Where goes the revolution?

This one I wrote very soon after the four day revolt, but it was rejected by the Manila Chronicle, I figured because the editor was still in euphoria-heights, but could be also because I ended with Halley’s Comet ;-)

Early March 1986. I’m still reeling from the revolution. A mind-boggling soul-stirring manifestation of the higher powers of a praying people.

Radio Veritas was the medium of the revolution. And right now we could all do with more of the kind of broadcasting – people-oriented, bilingual with a highly Tagalog bias, intelligent, consistent, Christian, and caring – that RV gave us those 17 days from the 7th to the 23rd of February.

It was a relief when, on the 24th, TV Channel 4’s first free broadcast was launched by, among others, RV’s Orly Punzalan and Fr. Efren Dato. It felt right. I thought Veritas was back and, hallelujah, on TV, too. What a break. What magical days!

But unpredictable, full of twists and turns. As it turns out, the liberated TV station does not have the facilities and field equipment required for on-the-spot news reporting. Only a lot of telephones through which flood in, naturally, calls from the people with all sorts of questions, suggestions, reactions, messages, appeals, donations, updates and the like, a la Radio Veritas. Alas, Orly et al have long been taken over by other volunteer anchorpeople, mostly amateurs, mostly TV and movie and recording pop stars, na magagaling lang kumita pero wala namang alam, mostly waxing euphoric about people power, apparently impelled by a great need to display, assert, their participation and triumph (yes, Behn, opportunists all), when not trying (very hard) to answer / respond to gut questions from the public – e.g., how does one handle / sublimate ill feelings toward sipsips and balimbings? if this is the people’s television, why are the people having such a hard time getting in, getting heard, getting answers to their questions? – and failing miserably.

Where’s the Church? Whereare the nuns and priests and lay apostles? Why have they stopped talking to / communicating with the people? Have they been stopped? By whom? Can it be that so soon the Church has resumed a non-partisan stance? Back to the traditional separation of Church and State?

But what about the revolution that’s still going on in the minds and hearts of Christian Filipinos, affecting his interpersonal relationships, affirming some values but overturning others? It’s a second phase that’s begging for guidance, for guidelines, temporal and spiritual. Perhaps the Church can be persuaded to resume its revolutionary posture, demand a chunk of TV time, for the good of the Whole? Or have we learned nothing (!) from the Radio Veritas experience.

Whose idea was it anyway to call in commercial performers to man the mics? Why not the masscom specialists and their professors, why not the political scientists, the community elders, the people experts, particularly the Tagalog-speaking ones? Anong katutturan ng salita kung iilan ang nakakaunawa? Paano naman ang karamihan? Sadyang sawing-palad na lamang?

For the new TV 4, this rebirth should not be just a matter of straightening out the station’s ownership and getting on with production and programming. The people’s television can become more than just another propaganda machine, can set new / higher standards for Pinoy television arts, long rendered mediocre by a profit-oriented anti-people system. A microcosm of the macrocosm. (The part is also a Whole, and reflects the patterns of larger Wholes.)

Of course it is no coincidence that the upheaval is occurring just when Halley’s Comet is a-visiting. Yes, HC is still around, just dropped out of sight in January when its orbit took it behind the sun (from earth’s point of view). It’ll be back within sight of telescopes soon, within the next two weeks, and will remain in sight as it gets closest to earth sometime in April. Which augurs many more twists and turns, ready or not.

As it hurtles through our solar system in pursuit of a 76-year orbit, Halley’s Comet is wreaking cosmic havoc, disturbing celestial patterns, invading and altering force fields, including that of planet earth’s (surely we are experiencing a peak in the frequency of earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, unexplained collisions and explosions such as the Challenger, and extreme highs and lows in temperatures) and her creatures’ physiology, chemistry, life energies, and (in the case of humans) psyches.

Individually and collectively, we are being compelled to make changes, to break out of patterns, to strike out on new roads toward a more humane social order. Let’s not waste these precious moments. Let’s make the most of this heaven-sent point / parentheses in time and space that has so far proven pregnant with potential. Let’s get our act together as a people. Differences are reconcile-able on a collective level of thought, where the good of the Whole has primacy over the good of the few.

Verily, the Age of Aquarius is here. Seeds sown now will bear revolutionary fruit. Said Carl Jung, “Whatever is born or done this moment of time, has the qualities of this moment of time.”

In the name of Christmas

Parade / Notes of a TV Junkie / 15 Dec 1982

Christmas is here. There’s no denying the cool evenings and chilly dawns. There’s no missing the storewindows decked out in buntings of red & green & gold, beckoning, inviting, warm and welcoming and enticing, reminding us all, lest we forget, that the holiday season looms straight ahead and it’s time to make Christmas lists, to shop, to be generous, to give in a spirit of love and goodwill.

So, too, with television. Can-afford sponsors have momentarily replaced their regular ads with specially-made Christmas commercials, the better for us to see (in living color yet) and hear about the wondrous joys that are ours for the taking (in exchange for money, of course). The message is clear. Indulge, indulge, this the season to be merry.

I like to think that I’m impervious to it all, that I can watch and not be swept up by the merciless onslaught on the human, the acquisitive, the greedy in me. But it’s a difficult battle. My own children are not in my camp. The commercials that offend me because they tease my children with a cornucopia of material goodies that they don’t really need are the very same commercials that they make abang for, the ones they watch with eyes popping, hearts pumping with excitement, hands craving to touch, to hold, to play. No more shifting to other channels during commercials. At least not where I watch TV, where child power equals, sometimes supersedes, parent power.

Thanks to television commercials, it’s getting harder and harder for parents of normal, growing, impressionable children to explain about values and priorities. Parents are pulled this way and that. What to do? Indulge them, given them their Lego sets and Barbie dolls and Twin Stars and Mighty Kids lest they grow up anxious and envious and frustrated? Or do we give them more credit than that, appeal to their minds, help them understand the difference between essentials and junk, point out the alternative joys that can be derived from other less shiny, less obvious objects?

A balance is difficult to reach, much more to maintain. We end up buying them a sample of everything that our middle-class means can manage and yet I always feel that it’s still too much, they cost too much, we waste hard-earned money on plastic toys that crack, break, splinter, hurt, on not-for-cuddling dolls that cost a small fortune to clothe, house, make happy. Where’s my sense of values? Going, going, gone.

Were I a witch with a magic wand, I’d wave the trusty thing and in a flash commercials would disintegrate and forever be gone. But I don’t have a magic wand so it’s back to the salt mines or I might not survive Christmas. Television’s got me by my tail.

What’s in a Special?

Observer, Sunday Magazine of Times Journal 14 February 1982

The drumbeating that heralded Kuh Ledesma’s special Ako ay Pilipino was extraordinary. Press releases promised a musical docu on Philippine culture, to be aired at least once by every television network within a span of four consecutive weekdays, no less. The timing wasn’t bad either: right smack in the midst of the first Manila International Film Fest. The unprecedentedness of the entire affair was delightfully intriguing. It better be good, I thought.

Aside. Daily and weekly television shows, whether foreign or local, drama or comedy, variety or musical, tend to slip into unremarkable ruts. The tedium of producing one show after another, day after day or week after week, on limited budgets and inhumanly unvarying timetables cannot but affect the quality of the finished product.

A TV special, on the other hand, is always worth catching. Conceived on a grand scale, production funds allow for toprate talents, costumes, props, technical crew and equipment, unlimited film footage, travel and location-shooting expenses, etcetera. Seeking to impart a special message or, at the very least, to sell some superstar to faceless masses, the magic of television is invoked and placed in the hands of artists in film.

There is no excuse for slipshod work in the making of a TV special. Time to think, to plan, to research, to dream, to cover alternative angles, to re-shoot imperfect sequences, and to edit taped material into a creative and cohesive whole – all thisis given. End of aside.

Kudos to Kuh

As a musical, Ako ay Pilipino was special. Witch-woman Kuh Ledesma was an excellent performer. Interpreting Pilipino songs of love and pride and life and roots, her voice rang clear and true, never wavering though crooning now, belting anon, sighing, seducing, demanding, asserting, expressing. The lipsynching was so well done (9 on a 10-scale, I’d say), it was easy to pretend she was singing live.

Ledesma’s portrayal of a native Filipina departed from the extravagantly emotional and gestural. Clad in the exotic raiments of a brown goddess, the angular frame moved simply, sparingly, sometimes striking unlikely yet strangely dramatic stances with an aloof intensity. A mere wrinkle of dark brows over black sparkling eyes was all it took to convey a whole gamut of emotions and passions. Projecting powerfully, she sustained moods with enviable control and sensitivity.

Cameras captured her from every angle, zooming in, zooming out, encircling and embracing, caressing like a lover. It was a visual experience seeing the brown high-boned face close up, catching the play of light on its shadows, watching her change into maiden, princess, nymph, witch in the wink of an eye. Viewers were enthralled, not so much by the music, as by the audio-visual apparition of Ledesma at her craft.

Whither went Philppine culture?

The repertoire consisted of original Pilipino compositions by Canseco, Faustman, Labrador, Francia, Lumbera, Cayabyab and Pedero. Beautiful music, heart-gripping lyrics: some movie themes (like Dito Ba), some truly ethnic (theme from Mahal), some popular ones re-arranged to a slower beat (Kayganda ng Ating Musika) – all in all a get-away from the danceable and the commercial.

Edited into musical gaps were a series of film clips: one of a white anthropologist talking of the nose flute of mountain tribes; two of a humanities professor on the Filipino lowlander’s romantic temperament and music; two of another anthropologist on the social systems of the Palawan minorities; one of Lucrecia Kasilag showing off primitive courtship instruments; and one of a Tiboli anthropologist on the Tibolis.

That the film clips had interesting bits of cultural information to offer, and that Kasilag was a swinging surprise at the eight gongs are neither here nor there. What struck the viewer halfway through the hour was the apparent unrelatedness of the documentary to the musical portion.

What did Ledesma’s songs have to do with the Palawan minorities and the Tibolis? Which of the songs she sang epitomized the lowlander’s amorous style? There was simply no script to speak of, no attempt made to string the separate parts towards some semblance of a theme or message. It was like watching two different shows, one a musical and one a docu of sorts, that got edited into each other by mistake.

Yet, had the docu portion been handled well, Ako… might not have needed a script at all. Had the focus of documentation been the music of the cultural minorities rather than a hodge-podge of lifestyles and rituals, then a theme might have emerged, unbidden. Or, what if Ledesma had taken a more active role in the documenting task? She had ample chance to interview and jam with the natives in whose costumes she was garbed, on whose tribal grounds she treaded, but she held apart instead. As if her physical presence were sufficient and only for the sake of ambience anyway.

A pity. All that dazzle was for naught. Ako… left the viewer feeling empty and wasted. Nothing learned. Nothing gained.

Superstar Blues

Parade Dec 1980

I am an unabashed fan of Nora Aunor. Her phenomenal rise from “rags to riches” never fails to rouse the green-eyed monster in me. The countlessness and constancy of her following never ceases to amaze and impress me.

In the beginning (a decade or so ago) though, when all Aunor had going for her were the golden voice and the hordes of screaming devotees, I almost wrote The Superstar off as simply another successful, if hysterical, product of the mass media machine.

But Aunor didn’t let the grass grow under her feet. She branched off into cinema and the next thing I knew she was reaping Best Actress and Best Picture awards left and right from prestigious-enough local film academies. I changed my tune then, even forgave her for neglecting her singing career. There’s more to the girl after all, thought I.

A Gate Pass

I literally jumped at the chance to interview Nora Aunor. Why not? It is not an easy matter for a free-lance writer to get a celebrity of her super-stature, one yet who has her own coterie of scribes to pen whatever she deems fit for public consumption.

I had visions of going beyond and / or beneath the usual, of catching Aunor with hair and guard down, of subtly but brilliantly eliciting profound thoughts and personal insights borne of her unique life experience.

It didn’t take too long, of course, before I realized that there was going to be no “candid conversation” with the Superstar, no intimate soul-baring tete-a-tete in the privacy of her boudoir.

The interview was arranged for Parade by Manny Fernandez, one of Aunor’s publicity officers, and in return for the favor I was to please mention certain Aunor starrers currently being promoted. The setting was Fil-Am Studios in San Francisco del Monte where Aunor was dubbing for the movie “Bona.”

The Pick-Up

Tape recorder in tow I hied off with friend Mitch (a.k.a. Maya Valdez na kaibigan ni Ate Guy) to pick up Fernandez at the corner of Roces Ave. and Quezon Blvd. A plumpish moustached bespectacled man, Fernandez could not stop talking about this, his first blind date. As for Mitch and me, we were both suffering vile hang-overs and our grins were pasted on like paper moons.

On to Fil-Am Studios we went, past the guards who didn’t bother to ask us for I.D.s (thank heavens), into the dubbing room where Aunor and Director Lino Brocka were busy at work.

ASIDE. In the making of local movies, the shooting of scenes (where the director goes “Lights! Camera! Action!”) and the laying on of the sounds (dialogue, music, special effects) are not accomplished simultaneously. An actor emotes twice, so to speak: once at the filming, and once more at the dubbing studio. A film is divided into brief loops, each of which is run over and over again on a huge screen until the dubber is ready to speak the appropriate lines with the appropriate emotions in synchronization with the lip movements on film. END

The Waiting

I was introduced to Aunor by Mitch, and then again by Fernandez. My credentials established, I supposed that we were going to get it on and over with right off. Instead we found ourselves ensconced in padded movie-theater seats, watching and listening to Aunor dub screaming crying raining scenes with amazing emotion and precision.

During a lull Brocka regaled us with a tale about an aspiring extra who needed more than a dozen takes to get her lines satisfactorily synched. Aunor, I found, is a natural at it. I marvelled at the effortlessness with which she mustered her emotional energies.

I was impressed and all that jazz. But my appointment was for two p.m. and it was already past four. My hang-over was gone and I was raring to go. What now, I wondered. Neither Aunor nor Brocka was showing signs of getting ready for a break.

During another brief lull, Mitch and I went up front (where the mics are situated) to sound Aunor off on whether her next day’s schedule might better accommodate an interview. I didn’t consider a 10-minute coffee break ample time for one, nor was I willing to sit around for much longer.

Aunor was apologetic and readily agreed to my suggestion that we try it again on the morrow. But, she said, we would still have to meet at the studio because she had more dubbing to do, though on and off, all day. Oh, great, I thought, the ultimate drag!

A Lecture

To top it all, when Bibsy Carballo (another Aunor PRO) heard that I was thinking of splitting, she and Fernandez ushered me off to the coffee shop, ostensibly to offer me a cuppa, but in reality to lecture me on how-to-deal-with-a-Superstar.

CARBALLO: I hope you don’t mind, ’no? Pero you’re not dealing with an ordinary celebrity here. Superstar yang kausap mo. Kahit na sabihin niya na okay lang, bumalik ka bukas, ikaw rin! Baka bukas hindi na siya in the mood. Mabuti ngayon at mukhang maganda ang timpla niya. Madaldal. Kung minsan hindi yan makausap.

Nonplussed me: Ah . . . ganoon ba yon?

CARBALLO: Alam mo ba, ang daming magazine dyan na humihingi ng interview with Guy. Yung isa nga tatlong buwan na naghahabol. Ikaw, nandito ka na, aalis ka pa.

I had stepped into another world where no rules exist except those that the Superstar herself spins off, improvises on, from moment to moment. I felt distinctly disoriented.

And that wasn’t all. I was asked, too, for a run-down of the questions I had prepared. Baka naman daw kaya na nilang sagutin para kay Guy, o baka naman daw mga hindi rin sasagutin ni Guy. I almost fell off my seat.

The Promise

Back to the dubbing room Carballo went to work her particular kind of magic. A few more minutes na lang, she promised.

Fernandez waited with me out in the lobby. Perhaps not to keep an eye on me in case I was thinking along lines of escape, but to keep me company. No doubt he empathized but he was too caught up in the Superstar game to be of any help.

As it turned out I had done right to make waves and rock the boat a mite. In less than 15 minutes, my trusty tape and I were face-to-face with the Superstar.

Nora Aunor is no raving beauty. She is a passably pretty Pinay, petite and light, brown and dusky. Pilipino is her tongue and mundane is her conversation.

Q: Napaka-hectic pala ng buhay mo.

A: Hindi naman. Kaya lang ihinahabol namin sa Filmfest itong “Bona” at saka “Kung Ako’y Iiwan Mo.” Tapos meron pa kong dalawang pelikulang nakalinya. Sabi ko nga, sa susunod isa-isa lang. O kaya, maglagare man, tama na yung dalawang pelikula.

Q: Nabalitaan kong meron kang away sa KBS.

A: Oo. Hindi na nga ako dapat magsalita pa dahil ayoko na sana ng gulo hangga’t maaari. Kaya lang sumama ang loob ko sa KBS sa nangyari. Ganito kasi yon. Nagsho-show ako sa “Superstar” nung narinig ko na merong nagsasagutan sa likod. Nagsumbong sa akin yung isang kasama ko, si Andy, na binastos daw siya nung audioman. Pinagsabihan siya na huwag galawin ang mic ko. Kasi pagkakanta ko, ibinababa ko ang mic ko. Pero hindi maganda ang pagkakasabi sa kasama ko. Kaya kinausap ko yung audioman, itinanong ko kung anong problema. Eh pinagtaasan ako ng boses. Hindi ko na lang pinansin dahil meron nga akong show. Maya-maya heto na naman. Yung isa ko namang kasama ang tinabig, na nakasakit na. Ano na naman yon, sabi ko. Katatapos lang nung isa, meron nang panibago. Pero hindi ko pa rin pinansin. Akala ko pangkaraniwang away lang.

Tapos, nung pauwi na kami, napansin ko na naiwan yung isa naming kasama sa loob. Binalikan ko siya at hustong-husto nakita ko na inaambaan na nitong audioman ang kasama ko. Doon ako lumapit sa audioman. Pero parang tinapik ko lang siya sa pisngi. Hindi ko sinampal. Meron pa ngang nakaharang sa amin kaya hindi ako nakalapit ng husto. Nakangiti pa nga ako. O, tapos na yan, ha, sabi ko pa.

Kinabukasan, or two days after, binira ako ni Rod Navaro sa radyo. Binira nila ako sa “Eat Bulaga,” ginawa pang pa-contest. Sabi ko, bakit naman ganoon. Ang feeling ko parang wala na yung protection na dating ibinibigay sa akin ng KBS. Tapos nabalitaan ko pa na nagreklamo pa daw sa Crame yung audioman. Meron daw mga physical injury, mga tama sa katawan, kesyo ganoon.

Kaya sumama ang loob ko. Kaya wala ako sa huling show ng “NV Compound.” At malamang, hindi ako lalabas sa “Superstar” hangga’t hindi naaayos ito. Hindi sa lumalaki ang ulo ko. Kaya lang, ang sa akin, parang pamilya ko na ang KBS. Kasabay ko mag-start ang KBS. Hindi ako galit. Nagtatampo lang ako. Parang anak na nagtatampo sa magulang.

Q: Marami ka pa rin bang mga alalay?

A: Ang mga fans basta napalapit na sa akin, hindi ko na itinuturing na fans. Kaibigan na ang turing ko sa kanila. Kasama ko sila sa mga lakad ko. Ayoko ngang tinatawag silang alalay e.

Q: Bakit parang iba nang iba ang mga kasama mo?

A: Hindi naman. Nagkakataon lang na yung iba nag-aasawa, yung iba nakakahanap ng ibang trabaho.

Q: Hindi ka ba naghahanap ng anonymity kung minsan?

A: Oo. Madalas naiisip ko na sana makapag-shopping ako na walang nanggugulo. Kasi malimit mangyari sa akin, halimbawa’t namimili ako, hindi ako makapili ng mga gusto ko dahil lahat sila nagsusunuran, nagpapapirma, ganyan-ganyan. Dampot na lang nang dampot. Napapamahal tuloy ang nabibili ko.

Q: Meron ka pa bang natitirang mga panaginip na hindi pa natutupad?

A: Sa pagka-singer ko, siguro yung maka-perform ako on stage na ako lang mag-isa. O kami lang ng banda. Yan ang hindi ko pa nagagawa. Mag-live concert.

Q: Kailan mo balak isakatuparan yan?

A: Pag wala na siguro akong ginagawang masyadong maraming pelikula. Matagal ko nang balak yan kaya lang sabi ko, kung apat-apat naman ang ginagawa kong iba, wala rin akong time para mag-rehearse. E importante yon. Ako pa naman. Meron akong daga sa ganyan. Kaya kailangan talaga yung mapapagukulan ko ng panahon.

Q: Pagdating sa pagka-artista, meron ka pa bang hindi nagagawa?

A: Ang pinakamimithi ng isang artista ay ang makakamit ng mga award. Sa ngayon wala na akong hinahabol pa kundi ang pagbutihin na lang ang aking pag-arte. Lalo na ako, marami pa akong hindi alam, marami pa akong matututunan.

A Final Toast

I had set out to plumb the depths of a superstar’s soul but failed dismally in the attempt. Asking Aunor personal questions is like banging one’s head against the proverbial stone wall. Going beyond and / or beneath the usual is simply not allowed.

So much for my interviewing skills, said my ego to my soul.

Here’s looking forward to the golden day when Aunor sheds her defenses and emerges from her snug superstar cocoon.

You have a rare tale to tell, milady, but the cat’s got your tongue, methinks.

Post Script

The following Aunor starrers have December-January playdates: “Bona” with Philip Salvador, directed by Lino Brocka: the story of an aspiring actor and his alalay (kasama?). “Kung Ako’y Iiwan Mo” with Christopher deLeon and Rollie Quizon, directed by Laurice Guillen: the story of a superstar-singer and the two men in her life (true to life?). “Bakit Bughaw ang Langit” with Dennis Roldan, directed by Mario O’Hara: the story of a mental retardate and the woman who helps him find his way through life.

Fair enough?