For years, Cebu has been applauded as a backdrop, with its landscapes borrowed by international productions that pass through and leave with global attention.
When South Korean superstar Kim Jisoo recently filmed across the province, pride came naturally. Cebuanos shared, celebrated and claimed the moment. And why shouldn’t they? Even borrowed visibility can feel like recognition.
Still, why does Cebu seem to gain attention only when it is seen through someone else’s lens and not through storytellers of Cebu, telling from Cebu?
A film that starts a conversation
This question sits at the heart of “Cinebuano,” a 20-minute award-winning documentary by Joaquin Perocillo. Through voices like Chai Fonacier, Suzette Ranillo, laweyer Grace Marie Lopez, Victor Villanueva, Keith Deligero and Carl Lara, the film stitches together memory and reality.
Three years after its release, it continues to map the past, present and fragile future of Cebuano cinema and remains available for everyone to see on YouTube.
“I produced and directed ‘Cinebuano’ as my thesis in Mapúa to share a part of our country’s history that even some Cebuanos aren’t familiar with,” Perocillo explained to SunStar Lifestyle on March 26, 2026. “I know a 20-minute documentary won’t solve everything overnight, but I wanted it to be a starting point for a bigger conversation — a way to raise awareness, give Cebuano cinema the recognition it deserves and hopefully inspire Bisaya creatives to keep making films.”
He adds that the film is also “a reminder that cinema is alive, not just in the capital, but in the regions as well.”
Remembering a golden age
That history is rich. “Cebuano industries in the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s — how would I describe it?” reflected Lopez, film professor and legal expert in Intellectual Property Law. “A very prolific cinema. We had an industry then.”
From the 1950s to the 1970s, Cebuano films thrived as a self-sustaining system, with stars like Gloria Sevilla and Mat Ranillo Jr. reaching audiences beyond the Visayas.
A Sibonga native, Sevilla starred in “Badlis sa Kinabuhi” with Ranillo, earning her first Famas Awards Best Actress win. She repeated the feat four years later with “Gimingaw Ako.”
“They were box office hits, real hits,” Suzette, daughter of the King and Queen of Visayan film, recalled, describing an era when productions overlapped because demand never slowed.
Today, that golden age feels distant. Structures like Vision Theatre and Oriente Theatre still stand, but no longer as temples of storytelling. “Vision is still a structure,” Lopez reflected, “but they’re not showing anything.” Instead, these spaces now house pirated DVDs and CDs — an almost poetic irony of what we lost.
A cinema rediscovered by non-locals
The documentary points to a recurring paradox: Cebuano cinema is often rediscovered by non-locals before it is recognized locally. “Iskalawags” director Deligero frames this irony through the work of scholars who documented what many had overlooked — what he calls the “lost pages” of Cebuano film history. Scholars like Paul Grant and Misha Anissimov helped preserve this forgotten past.
“There are great academic resources available like the book ‘Lilas,’ published by USC Press and written by Dr. Grant and Prof. Anissimov from the University of San Carlos Graduate School of Cinema Studies. The book provides an overview of the ‘Golden Ages’ of Cebuano cinema in the 1950s and 1970s,” shared Perocillo.
Perocillo himself is not originally from Cebu, yet his personal connection to the city inspired him to create the documentary. “I was born in Muntinlupa. My dad is from Masbate and my mom is from Rizal. I lived in Bacoor, Cavite until I was 10, then my family moved to Cebu City, where I lived for 11 years,” he shared. Despite not being Cebuano by birth, Perocillo was motivated to create a platform that would open the eyes of Cebuanos to the rich history of their cinema.
Signs of revival
Yet the story is not only about loss. The 2010s marked what some consider a modern resurgence. Films like “Patay na si Hesus” broke barriers, while initiatives such as the Binisaya Film Festival brought cinema to public spaces.
“Binisaya is one of the avenues that can help elevate the film scene here,” explained Cinemata alumnus Lara, who pointed out how access and community remain central to its survival.
“The BisayaFlix app, launched in 2024, has been a game-changer, giving directors and producers a platform to showcase their work through a subscription-based model. We’re seeing student filmmakers from Cebu producing award-winning short films and independent full-length films in Cebuano are still being made despite the challenges. Year after year, Cebuano cinema maintains its presence in national and regional film festivals across the Philippines,” said Perocillo.
But as “Nocebo” and “Patay Na Si Jesus” actress Fonacier asks, in a country made up of thousands of islands, “how many islands do we have and that also means how many stories do we have and how many of these stories are not being told?”
Persistent barriers
Still, structural challenges persist. Many of the featured directors and talents feel compelled to move to Manila to find opportunities, even though Visayas and Mindanao has a large Cebuano-speaking population. “That means there should be a market for Cebuano films,” Lopez pointed out.
Yet perceptions remain a barrier. “When they hear that your film is Bisaya, it’s considered limited,” she added. Victor Villanueva echoed this sentiment: “To break the stigma that proper entertainment has to be Tagalog.”
“There are investors who want to invest in cinema but don’t want to invest in regional cinema because to them, it won’t sell,” said Fonacier.
“Cinema is a capital-intensive industry,” Lopez emphasized, underscoring why regional productions struggle to compete.
This gap is further exposed by policy. Filmmakers continue to question the 30 percent amusement tax, widely seen as a burden on local productions. When Cebu City approved a five percent tax reduction for a celebrity concert in 2025, it raised a critical comparison: if incentives can be granted for one-night events, why not for films that take years to create?
Many believe the solution lies in consistency. A standardized system and long-term support could stabilize the industry. As Perocillo observes, Cebuano filmmakers often sustain the scene themselves, “funding films out of their own pockets or relying on grants from Metro Manila.”
Despite this, the community persists. “Since Cinebuano’s premiere in 2023, I’ve noticed that the scene is still largely kept alive by community efforts,” Perocillo said.
“The community may be small, but the talent is amazing,” he added.
Looking forward
There are also emerging signs of hope. A proposed Creative Entertainment District aims to position Cebu as a hub for creatives. If realized, Perocillo believes it “could have a lasting, positive impact on the future of Cebuano cinema.”
Ultimately, Cebuano cinema exists in a space between persistence and possibility. As reflected in “Cinebuano,” its future depends not only on talent but on alignment. Expertise-building, audience development and meaningful institutional support.
What filmmakers are asking for is not excessive. As the voices in the documentary suggest, the call is simply consistency. Not one-time gestures, but sustained collaboration, policies that lower barriers, spaces that nurture growth and systems that allow Cebuano stories to be told, not borrowed, on their own terms.