Philippine Speculative Fiction by Andrew Drilon Read Free Book Online Page A

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