Repackaging the japayuki

By Rissa B. Singson
Inquirer News Service

IN HER high-heeled strappy sandals and smart business suit, Christie Gatchalian-Buan strides confidently into the compound of Gatchalian Promotions. The place is teeming with young, talented women who hope to make it out of the country soon as overseas performing artists (OPAs). On Fridays, when aspiring OPAs flock to her office to be discovered, Christie walks past them, and may stop in front of one applicant and send her straight in for an interview. After being in the talent promotion business for almost 18 years, she can spot a potential talent in a crowd, even if the applicant is 20 pounds overweight.

Christie climbs the stairs to her office, walking past rehearsal halls where Japan-bound dancers are perfecting their routines. Near the stairs is a small room where the mirrors are outlined with incandescent bulbs. A makeup artist is busy beautifying yet another would-be artist while the other girls touch up their own faces. A Japanese promoter is arriving to conduct an audition, and the girls are getting ready.

On a wall across the makeup room, professional-looking photos show off some of Gatchalian Promotions' artists decked in their colorful and extravagant costumes. Christie shot these pictures, fruit of the photography lessons she took for purposes like these. Her resumé boasts of other courses she has attended to better equip her for the job as vice president for operations and director of the training center of her family-owned agency. Aside from the leadership and training seminars she has completed, she also took a course in Professional Makeup Artistry at the JLS Makeup Studio in Hollywood, California, and Fashion Designing.

Second generation

Being a second-generation owner of a talent promotion agency, Christie inherited her artistic talents from her mom and her management prowess from her dad. Their multi-awarded company has been one of the pioneers in the industry. Her mom, Teresita Apolinario, was the first recording artist of Villar records, the Philippine's first recording company. She was the vocalist of a band called Ronnie Villar and the Firedons, whose members were the children of the Villars. But before they could wax their first single, Teresita, then 20, married Roger Gatchalian.

But the call of show business didn't wane even after Teresita had kids. When her eldest daughter Christie was seven, Teresita decided to pursue singing as her calling, and went to Japan for a four-month stint with a band. Christie recalls seeing photos of her mom in a fur coat, sitting in a limousine. "That's how highly Filipino artists were regarded then," Christie comments with a sigh and a dream to restore the OPAs to that level once again.

It was there that a Japanese promoter approached her mom, asking if she knew of other bands from the Philippines who could be booked for Japan.

It was the early '70s, and sending entertainers to Japan was as simple as getting a visa. Roger, who was then running the family-owned restaurant, Gatchalian Lechon, handled the paper work. What started as a response to one request soon snowballed into a full-fledged business.

Initially, they would just send talents to the same club where Teresita performed because she could vouch for its safety and wholesome ambience. "The Japanese promoter made good because the bands we sent were really good. Then the other hotels started looking. 'We want more bands!'" Christie narrates.

In their first year, they had 15 principals, mostly from Tokyo, Hakodate and Shizuoka. Their clientele and facilities grew through the years and, in 1985 and 1986, their agency was granted the "Top Performer Award" for having deployed some 3,000 artists in a year. In 1995, they added a training center to their agency to accommodate the growing number of prospective artists they attracted.

Today, their agency celebrates 26 years in the talent promotion industry, antedating even the establishment of the Philippine Overseas Employment Administration. They also boast of the capacity and capability to graduate a thousand true-blue artists yearly.

Recording career

Christie was in first year college when she herself dabbled in show business. Her mom bumped into her old friends, the Villars, who were then in the process of setting up a new company and reviving their recording business. When they found out that Teresita had a daughter who could sing, they asked her to audition. Christie soon signed up with A&W Recording and started with two singles, both songs composed by Rey Valera. "Unfortunately, they didn't become hits because I was in school and could promote them only during the summer," recalls Christie. Then she recorded another one titled "Pira-pirasong Alaala," which became a hit, but could have made it even bigger if her studies didn't get in the way.

But even after completing her degree in Mass Communications, Christie didn't return to show biz. "I prefer being backstage. That's why I got involved with our company. When they decided to put up a production, yun ang feel ko." She wrote scripts, as well as write-ups and press releases for their talents.

Unlike her mom who actually worked in Japan as an overseas performing artist, Christie cannot strictly say she's been in the shoes of their talents. But her short stint in showbiz has given her enough experience to know what these women face in their workplace. "I normally tell my talents, how I wish I had the chance to work abroad because it would be an enriching experience for me. I would have been a more credible trainer if I had been there, done that."

It's almost impossible to listen to Christie speak of the plight of the industry and miss out on the passion she has for overseas performing artists.

"The industry has been here for so long but most of the time, we come to know about the negative side, like when someone dies or is abused. But the good part of it has never been really given attention. And probably that image -- the japayuki stigma -- could be the reason why we're having a hard time dealing with the government," laments Christie. "Sometimes they do the thinking for us, without considering our needs. Like them, we want to put order in the industry because this is our business. We want to emphasize its good side. In this campaign, we have the OPAs in mind."

As president of both the Philippine Entertainment Exporters and Promoters Association, one of three associations that represent the whole industry, and the umbrella group Confederated Associations of Licensed Entertainment Agencies (CALEA), Christie and her peers are fighting for the integrity of the Artist Record Book (ARB). It's the accreditation every entertainer needs for them to be booked for performances abroad.

Corruption

The ARB is given to artists who have successfully finished training and passed the testing conducted by the Technical Education and Skills Development Authority (TESDA). But as Christie and her other concerned colleagues have discovered, those with enough money can buy themselves an ARB. "The original concept of the ARB is that no one can question your competence if you have it, because it's assumed that you passed through the proper training and process. But the system itself has been tainted with corruption, because you can now buy an ARB for P50,000 if you want to go and work in Japan," she says. They proved this when the associations raised money and set up a sting operation where they sent an unqualified talent to pay her way through the accreditation system. Without having to take any tests, the person secured a genuine ARB.

Christie and the presidents of the two other associations under CALEA have brought up the matter with TESDA but, to this day, they've been given the runaround. "It's so exhausting because, as an industry, we're supposed to be doing projects that are developmental, like scholarships for people who want to do further studies. Instead, we're so preoccupied in talking with the government about the accreditation system," she complains.

What bothers Christie the most is that, ultimately, it's the OPAs who suffer. "Sayang because they don't have much opportunity here," she says. "Culturally, Filipinos are very, very talented. Like in Japan, for you to be able to play the piano you need formal training. But out here, what are you talking about? We just play it by ear," she gushes.

Once she was talking to a friend who was getting bands for Shanghai. She asked him why he chose Filipino entertainers, knowing how thorny it was to hire them. Her friend replied, "Because they're very talented and hardworking." Amen to that, says Christie, and that's what fuels her passion for showcasing the Filipino artist to the rest of the world.