Celebration: An Anthology to Commemorate the 50th Anniversary of the Silliman University National Writers Workshop Sands and Coral, 2011-2013
Silliman University, 2013
This is sad because he was such a joyous hoot in everything he did, including his pandemic Instagram posts. Him sparring with Megan Mulally’s Karen Walker in Will & Grace was a constant delight.
I’ve been bingeing Sharon Cuneta’s slate of early 1980s movies, all the way from Dear Heart [1981] and through Bituing Walang Ningning [1985]. Because I realized I’ve never really “seen” them, and I want to see if I can do a video essay on them, using Rolando Tolentino’s framework of her as the iconic “eternal virgin.” I came of age in the 1990s, but I grew up in the 1980s, so I never really got to know these films well beyond the cursory viewing. [I realized, for example, that I’ve never really seen Bituing Walang Ningning in its entirety, and I’ve only seen snippets of it, particularly the famous “You're nothing but a second rate, trying hard copycat” scene.] It’s difficult to have a complete grasp of your own film culture when most of these titles were inaccessible for so long, or if accessible, could only be seen in grainy, faded copies — which forfeits deeper appreciation. Only now, with current efforts at restoration, can they really be properly assessed and processed, at least to a greater degree.
The films are entertaining as far as mass appeal goes, and really lay bare 1980s mores — but my God, I cannot with the toxic masculinity!
The worse offender has got to be Gabby Concepcion’s Lito Salazar in Dapat Ka Bang Mahalin? (1984), a spoiled, philandering, exasperating brat of a man who is suddenly given an unearned redemption twist in the last ten minutes of the film, with Sharon’s Myrna Sanchez just willingly taking him back just because he fathered her children. My favorite remains Miguel Rodriguez’s Bullet Crisologo in To Love Again (1983), whose just easy-going and self-assured, minus the toxic masculinity we usually find in Danny Zialcita’s movies. Christopher De Leon’s Nico Escobar in Bituing Walang Ningning is nice enough, but why can’t his manhood abide with a successful woman? It’s the same problem that plagues Gabby Concepcion’s Arnold Zaragoza in Sa Hirap at Ginhawa (1984), whose manly pride mandates complete and subservient financial dependence of his new wife, come what may — although as a film, it coheres: probably the best in the Gabby and Sharon tandem of the 1980s. And my God, Eddie Rodriguez’s emasculated Roman Estrella in Bukas Luluhod ang mga Tala (1984) is something else.
Also, crime as a plot device in these films [a kidnapping, a murder, an attempted rape, a drug bust, etc.] is such a stretch — but I wonder what that says about the social condition of the 1980s it reflects?
Christopher de Leon, Cherie Gil, and Sharon Cuneta in Bituing Walang Ningning
Every time I love a film from the Second Golden Age of Philippine Cinema [roughly the 1970s to the early 1980s], Sandy Andolong seems to be in it. I love her. Her beautiful face perfectly encapsulates the era. And her acting has always been superb and well-modulated, although she remains underrated compared to her peers of that era, which include Charo Santos, Nora Aunor, Rio Locsin, Amy Austria, Vilma Santos, Hilda Koronel, Laurice Guillen, Alma Moreno, Gina Alajar, Lorna Tolentino, and Cheri Gil. She’s exceptional in Moral and Oro Plata Mata, and a scene stealer in almost everything else she was in [even her cameo in Bad Bananas sa Puting Tabing].
This is why I’m grateful for the current spate of restoring our film heritage, which we were on the verge of losing forever — thanks mostly to ABS-CBN Film Restoration and the efforts of Mike de Leon and other bodies. Now we can truly appreciate the lushness of our cinematic storytelling [and the faces of our movie stars] which for so long remained in the shadows of faded print, mold-eaten copies, and low fidelity bootleg. [That this government endangered that effort by shutting down ABS-CBN is one of biggest crimes against our cultural patrimony.]
5:02 AM |
Nicole Kidman Singing Much-Needed Anxiety Balm for the Soul
I'm anxious as hell for America as it votes for its life. Nicole Kidman singing "Dream A Little Dream" for the title sequence of HBO's The Undoing is the anxiety balm I never thought I'd be happy to have.
There's a scene in Guy Hamilton's very inventive 1982 adaptation of Agatha Christie's Evil Under the Sun that made me a Diana Rigg fan forever: she plays a heartless, calculating, and cuckolding actress who would ultimately serve as the murder mystery's requisite inciting incident, and it would have been easy to dislike her immensely—heck, all the characters in the story want to murder her—were it not for one thing: she deploys charm that overwhelms mountains. In this scene in a hotel lobby overlooking the Adriatic Sea, she willfully and glamorously glides into the center of everyone's attention as someone plays the piano, singing Cole Porter's "You're the Top" with the gusto of a true performer and the poison of a vamp with an overwhelming desire to burn all bridges come what may. She uses the lyrics of the song to unleash all sorts of venom directed at specific people—but her glow is so unmistakable that those same people, knowing there is no antidote to her stings, nonetheless cannot help but applaud her. I saw that scene years ago, and I was like, "This woman can do anything. You may want to strangle her, but you also want to kowtow before her." That double-edged appeal has always been at the root of my fawning admiration for Dame Diana—she unleashed that power in everything from On Her Majesty's Secret Service to The Avengers to Game of Thrones. In the latter, for example, you knew her Olenna Tyrell was manipulative and corrupted by her privilege and power—but you also loved her. To be able to limn these contradictions and make meaty roles out of them was her mark. I love Dianna RIgg, present tense, and she will be missed.
I honestly didn't expect the many comic moments in Jerrold Tarrog's Heneral Luna (2015), but the conceit the director takes for this historiographic film is a breath of fresh air in the usually textbookish veneration we give cinematic depictions of historical figures. Marilou Diaz-Abaya's José Rizal (1998), of course, is the greatest example of this genre and its pitfalls -- beautifully shot, exquisitely produced, finely-acted, quite well-meaning and earnest, and dull. The only relative triumphs from that era of moviemaking of this type had been Raymond Red's double whammy of Bayani (1992) and Sakay (1993), and perhaps Tikoy Aguiluz's Rizal sa Dapitan (1997). Needless to say, I prefer to forget the very existence of Carlo J. Caparas' Tirad Pass: The Story of Gen. Gregorio del Pilar (1997) -- but there you go.
Lately, we've had a spate of historical biographies invading our cinemas that gave us the idea that perhaps the historical is back in vogue. Consider Mark Meily's El Presidente (2012) and Enzo Williams's Bonifacio: Ang Unang Pangulo (2014) -- but they haven't exactly signalled a decisive return for a difficult genre to engage in, simply because, as singular pieces of filmmaking, both were utter failures -- one of vision, and the other of execution. When we first heard of Heneral Luna in a spate of marketing that suddenly appeared a few months ago, it did nothing to dispel the quickly sinking idea that perhaps the historical biography was one genre of Filipino film that was worth exploring. Nobody seemed to know how to do it right. Then again, it is a tricky genre to succeed well in film: (1) the history either renders the drama flat -- a problem of a screenplay unable to provide new pulse to the well-known textbook story, or (2) the demands of rendering the specific historical era simply becomes overwhelmed by the tidal wave of contemporary details that revoke a believable rendering of the past -- a problem of production design, where all the clothes usually look too new.
Heneral Luna survives the first test with a screenplay that's deft and poetic. It does not exactly fare well with the second -- but only by the severest nitpicking. There is a visionary power to the film, however, that makes its weaknesses seem marginal. And there are weaknesses: some pacing issues, the curiously unremarkable acting by an otherwise formidable cast of supporting actors, and, well, the existence of clothes [costumes!] that look too new.
Nonetheless, the film succeeds despite these, and succeeds with the ferocity of its titular character -- a tragic hero of the Philippine Revolution, a military genius opposed to the colonisation of the Philippines by America. Our history books tell us about the temper and the arrogance of General Antonio Luna, which perhaps cost him his life -- and the film does not shy away from that depiction: John Arcilla's military general is tempestuous and bombastic.
And funny.
It is this levity that surprises me the most -- and we had no idea we needed this subterfuge of humor to underscore the wriggly realities of the Philippine-American War.
I like the movie very much. And I love its carefully staged small moments more than the big scenes of political intrigues. (Consider that carefully choreographed meeting of the various personas of the Aguinaldo government at the very beginning of the film and the way the camera takes in the weight of the heated conversation and at the same time introduces us to the key players of this story -- Emilio Aguinaldo, Antonio Luna, Apolinario Mabini, Felipe Buencamino, Pedro Paterno. Consider also the audaciously staged one-take sequence where Luna reconnects with his younger past, and shows us the stages of his growth to become the military leader of the new Republic. Consider the juxtaposition of a guitar solo and the decision for betrayal.) It is, over all, a film that has to be congratulated for being so assured. Above all, it must be congratulated for containing a singular occasion for acting bravura: this is a document of a very powerful performance by John Arcilla, in a star-turn that remains deeply a character actor's shining moment.
The film is wickedly funny, poking fun at things where we least expect them. And yet it is also ultimately sad, the way it distills for us the smallness of our vision as a people, which is our perhaps our greatest frailty. (Was Nick Joaquin right after all?) The movie tells us, in the end, that the greatest enemy of the Filipino is himself. We looked at the steady stream of betrayals we constantly see by the people we elect into government, and we realise that not much has changed a hundred years hence.
1:19 PM |
Old Cat, Pimp With Swag, Brother Among Puppets
Junix Inocian, with Audie Gemora in the bottom photo, during his Repertory Philippines days.
(Photos courtesy of Luna Griño-Inocian)
To be able to be different characters of vastly different lives is the lure for many thespians. Junix Inocian has proven to be in the first rank of those who have heeded and succumbed to this temptation—and the world has the better for it. With his untimely passing this week, the world has also lost a great light in theatre, in film, in television. For many of us, we have also lost a great friend.
I don’t know how I came to know Junix Inocian, only that one day we just did. Perhaps being both Silliman University alumni helped. But I have always been an avid fan of the theatre, and one of my best remembered pleasures in following this particular scene was actually knowing that one of the stalwarts of Miss Saigon, the original cast that dominated London when it opened at Theatre Royal in Drury Lane in 1989, was a Sillimanian. For a child enamored by musicals, that seemed like a beacon: someone from Dumaguete made it all the way to London’s West End. Perhaps one’s wildest dreams are reachable, after all, even with the chasms of geography one has to overcome. Junix was dream personified. He deserved the loftiness of that ideal. Primarily because, he wasn’t just a talented person, he was also an extremely good human being.
Rufino Duran Inocian Jr. starred in various plays such as Miss Saigon, Cats, Fiddler on the Roof, and the movie version of the Swedish crime novel Tatuerad Torso. On television, he starred in the series Sinbad which aired over at Sky in the United Kingdom.
But he started his acting career in Silliman where he appeared in a number of plays during the so-called Golden Years of Dumaguete Theatre in the 1970s. His beginnings in theatre was sparked by a curiosity that came over him one day when he happened to pass by the Theatre Department on his way to the Silliman library. The drama group was rehearsing, and mesmerized by what he saw, he stopped to watch as the actors took charge of the mock stage. At the center was the entrancing figure of writer Rowena Tiempo (now Torrevillas), one of the leads of the play being rehearsed that day. He joined the theatre group quickly the very next day, and soon shifted to a major in Theatre Arts.
That soon led to a lead role in a production of Fiddler on the Roof, the first and only musical directed by Prof. Amiel Leonardia, with musical direction by Miriam Palmore. The production was for the Luce Auditorium in 1974, the year it was inaugurated. It was a big production that took 18 weeks of rehearsals and preparation, with a cast that brimmed with talent—Mr. Inocian as Teyve, Evelyn Aldecoa (who would direct the 1995 production of the same play) as Golde, and Ephraim Bejar as the Constable, among others.
Upon obtaining his degree in Theatre Arts, he proceeded to take further studies at the University of Michigan where he obtained a degree in Acting in 1978. He trained with Mary Hutchinson, an acting coach from Syracuse University, New York, and with Paul Palmore, an acting coach from the University of Michigan—both prominent figures in Dumaguete theatre scene.
Subsequent to his studies in the U.S., Junix joined Repertory Philippines where he starred in at least sixty productions. His stage appearances include leading roles in Little Shop of Horrors as Audrey 2, Mass Appeal as Father Tim Farley, Man of La Mancha as Sancho, The Government Inspector as the Mayor, The Pirates of Penzance as Major-General Stanley, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum as Pseudolus, Fiddler on the Roof (again) as Tevye, Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street as Sweeney Todd, and Children of a Lesser God as James Leeds.
On television, Junix also appeared in various shows such as in Batibot, the Filipino version of Sesame Street, where he was the much-beloved Kuya Mario, friend to all kids and to puppets Pong Pagong and Kiko Matsing; Sitak ni Jack, a top-rated sitcom; and the show A Dangerous Life, a six-hour docu-drama series based on the EDSA People Power Revolution. He also starred in movies such as in Silk and Greed.
Junix joined the original cast of the play Miss Saigon where, from 1992 to 1994, he played the lead role of The Engineer, the half-Vietnamese half-French pimp with swaggr and big dreams. Some time after playing the role of Old Deuteronomy in the play Cats, the one who dreams of going to the Heavenly Layer, at the New London Theatre, Junix returned to Miss Saigon.
His son Jon Michael Inocian once wrote of his father in Handulantaw: “Now I am not saying this just because he is my father, but he is the best actor in the world! I know this for a fact because I have shared the stage with him twice: once as a little baby in Fiddler on the Roof, and most recently in Jekyll and Hyde. Growing up I would always hear stories of how much fun it is to work with him and how he would be one of the kings of ‘playtime’ during shows. I have come to realize that my Titos and Titas were not exaggerating! But laughter and fun aside, Dad is definitely a pro. Even with all the years of experiences he’s had onstage, you can see that he loves his craft—rehearsing despite jet lag, running lines with me while waiting for food and giving me little notes for improvement.”
His passing is a shock to many of his friends in theatre, from Lea Salonga to his ex-wofe and manager Luna Griño-Inocian. Legendary Miss Saigon, Cats, Phantom of the Opera, and Les Miserable producer Cameron Macintosh issued this statement on his passing: “The sudden shock of Junix's premature departure from us is not just because we have lost a wonderfully talented actor but also because of his great spirit. He was truly a leading man in being both the leading actor and the father of the company for several of my productions. Ever since I first met Junix in 1988 in Manila there was no doubt that he was special. It is a great credit to his country that he became the first Asian actor to play the role of the Engineer in Miss Saigon and through his considerable talent he carved himself a significant career in the British Theatre as well as in the Philippines. We will all miss him hugely and I consider it a great privilege to have known him . Junix leaves us all with many happy memories it is just so sad that he has gone to the heavy side layer far too soon. God bless you, Junix. With much love, Cameron.”
In behalf of the Cultural Center of the Philippines, its Artistic Director Chris Millado also noted Philippine theatre’s significant loss: “The CCP joins the theater community in mourning the passing of an exceptional stage actor Junix Inocian. Junix’s musical theater prowess brought brilliance and bravado to several productions at the Silliman University, Repertory Philippines, the Cultural Centre of the Philippines and the international stages in West End and Europe. Friends and family fondly remember his easy demeanour on and offstage. We join everyone in celebrating your life and art, Mr. Inocian, and yes, in ‘goodnighting’ to you.”
And goodnighting to you, too, Junix.
Junix Inocian with fellow cast members of The Fantasticks in Silliman University in the 1970s.
(Photo courtesy of Laurie Raymundo)
Junix Inocian as Kuya Mario (upper left) with fellow cast members of Batibot.
I was watching Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound [1945] a few hours ago, his much-derided early work that nevertheless contains traces of themes and motifs that would become full-blown devices in North by Northwest (the pursuit of winged contraptions!), Vertigo and Notorious (the switching of identities!), Psycho (the full psychological accounting!), and Marnie (the splurging of psychoanalysis!). Plus, it has the beautiful Ingrid Bergman, too, a movie star I have always worshipped since I discovered her in high school. (High school! That was how far back I knew about Ingrid Bergman!) But all that did not matter to me as this one realization quickly dawned: Gregory Peck, this young Gregory Peck of the sad eyes and the lean frame. That's him. That's the guy of my dreams. Oh dear God. I'm in love with a dead man's shadow.
4:53 AM |
Leslie Jordan, 1955-2022
