Fil-Am Spider-Man

Written by Rodrigo Mariano

Art by Benjamin Lee DeGuzman

In 2002, Matt Gatchalian, a four-year-old Filipino-American, was dragged to a theater in rural Connecticut by his parents. At the time, the theatrical experience was bigger than it had ever been, albeit broken seats and watered-down soda machines. In a damaged world, it was also the easiest way to escape. In that auditorium the lights dim to the visual splendor of web-slinging, goblin gliders, and pumpkin bombs; To the record books, Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man was the biggest movie of the year. To Matt, it was the movie that changed his life. 

Matt is the son of two immigrants, Aida and Bong Gatchalian. Coming from Luzon, the biggest island in the Philippines, during the early 1990s, our family split themselves in groups. Aida, Elma, and my mom found a home in Southeastern Connecticut, while the remaining five siblings went to Chicago or stayed in the Philippines. The middle sister married Bong’s brother, and Aida fell in love with Bong. Matt was born in 1998. I wouldn’t be born until three years later. 

After the visit, his parents raved about the film. “My parents’ enthusiasm for the hero rubbed off on me,” Matt recalls. “They were captivated by the performances and Tobey Maguire.” But above all that, it was how American it felt. What does “American” mean to an immigrant, less than a year after two planes crashed into the World Trade Center? In this case, an identity stricken outsider struggling to make ends meet saving the greatest city in the world felt like something to strive towards. Grounded and relatable. Aida also thought Maguire looked like her brother Ming Ming.

Going forward, a love for Spider-Man was always prevalent in the family. (A picture of a young Matt posing next to a costumed Spider-Man at Universal comes to mind.) The recurrence always stood out among other pastimes—going to mass on Sundays, watching The Filipino Channel (TFC), singing karaoke, making pancit and ube for friends and family. But when it came to movies, “My mom is a very casual movie watcher. She thinks Adam Sandler’s Murder Mystery is a masterpiece…If a movie makes her feel good, it makes her feel good. Those original movies made her feel good.” 

As a nine-year old, Matt was disappointed that Spider-Man 3 would be the last one with Tobey Maguire. He considered Maguire’s Peter Parker to be an idol of his, but it wouldn’t be long until someone else took the mantle. He remembers poking his mom during the screening, “[Sandman] looks like Uncle Taniel.” Reacting defensively, Matt backtracked, “Hindi naman.” 

When Andrew Garfield was cast in The Amazing Spider-Man, Matt showed his mom. “Yung gwapo sa Facebook? Yung magaling umarte?” To her it was a good choice. During our grandma’s first death anniversary in Chicago, ten of us cousins went to see the movie to escape from family. We had to split up because the theater was so crowded. In 2014, Matt and I saw The Amazing Spider-Man 2 in 3D. It was also the first time I hung out with a girl named Julianna outside of school. At the moment of this writing, we’re dating.

Years later, Tom Holland’s Spider-Man wouldn’t connect with Aida. “My mom did not enjoy Captian America: Civil War. She was so lost… They watched it because Spider-Man was there, but halfway through she was falling asleep.” I remember showing Matt the trailer for Civil War at a New London pizza joint. The excitement was palpable. But that wasn’t something that translated all too well with the family he often shared this love with. I for one, was ecstatic to see a person my age on the screen. I aced an algebra test the same day Peter Parker did. Matt ended up watching Spider-Man: Homecoming in the Philippines, near Manila in Cogeo Village. The title of the movie stood out for that reason. He pestered Kyla, our eight-year-old cousin, that Spider-Man’s best friend, Ned Leeds, looked just like him. Wait, Spider-Man’s best friend looked just like him.

It took him a while to process. After all, he was in the Philippines. Ned Leeds, Spider-Man’s best friend, looked like everyone he saw on a daily basis. 

Jacob Batalon was born in 1996, the son of two Filipino immigrants, in Honolulu, HI, on the coast of Oahu’s south shore. His mother, Eva Andres, came to the United States from Pangasinan, in the Ilocos region of Luzon. Taking notice of his singing skills, Andres encouraged Batalon, who ultimately went to Hollywood. It wouldn’t be long until The Philippine Star, the country’s most successful print publication, had Batalon plastered on the front page. The headline—“Spidey’s Best Friend is a Pinoy.” In Batalon’s words, “Ned [Leeds] is very sweet and very genuine. You could even say that he’s somewhat nerdy. He loves technology, he’s super-duper smart… it’s cool having Spider-Man as his best friend.” There is a scene in Spider-Man: Homecoming where Peter sneaks into Ned’s house to find him building a LEGO Death Star. If that’s not Matt, I don’t know who is. 

When Matt first heard that Tobey Maguire was coming back, he told his mom that they had to watch the new Spider-Man. She didn’t really care. “This Spider-Man will be different. There is a surprise.” “Yung lumat. Babalik.” She guessed it. It’s been 20 years since they watched Spider-Man in the theater for the first time. This was important to Matt. It felt important to all of them. Aida recorded Matt’s reaction in the theater when Alfred Molina’s Doctor Octopus first appeared in No Way Home, sparring with Tom Holland’s Peter Parker, to the dismay of her son. They were all looking forward to Andrew Garfield and Tobey Maguire’s return at this point, after all, it was Hollywood’s worst kept secret. 

Five minutes and forty-seven seconds. That’s how long the scene is, the one where Andrew Garfield and Tobey Maguire enter the universe against a multigenerational Spider-Man rogues gallery. The scene that every fan, audience, and their mother was looking forward to. But something stood out to Matt right away. But not only Matt, but his family as well. Not only his family, but the millions of Filipino and Filipino-Americans who were sitting in auditoriums all over the world. I know it stood out to me. 

Push-in to Ned’s Lola’s apartment. Chairs from the ‘80s, flower walls, money plants, a tablecloth covered with plastic (so it won’t get dirty), crucifixes, displays of Santo Nino, and a painting of Kalabaw on a farm. This list is endless. Before I can catch up with my own thoughts, Ned takes Doctor Strange’s sling ring and opens a portal. Andrew Garfield comes out, but I’m still occupied with the location. “Salamangkero!” Ned’s Lola throws a pillow at Andrew Garfiend and sceams in shock. Lola dressed in a duster, not unlike my own. Zendaya then throws a piece of pandesal at Garfield. From then on, Lola proceeds to interweave her cleaning needs in one of the most monumental scenes in film history. 

“Ned sabnihin mo diyan sa mamang yan na alisin ang agiw sa sulok.”

“Ikaw ha, nagkalat ka na naman. Linisin mo lahat ng mga basura mo dito. At ikaw naman, alam mo naman na gusto ko na itong bahay natin maayos pero tignan mo, dumi dito, dumi doon.” 

Pure Tagalog, no subtitles. Sure, Tobey and Andrew have arrived. But I was laughing too hard to focus, to the distraction of the confused rural Connecticut audience that surrounded me. I never understood or spoke Tagalog, but what makes this alienating conversation different from anything at home. There was a sense of pride there, laughing in that theater, in a way that only myself and other Filipinos around the world could. “Sorry Lola,” Andrew Garfield says after shooting his webs across the dining room table. It was something unlike anything I’ve felt watching a superhero film. Here we are, welcoming Tobey and Andrew to the MCU, all under the roof of Ned’s stern and concerned Lola. 

For Matt, it felt like a justification of his family’s love for the franchise. In a way, it’s because of this love that he always felt it could end up here. Among others, it was also an unabashed leap in representation for Filipinos in American media, one that was never advertised for the novelty of it all. Including and keeping Ned’s Lola as a pivotal part of the scene, without any restraint or shame in Filipino culture, is a crucial step forward in retaining what makes cultural differences unique and special rather than reinforcing the cultural stereotypes that American media has often boxed minority groups into. Representation in the biggest franchise in the world, though small, felt voluminous. 

Afterwards, Matt’s family buzzed about the scene, curious of the actress Mary Rivera, talking about it to their siblings back in the Philippines. It was a highlight for all of us, a point of discussion when we went over to our cousin’s for New Years. Someone said that Tobey looked like Uncle Steve, the one white uncle in the family. 

“Lola” was trending on Twitter the weekend No Way Home came out, filled with Filipinos gushing about the scene and their experience with it. Artist and animator Benjamin Lee DeGuzman (Spider-Man 3, Call of Duty: Black Ops IV) took the prompt a step further, creating a series of comic book variants titled “The Further Adventures of Ned’s Lola.” Covers included Lola stopping the Green Goblin with a rosary, using the Venom symbiote as dinuguan, and doing the “Electric Slide” at a party alongside Electro. I reached out to the Filipino-American artist to ask what compelled him to make these.

“First and foremost, it’s because I finally saw myself in a superhero film,” DeGuzman said. “I draw geeky things all the time, but it was a huge priority for me to celebrate Ned and his Lola in some way. I was raised in a house like Ned’s. His Lola reminded me of my own…It’s like I’m partially drawing me and my grandma.” 

There is a scene in Spider-Man: No Way Home that may allude to why we gravitate towards Spider-Man so much, why minorities who feel underrepresented or unseen relate to Peter Parker, Miles Morales, or any Spider-Man. As Electro gives up his fight, he says to Peter, “You’re from Queens. You got that suit. You help a lot of poor people.” He continues by saying he just thought Peter would be black. The idea of Spider-Man is the idea of the everyman. It always has been. Creator Stan Lee once said,  “What I like about the costume is that anybody reading Spider-Man in any part of the world can imagine that they themselves are under the costume. And that’s a good thing.” That’s what puts the “man” in Spider-Man. 

While animating for a school project a few years ago, Matt, surrounded by his LEGO Star Wars displays, heard his mom open the door. On his monitor, she is not surprised at all, he was making a model of Spider-Man. “You know, you’ve always liked Spider-Man.” To him, that felt like a no-brainer. She proceeded to remind him of a memory he’d forgotten. In the Summer of 2004, Aida and Bong brought Matt to Six Flags. He couldn’t ride many of the attractions yet, so they took him to a magic show. There was a small crowd of families gathered at the pavilion, but once the show started, it was not long until they needed a volunteer. Knowing Matthew was nervous, his mom offered him up in a way that was noticeably nonchalant. Standing in front of the crowd, the magician asked six-year-old Matt who he was. Masking his identity, he said, “I’m Spider-Man.”

You can view this piece on page 24 in our spring 2022 issue, Lunchbox: Renewal.