Why Bela Padilla keeps batting for Filipino films
When “100 Tula Para Kay Stella” hit cinemas in 2017, it became the top-earning entry of the Pista ng Pelikulang Pilipino, and ended the year as the 10th highest-grossing film in the Philippines, earning P100 million at the box office.
That was eight years ago. Regular ticket prices cost P200 on average. Streaming—led by platforms like Netflix, which had been available locally for just over a year—was gaining traction but had yet to become the dominant force it would be post-pandemic.
On Sept. 10, the sequel, “100 Awit Para Kay Stella,” will premiere in a much different moviegoing landscape: Ticket prices have nearly doubled—and now cost as much as, if not more than, a month-long streaming subscription.
What does this bode for the movie then? Lead actress Bela Padilla isn’t looking too far ahead, but she admits that it’s “not a secret” that this is a challenging time for the industry.
“This is my job. I should be paying for movie tickets. But even I find it expensive,” she tells Lifestyle Inquirer.
While streaming platforms have put theatrical releases at a disadvantage, Padilla says she can’t blame people for opting to just stay home and get their movie fix on a TV, computer, or phone.
“It’s difficult to compete with streaming at the moment—and I understand. On top of the tickets, you have to buy popcorn and drinks, and pay for your commute. And the thing is, life is hard,” she points out. “Sometimes, you can’t really help but think, ‘Hihintayin ko na lang [online],’ kasi mahal talaga.”
Soft power
There are still “once-in-a-blue-moon” hits, she observes, but for the most part, people tend to go out of their way for event films, especially major superhero flicks with larger production and promotional budgets.
But what the local audiences don’t realize, she says, is that production value and box office performance go hand in hand. “If we stop watching Filipino films, budgets shrink, which, in turn, takes a toll on production,” she says.
There have been recent efforts to make moviegoing more accessible. Some cinema operators have started offering discounted tickets for local movies—P275 in Metro Manila and P230 in the provinces—including for “100 Awit.” Price, however, is just one part of the equation. And the issue, Padilla surmises, may not just be a “cinema situation, but a society situation.”
Padilla won’t claim to know the solution, but what she does know is that local cinema must persist. It’s part of our culture, a way to show the world who Filipinos are as a people, the actress notes. “Dito tayo nagpapakilala—na ganito tayo magmahal, mag-isip, manamit.”
She cites Korean entertainment as an example of soft power at work in the Philippines, noting how the rise of K-dramas fueled demand for Korean groceries and restaurants. “When we watch the scenes and see the characters drink soju or eat bibimbap, that makes us want to try them out, too,” she says. And we have the opportunity to do the same, Padilla adds. “We can show the world na adobo ang isa sa mga ulam natin… that this is what we’re like at home,” she says. “The landscape is tough. But if we don’t keep on working, nothing’s gonna change.”
As far as “100 Awit’s” potential box office performance is concerned, Padilla isn’t fixated on surpassing or even matching the success of its predecessor. But so far, the reception to the promotional materials have been a “pleasant surprise.” “Grabe ang reaction,” she says.
Reading through people’s comments online reminded Padilla just how much of an impact “100 Tula” had—some couples who watched it together are now married; others have moved on to different partners. And if this new outing leaves longtime fans feeling satisfied, then that in itself, she says, is a good gauge of success.
15 years later
Set 15 years after the events of “100 Tula,” Stella (Padilla) and Fidel (JC Santos) still find themselves chasing their dreams and mending the frays of their lives. Stella, once a free-spirited but flawed aspiring rockstar is now doing fairly well as an events organizer. Fidel, a shy poet who poured years of unrequited love into 100 poems, still struggles with his speech impediment and has all but given up trying to fix it.
At an event, rising singer Clyde (Kyle Echarri) performs a song about “a girl with black lipstick”—a reference to Stella’s former signature look. There, a surprised Stella runs into Fidel, who reveals that he’s the ghostwriter behind Clyde’s songs, which he can’t perform himself due to his persistent stutter and stage fright. Turns out, all the songs are about her.
Things, of course, didn’t work out the first time: Stella, caught up in her ambitions and impulses, took Fidel’s loyalty for granted, and gravitated toward emotionally volatile men. And while Fidel was seen as a romantic underdog, he wasn’t without flaws; his idealization of Stella through his poetry could be seen as bordering on obsession. Their chance encounter, however, makes them realize that the love they have for each other never truly faded.
“Fidel still has lingering insecurities because of his speech impediment, but he has matured and learned to accept his past mistakes,” Santos says.
“This is Stella’s redemption,” declares Padilla, who feels that her character has been unfairly cast as the villain behind the failed romance. “Stella made some questionable choices, things I wouldn’t do in real life. Here, we show why she did what she did, and why she wasn’t allowed to make the choice people wanted.”
Banking on nostalgia
The sequel was years in the making, the product of “long, tedious back-and-forths and multiple script revisions.” Padilla and Santos are both fiercely protective of their characters and didn’t want to revisit them for no good reason.
But more than a tight script, the two stars are banking on nostalgia and their tested screen chemistry, which, more than kilig, seemingly thrives in melancholy. “Mapanakit” is how fans describe their tandem, a reputation further fueled by other heartbreaking films like “The Day After Valentine’s” and “On Vodka, Beer, and Regrets.”
“Some people say there’s a melancholic feeling when they see us on screen,” Santos says. “There’s kilig and hope, but also a lingering feeling of pain.”
For Padilla, the rapport comes from hard work, passion for the craft, and a little bit of luck. “The first film put me on the map, and I was taken more seriously as an actor as a result,” she adds. “And to think it was originally meant for other actors. It was given to us at the last minute, and the team-up worked. Maybe it was meant to be.”
