The Philippine Film Animation Industry and Its History of Captivity LONG TAKE
A
review of the few existing literature on Philippine
film animation explicates a history that can
generally be situated along three interrelated
streams: the form’s mutualism with comic arts, or komiks as it
is known in the vernacular; its intervening relationship with
political and institutional entities; and its industrialization,
collocated in the proliferation of domestic animation studios.
Of the three, I seek to critically analyze only the third, setting
aside the other two for merited discussion at another time.
Specifically, this article aims to surface how the development
of Philippine animation as an industry articulates captivity as a
modality of postcolonialism.
While related to its usage in the social sciences,
particularly its ties to western conquest and its denotation as
the practice of literally capturing peoples, I simultaneously
borrow the term and notion of captivity elsewhere: from the
field of business. A captive unit in business parlance is defined
by Ilan Oshri in his book Offshoring Strategies: Evolving
Captive Center Models as an offshore entity established by
and operating for, or mainly for, a parent company.1 Captivity
can thus be understood as the state in which a subordinate
entity is legally owned or controlled by a superordinate. I
extrapolate this definition to explore captivity beyond but close
to its business notion, arguing that captivity in the cultural
sense has also betided the Philippine animation industry.
Moreover, I discuss how the captive state of the industry has
been mated with nationalism. On the other hand, decolonizing
counterflows to captivity are also leveled.
Defining Captivity
Using the homonym “captive” to identify overseas
subsidiaries, particularly those attached to multinational
corporations, invites scrutiny on the humanist origins of the
term, which aligns with its modern business usage. Called
captivity narratives, accounts of North American settlers
literally held captive by pirates, natives, and other “others”
comprise a genre in colonial discourse buoyed by ideological
undercurrents that construct the subjectivity of both captives
and captors. However, Paulin Turner Strong in her book
Captive Selves, Captivating Others demonstrates that such
narratives have traditionally been selective in their telling
and retelling, lending a rationale for violent conquest under
the pretext of civilizing. For instance, the well-known Native
American figure Pocahontas’s captivity was largely uninscribed
in Anglo-American colonial history. This erasure can be
understood to be due to her capture and subsequent alliance
with settlers contradicting the hegemonic and oppositional
representation of the dual English as captive and “Indian” as
captor. To borrow Strong’s term, this typification, among others
of captivity, dominates colonial historical narratives that have
ROLAND CARTAGENA since come to represent Euro-American identity.2
108
In cinema, captivity narratives have often been associated
with motifs concerning the body, engendering the concept of
the captive body. How film is exploited to construct corporeal
images elucidates its performative role in othering and of
“containing” its subjects. According to Gwendolyn Audrey
Foster in her book Captive Bodies: Postcolonial Subjectivity in
Cinema, the trope of the body in bondage and captivity is itself
only a simulation of reality, preserving into order gender, racial,
sexual, and colonial binaries such as masculinity and femininity,
whiteness and blackness, heterosexuality and homosexuality,
and ultimately, captivity and freedom which are all apropos
to experienced reality.3 Incidentally, film itself bears captive
connotations in its active vocabulary. Foster touches upon
phrases such as to “shoot” a film, to “capture” images, and to
be “captivated” by the cinematic spectacle to suggest film’s
cinematographic affinity with captivity, conceiving the camera
as a captive apparatus whose gaze consequently implicates its
holder as the captor, figuratively.
While early captivity narratives were authored to
legitimize the perceived threats to western colonial enterprises,
my usage of captivity upends this traditional notion. It alters
the authoritative representation of the Euro-American
colonizer as captive, shifting the locus of rhetoric from one
that is exclusionary to one of accountability. The conventional
narrative frames the imperial settler as the victim and the
“others” as the enemy, respectively, but I appropriate the term
captivity to mean the opposite. By dislocating the role of the
colonizer as captive and restoring his role as captor, I reprise
captivity into a colonial condition leveraged for and not against
the colonized. Through this understanding, to be held captive
is to be subjected to colonialism and bound within colonial
parameters. This subverted definition becomes my basis for
positing how captivity is reified in the postcolonial era.
In the wake of capitalism, the western colonizer has
reconfigured itself into a monopoly, albeit fulfilling the same
ideological function of conquest, this time through the mode
of international trade. Aptly, these monopolies, as exemplified
by the global animation industry, more often than not own
and control offshore business entities, which have come to
be known as “captive” centers or units, drawing the parallel
between this operational and the aforementioned colonial
notion of captivity.
Besides a reversal of the traditional captive-captor
role, postcolonial captivity can be differentiated territorially.
Whereas in traditional captivity narratives, subjects are
captured and held in foreign territory, in modernity, captive
entities are held within their own territory, “captured” by the
commercial dragnets of expansionist corporations. Control
forfeited, an entity is then, following Strong’s notion, rendered
captive by its dispossession of power, not unlike the uninscribed
capture of natives by settlers whose exercise of superiority is
109
 LONG TAKE
typified by such collection of othered individuals as tokens.4
A treatment of captivity distinct from its Eurocentric gaze,
therefore, articulates, on the one hand, colonial subjectivity
from the standpoint of the captive or colonized and subverts,
on the other, traditional power relations by coalescing the role
of captor and colonizer as one and the same.
Having laid out the article’s critical purview, what follows
is a history of the Philippine animation industry viewed
through the lens of captivity. I peregrinate across the major
domestic studios and works emerging from the industry to
discursively demonstrate its entanglement with captivity,
positioning the Philippine animation industry as a critical site
in Philippine postcolonial discourse.
Nascency in Advertising
Before progressing into its present state, Philippine
animation had roots in the postwar era when cartoonists and
illustrators like Jose Zabala Santos, Francisco Reyes, Larry
Alcala, Jeremias Elizalde Navarro, and Vicente Peñetrante
dabbled with the form.5 Early accounts suggest that domestic
animation, among its start, found sustenance and subsistence
on the turf of television advertising. According to John A. Lent,
Santos produced animation for commercials in 1952 under
the Philippine Manufacturing Company (PMC).6 Following
Cynthia Roxas and Joaquin Arevalo Jr.’s account, Santos joined
PMC in 1949 then left the company in 1970 and subsequently
worked in Reyes’ advertising agency, which also did some TV
ads for PMC.7
In 1955, Santos and Reyes produced the animated
commercial Juan Tamad in which Santos’s nephew Nonoy
Marcelo, who would later become a notable figure in animation
himself, also had a hand in making. According to Marcelo,
though processed in New York, the commercial advertised the
local product Purico,8 a vegetable shortening brand and a
portmanteau of Spanish puro and rico. Juan Tamad had the
namesake of a popular character in Philippine folklore and was,
Marcelo asserts, the longest animated commercial at the time,9
although Nick Deocampo reputes the film did not have its
run.10
Meanwhile, Larry Alcala worked for Universal
Promotions in 1956, doing commercials for clients such as
Darigold and Caltex, the latter for whom he drew characters
such as two enthusiastic gas station servicers eager to do their
job. According to Deocampo, the 15-second black-and-white
advert that featured the characters was shot with a 16mm
Bolex and shown on TV, while Alcala’s 35mm commercial for
Darigold appeared as film ads in cinemas and on television.11
This antecedence of Philippine animation as primarily an
advertising tool and thus an extension of selling proprietary
goods harbingered the form’s eventual concession to the
110
dominant business process outsourcing model in the decades
that followed, mainly serving the commercial interests of
foreign entities.
The Two Early Major Studios12
The expensive outlay for starting a full-fledged animation
facility in the country inhibited, on the one hand, the
formation of possibly but one major Filipino-owned studio
in the 1980s and spurred, on the other, the trend of service
exportation, which proved to generate higher profit margins. In
1983 or a year later, Optifex International, Inc. was established
along Salcedo Street in Makati, a Filipino outfit founded
by Chito S. Roño that likewise engaged in producing local
TVCs and OBBs. In an interview, Nelson B. Caliguia Sr. said
that although primarily service-oriented, Optifex had aspired
to create Filipino narratives and envisioned adapting a fable
best known as a retelling of Jose Rizal’s childhood—the tale
between the moth and the flame, but the film never came to
fruition.13
Around the time Optifex was established, another studio
operated along the same street in Makati, bearing the name
Burbank Animation, Inc. (BAI). According to Giannalberto
Bendazzi, the outfit was a subsidiary of Australian animation
company Burbank Films and became known as the first
instance of a foreign-owned animation facility to incorporate
into Southeast Asia.14 While initially providing ink-and-paint
work, Dan Torre and Lienors Torre observes that BAI later
variegated, offering professional services such as storyboarding,
animation, inbetweening, layouts, backgrounds, editing, mixing,
and photography.15 In a personal interview, Achiu So recounts
that among the projects the studio received were sourced from
Marvel Productions through Sunbow Productions, which
commissioned BAI for The Care Bears (1986–88), Defenders of
the Earth (1986–87), and My Little Pony (1986–87).16
The perceived gloss of BAI, effectuated by impressions
of a workplace where the shows being made were for famous
American names such as Marvel, and where women animators
were seen wearing boots and dresses to work as opposed to
the plain-clothed employees of Optifex, attracted a number
of the latter to transfer to the Australian studio and marked
what would be the onset of labor poaching between the two
companies, consequently compelling Filipino animators into
moonlighting. As a former employee of BAI and Optifex
recalls, he found himself working for the Australian studio
during the day and then for the Filipino studio at night.
The mature animation background of BAI, however,
coupled with its enticing higher wages, arguably gave it the
upper hand over the neophyte Optifex. The offshore studio
not only produced animation for local commercials—with
Larry Alcala among those it commissioned17—and TV shows,
LONG TAKE
but also did portions for full-length television films adapted from
literary classics. Following Torre and Torre’s account, these were
workload forwarded from and principally handled by Burbank’s
main studios in Sydney.18 Examples of such animated features
were Alice Through the Looking Glass (1987), The Odyssey (1987),
Black Tulip (1988), Hiawatha (1988), and The Corsican Brothers
(1989).
Bendazzi notes that some 80 Filipino animators and five Defenders of the Earth
(Marvel Productions, 1986–87). Images
Australian trainers originally comprised the workforce of BAI, but are author's screenshot of the shows
their number grew twofold in less than three years,19 owing to the
studio’s expansion of its reach globally. Indeed, according to Lent,
BAI provided services to countries like France, Belgium, New
Zealand, and the United States.20 In its heyday, Torre and Torre
states that BAI’s staff rose to about 500 employees.21
Meanwhile, Optifex pursued advances of its own in
positioning itself more competitively. In an interview, Chito S.
Roño said its management flew to the United States to directly
engage with a potential partner,22 and as early as 1986, Optifex
My Little Pony
had thus served as a contractor to Hanna-Barbera, an American
(Marvel Productions, Sunbow
monolith in animation production. That same year saw William Productions, Hasbro, 1986–87)
Hanna, creator of Tom & Jerry and co-founder of Hanna-Barbera,
personally visit Optifex to oversee its animation work. Foofur
(1986–88), The Jetsons (1962–63; 1985; 1987), Snorks (1984–88),
The New Adventures of Jonny Quest (1986–87), and Scooby-Doo and
the Reluctant Werewolf (1988) were some of the western shows and
features the local studio had a role in animating, in addition to
contributing to iterations of The Flintstones and Yogi Bear, among
other cartoons.
Alice Through the Looking Glass
Optifex’s moves were to be confronted with a caveat, as (Andrea Bresciani and Richard
Slapczynski, Burbank Films Australia
Hanna-Barbera planned to establish its own subsidiary in the 1987)
country. The initiative spearheaded by Jerry Smith, a Hanna-
Barbera associate who had previously successfully planted
operations for the company in Australia, Taiwan, and South
Korea, led to the formation of Fil-Cartoons, Inc. The studio was
incorporated in November of 1987 and eased into the local
animation scene, becoming the official Philippine appendage of
Hanna-Barbera.
Optifex, on the other hand, had arrived at its tail end. Benji
Agoncillo recounts that by the last quarter of 1988, Optifex The Odyssey
(Warwick Gilbert and Geoff Collins,
stopped receiving work from Hanna-Barbera23 and eventually
Burbank Films Australia, 1987)
folded. The vagaries of business also led to the closure of BAI,
and not long after, of its parent company. Their cessation
was portended when New World Pictures acquired Marvel
Productions along with Marvel Comics Group in 1986. Following
the move, there were bids to have BAI similarly acquired by
the American firm, but sources indicate a buyout never
eventuated.24 Bankruptcy soon shuttered business for BAI, and in
1989, Burbank Films itself divested. 25
Black Tulip
(Franco Cristofani, Burbank Films
Australia, 1988)
111

Foofur
(Hanna-Barbera Productions, 1986–88)
Snorks
(Nic Broca, Hanna-Barbera
Productions, 1984–88)
Scooby-Doo! and the Reluctant Werewolf
(Ray Patterson, Hanna-Barbera
Productions, 1988)
The Fil-Cartoons, Inc. logo
112
LONG TAKE
The Rise of Fil-Cartoons
In what seemed to be a triumphant maneuver for Hanna-Barbera, the
decline of BAI and Optifex became the conduit for the pool of talent from
both lapsed studios to converge into Fil-Cartoons. Agoncillo recounts that
its production was initially housed in a makeshift office in Luna Mencias,
Mandaluyong, then relocated to the corporate buildings along Emerald
Avenue, Pasig, before returning to Mandaluyong to occupy an enormous
facility26—said to be the largest of its kind in the world at the time, as
claimed in its promotional advertisement27—fulfilling outsourced work for
many of the popular animated shows in the United States where its parent
company was headquartered. In 1989, Fil-Cartoons exceeded the employee
count of BAI at over 900 according to Margaret Parkes, one of the animation
directors based in the studio at the time and among the contingent Australian
staff who managed Fil-Cartoons initially.28 By 1993, Jonathan Karp reports
that the studio’s workforce had peaked at nearly 1,000.29
Although Fil-Cartoons was long-lived and operated for more than 12
years, as with BOI’s fate, it eventually ended business in 2001. By then, the
studio had accumulated a lengthy project portfolio, having serviced not only
Hanna-Barbera but also other media and entertainment giants such as Fox,
Dreamworks, Disney, and Saban.30 Some of the animated films and series
the studio had worked on in various capacities were Snorks (1984–88), Police
Academy: The Animated Series (1988–89), The Smurfs (1981–89), Meena (1991),
The Pirates of Dark Water (1991–92), The Ren & Stimpy Show (1991–96), The
Addams Family (1992–93), Daisy-Head Mayzie (1994), The Legends of Treasure
Island (1993–95), Dexter’s Laboratory (1996–2003), Johnny Bravo (1997–
2004), The Powerpuff Girls (1998–2003), The Mask (1995–97), The Magic
Pudding (2000), God, the Devil and Bob (2000), Joseph: King of Dreams (2000),
Juanito Jones (2001), and many others. The studio also contributed to the TV
franchises of then-popular western cartoon characters, namely Paddington
Bear, The Flintstones, Yogi Bear, Jonny Quest, Tom and Jerry, Scooby-Doo,
The Jetsons, Cow and Chicken, Donald Duck, and more.
The animation work for most of these titles passing through Fil-
Cartoons was not always outsourced solely to the studio but divided among
one or more production houses in other countries. It was not uncommon
for Hanna-Barbera to hire multiple service providers in order to distribute
the work required for various aspects of its film projects, as did other major
production companies at the time. Such an arrangement does not necessarily
preclude prime contractors from subcontracting other studios, hence the
assembly of a hierarchical and elongated pipeline that is often witnessed in
the production of full-length animated films, for which hundreds of workers
are employed and thousands of yearslong workhours are rendered.
In the same manner, Fil-Cartoons not only received requests from
clients directly but also partnered with other studios as a subcontractor, if
not as a co-servicer. Wang Film Productions in Taiwan, Mr. Big Cartoons in
Australia, AKOM Production and Saerom Animation in South Korea, and
Jade Animation in China, among others, were some of the overseas studios
that had worked on the same projects as Fil-Cartoons. Collaboration also
occurred at the local level, with Fil-Cartoons having subcontracted other
outfits in the country, such as Philippine Animation Studio, Inc. (PASI)
which it considered an ally.31
LONG TAKE
PASI of Malaysia
Contrary to its name, PASI was also a captive entity that originated
as an enterprise of Malaysian-Tamil business magnate Ananda Krishnan.
The Makati-based studio was established in 1990 and similarly grew,
as with the production houses before it, to employ a sizeable workforce,
comprising, according to Carol Espiritu, of about 400 in-house artists and
150 freelancers in 1996.32 Some of these individuals originally came from
Fil-Cartoons, who were themselves formerly from BAI or Optifex—a
contiguity that characterizes the close-knittedness of an industry engendered
by a tight labor market which has remained to be its present condition.
Don Groves notes that by 1999, the number of PASI’s internal artists Headquarters of Fil-Cartoons, Inc., the Philippine
subsidiary of Hanna-Barbera, formerly located in
had increased to 500 and its facility had fully transitioned to digital Mandaluyong
technology.33 Accompanying these changes was a shift in focus from
services to co-production ventures, which the studio reinforced through a
new policy it began implementing in 2000 according to Christopher
Harz.34 Aligning with Tessa Jazmines’ accounts, the “artist-invested”
scheme offered PASI employees a percentage in profit for every co-
production they participated in, basically granting them credit-based
ownership relative to their productivity.35
Perhaps due to this strategic change, PASI weathered the Asian
financial crisis in 1997, operating for more than two decades. Among the
contractual or co-produced animation projects the studio had seen
throughout its lifetime were X-Men: The Animated Series (1992–97), Biker
Mice from Mars (1993–96; 2006–7), Bob and Margaret (1993–2001), The Smurfs
(Hanna-Barbera Productions, SEPP
Fantastic Four: The Animated Series (1994–96), The Mask (1995–97),
International S.A., Lafig S.A., 1981–89)
Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales for Every Child (1995–2000), Waynehead
(1996–97), Anthony Ant (1999), Mumble Bumble (1999), The Adventures of
Tom Thumb & Thumbelina (2002), My Gym Partner’s a Monkey (2005–8),
Johnny Test (2005–14) and several others. In addition, because of its
Malaysian affiliation, PASI had also worked on the Annecy award-
winning TV series Kampung Boy (1998–99),36 produced and aired by Astro
(All-Asian Satellite Television and Radio Operator), a major Malaysian
TV network likewise founded by Ananda Krishnan. Other projects
received by PASI were sourced from clients in the United States, Japan,
Canada, France, Denmark, and Hungary.37
Toei of Japan The Ren & Stimpy Show
( John Kricfalusi, Spümcø, Games
Though an outlier among the prevailing western-owned operations, Animation, 1991–96)
PASI was not the only captive studio in the Philippines whose owner had
originated from Asia. Another player from the region also approached the
country in the interest of outsourcing labor, no less one that is a major
animation producer. Established earlier than PASI, Toei Animation Phils.,
Inc. (TAPI) was formed due to an untypical alliance between a Philippine
construction firm and a Japanese animation studio. The latter, Toei
Animation Co., Ltd., sensationally labeled as the “Disney of the Orient,” is
owned by the media and entertainment titan Toei Company founded in
Japan.38
TAPI traces its conception back to 1986 when the Industrial
Training Corporation of Asia (ITCA) included a complementary graphic
arts program in its curriculum. According to Mynardo A. Macaraig, The Addams Family
the program was for Filipinos training to become migrant welders (H-B Production Co., 1992–93)
113

Johnny Bravo
(Van Partible, Hanna-Barbera
Cartoons, Cartoon Network,
1997–2004)
The Mask
(Dark Horse Entertainment, Film
Roman Productions, Sunbow
Productions, New Line Television,
Turner Program Services, 1995–97)
Tom & Jerry Kids Show
(Paul Tibbitt, Hanna-Barbera
Productions, 1990–94)
Cow and Chicken
(David Feiss, Hanna-Barbera
Cartoons, 1997–99)
114
LONG TAKE
and engineers in the Middle East.39 The Technical Education and Skills
Development Authority (TESDA) states in their webpage that the labor ITCA
initially supplied to Toei was paintwork,40 although this later expanded to
include other processes.
When the training was discontinued, the graphics component developed
into a joint venture between EEI Corp.—ITCA’s parent company, then known
as Engineering Equipment Inc.—and Toei,41 leading to the creation of EEI-
Toei Animation Corporation in 1993, with the former being the majority
shareholder.42 In 1998, however, TESDA notes Toei Animation Co. Ltd.
owned the majority, and in 2000, EEI sold the rest of the venture’s shares to
the Japanese studio, making EEI-Toei Animation a wholly-owned subsidiary
of Toei Animation Co., Ltd. and henceforth renamed Toei Animation Phils.,
Inc.43
Unlike the other captive studios, TAPI’s staff has been consistently
fewer, numbering close to only 200 in total. According to Macaraig, this
comes as a result of its management’s observation that rapid scaling pushed
the early studios in the country into precarity and eventual demise.44 TAPI
has nevertheless been copious with its animation production, having played a
part in the creation of many anime and some American titles, most of which
had gained popularity not only in Japan but across the globe. Of these were
The Transformers (1984–87), Crying Freeman (1988–92; 1994), Dragon Ball Z
(1989–96), Slam Dunk (1993–96), Ghost Sweeper Mikami (1993–94), One Piece
(1999–present), Ring ni Kakero (2004; 2006; 2010–11), and Powerpuff Girls Z
(2006–7), as well as originals or iterations of titles such as GeGeGe no Kitarô, Dr.
Slump, Sailor Moon, G.I. Joe, My Hero Academia, Digimon, and Pokémon, to name
a few. TAPI is also noted for its standing as the longest-running animation
studio in the country, which may be partly attributed to its adherence to
maintaining itself as a medium-sized enterprise.
Captivating Captivity
Inasmuch as the early domestic animation studios in the country were
involved in the making behind their clients’ and parent companies’ creations,
regardless of how minute the scope or negligible their parts were in the earlier
days, nor how common they were precluded from onscreen credits, they share
to an extent in the hegemonic success of the many fictive characters which have
become household names in the world of film animation. Sources indicate this
has been largely made possible by the primary attraction they held in the first
place, which was inexpensive labor.45 A half-hour animation produced in 1995
cost at least $500,000 in the United States, whereas, in the Philippines, the cost
was around $130,000. According to Michael Switow, the country’s offerings also
tended to be competitively priced compared to most providers in Asia.46
Coincidentally, Lent observes that the United States turned to overseas
prospects for labor that could pedal its animation industry primarily because
of high costs associated with hiring animators in its homeland, specifically the
disbursement of employee benefits which accounted for a 32 percent cost factor
on top of wages.47
Lent avers that countries such as Japan, Taiwan, and Korea thus became
the “first-level” offshore outlets of western animation production until the
price of labor also swelled in East Asia in the 1990s, prompting outsourcing
interest to gravitate toward Southeast Asia.48 Various sources maintain that
in the Philippines, an Americanized culture and, in effect, fluency in English
LONG TAKE
were frequently cited as appealing qualities that suited the needs of captive
enterprises,49 and according to Lent, this is in addition to tax incentives
that benefited employers.50 Stability in labor supply was likewise inviting,
warranted not only by an abundance of talent but also by the absence of labor
unions related to the occupation. Whereas artists in the United States have
been formally organizing strikes and lobbying grievances since the 1930s,51 a
labor union for Filipino animators did not form until very recently, with the
creation of the Philippine Animation Workers Association (PAWA) in 2019.
Biker Mice from Mars
(Rick Ungar, Brentwood Television Funnies,
Other Studio Contenders Worldwide Sports & Entertainment,
Inc., Marvel Productions, New World
Optifex, BAI, Fil-Cartoons, PASI, and TAPI could be considered Animation, Philippine Animation Studio,
among the forerunners of the domestic animation industry, but they were
1993–96; 2006–7)
by no means the only simultaneous or successive entities to have entered the
local animation scene. On the contrary, the credentials and contacts acquired
by former employees of disestablished production houses enabled some to set
up shops of their own. Periodic interest from abroad more or less continued
to stimulate demand, hence the mushrooming of other studios, both foreign
and Filipino-owned, participating along the consistent vein of animation
services, the trend of which still pervades the industry to this day.
With some still extant as of this writing, among the other foreign outfits
to have wagered in the Philippines were Yoram Gross Animation, a studio Fantastic Four: The Animated Series
named after an Australian producer of children and family entertainment; (Philippine Animation Studio, Wang
Film Productions, Marvel Entertainment
contemporaries of Fil-Cartoons such as Los Angeles Animation, Island Group, Marvel Films, 1994–96)
Animation, and Moving Images International; Toon City Animation,
Inc., established by Colin Baker in 1993 which primarily serviced Disney;
Top Draw Animation Inc., founded in 1999 by Wayne Dearing, a former
executive of Fil-Cartoons and PASI; ImagineAsia and VirtualMagicAsia,
sister companies under Global Animation Holdings; Digital Eye Candy,
an arm of Kanbar Entertainment; Snipple Animation Studio, founded by
English Kaine Patel in 2010; and Xentrix Toons, Inc., formed in 2016 as a
subsidiary of an India-based studio.
Following Optifex, Filipino-owned production houses were also
established, albeit fewer. There was advertising-oriented Alcazaren Bros.,
X-Men: The Animated Series
began in 1989 and headed by Juan and Miguel Alcazaren; Top Peg (Marvel Entertainment Group, Saban
Animation & Creative Studio, Inc., started in 1996 by Grace Dimaranan who Entertainment, Graz Entertainment,
AKOM, 1992–97)
had previously worked for Optifex, Fil-Cartoons, and other studios; Holy
Cow Animation Inc., a 3D-specialist studio launched in 1999 by former
Burbank Animation employee Marlyn Montano; and Red Door Animation,
Inc., founded by four Filipino animation professionals in 2015.
Outsourcing and the Perfunctory Artist
The proliferation of studios in the country inevitably and cumulatively
correlated to a prodigious output of animation that cannot be overstated to
have become global if not Eurocentric in scale, with the productions Filipino
animators are involved in figuring anywhere from television films to visual Bob and Margaret
(David Fine and Alison Snowden,
effects to Hollywood features. According to a documentary by Lynette Snowden Fine Animation, Philippines
Buenafe, the propitious years of production in the 1990s thus gave the period Animation Studio, National Film
credence as being the nation’s “golden age of animation outsourcing,”52 while, Board of Canada, Nelvana,1993–2001)
for Michael Switow and Maria Ressa, the country itself at the time was vying
to become the “cartoon capital of the world.”53
115

Anthony Ant
(Funbag Animation Studios,
HiT Entertainment, 1999)
The Adventures of Tom Thumb &
Thumbelina
(Glenn Chaika, Miramax Films,
Hyperion Animation, 2002)
Johnny Test
(Scott Fellows, Warner
Bros. Animation, Cookie Jar
Entertainment, 2005–14)
Logo of Toei Animation Phils., Inc.,
a Philippine subsidiary of Toei Animation
116
LONG TAKE
Substantiation of these claims encompasses not only a measure of the
industry’s gross revenue and animation exports but also the sheer number of people
employed in discrete studios at the time, both of which attest to the widespread
public demand for animation as a source of entertainment, particularly one that is
marketed to a western audience. In developing and exercising skills that required
both haste and talent to produce such commodity adequately, the Filipino animator
learned to meet quotas in Taylorist fashion, imbibe foreign conventions and humor,
and accept artistic choices or standards as a given.
However, the work outsourced to the country is almost always not the most
creative component. A case study by Feichin Ted Tschang and Andrea Goldstein
on the major existing animation studios in the country as of 2004 shows that the
assignments the participating studios received from clients were more or less well
into the production stage; development, preproduction, and postproduction were
primarily made and done earlier at the hands of the project owners.54 This finding
is consistent with the cases of Optifex, BAI, Fil-Cartoons, PASI, and TAPI, whose
credits, the first and second having worked on purely traditional animation, and the
rest, both on traditional and digital formats, similarly consisted of labor-intensive
aspects such as tracing, painting, cleanup, inbetweening, and camerawork, or what
Tschang and Goldstein have termed as mechanistic, as opposed to creative, work.
Where there are instances of original animation locally developed by outsourcing
studios, such as Fil-Cartoons’ Child Soldiers (1997) and Swamp and Tad in ‘Mission
Imfrogable’ (1997) as well as Top Pegs’ Tutubi Patrol (Dragonfly Patrol, 2003), such
productions have been few and far between.
According to Tschang and Goldstein, the demarcation between the
outsourced and the in-house is determined by the project owners, while the
outsourcing process itself abided by a vertical, regimented workflow chiefly
contingent to what has been identified as coordination and codification—the
former assuming the back-and-forth communication syncing activity into order,
and the latter taking the form of specifications or “bibles” packaged abroad, often
including the script, storyboard, and, in the traditional era, exposure sheets.55 Such
rigidity leaves little opportunity for feedback on the part of the servicing studios,
whose designation is limited to interpreting the specifications to the best of their
abilities. The bone of contention, therefore, is that, following the argument of
Lent, the role of the conforming Filipino artist within the domestic animation
industry has become perfunctory.56
Captive Proclivities
On the issue arising from foreign animation’s place in Southeast Asia in
general, Lent recognizes there are both negative and positive sides to the matter.
Lifting from his rhetoric, on the one hand, it can be argued that animation
production in the Philippines has been primarily undergirded by labor exploitation.
Almost all studios in the country have privileged foreign production to the
detriment of the development of local narratives. They are headed mainly by
expatriates or owned by overseas entities who possess the inalienable rights to
final creative decisions. On the other hand, it can be averred that there would have
been no impetus for the formation of a local industry without the entry and
assimilation of foreign involvement.57
Regardless of either view, the trajectory of animation’s development in the
country as a commodity undeniably signifies a dependence on, if not subservience
to, the west, as manifested in two imbricating layers: culturally, in terms of the
ubiquity and consumption of foreign animation vis-à-vis the marginalization of
Dragon Ball Z
(Toei Animation Japan, 1989–96)
Slam Dunk
(Toei Animation Japan, 1993–96)
Powerpuff Girls Z
(Toei Animation Japan, 2006–7)
G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero
(Sunbow Productions, Marvel
Productions, DIC Enterprises,
1983–86; 1989–92)
Digimon Adventure tri. Part 1: Reunion
(Keitaro Motonaga,
Toei Animation Japan, 2015)
LONG TAKE
Filipino narratives, and materially, in terms of the domestic industry’s economic
subjugation by foreign control. What has ensued then is an inability for the industry
to elevate and for the local market to recognize its homegrown narratives beyond the
vocabulary of western animation, which in turn has resulted in the relatively anemic
reception of indigenized works, notably full-length films.
In the words of Lent and Hassan Muthalib, based on a comment made by
Bill Dennis, former general manager of Fil-Cartoons and ex-vice president at
Disney, “indigenous animation did not take off because Filipinos are too partial to
American animation.”58 Therefore, the domestic industry is ironically engaged in
animated trade while succumbing to a catatonic state induced by a disconnect with
local patronage.
The historical dimension of Philippine animation as an industry thus
exemplifies and affirms the nation’s circumscription to a long-wrought colonial
framework. In the first place, domestic animation’s utility in television advertising
operated within the greater industrial and cultural structures introduced and
tempered by the American occupation. In the second place, the ingress of
foreign studios to capitalize on low labor costs and expand business, as well as
the establishment of Filipino-owned entities which have likewise promoted the
outsourcing of animation to foreign interests, also articulates the colonial legacy
that has ossified in the national subconscious. This analysis coincides with Roland
Tolentino’s examination that Philippine animation emanated from print capitalism
and service businesses—modalities of the early American capitalism that sought
to reengineer the country as its colony.59 As an industry, however, the commercial
parties laying claim to domestic animation have since variegated, represented by
asserting multinational companies originating in Australia, Malaysia, Japan, the
United Kingdom, and India.
Captivity and Nationalism
The fomenting of Philippine animation’s captivity under a plurality of foreign
interests resulted from a globalized network galvanized by international trade.
The country’s baptismal as a site for animation production, or a “factory,” to use
Lent’s term, and the outsourcing magnetism it acquired that has since weakened,
consummated the capitalistic machinations of private enterprises bent toward
maximizing wealth.
While there have been cases of animation production on the commercial
level that run contrary to the trend of outsourcing, such movement has neither
been sustained nor sustainable, with much of the work ending up deferred or
shelved indefinitely due to lack of funding, absence of ready or accepting markets,
or both. Indeed, some early major studios like Optifex and PASI had considered,
if not attempted, to develop homegrown animation. However, the lack of financial
incentives disinclines most studios from lingering in such terrain, hence the
preservation of outsourcing as the superior modus operandi. Consequently, wholly
Filipino-owned studios mimicked captive conditions in order to survive.
Further legitimization of captivity is also articulated beyond the business
sphere, particularly in the state’s economic planning and approach toward animation.
Early reports published by agencies such as Tholons, Pearl2, and the Department
of Trade and Industry, as well as the rhetoric issued from bodies such as the
Philippine Board of Investments and the Animation Council of the Philippines
(ACPI), banked on local animation as a service apparatus, laminating its export
status and emphasizing the country’s global vantage as an animation outsourcing
117
 LONG TAKE
hub. Concomitantly, the form has since been widely categorized and associated
with the business process outsourcing sector rather than, or as much as, the
creative sector. The ostensible rationalization behind this championing, figured
by Lent, is that outsourcing will eventually attract foreign investment for local
narratives.60
Such legitimization of animation as an export product uncannily parallels
an analysis by David Frederic Camroux on how the state’s cooptation and
farming of overseas Filipino workers have been reconfigured as a vector for
economic growth, extolling Filipino expatriates as the “new national heroes”
in light of the enormous sum of remittances they feed to the state.61 As how the
state-sanctioned sending of emigrants—a “weakness in Filipino national
development”—has been “reformulated as an expression of Filipino strength,”
so, too, has the captivity of Philippine animation been hoisted by the industry as
a banner for nationalism, branded as an expression of pride, and utilized as a
source of financial inflow at the expense of a paucity in indigenized or
indigenous works.
Counterflows
The propulsion of homegrown animation within the industry, meanwhile,
has only been a fairly recent phenomenon, with developments such as the
flagship animation festival Animahenasyon inaugurated by ACPI in 2007, the
sprouting of boutique outfits the likes of Rocketsheep Studios in 2000 and
Tuldok Animation Studio in 2005, and the formation of animation departments
attached to local media conglomerates such as ABS-CBN, arousing a
decolonizing locomotion of sorts. However, the preponderance of indigenous
animation, away from the creative distillations of the captive studio system, is
arguably still located predominantly in the peripheries of the industry, orbiting
in what Nick Deocampo has described as alternative, or what Michael Kho Lim
has designated as independent, cinemas. Within these modes of production
where commerciality is not as much, if not just as much, an agenda as artistic
ferment, expression, or activism, Filipino animated films have also found a
foothold.
For instance, an early outcome of a proximate breakaway from captivity
was Nelson Caliguia Sr.’s Livingroom Productions, which Caliguia established
while working as an animator in Fil-Cartoons. Literally, the studio operated on a
makeshift capacity in the living room of Caliguia’s house and involved his family
members in its productions. The studio most notably bore the animated short
Mokmok (1995), which features a titular mosquito and its cronies who attempt
to carry out a mission of spreading dengue in an impoverished barangay. Despite
being fraught with budgetary constraints, the film opted for a commercially
unviable story nevertheless germane to the realities of Filipinos.
The conditions of Livingroom reflect the ongoing financial challenges
that plague the studio-based production of local animated films, especially
long-forms, so much so that straightened conditions are instanced even in
milestone works. Gerry Garcia’s Ang Panday (1986), the first Filipino animated
TV series, shot using an improvised camera mounted on wooden constructions;
RPG Metanoia (2010), the country’s first 3D full-length film, created by a lean
team of 26 animators; and Saving Sally (2016), Avid Liongoren’s first feature
which debuted after taking 12 years to finish primarily due to lack of funding,
are only a few of the Filipino animated films that had to contend with wanting
circumstances.
118
Child Soldiers
( John Rice, Fil-Cartoons, Inc., 1997)
Mokmok (1995)
A short film produced by the home-
based studio Livingroom Productions
established by Nelson B. Caliguia, Sr.
The first Filipino animated television series,
Ang Panday (Gerry Garcia, 1986)
RPG Metanoia
(Luis Suarez, Star Cinema, Ambient Media,
Thaumatrope Animation Production, 2010)
Saving Sally
(Avid Liongoren, Rocketsheep Studios, Mandrake
Films, KB Studios, Alchemedia Productions, 2016)
LONG TAKE
With shorts, the default mode of production has almost always
been artisanal rather than assembly-line, with works emanating from
students now conceivably occupying the majority of the country’s
animation filmography. On the other hand, non-student films are
also often produced and completed only by virtue of their filmmakers’
resourcefulness in the face of financial incapability. Ellen Ramos’
Doon sa Kabila ng Bulkan (The Other Side of the Volcano, 1997),
which was exhibited in the Panorama section of Annecy International
Animation Film Festival, Dange Desembrana and Emmanuel
Dadiva’s Anak Maynila (Child of Manila, 1993), and Fruto Corre and
Dadivas’s The Criminal (1984), are examples of such films relying on Doon sa Kabila ng Bulkan (The Other Side of the Volcano,
Ellen Ramos, PETA-BFI, 1997)—a Filipino film
improvised creative methods, or what Molinia Anne Velasco-Wansom
exhibited in the Annecy Festival
has contextualized as the aesthetics of “making do.”62
More than digressions from the conveyor belt system of
animation production, what these counterflows signify is a struggle to
imagine Filipino identities that are distant, if not unfettered, from
captive parameters, not unlike the Philippines’ struggle to gain
independence from colonial sovereignty. It is uncertain if the
Philippine animation industry’s surmounting of captivity will also
occasion the nation’s homegrown animation to burgeon to the same
extent as, or even greater than, Filipino live-action cinema. For now,
there is only an incipience, a modicum of works whose counterflows
could only wax or wane in the histories to come.
Anak Maynila (Child of Manila,
Dange Desembrana and Emmanuel Dadivas, 1993)
The Criminal
(Emmanuel Dadivas and Fruto Corre,
Media Concepts, Inc., 1984)
Roland Cartagena finished his Bachelor of Arts in Film at the University of the Philippines Film Institute. His animated short
Flush (2020) was screened in local film festivals, while his other work, After Hours (2019), was featured in Film Geographies 2022.
119
 LONG TAKE
Endnotes
1 Ilan Oshri, Offshoring Strategies: Evolving Captive Center Models
(Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2011), 1.
2 Paulin Turner Strong, Captive Selves, Captivating Others (Boulder: Westview
Press, 1999), 2-3, 19-20.
3 Gwendolyn Audrey Foster, Captive Bodies: Postcolonial Subjectivity in Cinema
(Albany: State University of New York Press, 1999), 3, 6.
4 Strong, 23-32.
5 Navarro as an animation pioneer taken from Joel David, Lynn Pareja,
and Michael Kho Lim, “Animation,” in Cultural Center of the Philippines
Encyclopedia of Philippine Art, 2017, epa.culturalcenter.gov.ph/4/21/1060/.
6 John A. Lent, “Comic Art in the Philippines,” Philippine Studies 46, no.
2 (1998): 246. See also Nick Deocampo, Short Film: Emergence of a New
Philippine Cinema (Manila: Communication Foundation for Asia, 1985), 16.
7 Cynthia Roxas and Joaquin Arevalo, A History of Komiks of the Philippines
and Other Countries (Quezon: Islas Filipinas Publishing Company, 1985), 73.
8 Nonoy Marcelo, “Malabon, Drawing Board to Our Country’s First Full-
length Animation,” in Huling Ptyk: Da Art of Nonoy Marcelo, eds. Pandy
Aviado and Sylvia Mayuga (Pasig: Anvil Publishing Inc., 2005), 81.
9 There are differing claims on the length of Juan Tamad—two, three, and
six minutes. See Deocampo, 90; Marcelo, “Malabon, Drawing Board to
Our Country’s First Full-length Animation,” 81; David, Pareja, and Lim,
“Animation.”
10 Deocampo, 90.
11 Ibid. See also Lent, “Comic Art in the Philippines,” 246.
12 For this and succeeding sections, years in parentheses indicate the title’s
running period or release, not the year of studio’s involvement. Where a title
has no accompanying year, the specific film iteration is unidentified.
13 Nelson B. Caliguia Sr., interview by Roland Cartagena, Video Interview,
June 22, 2022, transcript courtesy of Roland Cartagena, quoted with
permission.
14 Giannalberto Bendazzi, Animation: A World History, Volume III: Contemporary
Times (Florida: CRC Press, 2016), 287.
15 Dan Torre and Lienors Torre, Australian Animation: An International History
(London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018), 181-82.
16 Achiu So, interview by Roland Cartagena, Chat Interview, July 14, 2022,
transcript courtesy of Roland Cartagena, quoted with permission.
17 Caliguia Sr., Video Interview, June 22, 2022.
18 Torre and Torre, 181-82.
19 Giannalberto Bendazzi, Cartoons: One Hundred Years of Cinema Animation
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994), 409-10.
20 Lent, “Comic Art in the Philippines,” 247.
21 Torre and Torre, 182.
22 Chito S. Roño, interview by Roland Cartagena, Chat Interview, June 27-28,
2022, transcript courtesy of Roland Cartagena, quoted with permission.
23 Benji Agoncillo, interview by Roland Cartagena, Chat Interview, June 20-
23, 2022, transcript courtesy of Roland Cartagena, quoted with permission.
24 John A. Lent, “Animation in Southeast Asia,” Media Asia 26, no. 4 (1999):
193; John A. Lent, “The ‘Sleeper’ Status of Southeast Asian Animation,”
Jurnal Komunikasi: Malaysian Journal of Communication 20 (2004): 192;
Torre and Torre, 182.
25 According to Torre and Torre, Burbank was revived in 1991 under a new
management and was renamed as Burbank Animation Studio. See Torre and
Torre, 182-83.
26 Agoncillo, Chat Interview, June 20-23, 2022.
27 “Fil-Cartoons promotional video,” Archive.org Video, 8:44, televised in
1995, uploaded by “aengcarta,” July 1, 2022, archive.org/details/fil-cartoons-
promotional-video.
28 Margaret Parkes, interview with Dan Torre and Lienors Torre, April 24,
2004, quoted in Torre and Torre, 175.
29 Jonathan Karp, “Get It? Filipino Animators Bring Cultural Edge to Cartoon
Work,” Far Eastern Economic Review, June 22, 1995, 88-89.
30 Lent, “Animation in Southeast Asia,” 193.
31 Agoncillo, Chat Interview, June 20-23, 2022.
32 Carol Espiritu, “Animators Drawn to Region,” Variety, June 17-23, 1996, 46.
33 Don Groves, “Filipino Animator Retoons for New Role,” Variety, July 12-18,
1999, 35.
34 Christopher Harz, “Playing With PASI: A Studio with Heart,” Animation
Magazine, April 2002, 34.
35 Ibid. See also Tessa Jazmines, “PASI Initiates Artists Revenue Sharing,”
Variety, November 6-12, 2000, 65; Tessa Jazmines, “PASI Retooning
Animates Philippine Studio After Years in Doldrums,” Variety, August 7-13,
2000, 30.
120
LONG TAKE
36 Harz, “Playing With PASI: A Studio with Heart,” 34.
37 Tessa Jazmines, “PAS Taps Home Market for Toons Amid Gloom,”
Variety, January 7-13, 2002, 43; Karp, “Get It? Filipino Animators Bring
Cultural Edge to Cartoon Work,” 88-89.
38 Technical Education and Skills Development Authority, “Toei
Animation Phils., Inc.” TESDA, February 25, 2017, accessed on
tesdatrainingcourses.com/toei-animation-phils-inc.html.
39 Mynardo A. Macaraig, “An Animated Market,” Asia, Inc., February
1994, 72.
40 Technical Education and Skills Development Authority, “Toei
Animation Phils., Inc.”
41 Macaraig, “An Animated Market,” 72.
42 Technical Education and Skills Development Authority, “Toei
Animation Phils., Inc.” See also “TOEI Animation Philippines 20
Years,” YouTube Video, 6:12, uploaded by “Pochology,” November 30,
2010, youtube.com/watch?v=q23KYyMdncw.
43 Ibid.
44 Macaraig, “An Animated Market,” 72.
45 “A Profile on Film Animation,” Bureau of Export Trade Promotion, April
1989, 13; Nerilyn Tenorio, “Filipinos Spin Cartoon Fantasies,” Santa
Ana Orange County Register, January 2, 1993, 86; Espiritu, “Animators
Drawn to Region,” 46; Karp, “Get It? Filipino Animators Bring Cultural
Edge to Cartoon Work,” 88; Jazmines, “PAS Taps Home Market for
Toons Amid Gloom,” 43.
46 Michael Switow, “Philippines Makes Bid to Become Cartoon Capital,”
Syracuse Herald Journal, August 16, 1995, 205.
47 John A. Lent, “The Animation Industry and Its Offshore Factories,” in
Global Productions: Labor in the Making of the “Information Society,” eds.
Gerald Sussman and John A. Lent (New Jersey: Hampton Press, Inc.,
1998), 240.
48 Lent, “Animation in Southeast Asia,” 193; Lent, “The ‘Sleeper’ Status of
Southeast Asian Animation,” 195.
49 “A Profile on Film Animation,” 13; Tenorio, “Filipinos Spin Cartoon
Fantasies,” 86; Switow, “Philippines Makes Bid to Become Cartoon
Capital,” 205; Espiritu, “Animators Drawn to Region,” 46; Karp, “Get
It? Filipino Animators Bring Cultural Edge to Cartoon Work,” 88;
Jazmines, “PAS Taps Home Market for Toons Amid Gloom,” 43.
50 Lent, “Animation in Southeast Asia,” 193; Lent, “The ‘Sleeper’ Status of
Southeast Asian Animation,” 191.
51 Lent, “The Animation Industry and Its Offshore Factories,” 242.
52 Lynnette Buenafe, dir. From Lines to Life, “An Introduction to
Animation,” televised in 2010 on Knowledge Channel.
53 Switow, “Philippines Makes Bid to Become Cartoon Capital,” 205;
Maria Ressa, “Filipino Animators in ‘Toon’ with the Times,” CNN,
October 14, 1995.
54 Feichin Ted Tschang and Andrea Goldstein, “The Outsourcing
of ‘Creative’ Work and the Limits of Capability: The Case of the
Philippines’ Animation Industry,” IEEE Transactions on Engineering
Management 57, no. 1 (2010): 142.
55 Tschang and Goldstein, “The Outsourcing of ‘Creative’ Work and
the Limits of Capability: The Case of the Philippines’ Animation
Industry,”133, 141. See also Feichin Ted Tschang and Andrea Goldstein,
“Production and Political Economy in the Animation Industry: Why
Insourcing and Outsourcing Occur” (paper presented at the DRUID
Summer Conference, Elsinore, Denmark, June 14-16, 2004): 16.
56 Lent, “Animation in Southeast Asia,” 193.
57 Ibid.
58 Bill Dennis, quoted in John A. Lent and Hassan Muthalib, “The
Philippines,” in Bendazzi, Animation: A World History, Volume III:
Contemporary Times, 288.
59 Rolando B. Tolentino, “Animating the Nation: Animation and
Development in the Philippines,” in Animation in Asia and the Pacific, ed.
John A. Lent (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2001), 169.
60 Lent, “The Animation Industry and Its Offshore Factories,” 249.
61 David Frederic Camroux, “Nationalizing Transnationalism? The
Philippine State and the Filipino Diaspora,” Sciences Po publications
(2008): 6-10.
62 Molinia Anne Velasco-Wansom, “The Art of Making Do: Exploring the
Aesthetics of Filipino Short Film Animation,” Journal of English Studies
and Comparative Literature 17 (2018): 26-27.
121