Badjao (The Sea Gypsies, Lamberto Avellana, 1957)

Waterworld

Badjao starts with an image of waves lapping onto shore, the divide between land and sea stretching diagonally across the screen. With his first frame Lamberto Avellana (collaborating with the great cinematographer Mike Accion) visually sums up the picture: the tension between sand and surf, between people of differing loyalties, communities, ethnicities. A man stands beside a roof of dried palm raises his horn against clouded sky and blows; cue the bombast (and lovely lilting melody) of Francisco Buencamino Jr.'s theme music.

Avellana cuts to a series of shots, of thatched roofs gliding endlessly past a tight camera frame. As the shots widen we see that the roofs sit on large canoes, the canoes collect to form a village, the village floats on a vast sea. The progression serve a purpose I think: to introduce what feels at first like immense wood-and-leaf constructs only to learn that they're really fragile little huts built to ride implacable waters-- to in effect see the seafolk's majesty through their own eyes before pulling back and realizing their humbler circumstances.

Avellana seizes attention right off: the tribe gathers round their Badjao chief (Pedro Faustino) as he holds a babe, its umbilical freshly cut, up high. "If it survives it's worthy to be a Badjao" the chief declares; "if it doesn't then the father has lost nothing" and without further ado tosses the newborn into the water. Barbarous yes, shocking yes (though infants do have protective reflexes) but in its own way the ritual has a harsh grandeur: these people constantly surrounded by water are reminded (the child above all) that the spark of life is thrillingly precious, especially when in danger of being doused. 

The chief's son Hassan (Tony Santos) is harassed by the Tausug warrior Jikiri (Vic Silayan Jr.); Hassan and his fellow Badjao travel en masse to the Tausug village to air their grievance, and again we see Avellana unfolding his world even further: as the Badjao anchor their boats we see huts raised high on either side, a bamboo bridge stretching across, a pedestrian crossing that bridge. Hassan's brother Asid (Leroy Salvador) passes a store, examines the dried fish and pineapple on display; an annoyed storekeeper waves him away-- the brief vignette summing up the Badjao's social status. 

The Badjao with their pronged spears stand in front of Datu Tahil's (Joseph de Cordova) residence-- two stories high, and the most palatial structure we've seen so far. "You approach us with your weapons" Tahil notes. "Our prongs stand for our life," the Badjao chief replies-- they are work tools to help the sea folk catch their food. Tahil haughtily reassures the Badjao of their rights, though the real action is in the sidelines: Hassan has caught sight of Tahil's niece Bala Amai (Rosa Rosal), a regal swannecked princess stepping out from a back room, and is awestruck. He wants her for his wife.

The balance of the film outlines the increasingly dear price Hassan pays for Bala. Along the way we not only learn the dynamics between tribes (Bala in marrying Hassan debases herself; Hassan in staying with Bala surrenders his Badjao identity) we learn of the humanity of the two lovers. Tony Santos' Hassan has an appealing sense of pride-- not ostentatious but rock solid; tactful and modest but willing to speak up for himself when necessary, stake his life in defense of his honor. If he gives up much of that pride for Bala-- becoming Tausug is ostensibly a step up, though Avellana (through Hassan) makes us feel that it's really a step down-- this is less the mark of a weak will than it is the mark of a great love. Later when his status as newly adopted Tausug is jeopardized Hassan seems lost-- he has no precedent to guide his actions, and he must draw from what he knows about the Badjao and the Tausug to (with crucial support from Bala) force his own path, somehow satisfy his dented but still defiant sense of honor. 

Rosa Rosal's Bala is a more subdued creation. She comes off at first as a breathtakingly exotic creature, more prize to be won than equal partner in a relationship; when Hassan marries her though she makes demands (they should stay with the Tausugs, etc), presumably the price she believes Hassan must pay for marrying above his station. She later proves her loyalty to Hassan by speaking up for him to Datu Tahil, when grateful obligation has forced Hassan to stay silent; later she remains by his side even when they have lost everything. Rosal's role here as trophy turned true wife, while strictly subordinate, is nevertheless a graceful performance, full of subtle shadings and gentle transitions. 

Joseph de Cordova's Datu Tahil makes a fine foil to Santos' Hassan. Surrounded by a palatial home and fierce warriors (including the volatile Jikiri) he swaggers like a black-and-white Yul Brynner; in more intimate negotiations he reveals a winning charm and understated humor, the mark of an experienced leader and diplomat. If he suffers from the flaw of avarice it's initially a mere taint, suggested at first by his interest in Hassan's beautiful blue pearls, later fanned to an intense flame by the pearl trader Ismail (Oscar Keesee), who plays Tahil as skillfully as Tahil plays everyone else.

Avellana here (as in Huk sa Bagong Pamumuhay) is again not as showy a filmmaker as Gerardo de Leon but when necessary is perfectly capable of stepping up (Mike de Leon: "in my book he's the better storyteller"). The duel between Hassan and Jikiri starts with a jawdropper: Jikiri, looking resigned in the face of Hassan's resistance, suddenly swings his kris (blade forged in sinuous wave, to slice deeper into flesh) in a high arc, to be caught by Hassan's tiny prongs (if you think that's easy, try it (watch your fingers)). Avellana shoots literally from the hip, waist-high camera looking up at Jikiri's heavier bulk as it bears down again and again on Santos' leaner figure; the fight ends in a struggle beside a rock pool-- again an image of the film's divided nature, caught between land and sea.

As for the finale (skip this paragraph if you plan to see the film!) I mentioned how Hassan was lost twice over-- first to the Badjao (for marrying Bala) later to the Tausugs (for defying Datu Tahil). When he returns to his own tribe they are suspicious-- why accept him, after his betrayal? Hassan's response comes straight out of the very heart of Badjao tradition (though with a decidedly unorthodox twist), is in fact carefully prepared for by Avellana in his opening sequence. Hassan shows his willingness to pay for what he most wants-- acceptance back into the tribe-- with what he most values, an all-or-nothing gambit (literally that; if Hassan failed I can't see Bala staying by his side). Who can resist such a grand gesture? Not the Badjao, apparently; certainly not me.

What more to say? Arguably Avellana's masterpiece, and arguably one of the greatest Filipino films ever made.  

First published in Businessworld 4.26.19