Vale Pilita Corrales

Voyage to stardom

The illusionist John Calvert drafted the blueprint for Siegfried and Roy and their Vegas-bombast brethren. His stagecraft, however, leaned heavily on ham and hubris. He was, by most accounts, more showman than shaman. And so, when the cruise yacht he was on, The Sea Fox, got moored off Darwin, Australia in 1959 – a visual approaching Bond-prop campiness, befitting of Calvert’s wont for spectacle – he saw it as an opportunity to work the cameras. 

Australian audiences, however, saw something else in the periphery. If Calvert’s illusions were the smoke – I mean, look, his troupe included a live gorilla, for crying out loud – the real fire was the glamorous assistant by his side: Pilita Corrales. 

She was then the exotic side act, the magician’s aide, but she was clearly meant for much more than the sidelines. 

No vanishing bunnies. No three-count routines. No canned applause. The true miracle was how this young Filipino-Spanish beauty, flung by fate onto an unfamiliar stage, turned a detour into a debut. Her boss conjured fleeting illusions, but what Pilita conjured was an entire career arc. She didn’t just survive; she stayed, she sang, she flourished.

Success comes closer to Pilita

Her brief but storied Australian jaunt wasn’t just a footnote; it was a novella of luck-as-dance, of magical circumstance. Before all of this, she had a radio career back in the Philippines that’d been more miss than hit. ‘I studied the scripts,’ she recounted to the NFSA’s Nick Weare in 2007, laughing. ‘But they were all in Tagalog, and I was saying it all wrong!’, she shared with the clear-headedness of recency, recalling how she inadvertently became typecast in comedy on account of her poor Filipino (having hailed from Cebu).  

Before long, her unintended mooring became the anchor that tethered her to a new future.

Astor Records, back then a record manufacturer, chanced upon Pilita and made a pivot that would rewrite both their fortunes. Up until then, the company had pressed other people’s music, but with Pilita, they decided to do something bold: cut and release a record under their banner. 

The result was ‘Come Closer to Me’, a sultry Spanish-language torch song released in a decidedly non-Spanish-speaking country, by a label that had never charted a single and wouldn’t find its groove until years later, when it started putting out records by Petula Clark and the Kinks.

On paper, it should’ve sunk without a trace. But on air, it went beyond pleasant oddity, capturing the Australian imagination. Part of its sheen and bombast came from the velvet scaffolding provided by Arthur Young and His Orchestra, whose arrangements lent the track a patina of sophistication. 

But as with Calvert, the temptation to think of Young (who was already a name in the biz) as a kind of legitimiser, or magic wand in the form of a white man, was there. The persistent revelation, however, was it’s all Pilita. She was a rare talent: a voice that didn’t just fit the moment but helped define it. 

Pilita tells the story

Pilita snagged an Australian No. 1 in ‘Come Closer to Me’ (a first for a woman with a locally produced record at the time) and would eventually cut three records with Astor: Pilita Tells the Story of Love (1959), her launching pad; the covers compendium I’ll Take Romance (1960); and the anthology This is Pilita (undated). 

In a weird way, Australia became the second finishing school Pilita never expected. The first was in Spain, where she was sent as a teenager, ostensibly to learn the basics of propriety and decorum, with pop stardom not quite on the horizon just yet. But Australia offered a different education: not just theatrics, not just studio work, but the art of winning over an audience that doesn’t quite know what to make of you.  

The prospectus wasn’t cut and dried: landing punchlines; emotive phrasing in any language; effortless timing and banter. In a 1960 appearance on The Bobby Limb Show, she sang a lilting, hypnotic take of ‘September Song’ and then served as visual foil for Calvert once more, some routine where a series of lit cigarettes materialised in the American’s slithering hands, throwing each stick into a bowl held dutifully by Pilita. She embodied the innocence of youth in both numbers, but she was also steeled by a technician’s deliberateness: calculated, cunning, controlled. 

It was irony in full effect: the very country that first saw Pilita as a novelty act would become the stage where she fully actualised herself as a consummate headliner. When she returned to the Philippines in the early ‘60s – after a last stint on The Graham Kennedy Show (AKA In Melbourne Tonight) – it wasn’t as a fledgling talent, but as a bona fide star. What awaited her wasn’t a second chance, but a coronation. 

An Australian address

There would be a much fuller career ahead of her, one where sleight-of-hand pageantry and ‘Come Closer to Me’ didn’t fuel the proceedings: performing Stateside alongside Sammy Davis Jr; opening for the Beatles at their ill-fated Manila show in 1966; breathing life into key oeuvres from Filipino masters like George Canseco (‘Kapantay ay Langit’) and Levi Celerio (‘Ang Pipit’, ‘Matud Nila’); being a mainstay on Filipino television and cinema up until she was in her 70s (she was a judge on the Philippine staging of The X Factor). But her time Down Under had made her sharper, quicker, more in command. The punchline, perhaps, was that it took leaving home to get started on being taken seriously.

When she died in April 2025 at 87, an entire nation grieved, another politely tipped its hat, and a quiet little street in Forest Hill, Victoria – Pilita Street – most likely just kept on doing what suburban streets do: a barbecue here, a jog there, a delivery van somewhere. It remains a curiously named stretch, curious not just because of its tenuous connection to local history, but because it exists at all. Its habitues may never know the full story, and they don’t really have to. 

In a world increasingly allergic to memory, even the smallest gestures of remembrance matter. 

Pilita Corrales' recording of 'Come Closer to Me (Acércate Más)' (Astor Records, 1959) was inducted into the NFSA's Sounds of Australia registry in 2018.

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Main image: Pilita Corrales at an outside broadcast of the 5KA-Astor Show on Radio 5KA in Adelaide with presenter Tony Phillips. NFSA title: 815948