Even if they don't always give stellar performances, movie stars shine in the theater of Philippine politics.

by Luz Rimban

BEFORE the 1960s, the only actor to have conquered national politics was popular matinee idol Rogelio de la Rosa, who won a seat in the Senate in 1957. Four years later, he ran for president as an independent candidate against reelectionist President Carlos P. Garcia of the Nacionalista Party and top-notch lawyer and congressman Diosdado Macapagal of the Liberal Party.

De la Rosa withdrew from the presidential race a few days before the election, ostensibly because his campaign had run out of funds. Personal ties were also likely to have prevailed: De la Rosa gave up his own ambitions to make way for Macapagal, his brother-in-law and boyhood friend from Lubao, Pampanga.

Rogelio de la Rosa was the kind of leading man packaged as dashing, debonair and decent. Keeping up his showbiz image, he did what he probably thought was the proper thing to do: turn his back on a fight he knew he wasn't going to win.

These days, it would be unthinkable for an actor to come that close to the presidency and walk away from it. Then again, showbiz and politics have changed some since the 1950s.

By the latter years of that decade, the movie studios were replacing the Rogelio de la Rosa-types with the rough and gruff type of bidas embodied by the likes of Joseph Estrada. This new breed of lead stars was packaged as unschooled underdogs who never backed away from battles. In the world spun on the silver screen, these actors would get their fair share of beatings but end up victorious against even the most powerful enemies.

These were the kind of celebrities the growing number of masa identified with at a time of social upheaval and rapid change. Toward the end of the turbulent 1960s, Estrada would himself venture into politics, running for mayor of San Juan town, which he would rule for 16 years.

In 1987, exactly 30 years later, Estrada would reprise de la Rosa's entry into the Senate. Although martial law had by then irreversibly changed Philippine society and politics, Filipinos expected the Senate to remain what it was before 1972: an arena where de la Rosa would be at home but where Estrada would be way out of his league. Yet most Filipinos also had the nagging feeling that Estrada the underdog would survive, just like he always did in his movies.

Everyone now knows how Estrada's political story ended. But even after he fell, it was he, and not de la Rosa, who would serve as a model for succeeding generations of celluloid world-celebrities aspiring to break into the world of politics.

With the exception of Ramon Revilla, most of the current crop of showbiz personalities entered politics through local government. It is here where they build up a base of mass support, learn the ropes of governance, or exploit their positions for media mileage.

A seat in local politics — the path Estrada opened — remains the route of choice, as seen by the number of actors and actresses who ran for councilor, vice-mayor, mayor, or for seats in provincial government in the last two elections. A limited geographical area and number of voters, as well as highly personalized politics make the local arena the easiest entry point for showbiz celebrities hoping to make the shift to the real world.

There was another factor in the Estrada formula that helped others win: their being action stars, the ultimate screen heroes. For all his flaws, Estrada will always be the goon-punching Asiong Salonga or Kumander Alibasbas to the Filipino movie-going and voting public, in the same way that Revilla will always be remembered as the hero wielding anting-anting (amulets) against the forces of evil. In a male-dominated society where the macho always wants to have the last word (or punch), Estrada and his kind inspired generations of Filipino toughies ready to pick a fight or even pull a trigger at the flimsiest excuse.

The worst aspects of Philippine politics rubbed off on Estrada, too. He established his own dynasty in San Juan, something that Ramon Revilla hopes to replicate in his home province Cavite, and Lito Lapid, in Pampanga.

To be sure, not all show biz personalities succeed at politics. There are many more who sought but didn't find roles in the political theater, for various reasons. And then there is an area off-limits to actors — the House of Representatives, which remains the bastion of clan and patronage politics, where seats are mostly inherited from family members or won by doling out huge amounts of campaign funds.

Having a household name, however, remains a movie or TV personality's most enviable asset, one that can win a place in national politics as Estrada has demonstrated or one that can fight political machinery and money in places like Kalookan or Cavite where strongmen have found their match in movie stars.

It is difficult to build an unblemished reputation in politics these days, when many others compete for the limelight and where the unrelenting nose of modern-day media could sniff out scandal and strike down those with the smallest secrets to hide. But Pinoys seem to be more forgiving and tolerant of showbiz personalities with their scandal-ridden lives.

Years ago, political parties simply rode on these stars' names by hiring them to entertain voters in the mitings de avance or political rallies of election campaigns. Today politicians either marry into showbiz names to boost their chances or political parties attempt to "own" these names by recruiting stars into the fold, the better to sprinkle party-mates with the pixie dust of fame.