The filmmaker reflects on queer cinema, representation, and creating space for stories that challenge expectations.

PHOTOGRAPHY Joseph Bermúdez
CREATIVE DIRECTION Paolo Chua
STYLING Markarvin

What does your world look like creatively these days?
My world looks like, or rather, I hope it looks like a world where I’m trying to strike a balance. I feel like I have enough projects in different pots: one for projects that help me make a living, one for my personal work and one for work I do for other people. I’m trying to balance all of that out. So I hope it looks like a very balanced creative world.
How has your work changed compared to when you first started, especially as you’ve grown more comfortable with yourself over time?
I’d like to think, especially with my personal work, that nothing much has changed. But what I hope has changed and what I’m actively trying to change are the processes and mindset that go beyond the work. Because when you talk about the “work”, I’m still trying to achieve the same things creatively. But then the question of sustainability comes into play. Not even just financial sustainability, but emotional sustainability. When you make work that’s super personal, the burnout manifests in a very different way from just being overloaded with work.
After my Cinemalaya film, actually even before that, because I did a series and a film right after each other, I remember saying I was going to stop commodifying my personal life for my work. The most obvious manifestation of that is whenever I go through something personal in my romantic life, my friends’ automatic reaction is, “Oh, the next film is gonna slap.” That’s when I realized I needed to draw a hard line. I needed to stop commodifying myself for my work. So now, when I talk about sustainable work practices, it’s about finding inspiration that doesn’t directly come only from me. That way, I can keep doing what I want to do for a longer period of time.
It’s not that I’m giving less of myself. It’s more that the inspiration doesn’t solely come from things happening in my life anymore.
What kinds of stories, people or perspectives do you find yourself gravitating toward lately?
As I’ve grown older, the version of myself I want to see on screen has changed too. I always say I want to see myself on screen, but now that self looks different. Before, I was dealing with messy 20-something love stories. Now I want to see two women getting married on screen. I want to see people in 10-year relationships. What I’m really interested in now is not love at first sight, but what happens to love after a long period of time. What does that kind of love look like? How does it still stay kilig after all those years?
I’m also interested in people finding love later in life. How do you approach romance after you’ve already gone through your first love, your situationships, your heartbreaks? What does romance look like through that lens? I’m also very interested in what a later-in-life coming-of-age story looks like. There’s this expectation that once you’re an adult, you’re supposed to have everything figured out, but the reality is that we don’t. And I think that’s really interesting.
As someone working in a creative industry, do you feel like there’s more space now for different perspectives and identities than before?
Yes, I hope so, but it’s still not enough. Actually, when I started, there was more noise. Now I feel like we lost momentum a bit. There are fewer films like mine being made. There’s this disconnect where, yes, there’s more space in certain areas. Drag shows have taken over Philippine media. There are more out celebrities. Social media has become a platform for people to tell their own love stories. But in traditional media, there still isn’t enough space. People always message me or comment online and think I’ve just been chilling, but I always say I’ve pitched more than 10 films since Rookie, and none of them have been greenlit. That’s why so many of us are forced to make space on TikTok, YouTube and other platforms, because the decision-makers in traditional media are still mostly the same decision-makers from years ago. I don’t think enough headway has really been made there yet.

Have you ever felt pressure to present yourself a certain way in your industry?
Yes, of course. Not just in the industry, but in life. I always talk about the pressure of being the token queer girl in the room. I carry that with such a sense of responsibility. I feel like I can’t fuck this up or else I’ll be fucking it up for other people too. But at the same time, in the spirit of trying to become a more sustainable person, I’m also trying to unlearn that pressure.
What kind of conversations do you hope your work opens up?
My greatest wish is to make people realize that we’re all the same. My favorite comments or DMs come from straight people. The most recent example was from Reddit. Someone asked for the best rom-coms in the Philippines and people were listing all the usual titles, then this random guy commented, “Billie and Emma,” and he said, “I’m not even gay”. That makes me so happy because it means the film transcended identity in that moment.
It’s important for me to speak to the audience I want to speak to, but I also think that when people are able to find commonality with someone different from them, they expand their empathy for that person or that group. If someone watches Billie and Emma and connects to it emotionally, then hopefully they’re more likely to stand up for gay rights, or see two women walking down the street and have more respect or understanding.
Ultimately, that’s the goal. That’s also why I try to make my films bright and beautiful. I want people to see that at the end of the day, we’re the same. And if we’re the same, then why don’t we deserve the same rights as everyone else? I always joke that my films are gay propaganda. I make films that make people want to be gay.
What parts of yourself naturally find their way into your work, even unintentionally?
I think it’s the way I see love. People always say the endings of my films feel bitin because they never explicitly have happy-ever-after endings. Especially with some of my older films, people would ask, “What happened to them?” But for me, happily ever after doesn’t necessarily mean people end up together. I advocate more for people growing individually or finding happiness on their own than simply finding joy in each other. So I think that perspective on romantic love is super obvious across all my work. Also, my fashion sense; I’m very particular about styling, so one of the characters is probably always dressed like me.
At this point in your career, what excites you most about where your work could still go?
People mostly know me for narrative work, but my two latest projects are actually documentaries, which is the field I originally started in. My only [Gawad] Urian nomination is even for Best Documentary, which I don’t think people know. What excites me now is being able to straddle both worlds. I’m excited for my storytelling not to be just one thing. I’ve also been taking projects for other people that explore completely different genres and subjects. At this point in my career, it’s about figuring out how to bring my point of view into different genres, not just queer cinema, but beyond it.

MAKEUP Luis Buñag
HAIR Charlotte Justiniani
LIGHTING DIRECTOR Rojan Maguyon
PHOTOGRAPHER’S ASSISTANT Ruby Pedregosa
STYLIST’S ASSISTANT Amer Jheck Afghan R. Franco

Creative Freedom: Samantha Lee

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