BONA: MARTYR OR MONSTER
BY: NOEL VERA
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(Please note: plot discussed in close detail)
Lino Brocka's Bona is
possibly the least-seen of his major works, partly because the two remaining
good prints of the picture had been squirreled away abroad (to the Cinematheque
Francais and the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art), while Filipinos back
home had to content themselves with fading recollections and equally faded
Betamax tapes. Everyone remembers how powerful the film was; no one can rightly
say they've actually seen it, at least in recent years.
It's exciting news
to learn that Cinema One with the help of the Cinematheque is broadcasting a
clear new video copy of Bona , one with French subtitles. For
a new generation of viewers--one barely able to recognize the name of
Brocka--this is a chance to finally see a famed classic; for those who remember
the film from its Metro Manila Film Festival run this is a chance to update
(and possibly destroy--but that's the risk of any revival) their Beta-assisted
memories with freshly minted images. Whichever you are, veteran or innocent,
even twenty-six years later there's much in the film that can still shock and
appall.
To know more about Bona the
film it's helpful to know a little about "Bona," the episode that
debuted on the TV drama anthology Babae(Woman), with Laurice
Guillen as Bona and Ruel Vernal as the actor she has an affair with. Brocka in
a 1981 interview with Agustin Sotto describes the TV drama as a "first
love affair" that the girl enjoyed so much she starts following the man
around; the film on the other hand is "a case study of a social phenomenon…an
18-year-old girl who gives up everything--her boyfriend, her family--for her
movie idol."[1] Guillen, the actress who Brocka called his "Jeanne
Moreau" (meaning, presumably, that she would play the neurotic types) said
she could "relate to it…like Bona, I felt so exploited in what I felt was
a one-sided relationship."[2]
Translating the
drama to the big screen, Brocka made some fundamental and quite fascinating
changes--the casting of Nora, for one, as Bona. Aunor, famous for being the
first Filipina actress with brown skin and small stature to become a movie
star, is equally famous for playing countryside maidens, domestic helpers,
laundry women, water carriers--humble figures her millions of fans could
identify with, and whose eventual rise to fame and fortune they could
celebrate. The course of Bona's fate runs backwards--she's the daughter of a
middle-class family. If she shines shoes and cooks food and cleans house, it's
because she chooses to; she elects to leave her family and humble herself for
her movie idol. As Brocka put it, referring to Aunor's own fans: "You will
hear them talk about what they have given up. Some have given up their
husbands, others a good job…this sacrifice becomes a badge for them."[3]
Of Aunor's stardom
Brocka said, "She was the only star I know who could silence a crowd.
After the premiere of Ina Ka ng Anak Mo (You Are the Mother
of Your Child, 1979), a big crowd waited for her outside the lobby. People
were unruly. Her car was being bumped by the crowd. All she did was put a
finger on her lips and raise her right hand, and it was like the parting of the
Red Sea. You could hear a pin drop." [4] It's typical of Brocka's
sensationalist genius, not to mention his sense of mischief, that he take the
inspiration for such fanaticism and make her play someone capable of the same
fanaticism; when the fans sat down to watch their heroine, this time they found
themselves in the shoes of an altogether darker character, capable of extremes
of cruelty and violence, a warped reflection of themselves.
The opening
sequence, filmed during the Feast of the Black Nazarene in Quiapo, Manila,
right away establishes the similarity between movie-star worship and religious
worship. Brocka's camera is poised from high up--from a godlike vantage
point--looking down on the sea of faces surrounding the statue; he captures
footage of men and women tossing towels at the statue, hoping attendants will
pick up the towels, touch the Nazarene and toss it back to them (the dark
wooden statue is said to have miraculous powers). The sequence has the crudity
of a documentary, or a news segment, and seems all the more real for it. At a
certain point, the camera catches Bona watching the parade go by; a cut and
Bona is in the same pose but her hair is different--she's at a studio shoot,
facing a different idol for adoration.
Early on Brocka
establishes how lowly Gardo, Bona's movie actor, is. Gardo is a bit player who
has dabbled in everything from song-and-dance to softcore porn, all with little
success. Fans complained about having Aunor's character admire such a
small-time loser, but Brocka points out that "if she had been adoring a
superstar like herself, she would be surrounded by so many fans that her own
personal drama would be obscured…" [5] More, a multitude of fans would imply
a support group, other people sharing in her fixation, lessening the burden of
loneliness and alienation from the world. Bona's choice of worship isn't all
that unusual, actually--Adele Hugo in Francois Truffaut's L'Histoire
d'Adele H. attached herself to a junior officer, to his and her mutual
ruin; Catherine Sloper was ready to give up everything for her low-life
paramour in Henry James' Washington Square. With certain
pathological types the object of obsession's impeccability matters less than
the invincibility of said obsession.
Gardo as played by
Philip Salvador is a vain, self-centered, immature man; he's also a drunkard, a
womanizer, a brawler, and a braggart. When Bona moves in with him he accepts
her services eagerly, when she makes the slightest complaint he slaps her, and
when she poses the least inconvenience he tosses her aside--not once, but
twice. When Gardo takes advantage of Bona's willingness to serve him hand and
foot he does with all the careless eagerness of a child, voice and face cheerful
as if he were saying: "Isn't this fun? Don't you wish we could always be
like this?" What's so fascinating about Brocka's direction of Salvador is
Brocka's willingness to "play into type"--to show Gardo's character
embodying not just every cliché about narcissistic actors, but also every
unflattering gossip said against Salvador himself. Brocka either flirts
dangerously with the rumors or simply doesn't care who notices: he poses
Salvador in various stages of undress against light and shadow, the better to
show off his smooth muscles and noble profile. Ruel Vernal, who originated the
role in television, is an excellent enough actor that he can play a handsome
cad and still be charming, even worthy of our sympathy (as he does to wonderful
effect in Brocka's 1976 Insiang), but Vernal also gives off a
powerful macho vibe--he's like a Filipino Clark Gable constantly on the prowl.
Salvador as he appears in the film version is prettier, more delicate, a
petulant child in need of care--care that Bona is willing to give Gardo in
terms of the film's story, and Brocka is willing to give Salvador in terms of
the film's making. The parallels between Gardo and Salvador, between Bona and
Brocka (even their names sound similar) are unavoidable.
It's a hideously
unsparing portrait and Salvador must be given his due for agreeing to play such
a character; he must have had some idea of how people would react and how
closely they would compare his real self to his reel self, yet there he is on
the big screen, giving himself over completely to the role. Salvador is not a
skilled actor--I think some of his best performances came about mainly because
Brocka takes such extraordinary care of him--but here he achieves the honesty
of a confessional, of self-revelation. His vanities and insecurities as an
actor come pouring out of him as if through hypnotic therapy (onscreen they are
passed off as drunken tirades); his neediness--his greed for constant
attention, approval, adoration--is so great any possibility of admiring the man
is swept aside by an overwhelming sense of contempt. What intensifies this
quality in the performance is the sense you have that Brocka is confessing as
well, admitting his foolishness in being so utterly taken in by a pretty face;
you might say that this film is his way of seeking maybe not revenge, but
resolution.
Which brings us to
Aunor, and if Salvador is an actor by director's fiat (careful choice of
appropriate roles, even more careful framing and lighting of the actor for
maximum beauty and dramatic impact) Aunor is an actress almost despite the
director. Brocka uses the opposite approach with her that he uses on
Salvador--no glamour shots with thick gels or careful lighting, no easy scenes
with paint-by-numbers emotions. Brocka uses long takes for crucial moments and
in those takes she's often the focus, the fulcrum, around which the scene's
complicated emotional scheme turns; even when her fellow actor looms larger on
the screen, or is favored by the camera's position, she dominates the scene.
The story is
familiar to most Filipinos, and for those not familiar, it's easy enough to
follow: Bona attends Gardo's shoots, often bringing him soda and a snack (at
one point we see the origin of Bona's fixation--an autographed picture of Gardo
that he in all probability wished he never gave her). One night she is
accompanying Gardo when he is beaten up; she takes him to his house and nurses
him back to health. When she returns home she's whipped by her father (Venchito
Galvez) for disappearing without a word; she leaves her family and informs
Gardo she's moving in with him. Bona does everything for Gardo--the cooking,
the cleaning, the fetching of water (a detail which must have tickled
fans--Aunor was a water seller in the province of Iriga before she became famous);
she even sells bottles in a cart for housekeeping money, and asks for credit
from the grocery when money is short.
Early on Brocka
establishes the crucial scene where Bona has to boil water and mix it with tap
water for Gardo to bathe in; the image--a grown man washed by a grown
woman--inspires thoughts of infantilism. Recall that after Gardo had been
beaten he had looked up at Bona and, delirious, mistaken her for his mother; on
several other occasions when Bona tucks him into bed drunk he talks to her as
if she was his mother, speaking in a slurred, petulant voice. Gardo with Bona
often regresses into a childlike state where he demands to be pampered and
spoiled; Bona, being fixated on Gardo, readily agrees to his demands.
It's an oddly
chaste situation--odd especially as Laurice Guillen in the TV version lost her
virginity to Vernal right off--and all the more authentically perverse for its
chastity. An infant is a sexual being, but the sexuality is focused more on the
skin (warm bathing water) and mouth (food, drink) than on the genitals
(undeveloped in a baby). This film's Bona, presumably a virgin, would know
little about genital sex; she readily fulfills Gardo's demands for food and
warm water, but is helpless when it comes to his two fiercest needs--for strong
drink (which he slakes at the nearest nightclub bar) and for adult sex (which
he sates through practically every pretty woman he meets).
Midway through
Brocka gives us a shot of a fully awake and standing Gardo looking down on
Bona, asleep under the mosquito net; this reversal is so startling we see it
instantly for what it is: Gardo has finally come to see Bona as a sexual being.
It isn't a complete reversal, of course; this still has to be all about Gardo
and his pleasures. He wakes Bona and demands to be massaged; presumably he
believes that the experience of spreading oil onto his naked body will be
enough to arouse Bona, convince her to give in to him.
He grabs her by
the wrist. Brocka cuts to a shot of Bona's face, and the expression is
strangely familiar--it's the same expression Aunor had with Lito Lapid in Mario
O'Hara's Kastilyong Buhangin (Castle of Sand, 1980), an
expression she wears when some needy man comes to her, asking for sex. It's the
expression of a woman wise not in matters sexual, but in the ways of the world
and of her own body as she debates with herself: "making love to this man
is not the smart thing to do…but I'm tired of always knowing the smart thing to
do (or, in Bona's case "tired of not knowing what to do"). In any
case, I wantto do this."
The punchline
comes the next morning, when Bona prepares Gardo's breakfast. Bona is guarded,
wary, alert for any change to come over Gardo. Nothing--he's his usual
cheerfully self-absorbed self. Gardo has gotten away with it again; Bona for
all her intelligence has outsmarted herself, given away what most Filipinas
consider their most valuable asset--their virtue--for practically nothing.
Or has she? More
on that thought later…
Brocka is a master
at sketching social hierarchies, and Bona contains fine
examples of his skill. Bona, constantly following in Gardo's wake, meets the
different people in his life, and constantly tests herself against
them--establishing pecking order, in effect. When Bona sees Gardo and a woman
walk into a motel room, the next day Bona shoves the woman into water; when
Gardo brings a woman home for the night, the next day Bona chases the woman out
with a broom--and is promptly slapped down by Gardo, who informs her that he'll
bring home anyone he chooses. Order established--the girlfriends, then Bona,
then Gardo above all. When she meets Nilo (Nanding Josef), who is clearly in
love with her, she feels nothing but contempt--in the scene where Nilo
confesses his love for Bona, Brocka frames the two with Nilo behind Bona, and
Bona refusing to look at his face. As far as Bona's concerned, Nilo occupies
the ladder rung below her--the only possible position for someone foolish
enough to love unreservedly (someone, in effect, much like herself).
Interestingly,
Nilo is the only one who is able to free himself from Bona's influence (more on
this later): taking Bona's advice to heart about seeking other women, he
informs her (in a scene where they stand side-by-side, Nilo's bulk
overshadowing Bona's slight build within the camera frame) that he's getting
married. It's an odd moment: Bona seems to acknowledge Nilo's risen status by
confiding a dream she has, an eerie apocalyptic dream where everyone is
burning, and she is wrapped in fire. Brocka makes no attempt to visualize the dream,
but he does wrap Aunor in the orange glow of a Manila Bay sunset.
Bona's
relationship with her family is a thornier issue: she loves her mother and her
mother loves her; that much we know. Her mother makes demands at first
("Come back now, and forget Gardo"), qualifies them
("Come back anytime, but you must forget Gardo"),
eventually finds her power to compel her daughter home taken almost completely
out of her hands ("Come back, but don't let your older brother (Spanky
Manikan) see you, or he'll kill you."). The father throws Bona out, finds
out where she's staying, attempts to drag her back home; Bona tries to defy him
both times, but only the second time does she succeed, and only thanks to a
plot twist (a heart attack, conveniently timed--or was it?).
Now is as good a
time as any to note the contribution of the great Conrado Baltazar, who gave
films like Insiang (1976) and Jaguar(1979) their
inimitably squalid look, and Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos(Three
Years Without God, 1976) its at times stylized lyricism. Baltazar gets
deeper shadows and harsher glares out of an incandescent bulb (the lighting of
choice of Manila squatter shanties in the '70s) than almost any other
cinematographer I can think of; he knows how to bring out the muddy details of
a sewage-choked canal or a trash-strewn street so that you can practically
smell the stench. Brocka, trusting in Baltazar to achieve what he needs,
focuses on the blocking and performances of his actors. The words
"stagy" and "theaterbound" often have unflattering
connotations, but Brocka uses his theater training to locate his actors
effectively within the frame, in a way that develops his "pecking
order" theme--who is dominant, who is submissive, whose status is
ascending, whose is descending. Within Brocka's trademark long takes--the
theater proscenium translated to the big screen--you can feel the crisscrossing
lines of force as actors enter, struggle, and--win or lose--resolve their
conflict.
Or you hear the
terrible hiss of energy dissipating, as in the shot where Bona follows Gardo
and one of his girlfriends out a bar's back door. The camera pans from bar to
nearby motel; Gardo and his girl don't even hesitate--they walk through the
motel room door and shut it behind them. Bona is left in the parking lot staring
at the door, disco music playing behind her; after a long while you see her
climb into a nearby jeep (decorated with the film crew's wrap party banner),
presumably to wait out the night, maybe sleep. The pathos of the scene, the
unutterable loneliness suggested by Bona's silent back as she faces that door
is something few other filmmakers can surpass; I doubt if Brocka ever did,
himself.
Often the conflict
isn't resolved, or is resolved in a way that achieves only a temporary balance,
the hidden instability increasing with time. Crucial to emphasizing this
element is Max Jocson's music, particularly his bongo drums. I wondered about
those drums and their thrilling tattoo at first, how appropriate they were to
what is essentially a melodrama (they sounded like they belonged in an action
picture); after awhile my doubts vanished. Jocson's drums signal the presence
of tension, of a huge watch-spring being turned round and round until it
couldn't possibly be tighter: you waited for the spring either to quickly
unwind or to snap, with the resulting catastrophic consequences.
As to the
catastrophe's catalyst--much has been written about Gardo's selfishness towards
Bona, the wretched way he treats her; I have yet to read anyone mention Bona's
effect on Gardo. Bona's devotions hold Gardo back, keep him regressed and
childish; while Bona caters to him, Gardo will not learn how to care for
himself (one wonders how he managed before he met Bona), he will not control
his drinking or womanizing (both of which continually land him in trouble), he
will not move beyond the illusion that he is an aspiring star waiting for his
big break. Gardo is in a state of stasis; he will not grow up, he does not want
to grow up as long as he remains in Bona's heroically patient care.
Enter Katrina
(Marissa Delgado, one of Brocka's regular stock players). She is a woman's
woman whose figure has developed far beyond Bona's childlike physique. Gardo is
in love with her, and she with him; better still, she has money. Gardo and
Katrina wake Bona up late one night: he has a gift for her--a birthday gift!
Bona sits up, eyes heavy with sleep, but you can tell she is wary--Gardo receivesgifts,
he never gives them (Gardo says Katrina chose the gift; presumably, she used
her own cash to buy it). Gardo insists that they go out; at the nightclub the
camera looks straight at Bona while she peers at Katrina and Gardo on either
side of the screen, dancing. She has her hair pulled back, and she's wearing
Gardo's gift--a v-cut purple blouse that fits her simplicity perfectly. It's
the rare moment where Bona finally manages to look lovely (and Brocka
privileges her with a glamour shot), but no one's paying attention; Gardo and
Katrina only have eyes for each other.
Later, Gardo,
sitting at the kitchen table, gives her the news: he's giving up acting--he
loves it but apparently the job doesn't love him; more, he and Katrina are
immigrating to America, and Bona has to vacate and go home because he's selling
the house. Bona has just come from her father's funeral, where she had been
thrown out by her furious elder brother. She has never looked lovelier than she
does now, standing at the far wall wearing shoulder-length hair and the dress
she had on at the funeral; she has also never looked more threatened. She walks
up to Gardo's table (walking up to the camera lens), informs him that her
brother threatened to kill her if she ever comes back, and asks what is to
become of her. Gardo, thoughtless as usual, has no real answer--a foreground
object (he occupies the left side of the screen) with no force, no presence, no
ability to resolve the conflict being presented to him. In his mind he's
already looking forward to life with Katrina in the United States; Bona is just
an annoying unresolved issue here in Manila.
We're not paying
attention to Gardo of course; our eyes are fixed on Bona, who says nothing yet
is clearly devastated. It's Brocka's cleverest bit of misdirection, I think: by
focusing on Bona's anguish we are distracted from a crucial development in
Gardo's life--his attainment of a certain kind of maturity, a certain kind of
belated adulthood. Katrina has managed to prod Gardo into thinking of others,
however briefly (Bona's birthday gift); has helped him realize he must give up
useless pursuits (becoming a movie star); has redirected his energies into
something ostensibly more productive (immigrating to America).
Why is Katrina's
influence so positive and Bona's so negative? Isn't Bona supposed to be the
heroine of this film? Looking back, one wonders just how much control Gardo had
all along--control which, when you think about it, is actually a function of
how much control Bona allowed him to have over herself. You wonder about Bona's
wariness the morning after she was deflowered; was she looking for affection
from Gardo, some sign from him that he finally regards her as a woman, to be
treasured and desired? Or was she looking for signs of change--signs
of Gardo's attitude towards her evolving, becoming less childlike, moving away
from the stasis she so dearly prized? Was his indifference to what happened the
night before a source of disappointment for her, or relief?
With her family it
seemed that stronger forces bent Bona this way and that, but when you really think
about it, you realize that even then everything was shaped by Bona's
decisions--she manages to stay with Gardo and her defiance triggers her
father's heart attack. She may be terrified of her older brother but his
authority is strictly limited--outside of the house he, unlike their father
(who suffers as a consequence), does not try to reach out and pull Bona away
from Gardo.
As for Nilo--Nilo
seems to be the exception that proves the film's "rules." He loved
Bona, but found love elsewhere when she rejected him. Unlike the others, Nilo
is willing to adjust, to compromise, and this flexible attitude saves him; you
might say of all the characters he's most immune to Bona's "curse."
So--does Bona deserve
a radical re-evaluation? Is Bona the real villainess and Gardo her helpless
victim? Not necessarily--I still think Gardo is basically selfish and Bona
essentially pathetic. But the flow of feeling from people who give and people
who take is rarely simple, and never one-way; there is feedback, a series of
transactions, interesting vortices of emotions at play here that make the film
much more than just a sordid portrait of exploitation and revenge.
I do believe both
Brocka and Salvador have revealed something of their relationship as director
and actor in this picture--much more than perhaps they themselves intended. And
that Aunor channeled the force of their feelings to create a great performance,
easily the best she has given for the most famous Filipino director who ever
lived.
Bona is
a masterpiece of acting, psychology, self-revelation, realist cinema; we study
it for its subtleties (of which I think there are many), but finally we
experience it as a cathartic drama, an occasion for identification and
reflection. Viewing the film, we see uncomfortable reminders of ourselves, by
turns exploring and exploiting, seducing and betraying, adoring and abusing.
Viewing the film, we realize that we are our own martyrs and monsters.
End Notes:
[1] Augustin Sotto, "Interview with Lino Brocka on Bona"
Lino Brocka, The Artist and His Times, ed. Mario Hernando. Manila, Philippines,
Cultural Center of the Philippines, 1993, p. 234.
[2] Nestor U. Torre, "Lino Brocka and His Actors: A
Question of Trust," Lino Brocka, The Artist and His Times, ed. Mario Hernando.
Manila, Philippines, Cultural Center of the Philippines, 1993, pp. 92-93.
[3] Augustin Sotto, "Interview with Lino Brocka on
Bona" p. 234.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid, p. 235.
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A thorough review - fulfilling and teaching...
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