Katrina Stuart Santiago

My entry point to Nora Aunor’s icon was borne of the women around me as a child. First my mother, who is a Noranian—the kind that watched her critically-acclaimed films, was happy to hear Nora expanding her repertoire with Richard Merck, even if in 1980 she got the chance to do an interview with the Superstar, and was made to wait for so long and was limited to so few questions, confirming—and writing about—the urban legend that was the Superstar’s diva behavior.

The other woman was my first yaya. I have few memories of her, save for two: she was a lesbian, and she was a Noranian. Mama would buy her all the fan magazines with Nora on the cover, she would watch Nora’s movies on her days-off, and she treated Superstar on RPN 9 like weekly mass she needed to attend. For a stretch, she would constantly re-read these tiny pocketbooks that were Nora’s biographies.

Yet, I was no second-generation Noranian. As I told an audience of Noranians during a forum to discuss President Noynoy Aquino’s refusal to confer her the National Artist Award in 2014, I am of a generation that grew up choosing between the taray of Maricel Soriano and the pa-tweetums of Sharon Cuneta. The taray queen (of course) was my icon.

Now I realize that much of who Maricel (and later on Judy Ann Santos) could be as a popular icon was borne of Nora. The non-conforming, non-people-pleasing, real and truthful, complicated and complex woman, of a different shape, size, and tenor, with diverse inclinations—this was a path paved by Nora.

Growing up with Nora politics

Born in the mid-70s, I grew up knowing Nora Aunor as Superstar. My awareness of her was about the weekly TV show, where she sang, danced, and bantered with Kuya Germs and Jograd dela Torre. This version of her seemed more real, like she was free to be herself here, speaking in her signature quiet Tagalog, humble if not self-deprecating, enjoying the diverse songs she was being made to sing, throwing punchlines with the best of them when needed.

As I grew into socio-political awareness, Nora was a constant. She was Marcos loyalist who in 1986 appeared at the gates of Camp Aguinaldo for the EDSA Revolution, taking part in people power when it was time to kick Marcos out. We know of her loyalty to Erap, sure, as she would have it for FPJ—these are invisible showbiz ties that bind. Yet we also saw Nora cut those ties in 2001at EDSA Dos, when she came and stood with us as we kicked Erap out of office.

Popular politics has always had Nora, which is to say that my sensing of her as Superstar was as much about local pop culture as it was about the socio-political. Nora was one to appear at protests specific to issues, from higher wages for teachers to justice for victims of State violence, as she would endorse a diverse set of political aspirants every election (and even hope to win an election or two herself). This public persona is one that is heavily criticized, judged as being balimbing, with all its inconsistent political convictions.

Yet Nora might have been on to something.

Read the rest on Vera Files.

I do not doubt that there is a whole lot of reasons to continue discussing the impeachment of VP Sara Duterte, specifically whether it is right or wrong that Senate President Chiz Escudero is doings things at his own pace, and whether that puts the whole impeachment at risk and / or risking the possibility of getting an acquittal for VP Sara. I tend to think that SP Escudero is far smarter than all of this. He’s not new to this circus, and certainly has engaged long enough with politics in this country to know not to put even his own political career at risk by a failure to thoughtfully and carefully flesh things out, anticipate outcomes, adjust as things unfold.

And if your biases against Escudero don’t cloud your judgment, he actually made a lot of sense at that February 20 press con, talking about how the Senate, in fact, is taking the necessary steps it can take at this point in time, owing to the fact that the Senate is not in session, and many Senators are busy campaigning either for another term in office, or for other elective positions. He is firm in the refusal to rush the proceedings, or to call a session, and denies either side of the political spectrum to pressure him into doing or saying anything: “I will not dignify nor listen to partisan legal opinions or positions for or against the impeachment of VP Sara.”

At this point in our political discourse, that pretty much gives Escudero the license to ignore everyone. For good or bad, partisanship is the rule these days, not the exception. (more…)

The first time I saw Paolo Roxas on my Duterte-Marcos Tiktok algorithm was in December 2024. It seemed apolotical enough: the older brother arriving to the hugs and joy of siblings Pepe and Pilar. It was only then that I realized that this tall moreno was in fact Mar Roxas’s son. Soon enough it was clear that he was running for public office, and not because there was any campaign slogans or ayuda content—as I have seen in much of this Tiktok algo since mid-2024. Instead there he was, going around the community, speaking in the vernacular to manangs and manongs, playing with kids, throwing some high fives around. On Christmas there was some dancing, and recently, a video of him singing Top Of The World in a karindera. On Valentine’s there were the default jokes and content about love.

Across this whole time, no sloganeering, no early campaigning. Just content of Paolo walking riding a motorbike with a squad of bikers, or having fun with the community, and of course some videos with the special participation of Pepe and Pilar.

It was only last night when I realized that despite seeing Roxas content often enough, I actually don’t know what he’s running for. And while campaign strategists might say this is a bad thing, a failure of the campaign; I think it’s a welcome change from the same content from majority of politicians on this algorithm: trend-dancing (from Janette Garin to Bong Revilla, Bam Aquino to Kiko Pangilinan, Isko Moreno etal—Imee Marcos has been doing it since late 2023), giving out ayuda from ampaw (Isko Moreno) to appliances (Vilma Santos / Luis Manzano), to bigas (that woman fighting it out with Vico Sotto in Pasig), to anyone at all who campaigns with Speaker Romualdez—who looks like corruption personified.

This is a tiny fraction of what is on this algorithm every day. It really is a display of the utter shamelessness with which politicians mount their campaigns. And it’s easy to know what the majority of content is, because when Paolo Roxas comes on, and his content is devoid of all these things, it just stands out.

That, and the fact that he is obviously not his father’s son. There is a charm here that his father could not even begin to muster, a connection with community that is not about looking down on them.

Recently, I saw a photograph of Pres. Manuel Roxas on a Philippines Free Press cover, and I thought: he looks familiar. I meant Paolo. The charm is there, too. Must’ve skipped a generation?

It is telling that my next thought is: well, at least someone will give Sandro, Baste, etal a run for their money. ***

The thing with six years of a fascist leadership like Duterte’s, built on fragile masculinity and misogyny and violent rhetoric and male chauvinism is that it changes us culturally. Women and the LGBTQIA+ community are more sensitive, and therefore angrier, and rightfully so. We are also exhausted.

But the men. Oh the men.

It’s one thing to have had to deal with the likes of Banat By and Jeffrey Celis during Duterte years and the first years or so of Marcos governance when SMNI continued to give them a platform. It’s another thing altogether to find that even men who should know better, ones who claim they are better, media personalities even, can use exactly the same tone and tenor, the arrogance, the same machismo, as that which the six years of Duterte had enabled and encouraged.

And of course this could only surface at scale when they are talking about a woman like Sara Duterte. Because there is nothing like a woman in rage to get men frothing at the mouth. (more…)

In pandemic year 2020, when the Metro Manila Film Festival (MMFF) had to go online, and it was impossible to do the pomp and pageantry of what has been sold as an annual Philippine film “tradition”, Sen. Imee Marcos claimed it wholly and completely as a Ferdinand Marcos creation from Martial Law year 1975, when the best picture film was “Diligin Mo ng Hamog ang Uhaw na Lupa”.

We liked to dismiss the Marcoses’ claims to culture pre-2022, but none of what Senator Imee says there is a lie.

And despite little of it probably getting into your algorithm, neither is it a lie that in 2024, First Lady Liza Marcos was front and center (literally) of MMFF, not just in the photos for the launch of its purported 50^th year in July 2024, but also with her husband, PresidenAt Bongbong at the Konsyerto sa Palasyo para sa pelikulang Pilipino on December 16, and throughout the year, since February, ostensibly stepping into the Imeldific role of joining hands with film industry stakeholders on the promise of supporting the film industry. That the outcome of this is yet another cultural organization called CineGang, Inc. that’s supposed to promote local films to a global audience, which apparently means needing a fancy new office in Makati City, private investors, golf tournament fundraisers, and a Malacañang-hosted first meeting with the First Lady herself in November 2024, is a conversation for another time.

For now, the more important conversation is how it is that after 49 years, the MMFF is still lacking in transparency and credibility, and remains riddled by controversy. That it was created by Marcos Sr. during Martial Law speaks to why.

(more…)

Katrina Stuart Santiago

Katrina Stuart Santiago

Superstar High

The Metro Manila Film Festival: As Martial Law corpse