Wednesday, October 17, 2012

'Café Comforts'


It’s out! My poem “Café Comforts” is part of Issue 15 (Autumn 2012) of Diverse Voices Quarterly, an American literary e-zine. The entire issue (which includes my somewhat self-indulgent author’s bio–sorry, am not yet used to capsule-writing about myself) can be downloaded for free through the link below.


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The swirling of steam as it spirals to the ceiling
like a ballerina twirling in numberless pirouettes
gives life to the cup growing cold
in your bare rugged hands.

You whisper in the simmer,
through alternating sips and silence,
the stories pervading the cursory pathways
crafted on your skin.

In this meager setup,
you regale, I remember; you imply, I imagine;
and our cities of sorrow, callow shores, sunsets,
country sides, stars, communal settings –
rise with the smoke to the overhead chandelier.

Over the prancing and brazen glancing
of customers and cats on the sidewalk,
you become the idea and I,
your mural of childhood caricatures –
bursting with color beneath layers of dust.

But once more, the door opens to welcome
the newest buyer, and your eyes betray
a hunger for hours of solitude, for song
and symphonies and speech,
and so you slither back to your cheap comforts
and coffee.

*    *    *    *    *

Sembreak is finally here! I can feel it in the water, I can feel it in the air (channeling Galadriel here). Also, the other day, I finally received word from the editors of Philippine Speculative Fiction 8. End of story. But hey, that’s an email from the Alfars (which can mean nothing to someone else). As they say, you win some, you lose some–but you never stop writing.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Nine, The Seagull, and Other Matters

i. The Journey

1. Last Friday, friends and I watched Atlantis Productions' staging of Kopit and Yeston's Nine (which closed yesterday) at the Carlos P. Romulo Auditorium, RCBC Plaza, Makati City. How I got to the theater is already an epic in itself. In the spirit of good vibes, I shall not disclose my amazing journey here. In psychology, they call it repression. Sad to say, I missed the first one-and-a-half lines of the musical. And that Friday traffic will forever be a curse of Manila.

ii. The Musical

2. Probably the most elaborate set design the Romulo Auditorium will ever have. David Gallo is indisputably a master of his craft. Jay Aranda's lights only made it all the more impossible not to fall in love with the technicals of the show.

3. The singing was impeccable. "Lalalalalala..." is still stuck in my mind. The inconsistency in the accents of the cast, that was disturbing. Why weren't they able to settle on just one?

4. Cherie Gil as Liliane. Carla Guevara-Laforteza as Carla. These two gorgeous women inhabiting their roles with so much passion and dedication won't be leaving my memory anytime soon (or ever).

5. Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo, you are the definition of clarity. Can you do no wrong onstage? And a shout-out to Reg Claravall as the best gondolier in town.  

6. Eula Valdes was a stunning demi-goddess as Claudia - she could have been goddess, were it not for the imperfect top notes in Unusual Way. 

7. What to make, then, of a Nine whose weakest link is ultimately its Guido Contini? The role is one of the toughest in the gamut of musical theater leads, no doubt. But it still pains me to say that Jett Pangan's Guido was nowhere near his best (which was seen and should be seen again in Next to Normal - a heartbreaking turn as Dan Goodman). Where was genuine desperation? Where was internal destruction? In the end, the singing was soaring, the character, a caricature. (Bobby in Company, that's what Mr. Pangan ought to do next. Theater gods, hear this prayer.)

8. Did I enjoy Nine? Yes, though watching with friends probably had much to do with that.   

UP Med 2016 at Nine.

iii. The Stage Door

9. The only time I've "stagedoored" was during Cats with Lea Salonga. But Reg is a friend of one of us, so there. Never knew this could be so much fun, ambushing the actors.

10. Menchu, on whether she'll finally do Gypsy next year: "I want to!!!" (Grabs my shoulders and shakes me.)

11. Cherie Gil, on the possibility of ever doing Doubt again: "I don't know if that's possible, but I'd like to do another role. I'm doing The Graudate next year."

12. Ima Castro (Sarraghina), upon finding out we're from UP Med: "UP Med?! My gosh, UP Med!"

13. Jay Glorioso (Guido's mother) is the gentlest person ever.

iv. The Aftermath

14. We went to Mercato. Rafael Rosell was there. I intentionally passed by him, just so I can claim to have passed by him. Marina is still the 2nd best Filipino television soap for me (after Tayong Dalawa). This is not a discussion on local television soaps, so leave out the criticism.

v. The Next Day

15. Went to UP Diliman for the final English performance of Dulaang UP's The Seagull (by Anton Chekhov). Now where did I read (online) that the Guerrero Theater is in Palma Hall Annex? And to the woman in PhAn who compassionately told me to take an ikot to get to the theater, did you even hear which theater I was asking about?

16. There are so many things that could have gone right with this take on The Seagull. Focus was something the production could have given more work on.

17. Ana Abad Santos as Irina stole the entire show. They should have renamed this The Seagull, or the Ana Abad Santos show, featuring Jeremy Domingo. Mr. Domingo played Trigorin. Leo Rialp (Dorn), Stella Canete Balucas (Polina), Jaime Yambao (Shamraev), and Jacques Borlaza (Sorin) round out the list of six performers who actually delivered and gave justice to their roles. This is all the praise I have for the entire company of actors.

18. I just have to get this out of my system: The actor who played Konstantin was a warbling mess.

vi. The Publication

19. I'm finally getting published! "Cafe Comforts" will appear in the Fall issue of Diverse Voices Quarterly, an American online literary magazine. As the High School Musical tune goes, "It's the start of something new..."

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Notes on "The Mistress"

1. Finally got to see The Mistress, the it girl of local screens for the past three-and-a-half weeks – of course, word-of-mouth is ever the irresistible tool to get the hoi polloi to fill the cinemas to the brim and exit a couple of hours later bursting with satisfaction. 

2. (Above), plus a good old love team that nobody seems to tire of. But more on that later. In short, and in true Pinoy fashion, we simply had to find out what all the fuss was about. Who hasn’t curiously looked at the goings-on of a vehicular accident, anyway?

3. According to one of my friends, “Filipino cinema has finally matured with this film.” I’d have burst out in protestation were it not for my then lack of counter-evidence. Well now I can say to her with utmost confidence and Ebertian certainty, “Maturity my face.” 

4. It's amazing Sari (Bea Alonzo) isn't the least bit freaked out/ scandalized by the maniacal English-spurting stalker inhabiting the  body of JD (John Lloyd Cruz) in the National Book Store opening sequence.

5. The ubiquity of English language dialogue is sort of disturbing. One Tree Hill also had drama, sex, bitching, and infidelity.

6. My favorite character is Anita Linda as Alzheimer's-stricken granny, but then, the filmmakers intended for hers to be our favorite character. Old person plus mental disorders plus good-guy/girl disposition should never fail to win the audiences over. 

7. It's even more amazing, however, how the filmmakers equate a scar on the forehead signifying previous traumatic head injury as primary cause for the Alzheimer's.   

8. Hilda Koronel is love - has always been, ever since she taught me the word "pucha" in Crying Ladies (2003).

9. What's with Filipino films these days and taglines?!

10. "I live to disappoint you, father!" Now I'm no fan of Star Wars, but what's up with that?!

11. The last thirty minutes could have been cut out, and the result would have been a more superior film. I mean, cold patriarch gets an MI to cause a father-son reconciliation? Come on now.

The requisite morning-at-the-beach scene. Photo from the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

Monday, September 24, 2012

A Grand Welcome for the GI Module

How much longer 'til sembreak? Let us count the weeks...

(Lame attempt at Shakespeare right there.)

But to answer the question, it's three - all devoted to the gastrointestinal system. And right now, I'm having the best time starting off this new module - at home, with an upset stomach. Which is funny because right when we were about to start Pulmo in August, it was a respiratory glitch my body was experiencing. 

My epigastrium feels like it's in labor. (Sure I don't know how it feels to be in labor, or have dysmenorrhea, but I surmise this must be it, or somehow close to it.) Contract, relax, swirling bout of weird pain, relax, repeat cycle. 

Yesterday, I finished my fourth non-academic book since the start of school (but this statement is misleading because I haven't even finished any academic book since the start of med school). 

1. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins - Four months after seeing the (unfocused, romanticized) film, and I couldn't help picturing out the scenes as the pages went by.

2. A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon - Domestic drama with a twist winningly set to words. Very, very readable and engaging, or as the cliche goes, "impossible to put down!" 

3. The Comfort of Strangers by Ian McEwan - The author is truly a master of language. Bow.

And now Walter Kirn's "Up in the Air," which is as bleak and dreary as a book on the recent American economic slump can get. I do, however, have to laud, and really, really laud, how the protagonist is written - honest, introspective. 

Oh, by the way, last Friday night was LadyMed 2012 (here's LadyMed 2011, where I played the part of sacrificial lamb for my class). The theme was "Divas," and the contestants were Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Jennifer Lopez, Rihanna, and Madonna. Typing that just reminded me of how incredibly stupid and short-sighted the decision of the selection committee was. How on earth can you pit J-Lo against Lady Gaga, for instance?! Let me repeat that: Incredibly stupid and short-sighted. 

But I digress. Valentina had her final walk, and she was, suffice to say, still the prettiest of them all.

Photo by Leonardo Infante, whose ability to expertly capture moments in motion is in full display here.

Monday, September 10, 2012

To CPR, or not to CPR?

Last Friday during Art of Medicine class.

The topic was "pain, death, and dying" under adult medicine. An interview was conducted in front of the class between our lecturer and a patient with acute myeloid leukemia. That's AML for short, and it's notorious for relapse, so our lecturer said. In other words, it will drain you of money and resources, and the life if you're not lucky. 

But the more interesting part came after. We were presented with a real-life situation that our lecturer experienced some years ago. From the outset, it seemed to demand an answer based solely on ethical standards as provided by those declarations (like Geneva, for example). 

But. hell. NO. Gray areas are what we have in real-life, not some yes-or-no that one can easily jot down on exam papers. So goes.

The matriarch of one of the richest families in the Philippines is dying of cancer. But she doesn't know it. In fact, it's only she in the entire money-making clan who doesn't have a clue about the cancer (inside her). The family, with whom you've been friends for ten years, had requested you not to tell her, and you'd willingly and understandingly obliged.

You are called in on Saturday afternoon because suddenly, she developed pneumonia. Everyone, including yourself, did not see this coming; truth be told, you all thought she was getting by quite fine. Now you have a very old lady with cancer + pneumonia. Not, not, not good. Before everyone's eyes, she's deteriorating - and very, very fast.

The problem is, she hasn't legally passed on everything she owns because she never knew she's dying. She's now fallen into a coma. A thumbprint can be acquired and that would be enough - but only if, by 12:00AM of Monday, she still hasn't been proclaimed dead. Not sure about the exact time, but you get the gist. Why Monday? Because government offices are closed during weekends a.k.a. if she dies anytime during the weekend, the thumbprint, and in turn, the papers will be considered null and void because they were processed while government office was closed. Apparently, processed papers will only be considered legal if they are done while the person in question is still 'alive'.

What happens when everything she owns doesn't get legally transferred to her children? Inheritance Tax. More than half of her estate (so the lecturer said) goes to the government. The immensely, screwed-up Philippine f*cking government. And we're talking riches the scale of Henry Sy or Ayala. While she lived, she never wanted a single cent or acre of land to go to the govenrment. And all of you very well knows that even in death, she'd make sure nothing, not a single drop from her entire life's hard work, goes to the government.

So, keep her alive. By alive, we mean not legally proclaimed dead. And because doing a CPR on an arresting person means not proclaiming death, here's what the family asks you to do: If she goes into arrest anytime during the weekend (which you very well know she most likely will), four burly men will take turns doing CPR on her for as long as the weekend is not over. That means if she dies in the early hours of Sunday morning, you're looking at 16, 18 hours of nonstop CPR. On a body that's very well lifeless.

The question was phrased this way: 16 hours of CPR on a dead body, or no 16-hour CPR?   

It was a question that divided an entire class, 55-45(%). Even our lecturer admitted to never fully knowing whether or not he ever made the right decision.
 
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From cprcertificationtrainingonline.com. 

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Anyway, what happened was this: She arrested at around 4AM Sunday morning, and a 30-minute CPR was done to no avail. And yet, everything she once owned was successfully passed on to the heirs. The Inheritance Tax never came round in time, care of a couple of senators and some friends in government. 

As expected from this country.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

The Journey to an Ateneo-La Salle UAAP Game

I write this in the ungodly morning hours of Sunday with my mind still on Saturday; ergo, I shall refer to Saturday night as 'tonight' and Sunday night as 'tomorrow night'.

Tonight, the 2012 Palanca Awards were given out at The Peninsula Manila. By mentioning that, I am of course confirming that I did enter and lost. Perfectly excusable, since 1) it's my first time to join the adult categories, and 2) it's never not excusable to lose in the Palancas. 

It's like Viola Davis in The Help losing out to Meryl Streep in The Iron Lady - (riot alert! riot alert!) - I mean, Jessica Chastain in Take Shelter losing the nomination to Jessica Chastain in The Help - (RIOT ALERT! RIOT ALERT!) - I mean, Avatar losing to The Hurt Locker for Best Picture - (calm). 

Well, what I meant to say was, winning a Palanca is always the exception, so here's a warm and sincere congratulations to the winners, especially to that of Short Story in English. And for the curious, here's my Palanca win back in 2009, 2nd prize in Kabataan Essay in English.

Ergo, my day turned out quite fantastic. Eli - friend since 4 years old, classmate since nursery, best friend by whatever definition - is here in Manila. Again. (I say that because he doesn't even study here, yet he's here more often than either of my parents are.) Last night - Friday night - he was at the Araneta Coliseum for the Mixed Martial Arts thing (like the one in Warrior starring Tom Hardy, who's now colloquially known as Bane). The entire ordeal involved seven hours of standing, so he said.

Since he wanted to have lunch at some traditional Chinese restaurant that served 'good' oyster cake, I took him to Sincerity Restaurant along Yuchengco Street. I've been there only once, so I wasn't quite sure if it's really that good by expert culinary standards. Turned out to be not quite as good as its reputation paints it to be, but I actually don't care since I don't like venturing into the heartlands of Binondo in the first place. One, because it's always rowdy and overstuffed with people; two, because the horses and their carriages make the entire place reek faintly of horse manure. 

Eli pointed out that it's more or less the same case with every Chinatown, from Singapore to New York. I pointed out that this Chinatown is in the Philippines, where I live; therefore, its innate rowdiness and faint smell of horse manure are legal reasons for me to not enjoy walking down its narrow roads. 

After lunch, we walked from the restaurant all the way to the Carriedo station of LRT Line 1 (in Avenida, Sta. Cruz) and took the train to Vito Cruz station, or De La Salle University. The plan was to eat at Zark's Burgers, but he quickly realized the lunch had transiently left us with not enough space in our stomachs to contain the famed humongous burgers.

So we settled for hanging at Starbucks beside College of St. Benilde and summoning our dearest Iloilo classmate and friend Paopao to come to our side. She had class, then ran off to CCP for the matinee of The Phantom of the Opera. I like that word by the way - 'hanging', denoting the act of hanging out. Like how Americans or conio Filipinos say it: "Let's hang this Saturday," or "I, like, hanged with the barkada at Banapple along Katipunan."

Then, Zhou - Eli's South Korean friend who's currently having his OJT with Jeju Air - answered the summon. So it was, the three of us hanging at Starbucks like a trio of over-entitled elitist brats or med students who find it necessary to study in coffee shops. On a side note, Zhou earns way more in his OJT than most doctors in residency training in this country do.

Then, Eli decided it was time for Zark's. By the way, he'd been saying a lot about not having tickets to the afternoon's Ateneo-La Salle UAAP men's basketball game. So guess what, there and then, one of his contacts texted him saying she still had unsold tickets. He successfully bought them for P200 each. Thus, we found ourselves in a taxi, got off at Legarda station, took the LRT 2 all the way to Gateway Mall, ate a bit at Taco Bell, then got our tickets from a high school batchmate from another school in Iloilo. All that meant four 'firsts' for me: Starbucks in the La Salle area, taking the LRT at Legarda station, eating Taco Bell, and seeing a major UAAP game live.

After 3.25 years of staying in Manila, I finally got to watch a UAAP men's basketball game, and undoubtedly in its most exciting form. We were at the Ateneo side since our seller's an Atenean, but that's just about the amount of loyalty we have for Ateneo. In any case, it was loads of fun cheering the Ateneo cheers like a bunch of presumptious fake Ateneans that we were. 

Which made me realize how out-of-place a UP student/ alumni/ person would feel if he or she went to these games. The last (and first) time I watched a UAAP game, it was women's basketball - UP vs. Ateneo, and we won. But it was only because our PE class required us to watch at least one UAAP game (not in reference to why or how we won.)

We ended the night back at Zark's where Eli tried but failed to conquer the Jawbreaker challenge: 300g of fries, a glass of iced tea, and a half-pound burger - all for free if consumed within five minutes. I feel sick just thinking about it. Sadly, he lost, said he still has much practice to do. He shall return, Zark's.

1st year Intarmed students in the aftermath of a UP-Ateneo UAAP women's basketball game, September 2009.

My first photo using PicFrame.

 The monster. Zark's Burgers across De la Salle University, Manila.

Friday, August 31, 2012

My First Ever Two-Show Day

Leon, Iloilo, November 2007.

Let's not talk about the present. Congratulations to the UP College of Medicine Class of 2012 for being the top performing school in this year's August Physician Licensure Exam (on that note, congrats to Dr. Carol Tan - pride and loyal spawn of Intarmed). 

Let's not talk about un-awesomeness as well. This morning's 2nd (and last) exam on pulmonary medicine was quite, shall we say, unoriginal. Like, incredibly, unbelievably unoriginal. Now I'm no longer certain if anyone of us actually knows, and really knows, enough of Pulmo to be worthy of the next year level.

Instead, let's talk about the awesomeness of last Saturday. 

Because in theater parlance, it was my first ever two-show day. And it wasn't even a planned two-show day, and by 'planned', I mean conceived and laid out the day before.

Friday, I bought a ticket to the Saturday night performance of Upstart Productions' rerun of Forbidden Broadway. That was after I had my haircut at Bench Fix (don't care how it's stylized), Robinson's Manila. A word of advice: Don't go there. The employees are as rude as can be, and the stylists are as uninterested as a bunch of whales watching badminton.

So there I was, set for my grand Saturday-night return to RCBC Plaza. Then I thought, "This will also be the first weekend for PETA's Bona." And the initial critical reactions were quite good. 

Therefore, at around 1:30PM Saturday, I found myself inside a taxi headed for the PETA Theater. I'd thought of taking a jeepney, but then decided against it as it would entail two rides, the second of which would be the horrendous stretch from Manila City Hall to St. Luke's Medical Center.

I Know Him So Well filled the taxi. It was a terrible version, like plastic surgery gone wrong. Two divas screaming their souls out.

Good thinking with the taxi - I arrived at the theater an hour later. But as it's only the opening weekend of a show whose publicity's nowhere near that of The Phantom of the Opera (now at the CCP), quite a lot of tickets were still available. I got a balcony seat for P600.

When I entered the balcony section, I thought this theater must have the best sight lines in the Metro. With an estimated capacity of 400, there mustn't be a bad seat in the house. I settled for the center section's highest row, which was empty at the time.

But heaven must have missed me. Students and teachers of St. Peter's College Seminary (not sure if it's the one from San Pablo, Laguna) were on a field trip. First, they tried out balcony left. Then, some of them saw where I was and so decided to fill the endless void around me. The only awkward thing about it was that I was already seated in the middle of my row, so I ended up being literally surrounded by the group. If you guys ever read this, maybe you can send me links to some of the photos we had.

But seriously though, I'm all praise for this institute (it is an institute, yes?). I may not have age on my side, but perhaps I have passion for the theater enough to be allowed to commend the administrators of St. Peter's for exposing the kids to this side of the arts. Heck, it's beyond brilliant they're taking the time to expose the kids to the arts at all, and not just classroom talk. It's a wonderful, wonderful thing, what they're doing. By the way, the reason they chose such a heavy piece? Walang Sugat at the CCP was sold out.
 
Also, residents of the Department of Pathology were apparently benign enough that afternoon to be at the theater as well. Fancy seeing you there.

I left the theater at around 5:30PM (no, I still wasn't ready to meet Eugene Domingo in person). Decided that a taxi would be the fastest with 2.5 hours left before my next show, so I got one there and then on the rolling terrain of E. Rodriguez Avenue. 

"Traffic's everywhere," the driver told me. But then that's what all drivers are bound to tell you during peak transit hours. And indeed, traffic was hell along the entire stretch of Gilmore Avenue. At that time, it was apparent I was in for a long ride. 

So I decided to cut it short. I got off at Gilmore Avenue-Aurora Boulevard and took the LRT 2. Gilmore station has to be best station I've been on yet. And because of this, I finally stepped foot inside Gateway Mall after more than three years of living in Manila. Took the MRT from EDSA to Buendia Avenue. A guy had a badminton racket sticking out of his bag, which made me realize I haven't played since last year. Anyway, I had a quick dinner some place at the corner of EDSA and Buendia, and then had my first jeepney ride along the latter.   

And that, in a (humongous) nutshell, was how I transported myself between the two theaters.

Now, on Forbidden Broadway.

Best act of the night had to be Liesl Batucan as drug-addicted Liza Minelli.

The Sondheim segment! ("Into the Words").

Lorenz Martinez as Mandy Patinkin!

Fiddler on the Roof! ("Ambition").

War of the Anitas!

And for a nightcap, here's one from a favorite Sondheim song: "But if life were made of moments, then you'd never know you had one."

The cast of Forbidden Broadway in the Les Miserables segment (L-R): Lorenz Martinez, Caisa Borromeo, Liesl Batucan, and OJ Mariano. Photo from elysplanet.com

Monday, August 27, 2012

PETA's Bona: A Study on Devotion

Some twelve kilometers northeast of the Cultural Center of the Philippines, where Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera will be haunting audiences with a falling chandelier for the next seven weeks, a scaled-down yet more corporeal horror is taking place.

That horror involves only a man stripped to his underwear, the woman whom he treats as his maid, and a boiling kettle of water. "Sige, paliguan mo na ako," the man says to her. Bathe me. And so she does, dousing his bare skin with the water in two splashes. The effect is instantly chilling: He falls to the ground writhing in a most visible form of excruciation, she bathes him with pent-up anger and all the cuss words her lips can muster. "Hayop ka!" Animal!

Whether the man ends up as disfigured as Lord Webber's masked phantom is left to the imagination. But the woman, it must be stressed, is neither musical genius nor malevolent phantasm.

She is Bona, the titular character in Philippine Educational Theater Association's (PETA) 45th Season opener, a modernized take on the Lino Brocka film that brought the venerable actress Nora Aunor, then in her late twenties, all the way to the 1981 Cannes Film Festival. But whereas Brocka's Bona is a student hailing from a middle-class family, in this stage adaptation by Layeta Bucoy (with additional scenes by Phil Noble), she has transformed into a single, middle-aged call-center agent. The slums have given way to an ordinary household and a condo unit with an elaborately tiled bathtub equipped with a functioning faucet. 

 
Eugene Domingo as "Bona." 

That said, perhaps the best way to approach PETA's "Bona" (directed by Soxie Topacio) is to have no background whatsoever on the film. At the very least, forget everything one has heard or seen of Aunor's incomparable acting prowess or Brocka's indelible directorial imprint on the local film industry. Call centers weren't so popular in the Philippines back then, to begin with.

The play opens with Bona, devotee of Quiapo's Black Nazarene, praying to a miniature version of the image on a homemade altar whose drawer doubles as a piggy bank. This is a woman who prays with the untainted sincerity of a child. But she also runs an online fortune-telling business, which is ironic, and teaches English to Koreans via her computer. She is the breadwinner - her nephew Bingo depends on her, but also the child's mother (her sister) Binky, who flits from one boyfriend to another. Her best friend Baldy runs to her in times of financial shortage, but at least his neediness is outweighed by more genuine traits such as honesty (as every best friend is wont to possess). Such is Bona's colorful life.

Along comes Gino, contestant of TV talent search "Star of Tomorrow." He promised his dying mother he would become an artista. Bona, introduced to the show by Baldy and his boyfriend Raf, becomes inexplicably drawn to him. She spearheads his fan club "Gino's Angels," and when he gets eliminated from the show and beaten up in a bar, brings him home out of pity. Just a helpful adoring fan playing hero of a lifetime. The natural thing to do, if there's such a thing, is to have Gino wake up in the morning sober and less bruised, get an autograph and perhaps a photo, then say farewell, 'til we meet again.

But what transpires is a story that so absurdly portrays human downfall and destruction, it's quite tempting to label it 'Shakespearean'. In retrospect, "Bona" feels like two polar halves joined together by one woman's tragic fall in life. Act I ends with Bona, internally swelling with love for the man, finishing off Gino's drunken, dissonant take on "The Greatest Love of All"; Act II ends with the boiling water scene. The first act, chock-full of laughs and romances; the second, a darker, grittier depiction of what comes after.

Joey Paras as "Baldy" (left) and Domingo.

Bona is played by Eugene Domingo - and potential viewers, be warned: This is hardly usual Eugene fare. Last year, in "Ang Babae sa Septic Tank," the Cinemalaya film that won her the festival's Best Actress award, Domingo also took a turn for the unexpected, playing a hard-to-reach diva version of herself. This is also not the work that's most likely to propel her to immortality - that would be "Kimmy Dora."

But fear not, Domingo delivers by all means. Again, the temptation is there - to use 'tour de force' in this sentence - but hers really is a carefully constructed performance, that no trace of celebrity remains once she commands the stage. Here, she becomes the character - not a Go Donghae twin, but pure and palpable Bona. She's hilarious (her comedic skills should be unquestionable), but with every laugh comes the strain of a bored, fragile middle-class life. In the pivotal Act II climax, even as she boils the water with her back turned to the audience, we feel a kind of repressed evil slowly clouding the air. It's a rare skill in the theater nowadays - the ability to build up terror through silence without falling flat midway and settling for the expected.

Domingo, however, is only one half of the pair that sustains the play's trajectory. Enter Edgar Allan Guzman, who won last year's Cinemalaya Best Actor trophy for "Ligo Na U, Lapit Na Me." Here and now, he should be awarded 'best fit for a role'. How he effortlessly conveys celebrity search contestant and user/know-nothing/desperate second-rate actor without contorting his face and throwing his arms to the air to make himself 'big' must be a heaven-sent skill.  

In truth, without Guzman, Domingo wouldn't be as successful in her role. Guzman feeds Domingo with the kind of awkwardness needed to highlight the age gap, the kind of frustration to trigger her climactic act of fury, the kind of helplessness that her Bona chooses to turn a blind eye to whenever his Gino rats on about Gino and Gino alone. Mutualism, it's called in science, a give-and-take relationship which is also evidently at work between Domingo and the rest of the supporting cast. 

Joey Paras as Baldy is especially winning (his joy over discovering that there exists a sleeveless version of the Gino's Angels shirt is priceless). Applause must more so be accorded to Juliene Mendoza, who, as the condo landlord infatuated with Bona, delivers all the cheesy pick-up lines with a most natural flair, he makes cheese seem the best weapon to wooing a woman. Gabs Santos is a very believable straight-acting gay, BJ Forbes surprises with a nuanced, toned-down turn as Bingo, and Olive Nieto voraciously attacks Binky as if the role were Blanche DuBois (it's not). "Tingnan mo nga ang sarili mo ate, may pinagkaiba pa ba tayo?" she tearfully spits at an equally tearful Bona, bereft of everything late in the second act.

 Domingo and Edgar Allan Guzman as "Gino" (right).

At the end of this two-and-a-half-hour play, one leaves the theater with a heavy, prodding feeling, as if the hilarity of the first act had entirely dissipated. That's because "Bona" fearlessly asks more questions from its audience than it allows its audience to do unto it.

Consider, for example, how the mother figure is here dissected three-ways. First, in the form of Gino's mother, whose death (involving the ensaymada that would later become staple Gino's Angels giveaway) leaves him hungry for fame and celebrity. Second, as a martyr - Bona serving Gino his breakfast, preparing his baths, scavenging for money while her 'son' gambles and sleeps with a childhood sweetheart (Anna Luna, strikingly naive). And just before the lights dim at the end of the play, a twisted take on Michelangelo's Pieta - Gino, burnt and unconscious on the floor; Bona, standing over him. "P*tang ina mo!" she screams at his body.

Now what does that make of the caring and loving mother? She does have cougarly sex with him (to fireworks and blooming roses projected on the overhead screen - excellent technical decision, by the way, if not somewhat stereotypical).

Which begs an even bigger question: Is Bona ever truly in love with Gino? What, for instance, is the mysterious force that leads the woman to surrender P15,000 just so a press conference can be staged for him, care of his talent managerial team (a trio portrayed with much welcome, if sometimes uneven camp by Jef-Henson Dee, Dudz Terana, and Juvenir Tabor, who manages to turn a stumble with his lines into cause for laughter)?

It starts off as pity, that much is clear, but just how far can pity go before it unknowingly transcends boundaries and turns to obsession? For sure, it's no longer pity that drives Bona to mortgage the family home just so she can finance Gino's launching film (or "lunching" as the boy would have it, to comedic effect). And even that is not spared an inquisition: Why on earth would she, the breadwinner and lone stronghold of sanity in her family, do that? Pretend it's not a plot hole, a directorial or actorly misstep, and it proves a fairly difficult thought to wrap one's head around.

In "Devotion," the 2004 Palanca Award winner for Essay in English by Wilfredo Pascual, Jr., the author tackles one man's fascination with Nora Aunor and the times he met her in person. Backstage, after a concert, he recalls, Aunor was surrounded by adoring fans, as if she had become the image of a saint enshrined in a grotto by her cult. In "Bona," Domingo plays an Aunor role, but this time, she is the devotee. It must be safe to assume that at any point in Act II preceding its climax, the temptation for Bona to replace the Black Nazarene with a framed photograph of Gino must have been laborious to resist. 

So perhaps devotion is the answer to everything. That in this age where celebrities sometimes find themselves elevated to the level of saints, the lines between fandom and obsession, and obsession and devotion, can just so easily be blurred. Here in the world of PETA's "Bona," even the sanest, most rational person can fall victim to this kind of societal blindness and inflict upon oneself not just corporeal damage, but tears and wounds of the soul.    

The final scene plays out Bona's "interview" with celebrity host Boy Abunda. How surreal it must be for the woman to finally be the star herself. Boy asks her the difference between alipin, servant, and fan. "A servant is paid with money; a fan is paid with a photo, an autograph, a smile," she says. Only, she certainly gets paid more than just that.

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Bona runs at the PETA Theater, off E. Rodriguez Avenue, Quezon City until September 23. Visit PETA's website and ticketworld.com.ph for show dates and tickets. This review is based on the matinee performance of August 25. All photos in this post were taken by Jory Rivera for BroadwayWorld.com - Philippines. 

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Liaisons and Wannabe


The view from where I spent Saturday night, courtesy of pharmaceutical company Pfizer. "It's like being in the villa of Madame Armfeldt," my brother would say. Not exactly great imagery - Angela Lansbury and her huge eyes would pop up before my mind's eye in an instant. 

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The Southwest Monsoon had one hellish bout of dysmenorrhea two weeks ago. Three days of classes got cancelled. What's left of the last of three weeks of Cardio: the practical exams on Monday, then the 200-item gigantic exam on Friday. That was three entire days of lectures turned into self-study sessions. That, and struggling against the feeling of "There are homeless people out there, but you can't do anything about it because you have to study for this exam." Ah well, as the fellow-in-charge told us (through text message), "be mature, man up, and study." And if the entire section of cardiology had been offering eggs to Sta. Clara for the longest time, then by Jove, it worked.

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I'm probably one of the very few who never went all giddy over the Olympics. I woke up one fine morning and didn't even know the Games had opened. It's only my aunt who kept score of China's medal tally, comparing it to the US every few days. I don't know if she cried in her sleep when Mother China finally fell to second place for good. 

The only part of this year's Olympics that I saw and felt passionate about was the closing ceremony performance of the Spice Girls. I was in kindergarten the year they first conquered the charts. As a kid, I knew the lyrics to Stop, 2 Become 1, Wannabe, Too Much, and Say You'll Be There by heart. That moment in the video when the announcer says, "It's the arrival of the Spice Girls!" actually gave me goosebumps, the years of wild abandon(?) finally coming back to me. (Now this sounds like a Jim Steinman song.)

P.S. Stop = best Spice Girls song of all time. Rant away now. Also, that up there's not the best video in YouTube, but blogger's acting up. 

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Why did it take me such a long time to see Memento, Requiem for a Dream, Mysterious Skin, and The Squid and the Whale?!

Saturday, August 4, 2012

An Enemy of PETA

I ate crocodile claw for dinner. Now I feel like a sinner. For all I know, I'd willingly hand myself over to PETA and be burned at the stake. If you've read this blog for quite some time, you'd know crocodiles are one of my most favorite animals in the world (along with rhinos and hippos and snakes and the capybara and the octopus). Shit, all this talk is making me feel sick. Maybe it's the crocodile, or whatever's left of the claw, talking.

But what the hell. It was my aunt's birthday dinner. You can't exactly blame her: She's not so young anymore (Patti LuPone's only a couple of years older than her), and she's as Chinese as Chinese can be. Yes, that includes siding with the motherland when it comes to Scarborough and Panatag debates, and rooting for the Chinese Olympians to conquer London by the end of the month. So crocodile claw is probably no more than just exotic fare for her, one that should be had during monumental celebrations. I'm not the least bit surprised. Last year, we had ostrich. And the year before, turtle soup, complete with carapace.

I wonder if next year, we can have some leopard stew or roasted leg of gnu.

We only have a week left for the cardiology module. The ginormous 200-item exam's next Friday. At this morning's preceptorials at the PGH Pediatrics ER, I saw my first TOF baby. The weather has been wild the past week. Based on satellite images, next week should bring an even wilder storm. Memries/ Like the corners of my mind/ Misty water-colored memries...

Since we are being oh-so-Chinese, look what I found in the suki DVD store last June.