Saturday, July 23, 2011

Rizal X













 Ang palabas na ito ay tungkol kay Rizal. Pero hindi rin.

That's how the play started--a caveat flashed in bold letters onto a wrinkled, white tarpaulin that was quickly hauled up. Impressive start. There's something in that opening statement that sounded crisp and intelligent, and brave, more importantly. A show of defiance of some sorts. Or maybe I was just thinking too hard and got carried away. 
 
Unlike most Rizal plays that have already been staged, Rizal X is not about a loyal retelling of his novels. It is neither about his biography nor a classical portrayal of a period I can only describe in images of sepia. It is rather an ambitious effort to bring Rizal to the present -- a move so delicate that it would become painfully corny if not executed with layers of artistic candor and vision. 

Rizal X was a play, and it was also a musical; not the Les Miserables type but bordering towards Rent or Glee, or the Glee Project to be more relevant. There were green, Party Pilipinas laser lights, too, to match the rock and roll. There were occasional scenes of kundiman and an interesting hip hop number and a few fluid, contemporary dances. And oh, there was also a short film--yes, they rolled down the wrinkled, white tarpaulin. And there was so much more: dialogues, monologues, animations and the humorous and witty packets of a standard Dulaang UP production we have grown to enjoy. Of course, there was Rizal. His women. His letters. His dreams. His disappointments. His 150th birthday. And a huge party.

And there was us. I saw myself in this play. My sister was also there; even my neighbors in the province I used to play with. I remember the pink, cotton candy I played with my tongue when I was a kid. It was smooth, tangy. It disappears, never gets through my esophagus. Was thinking about a lot of things until the actors gestured their final bow. It was active thinking; I reassured myself. 

It was a play about Rizal, pero hindi rin.

I was thinking too hard and got carried away.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Bucket List













How to see a dying a man
With eyes that open less frequently now
In his sleep you witness the throbbing chest
Rises and ebs, rises and ebs.

How to see a dying life
The one you claim your own
You only claim it your own
When you realize it's no one else's,gone.

How to see a dying soul
That dies even before the death of life
Life does not bring it back to life
What happens then if life's gone first?

To see the world in the eyes of death
Is to see death in the eyes of life
How to see a dying man
Through the eyes of a dying soul?

Into the Wild














Loneliness, if only you could talk
What would you tell me?
You are not a person who could say
Hi, hello.

To talk back to me
Yourself you betray
But what if you could
What would you tell me?

Would you tell me to look
At the shadows and
Imagine their real faces?

Oh, shove me away
There is no gravity
Only the intensity to frolick
In your silence.

But if only you could talk
You could also then listen
And capture the spirits
Of the tides, of the sun's rays in arrows.

But I will have to wait
Until you talk back
And I will wait even longer
'til I grow tired of you--loneliness.

And though voice you do not have
You have the perfect memory
To remember that I
Once asked you to talk back to me.