Neither daunted nor wounded
published 16 Feb 2009, MST
‘I am seeing a sarsuwela,” I announced over dinner one evening. Nobody at the table said anything; the children kept on eating. Much later, my 14-year-old daughter Bea asked: “Isn’t that an old, old kind of show?” I told her it would be similar to a live performance of High School Musical, circa 1920s, although I wasn’t so sure myself.
That I bothered to find out first hand what exactly a sarsuwela was proved to be rewarding—even though I would be wrong as to my period estimates. The show that I watched at the UP Theater, only one of the many offerings during Sarsuwela Festival 2009, was initially performed in 1902. Yes, more than a hundred years ago.
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“Walang Sugat” is a love story set against the backdrop of revolutionary Luzon. The maiden Julia was in love with Tenyong, who was being accused by Spanish friars of being a filibuster. Tenyong’s father, Ka Inggo, was himself a suspect; he was taken forcibly and ordered tortured by the same friars who were pretending to treat the prisoners well and show concern for their souls.
Upon his father’s death, Tenyong decided to join the revolution against the foreigners, heading to the fields of Bulacan. Before he left, he and Julia vowed to wait for each other and marry upon his return. But Tenyong was gone a long time and Julia had another suitor, Miguel, whom her mother favored over Tenyong. Arrangements were made for Julia and Miguel’s wedding.
Desperate, Julia found a way to send a letter to Tenyong pleading with him to come back and rescue her before the 25th of the month, the date of her wedding to Miguel. The revolution advanced. But Julia was made to believe that Tenyong had been killed in battle. On the 25th, Julia’s mood was funereal, garbed as she was in her wedding dress.
Just before the wedding ceremony began, an apparently heavily wounded and dying Tenyong was carried to the church in a stretcher. Despite this, Julia was elated that he kept his promise and came back for her. A priest was summoned to hear Tenyong’s confession, during which he uttered his “final” wish —to be married to Julia, even though he would be leaving her a widow so soon. Julia’s mother and Miguel relented out of compassion for the “dying” man.
After the priest pronounced Julia and Tenyong husband and wife, Tenyong got up from his cot and dropped the sheets that were covering him. He was not wounded at all (hence the title). It was an ingenious ploy to fight for the woman he loved.
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Interspersed with Julia and Tenyong’s songs of love for each other are the undertones of love for country. “Walang Sugat” showcases the misuse of religion and the hypocrisy of those claiming to be men of God. It raises the issue of filial piety, sacrifice and the power of hope. It tells us men and women who truly love, not just another human being but their country and their cause, do defy all odds.
It also shows us that a sense of humor doesn’t hurt.
Members of the Barasoain Kalinangan Foundation Inc. staged the musical, ably interpreting the original words and music by Severino Reyes (of Lola Basyang fame) and Fulgencio Tolentino, respectively. The performance was directed by Armando Sta. Ana, while UP professor Chino Toledo arranged the music for the Sarsuwela Festival Orchestra.
Prior to seeing the show, I would have scoffed had anyone told me it was possible to enjoy anything from more than a hundred years ago. From the first scene, however, where cast members depicted Filipinos’ passionate adherence to the Catholic faith through dance, the audience was transfixed. Then began the first scene showing Julia and her friends embroidering in her living room, and she gushing about her Tenyong—in song. Soon spoken lines were also thrown in, all contributing to the building of the atmosphere that this was about love and something bigger besides.
While the focus was on Julia and Tenyong (charming actors and powerful singers, both) supporting actors were able to hold out on their own as they made their characters distinct and real. For instance, Julia’s mother, Juana, was not a typical domineering parent; she was torn between wanting to see her daughter happy and ensuring she did not break her heart nor endanger herself. Miguel, the spurned suitor, was effective as the rich eligible bachelor who was nonetheless undesirable, dependent as he was on his father for the most trivial of decisions. Lucas, the houseboy/ messenger, was loyal and brave one moment but fumbling at the next. His antics provided comic relief.
The words and songs were in Tagalog, but there were a few foreigners in the audience and I swear they were likewise applauding at the end of the show. Being from Valenzuela—which used to be part of Bulacan and which is still about 15 minutes from the first Bulacan town—I was lucky for my Tagalog proficiency that enabled me to appreciate the language used in the sarsuwela. The words used were those you would see in your talasalitaan back in high school. But the actors were able to utter these multi-syllabic words and extended sentences in conversational fashion (must have been tough to memorize these, much less utter them and sound effortless doing so) that you know what they mean, anyway.
It could have very well been the music. The orchestra was composed of young musicians handpicked by Toledo and brought together for the festival. The result was music that was upbeat or gloomy, serene or fiery, pained or celebratory all at the right time. It set the pace and created the mood for the actors and the audience alike. Toledo even took the liberty of using more contemporary tunes, Bayan Ko, for instance, in communicating Filipinos’ desire to free their country from the clutches of their colonial masters. And since songs were essential to any sarsuwela, the Sarsuwela Festival Orchestra, under the professor, was just as exceptional as any other main actor in the show.
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Other performances and events are scheduled until the end of the month. The Sarsuwela Festival is a production of the College of Arts and Letters and the Office for Initiatives in Culture and the Arts of the University of the Philippines.
Entertainment need not be mindless or purely commercial. For inquiries, you may call 928-7508 or 981-8500 local 2105.
