The memoirs of Filipinos in Hollywood span more than 80 years, dating back to the early 1920s when the first wave of immigrants, who were mostly males, arrived and settled in Los Angeles. Despite the obstacles and hardships of discrimination, these early Filipino settlers had high hopes and dreams for the future. Many sought employment in Hollywood, only to be marginalized into service-related fields, becoming waiters, busboys, dishwashers, cooks, houseboys, janitors, and chauffeurs. They worked at popular restaurants, homes of the rich and famous, movie and television studios, clubs, and diners. For decades, Filipinos were the least recognized and least documented Asians in Hollywood. But many emerged from the shadows to become highly recognized talents, some occupying positions in the entertainment industry that makes Hollywood what it is today--the world's capital of entertainment and glamour.

Examines the migration of Filipinos into the United States, particularly in and around Los Angeles, where the early part of the twentieth century saw these newcomers filling important service-oriented industries, and now find Filipinos contributing to all aspects of life and culture in the area. Original.

Historic Filipinotown was officially designated by Los Angeles City Council District 13 as one of the city's historic geographic areas on August 2, 2002. It is the first Filipino community in America to merit a named area with distinct geographic boundaries. Also known as the Temple-Beverly Corridor, this area is located just west of central downtown. Historic Filipinotown was once home to one of the largest Filipino enclaves in California, a place where many Filipinos purchased their first homes, raised families, and established businesses. The cultural continuity of Filipino families and businesses in the corridor in the 21st century inspired the collective efforts of Filipino organizations, Los Angeles community leaders, and individuals working in concert to establish Historic Filipinotown and maintain its vibrant culture.

Whether presented as exotic fantasy, a strategic location during World War II, or a site combining postwar leisure with military culture, Hawaii and the South Pacific figure prominently in the U.S. national imagination. Hollywood’s Hawaii is the first full-length study of the film industry’s intense engagement with the Pacific region from 1898 to the present. Delia Malia Caparoso Konzett highlights films that mirror the cultural and political climate of the country over more than a century—from the era of U.S. imperialism on through Jim Crow racial segregation, the attack on Pearl Harbor and WWII, the civil rights movement, the contemporary articulation of consumer and leisure culture, as well as the buildup of the modern military industrial complex. Focusing on important cultural questions pertaining to race, nationhood, and war, Konzett offers a unique view of Hollywood film history produced about the national periphery for mainland U.S. audiences. Hollywood’s Hawaii presents a history of cinema that examines Hawaii and the Pacific and its representations in film in the context of colonialism, war, Orientalism, occupation, military buildup, and entertainment.

Award-winning Philippine Daily Inquirer columnist Ruben Nepales interviews Filipino Americans and Filipinos in America who have made it big in the Hollywood scene and beyond: actors Bernardo Bernardo, Alec Mapa, Vanessa Hudgens, Hailee Steinfeld, and Anna Maria Perez de Tagle, singers Charice Pempengco, Luisa Mendez-Marshall, and Charmaine Clamor, TV star Darren Criss, model-actress Bessie Badilla, film production insiders Maricel Pagulayan and Isabel Henderson, cinematographer Matthew Libatique, animators Gini Santos, John Butiu Ronnie del Carmen and Ricky Nierva, filmmaker Ramona Diaz, comic-book illustrator Tony DeZuniga, YouTube sensation Mikey Bustos, and White House executive chef Cristeta Comerford.

This book is a sequel to Cine: Spanish Influences on Early Cinema in the Philippines, and part of Nick Deocampo’s extensive research on Philippine cinema. Tracing the beginnings of motion pictures from its Spanish roots, this book advances Deocampo’s scholarly study of cinema’s evolution in the hands of Americans.

Filipino Americans have a long and rich history with and within the United States, and they are currently the second largest Asian group in the country. However, very little is known about how their historical and contemporary relationship with America may shape their psychological experiences. The most insidious psychological consequence of their historical and contemporary experiences is colonial mentality or internalized oppression. Some common manifestations of this phenomenon are described below: • Skin-whitening products are used often by Filipinos in the Philippines to make their skins lighter. Skin whitening clinics and businesses are popular in the Philippines as well. The "beautiful" people such as actors and other celebrities endorse these skin-whitening procedures. Children are told to stay away from the sun so they do not get "too dark." Many Filipinos also regard anything "imported" to be more special than anything "local" or made in the Philippines. • In the United States, many Filipino Americans make fun of "fresh-off-the-boats" (FOBs) or those who speak English with Filipino accents. Many Filipino Americans try to dilute their "Filipino-ness" by saying that they are mixed with some other races. Also, many Filipino Americans regard Filipinos in the Philippines, and pretty much everything about the Philippines, to be of "lower class" and those of the "third world." The historical and contemporary reasons for why Filipino -/ Americans display these attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors - often referred to as colonial mentality - are explored in Brown Skin, White Minds. This book is a peer-reviewed publication that integrates knowledge from multiple scholarly and scientific disciplines to identify the past and current catalysts for such self-denigrating attitudes and behaviors. It takes the reader from indigenous Tao culture, Spanish and American colonialism, colonial mentality or internalized oppression along with its implications on Kapwa, identity, and mental health, to decolonization in the clinical, community, and research settings. This book is intended for the entire community - teachers, researchers, students, and service providers interested in or who are working with Filipinos and Filipino Americans, or those who are interested in the psychological consequences of colonialism and oppression. This book may serve as a tool for remembering the past and as a tool for awakening to address the present.

Through close readings grounded in the socio-historical context of each work, Ty studies how authors and filmmakers meet the gaze of the dominant culture and respond to the assumptions and meanings commonly associated with Orientalized, visible bodies. Ty does not survey Asian Canadian and Asian America literature, but presents readings of selected texts that actively engage with issues of otherness, visibility, and identification. Many of them, she says, are in the process of working out how larger issues of representation, power, and history affect Asian North American subjectivity. Parts of the work have been published previously.

In this new work, Linda España-Maram analyzes the politics of popular culture in the lives of Filipino laborers in Los Angeles's Little Manila, from the 1920s to the 1940s. The Filipinos' participation in leisure activities, including the thrills of Chinatown's gambling dens, boxing matches, and the sensual pleasures of dancing with white women in taxi dance halls sent legislators, reformers, and police forces scurrying to contain public displays of Filipino virility. But as España-Maram argues, Filipino workers, by flaunting "improper" behavior, established niches of autonomy where they could defy racist attitudes and shape an immigrant identity based on youth, ethnicity, and notions of heterosexual masculinity within the confines of a working class. España-Maram takes this history one step further by examining the relationships among Filipinos and other Angelenos of color, including the Chinese, Mexican Americans, and African Americans. Drawing on oral histories and previously untapped archival records, España-Maram provides an innovative and engaging perspective on Filipino immigrant experiences.

When the Vietnam War punctured the myth of American military invincibility, Hollywood needed a new kind of war movie. The familiar triumphal narrative was relegated to history and, with it, the heroic legacy that had passed from one generation to the next for more than two hundred years. How Hollywood helped create and instill the American myth of heroic continuity, and how films revised that myth after the Vietnam War, is what Armando José Prats explores in Hollywood’s Imperial Wars. The book offers a new way of understanding the cultural and historical significance of Vietnam in relation to Hollywood’s earlier representations of Americans at war, from the mythic heroism of a film like Sands of Iwo Jima to the rupture of that myth in films such as The Deer Hunter, Apocalypse Now, and Platoon. As early as the mid-1940s, Prats suggests, fears aroused by the Cold War were stirring anxieties about sustaining the heroic myth—anxieties reflected in the insistent, aggressive patriotism in films of the period. In this context, Prats considers the immeasurable cultural importance of John Wayne, the cinematic apotheosis of wartime valor and righteousness, whose patriotism was nonetheless deeply compromised by his not having served in World War II. Prats reveals how historical and cultural anxieties emerge in well-known Vietnam movies, in which characters inspired by the heroes of the Second World War are denied the heroic legacy of their fathers. American war movies, in Prats’s analysis, were forever altered by the loss in Vietnam. Even movies like American Sniper that exalt war heroes are marked as much by the failure of the heroic tropes of old Hollywood war movies as by the tragic turn of actual historical events. Tracing what Prats calls the “anxiety of legacy” through the films of the World War II and post–Vietnam War periods, this book offers a new way of looking at both the Hollywood war movie and the profound cultural shifts it reflects and refracts.