Legacy — a thought that had crossed my mind once or twice through the years. In the quiet moments of my day, I often find myself drifting toward the idea that I will inevitably leave the world. What legacy would I leave behind? What will people think of me after I’ve passed on?
This thought returned when I attended Nora Aunor’s necrological service at the Metropolitan Theater on April 22. As I looked around — a blend of friends, family, fans and media personnel gathered to celebrate the life of the National Artist — I couldn’t help but wonder if she realized the reach of her work. I have seen a handful of her extensive catalog of films, enough to understand her dedication to the craft, the burden of the spotlight, and the drive to rise above controversies.
It was certainly the topic of conversation when I arrived at the office after covering the event. Jannah, our lifestyle journalist, sat comfortably in her seat, watching a live broadcast of Nora’s burial. I found myself watching beside her, just in time for my one-hour lunch break, and eventually talked with her about the life and legacy of Nora Aunor.
As a National Artist for film and broadcast arts, Nora’s legacy extends well beyond her passing. With close to 200 film roles to her name, I had the impression she started in acting. But what I keep forgetting is that she had an immaculate talent for singing, her first step toward the performing arts.
At a time when Philippine showbiz put mestiza beauty on a pedestal, Nora became the face of a different kind of Filipina representation — one that celebrated authenticity. She was unmistakably Filipino, both in appearance and speech. She served as a turning point in the entertainment landscape, one that had many Filipino women pointing to the screen and seeing a part of themselves in her.
“Her voice and presence pushed the limits of storytelling and female portrayal in Philippine cinema,” Jannah pointed out, to which I agreed.
Nora’s talent for acting championed an approach I am a huge fan of. Her performances in films like Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos (1976), Himala (1982) and T-Bird at Ako (1982), among others, were infused with naturalism and emotional rawness — heartbreakingly human. This added another layer of relatability to her craft, further representing the ordinary Filipino on the silver screen.
She was also eager to bring this representation overseas, netting accolades across various international film festivals. Carrying the Filipino identity with her, she made sure her awards were not just personal triumphs; they were victories she shared with the nation.
Perhaps it didn’t come to me while I was at the service, but as Jannah and I became more and more engrossed in the state funeral, we were awestruck by the artistry on full display. Flowers adorned the casket. Family and friends turned to music, film and art, transforming their grief into a monumental display of beauty and celebration. Perhaps this was how those closest to her saw her — as an embodiment of art.
As our lunch break drew to a close, so too did our conversation about Nora. Jannah and I agreed: Nora Aunor lived as art. She is among the ranks of artists who championed, redefined and embodied the Filipino story, both at home and on international stages.
