them feel loved and accepted. I think that’s why many adore her so much.”

Aunor had long battled COPD, as shared by her eldest daughter, Lotlot De Leon, during the final night of the wake at Heritage Park. Her mother flatlined two years ago, but recovered, enjoying precious extra time to spend with her family and make her final television appearance. On April 16, she flatlined twice, succumbing to her failing health.

“I wanted you to know the truth from us. This is what happened,” said Lotlot, after reading her mother’s last and endearing message to her. “For the brief chances that I got to be with my mum [in her last years], I am deeply grateful. I was able to say everything I wanted to tell her. She shared her life with the public, with all of you, and I know she would be thankful.”

She may have received countless awards here and abroad for her craft, dubbed “Superstar” throughout her life. But just like how Handog goes—a song by Florante that she made a version of later—she would be remembered as someone who dared to reach impossible dreams and deeply touched the hearts of many through her gift to the people who welcomed her to their hearts.

It is well known that Aunor, despite her success, was shy. Without the camera lights, she was always meekly trying to avoid attention in social events amidst crowds. And the words of respect, po and opo, remained part of her vocabulary, even as she had conquered worlds so far away from her life of peddling peanuts and water in the province.

Her pregnant pauses, impactful accents, and searing eyes whenever she embodied a character were effective tools for sharing the plight of Filipinos from all walks of life. And in her heart, music delivered the silent cries, bliss, and hopes of the people she gave voice to.

Befitting of such superstardom, petals of roses and gold confetti showered over her coffin as it left the Metropolitan Theater, as uninterrupted applause and cheering ushered her out. The worlds of music and film have so much to thank Aunor for, a legacy that will inspire generations to come and talk to them about the one and only Superstar.

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