Philippine Speculative Fiction 9 Read online

  Noladi will mark the first time interest has been shown in any artistic work of any medium belonging to one of the Mythic Peoples.

  “Ito na ata ang aking masterpiece (This may be my masterpiece),” Bulan said of the production, which took over five years to piece together. “I think every play I did before this one was just a training ground. If I suddenly had to retire from theater after this, I think masaya na ako (I would be happy).”

  Runs like clockwork

  LIKE SOMETHING STRAIGHT out of a movie, the inspiration for adapting Noladi had been hanging over the 47-year-old director like a fine cobweb since he was 16. Bulan recounted dreaming of wading through a vast lake and encountering a humongous white horse standing in the water. The horse promptly vanished when he approached, but Bulan said, “it’s been galloping through my mind ever since, as if I’d really been bewitched by a Tikbalang.”

  Noladi’s 17 chapters revolve around the central character Noladi, a female Tikbalang who unknowingly humiliates the sea god Haik by leading him astray from his daily duties and driving him insane, the way she would an ordinary human being. Cursed with humanity but having retained every ounce of her cunning, Noladi goes on a rollicking journey—rivalling that of Don Quixote in both scale and comedy—to the far ends of the archipelago on a quest to regain her true form. Along the way, she accidentally starts wars, brings down kingdoms, and incurs the wrath of several goddesses and Diwata jealous of her beauty and envious of a long train of pining mortal suitors.

  The epic is traditionally performed when the sun is out and there is rain—the perfect condition for a Tikbalang wedding. Though such showers are rare and quick, the epic is chanted in its entirety. The feat may sound impossible until one remembers that time runs differently for mythics.

  What also seemed impossible until now was Bulan’s ability to condense two or three chapters into one show, depending on individual length. Each show in the production’s three-month run consists of two or three episodes, to be continued the following night. Decidedly ambitious, but no less is expected from the man who retold the Hinilawod as a gang war story set in Cebu and Manila in five lengthy acts.

  This is not all. In an act that will make this stage play closer to a movie than anything that has gone before it, Bulan has confirmed that—with the graciousness of the Duwende (dwarves) working behind the scenes—the main stage at the CCP will become deeper than ever before. This will allow for scenes taking place upon and within actual seas, forests, and mountains.

  The play’s demanding requirements, however, do not appear to be taking a toll on the production crew, who keep things running like clockwork, Bulan divulged.

  “There are a thousand and one things I would not have been able to achieve had I stuck to human-made props,” said Bulan of the set. “Kahit gaano pang ka-elaborate yung design, parang yung mga kay Ely (No matter how elaborate the design, like those of Ely’s), humans can only make imperfect copies of things. This is the closest we’re going to get to reality—sure, there may be more dangers, but that is exactly where the thrill lies!

  “Maybe the walkout of Ely and the old crew was one of the better things that happened to this production,” Bulan concluded, referring to former Production Head and some-time best friend, Elysia Bernardino.

  “Nasa aming bahay ang Ama kong sinusumpong, kaya’t ako na lang daw muna ang bahala sa set ngayong gabi (Father’s bad mood has left me in charge of the set tonight),” said a young Duwende, who refused to give her name. “Kung nandito si Ama, sasabihin niya sa iyo na walang kabutihang mapapala sa dulang ito—ngunit para sa akin, nasisiyahan ako na sa wakas, may pagkakataon ang tao na intindihin ang buhay ng isang hiwaga gaya nang Tikbalang. Baka sa susunod, epiko naman ng Duwende ang igaganap (My father would say no good will come of this play—but I am happy that humans will get to understand the life of a mythic like the Tikbalang. Maybe next time, a Duwende epic will be staged).”

  Bulan also had fool-proof seatbelts installed into each and every seat in the theater, just in case any of the guests grow enamoured and wish to follow for eternity any of the glamor-coated Tikbalang who make up the majority of the cast.

  Other additions include having Diwata (fairies) soundproof the entire theater, and a dozen balete trees each bearing Kapre (tree giants) replanted, two to each entrance around the complex—just in case the protesters storm the performance. Electric fans and haggard but dutiful shifts of maintenance crew have been stationed near the trees to ward off the potent smell of Kapre cigars and keep the sidewalk clear of rising black ash mounds.

  “Oo, nakakabato itong ginagawa namin (Yes, this is boring),” said one of the hulking Kapre guarding the main entrance. “Pero higit pa sa sapat ang ipinangakong bayad ni Bulan (But Bulan’s promised salary more than makes up for it).”

  He would not reveal what the payment was, however, preferring to leer infuriatingly and tip ash onto the concrete when pressed further. A timid maintenance woman standing next to the tree hurriedly swept the ash, refusing to do so much as look at this reporter, let alone spare a comment.

  Dancing to his tune

  MADIRAWEN, A TIKBALANG whose bamboo grove can be found in a forest in Tarlac, will be playing the titular role—both the human and Tikbalang versions.

  Those who have never experienced Tikbalang glamor, such as myself, will no doubt have a hard time remembering that Madirawen’s glowing brown skin, chocolate eyes, glossy black hair, and hourglass figure is just that—glamor. Her breathtaking looks, considered the paragon of Malay beauty these days, makes the most gorgeous of local TV stars seem dowdy; I don’t want to think about how average-looking women appear next to her.

  Two hours before her stunning appearance at the bottom of the staircase with Bulan, Madirawen agreed to sit down for an interview with The Archipelago Daily. Out of courtesy, she had already swapped her horsey head for her human countenance.

  “Mahirap makisabay kay Direk (It’s hard keeping up with Director Bulan),” said Madirawen. “Dati-rati, iniiba ko yung mukha ko araw-araw—madalas, isang starlet o contestant ng isang beauty pageant, ‘di ko matandaan ang kanilang mga pangalan. Ngunit, mabuti na lang Tikbalang ako, kayang-kaya ko magpalit ng anyo. (I had different forms every rehearsal, usually some starlet or beauty pageant contestant whose names I forget. But luckily, being a Tikbalang, changing forms is not a problem).

  “Hindi kukulang sa lubos na kahusayan ang hinihiling ni Direk sa buong produksyon (Direk demands perfection from the entire production),” she added. “Na hindi naman kakayanin ng tao—dahil dito, umalis ang karamihan sa nakaraang cast at crew. Ngunit hindi iyon sumagabal kay Direk (Humans can’t deliver perfection, so many of the previous members left. But that did not stop Direk).”

  The change of cast began when Cheryl Gazmen of Primetime Tonight fame and Samson Marquez (The Unbearable Brightness of Seeing (2010), Hara-kiri (2012)), dropped out of their roles as Noladi and seventh suitor Datu Dalang, respectively; the former due to a difficult pregnancy and the latter, creative differences.

  After this, Bulan suspended rehearsals and travelled to the vast northern fields of Pampanga and Tarlac—for what purpose, no one knew at the time. Madirawen shared that he roamed those same fields like a madman for a month, often seen speaking to horses. It was in such a state that he chanced upon her in her solitary bamboo grove, she said. Strangely enough, he bowed and asked her to dance with him.

  When pressed as to how Bulan persuaded her to accept the part, Madirawen put on an enigmatic smile. “Sinabi sa akin ni Direk na kailangan may mga sinisikreto ang isang aktres. Hindi ako professional na aktres, pero gusto kong isipin na totoo pa rin ito para sa akin. Isang malaking dangal para sa akin na gaganapin ko ang isang napaka-importanteng nilalang sa kasaysayan ng mga Tikbalang (Direk told me actresses need secrets. I am not a professional, but I would like to think that this applies to me, too. It is an honor just playing an important figure in Tikbalang history).”

  An ounce of humanity

  VERY FEW PEOPLE in the crew
and in the human cast of characters will actually be portrayed by humans—among whom numbers Nathan Quiroz, chiselled young clothing model, lead singer of alt-rock band Pizza Sushi, and son of Malacañang’s premier folklorist and Secretary for the Department of Mythic Affairs, Dr. Nadia Pilapil-Quiroz.

  His uncle, internationally-renowned composer Aldrin Quizon Quiroz (who could not be reached for comment as of press time), wrote the music and lyrics for Noladi.

  A little trivia: Quiroz and his mother are descended from Zenaida Pilapil, the purported mangkukulam (witch) who made a deal with the Mythic Tribunal for aid against the Spanish in 1897, thus making them more visible to humans. Despite this one-time partnership, many people still fear and misunderstand the mythics, the traditional enemies—some would say hunters—of humans. Many mythics, in turn, have retreated into their respective homes in favor of their old way of life.

  Though these little details were not lost on Quiroz, he takes a rather unique attitude when it comes to mythics—one that complements that of his rumored inamorato, Bulan.

  “Thanks to Mama’s work, fascinated na ako sa Tikbalang at iba pang mga hiwaga noong bata pa ako (I was already fascinated with mythic beings as a kid),” said Quiroz, who will bring to life Prinsipe Makisig, the first of Noladi’s ten suitors. “Pero she never let me speak to her clients. Hindi ko ma-pass up yung opportunity na ‘to para maka-get to know ng kahit isang Tikbalang. (I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get to know even just one Tikbalang).

  “Isang katutak na energy drink at good night’s sleep lang ang katapat niyan (All you need are energy drinks and a good night’s sleep),” was the 24-year-old’s answer to whether or not the production was fatiguing to an inhumane degree. “Oo, sobrang nakakapagod siya, pero anong trabaho ang hindi ganoon (It’s tiring, but what job isn’t)?”

  When asked what it was like working with mythics, Quiroz had this to say, “Sobrang layo sa depiction nila sa mga sinaunang textbooks at pamahiin (They are not like how textbooks and superstitions describe them to be). Super nice naman si Madirawen—mas may class pa nga sa ibang mga babaeng tao na nakilala ko (Madirawen is nice, she has more class than some human girls).”

  His comment is not surprising, considering that during Pizza Sushi concerts, some fans have been known to throw panties onstage.

  A cha-cha with insanity

  AS EXPECTED, MANY of Bulan’s colleagues and contemporaries from the local art and theater scenes are vehemently opposed to his project of epic proportions—not least of them the former members of his production, who were rumored to have been overworked and underpaid. But perhaps the most interesting member of the latter is Bulan’s former best friend and Head of Production Design, multi-awarded Elysia Bernardino.

  Bernardino, who uses her marvelously knobby, blue-veined hands in grandiose gestures when she speaks, unwittingly staged a mutiny when in her own walk-out, she was followed by many of the stagehands, sound engineers, makeup artists. Mutineers included National Artist for Theater props designer Simplicio Dimaculangan and his team, and even multi-awarded costume designer, Maricris Lobelia.

  “Hesus, I didn’t mean any of that,” she said in an exclusive interview granted to The Archipelago Daily at her private residence Friday. “How the hell was I supposed to know they were just looking for an excuse to leave?”

  I could not see any of her sala’s four walls: one face was decorated from floor to ceiling with her awards, plaques, and medals; her favorite sketches were tacked up on another. A third was covered with pictures of her large family, while the last was obsessively plastered with photos of her and Bulan and her finished mechanical inventions from the four productions they collaborated in for the last 19 years.

  We chatted about many things found on those four walls, including her partnership with Bulan. The saddest of her stories was how she and Bulan grew especially close after her second husband died from a mugging incident. Bernardino—who will become a grandmother for the first time next month, recounted how, soon after the funeral, she marched into his office in the Sherwood-Fuller theater in Makati, four months pregnant and demanding she be given work, and he told her to make the first thing that came to her mind.

  “You have to understand, he never throws anything away, kaya ang daming kalat sa opisina niya (his office is a mess),” she shared. “In an hour, I assembled a sloppy handgun from old computer parts. Then he opened his book of epics to the table of contents, closed his eyes, and pointed randomly. Then he looks up at me and says, ‘Ely, we’re staging the Hinilawod as a gang war. Keri ba?’”

  “And I threw myself into the work until the day I broke down crying while building the rotating stage—alam mo ba yung ginawa niya noon (You know what he did then)? He took me by the hand and taught me how to cha-cha until I laughed.”

  When we finally came to the subject of Noladi, Bernardino said, “They say artists approach the border to insanity when making art. Jerald Bulan has not only crossed over to insanity—he dances the cha-cha with it.”

  She then pulled from a shelf a sizeable sketchbook labelled ‘NOLADI,’ the pages of which were filled from end to end with production notes in her neat cursive and sketches of whimsical designs of backdrops, prop buildings, monsters. There appeared to have been plans of a giant animatronic squid and the façade of a pearl palace capable of folding into itself onstage.

  It seems that Bulan’s perfectionism and Bernardino’s ingenuity complemented one another. So what made Bernardino quit the production?

  “I know he can be a bit of a slave-driver—that was fine with me dahil alam ko na kung paano siya mag-isip (because I know how he thinks), pero it was hell for everyone else,” said Bernardino, whose leaving the production effectively ended her partnership with Bulan. “May rumors nga that Cheryl almost miscarried because of him. Then he brought in that Tikbalang, but I still stuck with him—even when he brought in the Tianak. That is what you do for friends, and he was the best of mine. I hadn’t been as open to anyone since Anthony [her second husband] died.”

  Then she sighed and seemed to melt into her armchair with sadness, and it was quite difficult not to feel compassion for her upon hearing her next words. “But I knew I had to leave when he turned the Higanteng Pusit (Giant Squid) into a role instead of leaving it as a prop. It was just too much, too much—even for Jerald. At what cost, though? Ayaw na niya akong kausapin (He won’t speak to me).”

  The many faces of skepticism

  BUT OTHERS ARE not as kind in their assessments of both Bulan and the production.

  All sorts of people flocked to the rally outside the CCP that Sunday: young and old, male and female, Christian and Muslim. Priests, nuns, albularyos, folklorists, teachers, students, writers, artists, celebrities, government employees, mythic rights activists, former cast and crew.

  “For all his confidence, Bulan does not know what he’s done,” said veteran stage actor Julio Tan, who was set to play fourth suitor Prinsipe Haraya before Bulan brought in the mythic beings. Tan, who was among the opening night protesters, added, “Mamaya, baka kainin yung audience nang mga mythic beings na ‘yan (Those mythics might eat the audience)!”

  An adamantine resistance to Noladi’s staging was what united the differing reasons behind the two organizers—multi-Palanca-winning playwright B.M. Monsanto and National Artist for Literature Emilio N. Derije—beginning a Change.org petition demanding that the CCP revoke the production’s three-month run.

  This petition, alongside the mysterious incident of grave vandalism against the Sherwood-Fuller Theater—the venue for many of the rehearsals—was one of the strongest signals of public disapproval toward the play before the opening night demonstration. It was 300 signatures short of its 3,000-signature goal as of opening night; but over a thousand signatories showed up for the protest.

  “Art is about the imitation of life,” explained Monsanto, who along with Derije, spearheaded the protests. Monsanto’s most well-known play was his autobiographical traumatic encounter with a Kapre in
his hometown of Leyte in the 70s. “But life imitating art? Unheard of. Binababoy ni Bulan ang patakaran ng sining. (Bulan besmirches art’s purpose).”

  “This epic was not even written by people,” chimed in Derije, whose novel about the indiscretions of fictional elite families in Manila, The Fifteen Mansions of Death, was longlisted for the Man Asian Literary Prize last year. “Nor was it written for people. If this little experiment of Bulan’s catches on, who knows—baka mawalan nang trabaho ang lahat ng mga alagad ng sining (artists may not have jobs)!”

  “And what do you think Bulan is paying his…cast? Money?” added Monsanto. “For all you know, Bulan could have agreed to pay those mythics in human souls! Down with this production!”

  Ironically, Monsanto admitted to not having watched a single rehearsal. Neither had Derije, although he claims to have read the entire script and the epic itself.

  “This trend better not catch on,” said Fr. Noel Saavedra, when told of Derije’s remarks. Saavedra, the host of prominent Catholic radio show “Radyo Chi-Ro,” watched three rehearsals at the Sherwood-Fuller Theater last year and deemed it inappropriate enough for him and his fellow priests to take a stand.

  “This play will promulgate sexual immorality among our youth, especially among the young women,” he explained. “Hindi gaya ni Secretary Pilapil-Quiroz, di kami papayag na mangyari ito (We won’t allow this to happen like Secretary Pilapil-Quiroz did)!”

  Pilapil-Quiroz herself has confirmed attendance for opening night. In a statement to the press on Thursday, she emphasized that she would watch Noladi not just for her son Nathan, but also to gauge the play’s allegedly exploitative nature in addition to investigations conducted by her department since Noladi’s cast began rehearsing.

  “I have received a copy of the script and a copy of the original epic, as well as watched a few rehearsals and interviewed as much of the cast as was permissible with the help of a team of translators,” read the statement.