A funny thing happens in the Philippines when you tell someone you’ve met a celebrity.
They insist on seeing a photograph of you with the person. As proof.
It’s not that they don’t believe you; it’s just that they think the event somehow never really occurred — or doesn’t really matter — if you don’t possess a snapshot of you grinning it up next to the famous person.
The need to see a picture — sort of akin to the way families of kidnap victims need “proof of life” before they’ll pay ransom — is ingrained in Filipino culture. Filipinos need to see your celeb encounter in glorious, blown-up color, on a camera, on a Facebook page, or printed out for them. Otherwise it’s only half a story.
The boring half.
Example: recently I got a chance to interview Tom Hanks. Yeah, the Tom Hanks. I thought this was cool, until I started mentioning it to people here. “Got a picture?” my co-workers asked me right away. I shrugged. Nope. “Where’s the photo?” my Filipino uncle asked me a few days later. No photo, I said; Tom wasn’t in a photo-taking mood that day. “Awww!” my uncle said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Like I was lying to him, telling him a whopper about catching a 50-pound trout.
Isn’t it enough that I managed to scrape together intelligent questions and direct them at a Hollywood actor? That’s my job, really. Why do I need to have a photo? To provide proof that I was there? Hey, trust me, I was there!
(But, in truth, I must mention: it’s kind of weird sitting across the table from a real, famous Hollywood actor. You almost feel as though you’re not really with the famous person at all, but an avatar of the famous person, and the real guy or gal is up on a screen somewhere else. Especially when the actor is talking about Asian grosses and script rewrites. I don’t know how Ricky Lo does it all the time.)
But seriously, no Filipino is impressed unless they see that photo. Of course, that’s a national pastime here: tracking down celebrities when they visit Manila and getting their picture. Figuring out what hotel they’ll be staying at. Hanging around the lobby until said celebrity makes an inevitable lobby appearance after going stir crazy in their luxury suite for several hours. Whipping out the camera like a ninja. Begging to stand next to said celebrity. Smiling cheesily. Making that weird “V” sign with the fingers and tilting your head. Just so you can get that money shot.
My sisters-in-law were real pros at this celebrity-stalking thing, back in the day. Whether it was Depeche Mode touching down here or Quentin Tarantino, they were there, front and center, with gifts, smiles and, of course, cameras, in hopes that the celebrity would eventually break down and allow a round of flashes to take place.
Of course, something else funny happens at that point: when the celebrity in the lobby submits to having his or her photo taken with the avid Filipino, an immediate electromagnetic shift takes place — in half a second, 30 or so other Filipinos are immediately attaching themselves to the forced bond between the celebrity and non-celebrity. They also want to be “in the picture,” you see. And the person taking the picture is then asked to dangle 20 to 30 other cameras and cell phones from his or her wrist.
What? Nobody ever heard of e-mailing a copy of the picture?
It’s a little bit different when Filipinos visit New York, or LA, or Paris. If they see a celebrity in these metropolitan cities, they play it cool. They don’t wave their arms around in public like it’s Beatlemania. But they still get their shot.
Sometimes, though, it doesn’t pay to be too celebrity-crazy. That’s because celebrities can turn on you. One pair of Filipinos I know happened to run across French actress Julie Delpy (you might have seen her in Before Sunrise or Before Sunset) while their cab was crawling down the streets of Paris. She was walking along the sidewalk, and spotted the two lowering their cab window to sneak a shot. The two Pinoys were then deeply shocked at the sight of the Julie Delpy rampaging towards them on foot — they carefully rolled up the windows. But they still got an earful from the actress. Our Filipino friends were scolded by Delpy like common paparazzi, so they instructed the cab to flee the scene. Oh, the shame!
I asked a few random Filipinos if they’d ever had trouble convincing their friends they’d met a celebrity without a picture as proof. None of them had. This is because all of them — every single one — had their cameras ready when and if a celebrity happened to be in their proximity. It’s like this became their No. 1 priority: ”Must secure digital evidence of my celebrity encounter.” Never mind that they’re about to get hit by a street bus or the kids’ stroller is rolling down an incline. Get the shot!
So none of them really knew what I was talking about.
I don’t know. Isn’t it enough to just run into a celebrity — on the street, in a café or movie theater — and get a sly glimpse, or exchange a few unscripted words, something only you had the luck to experience? Must it all be commodified by securing a cheap souvenir snapshot (they all look the same, anyway; nobody ever bothers to take off the flash), or worse, begging for an autograph? Huh?
Okay, okay. So maybe I’m just sore that I didn’t get Tom Hanks to pose for a picture. So sue me.