Walk a Mile

When, with unblinking earnestness and nary a trace of irony, Imelda Marcos tells the camera that "when they went to my closet, they found shoes, not skeletons," Philippines-born filmmaker Ramona Diaz's heart must surely have leaped – she had her gotcha moment, her Imelda in the 16mm can. After all, it was the 3,000 pairs of shoes housed in the closet of the former first lady of the Philippines that "became a legend most." But what surprised Diaz – who followed a fully cooperative Marcos around the Philippines for 30 days in 1998 – was that almost a decade after the couple was ousted, Mrs. Ferdinand Marcos was completely without remorse or guilt for their decades of repressive martial-law rule. Denial or self-delusion? (Ferdinand died in exile in Hawaii in 1989, and Imelda was allowed to return in 1991 to her homeland and remain so long as she adhered to the conditions of what amounts to a "country-arrest," in which the government holds her passport and must approve her travels. Her request that her husband be buried in a cemetery for state heroes was denied, and his body will lie entombed in a mausoleum in the back yard of the governor's mansion in his former home province until the state agrees to the burial Imelda feels he is entitled to. (Meanwhile, litigation is ongoing in more than 150 suits, and there are huge, unsatisfied judgments having to do with the disposition of the hundreds of millions that the Marcoses funneled out of the country to private Swiss bank accounts.)

To Imelda's thinking, Diaz concludes, the very public life of a jet-setting royal that Imelda lived – the glamour and excess; the bling and over-the-top, hand-embroidered couture collection (the detailed stitching of which caused at least one seamstress' blindness); the lavish travel and entertaining; the incongruous meetings and photo ops with heads of state and Hollywood stars; the state moneys squandered on luxury hotels, theatres, and expensive building projects useless to her impoverished constituency – was good for her country.

"She doesn't think she and her husband did harm," Diaz says. "She thinks she uplifted the Filipino image because, there she was, this beautifully coiffed woman, traveling around the world, representing a country that, before her, was known only as this poverty-stricken place. It was all image: Imelda felt that her image uplifted the people; they were able to live vicariously through her and that was enough. To her mind, she put the Philippines on the map." Imelda, who in 1965 was called "the Jackie Kennedy of Asia" by Life Magazine, now divides her time between her several Philippines residences and her travels to Europe and New York, living quite comfortably, fully attended, on what she vaguely refers to as the "kindness of strangers" and the $90-a-month government pension check she receives as the widow of a war veteran.

In her award-winning film, now being shown theatrically (and on PBS's Independent Lens on May 10), Diaz makes use of extensive archival footage, chronicling the intertwined history of the country and its ambition-driven first lady. There are scenes here you couldn't make up – the young Imelda coming in second in a beauty contest and prevailing upon the judges to crown her the winner, the lavishly gowned Imelda dancing at state parties with Henry Kissinger, chatting with Gadhafi, being serenaded by George Hamilton. Some have criticized the film for seeming to accept uncritically Imelda's version, which is freely offered throughout. When asked, for example, about the 1983 slaying of Marcos' opponent, Benigno Aquino, in which, though never proved, many saw the Marcos hand, Imelda says, "We were the ultimate victims." Diaz says the viewer must be the judge. Diaz, a self-described "martial-law baby," having grown up knowing only life under the Marcos regime, says her goal was to flesh out "the grays – as opposed to the black and whites – of good and evil. How someone who really believes she's doing good can be so wrong – mainly because there's this whole system telling her she's wonderful. One gets detached from reality living in a bubble. This happens to a lot of people in power."

Austin Chronicle: What was it like working with Imelda?

Ramona Diaz: I was surprised by how smart she was. And she's very funny. Also very media-savvy and very directable. The only question she refused to answer was the one about her husband's philandering. That went against her philosophy that a woman could be as beautiful as she was and still have a philandering husband. She would simply leave the room. At other times, say, if she just got tired of the filming, she would never ask, "How long is this going to take?" – she's very nonconfrontational, very Asian that way – she would just leave the room. I would think she was just taking a break, but then we'd be informed that she'd left the building! Sometimes left town. So we finally figured out the way to handle this was to find out when she was coming back and meet her at the airport with the camera crew – she loved that! Or bring the crew to the restaurant where she was having lunch, when she was supposed to be meeting us at her apartment. ... She'd always leave these little clues as to her whereabouts. She loved the idea of having a crew following her again. Then we'd just pick up like nothing had happened, no explanations offered. Other times, she'd keep us waiting for hours while she was in her room. I stressed about all of this for a while, and then, at some point during the shoot, I knew that she was going to give us what we needed, and I knew that she wanted the film made too, so I relaxed.

After a while, I realized I could say no to her and not lose access. For example, after we'd spent three hours setting up for a shoot somewhere, she'd complain, "Oh, it's too hot here!," or, "What an ugly background!," and I'd say, "Mrs. Marcos, we're not moving." She'd complain, but she'd stay.

AC: In the end, did you get the film you wanted to make?

RD: My original idea was to make a purely vérité film – just follow Mrs. Marcos around. Then I realized after the second day of shooting that she was too aware of the camera. She would always address the camera. I wanted a Grey Gardens, but it was impossible. We thought, okay, if she loves talking to the camera, let's let her tell her story.

AC: Certainly one of the most dramatic events in this saga was when Imelda tried to have the film banned in Manila.

RD: When the film got accepted at Sundance last year, I wanted her to come – I wanted to be with her when she saw it for the first time – but she said she couldn't because she "was grounded" by the government, because she'd returned from her last trip 10 days late. Then I heard that she'd gotten hold of a pirated copy and liked it and then later changed her mind. She had someone call and ask me to change some of the scenes (mainly the one about the seamstress going blind embroidering her gowns, of all things) but I said, "Mrs. Marcos, it's a done deal, there was no editorial control involved in this deal." So, she sued the distributor to stop the distribution in the Philippines. Then she offered to drop the suit if I wouldn't call the film a documentary. Then, as the judge was ruling against her in the courtroom, she was holding a press conference outside announcing that she'd dropped the suit and that I'd agreed to "not call it a documentary," which of course was not true. The film, as a result of all this prepublicity, opened in over 30 theatres – not the expected two theatres – and beat out Spider-Man 2 that opening weekend. Not bad for the first theatrically released documentary in Manila. They didn't even know what a documentary was: When the publicist would talk about the film, people would ask, who's playing Imelda?

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Imelda screens as part of the Texas Documentary Tour on Wednesday, Feb. 2, 7pm, at the Alamo Drafthouse Village. Ramona Diaz will conduct a Q&A after the screening. Tickets are $4 for current Austin Film Society members and new members joining before the screening, as well as students, and $6 for nonmembers. They are available through the Austin Film Society (www.austinfilm.org) or at the venue one hour prior to screening.