Are we blaming K-Dramas now?
Korean dramas and Filipino teleseryes can—and should—coexist in the same watchlist. (Photo from WhenInManila)
Last October 18, during a Senate budget hearing for the Film Development Council of the Philippines (FDCP), Jinggoy Estrada floated the idea of banning Korean dramas from airing in the Philippines to encourage patronage of locally-produced entertainment. You can imagine how that was received.
Estrada was the butt of many angry tweets, Facebook posts, and memes for days. In a moment of cosmic timing and irony, popular Korean variety shows Running Man and Knowing Bros premiered episodes featuring Manny Pacquiao.
Estrada went on to clarify that he didn’t intend to ban Korean media but expressed the idea as a frustrating thought he entertains every now and then as he mourns the apparent death of Philippine nationalism.
“South Korea’s phenomenal success is rooted in their love of country. It is high time that we follow their example and do the same for our own entertainment industry that is at best, barely surviving,” said Estrada in a Facebook post.
It’s a sentiment I’m familiar with as a K-Pop fan since before it was cool. It’s fluffier wording to the same nudging I’d get from friends and family for listening to music that “you don’t even understand” or scornful remarks of “tangkilikin ang sariling atin” (patronizing local) because I’m Filipino, not Korean.
Estrada was onto something: Compared to South Korea, our entertainment industry is struggling. But to chalk it up to love for country isn’t enough.
Beyond nationalism
Protectionism is a huge factor in Korean economic activity as a whole. Once used as a recovery method post-war and crisis to insulate domestic goods from foreign competition, it’s evolved into a society where business oligarchs dominate and dictate the Korean economy.
Korean patronage of Korean entertainment wasn’t simply born out of a heart of nationalism. It was manufactured to do so because of how much effort and money institutions poured into it.
In the 1960s, Korea imposed a screen quota system—which Estrada claimed he considered for local implementation—that limits the number of foreign films aired in cinemas by requiring a certain number of Korean films to be aired throughout the year. The reduction of the screen quota from 1998 to 2006 was met with protests from filmmakers like Bong Joon-ho and Park Chan-wook who feared the erosion of Korean nationalism.
(Decades later, Bong and Park would go on to win numerous international awards including an Oscar for Bong’s Parasite and a BAFTA for the latter’s The Handmaiden. The screen quota is still in place but its sustainability is questioned in the face of streaming and changing consumer behavior.)
Focused institutional research and development and funding would also birth what would eventually become South Korea’s mainstay cultural export: Hallyu or the Korean pop culture wave. Similarly, Japan has anime and manga which grew exponentially into an economic giant, and Thailand has its own rising soft power in the boys-love (BL) genre.
Unlike our Asian neighbors, it’s hard to say what Philippine entertainment gives the world at the same scale. Filipino teleseryes do enjoy a worldwide following but I don’t think it’s as closely tied to our national identity the way K-Pop or anime are for Korea and Japan.
If Jinggoy and Robin Padilla—both action stars-turned-politicians—bemoan a lack of support for Filipino productions, maybe it’s time to look into what exactly makes K-Pop, anime, and BL so prolific: Funding.
It's all about the money
In the 21st century, it’s more than obvious that money makes the world go around. And for global entertainment industries, it’s all the more important if they want to stay alive.
FDCP, the government arm tasked with ensuring the development of the local film industry, its promotion to different markets, and its film preservation efforts, received a proposed P245.35 million budget allocation for 2023. This is lower than its P282 million budget for 2022.
When asked why Filipinos love Korean entertainment, FDCP Chairperson Tirso Cruz III pointed to a lack of technological advancement for local filmmakers to take advantage of. Cruz, a former matinee actor, said that when he met with Korean film producers during the Busan Film Festival, they were highly supportive of the development of Filipino films. For Cruz, it just takes time.
The low pay might also be discouraging for many filmmakers, especially in an industry where production requires capital and investors. Issues in compensation are an open secret in the entertainment industry. So not only do institutions like the FDCP need funding, but money has to go down to production crews as well.
“Artista ka [referring to Estrada] dati pero never mong nagawan ng paraan na pwersahin ANG BIG MEDIA COMPANIES na siguraduhin na maayos ang work environment, sweldo, at job security ng mga TV and film workers,” tweeted director Rod Marmol.
(You are a former actor but never found a way to force big media companies to ensure that TV and film workers have good work environments, salaries, and job security.)
It’s another challenge to develop Filipino plotlines beyond the molds studios have shaped for themselves. Local producers are challenged to create outside the typical MMFF line-ups of Vice Ganda comedy and dramatic shootouts with over-the-top and cheesy cinematography of primetime TV. But on the flip side, that’s what sells.
The Metro Manila Film Festival (MMFF) of 2016 mostly featured independent films and was considered a refreshing line-up of drama, horror, and comedy. However, the sales were well below what the MMFF was used to, amounting only to P400 million compared to 2014, 2015, and 2017 which hit over P1 billion.
We can’t blame audiences for having a preference for the familiar, especially if they want to watch something relaxing or easy to follow after a long day at work. But it wouldn’t hurt anyone to have more variety in regular offerings and not rely on annual film festivals to make up for it.
Pinoy pride
It seems like the problem isn’t with foreign entertainment, being aired locally, making our own productions uncompetitive. In fact, it opens up opportunities for localization industries like voice dubbing. But the local media landscape, with financial help from the government, has to put money into quality content over just easy fail-safes like the countless teleseryes we have about cheating husbands, foreign remakes, and bad boy-good girl stories that have taken up much of our broadcasts.
Innovation can birth victory. We’ve made it happen time and time again.
The success of Netflix’s Trese put Filipino animation on full display during a monumental shift toward digital streaming and consumption. P-Pop, led by groups like SB19, molded itself after K-Pop but has captured the hearts of fans at home and overseas. Erik Matti’s On the Job became the first Filipino show on HBO Asia and is the country’s submission to the Emmys. Its movie predecessor, On the Job: The Missing 8, saw John Arcilla win the Volpi Cup for Best Actor at the Venice Film Festival.
The talent pool exists. It just requires a lot of investment of time, skill, support, and of course cash flow. So if Jinggoy and Robin want us on par with the likes of Squid Game and Parasite, I say: Get to work, idol.
