Female Filmmakers Are Rewriting the Rules of Filipino Cinema

The signature Valentine’s Day movie of 2026 ends, not with a sentimental ballad and wedding bells, but with quiet reverie, reminiscing a love lost. There’s a clear irony to it, but if anyone can get Filipinos to flock to theaters for the reward of a broken heart, it’s Irene Villamor. The Loved One, starring Jericho Rosales and Anne Curtis, is the first local film of the year to gross over a hundred million pesos, adding to Irene’s growing portfolio of blockbuster hits.

With titles like Sid and Aya: Not a Love Story, Ulan, and Camp Sawi in her repertoire, the University of the Philippines graduate has created a genre all on her own. If it’s an Irene Villamor film, brace yourself to be hit with the harsh realities of love. Don’t get her wrong. She doesn’t do it for the pleasure of seeing an audience in turmoil. Most of the time, it’s simply where her characters take her. “Doon sila dinadala ng kwento eh. ’Yung pagkatao nila, the choice pa lang ng characters ko, parang laging papunta doon sa not so happy,” she tells Preview.

Instead of painting the perfect picture of happily ever after, Irene likes leaving her viewers with something to think about, whether it forces them to introspect on their own life or to imagine the rest of the story long after the credits have rolled. She explains, “I always like the open endings na parang 'di mo alam kung saan na sila dadalhin. Sa inyo na 'yan, sa audience na 'yan.” 

While her female characters aren’t destined for the traditional happy ending, if there’s one common thread among them, it’s concluding the film having untethered themselves from the expectations thrust upon them. In Ulan, a hopeless romantic ends up finding peace and acceptance in her solitude, while Meet Me in St. Gallen frees its characters from the long-held idea of soulmates and fairy tale endings.

Despite this, Irene doesn’t argue against female tropes and archetypes. She’s aware they’ve persisted across a thousand stories because they exist in reality—what matters is where you take them. She expounds, “The manic pixie dream girl has been done so many times. It reflects something kasi para siyang aspiration ng mga babae. Pero anong gagawin mo kay manic pixie dream girl? Kakawala siya. Lagi siyang kumakawala. Lahat ng characters ko, lahat kung anuman, lagi lang silang may pagpupumiglas.”

Audiences can expect to see this once again in her upcoming movie, Midnight Girls, her first directing endeavor not centered on romance. It chronicles the lives of Jodi Sta. Maria, Sanya Lopez, Jane Oineza, and Loisa Andallio as Filipina entertainers in Japan. The four women forge a strong bond as they grapple with the demands of their job and learn to reshape shame into resilience. Shot entirely in Nagoya, Japan, it’s set to debut in cinemas on May 13, 2026.

In the same way that she approaches her characters with elaborate intricacy, Irene never assumes that her viewers go into the cinema with simple minds. After all, women, the predominant audience of romance movies, are imaginative beings. Their thoughts are as expansive as their existence, and they can certainly take a little philosophy woven into their movie night.

“Bakit natin minamaliit 'yung audience na hindi nila 'to matatanggap, 'di ba?” says Irene, who’s fond of turning to philosophical texts and other discerning media in search of something new to say. She explains, “The Loved One is inspired by Roland Barthes’s book, A Lover's Discourse: Fragments. Minsan sinasabi nila sakin, ‘Mag-pitch ka ng something,’ so ano pa kaya ’yung sasabihin ko sa pag-ibig? So you keep on looking for ano ’yung kakapitan, ano ’yung spine or ano ’yung pinaka-thesis nung kuwento na ’to.”

For her, movies can be a form of escape, sure, but as an art form, they should also be able to feed the soul. “Doon nanggagaling ’yung meaning. Not necessarily meaning in an intellectual sense. But the meaning na nagbibigay-buhay siya sa kaluluwa mo, meron siyang ibig sabihin sa buhay mo. That for me is, or should be, the role of the arts.”

If for the common folk, art is sustenance for the spirit, it is, quite literally, a way of life for creatives. That said, their bread and butter still leaves much to be desired. In 2024, the Eddie Garcia Law was passed to give stronger protection for the rights and well-being of those working in the TV and film industry. It mandated limited working hours, safer working conditions, the provision of welfare benefits and health insurance, plus stricter repercussions for anyone who violates them. It’s a step in the right direction, but Irene also acknowledges that the industry still has a long way to go.

“Creatives need to at least have partial ownership of their work,” says Irene. “Isa ’yun sa mga napakahirap ilaban. After ko sa isang pelikula, after my contract is done, the rights are not with me. It's with the producer. So walang creative na may hawak ng kaniyang pelikula, unless I become a producer too.” 

Bela Padilla, one of her frequent collaborators, recently appeared in the House of Representatives to champion a bill seeking to establish the Philippine Film Commission, a proposed body that would improve labor conditions in the industry, including providing extra protection for women on set. In a post-session reflection, the actress pointed out the stark contrast: while other countries have long-established systems that safeguard and uplift their artists, the Philippines continues to drag its feet in providing its artists with their basic rights. “Isa siyang mahabang diskusyon na I hope unti-unti napakita ng Eddie Garcia Law what we can accomplish if we have political will,” Irene says, holding on to a measured but persistent hope. 

Passion grows stale without meaningful support, and for Irene, what we need is a government willing to meet its artists halfway—to finally recognize that the people who tell the nation’s stories deserve protection as much as they deserve to be heard.

For Rae Red, being a woman proved to be an advantage when she was still starting out in the industry. Born to a family of all-male filmmakers—Raymond Red, Mikhail Red, Nikolas Red, and Jon Red—Rae had the golden opportunity to fill a gap in their dynasty with her uniquely female perspective. 

Growing up, movies were a natural part of her ecosystem. She was constantly surrounded by the films her cinephile relatives would put on, but that abundance didn’t mean they would be stories she could see herself in. “I was exposed to films na very male gaze,” she says. “I think that's why the type of films I've done are like genre films but with a female perspective. I think my upbringing and my own politics with my body have melded into one.”

Women have always been at the forefront of Rae’s stories. Her upcoming horror series with Netflix, titled Balaraw, stars Janine Gutierrez as Sabina, a young lesbian who ventures to an uncharted island in search of her long-lost mother. On her quest, she’s forced to confront the dark secrets of her family. It’s characters like this, ordinary women in extraordinary circumstances, that Rae writes with faithful intention insofar as they’re always self-aware of their bodies and the space they take up in society. What might seem insignificant to others is definitive for Rae. 

“Commuting every day, it's very different for women, how you choose where to sit in a bus or in a jeep, or even how you position your body in an Angkas, it’s a very conscious decision parati sa ating mga babae,” she explains. “Feeling ko ’yung mga ganong maliliit na desisyon are often overlooked, or the general public doesn’t know it's something we're constantly thinking of. I think women in general are more conscious of that. Feeling ko nagre-reflect ’yun. Some of my own anxieties, I pour them out into my characters.”

To illustrate this, she recollects a scene in her critically acclaimed 2019 movie Babae at Baril where Janine’s character has to pop a blister on her foot. “I wanted that shot [to be framed in a way] na kita mong nag-se-squirt ’yung [blister],” says Rae. By keeping the visceral pain and discomfort in seemingly inconsequential moments like this, Rae presents women and their everyday grievances as they are, no sugarcoating or glossing over.

A master at keeping it real both in her scripts and off cam, Rae is pensive and soft spoken, an uncommon trait for a director in an industry where being loud gets you places. It’s a far cry from the unchecked verbal abuse that has long been a sickness of the field. Though it is frowned upon, such degrading practices continue to be the norm, presumably because leaders are often expected to move and act with this kind of imposing attitude. Rae, however, begs to differ.

She tells Preview, “I've been told I'm too quiet at times.”

And even when she’s genial by going around and asking for everyone’s opinions, she still somehow gets flak for it. Despite this, she stays true to her belief that there’s always a better way to communicate.

“Because I always ask for people's opinion, nagmumukha siyang hindi ko alam anong gusto ko. Parang kailangan tuloy na I need to be aggressive, wherein sometimes being open doesn't necessarily mean you don't know what you want. You just wanna take an opinion tas i-fi-filter mo siya on your own,” says Rae. “Nagkakaroon minsan ng need to be like a strongman, and that’s exactly what I don’t wanna be. It's exactly the type na tina-try mong baguhin, and then you’re kind of forced to be that way because others won’t trust you. Pero ako, I'd like to think na hindi ako nag-su-succumb sa ganoong ways.”

Rae isn’t a fan of having a movie attributed to her name alone. For this rising talent, filmmaking is, and always will be, a collaborative process. When she asks for a different perspective from her cast and crew, it’s not a sign of incapability. Far from it. A Rae Red film set hums with discussion and possibility, and under her direction, every birthed idea is carefully shaped, guided with the same nurturance and intention that defines the way women lead and create.

Olivia Lamasan knows the Filipino romantic like the back of her hand. Whether it’s writing, directing, or producing, you can find her name printed on the posters of the most iconic Pinoy love stories of our time, from Got 2 Believe to Starting Over Again. With over three decades in the industry, she’s grown a natural instinct for what and who is bound to sell. In 2016, she personally requested Joshua Garcia to star in Barcelona: A Love Untold as Daniel Padilla’s cousin, Ely. His performance in the film would grant him a Best Supporting Actor nomination at the 65th FAMAS Awards and act as his gateway to leading man status.

One of Philippine media’s living greats, Olivia, as a child, did not dream of motion pictures. Her entry into this world was borne out of circumstance and the fire to prove to her Film Theory professor, who almost flunked her for being frequently absent, that she had the smarts for filmmaking. “I was a student leader. I was the President of the Senior Council, so the activities of the council were more important than my attending his class,” admitted Olivia.

Originally trained for a career in advertising, her foray into film required her to operate solely on gut feel. “During my time, there were no formal schools in writing and directing. You had to have money and study abroad para makapag-aral ka ng directing,” she recounts. As a production assistant of Charo Santos-Concio, she would be asked to comment on film scripts with little to no knowledge of theory or terminology, just the natural instinct she’s now known for.

Workshops and years of experience honed Olivia’s skill for the craft, but when it comes to getting willing ears to listen to her voice, she credits the women who came before her.

“I’m so blessed because during my time there were already Direk Marilou Diaz-Abaya and Laurice Guillen, among others. Aside from these two directors, I also had my mentors in Charo Santos-Concio and Malou Santos,” says Olivia. “So I was surrounded by women who paved the way, who opened doors, and who supported me every step of the way.” Olivia has since taken it upon herself to pay it forward by handing the same help to those who followed her, producing the hitmakers of today, like Cathy Garcia-Sampana and Joyce Bernal.

On set, Olivia considers herself a disciplinarian who “demands professionalism.” She admits that she’s the type to raise her voice on occasion, but she’s also called “Inang” for a reason. “I think my instinct is really very maternal, so there’s a lot of nurturance from me. Kaya ka naman sumisigaw, you lose your temper because you are the captain of the ship, and the pressure is on you on the set.” If there’s one thing she would never do, though, it’s to leave a wound open. “I know I hurt a person. I will not leave it like that. I will call the person after pack-up or the next day, and we will discuss it. I want to understand where the person is coming from, and I want him or her to understand kung saan ako nanggaling.”

The veteran director’s maternal instinct comes second nature to her. On the day of her photoshoot for Preview, she sheds her persona as head of the set and patiently waits for instruction while watching on with keen interest and affection. In between takes, you can catch Olivia chatting up the relatively newer talent behind the camera, giving them career advice and cheering on their wins.

At this point in her long, illustrious career, her counsel for the next breed of filmmakers is pragmatic. She advises taking advantage of the tools and avenues they have at their disposal, because these days, anyone can make a movie with an iPhone, YouTube, and a dream. The real choice will come after “whether to serve a bigger audience or a niche audience.”

Just like any other professional pursuit, filmmaking is a business. Some stories already have an audience waiting to eat up what’s comforting and familiar, while others might require time and compromise before they see the light of day. For those who find themselves gunning for the latter, Olivia would tell them to simply "do it."

"Find a group of people or a group of investors who believe in you, who believe in your project, and then do it. Do it with the clarity of the risks… Alam mong mahihirapan ka, but it’s not impossible.”

Society will only keep on marching forward. If women were only written as submissive foils to their male counterparts back in the day, what the audience wants now are nuanced characters wrapped in their own complexities. The veteran director knows that change is inevitable and, like the progressive female-driven stories we have now, all narratives will find their audience eventually.

“Life continues, and evolution does not stop,” says Olivia. “There's evolution in your culture, social changes, technology. Hindi humihinto ’yan. As life progresses, stories never end.”