A scene from 'Call Me Mother'
Out of all the movies she has done in her colorful career, Vice Ganda's latest film "Call Me Mother," which is part of this year's Metro Manila Film Festival (MMFF), is not to be missed or ignored — not because watching her every Christmas has become a tradition, but because it reminds viewers why she is a cultural icon.
But what exactly qualifies her as a cultural icon — as seen through the lens of her newest film?
When one uses the term "cultural icon," it refers to a figure who can be relied on in times of need, not only motivating people but also reinforcing the idea of community and bridging the divide. Yes, there’s a superficial aspect to it that some may characterize as simply being extremely well-known. But beyond the fame lies the sense that there is someone out there who is big, relatable, and dependable.
Proven via numerous box office successes, Vice is the only gay artist who can bring families of all backgrounds together in cinemas every Christmas. The fact that viewers accept her for who she is without demeaning her or her role — a trait of a true cultural icon or “mother” — makes it phenomenal.
Particularly among the LGBTQIA+ community's little gays and queers, Vice's status as a cultural icon is something to admire and appreciate. There is a figure they can rely on. Who would have imagined that a gay comic could dominate the box office? It's giving mother!
Vice appears again this Christmas, a difficult season for many Filipinos given the current political atmosphere. And so does her character Twinkle, a queer mother who shows up extraordinarily with a twinkle in her eyes and expects nothing in return.
Her participation at the film festival is both a gift and a phenomenon, as it comes at a time when many Filipinos are sad, discouraged, or hopeless (unlike previous Christmases, this year is dimmer).
Behind her character’s name in "Call Me Mother” is a person who also experiences dimming; her days aren't always glittering, but she manages to hide it with a smile and laughter.
Against the backdrop of happy faces and vibrant objects in a queerly remarkable Disneyland scene, Twinkle is shown in pain — a true Jun Lana cinematic showcase.
Twinkle may not have a body capable of bearing children, but she cares. She may be broken, but she is full of love. She may be unconventional, but she is still human.
The way the director creates Twinkle is symbolic; it pays tribute to all Twinkles out there. Every city has Twinkle and Angelo (played by Lucas Andalio). And, in every Angelo's eyes, a mother is defined by what twinkles within the heart, not by gender.