It
had been some time in the making. Nora Aunor, on self-imposed exile
for something like eight years, was rumored late last year to be
coming home. The rumors persisted for months, to the point that no
one quite believed she would be flying back till she actually stood
there in August, on Philippine soil.
Things
moved fast after that; TV5 had a deal with her to do a miniseries, or
in the local jargon a teleserye; Mario O'Hara was rumored to
direct. A large cast was assembled; this was TV5's first attempt at such a creature, and they apparently were to spare no expense. About a
month before its October broadcast, Jon Red was attached to the
project as co-director. Unlike other similar efforts, this apparently
was to end after a month--it would come, introduce its storylines,
and end. No extensions, no outstaying its welcome (the main reason
why quality drops, apparently,).
The
series opened October 3 to loud media fanfare; it was to be nothing
more and nothing less than a sprawling political melodrama, not
unlike--well, it's difficult to think of something, anything, it even
remotely resembles. I remember hearing of Peque Gallaga's Cebu
back in the '90s and in the mid-2000s--the shows were reportedly
memorable for the dialogue, acting, production design (most if not
all of Gallaga's films have excellent production design); I heard of
Chito Rono's Davao, which does for that southern city what
Gallaga's does for Cebu. Both are oft compared to Dallas or Dynasty--well-written potboilers done in high style.
Politics
often lightly touches Filipino melodramas, and occasionally there'll
be a character running for office, but never to my limited knowledge
has an entire series been devoted to an election and its elected
official's subsequent administration. One thinks not of Dallas,
but of Altman's Tanner '88--sophisticated satire where Altman
veteran Michael Murphy poses as a political candidate that, in his
deadpan seriousness, comes uncomfortably close to resembling the
posture of actual candidates (what's pose and what's real then?). Sa Ngalan ng Ina on the other hand is a full-speed-ahead
melodrama, all tears and screaming and hair-pulling mixed with
backroom intrigues and lurid affairs, plus the occasional
assassination attempt. A garish mix of pathos and the grotesque, the
Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus crossed with a
small-town fiesta--much like a real Filipino-style election, when you
think about it (the series' spirit if not tone connects it to
Altman's work more than might be expected).
The
series won high praise, but only modest ratings--it didn't pull in
the general audience. Watching it, you wonder if it ever could, or
was even meant to. Politics despite its tendency to inspire eccentric
or even obsessive behavior, has never been popular television fare in
the Philippines (or anywhere else, actually); leastwise, people seem
to prefer practicing than watching it. For all its plot twists and tearjerking moments, this
teleserye does keep a careful eye on the actual politics, the endless
fundraising and shifting alliances, the nuts and bolts of
administering a local government--one subplot involves the siphoning
of provincial treasury funds into a rice stockpile; another traces
money meant to buy farm equipment handed over to local mayors.
The
series is different because it's about something--the struggle
between rival political dynasties; how personal life affects public
life; so on and so forth. TV audiences possibly aren't used to this much
substance and complexity in prime time--it whizzes over their heads.
Or rather, I suspect, it doesn't; they know exactly what's going on.
They've seen too much of the shenanigans of real dynasties (the
Aquinos, the Marcoses, the Macapagals) to want to watch it realized,
however brilliantly, on the small screen (call it “The Tanner
Effect”--low ratings due to inspired mimicry).
The
first week followed a classic story: aspiring gubernatorial candidate
Amang Deogracias (Bembol Roco) is assassinated under orders of Lucia
Ilustre (Rosanna Roces), wife of incumbent governor Pepe Ilustre
(Christopher De Leon); Amang's wife Elena Deogracias (Nora Aunor)
runs in her husband's place, and wins the election. The story is
fairy-tale fantastic (a housewife for governor?) and by all rights
laughable, only it closely follows the actual career of Corazon
Aquino, who ran in place of her husband Ninoy against arch-rival and
long-time president Ferdinand Marcos (alongside his infamous wife
Imelda), and won. Aside from transposing national events to the size
and scale of provincial politics (the province of Verano standing in
for the Philippines, the town of Salvacion standing in for the
country's capital Manila, the office of governor representing that of
president)--so far so faithful.
Then
the real creativity comes in. Elena has to run her administration the
same time she has to administer her four children: stepson Alfonso
(Alwyn Uytingo), a hotheaded drug lord; younger stepson Angelo (Edgar
Allan Guzman), a police officer; stepdaughter Andrea (Nadine
Sarmonte), a local mayor, and Elsa Toribio (Eula Caballero), Elena's
daughter out of wedlock. Alfonso is arrested under Elena's orders,
and escapes with the help of Andrea; Elena orders a manhunt for
Alfonso and an investigation of Andrea, earning their unending
enmity.
Angelo
and the Ilustre's only daughter Carmela (Karel Marquez) are
sweethearts, though Elsa is also in love with Angelo; Andrea plans to
marry Ramoncito (Joross Gamboa), who pretty much acts like her heroic
manservant / wash rag. Lucia despite being married is conducting an
affair--her husband Pepe is paralyzed from waist down, and is
confined to a wheelchair, unable to perform his marital duties. Of
all the major factions Elena stands alone, with only her
daughter Elsa, her younger stepson Angelo and her sister Pacita
Toribio (Eugene Domingo) giving moral support and (on Pacita's part)
the occasional commonsense advice; against her stand Pepe and Lucia's
politically powerful family, two of her own children (Andrea and
Alfonso) with their own respective groups and resources, and
eventually her own political party (investigating fellow party
members for corruption (the farm equipment scandal) did not win her
friends). With her is a secret ally--former governor Pepe
Ilustre, who as it turns out was Elena's former sweetheart.
The
situation is akin to housewife Cory running against the
Marcoses' powerful political machinery, only Ferdinand has been
harboring a secret crush on her all along. The idea seems to play off
on the implausible nature of Filipino politics, where personality
counts far more than policy, a man's ties--social, familial,
amorous--and not his time or actions in office define him, and
theater--a good storyline in particular--is all. Your stepson a drug lord, your other stepson a cop? A former lover your
secret ally? Why not? We're taking Filipino politics to the next
level: politics intensified, to the speed and complexity of television melodrama.
Call it Filipino hyperpolitics.
Likewise
with the characterization. Many of the characters' names are
thuddingly obvious--'Angelo' for for what seems to be the province's
only good and honest cop; 'Dorinda' (a 'komiks' name if ever there
was one, usually a villainess at that) for Elena's vice-mayor;
'Deogracias' meaning 'grace of God' (Elena is only a novena short of
sainthood status, it seems). For the first week all the characters
play classic types: Alfonso is a hot-headed wild card, Andrea a
bitchy manipulator; Lucia is a larger-than-life villainess complete with
cunning machinations and chilling monologues (there's a memorable
moment where a man is tortured and killed and she sits in her vehicle
not a hundred feet away, murmuring lazy sentiments about snakes, and
the satisfaction of crushing their skulls underfoot). She's like a
cross between Lucrezia Borgia and her immediate inspiration, Imelda
Marcos (whose native-style gowns and high-seated hairbuns she
deliberately imitates).
Next week: Best of the year arguably, next part
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