Norma

Vincenzo Bellini's Norma is one of those masterworks that has a formalistic plot and an unrealistic, if not preposterous story. Felice Romani collaborated on the opera and provided the melliflous lines of the libretto. The libretto is summarized below.

The story takes place in pre-Christian Gaul (present-day France, I think). It concerns a Druid priestess, Norma who apparently slept with an enemy, some Roman soldier named Pollione and secretly begets him children. Unfortunately, Pollione falls out of love and has set his sights on another priestess, Adaglisa. Ironically, it was Adaglisa who confided this information to her.

Norma angrily confronts Pollione who defiantly confirms that he intends to leave her for someone else. Stricken with anger and grief, Norma seeks revenge by attempting to murder their own children, only to realize that she is unable to carry out the gruesome task after all. When Adaglisa renounces her affections for Pollione and attempts to reconcile the two lovers, her efforts came to naught as Pollione remains adamant in leaving Norma. When Pollione got captured, Norma offerrs to spare his life if he promises to leave Gaul and Adaglisa. Pollione refuses.

Norma then declares, among priests and soldiers, that a priestess will burned to death for committing treason. Believing this to be Adaglisa, Pollione tries to stop her. But Norma declares that she herself is the erring priestess and deserves to die. Pollione realizes the deep love Norma has for him, and decides to join her to be burned to death.

The story is ho-hum, based on pseudo-history and some Roman mythological non-sense. Despite this, the opera manages to convince. The issues touched upon are universal: jealousy, obsession, deceit and guilt. And the emotions that these evoke are equally all -too-real as well: anger, betrayal and the desire for revenge. In fact, the opera posits some very thought-provoking questions: how do you let go of a person who has fallen out of love, and how far should you go to fight for the one you love?

Not surprisingly, the dramatic qualities of the opera will always appeal to any aspiring great soprano. The score has provided a fitting challenge to some of the most accomplished sopranos ever. In fact, Maria Callas essayed the role more than 90 time in her career. Modern sopranos attempting the role always risk a comparison with Callas.

The 2001 Parma production featured June Anderson, the bel canto superstar of the nineties. The role is difficult to play, given the whole gamut of emotions presented by the drama. Although Anderson did her best to portray the conflicting emotions in her character, it just fell short. Vocally however, I have no problem with her interpretation. She is a bel canto specialist, reviving extremely difficult but neglected works of Rossini (Semiramide, Armida and La Donna de Lago).

She had no problem navigating the treacherous trills, coloratura runs, fioturas and mordents in between the long-drawn out notes, and she launched stratospheric high E's with amazing vocal control, making it appear effortless. Anderson sang the aria Casta Diva, one of the most popular arias in all opera, with great intensity and flourish. The duets with Adaglisa reminded me of the famous Barcarolle in thirds from Delibes' Lakme, only longer and with more vocal acrobatics and fireworks.

Pollione was essayed by a young Korean tenor. His voice was weak however, and oftentimes get drowned by the orchestra, especially during ensemble numbers. The orchestra was a disappointment as well. I felt it was dull and a bit mechanical, probably becuase the orchestration was rather spare, compared to say, a Rossini.

I think it was Coleridge who demanded a certain "suspension of disbelief" to appreciate poetry fully. The same is true with opera. If one ignores all the non-sense and concentrate on the music as well as the dramatic intent, operas like Norma get better appreciated.

Blaming English

"Ang paggamit ng wikang banyaga bilang isang wikang panturo ay sagabal sa pag-iisip dahil dapat munang masanay ang mag-aaral sa mga bagong tunog, tono, at balangkas ng pangungusap. Nahihirapan siyang ipahayag ang kanyang mga saloobin at ito'y pumipigil sa kanyang pag-iisip. KAYA, MAKIKITA NATIN NA MARAMI SA ATING MGA KABABAYAN ANG HINDI SANAY NA MAG-ISIP NG MALALIM. Hindi nila ganap na maunawaan ang mga aklat at peryodikong nakasaulat sa Ingles. Hirap na hirap ang marami sa atin na nag-iisip sa wikang Ingles pero hindi rin sila makapag-usap ng mahusay sa sarili nilang wika dahil ito ay napabayaan."
- Constantino, Renato. Ang Paggamit ng Ingles Pumipigil sa Pag-iisip nang Malalim (1990)

This quote was attached to an e-mail message I received regarding some concert for the benefit of some detained former Communist leader. It theorizes that the use of English as a medium of instruction has stifled critical thinking because Filipinos are unfamiliar with the sound patterns and the nuances of the language. Since usage of the native language has been neglected in favor of English, Filipinos are likewise unable to express themselves well in their native tongue.

This is a sweeping generalization from a noted expert on Philippine history. While it may be true that discussions in the classroom, or say in town meetings across the country, tend to be more lively and colorful when conducted in the vernacular, I am not convinced that adopting a foreign language as a medium of instruction in our schools should be blamed for whatever is wrong with our system.

Contrary to Constantino’s assertions, there are immense benefits to using English as a medium not only in schools, but in business, politics, the arts and media. You see, the language is probably the richest among the world’s major languages, a treasure trove of words, because it draws from a variety of sources, from dead languages like Latin to modern ones especially French, Spanish and yes, Tagalog. Thus, the vocabulary expands, allowing the user endless possibilities and flexibility to express his ideas and thoughts. Because it is so rich, it facilitates the creation and exchange of ideas. So how can its usage stifle critical thinking?

English is not just a foreign language. It does not have that status anymore. It is a global language, overtaking French and Spanish in importance. It is no longer the prized ownership of the British, it has been adopted by various peoples and made it their own as well, giving rise to different varieties like, American, British, Indian, Jamaican, etc and all sorts of hybrids and patois, like Singlish (Singaporean English), Taglish (Tagalog peppered with English), among others.

I don’t think I am less of a Filipino now because I chose to write this blog in English. I really believe that you should express yourself in the language you are most comfortable with, be it Tagalog, Bisaya or English. In my case, I speak Bisaya/Cebuano to my family, Tagalog to my friends, and English to my Filipino and Singaporean work partners. My Tagalog has a Bisaya ring to it, the annoying staccato I just can’t do anything about it anymore; I trip over my Bisaya phrases a lot of times, committing a lot of grammatical errors in the process; and of course English, which I use for work.

You see, the choice of language is not really the cause of the problem. It might be something else, like motivation and other social factors which may explain the lamentable “state of mind” among the youth today.

Garden Weddings

What’s with garden weddings? There seems to be a growing popularity for wedding ceremonies in romantic set-ups like gardens and beachfronts. Local celebrities Raymart Santiago and Claudine Barretto were recently wed in born-again rites in Tagaytay. If I remember correctly, G Toengi got wed to her American boyfriend in a beachside ceremony. I’m sure these couples only wanted this life-changing event to be especially memorable, so they took pains to make it romantic, something that will be on everyone’s lips for years to come and would make fantastic photo albums and videos.

I’m just wondering though. Are garden set-ups really the appropriate setting for a wedding? We must not forget that this all-too-important sacrament (yes, it’s a covenant with God) involves not just the couple, but God Himself too. It’ not like the main attraction of the show is the couple and that God is just an accessory.

The purpose of the entire thing is to formally ask God to bless the union, and that hardly qualifies as romantic, don’t you think? You know, sort of like the pamamanhikan, or the formal request of the guy to the girl’s parents for her hand in marriage. In this case, the proper way to do it, has always been to go to the girl’s house and formally inform her parents of prospective couples’ intentions. Similarly, asking God to bless the union requires that you do the appropriate thing: ask God formally in His house, that is, in the church where he is worshipped and glorified.

For Catholics, this is pretty obvious, since we believe in the physical presence of Christ through the Eucharist. Thus, it goes without saying that you go to Church to seek His spiritual blessings because He is really present there, in flesh and blood, through the Eucharist (when he mentioned during the Last Supper that the bread broken and shared with his apostles “… is my body” and the wine “…is the cup of my blood”, he was not talking metaphorically).

For Protestants, I do not know. They interpret the Gospel of John differently. Ergo, there’s no need to hold the ceremony inside a building, when you may as well hold it outside where you can be in touch with nature, God’s most beautiful and scenic creations.

Whatever your views are, the ceremonies should remain solemn and dignified. You can be as romantic as you want during the reception and afterwards. But during the ceremony, remember that God is still the centre of attention.

Don’t get yourself fired up. This is just my view. I certainly want to be married. I just want to do it in the most appropriate way.

High School Days

Manilyn Reynes and Sheryl Cruz ruled the FM airwaves from sunup to sundown. Mr. Dreamboy was an instant hit.

After school, we turned on the TV to watch week-old broadcasts of That’s Entertainment, followed by Inday Badiday’s Eye to Eye. There were no other choices.

Bramy Bayron and Mae Lacang were the undisputed newscaster king and queen in Bisaya. Wearing a pang bible-study blouse and sporting coke-bottle glasses, Mae looked like an aging librarian; Brammy appeared like he just drove in after a ten (10) hour trip from Davao. They should have stayed in radio. I never cared about the local news. The newscasters and the decrepit sets were far more interesting to look at.

Laura Brannigan’s The Name Game. For some reason, I associate this 80's relic with hi-cut boots. My seatmate in senior year, Froilan, wore those.

Debbie Gibson’s one-hit wonder Electric Youth marked the end of the New Wave phenomenon. What happened to her? Also, The Wonder Years and Murder She Wrote were my favorite TV programs.

Romnick Sarmenta-Sheryl Cruz-Jennifer Sevilla love triangle. Didn’t really care. How on earth would any girl fall gaga over this average-looking guy?

Matet vs Aiza: The battle of the babies. I sided with Aiza, I even watched “Wake up Little Susie”.

My seatmate Froilan knew all the real names of local celebrities, without skipping a beat. He knew the real name of Maricel Soriano. He read Kislap.

I woke up regularly at 4 a.m. to catch the first school bus. Ambrose and I would engage in operatic vocal exercises early morning before class.

I played the bandurria during morning ceremonies. We played “Mabuhay” for VIPs who visited the school. I was also the church organist and pianist. When it came to music, people, I was the guy. Hey, they transferred the school piano to our classroom.

Beauty contests were hilarious affairs. My History teacher’s daughter, in the talent portion, performed some native ritual dance in authentic tribal costume, bit the head of a live chicken and threw the bloody corpse in front of the shocked judges. I never looked at her in the same way again. Of course, she didn’t win. My friend Estela did.

I was constantly being linked to buxomly Barbara. She loved to quote Indira Gandhi (“love and sacrifice”).

My public speaking teacher was also my ninong (godfather). He was extremely boring. In fact, he’d kill time by dictating his old notes to us, word-for-word. First time I ever cheated in school and made a codigo.

My History teacher spent half his time lecturing us about things that have nothing to do with History. He said the capital of Austria was Venice!

My classmate Wowie spoke English punctuated with Bisaya expressions like “uy” and “gud” all the time. We all spoke to her in Bisaya.

Matilde would ask questions with which she already knew the answers.

Totally XXX-ed!

This ain't what you think it is; neither is it about the cable channel nor some National Geographic feature. This ain't funny, I'm telling you now, really. I'm warning you, coz it's gonna get ugly. If you're looking for some erudite essay about the eco-system, get out. SCRAM!

Now that I have your attention. Let me just say this: I cannot believe I passed up copies of Wagner's Parsifal and the Meistersingers von Nuremberg, Dvorak's Rusalka, Bellini's Norma and Verdi's Messa da Requiem, only because the Muslim guy selling the pirated DVDs charged me twice its street value. Grrrr!!! I know that it's dirt cheap. But I refuse to be taken advantage of just because I look and smell better than they do. Truth hurts, doesnt' it?

Keeping the rage to myself, I picked up a twenty-peso X-rated VCD instead. You know, to divert my thoughts and to release the tension, literally (excuse me). Despite the above description of myself, I do entertain dirty thoughts (I can't believe I'm saying this!). The problem with pirated discs, however, is that either (1) the content does not always resemble the pictures in the cover, or that (2) your multi-media player refuse to play the disc. Returning it is not an option, of course. What did you expect to get for twenty freakin' bucks?

In my case, the provocative pictures on the front cover had absolutely nothing to do with the "material". I had encountered this sort before, expecting some exotic time-of-Cleopatra setting as the blurb promised, which turned out to be, holy smokes! some naked people in a barn yard full of animals! See what I mean? I knew this was disgusting stuff so at least I had enough time to push the eject button, break the disc into pieces and throw it far, far away.

This time however, the scene that greeted me was already mid-way. There was absolutely no escaping it. I leaped from my seat and frantically turned off the TV, it was that disgusting. YUCK. No words are enough to descibe it. I haven't seen anything like it. It never even crossed my mind that what I saw was even possible. As I write this, I still feel sick to my stomach. How am I gonna have dinner? The images stick to my mind like barnacles. Vivid, as in clear as day. Excuse me, I need to barf. What the hell were these people thinking?

Spare me the lecture please. I know, I know. That's what you get for patronizing pirated VCDs. Which reminded me of that prison scene from Harold and Kumar, where the black guy, accused of trying to break out of prison for the simple reason that he was black, waxed philosophical a la Homer Simpson, assuring the two freaks that "events have a way of resolving itself out". Like a yin and a yang, whatever that means.

In my case, things turned out that way so I may stop buying those crap in the first place. The Guy Up There does have a sense of humor, and I believe He pokes fun at us once in a while. Yes?

Cinderella Without the Magic

The story of Cinderella made into an opera is different from the story as told by the French Mother Goose, not even by Disney, whose version practically every kid in the planet knows by heart. La Cenerentola, composed in 1817 by Gioacchino Antonio Rossini, after an Italian libretto by Jacopo Ferretti, contains no glass slippers, no fairy godmother, and no wicked stepmom. There is a handsome prince, a selfish, conniving stepdad, two evil stepsisters (Clorinda and Thisbe) and of course, pretty Cenerentola herself, who goes by the name of Angelina.

Had this opera been written in recent times, all the delightful tricks of the tale, such as a pumpkin changing into a coach (a fat mouse transforming into a stocky coachman is stretching it too far, sort of a kafka-esque Gregor Samsa in reverse!) might have been included.

Along with Il Barbiere di Siviglia and L’Italiana in Algeri, Cenerentola is part of the standard repertoire of every opera house in the world. But this has not always been the case. Rossini, along with the other bel canto composers Bellini and Donizetti, went out of style during the first half of the 20th century. The full-throated singing style of the verismo school pioneered by Mascagni and exploited with consummate artistry by Puccini, as well as the Wagnerian idea of a music drama based on leitmotifs were all the rage then. It was Maria Callas who revived and popularized bel canto. Today, even the previously neglected Rossini works, like La Donna de Lago, Le Comte Ory and Semiramide, are increasingly being mounted in all the major opera houses.

The 1981 La Scala production by Jean-Pierre Ponnelle and conducted by Claudio Abbado, featured the German mezzo-soprano Frederika von Stade as Cenerentola and tenor Francisco Araiza as Don Ramiro. Von Stade gave a competent performance, although hardly a memorable one. She has a light voice, agile and supple enough to negotiate the complicated coloratura runs, roulades and scales with élan. She hit the right notes, but very cautiously, careful not to trip on the complicated phrases. There was neither much contrast, nor excitement in her vocal rendition. Because of this, the vocal acrobatics and fireworks expected for a Rossini were subdued. Von Stade also failed to imbue a sense of drama to her character. I found her interpretation tepid. I simply did not feel any sympathy towards her.

In contrast, Cecilia Bartoli’s performance with the Houston Grand Opera was electrifying and convincing, both vocally and dramatically. Bartoli’s voice is difficult to appreciate at times. The quality of her tone and timbre is akin to caviar, it is an acquired taste. Her virtuosity, however, is beyond reproach. It is astonishing and she clearly revels in it.

Araiza as the Prince, is in top form vocally. His arias in the second act, with all that high C’s, were pretty solid and impressive. No wobbling. No hesitation. No gasping of air after an extremely difficult number. His rapid vocalization and coloratura runs seemed effortless and leaves you breathless. He delivered a lucid interpretation to his florid lines.

The sisters gave overacting performances, reducing their acts to vulgar romps. Clorinda’s soprano voice was helplessly shrill, especially during the ensemble numbers. The bass numbers of Alidoro (the Prince’s tutor), and Don Magnifico (the stepdad) were well-executed, with deep resonance and rich textures. Also, I have never heard of a basso buffo sing the lyrics that fast before, it’s even faster than the Largo al factotum in Il Barbiere.

Dandini, as played by Claudio Desderi, disappointed big time. His character is supposed to provide much of the comic element. It’s just not there, unlike in the Houston production where Dandini, essayed by the incomparable Alessandro Corbelli, almost stole the show. He was obviously forcing his voice to perform the scales and runs, which he simply huffed and puffed throughout the tricky phrases. Trying to be funny while negotiating the difficult phrases, and catching his breath while spewing rapid-fire syllables at the same time, were clearly too much to ask from him.

The sets were spectacular, hands down. Teatro alla Scala di Milano spared no expense to mount this production. La Scala is the world’s most popular opera house, and among the oldest. It has a rich history. A lot of the world’s greatest operas were first mounted here. In the overture, the film takes the audience to a tour of the opera house: the magnificent architecture, the rich tapestry, the gold-gilded stairways (I think), and the imposing life-sized statues and busts of Italian composers.

Abbado is a Rossinian. He champions the work of Rossini and was instrumental in reviving Cenerentola, using the critical edition prepared by another Rossini revivalist Alberto Zedda. His conducting was precise, energetic although a bit mechanical and dull. This is, however, an all-too-common pitfall among Rossini conductors. The voices take precedence above all else, such that not much sparkle and color are generated from the orchestras, except perhaps, the clashing trombones and crashing cymbals, as the music hurtles to the familiar Rossini specialty, the ensemble crescendo.

Overall, this is a satisfying Cenerentola, although it could have done better with more dramatic and comic acting, as well as more assured and exciting bel canto singing.

Rediscovering a Lost Dragon

I was idly watching cable TV one lazy Sunday afternoon when I flicked the remote control to the Animal Planet Channel. What caught my attention was the feature on a rare monitor lizard known only to exist on Pollilo island, off the west coast of the Luzon mainland. It is clearly on the brink of extinction.

A biologist and nature conservationist Daniel Bennett, is on a mission to capture on film, for the first time ever, the elusive Butaan in the wild, a native monitor lizard related to the Indonesian Komodo dragon. The lizard is extremely shy, spending most of its time up in the canopy, or treetops, and rarely ventures to lower ground to forage for food, and only for a few precious minutes each time. Not much is known about the lizard on account of its habits. Its reproductive habits, its nesting places, for example remain a mystery to scientists. In fact, only a handful of the local people have ever seen the animal.

Relying on local trackers, as well as a support group of Filipino biologists and conservationists, Bennett’s team ventures into the jungle carrying state-of-the-art camera equipment. The lizard is extremely sensitive and mindful of its privacy. It will stay at the treetops for weeks on end if it feels lower ground is unsafe. Its keen sense of smell allows it to detect the slightest intrusions. It has complex warning signals in place which alerts other lizards to steer clear of a particular place, mainly by leaving behind a warning scent. Bennett’s team had to disguise and cover its cameras with ground mulch so as not to drive away the lizards.

The shoot required extremely careful planning which involved examining the animal’s droppings as well as bark scratches and trunk markings on its main food source, some palm tree variety endemic to Polillo.

Filming such an elusive creature required a lot of patience. Not until the mounted camouflaged cameras almost ran out of film did the team hit scientific pay dirt: in its full glory, the elusive lizard appeared shorter and darker than the local bayawak, or common monitor lizard found in Southern Luzon and which occasionally ends up in the exotic restaurants of Laguna. It possesses very powerful jaws, which allows it to pry open the extremely hard palm fruit.

What is astounding is the lizard’s spatial sense of moving in a straight line. It seems to navigate the forest floor using this scheme and pass the mapping information on to the other members or its species, you know, their way of sending text messages.

What I found fascinating as well was the fact that the cycle of life is fully in force here: the seeds from the fruit are indigestible even when it ends up as lizard poop, thereby distributing the seeds of the tree to other locations, much like the pollinating bees that drop the flower seeds to other places. A rare gecko can also be found living off this tree, dependent on it for food and shelter. The palm variety is supposed to grow mostly in coastal areas. The fact that the tree can be found in the jungle, inland, means the lizard holds the delicate balance of maintaining the life force of the tree and the animals that depend on it. You destroy one and the rest goes with it.

Unfortunately, this is the Philippines and you can bet your bottom dollar that bad news is just around the corner. The team got hold of a lizard rescued from illegal trappers and released it afterwards. The lizard’s diet is very limited, and it is almost certain that collectors of endangered species from all over the world who buy the Butaans will only end up with dead lizards anyway. In fact, despite tough laws against illegal trafficking of endangered species in the country, it is a sad fact that it is rarely enforced.

Bennett’s team is on a race against time to save this endangered species by capturing it on film, and hopefully bring its plight to the world’s attention. (I got to learn something about its Indonesian cousin, the Komodo dragon in the 90’s comedy hit, The Freshman starring Marlon Brando and Matthew Broderick). Illegal logging and land clearing operations for farming are driving these creatures deep into the forest. The further loss of habitat may further drive them to extinction.

The support team of a few dedicated Filipino biologists is expected to carry on documenting the plight of these shy creatures. The team had to devise ways and means to carry out the research without the benefit of high-tech equipment. It is another sad fact that it took a foreigner to spearhead the campaign to save the Butaans.

I once saw a clip on TV where a deer hunter, who was bragging about his hunting skills to a friend, was mauled by the shocked deer instead, if not for a lucky break. I was clearly rooting for the deer. It is all-too-often said, that we are stewards of this earth. Let us allow and help other creatures flourish as well. After all, we are all a part of this great eco-system, the cycle of life. (Play theme music from the Lion King).

A Moronic Show Without Equal

I was having lunch at home one time when lo and behold, what do I see on TV but the controversial noontime game show, “Wowowee”, back on air again, only a few weeks after the dreadful ULTRA stadium stampede. Willie Revillame, that potty-mouthed, tactless and sexist host who has been suspended by the MTRCB so many times in the past, is up and about, back to his usual disgusting self, spewing tasteless jokes and generally making asses out of the masa contestants who patronize the show.

I remember feeling flabbergasted when Revillame, interviewed on TV, wanted to continue the TV show’s anniversary presentation despite the escalating death toll, because the people who made it inside the premises “wanted the show to go on”. Notwithstanding the crocodile tears, his callousness leaves a really bad impression. I do not know if this guy has a soul. Good thing saner heads in the network prevailed and temporarily cancelled the show.

Unfortunately, ABS-CBN is home to characters with extraordinary talent for crass and obscene entertainment. It has raked in millions using this tried-and-tested formula. Just look at its programming mix. It is mostly aimed at an audience with sub-human intelligence: awful showbiz chat shows that rely on screaming faggots to generate buzz and excitement; unfunny sitcoms filled with all the big-name stars engaging in slap-stick comedy, recycling dialogues and chasing each other around as the credits roll at the end, and dreadful variety shows like Wowowee which unfortunately exploit the poverty among its main target audience by luring the poor, shriveling masses with extravagant prizes, drawing them to its poorly-organized show, generally make them look, sing, and dance like idiots and then hope for a big spike in the ratings.

Oh yes, the ratings did go up, albeit on a horrid scale: the stampede that ensued from people pushing and shoving to get in left 70 of them dead, mostly elderly women, and scores more wounded and hurt.

People, everything in this show is scripted, down to the last idiotic response from its contestants. A colleague of mine, a law student at that, joined this game show once and was shamelessly instructed to give a specific moronic response to an equally moronic question, in exchange for P6,000. That’s right. They pay you to humiliate yourself in public and generate laughter. Isn’t it any wonder then that other nationalities generally regard us with contempt, as if we were second class citizens? Dumb shows like Wowowee perpetuate the notion that Filipinos are an ignorant, idiotic lot. You know what, I’d rather have a root canal operation than sit through an entire hour watching this horrible, horrible show, because at least at some point, you pass out. Insulting one's intelligence is far worse than any tooth extraction without anesthetic. The producers and everyone else involved should be subjected to a lobotomy. That’s the only way to raise their IQ levels one notch higher.

Showbiz denizens generally lament the general situation of the local entertainment industry. People are not flocking to watch local movies anymore (of course, people are sick and tired of watching brain-dead movies!). But free TV with local content remains a force to reckon with in this third-world country. The larger masa audience regards local celebrities with awe. The poor almost feel an affinity with them, treating them with reverence, as if these heavily made-up and liposuction-obsessed celebrities with fake boobs and pumpkin hair were heaven-sent.

Revillame, in fact is believed by so many of his admirers who flock to his show, to be a modern-day Santa Claus with plenty of cash to spare. They stalk him and wait outside his house in the hopes of a cash hand out. Wowowee producers ostensibly made him appear that way to ensure a loyal fan base. Pathetic.

ABS-CBN Channel 2 is very much culpable for the loss of lives at the ULTRA. We’re not even zeroing on the obvious poor organization of the show here. It’s the whole concept of producing shows that, as one reporter puts it, encourages mendicancy. That even the poor needs entertainment, no matter how crass and brain-dead it is, to make life bearable, is not even the crux of the matter. That main competitor GMA Channel 7 is not doing any better is also beside the point. It is that Filipinos, regardless of economic status, deserve a better entertainment show, one that correctly assumes its audience to consist of intelligent beings.

Hail to Which Chief?

Rev. Franklin Graham, son of televangelist Billy Graham, reaffirmed his anti-Islamic views on ABC's Nightline. He angered Muslims in the US when he described Islam as "very evil and wicked religion" days after the 9-11 attacks. During the TV broadcast, he matter-of-factly stated that his views have not changed since then. Another evangelist, Pat Robertson of the 700 Club fame, another loose cannon and erstwhile Republican, had aired similar views before, calling Islam "satanic". (Roberston, in another controversy, called for the "assasination of Hugo Chavez" as a means to contain the outspoken leftist President of Venezuela).

More moderate Evangelicals and Catholics have steered clear of the controversy and distanced themselves from these two outspoken preachers. The Roman Catholic Church holds regular inter-faith dialogues, bridging different religions together which allowed cooperation on sensitive social issues such as a united stand against pornography.

The Vatican has clearly learned from past mistakes: it has done away with its rigid stance regarding other religions, at least not publicly. Attacking other religions has proven to be counterproductive. The Crusades in the 11th or 12th centuries, as well as the sectarian wars in France and England, in particular, have not only brought bloodshed, but lingering hatred among people of different persuasions. It has only bred ill-will and ensured that religious hatred extend far into the future.

Evangelical leaders like the Grahams and Robertson seem to be acting on their own, shooting their mouths off without benefit of counsel from their elders, council, or whatever. Being recognized religious leaders and spiritual heads of Protestants everywhere, they are assumed to be morally incorruptible. The problem of course is that they have ostensibly become so overwhelmed with their own sense of self-righteousness and moral ascendancy, that they really believe everybody just have to see it their way.

I do not see how bigotry and assasination can ever fit in their preaching agenda, really. How can they even begin to preach about loving one's neighbor, or about leading a life away from sin, or perhaps, talk about forgiveness when they espouse ideas and values that clearly run counter to fundamental Christian beliefs.Which Master are they really serving?

Crossover Boy Band

Il Divo, the brainchild of professional sourpuss and resident American Idol judge Simon Cowell, recently rose to the top of the American Billboard Charts with their third album Ancora. The US is this quartet’s latest conquest, after zooming past the crossover charts in Europe. Specializing in a singing style that is a hybrid between pop and classical (hence the term “pop opera”), the group has gained a steady and growing following among the mature set. Sarah Brightman, Charlotte Church and Josh Groban, all cross over artists, paved the way for Il Divo, whose membership appears like a veritable United Nations (David, an American tenor; Uhrs, a Swiss tenor; Carlos, a Spanish baritone; and Sebastien, a French vox populi). But where do you position the group in the N’Sync/Three Tenors spectrum? A look at their first DVD/CD provides the answer.

Neither Puccini nor Donizetti figures in the repertoire. No arias like “Nessun Dorma”. Not even “Una Furtiva Lagrima”. Instead, we get Toni Braxton’s post-break up lament “Unbreak My Heart”, rendered in Spanish (as “Regresa A Mi”), pop classics like “Unchained Melody” in its Italian version (“Senza Catene”) and the national anthem of drunken karaoke/videoke enthusiasts everywhere, Sinatra’s “My Way”, also sung in Spanish as “A Mi Manera”. Ostensibly, the quartet was conceptualized to cater to a growing demand for pop music with a classical twist. Two members, David and Carlos, are professional opera singers prior to Il Divo, Uhrs is also classically trained with professional choral experience, while Sebastien, is the only non-classically trained member. Not surprisingly, the force and vocal power comes from the American and the Spaniard, heavily trained in opera, whilst the other two provide the middle voices.

The vocal arrangements in the selections are pretty straightforward: each member is given a solo part, mostly soft, lyrical introductions, followed by duets in various combinations, and finally a fortissimo section where all voices combine and soar above the orchestra. The baritone upstages everybody else, with his deep, resonant and very powerful vocals. The American tenor negotiates his top notes, sometimes with difficulty, but pulls it off quite admirably. I mistakenly thought the Frenchman a tenor as well, as he definitely has a warm sound to his voice. The weakest of them, I felt, was the Swiss. He has a beautiful tone, but I found his narrow vibrato unsteady and unsuitable to an operatic style. I’m quite sure Simon chose him for his looks over his vocals.

I take issue with some of the song selections. Some numbers are definitely worthwhile, such as "Passera" and even "My Way". But the carrier single, "Unbreak My Heart", I felt was too cheesy, as well as the tribute to mothers all over, “Mama” which I found too “oprahtic”, not operatic. The worst were the "Unchained Melody" and "The Man You Love" which made me want to go to sleep. It doesn’t help that the lyrics to these two songs are partly in English, which I find to be corny.

Which bring us to the choice of language, which appears like the official languages of the European Union. Spanish and Italian dominate the selections and some English, which is fine because listeners will pay more attention to the music and disregard the all-too-saccharine lyrics. What bothers me is that some selections switch from one language to another, such as from Spanish to English. Sometimes, as in the case of "Feelings", the title alone remains the only English word in the entire song. Why? It certainly doesn’t bring tears to my eyes. It does not enhance my comprehension of Italian, which was nada, nil, zilch, zero in the first place. It only makes me want to push my DVD player's fast forward button.

Simon has definitely pulled off a marketing success. Dressed and styled in sleek designer suits, the guys look like they stepped out of a GQ cover. The market is obviously not your average screaming teen-ager (well, they were screaming teen-agers in the 80’s), but the mellowed-down, still-hormonally-charged middle age set with higher disposable incomes. The shrieking audience consists likely of dumped lovers, more-than-once married couples, the recently divorced, and the pining and still-single soul-mate seekers. The music is perfect for soul-searching and relationship-analyzing activities.

Il Divo is certainly a phenomenon, a boy band of sorts, performing pop classics with an operatic twist. How long the quartet will last I do not know. I only hope that the listeners, after all the applause will have died down and realizing that there are no substitutes for singing with really good voices, will graduate to the real thing, that is, to listen to opera.

Moment of Grace

One time, I was waiting to board the train at the MRT station when some guy approached me and point-blankedly asked, if I believed I had been redeemed, if I have already accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Saviour. Remembering Kumar’s reply to the same question in that hilarious B-movie Harold and Kumar, I said, “yeah, He’s a cool guy” and quickly left him.

The guy in the train station reminded me of Hazel Motes in Flannery O’Connor’s brilliant 1952 debut novel, Wiseblood, an allegorical and farcical masterpiece about isolated characters in search for spiritual truth. Coincidentally, the opening scene in the novel takes place inside a train, where Haze (his nickname obviously indicates spiritual blindness), upon encountering Mrs. Hitchcock, at once attacks her with a sneering observation that establishes his character at the stroke: “I reckon you think you been redeemed”.

However, the major difference between my salvation-preaching ‘friend’ and Hazel Motes is that the latter had decided, once and for all to join the hedonistic, freedom loving secular world by repudiating Christ and all that he has come to believe about Him. The sense of guilt instilled on him by his mother’s harsh brand of Protestantism, as well as his grandfather’s bible-thumping, fire-and-brimstone style of preaching was gripping his throat and sucking the life out of him that rebelling from everything that he had been taught and believed in was his only way out to gain his freedom and independence. Rejecting Christ meant establishing the automobile-based Church of Truth Without Jesus Christ Crucified, largely to encourage people to turn away from Christ, with as much zeal as any fanatical bible thumper.

However, most of the people Hazel encounters when he did his rounds are utterly indifferent to his new convictions. Even those who profess to be interested turned out to be frauds and scoundrels. Here, the novel becomes peopled with grotesque characters, those with unusual characteristics, exaggerated attributes and behaviors. For the author, the grotesque represents mental and spiritual deformity.

Wise Blood is richly-layered: each peeling reveals a different topic each time. How people deal and cope with being displaced and marginalized; the arrogance and self-righteousness that keeps people from seeing themselves and the most important thing, that Christ is central in the redemption of humankind.

The novel is set in the largely Protestant American South, which, as the author had earlier described in other venues, remains “Christ-haunted”, if no longer “Christ-centered”. But what makes the novel astoundingly Catholic, however, is the author’s portrayal of the moment of grace as an encounter with holiness and as a moment of epiphany and that even physical as well as emotional violence are essential parts to one's transformation.

The obvious reference to this, as good Catholics should know, is St. Paul, fulminating enemy of Christ who was waylaid on his way to Damascus, briefly blinded before becoming a passionate apostle. Similarly, Hazel was “stopped” in his car on his way to preach, but this time, however, he knew the battle was over. And with the same zeal and conviction as when he consciously rejected Christ and his teachings, he took it upon himself to indict, try, convict, and carry out the terrible sentence on himself, as a means of penitence. Misguided but passionately sincere he meets a fate that may be tragic but ultimately hopeful. He blinded himself.

The Holy Week is nearing, and we may yet be greeted by news of penitents lashing their bloody backs, or allowing themselves to be nailed to the Cross. Like St. Paul and Hazel Motes, they may have been “stopped” in their tracks and forced to see and accept the truth.

Hate Cartoons

Much of the brouhaha over the Muhammad cartoon controversy has died down. The boiling tempers over this distressing episode may have simmered down, and cooler and more sober heads may have prevailed, but the repercussions are likely to extend far into the future.

Here in the Philippines, the reactions within the Muslim community were largely peaceful, simply because Filipinos, majority of whom are Roman Catholics, are generally tolerant and respectful of the more than 5 million Islamic adherents in the country. Provoking them needlessly, as was the case in Europe, especially in Denmark where the offensive cartoons first saw print, would put into jeopardy the Government's current Peace Negotiations with the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF), a rebel group fighting for a separate Islamic state in Mindanao, and in a broader sense, further alienate into the margins the Muslim minority, whose culture and heritage are quite distinct from the rest of the country. Go to Marawi City in Lanao del Sur, or even Cotabato and you feel like you are in a different place altogether. Muslim Mindanao has a lot in common with Malaysian and Indonesian towns and cities, than with the rest of the Philippines. The point is, you insult Muslims and you risk losing whatever little sympathy they may have with Manila.

The editor of the Danish newspaper remains unapologetic and defiant despite the storm of rage, even violence, that the cartoons have generated across the Islamic world. The right to freedom of expression is the cornerstone of any Western democracy, and publishing the offensive cartoons, one of which showed Muhammad wearing a turban shaped like a bomb, is a legitimate exercise of that basic right, whether the issue is taboo or not.

The problem with this assertion, as Muslim journalists have correctedly pointed out, is that this smacks of double-standards and leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Traumatized Germany does not allow any positive reference to Hitler, not even the publication of Mein Kempf. Also throughout Europe, anti-Semitic laws are in place to curb down offensive activities directed towards Jews. Indeed, freedom of the press should be tempered by responsibility and accountability. The cartoons are simply images of hate and intolerance. It is plain and simple bigotry. You cannot risk giving bin-Laden any reason to replicate 9-11, or perhaps inspire an offended Muslim to take a misguided path towards a totally distorted view of Islamic paradise.

God knows how many nations went to war over religious differences. The Spanish Inquisition, the Hundred Years' War. The Jewish diaspora. The continuing sectarian violence in Northern Ireland. Haven't we learned anything from history? Do we really need to fan the flames of anger over this very sensitive issue?

The Danish editor deserves all the dung that is heaped upon him. And more. His arrogance and belligerence only highlights his intellectual hypocrisy, all under the guise and pretense of the freedom of speech. His actions have put innocent lives at risk. In this day and age when Islam is being pitted against the Western faiths, when Eastern cultures clash with Western ideas, when terrorism is a terrifying reality, he should be more circumspect and sensitive to other cultures. He needs to understand and respect ideas other than his own. We should live and co-exist peacefully, regardless of our political and religious beliefs. Insulting people for no apparent reason other than simply to push the envelope too far never did anyone any good. Good thing we do not have a Khomeini to issue a fatwa against the editor anymore. Really, because he is asking for it.

Diaspora

Remittances of OFW's were reported to have hit US$11.5bn for 2005, on account of the record numbers of Filipinos deployed for overseas jobs. A lot of them are taking on highly-skilled professions, such as nurses, engineers and increasingly, positions in the banking sector. Which means higher pay, and thus higher per capita remitted. I suppose the Middle East remains among the biggest market for Filipino workers abroad. I have a few friends who are currently working overseas. In fact, back in 2000, I got accepted for a bank position in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia but I had to back out because I haven't completed my academic degree yet.

It's not that there is a dearth of opportunities in the Philippines. You only have to look for it. I mean, you see a lot of Koreans and Chinese nationals, even some Vietnamese, manning various bric-a-brac shops in Quiapo, Divisoria and Baclaran. A lot of them, however, turn out to be illegal aliens and some of them sell mostly bootleg merchandise. The point is that while many foreigners are risking life and limb trying to eke out a living here, Filipinos are leaving the country in record numbers.

What is alarming is that we are not limited to exporting domestic helpers, drivers and construction workers, the blue collar jobs, anymore. Many highly skilled, professional people are leaving as well. If this "brain drain" continues and remains unabated, we will not be able to develop strong industries that are well-equipped to compete globally. In fact, the main beneficiaries of the precious talent and brains leaving the country are foreign companies and industries which, ironically compete with our own.

Pity, the Philippines seems very pre-occupied with mainly two things: (1) politics and (2) show business. In fact, the two are not necessarily independent of the other, given the number of celebrities who used their status to gain positions of power. We should pay more attention to creating a culture of entrepreneurship instead, because not only does this create jobs, it brings out our creative nature which ultimately, is the driving force in any winning business proposition.

I'd like to cite India as an example. Indians have this annoying habit of talking too much. They tend to philosphize and rationalize just about anything, to the point that nothing is really accomplished. It think they're changing now. They're now more open to the outside world and receptive to changes brought about by globalization. And they still talk and rationalize a lot -we all do- although they tend to overdo it.

You ask,what has India got to do with the subject on the Philippine diaspora. I have no idea. I just thought I had to mention it.

National Joke

Gloria's State of National Emergency is turning to be one big embarassment, in fact, a joke of international proportions. The basis for the proclamation, PP 1017, is so vague and contradictory, that it seems certain the Government's case would be doomed in the Supreme Court. The legality of the declaration is being challenged from all fronts, especially from lawyers and law schools, who are one in saying that the declaration runs counter to the Bill of Rights. The Bill of Rights, as we all know, gives the highest priority to the exercise of freedom of speech, as well as the right to peacably assemble. Even under a Martial rule, this bill ensures that civil rights are protected.

The "clear and present danger" harped repeatedly by Gloria seems to exist only in her imagination. Ergo, her paranoia requires her to do everything and anything to perpetuate herself in power. The supposed plot to oust the government, through the unholy and unthinkable alliance among leftists rebels and disgruntled members of the military, and God forbid, the MILF (I think they left this one out, as this absurdity would reach levels unheard of before), is really beyond belief. I do not believe that there were instances in the past where groups of extremely different persuasions, poles apart in fact, whose principles and objectives run directly against the other, had once and for all laid down their differences to oust an incumbent they both hated. They exist to exterminate each other, for crying out loud! Granting that this is true and they succeed, how would they share the spoils of war?

Putting a leftist party-list congressman behind bars on the basis of a warrant issued in 1985 is so ridiculous, the goverment would have no choice but to release him eventually. Because there is no solid single evidence to charge them against, as well as the arbitrariness of the whole situation, the other charged party list representatives continue to resist arrest and remain holed out in Congress. In fact, they have become celebrities of sorts: Everytime a camera trains on them, they inevitably raise and clench their fist in defiance. Teddy Casino has even gone a step further and declared it an honor to be labelled an enemy of this administration.

The first casualties under this scenario have always been the media. The recent raid on the offices of the Daily Tribune, which is perceived to be highly critical of the administration, as well as the deployment of PNP forces within the vicinity of TV stations, on top of the ominous warnings from the PNP Chief Lomibao, are obviously intended to intimidate media practitioners to be "Gloria-friendly".

The big joke is that the Tribune is still out in print, and even more critical than ever. TV stations continue to broadcast the issue, and everyone is not afraid to go to the streets to defy the no rally order. Business groups, civil organizations and international watch dogs, are joining the band wagon calling for Gloria to scrap this infamous declaration.

The currency and stock markets did advance on Monday following the peaceful resolution of the standoff in the Marines headquarters last Sunday. Financial markets have grown weary over these disturbances and have wisely learned from the past. If the rallies turn out be peaceful, if coup attempts do not result in loss of life or property, the market just shrugs it off. But now, it becomes imperative that she lifts it, prolonging it more than necessary means there really is something to fear in this country, that is, we're seeing the makings of a dictatorship. That could only mean capital flight. She has a Ph.D in economics. She knows the consequences once this happens.

Choir of Angels

I usually make a weekly trek to Quiapo, mainly to check out the latest classical DVDs not found anywhere else. Guess what, I bought a copy of Mozart's Waisenhaus Mass, and shorter works like the Ave Verum Corpus. This concert of sorts featured the Vienna Boys' Choir, the Wiener Sangerknaben and some members of the Orchestra of the Vienna State Opera.

About the performance: If you ever wondered what made the Vienna Boys' Choir highly popular, this performance of Mozart's sacred works tells you why. The quality of boy soprano voices is different compared to female voices. For one, the amplitude of the vibratos is narrower, the pitch is clearer and cleaner, penetrating but never scratchy and ear-splitting. And the volume is definitely not louder. The innocence comes through quite distinctly, as opposed to a female soprano's whose vocal maturity allows her a wide range of emotions and color suitable for dramatic works such as verist opera.

Interestingly, the boys' voices were pitted against an all-male choir, with stunning effect. Mozart composed the Weisenhaus Mass when he was only 12 years old. So he knew very well the musical nuances emanating from young voices. The sounds seemed to descend from above, sort of like a ray of light illuminating the altar, amidst the heavy all-male voices which made sounds that seemed like it crept up from beneath the ground and slowly, and gradually joined forces with the high voices of the Vienna Boys Choir. Visually, the performance made for an interesting contrast as well. Boys not older than 12, with unkempt hair and wandering eyes, beside older, mature men, stiff and regal, who look like they may be the fathers of these boys. Youth and maturity combined in a solemn prayer. Wonderful. The final number, the famous Ave Verum Corpus, was so brief, but solemn, dignified and subtle. Full of power.

I kinda wonder, a lot has been written about Mozart's being a free-mason. Of course, during his time, freemasonry was frowned upon by the Church and society in general. The point is that many writers believe Mozart turned away from his Christian beliefs when he became a Mason.

I find this hard to believe, however. Because if one looks at the number and quality of the religious works Mozart composed, even towards the end of his life, you'd realize that these works, especially the ones performed by the Vienna Boys Choir mentioned earlier, are very personal and spiritual. He cannot be an atheist or a non-believer and compose monumental religious works such as the Weisenhaus and the Requiem. You have to listen to the music to understand what I'm talking about.

The Requiem, or the Mass for the Dead, probably the most famous Requiem ever composed, contains some of the most profound music ever and leaves the hair on my skin standing on its end. Why? Because he probably felt his time was nearing, his appointment with his Maker was inevitable. And he composed it for his impending death, a final appeal for deliverance, despite the fact that it was commissioned under mysterious circumstances (go watch the movie "Amadeus"). The appeals for eternal rest via a double fugue from a mixed chorus, contrasted by the thundering chords of the orchestra never fail to remind me of the possible pain of purgatory and the torments of hell. You can almost visualize yourself agonizing over your wasted life. Extraordinary. Mozart is a genius.

We're approaching the lenten season. And what better way to remind us of our own unworthiness and mortality by listening to Mozart's music. By the way, musicians around the world are celebrating Mozart's 250th birth anniversary. Despite the fact that he struggled during his lifetime and was buried in a pauper's grave, we are eternally grateful. We have his music.