The Pacquiao Victory: Pop Icons and National Pride

By Jason Paul Laxamana
Urban Kamaru
Central Luzon Daily

In a certain forum on the Internet, members are arguing on whether Manny Pacquiao's victory against Hampton should be given that much of a deal, to the point of labeling a boxing champ a national treasure. The thing is, in the Philippines, it's no longer a question of whether it should given that much of a deal because obviously, it already has for past years.

Named the “National Fist” of the country, everytime Pacquiao's match abroad arises, the Philippines—from the urban to the rural—is expected to lay still like it's celebrating a holiday. All eyes, regardless if they belong to Muslims, Christians, the poor, or the elite, are on his match, and the unofficial celebration rivals even Ramadan or Good Friday. Crime rate can go as far as zero percent and comes the time Pacquiao knocks out his opponent, we all jump together in triumph like winning a war against an invading country.

I am not here to judge whether this is bad or good. In the country of Barbados, RnB sensation Rihanna is very admired, in that the government decided to appoint a Rihanna Day in its calendar. It's a national holiday! In South Korea, international pop star BoA has been given an award by their President because her musical prominence in both South Korea and Japan is said to have contributed to the easing of the tension between the two countries (South Korea was invaded by Japan in the past).

However, it's slightly different in the Philippines because Pacquiao's victory, whenever it arises, seems to be the most important moment for the Filipinos. Pride rises from the heart to the head, and it makes the Filipinos think, “Damn, I so love being a Filipino.” In fact, I don't think our national hero Jose Rizal has ever causes current Filipinos to feel that way.

Manic with Pacquiao

The reason Filipinos are manic with what some intellectuals call “shallow” bases of pride—such as Charice Pempengco making waves in the US, Manny Pacquiao's winning in matches, or even Apl De Ap's inclusion in the Black Eyed Peas, is because we are a quasi-nation state.

A quasi nation-state is a community (like the Philippines) where the state was formed first before the nation. We know our Philippine history. The Spaniards forced us together into a country, not caring about our cultural diversity, linguistic dissimilarities, and regional competitions. Mindanao, they say, has never been conquered by the Spaniards; that is why they are asserting their “right” to secede from the Republic.

There were several ethnic groups that, in the past, formed several small “nations,” with their own specific languages, goals, songs, customs, etc. These small nations were forced together against their will. And so, trouble begins.

Now that the physical invaders are gone, and now that the Philippines is left to the hands of the natives, we are struggling to make ourselves a nation despite the long existence of the state. Difference is, the state was formerly in the hands of foreigners.

This quest for nationhood is the reason we have the National Bird, National Song, National Dance, National Language, etc. even though for example, the Northern Luzon people do not dance the tinikling, or even though majority of Visayas and Mindanao people used to not speak Tagalog at all.

Each ethnic group has its own precolonial gems of pride—local heroes, folklore, dances, literature, and cuisine—but since we are now one, these are usually dissolved. Lucky are those that get absorbed into the national scene, like the Barong Tagalog and the Sinawali style of arnis, to become Filipino property instead of, for example, Cebuano, Pampango, or Igorot properties.

Vacant positions

Since the Filipino nation is a new thing, we are desperate in finding other sources of Pinoy pride. Kapampangan pride, Ilonggo pride, Waray pride—these are all to be shut off because regionalism is said to be one of the major hindrances to national unity. “We need Filipino pride!” nationalists wail. The government and the educational institution solve this by trying to produce competent contemporary artists in the realm of high art: painting, ballet, classical music, cinema, etc. But honestly, do the masses look up to the high arts? Does even the middle class look up to the high arts? I think they look up more to pop icons.

So when popular cases like Pacquiao, Pempengco, Apl De Ap, or even the Filipino chefs in the White House, reach the consciousness of the masses through local mass media, they rejoice and claim they are proud to be Pinoy, because without them, we feel we are losers in the global arena, with all the bad news and reputations we have—corruption, unlawfulness, tax evasions, scandals, and poor waste management. Other countries like China, Korea, or the US don't care if any of their citizens or expatriates make it big in the Philippines because they appear to be not insecure.

We are insecure!

This artificial, fragile pride of ours is also the reason that whenever someone blasts the Filipinos, we whine like crybabies. Remember the so-called ethnic slur from Desperate Housewives? The 'Family Guy' cartoon and the 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith' movie also had made fun of Filipinos in one of their lines, but they're lucky Filipinos didn't pick them up. And let's not forget the Hong Kong-based columnist.

That's how fragile our national pride is. Atuan me mung bagya, kumiak ne. I am quite sure there are plenty more Filipinos who have wrote negatively about Americans, Koreans, or other nationalities, but I am also quite sure we never heard anything from them—nothing compared to how far we want to go to express our national disappointments. They never made petitions or rallies or whatever, asking for public apologies and stuff. American shows make fun of Koreans, Chinese, Frenchmen, Canadians, and Mexicans more but they don't act like crybabies like Filipinos.

Omitting the Quasi

The transition from being a quasi nation state to being a genuine state is a hard one. It's going against our nature because nationalizing ourselves means extinguishing some items that make up our diversity, as the less powerful ethnic groups are systematically forced to succumb to national policies (that are supposed to be democratic). Remember how Ramadan used to be NOT a holiday for non-Muslims in the Philippines, yet Muslims take a holiday during Christmas because government said so?

This is not unique to Filipinos though. China is undergoing the same process, trying to eliminate its diversity with its “Zonghua Minzhu” concept. “One China,” the People's Republic says. Rebels like the Tibetans are pacified and Taiwan is endlessly being wooed into unifying with China. Only Mandarin is the language in China and the others are systematically reduced to dialects (like in the Philippines). What makes them successful in their nationalizing actions is that they have an authoritarian government which has access to lots of resources.

The Filipino government cannot do that because it is poor and democracy is highly fought for.

Pinoy X-Men and Street Fighter characters, anyone?

By Jason Paul Laxamana
Urban Kamaru
Central Luzon Daily

There have actually been a lot of popular fiction titles—in TV, movies, video, and PC games—that offer racially diverse worlds. In these titles, the main characters are not just White Americans, albeit the setting could most of the time be in the United States.

Take for example the diverse universe of X-Men, where characters are not just from different countries—they are also from different times, from different dimensions, from different planets, galaxies, and even different universes. Let’s focus on planet Earth though. We have popular delegates from Canada, the most popular being Wolverine. Russia is highlighted by Colossus and the Soviet’s prime weapon Omega Red. Storm is Egypt’s proud mutant. We also have Gambit from France, Nightcrawler from Germany, the Jewish Magneto, and many more.

Then we have Street Fighter, which you probably had your first glimpse of with the movie ‘The Legend of Chun-Li.’ I, on the other hand, have known Street Fighter ever since I played Street Fighter 2 back in my Elementary days.

Being a world geek (in Elementary, I was able to literally memorize the capitals of all the countries in the world in whatever continent; Antananarivo, Ulaanbaatar, and Tegucigalpa were my favorite place names), I found the video game Street Fighter amusing, with each playable character representing a certain country, and at times, representing the martial arts and traditional fashion of that country. You can even choose a country to serve as your game’s location.

Ryu and Honda represented Japan; Ken, Balrog, and Guile represented USA. Dhalsim, a personal favorite, represented India while his skills revolve around the discipline of Yoga; Saggath, Adon, and Bison (albeit biologically Irish) of Thailand; Blanka of Brazil; Chun Li of China; Fei Long of Hong Kong; Dee Jay of Jamaica; Zangief of Russia, with Sambo-inspired brute skills, a popular sport in Moscow; Cammy of England; T. Hawk of Mexico; and Vega of Spain, among others.

Kiddie cartoons also have their share of diverse worlds, such as ‘Codename: Kids Next Door.’ Numbah 1, the leader, is a British boy. Numbah 2 is a blonde Australian kid. Numbah 3 is a happy and seemingly slow-minded girl from Japan. Numbah 4 is a techie stout kid from the United States. Last but not the least is Numbah 5, a black French girl. Together, they are known as the Kids Next Door.

Filipino, wer k?!

Having been concerned with the status of Kapampangan in the national setting, and of the Philippines in the global setting, I once included in a Kapampangan short story a boy who was wondering why there was no Filipino character in Street Fighter 2. Then, he began imagining how the Filipino fighter would look like and what his skills would be if ever Capcom decided to included Philippines in its roster of fighters and locations.

Now that you have read the first part of my article, it would be easy for you to tell that I am speaking through that kid, albeit I never thought of that as a kid.

But I still wonder: why is the Philippines often neglected in these fictional worlds of diversity. Is it our being a poor country? Is it our unpopular local culture, unlike those of Japan, Egypt, and China? Is it our cultural diversity, rendering other countries unable to figure out a single icon—or even a single audio-visual stereotype—that would represent a Filipino character?

Minute Moments of Glory

Filipinos have taken small parts in the world of fiction abroad.

Take for example the demon-possessed Filipina in the opening sequence of the religious fantasy Constantine, starring Keanu Reeves, where she even spoke a Tagalog line ("Papatayin natin siya"), albeit unnatural.

The original Starship Troopers storyline from the book had Juan Rico, the main protagonist, as a Filipino, accompanied by a multiracial training group.

Dante’s Peak spoke of the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo in its lines.

Ashton Kutcher’s MTV Punk’d once used as accomplice a red carpet correspondent who spoke Tagalog to celebrities passing by.

A Tagalog-speaking ventriloquist can also be found in the Hollywood movie ‘Big Fish,’ starring Ewan McGregor, when his character was parachuting onto the Korean stage.

Sinawali, a fighting style credited to the Kapampangan warriors of Macabebe, is included in the Kali Silat martial arts DVD available in the United States.

We have also expressed our protest in several so-called "racial slurs," from the ‘Desperate Housewives’ to BBC’s ‘Harry and Paul’ show. The latest of course would be that "nation of servants" label from a Hong Kong columnist.

Filipinos also giggle in mirth upon seeing the name of their country included in global listings and popular world cultural products, such as Philippine English being recognized as a significant dialect of English, the Philippines being one of the most SMS-crazy country, our country being mentioned in one of Britney Spears’ songs ("Piece of Me"), and a lot more.

We are not alone

Of course, we are not the only country neglected in diversity-driven titles. We’ve never seen characters from Trinidad & Tobago, Bosnia & Herzegovinia, Vanuatu, Lesotho, Belarus, Luxembourg, Seychelles, Djibouti, Sao Tome & Principe, Malawi, and Azerbaijan except probably in Miss Universe pageants.

Despite having history with contemporary and former world superpowers such as USA, Spain, and Japan, we still don’t appear in their imaginations, in the shows and games they produce. And whenever we do, it’s either a pitiful bit or a derogatory portrayal.

We don’t even have to think global to notice our ethereal identity. Whenever the world speaks of Asia, or Asian culture, they are most probably referring to the Chinese, Japanese, and Korean, and to a great extent as well, the South Asians (Indians). Thailand, Indonesia, and Malaysia will come to mind on the other hand when we begin to talk about South East Asia.

A pity, isn’t it? Don’t get me wrong though. I wrote this article because I believe we have to know our place, our status, in the world before we can pinpoint how to work about things. Because for all we know, a lot of Filipinos are already complacent, living in the delusion that the Philippines is a very popular country in the world, with all the Manny Pacquiao victories, American Idol participations, foreign film festival engagements, and the Charice Pempengco citations. "Feeling sikat," as we often say.

It’s an effective source of pride for a lot of Filipinos whose world knowledge is limited to what free television can share; I just hope we can make Pinoy pride injected into the global consciousness, not just local.

Please email your reactions to sisig_man@yahoo.com.ph

Kapampangan art is not acclaimed in Pampanga

‘Balangingi’ is ETC Best Short Film Awardee
Why are Kapampangan artworks awarded in other places but not in the province?
By Jason Paul Laxamana
Urban Kamaru
Central Luzon Daily

World Trade Center, Metro Manila—our Kapampangan short film ‘Balangingi’ (Nosebleed) wins the ETC Award for Best Short Film at the First Philippine Digital (Phil Digi) Music and Short Film Awards last March 12. Competing in a certainly Tagalog-dominated category, ‘Balangingi,’ in spite of being the only regional language entry, still impressed the Board of Judges from Entertainment Central (ETC), causing them to declare it the winner.

‘Balangingi’ tells the story of Xoo, who seems to be a standard teenager who lives boringly like everyone else, but unknown to people in his surroundings is what happens in his head—philosophizing about things average people would deem mundane, down to the minutest detail. One day, he is forced to attend a blind date. To avoid turning off his date, he struggles to suppress his intellectual side. The short film gives a peek to that minority in Philippine society who are unlikely to survive socially by being themselves—the Filipino intellectuals. Thus, the negative connotation of the local word “pilosopo” when it’s supposed to mean a lover of wisdom (philosopher).

According to the official website of the Phil Digi Awards: “There have been a lot of songs composed that are worth listening to. Quality short films are created even with low budget but are amazingly filled with art, ideas and moral values. Unfortunately, because of budget constraints, tough competition in getting radio airplays and film screens, and lack of knowledge, these great songs and films are being shelved. This is why iSYS Business Solutions and Blue Fish Asia came up with first Philippine Digital Music and Short Film Festival.”
Kapampangan Kompetes!

As usual, being a cultural worker seeking to empower the Kapampangan identity, I participated in the contest to “advertise” what Kapampangan can offer.

Note: I said what Kapampangan can offer, not what Kapampangans can offer. There’s a difference. It’s easy to show the world that Kapampangans (by blood) can be excellent. But oftentimes, these Kapampangans drop their being a Kapampangan—either consciously or not—to command the spotlight unto them. This, in my opinion, doesn’t empower the Kapampangan identity much. Whenever this happens, I just shake my head and whisper, “We’ve lost another one.”

In the venue of the Phil Digi Awards, there were huge tarpaulins where participants and guests can write anything—a freedom wall. Amidst the Pinoy pride slogans, individual promotions, and indie artist empowerment statements, we decided to write a message: “Kapampangan Ku, Pagmaragul Ku.”

Hours passed, and messages became more cramped in the tarpaulins. Checking out the “Kapampangan Ku, Pagmaragul Ku” again, we were surprised to see a reply written by a certain Larry, saying, “Kapampangan ku mu rin!”

Fast forward. ‘Balangingi’ was declared winner in the ETC category. I went up the stage to nervously deliver the first acceptance speech of my life—which started with “Mayap a bengi pu” and ended with a message on promoting Philippine cultural diversity—before an audience of both indie and mainstream artists, while being covered by the media.

And then we left, but not before checking out again the tarpaulin. Another reply, written by someone else, was suddenly added: “Aliwa la talaga ring Kapampangan!”

Perhaps we need more of these, as I call them, contemporary sources of Kapampangan pride—those that genuinely bring elements of Kapampangan identity to a more prestigious ground. For if we keep on drawing pride from Kapampangans who are successful but don’t carry with them elements of our identity (such as language, heritage, etc.), then we’re perpetuating the idea that the path to being successful is to drop our Kapampangan identity, when it is very possible to stick with Kapampangan (or make it the foundation of our works) and still get national or even global recognition.

Ligligan Kilual

The very reason I join film, music, and other competitions outside Pampanga is because Pampanga doesn’t have these. Hence, if I depended on what the province has, then I would have no means of increasing the symbolic value of my works, in spite of some of them probably being valuable to a certain degree.

There are no renowned music awards in Pampanga that would honor the best of the locally produced original songs annually; only specialized areas like those Battle of the Bands and so-so solo and choral singing contests. There are no film festivals. There are no province-wide literary contests except for municipality-level poetry tilts that produce Poet Laureates irregularly.

In result, a lot of Kapampangan artists who wish to prove something, feast their eyes on Manila and other countries, where it is actually easier to get formal acclamation than in their own homeland, just for the sole reason that the province doesn’t care much about the artistic capabilities of its residents, as seen in the scarcity of serious award-giving bodies.

An unrelenting source of funds, a board of credible judges, sincere support from the government, and media hype—these are the key ingredients in carrying out annual contests which are supposed to be looked forward to by the community, and looked up to by the people. Emerging as a first-time victor in these contests should make one feel as if he has undergone a birth of fire. He should feel several notches prouder, being aligned with the past winners who are supposed to be icons of excellence, as well.

But we have none. Probably the highest award from the province that can be bestowed to a writer, musician, visual artist, photographer, filmmaker, or actor would be the Most Outstanding Kapampangan Award for Culture and the Arts. So all your life, you have to struggle with your craft, reap awards from anywhere but your homeland, and when you have enough nice foreign awards up your sleeve, that’s when the province honors you.

But the province itself doesn’t make impressive actions in encouraging the best in the various areas of art.

Sindi, Patda

Contests are often held because they serve significant purposes—to encourage the creation of excellent artworks amidst art being a financially unrewarding career path in the country (especially in the province), and to invite the participation of the community in a certain field of art.

In a seemingly robotic world where almost everyone is reduced to a mechanical being tasked to perform a dehumanizing routine to survive, sustainable development in the arts will remind people of their humanistic side. I believe that the acknowledgment and exploration of our humanistic side prevent us from being insane from routines; and permit us to choose wisely and embrace elegant world views that will guide us sensibly in our decisions in life.

I know for a fact though that fields of art like music and sculpture thrive both in rural and urban Pampanga, but as Phil Digi Awards mentioned, these are usually shelved. They are made, but not distributed. Not all of them are excellent, but I’m sure a couple are, and they deserve to be known.

Now I ask: What efforts does the province make to seek for these artworks that deserve attention? What steps does the province take to collect these pieces of consciousness, which in the far future will remind the people how the art scene—which reflects culture, too—in Pampanga used to be?

Pampanga is becoming more and more like a parent who doesn’t care much about the promising talent of his/her child. What will the child do? He will either suppress his talent out of discouragement and choose the “more practical ways of life” (read: be like everyone else, go where the flow is, don’t innovate, don’t lead, just follow); or he will seek for other people who will greatly acknowledge his skill—and stick with those people in spite of not having the same blood relation.

Or is Pampanga that poor for it to not think about these things? I thought we were boasting of economic progress for the past years. If indeed we are poor, doesn’t the Pampanga government bother to take advantage of national grants, like for example, those of the National Commission on Culture and the Arts, to organize decent tilts?

If this is how lifeless the Kapampangan region will be in the realm of arts, then let me have my second thoughts on federalism and having a separate state for Kapampangans.

Scarcity of Young Kapampangan Storytellers

Scarcity of Young Kapampangan Storytellers
Kapampangans at the Taboan Philippine Int’l Writers Festival
By Jason Paul Laxamana
Urban Kamaru
Central Luzon Daily

Last February 11 to 13, literary writers from different provinces gathered in Quezon City to attend the first ever Taboan Philippine International Writers Festival. The gathering is the offering of the Committee on Literary Arts of the NCCA (National Commission on Culture and the Arts), which for the first time celebrated a non-Manilacentric National Arts Month.

‘Taboan’ is a Visayan word meaning assembly, marketplace, meeting place, or rendezvous. In the Kapampangan language, the closest translation is ‘tabnuan’ or ‘sasmuan.’


True to the title’s meaning, the festival gathered both young and old writers from the regions to attend various discussions on topics ranging from writing for a living, literature and publishing in the provinces, new forms of publishing, children’s literature, language and literature, building literary careers, emerging genres of fiction, to transforming literature to stage and screen plays, the non-reading youth, experimental poetry, feminism in literature, and writing for an international audience.

Delegates from the province were Kragi Garcia, representing the older generation, and yours truly, the younger generation, both accompanied by UP Pampanga Directress Prof. Juliet Mallari, who happens to be part of NCCA’s Literary Arts Committee.


Decentralizing Pinoy lit

Like Philippine Cinema, Philippine Literature has often been Manila/Tagalog-centric. The ongoing history of national literature has always put the spotlight on the writers from the center, not taking into account the developing—or perhaps, even the long-existing—literary scenes from the regions.

In my elementary and high school years, all the literary works we were required to read for our Filipino class were Tagalog pieces, rendering me ignorant of works from other provinces and even of Kapampangan literature. Only during my self-imposed literary journey have I been exposed to the works of Jose Gallardo, Juan Crisostomo Soto, and other Kapampangan luminaries.

English and Tagalog literature have for a long time occupied for themselves the box called Philippine or National Literature, that is why non-Tagalog and non-English works settled for their respective regional titles—Cebuano Literature, Waray Literature, Kapampangan Literature, Ilonggo Literature, etc.

If logic be applied, then it means Cebuano Literature is Cebuano Literature, not Philippine Literature, same way as having to coin the term Bisrock for Bisaya Rock, when there’s already Pinoy Rock. This is because Philippine Literature has always been associated with Tagalog and English.

With the organization of Taboan, however, this might begin to change eventually. Any Filipino work, regardless whether it is in Ilokano, Kankanaey, or Maranao, will be called Philippine Literature. If the language be needed to be emphasized, we’ll call a Kapampangan work “Philippine Literature in Kapampangan.”

The undocumented present

By listening to the stories of other people about their respective regions’ contemporary literature, I’ve realized that the Kapampangan literary scene is more endangered than I thought.

It’s not about the dispute over orthography—although this is still a problem. It’s probably not even about the illiteracy of young Kapampangans in their native language. For me, it’s the scarcity of this generation’s authentic storytellers—using whatever medium—that poses the biggest problem.

I was in the Angeles University Foundation last week delivering a lecture about contemporary Kapampangan culture to Communication students. I asked the audience if there were writers among them. No one was raising a hand—not until I complained about the pekat-pekat attitude of my fellow youth, which I said was a disgrace to our mighty ancestors.

So one girl raised her hand and I asked her what she writes. Fictional prose and poetry, she said. Then I asked her to recite the synopsis of her favorite among her own works. She told me the story of a Mindanao-residing boy affected by the war in the Middle East and in Mindanao—or something like that.

Then I asked her if she has ever written anything with a Kapampangan as a main character. She shook her head. “How about a story set in Pampanga?” I received the same answer. It didn’t surprise me though.

Of course she’s just one girl, and I know that to conclude based on the account of one person is illogical—but really, I have been encountering this case as if it’s the norm—a scary one—for the Kapampangan youth, even the supposedly bright ones. Aside from refusing to use their native language in literary writing, they write about stuff happening either nowhere or elsewhere, anywhere but never their homeland.

If one is to get a feel of the Kapampangan region through literature, the present decade and probably the 90s would be murky “mirrors of society.” Or probably, they would be “mirrors of society in the eyes of the elders.” The perspective of the young storyteller has gone missing.

Mystery of the rappers

This might come as a surprise, but, actually, local underground rappers are probably the only consistent homeland-rooted storytellers of my generation. Their rap tracks are available only through the web or through pirated CDs in Angeles City, but if you listen to their lyrics, albeit usually not in Kapampangan, you’ll get the impression that they are writing about their immediate surroundings—something not done even by most erudite college publication writers in the province.

The topics of their rap songs of course are not the type that would win Palancas or even the Buwan ng Wika writing contests, but you can somehow detect the local storyteller within them.

The mainstream example would have to be Apl De Ap’s “Bebot” song. Apl De Ap of the Black Eyed Peas is from Sapang Bato, Angeles City, and in spite of his international fame, some of his compositions still mirror his Kapampangan life. Take for example an excerpt from “The Apl Song.”

Listen closely yo, I got a story to tell
A version of my ghetto where life felt for real
Some would call it hell but to me it was heaven
God gave me the grace, amazin' ways of living
How would you feel if you had to catch your meal?
Build a hut to live and to eat and chill in.
Having to pump the water outta the ground
The way we put it down utilizing what is around
Like land for farming, river for fishing
Everyone helpin' each other whenever they can
We makin' it happen, from nothin' to somethin'
That's how we be survivin' back in my homeland

How to solve

I don’t have the antidote to this dilemma, but I can share my thoughts. First of all, schools play an important role in making students aware of the culture, history, and literature of the Kapampangans. I think if our young storytellers were exposed more to homeland-rooted literary works, they would be somehow swayed to that direction.

Being chained to the past would most likely be the next problem. If these storytellers only read works that speak of life in the peaceful meadows, Japanese period struggles, and other pieces where all female characters are Maria Claras, they might end up writing about the past, the way they imagine it, instead of writing about their own time.

We are a unique generation compared to our predecessors. We are the MTV generation, the DIY generation, the anime generation, the digital generation, the global village generation, and many other things, such that only we can probably write about directly from the heart. We are a generation addicted to social networking simultaneously having Friendster, Multiply, Facebook, MySpace, YouTube, and probably even Xtube accounts, while keeping diverse contacts in our phone books—and to not include these things, along with other “strange” concepts that cause our fights with our parents, in our generation’s literature will be a great denial of reality. Literature then fails.

Also, perhaps we should promote Creative Writing more in our province. I wonder why we don’t have annual writing workshops like those of Cebu, Negros, and Baguio. And how come we don’t have a Kapampangan category for the Palanca Awards? Or better yet, why don’t we have local literary contests, aside from the oral poetry (pamigale) contests where elders dominate?

Creative Writing has always been limited to the school publications, making it seem as though it’s the grandest thing a young Kapampangan literary writer can achieve locally—to be published in the school paper.

Send reactions to sisig_man@yahoo.com.ph

"Ding Musa Ning Minalin" documentary

Kalalangan Kamaru presents its second Kapampangan documentary titled Ding Musa Ning Minalin (The Muses of Minalin). Made in a non-traditional no-commentary format, the documentary seeks to present to the world this unique happening in the quiet town of Minalin every New Year's Day.


For Minalenyos, New Year's Day is not just about firecrackers and noise barrages. It's also about real men dressed in gowns. Watch the documentary here:



Director, Editor: Diego Marx Dobles
Exec Prod, Subtitles: Jason Paul Laxamana
Camera: Dobles, Laxamana
Prod Assts: Bevs Esguerra, Thea Lelay
Local Coordinator: Jon Juico

The Curious Case of Kapampangan Cinema

A personal account of a Cinema Rehiyon participant
By Jason Paul Laxamana
Urban Kamaru
Central Luzon Daily

Cinema Rehiyon was held last week at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP). It is the NCCA’s (National Commission for Culture and the Arts) Cinema Committee’s event for the then-called National Arts Month, now Philippine International Arts Festival (PIAF).

Cinema Rehiyon is the first ever film festival in Manila that puts the spotlight on independent films from the regions. Since the concept of Philippine Cinema has for long been Manila-centric, it is now time to decentralize it and take note of the more politically correct perception of Philippine Cinema—a collection of films from every corner of the archipelago, may they be indie or mainstream.


No Kapampangan participation

I make this personal joke—unfunny to some, probably—about Kapampangans naturally lacking the letter H in their speech. Despite this, it is ironic that they seem to be more involved with the Hearts’ Month during February instead of the Arts Month.

When the press release for the lineup of events for the PIAF was released, along with the focused provinces and cities of Cinema Rehiyon, I felt very bad because Kapampangan had zero participation.

“This is a showcase of nascent cinema from the regions. From the highlands in and around Baguio to the heart of Bicolandia that is Naga City; across the thriving Visayas cities of Cebu, Bacolod and Iloilo; and through Mindanao between Cagayan de Oro and Davao, a new generation of artists is telling stories of their own cultures and people in cinematic form.”

Being a Kapampangan indie filmmaker, I at once called the NCCA Cinema Committee and inquired whether the Kapampangan region can be represented by one of our short films—Ing Bangkeru (The Boatman).

No solid block

After more than a month of deliberation, they decided to include our film in the lineup, albeit categorized under the ambiguous “Short Films from Various Parts of Luzon” block. Our film shared space with a Laguna short film, a Batangas short film, and a Nueva Ecija short film—all Tagalog entries.

Enviable are the regions/provinces/cities that enjoyed a more definite block: Cebu short films, Bacolod short films, Cagayan De Oro short films, Central and Western Mindanao short films, Davao short films, Bicol short films, Baguio short films, and Iloilo full-length films.

Being the only Kapampangan during the festival, I actually felt lonely, seeing Cebuanos, Dabawenyos, Bicolanos, etc. come in numbers with lots of films to offer for the festival, speaking with one another in their respective languages.

It’s really tragic because Kapampangans have always played their part in national history (two sunrays in the Philippine flag are Kapampangan provinces), even in the field of arts. The CCP, where the festival was held, even has two areas named after two Kapampangan artists: Vicente Manansala and Aurelio Tolentino. Yet during Cinema Rehiyon—a historical event in the history of Philippine Cinema, I must say—we looked like a dying cultural minority, despite being one of the major ethnolinguistic groups of the country, and being one of the most progressive provinces in the country to date.

Alive after all...

Come to think of it though, an exclusive Kapampangan block could have been made. Aside from our “Ing Bangkeru” and our numerous other works (documentaries and music videos), there’s “Pupul” (Harvest) by Nicolette Henson, which bagged best narrative in her production class under Pam Miras at St. Scholastica’s College. It also made it to the Top 10 of the Short Narrative category of the Ateneo Video Open 10.

Then of course we have Mark Dela Cruz’ “Misteryo Ng Hapis” (Sorrowful Mystery), a full Kapampangan short film which enjoys several titles under its sleeve, including Best Picture in a recent year’s PBO Digitales, Best Thesis during its time at the UP Film Institute, Finalist in Cinemalaya 2007’s short film category, and Finalist in a recent Ateneo Video Open. It also competed in Cinemanila years ago. Following the trend is UP Film student Jacqueline Nakpil’s “Ke Lual Ning Kulambu” (Outside the Mosquito Net), her production thesis in 2007

Kapampangan full-length films are also existent. We have the internationally award-winning Kapampangan films of Brillante Mendoza like “Masahista” (The Masseur; City of San Fernando), “Kaleldo” (Summer Heat; Guagua), “Manoro” (The Aeta Teacher; Sapang Bato, Angeles City), and “Serbis” (Service; Angeles City). Although Mendoza’s Center Stage Productions is Manila-based, most of his actors and staff are his kabalen when he does Pampanga-based films. I should know; I have worked for him.

The Cinemalaya Best Picture of 2008 “Jay” (Bacolor), directed by Francis Xavier Pasion, can also be included. Even though the Manilenyos’ participation in the creation of the film was inevitable, most, if not all, actors actually hail from the province, as the auditions were held at DHVCAT in Bacolor. Even the lead actors, Baron Geisler (Angeles City) and Coco Martin (San Fernando), are Kapampangans.

But here’s the problem...

Despite the presence of these Kapampangan films, which are just as good as—or even better than—the other blocks I’ve seen during my three-day viewing of Cinema Rehiyon blocks, why have the organizers failed to detect us?

I know why. It’s because these Kapampangan films are not organized, unlike in Davao, Cebu, Bacolod, Iloilo, and other areas. Kapampangan productions sprout here and there, in various competitions, in various places, from Manila to Pampanga. They have all been individual efforts by various filmmakers who represent only themselves or their schools, not their homeland; filmmakers who are not yet well organized into a Kapampangan film community.

Most of the time, the people behind these Kapampangan films don’t even know the presence of other Kapampangan films, because each filmmaker is busy with his own career, flying solo either to Manila or abroad to propagate his/her own film, without thinking “I’m representing Kapampangan cinema.”

Is selfishness the root of this? I actually don’t think so.

The root

With conviction, I believe that the root of this is the deterioration of our people’s sense of being members of the Kapampangan community. The Kapampangans’ imagination of themselves as an equally distinct group like the Warays, Ilocanos, and Cebuanos is fading away, with Kapampangans, especially the talented ones, preferring to join the so-called Filipino community, which is actually just the Manila community.

While Kapampangan Cinema is a thing yet to be born, Kapampangans are actually not newbies in the industry. Manila has always employed the skills of Kapampangans—whose homeland is very near—in developing their film industry (and other industries as well): from Rogelio Dela Rosa to Gracita Dominguez; from Gregorio Fernandez (directed “Asahar at Kabaong,” “Senorita,” and “Higit Sa Lahat,” which won for him Best Director at the 1956 Asian Film Festival and also at the FAMAS) to Lea Salonga.


From Elwood Perez to Brillante Mendoza; from Patsy to Chuck Perez; from Lito Lapid to Liza Lorena; from Sharon Cuneta to Judy Ann Santos; from Paquito Diaz to Rodolpho “Dolphy” Quizon (born to Kapampangan parents in Pampanga but raised in Tondo); from Alma Moreno to Jaclyn Jose; from Hilda Koronel to Rosita Noble.

From Melanie Marquez to Dong Puno; from Dante Rivero to Rufa Mae Quinto; from Efren Bata Reyes to Lorna Tolentino; from Rudy Fernandez to Jean Garcia; from Nanette Inventor to Donita Rose; from Glydel Mercado to Rico Puno; from Ronnie Liang to Aljur Abrenica; and many more, and still progressing in number.

These are probably things not even national historians of Kapampangan descent like Ambeth Ocampo would be interested in tracing.

Local brain drain

While it seems nice that Manila has catapulted our kabalens to “national” status in the entertainment industry, what suffered actually is the Kapampangan community in general, as these Kapampangans who have been absorbed by Manila mostly have become assimilated to Tagalog culture, stripping away their “Kapampangan-ness” and their potential to represent the Kapampangan people.

A vivid example is probably Rogelio Dela Rosa, discovered by no less than the Father of Philippine Movies Jose Nepomuceno. Dela Rosa had a problem when the era of silent films was through—he had a very strong Kapampangan accent when delivering his Tagalog lines. But Dela Rosa worked so hard to master the Tagalog language, and later on, he was given a new break in the movie “Diwata sa Karagatan,” the first Filipino feature film sold outside the country.

It’s time for Cinekabalen

We have served the Manila film industry well and became instrumental in the propagation of Tagalog culture and language through cinema. Now, I guess it’s time to look back, even just a little, to our dear Kapampangan homeland and try to keep up with the rest of the country in producing local films—even just indie—that genuinely depict our native culture (both rural and urban) and imagination, using our own “de-Manila-tized” perspective. Because if Kapampangans won’t do this, no other region will do it for us.

This August, the first Cinekabalen Philippine Film Festival will be organized. It will not only exhibit existing Kapampangan works but also place in competition fresh Kapampangan works from participants, may they be students, professionals, mere enthusiasts, or ex-patriates. The mechanics can be found at http://cinekabalen.multiply.com.


To expose the Kapampangan audiences—most of whom believe that being assimilated to Manila’s pop culture is the way to go—to the impressive indie filmmaking efforts of other regions, Cinekabalen will also screen selected films from other regions in the Philippines, like Cebu, Davao, Bicol, Iloilo, Kalinga, Eastern Visayas, Bacolod, and Muslim Mindanao.

Actually, student short film competitions have been held in key colleges for the past years already, such as the Holy Angel University and Systems Plus College Foundation. Some have been technically competent. A major problem however is their “cultural confusion.” Their stories are not rooted to their homeland. They echo the stories of Manila, the way they see them on Manila and foreign TV shows and movies. The writers imagine too much melodramatic things and fail to see the beautiful local stories unfolding around the neighborhood.

All their characters speak Tagalog and English, and deliberately eliminate Kapampangan out of the picture because subconsciously Kapampangan is not as prestigious as the two official languages for them. Language is important in any cultural product that involves language. This is especially true for Kapampangan; anthropologist John Larkin mentioned in his book “The Pampangans” that Kapampangans share a lot of common culture with nearby ethnic groups, and their distinct language is one of the things that strongly sets them apart from the others.

Cultural farsightedness

I was chatting once with a college IT student, asking him to participate in the Cinekabalen short film competition this August. He said he would love to join, but told me he is not a good writer and does not know how to make stories.

So I chatted with him about life in general, until he casually revealed to me that he is a Muslim, converted from Christianity back when he was young. Within the Muslim community, however, “Muslims since birth” tend to regard themselves higher than “converted ones” or the so-called “Balik Islam.” Also, even though he was Muslim, he attended Catholic schools.

Then I told him—“There’s your story! You don’t have to imagine a lot of things in order to come up with a beautiful work.” I sounded sensible to him, and he got all excited about the concept (which came from him anyway), and told me that he WILL be participating. He got even more excited when I told him that the Muslims of Pampanga have never been tackled in any Kapampangan film.

This “cultural farsightedness” by budding writers and filmmakers is shared by many Kapampangans. For example, in the school paper of one university in Angeles City, a writer came up with the major highlights of the Year 2008. He cited the victory of Obama, the release of this Hollywood movie (“Twilight”), the end of season two of that TV show, the new album of this artist, the Eraserheads concert, Pacquiao’s victory over Dela Hoya, etc.

He didn’t consider the major happenings in Pampanga as highlights of 2008—the recall move against Governor Eddie Panlilio which has been getting national attention, the celebration of the first ever province-wide “Aldo Ning Amanung Sisuan” or Kapampangan language day, the release of the first ever Kapampangan rock album, the rise of Ara Muna (“O Jo, Kaluguran Da Ka”) to national fame, the production of the first ever Kapampangan TV drama (“Kalam”), the Cannes Film Festival participation of the Angeles City film “Serbis,” and the winning of “Jay” in Cinemalaya 2008, to name a few.

A reward-system shift

The question now is: how do we cure this illness? I believe it will take the introduction of a Kapampangan-glorifying trend to Kapampangans themselves for this to happen. Hopefully, Cinekabalen will contribute to the propagation of this trend.

Also, it would be highly appreciated if our public officials, academes, and successful entrepreneurs financially aid indie filmmakers who would knock on their doors for the production of their respective Kapampangan works. I believe part of the impressive output of Davao indie filmmaking community is due to the support of the more financially-blessed citizens of their place, like Mayors and businessmen.

Please email reactions to sisig_man@yahoo.com.ph

Old photos of Kapampangan stars care of Alex Castro.

The 1st Cinekabalen Philippine Film Festival

Makiabe na ka!

It is time for the Kapampangans to participate in the next wave of Philippine Cinema by holding its first ever Kapampangan Film Festival! The Cinekabalen Philippine Film Festival will be an annual event that will aim:

• To make people, especially Kapampangans, aware of the existence of Philippine Kapampangan cinema and to celebrate the capability of Kapampangans to make films
• To encourage Kapampangans, especially students, to make films that tackle the Kapampangan experience
• To promote the patronization of the Kapampangan language for aspiring filmmakers
• To hone the skills of aspiring Kapampangan student filmmakers through seminars, lectures, and workshop
• Provide a venue for aspiring competent filmmakers to showcase their work/s
• To organize a cooperative film community or network among the Kapampangans, especially universities with communication courses

The highlights of the festival will be: 1) the screening of Philippine Kapampangan full-length films, short films, music videos, and documentaries; 2) panel discussions on indie filmmaking; and 3) a short film competition.

Rules and mechanics of the short film competition:

- everyone is allowed to join (no age limit), except members of the core organizing committee

- animated entries are also allowed

- no music videos, only narratives

- no limit of number of entries

- dialogues must mainly be in Kapampangan

- setting of the story does not necessarily have to be in Pampanga or other Kapampangan-speaking regions like Tarlac and Bataan

- film must have English subtitles

- strictly 10-20 minutes in length

- in digital format (submit final work in playable DVD)

- any topic is allowed

- extreme violence and obscenity and unnecessary abuse of foul language are discouraged

- use of copyrighted music is not allowed

- deadline of entries (final DVD, registration form) will be on July 31; they must be shipped or submitted in person to the Juan D. Nepomuceno Center for Kapampangan Studies, Holy Angel University, Angeles City

- 8 to 10 finalists will be chosen (depending on the quantity of submissions) to compete in the festival; prizes are at stake for the top three best short films; special awards (best male performer, best editing, best screenplay, etc.) will also be given

Inquiries: text JASON @ 0918 699 2459 or email sisig_man@yahoo.com.ph

Visit: http://cinekabalen.multiply.com

An Honest Review of ‘Dayo’

By Jason Paul Laxamana
Urban Kamaru
Central Luzon Daily

One of the offerings of the Christmas season, along with New Year, is the annual screening of entries to the Metro Manila Film Festival, a long-running showcase of what Filipinos can offer in the field of mainstream cinema.

With the trailers I have viewed through the Internet and the synopses I have read here and there, I have finally been enticed to watch two—only two—entries to the film fest, which I both watched last December 25th. They’re the historical war love story ‘Baler’ starring Jericho Rosales and Anne Curtis, and the animated fantasy film ‘Dayo: Sa Mundo Ng Elementalia,’ featuring the voice of Nash Aguas. The cinema featuring ‘Iskul Bukol’ had the most people lined up to watch though.

For this article, I would like to make a review of the Mark Quilao-directed ‘Dayo,’ which has received raves from various sources. In fact, the Cinema Evaluation Board, which was established “ to formulate and establish a set of standards and criteria and procedures for the Cinema Evaluation System, subject to the approval of the Council, primarily based on but not limited to the following: Direction, Screenplay, Cinematography, Editing, Production Design, Music Scoring, Sound, and Acting Performances...” has given it a Grade A rating, so I got really intrigued with this project that has made a battalion of nationalists prouder to be Pinoy.


Growth of Animation in RP

As people who have been used to watching imported cartoons both from the United States and Japan (with its plethora of animé), the thought of having animation with Pinoy content is truly revolutionary and another step toward what I would call “de-neo-colonization.”

The first time that I was truly impressed with animation was with the band Mojofly’s all-CGI 3D music video for its song ‘Tumatakbo,’ which told the cute story of friendship (that can turn into romance) between a circus-going hunchback (who was all along a winged man hiding his wings on his back like Alwina of ‘Mulawin’) and “The Amazing Luisa na Tumutulay sa Miswa.” The music video is actually the first of its kind in the local music video scene, and its quality, although basic compared to those of Pixar and Dreamworks, is what I would say “Puedi ne.”

Then of course we have the now defunct Culture Crash Comics, which although just a comic book, reminds readers of animé, but with all-Pinoy original content—‘One Day, Isang Diwa,’ ‘Pasig,’ ‘Cat’s Trail,’ ‘Solstice Butterfly,’ and ‘Kubori Kikiam.’ The comic book was gaining a fan base, and I was actually dreaming of the stories being turned into real 2D animation, but alas, after more than 10 issues, the creators decided to stop.

Other small-time animations came and passed, including those of Tuldok Animation, until earlier this year, we had an animated movie about Pangasinan’s legendary princess. ‘Urduja’ was produced by APT Entertainment, Seventoon, and Imaginary Friends, featuring the voice of Regine Velasquez as the warrior princess.

And now, the latest, ‘Dayo,’ which featured impressive animation from Cutting Edge Productions and creative and entertaining renditions of Pinoy folklore characters such as the manananggal, tikbalang, kapre, nuno, sirena, and syokoy. We used to only see foreign culture in our TV and movie screens, but now, we get to see sorbeteros, sari-sari stores, capiz windows, bamboo foliages, billboards of local products, the Last Supper hung somewhere in the dining room, Catholic figures, mean trannies, and elementary school uniforms, Pinoy style.

However, I found something untrue—that the film will be enjoyed both by the young and the old. It turned out, when I watched the film, it was, for me, just bound to entertain the kids. For a story-conscious and film-critiquing person like me, I have found two areas of the film which I found, well, “not to be proud of”—story and direction.

The usual flaw

Before I proceed with my critique, I would like to make a disclaimer for fanatic nationalists who can’t distinguish critiquing from criticizing.

Don’t get me wrong: I am delighted with the gradual emergence of original Pinoy animation, but as a moviegoer, I have the right to comment about what I have seen. Before anyone brands me a perpetuator of crab mentality, know that I am allergic to crab and other seafood, causing my lips to swell upon gorging. By all means, I recommend Pinoys to watch ‘Dayo’ and be one with the rest of the country in rejoicing with the fact that we now have a growing animation industry, but then again, there’s still room for improvement, and allow me to be the first (?) media practitioner to be honest (with good intentions though).

‘Dayo’ suffers from one of the usual flaws of most mainstream Pinoy movies—poor story. Or could the story have been nice, but not the plot? Or could the plot have been pleasant, but not the script? Or is it in the direction?

I’ve read from one blog the comment of one person saying that ‘Dayo’ is at par with the Walt Disney cartoons that our generation grew up with. You know, ‘Pocahontas,’ ‘The Lion King,’ ‘Mulan,’ and ‘Aladdin,’ to name a few. The animation can keep up, yes, but story-wise, I would beg to disagree.

First of all, the main protagonist, Bubuy, is confused with his goal in the story (I’m using creative writing lingo here). Is it to fly? Is it to save his grandparents? In fact, the minds behind the film are not very decided on what message they would like to focus on—is it being brave for the people you love? Is it taking care of the environment? Is it being friendly even to those who are not like us, or as the title suggests, to ‘dayos’?
What I was also looking for as an adult moviegoer is the bigger picture of the story. Small picture is not evil, but the lack of a bigger picture and the missing problematic sketch of the society makes ‘Dayo’ fit for television, like High School Musical, but not for cinema.

Some might counter-argue that it’s for the kids; why should it be ‘deep’? Well, it needs not be deep. But it shouldn’t be shallow either, i.e., if non-kids are also being catered. Kids loved Walt Disney cartoons in spite of them having big topics like racism, war, political turmoil, and sexism, while not forgetting those that would make Christian Living teachers happy—friendship, the prevalence of good over evil, respect, bravery, and other virtues, which flicks like ‘Enteng Kabisote’ and ‘Exodus: Tales of the Enchanted Kingdom’ would also possess.

‘Pocahontas’ is set during the time when Englishmen set their foot in America. While the main focus of the story was the romance between a native American girl and a white-skinned soldier, it also tackled history, the perspective of native Americans versus those of whites (“you think you own whatever land you land on / the earth is just a dead thing you can claim / but I know every rock and tree and creature / has a life, has a spirit, has a name”), and the war between the two nations.

‘The Lion King’ on the other hand is about a lion prince named Simba deceived to abandon the pride after his uncle Scar, with the help of the hyenas, conspired against King Mufasa. After learning about the truth, Simba sought to dethrone his uncle and lead Pride Rock properly again like his father. The movie also offers classic African philosophies as embedded in the songs ‘Circle of Life’ and ‘Hakuna Matata,’ an actual Swahili song originating from Kenya.

No, I’m not a perpetuator of colonial mentality, but I know a good story when I see one. Not even nationalism can impair my judgment of a good story. ‘Dayo’ on the other hand suffered from a shallow story which chose to focus on a small picture when in fact, the big picture is already there, just unexplored—the humans’ destruction of Kalikasan. We only learned about this after past half of the movie, and the sole sequence that established this motivation of the giant antagonist, was when Bubuy performed a harmless ‘kaingin’ in the forest by bully force.

A lot of scenes don’t have momentum, too, like that ‘Lipad’ Lea Salonga song which just emerged out of the blue, when Bubuy was worrying about his missing grandparents.

Regional Content

As an advocate of additional regional presence in things perceived to be “national” or “Pinoy,” I am happy that the makers of ‘Dayo’ had a wee bit of regional consciousness, as manifested through that Tinguian song Salidummay (which turned Sexbomb Dancers-esque after Ana sneezes), provincial Tagalog accents, and the Binisaya-speaking kapre.
I was reminded of last year’s racial fiasco in the ‘Sakal, Sakali, Saklolo’ movie where Rafa was criticized for learning Binisaya from his yaya, which time and again, was made to be Bisaya. At least, in ‘Dayo,’ I saw no ethnic slur; just an abuse of unfunny Taglish lines by the manananggirl, in my opinion.

‘Dayo’ though could have used less invented folklore characters and adapted into screen folklore characters from other ethnolinguistic communities.

Conclusion

When it comes to story matters, it is not an excuse that we are a developing country, because coming up with a good story (and directing it properly) does not require huge loads of money, unlike technology.

With that said, I congratulate Cutting Edge Productions for contributing to the growing set of Pinoy animated content. My article may or may not reach them, but for those who will be able to read this, I’m not a big-time expert, but I beg you to avail of any teensy weensy wisdom that my writing may offer. Kudos to the animation, but not yet on the story. I believe it takes both to come up with a classic movie.

And, yes, the Filipino, indeed, can!

Please write me at sisig_man@yahoo.com.ph

Something to learn from the Koreans

It was in fourth year high school that Koreans began making its appearance in my consciousness. Today, I’m a fan of the Korean people and I dream of the day when the Philippines can mimic the framework of South Korea in its path toward global progress.

After the successful Taiwanese TV drama ‘Meteor Garden’ of ABS-CBN and the not-so-successful ‘My MVP Valentine’ of GMA-7, the latter network put the first Koreanovela (how Korean TV dramas are called in the Philippines) on primetime: ‘Lavender.’ From then on, Koreanovelas have penetrated Pinoy culture well—from ‘Jewel in the Palace’ to ‘Lovers in Paris,’ ‘from ‘Winter Sonata’ to ‘My Name is Kim Sam Soon.’

I was able to try Korean food when we went to the US in Summer 2005. We went there through Asiana Airlines, the stewardess of which served either Korean food or Western food for their meals. My mother and big brother would choose “itang balu da na,” while I, the hard-headed and adventurous Laxamana boy, insisted on trying what Koreans had to offer when it comes to dining. After all, it’s not everyday that you get to try Korean food. If it tastes awful, then charge it to experience. But fortunately, I loved it! Kimchi didn’t taste good at first but I have learned to love it, in spite of my mother wanting to puke at the smell of it.

Our stopover was in Incheon, South Korea, and we were to stay there for 10 hours. I liked the place. It was cold. It was clean. I couldn’t get over the idea that South Korea used to be poorer than the Philippines. It was hard conversing using English with the natives working at the airport, but they were friendly enough.

The airline company offered two choices for us to spend our 10 hours: take a short Korean tour, or take a rest at a Korean hotel. I wanted a tour, but my company wanted to rest. What a waste of opportunity! It’s not everyday that we get to stay for 10 hours in South Korea.

In college, I was introduced to Korean films in my Film 100 class, where the professor recounted how the film industry of South Korea developed, to the point of making a global wave in a decade’s span. I then grabbed hold of Korean war films like ‘Taegukci’ and romance films like ‘Il Mare,’ and I must say kudos. The unpretentious support of the government contributed highly to the development of Korean entertainment, so said my professor.

In one of my Broadcast Communication class, Music in Media, we had one Korean classmate. I already forgot his name, but I still remember our encounters with him. He was always bringing with him an electronic Korean-English dictionary which he would consult often when he couldn’t remember the appropriate English words to express his remarks. It was amusing, really. I had the chance to have him as a group mate, and his linguistic and cultural struggles didn’t make him less participative. He was indispensable in class. In fact, when deciding for the photo theme of our CD project inlay, he came up with this very artistic idea of fusing classical music flavor with stinking toilets, which to me was very fresh, but to my conservative professor was, well, stinking.

In my college life, more and more students were trying to enlist in Korean language subjects, learning how to write Hanggul and learning basic Korean sentences, phrases, and expressions. Angeles City nowadays also celebrate Choo-Seok festival for the people in that Korean avenue called Friendship, the Korean signboards of which, I think, outnumber the Kapampangan signboards present in the city. In Cebu, they have this Cebuanovela titled ‘Saranghe’ (‘Kaluguran Da Ka’ in Korean), which features a love triangle—two boys and a girl. One of the boys is Korean.

Evidently, Koreans, as well as other Asians, own this decade, and the future is teeming with grander Asian possibilities. I just wonder when the Philippines and other Austronesians will take part.

Korean Singers in the US

Three big Korean entertainers are attempting to conquer US after conquering much of Asia. They are none other than Rain, famous in the Philippines for the Koreanovela ‘Full House’ and that shampoo commercial with a popular line ‘My name is Rain’; Se7en, another Justin Timberlake-like South Korean RnB crooner who is not yet known in the Philippines but is celebrated throughout Asia; and BoA, a multitalented girl who can sing, dance, sing in many languages, and who has a beautiful face and body to flaunt.


BoA has already debuted in the US, but I haven’t heard whether she’s successful. Her debut US debut music video looked like the typical Britney Spears or Beyonce music videos, only with the English lyrics being sung with Asian accent.


Rain’s debut and a lot of concerts have been postponed due to trademark conflicts, while Se7en’s debut is, in my opinion, the most watched out for, as the production team of his US debut album consists of big people who contributed to the success of big US names like Beyonce, Black Eyed Peas, Madonna, Fergie, etc. His first single would be ‘Girls’ featuring Lil’ Kim. The song was produced by Darkchild.


In a newspaper article, Will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas opined that he sees no reason as to why Korean entertainers couldn’t make it big in the US. If American singers can make it big in other places, why not the other way around?

Kapampangans and Mindanao Cinema

December 14 marked the beginning of the 4th Mindanao Film Festival, the organization of which contributes to the sign that, as one blogger put it, “the Art and Culture movements in the regions are gaining momentum and covering more ground.”

The Mindanao Film Festival began five years ago. Originally, it featured short films made by Dabawenyo artists (from the Guerrilla Filmmaking Workshops). In its fourth year, not only shall it feature short films in competition, it will also exhibit full-length Mindanaon films such as ‘Concerto: Davao War Diary,’ which was screened on the opening day.


‘Concerto: Davao War Diary’ is a period digital film set during the time after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, when Davao was attacked by the Imperial Army of Japan. Due to the circumstances, one wealthy family leaves behind their properties and takes refuge in the forest where they befriend some Japanese while holding support for the guerrilla movement. Before the end of the war, they hold a special piano concert.


Charliebebs Gohetia, a colleague of mine in the UP College of Mass Communication and one of Brillante Mendoza’s trusted editors for his films, has his own contribution to Mindanao Cinema, too. His full-length debut, ‘The Thank You Girls,’ which failed to be a finalist twice in the Cinemalaya full-length category, but was independently produced nonetheless, is also part of the festival.

‘The Thank You Girls’ is a film in Bisaya with a gay lingo twist. The official synopsis reads: “Tired of losing in all the beauty competitions in Davao City, five dysfunctional gay beauty pageant veterans decide to travel north to Cagayan de Oro City, in the island of Mindanao. Their mission: to conquer the grandest competition of beauty, personality and brains in the whole province. They believe that being city dwellers, gays in the province will never stand a chance against them.”


Included in the festival as well is Cinema One Originals Best Picture ‘Ang Huling Balyan Ng Buhi’ (English title is ‘The Woven Stories of the Other,’ but the title literally translates to “the last priestess of life”) by Sherad Anthony Sanchez. Set in the forest village of Napalico in the Arakan Valley of North Cotabato, it mainly features a seemingly insane local priestess (balyan or tagbawian) named Manay who communes with the river, who one night performs her last miracle—a stigmata. NPA communist rebels, government soldiers, and children also take roles in the story.

War and peace situations in Mindanao is tackled in the advocacy film ‘Hunghong Sa Yuta’ (‘Earth’s Whisper’), directed by Arnel Mardoquio. The film is about deaf mute children in a community in the mountains. The children are a mixture of Christians, Muslims, and Lumads, and are introduced to the alphabets and numerals by a teacher from the city. “War between rebels and the military has devastated the community of Hinyok, its most telling casualty being children born without the ability to speak and hear whose fathers are now intent on training them to become fighters to defend their land. Vigo Cruz, artist and toy-maker, answers a posted notice about Hinyok’s need for a teacher, and his work with the children brings joy and hope to the young war victims and their mothers.”

An upcoming Chabacano-Bisaya film was also announced during the festival. It will be shot in Davao and Zamboanga next year.

Kapampangan Cinema

The emergence of Mindanao Cinema, as well as film scenes in other regions, especially the Visayan and Cordilleran region, is inspiring, and I keep on dreaming of the day when this idea called “Kapampangan Cinema” would take corporeal form in Central Luzon and in the long run, prove to be a powerful branch of Philippine cinema.

The production of several award-winning Kapampangan films such as 2008’s Most Outstanding Kapampangan for Mass Media Brillante Mendoza’s ‘Masahista,’ ‘Kaleldo,’ ‘Manoro,’ and ‘Serbis’ and Francis Xavier Pasion’s ‘Jay’ is a good sign, as their presence may cause a domino effect to other aspiring Kapampangan filmmakers.

The Mindanao Film Festival is a joint effort among the Mindanao Film and Television Development Foundation, the National Commission on Culture and the Arts, the City Government and City Tourism Office of Davao, the Museo Dabawenyo, plus some admirable support from the private sector.

If not only for the chaos in the Pampanga Capitol, I believe the Tourism Office of Pampanga would have spearheaded the first ever Kapampangan interschool short film competition this Aldo Ning Kapampangan. Sadly, it did not push through.

Will 2009 mark the conception of Kapampangan Cinema and the introduction of its concept to universities in the Kapampangan region?

Student Filmmakers

Students (especially college ones) are often seen as the hope of emerging film scenes. A problem—a curable, minor one at that—with the students in the Kapampangan region is that they are still more or less ignorant of independent cinema.

Ask them to do a short film and you’d see that they’re trying to poorly mimic Hollywood and the stuff they see on free TV. Worse, the Kapampangan reality/experience is seldom or never featured in the stories.

Kapampangan student filmmakers studying in Manila, however, have made Kapampangan-themed works, and it makes me wonder—why do they arise in Manila? Perhaps it’s because when one studies in Manila, he/she is dipped in a ocean of diverse races. To project a unique identity in his/her film, who else to consult but the dear homeland? After all, only you know the stories of the Kapampangan region. Why waste time competing using Manila-themed films?

Thus, I take this opportunity to inform the Kapampangans about Kapampangan short films done in Manila.


First is Mark Dela Cruz’ ‘Misteryo Ng Hapis’ (‘The Sorrowful Mystery’) which bagged the Best Thesis title during its time at the UP Film Institute. It’s about a young gay who confronts his painful memories with his homophobic father during the wake of the latter. The film is like a rosary prayer narration.

Watch the whole film by searching ‘Misteryo Ng Hapis’ at Google Video.

Another is Jacqueline Nakpil’s ‘Lual Kulambu’ (‘Outside the Mosquito Net’), also from the UP Film Institute. It’s about a young boy from Bacolor who lives with his grandmother in the barrio. However, when his grandmother dies, he is forced to live in his uncle’s house in Manila. In there, he struggles to adapt to his new home.


Lastly is ‘Pupul’ (‘Harvest’) by Nicolette Henson, a Mutya Ning Kapampangan and a Kapampanganovela actor who currently takes up Mass Communication at St. Scholastica’s Academy Manila. In her AVP class, ‘Pupul’ was branded the best narrative. It tells the story of a single mother who tries to keep her son from seeing his real father in the farm due to personal reasons.

It will be uploaded soon through the Internet.

Shameless Plug

Allow me to plug our own contribution to this Kapampangan Cinema dream. Our group Kalalangan Kamaru, in cooperation with the Holy Angel University Center for Kapampangan Studies, presents ‘Ing Bangkeru’ (‘The Boatman’), a 10-minute screen adaptation of the anonymous Kapampangan ballad of the same title. Shot in the Pampanga River, it tells an anecdote about an arrogant student from Manila intellectually challenging a young, lowly boatman about the philosophies the student had learned in his Spanish school.



We also have our very first Kapampangan documentary called ‘Sexmoan Adventures.’ Its synopsis: “A town in the Philippine province of Pampanga has for long been known as Sexmoan. One day, the municipal government decided to dump its scandalous spelling and replaced it with how residents traditionally call their homeland: Sasmuan.” The documentary lightly interviews residents of Sasmuan about their attitude toward Sexmoan and their current lifestyle.



Lastly, we are making a new digital short film titled ‘Balangingi’ (‘Nosebleed’ in English; ‘Balinguyngoy’ in Tagalog). It’s a Kapampangan romantic comedy about two discriminating intellectuals forced to attend a blind date. This short film gives a peek to that minority in Philippine society who are unlikely to survive socially by being themselves-- the Filipino intellectuals. Or as laymen would call them: Nerds! As parents call them: Pilosopo.

Ing Sakondu

The Unknown Kapampangan Laman Labuad

Writing about Apung Monang or Simeona “Monang” Calma-Matsdairo—the zarzuela-acting sister of my maternal grandfather and she who got married with a Japanese man (an actual heir to a Japanese royalty of the Matsdairo clan) at the age of 14 during the Japanese occupation—in my previous article about Teatru Ima at Arti, I was reminded that she’s to some degree psychic, so said my Ima.

Apung Monang as a lady demonstrated her psychic skills by casually addressing creatures of otherworldly dimensions. She would point to fairies and elves in a very relaxed manner, as if just pointing at ants lined on the wall. Of course, she would freak out people around her, including Ima, whose fear of the unknown is amplified by her typical Catholic senses—anything paranormal should be diabolic in nature.

My Limited Memory

Apung Monang and her little brother, Apung Marcial (Marciano Lansang Calma), who is my maternal grandfather and a former soldier during the American-Japanese War, slept in the same room when they grew up, along with my grandmother, Apung Ines (Ines Lagman-Calma). We were already living in Angeles then and by the time I was growing up as a toddler, Apung Monang and Apung Marcial were already somewhat senile.

Apung Marcial often rested beneath our thorny anahaw plant in the middle of our garden. Wounds would line up on his skin and he wouldn’t care, thanks to his senility. Having attachment to his hometown Porac where he became tinyente in one of the barangays, he occasionally walked out from the house without warning and kept on proclaiming he wanted to return to Porac. As a mischievous kid, I would offer him a medium-sized block of Lego and tell him it’s bread. He would try to eat it only to discern it’s as hard as rock. I then would laugh at his conclusion: “E la tinape reni, kendi la.”

Apung Monang was more of the silent type, as even though she was already senile, she just laid still in her bedroom. In fact, I have no special memory of her; all the tales about her, including her marriage with an heir to some royal Japanese family, are all thanks to Ima’s storytelling.

When Apung Marcial died, the family didn’t want to tell Apung Monang at once because she might grieve a great deal, and it could be jeopardous to her health. But when my aunt came to visit her—surprise!—she was already grieving because she already knew what occurred. How? According to Apung Monang, a certain white figure—an angel or something—approached her and delivered the report. My aunt’s hair raised.

The Sakondu

One of the laman labuad (elementals) that Apung Monang used to claim to be seeing is an elemental she and a lot of my Poraqueño relatives call the sakondu. How it looks like, I still have no idea. I consulted several sources, including Kapampangan historians, folklorists, and other authorities of so-called Kapampangan culture, but none of them could shed light on what a sakondu is.

In one of my recent visits to the spiritists of Jalung, Porac, I asked a relative, Apung Asing, about the sakondu. She knew that it was an elemental, but she couldn’t characterize it for me. All she knew was that, like the popular kapri, duendi, and magkukutud, the sakondu was also used by folk elders to scare children to submission. “Oyan na ing sakondo!” elders would threat.

Out of curiosity, I tried to play researcher for a bit. Sakondu actually sounds like a Spanish word. I searched its possible origin—sacondo or secondo—through the Internet and it (secondo) appears to actually be an Italian word, and it has a very interesting meaning.

Indigenized

According to a short definition from Wikipedia, secondo is a term of Italian origin used in the German speaking areas of Switzerland to denote someone who is the child of immigrants. Because of conservative Swiss citizenship law, these children are often unable to become citizens and may feel marginalized.

In an article by N. D. Schäfer at www.italianrap.com, he reports that people of foreign descent born in Switzerland don’t automatically get a Swiss passport; they are still seen as different from the Swiss natives. The author further explains, “There’s even a term for them: secondo (for females: seconda), a term used only in the German-speaking part of Switzerland even though clearly Italian. The sons and daughters of secondos and secondas are called terceros and terceras (from Spanish).”

I am reminded of the theory about the origin of the term kapri, a more popular local folklore character. Some say that it could have been from kaffir, a word brought by the Europeans in our archipelago which they use to address black southern Africans. From the Arabic word kafir, it originally means heathen, infidel, or non-believer. To further demonize the concept, the Spaniards could have propagated a more monstrous image of a kaffir, and hence, our paranormal fear of the kapri, which physically speaking resembles the general physique of a tall African man, only ornamented with frightening features like inflicting harm or sickness on people, tobacco-smoking, tree-dwelling, and others.

Now, could it be possible that the idea of the sakondu came from the Europeans’ secondo as well? That the concept was flavored with horror in our lands for them to institutionalize in our virgin minds this ethnic slur toward what they consider “second-class citizens” or secondos in their part of the world?

It could be. Devout Kapampangan researchers may look into this theory more.

A meaningful All Souls’ Day to everyone!

Kalam character pictorial

Yesterday, the cast members dawned their costumes for the character pictorial held at Koolpix Photography, the photographer being Henry Sanchez. The photos are multipurpose, since they will be used in every publicity material possible, such as billboards, tarpaulins, press releases, websites, etc.

Watch out for the pictures in this blog! Meanwhile, enjoy the following behind-the-scenes and fooling-around photos:

Raco Del Rosario (escaped from thesis partners) as Rhodskie

Albina, Dette, Kool while waiting for the other props to arrive

Nicolette looking forward for a pic with snake

Jon, the Production Designer, and Nicolette... and the ubingan

Happy birthday, Peter Danganan (John Joy)! Pa-burger na ka man!

Cheng and Niket

Kularyut ampo i Bernadette

As emo as Kool; belt freshly purchased

Atsing Puring out of costume, waiting for the "daster"

Aries practicing kulam, waiting for the HAU Nursing uniform

Audience area

Bangag king thesis, ne?

Atsing Edith in costume, Cheng, and Jayvie (Kenneth) in HAU Engineering uniform

John Joy Manalang checking out a flask of herbs